War Girl Lotte Read online

  Lotte

  War Girl Series

  Book 2

  Marion Kummerow

  War Girl Lotte

  Marion Kummerow

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyright © 2017 Marion Kummerow

  This book is copyrighted and protected by copyright laws.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, and places in this book exist only within the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons or locations is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by http://www.StunningBookCovers.com

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Author’s Notes

  Contact Me & Other Books

  Chapter 1

  Germany, September 1943

  Lotte Klausen rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen only seconds after she woke up. Near the stove, Aunt Lydia and her five children stood in line, youngest to oldest like stair steps. Washed, combed, and adorable like never before.

  The moment Lotte flew inside, they opened their mouths in unison and sang “Happy Birthday,” their sweet little voices filling the room. Despite Lotte’s disgruntlement about having to spend her birthday in some godforsaken village in Lower Bavaria, far away from her family in the capital, she was moved to tears.

  “Happy seventeenth birthday,” Aunt Lydia beamed and pressed Lotte against her belly, swollen with cousin number six. Her children did the same, and Lotte could barely breathe from being hugged by so many warm bodies at the same time.

  “Open presents,” Maria, the two-year-old, demanded.

  “And blow out the candles on your cake,” another cousin added.

  On a signal from Aunt Lydia, her cousins obediently stepped aside, and Lotte stared with awe at the cream gateau, topped generously with whipped cream, fresh blackberries, and two lit candles in the shapes of a 1 and a 7. No doubt Lydia had made the candles herself.

  “Thank you so much.” Lotte blinked tears of emotion away, then blew out the candles, closed her eyes, and made her secret birthday wish.

  I want to leave this godforsaken village.

  “What you wish? What you wish?” Maria hopped up and down while pulling on Lotte’s skirt.

  Lotte put a finger to her lips, giving her a secret smile. “You know I can’t tell, or it won’t come true.”

  The children giggled as Lydia gestured toward the chair at the head of the table. “Aren’t you going to sit down?”

  “Of course, forgive me, Aunt. The cake looks wonderful.” After taking her seat, she reached for her first present. It was from her mother, and as she opened it, she wished she could be with her family in Berlin. Before she could blink it away, a single tear rolled down her cheek as she remembered happier times before the war. Times when they’d all lived together – Mutter, Vater, her older siblings, Ursula, Anna, and Richard. Her father and her brother, who was one year older than Lotte, had both exchanged the family apartment for the trenches, and they hadn’t heard from them in months.

  She added a second birthday wish to the first. Please, let Vater and Richard come home safely.

  Carefully opening the adhesive tape with a knife Aunt Lydia handed her, Lotte unwrapped the box and smoothed the wrapping paper before handing it to her aunt. Forever frugal, Lydia would save it to be reused.

  A beautiful summer dress lay on the table. It was an off-white cotton adorned with bunches of bright-red cherries with green leaves. The fitted bodice and capped sleeves looked so mature, Lotte couldn’t wait to try it on.

  “It’s a beautiful dress,” Lydia said, stroking the fabric with her fingers while warning her children not to do the same.

  “Yes, it is. And look, the pleated skirt will make it swing.” If only I had somewhere fun to wear it. “Oh, it’s going to look so pretty on me.”

  “Open your other presents,” her aunt urged.

  Lotte nodded and reached for the package from her sisters, carefully unwrapping the paper.

  “Oh my goodness, look at them!” she exclaimed and held up a pair of brand new plimsolls. They were light brown and sturdy with rubber soles.

  Lydia couldn’t have looked more pleased for her. “Your sisters chose a good gift.”

  Lotte looked down at her old shoes, the pink flesh of her toes peeking out where the sole and body of the shoes had separated. Her feet had grown this last year, as had the rest of her. She pushed her worn shoes off and slid the new ones on, wiggling her toes inside as she laughed in delight. “They’re perfect!”

  Aunt Lydia smiled and handed her one more package. “This one is from me.”

  Knowing the sacrifices her aunt had most likely made to gift this to her, she took the box reverently in her hands. “Thank you.” Lotte opened the package and smiled at the bright yellow pinafore her aunt had sewn for her. “Oh! It’s lovely.”

  Lydia beamed. “I’m glad you like it. You can wear it while doing your chores, so your new dress won’t get dirty.”

  Her cousins, ranging in age from two to ten, had grown tired of waiting and bounced in their chairs. “Open ours, Lotte. Open our gifts.”

  Lotte grinned and accepted the hand-painted pictures they held out to her. She oohed and aahed over them until it was finally time for cake.

  Maria climbed into her lap, her thumb tucked into her mouth. “I liked your painting, Maria,” Lotte said, giving the little girl a tight squeeze.

  Maria nodded, never removing the thumb from her mouth. Lotte laughed and then thanked each of the other children. “Your paintings were beautiful.”

  Lydia handed her the first slice of cake, and Lotte took a bite, closing her eyes as the sweet treat melted in her mouth. “It’s delicious.”

