Verena 5
By Gersheimer gersheimer77@seznam.cz
1943: Escaped French pilot rescued by a huge German woman - his future wife. 

A war-time romance - improbable, but true story. Part 5 - conclusion.

Raynal was, of course, scared and didn't know what to do. Luckily, in a few
seconds Verena appeared in the kitchen and he quickly grabbed a slip of paper
and wrote: "THE TALLER GESTAPO MAN KNOWS. WANTS TO EXPOSE 
BOTH OF US RIGHT NOW." His Amazon lover froze for a while, obviously she 
was thinking hard, and then took the paper and pencil from his hand. What she 
wrote, however, startled Raynal a lot: "CAN YOU SWIM?" He was puzzled and 
must have looked it, but nodded. She swallowed the paper, smiled at him 
reassuringly and motioned him to follow her back to the dining room.

The whole auditorium waited rather impatiently for the desserts, but Verena
took the floor and announced again in the Allemanic dialect (by that time 
Raynal started to understand it enough to get the basics of the message):

"Dearest guests, I sensed that some of you feel rather disappointed with the
results of the little games we just had. Therefore I've decided to offer you 
one more competition, to give you a chance for revenge, and a bit of fun as well. 
Let us all return to the times of our youth; you surely know the children's game 
of The Waterman. Of course, the children play it in summertime, but now you are 
strong men and soldiers, you certainly have no reason to fear cold water. There 
is a little fishpond about two hundred meters away, and it is not frozen. The 
point of the game is, as you are surely aware, simply to try to push each other 
into the water, and whoever stays dry on the bank last, wins and becomes 
The Fighter of the Day. It is, however, against the rules to cooperate in two 
or three against one other, or punch or kick. And anyone who falls into water 
is out for the rest of the game..."

There was a moment of silence and then the Reichsmarschall first started to
applaud and cry "Hoch!" and then everyone joined in. Either out of necessity,
or just because they realised that they might enjoy a very special "wet-shirt"
spectacle if they manage to get Verena to the water. The Reichsmarschall made
it clear that everyone below the rank of Colonel would have to take part, so a
group of almost 30 contestants took off their uniforms and walked in their
undergarments outdoors. Raynal stuck to his own duties and wondered how 
Verena intended to dispose of the Gestapo man and what chance she had amidst
thirty opponents? 

It was just then someone grabbed him from behind and forcefully turned his head 
towards the already standing Reichsmarschall, who was pointing his finger straight 
at him.

Jean's heart skipped a beat and he almost jumped out of his skin. However, a
second later his reason kicked in before he could do anything stupid. 'This
behavior actually means that my cover hasn't been blown yet! They still
consider me a deaf-mute!' he thought. He looked at Goering questioningly and
saw him turn his finger towards the door and then feigning pushing with his hands. 
It obviously meant that he wanted Jean-Hugo to take part in the game as well... 
Not knowing what best to do, he made a military salute and turned for the door. 
The Reichsmarschall briefly grinned and then lost interest in him on his way out.

It was a dark, cloudy night outside and the temperature was slightly below
freezing. Verena was right; the fishpond wasn't frozen. All the contestants, as
well as the highest- ranking observers, assembled on its narrow dam, with
Verena in her white gown standing head and shoulders above all. The scene
was lit only dimly by four or five torches in the hands of some of the observers. 
Jean joined them as the last one, and then Verena called loud: "Dear guests, it's 
time to begin! Remember: just pushing; no punching, no kicking and no coalitions 
either! Let the best fighter of all stay dry at the end! Ready, steady, GO!"

Raynal was obviously the smallest and, more importantly, the lightest of all
the contestants. But still he had one advantage -- his childhood rugby
experiences. He played in local junior league and knew that in tackling,
technique is more important than bodyweight. And whoever lowers his own 
center of gravity the most, is generally bound to stay on foot.

