Winfred

70

Official Report

British Intelligence

Code: 3986

Kathleen Winfred

When the air raid sirens went off again, I was too tired, after a stressful past few days, to do more than grab a blanket to wrap around me and my glasses to at least halfway disguise me. Pirot had night shift, so she went down separately, and we did not walk together.

I reached the stairs, where Von Steubon was standing at the top, looking slightly agitated, directing prisoners and soldiers through the door and downstairs in an orderly fashion.

When I passed him, he picked Schubert up and handed the dog to me.

"I'll save you a spot," I promised him. He nodded, still looking distracted. I knew that the sirens, still going off, were making him ill at ease.

I found two spots along the wall (the bench seats were all taken, and I knew Von Steubon wouldn't be the type of German officer to make people move so he could sit on the bench), and sat down, setting Schubert in Von Steubon's spot to save it and wrapping my blanket around both of us.

It had been raining the past several days and the air had become quite chilly for the end of spring. Some of the prisoners without blankets shivered in the damp basement air.

Eventually, when Von Steubon could find nothing else to distract himself with, he sought me out. I gave him a slight wave to catch his attention.

He came over and slumped down against the wall, sighing heavily. Schubert jumped onto his lap, nudging his hand and trying to get his master to pet him

Von Steubon scratched Schubert's ears for a moment, before straightening to sit rigidly against the wall, his hands clenched in his lap.

As we were in close quarters, I was sitting shoulder to shoulder with the prisoner next to me, a girl I did not know, and with Von Steubon on my other side. When a bomb went off, close enough for everyone to feel the vibration of the explosion, Von Steubon went completely rigid, seeming so tense that I thought it was not possible for him to become any more stiff.

I hesitated, before gently touching his shoulder, making him flinch. "It's alright," I whispered, in German so as to keep our conversation from the prisoners on either side of us. "You don't have to pretend it doesn't bother you. I know, remember?"

He closed his eyes, and nodded.

I gently kneaded his shoulder, trying to get him to relax. Just when it seemed to be starting to work, another bomb exploded, this one close enough that we not only felt the walls around us vibrate, but the lights in the ceiling rattled and flickered somewhat, some of them going out.

Von Steubon had tensed up all over again.

"Talk to me," he said through gritted teeth, after a few moments. "Please," he added.

"Alright," I nodded. "Do you...have family?"

"A twin sister," he muttered. "Her name is Maddalyn."

"How old is she now? Does she live in Germany?"

"She is twenty-five now, and married, with children of her own. My nephew, Hans. My niece, Ada. I've never met Ada...I haven't seen them since the beginning of the war, and she was only born last year. I heard in one of Maddalyn's letters. She and her family moved to France; they live near the channel." He sighed, his eyes remaining closed. "I miss her, my sister."

"You were close?"

He nodded. "After our parents died...Our Aunt and Uncle took us both in. We've been quite close, ever since...something about losing our parents...One of my greatest fears is losing Maddalyn."