Never Turn Back by Lorna Lee

Author:Lorna Lee [Lee, Lorna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Early Girl Enterprise LLC
Published: 2014-10-12T05:00:00+00:00

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Little Kurt was a chubby, blonde handsome boy who had convinced himself he was one of Hitler’s best soldiers, second only to his father. Meri learned how to handle him: give him orders as if they were on an important Nazi mission, Meri the commanding officer and Kurt the brave soldier. Soldat kept Kurt both entertained and compliant.

“Soldat does what I tell him to do. You must, too,” Meri said on her second day caring for the child. Meri dare not scold the boy, even though he had been running amok all morning. I must find a way to control the little monster.

“Why? I’m a soldier and I’m strong!” He stood as tall as his four-year-old frame allowed and spoke in German.

“Kurt, speak French. You’re capable and I don’t understand German.”

Kurt rolled his eyes and repeated himself in French. It lacked the demanding and abrupt German tone, which delighted Meri and seemed to disappoint Kurt.

“That’s better. So you’re a soldier. Do you know what the name ‘Soldat’ means?” Not waiting for a response, Meri told him. “It means soldier. He does everything I ask of him. Soldiers do as they are commanded, Kurt. Always!”

The boy’s eyes widened. Soldat’s size and energy fascinated him. “If Soldat is your strong soldier and obeys your commands, I will too.” He’s so young to be obsessed with war. Are all little German boys war hungry? Kurt seemed afraid to touch Soldat, yet Meri sensed he wanted the dog as his best friend.

“Good. Now let’s take your sister and Soldat out for a walk. If you’re very good, perhaps I’ll let you give Soldat his treat when we return.”

Kurt nodded enthusiastically.

Meri made sure Karla was properly tucked into the new carriage Madame arranged to have delivered to the house. Her mind flashed to the rickety old baby carriage sufficing as Jeannine’s only crib and carriage. Shaking the image and resentment off, she put the leash on the very anxious Soldat, looked at Kurt, and said in her most authoritative voice, “March!”

Kurt smiled and marched.

As they walked the grounds, Meri considered her situation. She was pushing a stylish new baby carriage around lush gardens with a stranger’s four-month-old girl inside it while her four-month-old daughter, ten kilometers away, lay in a cramped, dark apartment full of Finns, probably being neglected. I’m working, yet living very comfortably. My daughter is merely surviving as, essentially, an orphan. How did I let this happen? What can I do to fix—

“Herr! Herr! Herr!” Kurt tried to get Meri’s attention. When yelling did not work, he pulled at the skirt of her droopy uniform.

“Oui, Kurt.” Meri became both annoyed and disoriented. Her thoughts were not mere daydreams; they were matters of life and death.

“I want to hold Soldat’s leash.” Again, he spoke in German.

“I only understood ‘Soldat.’ Kurt, use your French!”

“Herr! Oui, Herr!” Kurt stood at attention.

Meri shook her head and smiled. “Must you call me ‘Herr’ Kurt?”

“What else do soldiers call their commanders?”

Meri shrugged.

“Then I’ll call you ‘Herr.’ I want to hold the leash, Herr.

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