A great melee ensued and immediately the first fighters started to fall into the
water, which was about one meter below. Jean bent down as low as he could and 
tackled the nearest German who was more than a head taller than him. However, 
when Jean hit him with his shoulder at his side, he bent in two and collapsed to 
the ground. Jean had little difficulty pushing him into the water. Immediately 
after that Jean rose and looked around to see who to tackle next. In that fraction 
of a second he managed to see that the initial melee broke into two distinct parts.

Apparently, about one half of the contestants closer to him decided to observe
the "no-coalition rule" while the others ignored it and congregated around
Verena to take revenge on her with their combined power. Verena's head stood
above the tight crowd and every time she managed to free one of her arms for an 
instant, immediately a man or two was pushed or thrown into the water. Jean 
saw close to him the Gestapo man that had been threatening him and tackled him 
instantly. However, his opponent was prepared and caught both of his shoulders. 
Then, transferring one hand to Jean's neck, he started strangling him. His opponent 
was very strong and Jean's mind started to go black. It came as a relief, in fact, 
when a bull-sized man tackled them both and pushed both of them at once into the 
fishpond.

The icy water hit Jean like a thousand of needles, but at least the Gestapo man let 
his neck go. He inhaled and started to tread the water, looking towards the dam. 
Still men kept falling into the water and only about ten remained dry on the dam, at 
least five of them in a heap on Verena. She seemed to be immovable, but her 
opponents held with all of their combined might and she couldn't find a way to 
separate them and throw into water one by one. Jean swam towards the bank. Just 
as he finally found bottom below his feet, the Gestapo man caught him again by the 
neck from the back and started strangling.

It was at the very time when Verena had a chance to look into the fishpond. When 
she saw Jean and the Gestapo man fighting, she intentionally lost her footing and, 
taking the whole bunch of her opponents, fell into the water with a big splash. A 
second or two later the pressure on Jean's neck was again relieved, and the Gestapo 
man disappeared from his sight. 

Jean got out of the water and watched three remaining men fighting on the dam, 
while Verena was standing in shoulder-high water near the bank and helping the 
other contestants out of the water. Only the Gestapo man was nowhere to be seen.
After less than a minute, one last man remained on the dam, the bull-sized man, 
who was declared winner with great applause from the watching prominent people. 
Verena helped the last contestant to get safely out of water and then got out herself.

Her appearance was as majestic and beautiful as before, despite being totally
soaked. The wet-shirt effect made her breasts perfectly visible, including nipples 
and aureolas. Everyone ran or walked back to the lodge towards its big and warm 
fireplace. When Verena's eyes briefly met Jean's, she smiled and blinked at him, 
and made a horizontal gesture with her right hand, as if to say: "Problem solved."

Back in the lodge everyone removed their wet clothes and changed into the top
parts of the uniforms only. Verena, after letting the guests enjoy the sight of her 
breasts for a while, changed into her dry forester's uniform. Jean, however, had no 
spare clothes. It was a surprise to him when the winner, a Wehrmacht major, 
approached him and silently offered him his own dry underwear and T-shirt, which 
Jean reluctantly accepted.

Incredibly, no one even noticed one person missing that evening, and the rest
of the dinner went on smoothly for Verena and Jean. The guests enjoyed the
desserts, and then kept drinking the rare French wines, cognacs and other liquors by 
tens of liters. Jean warily watched the second Gestapo man, but that one drank so 
heavily that after a while he posed absolutely no threat. The guests enjoyed some 
harsh military jokes among themselves, like pulling a chair off before one sits down 
etc, laughing like stupid all the time. Jean wondered how Verena felt about it and 
whether she also considered using some poison on the assembled prominents.

Then Jean had a chance to find out that his Amazon lover possessed one more set
of special qualities, this time musical ones. She started to sing some folk songs in 
a beautiful full voice -- first a cappella, but then the mousy civilian man took out 
a squeezebox, and one of the colonels a violin. At one time Verena shifted from 
German songs to some famous pre-war French ones that, understandably, filled 
Raynal again with rather ambivalent feelings. Still, the two musicians were able to 
play those songs as well, and most of the audience then for some time sang together 
in his native tongue! After about an hour of singing the prominent civilian took 
Verena to the side and they negotiated for some while in a whisper. Jean 
intentionally passed by them while carrying dirty plates to the kitchen and he 
overheard Verena asking: "Really? Anything I want?" This was met with a quiet 
nod of promise by her conversant.

