Blue Flame

He stood up and shook Stefan’s hand, smiled at Martina and said, “Please remember professor, from this point on, you are Joseph and Jane Wolffe.” He tickled the sleeping baby’s chin, and added, “And let’s not forget, baby George Wolffe.” He smiled and told them, “Take good care of yourselves and good luck in the U.S.A.”

* * *

George Sykes felt bored. He’d had a tiring day escorting and interviewing people, although he felt good about the new Wolffe family.

‘A little highlight, to make a shitty job and a monotonous day worthwhile,’ he thought while driving his Willy Jeep around the rubble of Berlin’s pot-holed roads. Several streetlights powered by emergency generators illuminated the road. Sykes felt lonely and homesick but did not want to return to the barracks yet, so he stopped at a small café near the Berlin hospital. Seeing lights piercing through the boarded-up building, he thought. ‘I’ll grab a coffee real quick.’ He turned off the engine and went inside the small café.

People were sitting down chatting and drinking. The talking ceased when George entered and an uneasy silence fell upon the café as Sykes walked to a small empty table and took a seat. He appeared to be the focus of attention as the customers glared at him. He tried to catch the waitress’s attention, who he noticed was a little overweight with harsh features.

‘A veritable pig in knickers,’ thought George and chuckled.

Determined to get a cup of coffee, he raised his hand and shouted, “Coffee over here, please.”

The German customers looked on in disgust at this brash Yank. Sykes noticed that most of the customers wore either doctor’s white coats or nurse’s uniforms. Deciding that he’d had enough of rude Germans after his run-in earlier at the hospital with the pushy, but beautiful nurse, and realising a coffee would not be forthcoming, he sighed. He went ignored as the chatter in the café resumed.

‘If my coffee ever arrived, it would taste like bilge water, and one of the Krauts would probably have spat in it,’ thought George, ‘I might as well go back to his barracks to grab a cup of coffee there.’ He got off the chair and walked towards the door.

“Hello Lieutenant,” said a voice behind him.

He swung around to face the nurse from earlier.

“You aren’t leaving already?” she asked and smiled.

“Hello nurse erm …?” said George, embarrassed.

“Steffi,” she said and pointed to a table in the corner where a balding strange-looking doctor sat. “Please, come join us, lieutenant,” she said.

“Please… Call me George, and no, but thanks. I will call it a night and get a coffee at the barracks,” he said, thinking how amazing this woman looked and smelled as he told her. “Besides, the service here isn’t too great.” He looked over at the waitress leant on the counter.

Steffi barked an order at ‘the veritable pig in knickers’ who rushed behind the counter.

“Your coffee is on its way George.” smiled Steffi. She took hold of George’s hand, led him over to her table, and introduced him to Dr Rudolf Flanman.

* * *

A fleet of black saloon cars with a white star painted on each side pulled up at the dockside. It was mid-afternoon and it had taken almost nine hours to drive the ‘Operation Paperclip’ party 320 kilometres to the port of Lubek. They had spent the previous night sleeping on canvas stretchers, cramped together in a large bomb shelter under the demolished remains of the bombed-out Reichstag building. Scientists, engineering specialists, and their families were woken early morning, before being ushered into the fleet of the commandeered German vehicles.

With American military personnel as their drivers and escorts, they drove through the wreckage and shells of the former buildings of Berlin, before getting onto the open roadways heading west. Although the distance should have taken four to five hours, they had to navigate around bombed unusable roads and the many roadblocks and checkpoints set up by the Allies. The noisy old saloons smelled of exhaust fumes. Jane, Joseph, and baby George sat in the rear of the saloon car, with Jane having to waft fumes away from baby Georges face as the infant wailed constantly.

The driver was a cheerful U.S. G.I army sergeant, and in the front seat was a young G.I captain, whom the Wolffes thought looked far too serious. The sergeant tried to engage in friendly banter with the Wolffe’s several times but was chastised by the captain.

Arriving at the port, they stopped alongside a 14,200-ton U.S. liberty cargo ship: the S.S. John H. Brown. This would be the last time many of them would ever see Germany again. The voyage was to take almost a month. General Brownlow was the liaison officer in charge of coordinating the group of men, women, and children. He would accompany them on this leg of their journey, which he was happy to do, as it meant he was going home and getting away from the Berlin stench and the people who he despised.

Sergeant Hickster carried Joseph, Jane, and baby George’s luggage as they boarded the cargo ship, along with the rest of the group. As Sergeant Hickster escorted them to their quarters, he whispered in German, “My name is Tomas. What’s yours?”