  Soon, everyone had their own piece of cake and the only sound filling the kitchen was the chewing of seven mouths. The children were excused from the table as soon as they’d finished, but Lotte hung back with her aunt. “Thank you for the pinafore and the cake. I haven’t eaten anything so delicious in ages.”

  Lydia sighed. “I was lucky. I managed to trade a chicken for honey. Our sugar rations weren’t nearly enough for the cake.” Since the farmhand had joined the Wehrmacht, and her husband had been drafted shortly thereafter, she ran the farm on her own, with nothing more than the help of her ten-year-old son and two of his friends. On top of that, she raised five children, carried another one, and had taken in her niece.

  At thirty years of age, Lydia had the calloused hands and the weathered face of an old woman. She wore her long, thick blonde hair braided into snails above her ears, making her look even more strict.

  “This war can’t g
o on forever,” Lotte said, putting on her new pinafore. While she loved the bright color and the consideration Lydia had put into the gift, she hated the way it reminded her that she had to stay with her aunt instead of her parents. She swirled around and glanced at her aunt. “It’s about time someone chased those Nazis away.”

  “Hush,” her aunt scolded. “It’s talk like that that got you sent up here in the first place.”

  Lotte made a face, but she held back what was in her mind. After a small pause, she asked, “Could I call my mother and sisters on the telephone, please?”

  “You’ll have to wait until this evening, but since it’s your birthday, you may.”

  “Thank you.”

  Even though she’d managed to keep her response calm and even, anger flooded Lotte’s body. Instead of living in the exciting capital of Berlin, doing all kinds of exciting things, her mother had banished her to the country. For two and a half years, she’d been stuck in the forlorn village of Kleindorf with a population of fewer than one hundred souls – including the dogs. And whose fault was that?

  “If it wasn’t for those damned Nazis, I wouldn’t have to beg for permission to make a telephone call. I would be living happily in Berlin with my family.” Lotte trembled with the outburst of emotion, and tears of anger wetted her eyes.

  Lydia stopped clearing the table and glared at her. “Charlotte Alexandra Klausen. You keep quiet. One day, your sharp tongue and rash behavior are going to get you into real trouble, and I don’t want to be the one who has to tell your mother when that happens.”

  Because she’d received similar warnings many times before, Lotte only shrugged her shoulders nearly to her ears. What could happen to her? Seriously? In this boring village, the biggest danger was to be accidentally kicked by a cow while milking her.

  Later that evening, she called her mother’s home and grinned when Anna answered. Anna was the middle sister, four years older than Lotte, with straight blonde hair that made her look demure, like an angel – when she was anything but.

  Her sister was strong-willed, ambitious, and ferociously independent. At the age of ten, after two years of dissecting frogs, snails, and other insects, she’d announced that she was going to be a scientist, a human biologist. The choice had caused her parents much anxiety, since it was a totally inappropriate profession for a woman. After years of fighting against her parents’ conservative mindset as well as the Nazi ideal of the demure and obedient Hausfrau, Anna had relented and trained as a nurse. Lotte suspected this was just a temporary defeat. No doubt, when the war was over, Anna would pursue her dream again.

  “Happy birthday, little sister,” Anna congratulated, her voice sounding tinny over the line.

  “Thank you. And thank you so much for the plimsolls. They are amazing. They fit like a glove. Smashing.”

  A giggle pierced her ear. “Glad you like them. How’s your life over there?”

  “Don’t even ask,” Lotte pouted into the phone; then she lowered her voice. “I can’t talk right now, but if nothing happens soon, I might die of boredom.”

  Anna laughed. “Come on, it can’t be that bad. And you wouldn’t want to be in Berlin right now with air raids every other night.”

  “You have no idea.” Lotte sighed into the phone and glanced at her feet. At least now she had nicely fitting plimsolls without holes. A definite plus for the next race against her cousins.

  “Do you want to talk to Ursula and Mutter?” Anna asked.

  She wanted to talk for hours with her sister but knew her time was already growing short. “Yes, please.”

  “Happy birthday, Lotte.” The oldest at twenty-two, Ursula was blessed with the same blonde hair as the rest of the family, apart from Lotte. Lotte was a fiery redhead with golden strands from the sun. At least Ursula shared her curls. But while Lotte’s mane was untamable on the best days and an outright mess on bad days, Ursula somehow managed to comb her hair into elegant waves.

  “Thank you. It’s so good to hear your voice.”

  “How’s my baby sister?” Ursula asked. Usually, Lotte hated to be called baby, but today she missed her sisters so much, she didn’t rise to the bait.

  “Considering the circumstances, I’m fine,” Lotte answered in a grave voice.

  “The circumstances are utter boredom, I suppose?” Ursula chuckled into the phone and Lotte couldn’t help but laugh with her. “Come on, sweetie, let me get Mutter for you.”

  Lotte waited, and a moment later her mother’s voice came across the line. “Charlotte, darling! Happy birthday, my sweet girl.”