When Jean returned from the kitchen he saw the man and Verena slowly 
approaching the Reichsmarschall, who was deep in conversation with one of the
Generals, from the rear. The civilian put his finger in front of his mouth and
waved the other hand. Verena exhaled deeply, caught the bottom of the unknowing 
Reichsmarschall's armchair and lifted. With one fluid motion she managed to get 
both the living and the dead 280-kilogram combined weight to the height of her 
mid-section. She rested for a second and with another powerful surge, transferred 
the weight at her breasts, the armchair being now tilted backwards almost 45 
degrees. She inhaled and exhaled again and then with a great effort on her face she 
made the final part of the lift and held the Reich's Minister and Commander-in-
chief of the Luftwaffe in his armchair for a while above her head, while the 
audience cheered and applauded.

Then she put him down gently, received the necessary accolades, but apologized
for having to tend to her babies again, and disappeared in the bedroom. The dinner 
was slowly nearing its finish. When the cuckoo clock on the wall rang midnight, the 
Reichsmarschall, who seemed to enjoy the last display of strength even though 
being just its object, announced the end and asked the prominent guests to get to 
the cars to take them to the chateau where they were to sleep. They did so after a 
while, the less drunk ones helping the rest that were stone drunk. The low-ranking 
guests climbed one-by-one to the attic leaving Jean and Verena to do some cleaning.

It was about three a.m. when Jean and Verena finally went to bed. Given that some 
of the guests were sleeping directly above them, they didn't dare talk, and the 
evening's events made them too tired anyway, so they fell asleep almost instantly.

Jean woke up suddenly as he felt someone shaking him. To his relief, it was
Verena who smiled at him and took a pencil and a paper and wrote: DRESS UP 
AND GET TO THE TOOL SHED BEHIND THE LODGE AND WAIT FOR ME 
THERE. Jean nodded, swallowed the paper, and dressed. It was already a bright 
day; there were cars waiting outside and some of the guests were already preparing 
to leave.

The tool shed in question was located some fifty metres to the side and out of
sight from the entrance to the lodge. He waited there nervously for about an hour 
and then Verena appeared, holding a big empty postal bag in her hand. She
thoroughly checked the surroundings and then closed the door behind herself.
She lifted Jean to her height, smiled and started kissing him all over the face. Then 
she whispered into his ear, "A change in plans, Jean. There is a car bound straight 
for Basel waiting outside. There will be no better chance to get you safely out of 
Germany. If you can get into this bag, I will put you there. The occupants of the car 
know about you, but still, make neither move nor sound during the journey. The car 
will go there non-stop, for some three hours, stopping only at the borders. Once 
inside Switzerland, they will release you. Jean, I love you, you were so nice to me... 
When the cursed war ends and if we both survive..." Her voice suddenly broke and 
tears appeared in her eyes.

And in Jean's eyes as well. He kept kissing her for a while and then managed
to say, "I adore you, Verena. You are the most amazing woman on this world. I 
swear that if I survive I will get back to you. Whatever world emerges out of this 
war, I will be happy to enjoy it with you and your babies, if you want. Thank you 
infinitely!" She lifted him even higher and danced around the shed, gazing silently 
into his eyes for what seemed like an eternity. And then she slowly put him into the 
postal bag, gave him one last kiss, tied a knot, and carried him in her arms outside.

Jean felt himself being put gently in a trunk of a car with its motor running. Some 
other items were put around and even on top of him, but those weren't heavy.
And then the car moved. Shortly after, the humming of the motor lulled Raynal
back to sleep. He only woke up when he felt some hands removing the boxes
around him and then he heard a voice, "Wake up, deaf guy! You are in your
promised land!" The bag was drawn out of the car, the knot on it was untied, 
and Jean stuck out his head through its opening with still sleepy and puzzled face. 
He turned his head all round.

