[FIC] Choices (part 3C) {Chapter 42}
Posted: Thu Oct 30, 2003 2:19 am
Support personnel were putting tables and chairs away, while the maintence crew removed the remaining tarps covering the hangar bay's heavy ordinance.
A red light was flashing, and a claxon had halted a mere moment ago. Large equipment was being prepared for transfer aboard the TDD-1 from a supply ship disguised as a super tanker. A new Arm Slave was amongst the expected deliveries.
The Chief Mechanic was busy working at a portable fusion furnace, shaping metal parts to fit within needed tolerance. The pounding of his hammer echoed across the work area. The red glow from the heat source seemed to surround him in a sphere of eerie flickering light. The goggles, gloves, and thick leather apron he wore were for protection from his work.
The ear protectors he wore served another purpose entirely.
Kurz Weber sat in the open cockpit of his M9. He turned the volume down temporarily, watching Bobo swing his hammer with the vigor of a much younger man. He listened the the slam and reverb of the hammer and its echo. "Damn. That's a pretty good beat! Oh yeh!!!"
He turned his music back up. Way up. He smiled. Real big. "Sing it Lajon! My man!!!" Burning angry music! The bottom heavy riffs of Sevendust's "Enemy" blared forth from the newly jury-rigged speaker system. Kurz used a soldering iron and a crimping tool as drum sticks.
The music was dark, pessimistic, and bitter. Kurz found it uplifting, exhilerating. The harder and more agressive the music got, the harder and faster he banged away. He was in alternative metal heaven. Looks like the new system was shaping up mighty fine.
He was feeling a whole lot better now. The incident from earlier that day was nearly forgotten. He imagined Greta's face on the Arm Slave control console, whacking on it to the bass drum kick.
Motion caught his eye and he looked up. Greta's face again---except this time it was attached to Greta. She was standing at the foot of his M9, looking up at him.
Talk about your big time mood breaker!
She had clearly seen him looking down at her, so he couldn't pretend he was unaware of her presence. He considered simply ignoring her, but that would be childish. Besides, he admitted, it wasn't entirely her fault that the two of them had gotten off on the wrong foot.
Kurz turned the music down to where it was nearly inaudible. "Master Sgt. Heinrich, how may I be of service to you?" He kept his tone even and respectful. He could do this.
"Ah, it is no longer Bundesbabe?" Her voice was relaxed, not accusatory.
Kurz was dumbstruck for a brief moment. He reverted to the Usual Kurz Weber. "Well, it had been Bundes-byatch for a good while there!" He put his hands across his chest and struck a rapper's pose. "But I got better."
"I see. Perhaps 'Greta' would be an appropriate compromise. May I call you Kurz?" Her posture was casual, not defensive.
"Okay...and free of charge. But I'll have to warn you, I thought about being formal and proper, but that's not me. Without thinking, I might toss a 'babe' or 'babeschen' in there. Nothing personal!" He braced himself, waiting to see if she would go Rottweiler on him again.
"Warning understood. An Arm Slave pilot must accept all sorts of risk, nicht wahr?" There was a tentative grin. But her eyes were uncertain.
Kurz stood up, preparing to climb down and speak with Greta on equal footing.
"You can turn your music back up, if you like. I do not mind" Greta sounded entirely sincere.
"You got it, babe!" Kurz cringed momentarily, but true to Greta's words, there were no fireworks. He turned the music up some, and slid down his M9 to the floor. What was up? Maybe the iron woman had a softer side after all.
***Getadelt wird wer Schmerzen kennt, vom Feuer das die Haus verbrennt. Ich werf ein Licht In mein Gesicht. Ein heisser Schrei, Feuer frei!***
A blend of grinding metal metal guitars and industrial noise accompanied growling German vocals. Rammstein. Oh yeh!
"Rammstein" Greta said as Kurz walked up. "Feuer frei."
For a moment, Kurz stared in shock. This small and beautiful young woman knew Rammstein? Greta caught the look, and braced herself. She hoped Kurz would not laugh or rush to some judgement about what she should or shouldn't like.
"You betcha! I've got to say I'm rather surprised!" Greta felt a sinking feeling inside. "That's just too cool, Fraulein." It was her turn to be surprised. She returned Kurz' smile. Music. The universal tongue.