Joseph looked surprised and was about to introduce himself when a loud booming voice echoed behind them.

“Sergeant Hickster, I warned you not to speak to these people.”

“Sorry sir,” said the sergeant. “I was just…”

“Take the bags into their cabin,” barked the young captain, looking enraged.

With the captain waiting outside the cabin, Sergeant Hickster placed the Wolffe’s bags beside a set of bunk beds and went up to the deck to chat with one of the ship’s crew.

The captain escorted the Wolffe’s to an eating area where General Brownlow waited with their instructions for this part of the journey.

He gave strict orders not to have any contact with the crew and be a separate community until they reached the United States. He told them that once in America, they would be transported to their respective areas to begin their new lives, and he warned them, “You are all prohibited from going onto the deck for the entire voyage. You have an area below decks for recreation and exercise with a separate galley and eating area. Anyone who breaks these rules will be shot.”

After the briefing, they all silently went to their cabins and unpacked their belongings. Joseph and Jane sat on their hard bunk bed. Jane started to cry, which made George cry. Joseph put his arm around his wife and son, and said, “At least we are safe, we are better off than most of the German people.” Jane nodded and sobbed as she cradled George. “Maybe it will be fine at least there was no more war, and apart from that nasty General, the Americans whom we have met so far have not been so bad. Besides, some of our friends are here, so we are not alone,” said Joseph and kissed Jane and George.

Jane sighed, nodded, wiped the tears from her eyes, handed George to Joseph, and said, “I will check the kitchen and see if I can find us something to eat.”

“It’s called a galley on a ship darling,” smiled Joseph.

Two hours later, the John H. Brown edged away from the dockside. The cargo of refugees stared out of their portholes as the vessel made its way out of the port. They all had tears in their eyes as they gazed back at their war-ravaged and decimated country that got further away from the ships wake.

* * *

Lieutenant George Sykes, Staff Nurse Steffi Beike, and Dr Rudolph Flanman sat around a small, round, brass-hammered table in a corner of the small café. Steffi apologised to George for her abruptness earlier but explained that they and the Schuler’s had become close, so it came as a shock to her and the doctor when George took them away. Both Dr Flanman and Steffi spoke English and probed George for information about the family. They told him how concerned they were about the baby.

George, feeling uncomfortable with the questions, took a drink of coffee. He looked at the pair smiling at him, and said, “I am sorry, but I am not at liberty to divulge any information about the Schuler’s or my work. But don’t worry, I guarantee that the family are safe and will be well taken care of.”

Steffi smiled and said, “We understand George, let’s change the subject. How’s the coffee?”

The conversation changed, although Steffi and Rudolph occasionally spoke to each other in German, George felt more at ease. The waitress brought small plates of food to the table, and they ate and chatted for another hour. George could not take his eyes off Steffi. She was a beautiful woman in her mid-twenties. Her wavy blonde hair clipped back into a bundle, which reminded George of Rita Hayworth, the American actress, dancer, and pin-up: every serviceman’s dream girl. Except this Rita Hayworth had deep crystal blue eyes, which George gazed into. He had not thought about, much less been, this close to a woman in a very long time.

The doctor smiled as he noticed the young lieutenant’s ardour and excused himself, leaving the pair alone.

George told Steffi that before the war, he was a schoolteacher from California. He had served in the US Army for two years, and although a tall muscular man, due to his education, he had served in administrative roles. The couple enjoyed each other’s company, and George felt relaxed and secure with Steffi, despite the rocky start, for which she constantly apologised.

Steffi told George that she wanted to be a surgeon and had spent several years at an English university. Her mother was English and her father German, which posed a quandary during the commencement of hostilities. With her family living in Germany, she returned there after completed half of her surgical training because the country needed nurses. They had been talking for some time, so hadn’t noticed that the other customers had long since gone from the café. The waitress leant against the counter, staring at the couple. Time seemed to have stood still for George, and he didn’t want the night to end, unlike the pig in knickers, who kept coughing and looking at her watch.

Steffi smiled and whispered, “I think she wants us to leave.”

George looked at the waitress and asked for the bill.

“That’s okay, there’s no need to pay here,” said Steffi and stood up and held out her hand. “Thank you for a great evening lieutenant. It’s a pity it has to end,” she said.

George did not quite know what to do with her hand: shake it, kiss it, slap it… what?

He decided to be gallant and kiss it. Steffi chuckled and put her hand over her mouth.

“What did I do wrong, ma’am?” asked George.

“Nothing,” said Steffi still giggling, “Nothing at all.”

George also started to laugh.