The car was standing at the edge of a road by a small forest, the ground was
gently sloping towards a big and beautiful, peacefully looking city in less than a
kilometer's distance, with many churches and towers, divided in two parts by a
wide silvery river spanned by four bridges. Behind him there was a wooded hill
topped by a radio mast that itself was topped by a square red flag with an
even-legged white cross. The same flag, only much bigger, appeared above a
block of grey houses below the summit. Everything was just as Verena had
described it. And right beside him, the mousy looking civilian prominent stood 
with one of the drivers. They grinned at him, closed the back door and got back to 
the car. "Good luck!" was heard before the car sped away towards the city.

'Is it really all behind me?' Raynal asked himself. He looked into the bag and saw 
something blue there. It was the remnants of his 1940 pilot uniform, but washed 
clean and smelling of soap. He put them on and felt something below the collar. It 
was a folded 20- Swiss franc note and a slip of paper with a message from Verena: 
ENJOY YOUR LIFE AND DON'T FORGET ME. Again, he nearly began to cry. 
After a while he turned and started to walk slowly uphill towards the Swiss army 
barracks to claim refuge in Switzerland. 'There someone should even speak some 
French...' he mused...

Raynal spent the next eight months in a refugee camp for about 300 members of 
French military. Located conveniently in the French-speaking area near Neuchatel, 
the time was rather uneventful. He would even say just as boring as the POW camp 
in Germany. There was at least enough food and a light work, and Raynal tried to 
exercise his body and regain his strength at every spare moment. He even took 
boxing lessons from one of his comrades, a pre-war bantamweight European 
champion. The comrades often asked him to relate his adventurous journey and he 
did, but never mentioned the part with Verena, as he was afraid they would have 
him for a liar.

>>From time to time the inhabitants of the camp were allowed to roam the
countryside around the camp and spend their 1.5 francs-per-month allowance
(ten glasses of bier or so). True to his earlier reputation of a ladies man, he started 
to flirt with local girls on several occasions, but always stopped himself after a 
while. 'No, that wouldn't be right. I have to wait till the war ends and then...' he 
thought.

The entire camp also impatiently listened every evening to BBC radio; the Allied 
landing in Normandy in June came as a great impulse for them. Since then, they 
kept asking the Swiss authorities to be released, but it wasn't until the beginning of 
September 1944, when the Allied advance reached the Swiss border near Geneva, 
that Raynal and the rest had the opportunity to return to their home country. By that 
time Pontarlier, his hometown lying only about ten kilometres from the Swiss 
border, had been already liberated as well and Raynal enjoyed a happy reunion with 
his family at home for a week before applying again at the nearest recruitment 
center.

Then he spent almost three months re-qualifying for new types of fighter aircraft. 
He was amazed how much the pilot's jobs changed during the four years he was 
absent. They were warned in detail about new enemy fighters, including the 
Me-262 Schwalbe, the first jet fighter in history.

In mid-December he finally joined his old squadron, now stationed in Alsace.
Incidentally it was just two weeks before the Germans launched their last air
offensive in the West (Operation Bodenplatte). In the next three weeks, as the
offensive was being effectively repulsed, Raynal shot down three enemy airplanes
including one Me-262, thus officially becoming an Ace of the Air. The rest of
the war was rather routine for him -- his squadron supported a few mass
bombing raids on the remaining industrial centres of Germany, and the forcing
of the Rhine in March '45, but there were no more fights one-on-one.

His war career finally finished in Saarland, occupied by French troops on May
7th when Germany surrendered. He was able to get a three-day leave for the very
next weekend and, due to his friendship with a backup officer, managed to
borrow a motorcycle for those days. He criss-crossed the nearby Black Forest
and kept searching, asking the locals for direction, because he didn't remember 
the exact location. After being sent intentionally in the wrong direction several 
times, he stopped on the second day at another hunting lodge and asked an 
old man inside for "die Riesin Verena". Even seeing a man in French uniform the 
man was still reluctant, but when Jean told him earnestly why he was seeking her, 
he suddenly thawed and pointed him the exact way. "She is such a sweetheart, you 
were lucky to meet her. None of us would do this to an unknown person, but she is 
different. Give her my greetings, man."

