"Eh?"

"You have twenty four hours to gather your things."

With fingers shaking he put the cup down.

"I beg your pardon General."

"You'll be leaving with me. You will personally oversee the archaeological excavations for me. Report to me what the SS unit is doing, its whereabouts, every move they make and who, and this is most important, who they report to."

Koenig felt sick, his stomach like lead.

"General I've never served at the front line," he began, his voice shaky at first, "I have always held a post here in Wehrmacht headquartersa."

Von Brockhorst cut him off.

"You are a serving officer are you not?"

"Sir I haven't fired a gun since basic training."

"You carry a sidearm."

"Of course General but only when I'm outside the office."

Von Brockhorst held up his hand to silence the colonel.

"I want you ready to leave in twenty four hours Colonel."

That was it. Nothing more to be said. Koenig felt that the words sounded like a death sentence. He stood and saluted smartly. The salute was returned. Koenig turned and stormed from the room.

"Oh come on Hans," Elsa said bouncing up and down on the bed. Koenig sat at the end of the bed. His jacket was slung carelessly over a chair, his braces were hanging loosely by his hips. He reached down and removed his expensive riding boots. Elsa moved over to him and undid some buttons on his shirt. She slipped a hand inside and raked her fingernails across his hairy chest. This never failed to arouse him but today she got no reaction. Exasperated she dropped her head until it rested on his shoulder. They were both staring out of the window as the rain snaked down the glass.

Her apartment was on the sixth floor. She lived there with her husband a Major in the SS. Koenig had never met him. There were photographs of him around the apartment but Elsa always turned them so he couldn't be seen. More for herself than her Wehrmacht lover. The pangs of guilt had long since faded. Her husband was stationed just outside Berlin and on the few occasions he did have leave he preferred to spend it with his friends at the casino.

Elsa blew gently on Koenig's neck. He continued to look out the window as he put his boots tidily together. She sighed and moved away from him. She went over to a mirrored dressing table where the package he had brought her lay.

"Is this for me?"

He nodded.

She carefully undid the package and squealed with delight when she saw what was inside. She turned with it clutched to her chest.

"Thank you, thank you," she said.

He smiled briefly.

She was wearing just a blouse and a pair of knickers and she took a silk stocking and bunched it in her hands, put her foot into the gathered material and began rolling it up her leg. She smoothed it over her thigh and repeated the act with the other one.

"They're lovely," she said.

She stood in front of him, unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall to the floor. The air was cold in the apartment and her nipples were hard, her breasts round and firm. She came back over to him and ran her hands through his hair as her bare chest touched his. They kissed hard as she pressed against him and slowly their bodies sank to the bed, their legs quickly entwining. He ran his hands over the material of her stockings and their feel aroused him. She noticed and put her hand down to his loins.

"Ooh Hans," she said feeling him harden in her hand. He slid her knickers off over her bottom and squeezed the flesh. Soon they were giggling and sighing.

After, when they were both spent he lay on his back. She lay on her side resting her head and one arm on his chest.

"That was wonderful Hans," she said blowing a strand of her hair from her face.

He continued to stare at the ceiling.

"I'm going away Elsa."

She looked up at his face then slowly lifted her head to look into his eyes.

"Going away?"

"North Africa with the fifth Panzer army," he smirked to himself "I've never been called for action before, ever."

In truth Hans Koenig was a coward who had always pulled strings through his friends. This time he knew he couldn't get out of it.

He had accepted his fate.

"I don't want you to go away my love. It's dangerous for you."

"Nonsense," he said with a courage he did not feel, "I'll be fine. I will probably be back in a few weeks. Six maybe, as soon as Field Marshall Rommel has won the war in the desert. I'll be back in Berlin before you know it."

Tears were running down her face which she wiped away herself.

"I don't want you to go."

"I must my love. If I tried to remain I would be branded a coward."

They both sat up on the bed. She took his hand in her hers.

"I love you Hans."

"I love you too Elsa."