  The words were like a warm cloak wrapping itself around her shoulders. “Thank you, Mutter. The dress is so beautiful.”

  “I hope it fits you.”

  “It fits perfectly.” Lotte was wearing the new dress and moved her hips to make the skirt swing, although her mother couldn’t see it. “And I love the way it swings around my knees. It’s smashing.”

  It was her new favorite word.

  “Smashing?” Lotte saw the way her mother raised her eyebrow at her choice of words. “Are you behaving and not giving Lydia grief?”

  “Of course, Mutter. But please, when can I return home?” Two and a half years in the countryside felt like a lifetime, and Lotte had more dreams for her life than milking cows or harvesting crops.

  “Oh, sweetheart. We’ve been over this so many times. You’re too outspoken and headstrong. One negative comment about the current regime heard by the wrong person, and you could endanger not only yourself but the entire family.”

  “I hate it here,” Lotte whispered. Aunt Lydia was kind, and Lotte loved her cousins, but it wasn’t the same as being with her own family.

  “I wish you could be here, too, but for now Aunt Lydia’s is the safest place for you.”

  “Fine. But only until the war is over, right?” Lotte wondered what would happen if Hitler won the war. Would she have to live in this forlorn place for the rest of her days? God, no! Something had to give.

  “We’ll see. Can you please let me talk to Lydia for a moment?”

  “Of course.” Feeling forlorn, Lotte called her aunt.

  Lydia was her mother’s youngest sister, and more than a decade ago, she’d married the son of a farmer and moved with him to Kleindorf.

  Lotte handed her aunt the receiver and left the room. With watery eyes, she changed into the pinafore and went to the stable to milk the cows. The chores didn’t care that it was her birthday.

  Chapter 2

  The summer was exceptionally hot, and Lotte and her two oldest cousins hurried to finish their chores. In the heat of the afternoon, they headed for a nearby pond surrounded by large trees. After frolicking in the cool water for a while, they stretched out on the grass to be dried by the sun.

  Lotte glanced at her new plimsolls. A grin spread across her face, and she couldn’t resist the challenge.

  “First up the tree wins,” she shouted at her cousins and tied the shoelaces as fast as she could. Clad in her bathing costume and wonderful birthday shoes, she ran for the highest tree and climbed from branch to branch, like Tarzan.

  “I beat you,” Lotte announced in a sing-song voice as soon as she reached the top with a hammering heart.

  Jörg, her eldest cousin, shot her a dirty look. “That’s because you got those smashing new plimsolls. Otherwise–”

  “Excuses, nothing but excuses,” Lotte teased and cheered for herself, “I always win. I’m the fastest and best climber around.”

  They climbed back to the ground and cooled their scratched hands and knees in the pond. Much too soon, the church bell chimed six times.

  “We better go back, or we’ll be in trouble with Mom,” Jörg said. Despite his ten-and-a-half years, he shouldered most of the heavy labor on the farm and oftentimes acted as if he were the man of the house.

  “Yes, ignoring our chores won’t give us bonus points.” Lotte slipped into her pinafore, and they raced each other back to the farm. She grabbed the milk
pail and the wooden stool as she entered the large structure, the cows already forming a queue.

  “What’s your name again? Was it Maribelle or Bess?” she addressed the first cow in line, but the cow didn’t seem to have an opinion one way or the other. Not even a moo indicated her preference. Lotte filled the pail and then poured the milk into the strainer near the barn door to cool and separate. The next day she’d ladle the cream, and Aunt Lydia would churn it into butter.

  Since Uncle Peter and the farmhand had both been drafted years ago, no grown-up men resided on the farm, and all the children, except for the two youngest, had to chip in with the chores. Lotte’s daily task was to take care of the animals – milking the cows, collecting the eggs from the hen house, feeding the hens and the sows. Sandra tended the vegetable and herbs garden while Jörg was in charge of the tractor, sowing, plowing, mowing, and whatever else needed to be done. Helmut cared for the vast orchard meadow.

  At least one thing is better in Kleindorf than in the capital, Lotte thought as she licked the cream from her lips after taking a big sip of fresh, warm milk. In the few weeks she’d visited her family in January, she’d experienced firsthand how much better and more abundant the food was on Lydia’s farm than what could be obtained with the ration cards in Berlin.

  Returning to her milking duties, she moved the stool and began to milk the next cow. She was so absorbed in her work that she hadn’t seen anyone approach and jumped, almost knocking over the pail, when she suddenly heard footsteps.

  “Lotte?” a low voice asked.

  Lotte looked around but couldn’t see anyone, her heart hammering hard against her ribs. “Yes. Who are you? And where?”

  “It’s me, Rachel.” A skinny girl Lotte’s age with dark brown hair and brown eyes appeared.

  “You gave me a fright.” Lotte smiled at her neighbor, but her smile fell moments later when she noticed the terror in the girl’s eyes and the dried tears on her cheeks. “Rachel, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”