And so, in the evening on the second day Jean stood in front of the lodge he
remembered so well. It was locked and at first glance it looked even deserted,
but then he noticed a faint trail of smoke coming from the chimney and fresh
oversized footsteps around the door, together with very small ones. Raynal felt like 
in dreams, thousands of thoughts twirling through his head when he leaned on the 
door and waited. Just a short time before sunset, he saw a familiar giant figure 
approaching, but much wider than could be expected. 'She couldn't have gained so 
much weight...' he thought but then he recognized that she was carrying both girls, 
now almost three years old, in a kind of a baby wrap. She looked very tired but 
then, upon seeing him at the door, she nevertheless jumped with joy, ran to him and 
lifted him, dancing all around and kissing him hundreds of times.

They didn't sleep at all that night. After they put Frederika and Johanna to sleep 
and between passionate lovemaking, they had some time to recount the happenings 
since they last met. Jean re-told his own story and asked Verena how did the fateful 
night finish for her, including how on Earth did she dispose of the threatening 
Gestapo man.

"Well, it was a risk because he could have dodged the competition during the game 
and I couldn't have done anything then. However, the Reichsmarchall cooperated 
well, even if unknowingly. I hoped that he would force everyone to attend and he 
did. Call it a woman's intuition or whatever. I had to watch the Gestapo man all the 
time and it was difficult due to the darkness. Fortunately you tackled him soon and 
you were easy to discern -- you were the only one with long sleeves. I was ready to 
fall into the water intentionally at the very start, but then I decided to wait till 
you two fell into the pond. I managed to pull him under water at the very moment when 
he inhaled, so he had his lungs full of water. I put him then between my thighs and 
waited till he stopped twitching, after just half a minute or so. With his lungs full 
of water he stayed at the bottom then....

"The next day they finally found him missing just a few minutes after your car left. 
It was obvious where he might most probably be, so they searched for him in the 
pond with a long pole and found him. However, there were no signs of violence on 
him -- I didn't have to squeeze -- and even though the second Gestapo man kept 
threatening me, no one else paid attention. Then the Reichsmarschall returned to 
say goodbye and when they told him about an 'accident', he just waved it off ? 'We 
soldiers know that accidents happen,' and everyone sped away. Later on, I was 
punished by reduction in salary for six months -- for whatever reason -- but it was 
laughable under the rationing system."

"Its amazing how smart you are, Verena! To think, in just a few seconds you 
planned a perfect crime, and executed it in a way that no one ever suspected it to 
be a murder! And how was it with the fight? Would you alone have been able to beat 
all of the 30 fighters into the water even if they all cooperated?"

"That I don't know, but maybe... I was sure from the start that they wouldn't
observe the rule against cooperation, but they still didn't, in fact, cooperate
too well. If three or more had caught each hand, I would have been helpless, but 
they didn't.

"Anyway, I wanted to keep everyone as happy as possible, so as not to attract
more attention than necessary. That's why I let them win at the end, why I dressed 
like a slut, why I played a stupid village girl that couldn't even speak Standard 
German, why I succumbed a bit reluctantly to Albert's every wish concerning the 
displays of strength..."

"Albert!" interrupted her Jean with great impatience. "Yes, you mean the prominent
civilian with the thin moustache, who took me with him to Switzerland? Who was
he?"

"You didn't realize? It was Albert Goering, the Reichsmarschall's brother. Would 
you ever believe that? A successful businessman even long before the war, he 
became a head of a conglomerate of industrial works in many occupied countries
(Reichswerke Hermann Goering) and one of the richest men in Germany. Still and
amazingly, it didn't make him a Nazi sympathizer. He actually helped over a
hundred endangered people escape from Germany to neutral countries, including
some Jews. However, you were probably the only enemy soldier among them, 
which he mentioned when I asked him point blank to help you. But that was after he 
had promised to do whatever I said if I could raise his brother in his armchair over 
my head, he couldn't refuse.