"Promise me you'll take good care of yourself."

"You know I will."

He got up and began to get dressed.

"I must be going."

"Can you not stay the night."

"I can't my love. I must pack. I leave tomorrow or the day after. I don't know."

She watched him get dressed. Her little Hans. He crossed the room to her and kissed her. Then he pulled away and went for the door.

"Marry me," she suddenly blurted out.

His hand was on the door knob poised. He let it go.

"You're already married."

"My father is a lawyer and a member of the Nazi party. He could arrange a quick divorce for me. I have money. We could try to get to Switzerland together. You need nota."

He grabbed her arms and pinned her against him to shut her up. She was crying now.

"My love there is not enough time. It would never work."

She was nodding trying to convince herself.

"Elsa!" he snapped.

She looked up at him.

"I promise on my return that we will work out a plan for us."

He kissed her goodbye once again at the door. She opening it only a fraction because she was semi nude. On the floor below another door creaked open slightly. An old woman's face peering up the stairs.

Elsa closed the door quietly behind her after Koenig had disappeared around the first corner of the stairs. He went down to the next level two steps at a time and noticed a door slightly ajar. There was someone there, he could see. The door opened a crack more and he could see wrinkled cheeks.

"Good evening mother," he called out to the unknown person just out of friendliness. Berliners these days were afraid of the sound of footsteps on their stairs.

"Heil Hitler," the voice called out.

"Heil Hitler, " he replied.

The door closed but not completely.

Down at the main entrance to the apartment block Koenig put his hat on, adjusted it to the angle he liked and going outside he almost collided with another man coming in.

"Sorry, Sorry," Koenig said and as he moved back he looked at the other man. He was an SS Major.

They both saluted and Koenig left. The other officer having not spoken a word. Once outside Koenig looked back. The other man was just staring.

'The arrogance of the SS'

Elsa was retouching her make up when there was a knock at the door. She quickly threw a nylon chemise over her shoulders and ran happily to answer, laughing to herself.

"Silly Hans. He was always leaving things behind."

She swung the door wide open.

"What have you forgotten this timea.?"

She stopped dead in her tracks. It was her husband.

"Otto," she said genuinely surprised, hoping to cover the slip.

"Forgotten?" he asked "who did you think it would be?"

"Otto you're home."

She ran back inside leaving him to close the door. He looked around their apartment. He hadn't been home in weeks. She was back at her dressing table humming to herself with a pretended happiness.

"Elsa," he called, a dangerous tone to his voice.

She was about to brush her hair but stopped. She looked at him through the mirror. She was afraid of him. He was known to lose his temper in an instant and lash out in an instant.

"Elsa," he called again.

She turned to face him keeping her eyes low, avoiding his face.

"I asked you who you thought I was."

"I thought you were Mrs Drescher from the flat below."

"The old hag shouted Heil Hitler to me as I passed her door."

"She's not an old hag."

"Always poking her nose out of the crack in the door as folk are passing, nosey old bag."

"She's very sweet. I sometimes invite her up for tea and a cake. She's very nice."

Otto Wurz went over to the drinks cabinet and found a decanter of brandy and a glass.

"Do you want a drink?"

"No."

He poured himself one. He had been drinking all of the previous night where he had been playing cards with friends. He emptied the brandy in one gulp and poured another. Elsa watched him nervously in the mirror as she continued to brush her hair.

"Nosey old haga." he said again, most of his anger fuelled by the alcohol, aimed at the old lady who lived below.

"Mrs Drescher is a dear old lady. Did you know her son died in the first world war?"

"Pity she hadn't gone too!"

"Otto that's a horrible thing to say."

"Well it's true," he pointed his index finger of the hand holding the glass, "you'll see. Adolf Hitler has said that there is no room for people like her in our society. If only she was Jewish," Otto said the drink taking him now. Elsa was afraid but didn't show it. Now he was unpredictable.

"You've got her wrong. She's just a sweet old lady who would never wish anyone any harma."