Aliza, my love by James Walker

Author:James Walker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: love story;Jews;Nazis;heroine;Germany;World War II
Publisher: The Conrad Press
Published: 2019-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

20

Later the same month

The Saturday of the annual reunion dinner of my wartime regimental battalion had arrived. It was an event I always looked forward to, bringing with it the opportunity to meet old comrades-in-arms with whom I had forged a special bond, albeit that a quarter of a century had now elapsed since the end of the supposed war to end all wars.

Because of the continuing bombing it was to be a lunch time rather than an evening affair. However, we were still able to use the same Berlin hotel in which we had been meeting for the best part of twenty years, and, despite the war, most of those who had been able to regularly attend every year had been able to do so this time.

As I had made my way to the hotel at around midday, I had noted that it was warmer than of late and that there was a feeling of spring in the air. Normally this would have given me pleasure, but on this occasion it merely accentuated my fear that an allied invasion of France might only be a matter of weeks away.

Upon entering the hotel the first person I set eyes on was my one time Battalion Commander, Conrad Wertheim, a tall, robust man, now a leading industrialist, and in his mid fifties. We greeted each other with genuine affection and, as happened every year, I was quickly swept along in a round of salutations and handshakes with other former comrades.

As I’d anticipated, with a rapidly growing sense of dread, conversation was dominated by news of the current conflict.

‘It feels just like nineteen eighteen all over again,’ Conrad commented sadly as we drank aperitifs while waiting to be seated for our meal. ‘Don’t you agree, Otto?’

‘I fear that it may be a lot worse than that, Conrad. At least that year began well.’

‘With the defeat of the Russians, you mean?’

‘Yes, of course, whereas this time…’ I allowed my voice to trail away in gloomy introspection.

‘This time we shall fight to the death,’ declared Albrecht Voss, formerly an Oberleutnant in the company I commanded, who was standing next to me. He had always been a proud man, I reflected; fiercely patriotic, and driven literally to tears by the nineteen eighteen defeat. How many more might he now have to shed, I wondered ruefully.

‘Yes, I fear that we will,’ I replied.

‘Enough of this defeatist talk, gentlemen,’ Wilhelm Veits, another party to our conversation, insisted. Like me, he was a former Company Commander. ‘If the Americans and British attempt to invade France they will be thrown back into the sea.’

‘You were forever the optimist, Wilhelm. As I recall, you remained convinced that we would still capture Paris in 1918, even after we were forced to retreat back into Belgium.’

This kindly rebuke from Conrad brought smiles to everyone’s faces and within moments, we were summoned to take our seats in the hotel’s palatial dining room. At first the mood of the occasion seemed especially sombre to me.

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