"It was he, at the first place, who decided that the 1943 hunt will be held in my 
precinct. He remembered me from my circus times and wanted to present me to the 
high-end hunters, as if I was a piece of luxury. The Reichsmarchall agreed out of 
curiosity, I believe. And that's all..."

Before sunrise, the two lovers had settled on everything. Verena agreed to leave her 
job in the Black Forest, move to the Jura Mountains and become Mrs. Raynal. The 
wedding ceremony, with only two necessary witnesses, was performed by the 
chaplain of Jean's squadron at the end of May 1945, a day before the unit was 
dissolved and its members de-mobilised.

They lived with Jean's parents in Portarlier for a while before building their own 
house. Due to her nice and friendly attitude, as well as natural beauty, Verena won 
the hearts of all the family, and the town's neighbors. Even though, until the post-
war nationalist tensions subsided, she had to be announced as a Swiss girl from 
Basel area. This explained the easily discernible German accent that never left her.

Jean bought two leftover Army trucks, and step-by-step, he built from scratch a 
successful expedition company. Verena accepted gladly a job as a mover, happy to 
have daily exercise for her muscles. After a few years, when circuses started to 
roam again throughout Europe, they joined in with their children for two seasons 
before returning to mundane life.

* * * *

An epilogue was added to this story a year after the war, in summer of 1946. In a 
quiet evening Jean and Verena were sitting on an armchair (Verena now being 
pregnant again and again with twins), listening to a radio station covering the end of 
the Nuremberg trial. They overheard that, together with others, the Reichsmarschall 
Hermann Goering was sentenced to death as a war criminal and would be hanged in 
a couple of days.

"Oh, speaking of him, I recall that I forgot to pass you one message from him," said 
Verena smiling." Concerning the "roulade a la Jurassienne" that you had prepared 
on that day, he told me it was the best hunter's meal that he ever had enjoyed. 
Whatever else he was, he was a rich man who spent his life in luxury and had 
undergone dozens of hunts, so he had a lot of gourmet experience to compare. It 
seemed to me that he was sincere then, not just flattering... It's good that I can pass 
the message to you while he is still alive," she sneered.

"I just hope that he will enjoy the gallows as much, or the last meal they give to him 
before they hang him," retorted Jean. "But I also learned something interesting. 
Before I tell you, my love, tell me: were you tempted, as well as I was, to poison 
them all and dispose of them?" 

"Of course; many times. But that wouldn't have helped anybody."

"Precisely so," said Jean. "Just the opposite, it might have even prolonged the war. 
I learned only after demobilization, when discussing with a few military experts the 
Swallow, Schwalbe, Messerschmitt 262 jet airplane. It was quite revolutionary at 
that time, much faster than almost any Allied bomber or fighter airplane, and at the 
end of 1943, a mass production of them was ready to be started. If they'd have had 
enough Swallows, they could have taken the air superiority in the West again, and 
maybe even repulsed the Allied landing in Normandy, because its air support was 
crucial. God only knows how much longer could that cursed war take then....

"But we now know that a week before Christmas 1943, a meeting was held in the
Fuehrer's camp where the Reichsmarchall repeatedly and annoyingly asked to
re-build the Swallow as a light bomber. At the end of a long discussion, against all 
opposition from experts and generals alike, he managed to persuade the Fuehrer. 
Such a conversion turned out to be impossible, and the mass production of 
Swallows started only after summer of next year, when it was already too late for 
the Nazis to use them properly at the battlefield," finished Jean his story.

"A week after our common adventure..." smiled Verena. "So we were in position
to change the history?" 

"Yes, but it would only have been for worse," confirmed Jean. "The world was 
lucky once again, wasn't it?"


The End