"They used to play the album in the barracks a lot when it came out. I prefer "Sensucht" myself, however." Greta was serious.
"Doesn't every one? Oh Yeh!" That gave Kurz an idea. He would have to add "Du Hast" to his mission disc.
"As it turned out, as a child, I had been on the American air base at Ramstein, watching the airshow with my brothers, when the Italian Air Force precision team crashed. The band named themself after that location." Greta was lost in thought for a moment, remembering the incident, and mourning the pilots and people in the crowd who had died. Why had she shared that fact?
After a minute of silence, Kurz attempted to lighten the mood. "I tought the name came from a ram stone."
"That's what Ramm and Stein mean, true." Greta thought a moment, brushing her bangs back out of her eyes. "Kurz Weber...that's a good Germanic name. Is your family in Germany?"
"I was born in Japan, and lived in Edogawa for my first fourteen years. My father has family in Austria and Germany, but I haven't been back to either of the estates since I was a child." Kurz' tone of voice was less than enthusiastic. "My father would gladly push me back there to carry on family traditions he was only too happy to leave behind."
"I understand," Greta said, knowing the reason for Kurz' sulleness regarding his family. "Sgt. Major Mao told me a lot about you."
"Great! Who knows what she told you. I have to find some special way to thank her! " Greta couldn't tell if he were joking or serious.
"Mostly, it was good things, or at least things that helped me see that you were more than I first thought. She truly cares about you...almost as if you are family." There was a loneliness and a longing in her voice.
"Yes, that's Melissa." Kurz was suddenly uneasy. "Mostly?"
"Yes. Some things she told me were...informative...or interesting." Greta had a small smirk on her face.
Oh hell. Informative? Interesting? Those are the kind of words women use to be polite to total losers. Melissa would pay! "Interesting? Informative? Didn't you mean to say awe inspiring or amazing?"
"Um..." Greta worked to keep from smiling. "I found it amazing that you were a model."
What did she mean by that? "Are you trying to say that you cannot see me as a model?" Kurz struck a subtle pose. Take THIS babeschen!
"No, not at all."
"Ah! Then you CAN recognize my splendid lordliness. What you meant to say was that you think I'm amazing AND you can see why I'm a model?" Kurz bowed.
"No."
Kurz almost tripped over his own feet as he snapped his head back up too quickly, an incredulous look on his face. "Then...what..."
"As a man, I thought it was very interesting that you were a model." Greta kept her voice neutral. Kurz felt his hackles going up. Was she implying something about his manhood because he had been a model?
"I sould explain, so I do not give you the wrong impression. It is hard to reconcile a model being a warrior of the type Sgt. Major Mao described."
"Oh. Whew. You had me worried there a minute, babe." Greta winced a little. But, she was getting used to 'babe.'
"What else did helpful Miss Melissa tell you about me?"
"Let's see...she asked me if I enjoyed French food. When I told her I did, she seemed very pleased, and said that you did as well. She told me to ask you about a fine French Restaurant you visited in Tokyo." Greta looked at Kurz in such a manner that he knew her statement was also a question.
"Wel-l-l-l-l...I don't want to bore you with that kind of talk now." Kurz tried to sound affable, not desperate.
"Ah-h-h-h-h...I see...that's alright. She mentioned something about a tape she could lend me. She said that it would help me understand the man I would be fighting with." Greta didn't know what was on that tape; judging by the look on Kurz' face, it must be something worth seeing.
"Uh...ah...do you mean fighting with, or fighting beside?" That ought to be a good way to change the subject.
"We'll have to see." Kurz couldn't tell if she was serious or not. "But, speaking of fighting, Sgt. Major Mao also told me you were a talented promoter. She said you had set up a historic event for the crew of this Submarine." Greta had been uncertain why Melissa had mentioned that to her. Seeing Kurz' expression again, she added it to her list .
"Yes, that's Kurz Weber, man of many talents. But let's talk about you some, pretty lady!" Greta blushed at 'pretty lady,' but she wasn't done yet.
"But, there is more to your talents, is there not? Sgt. Major Mao told me you were an accomplished author! I am VERY impressed, as I love very much to read. She said that you had written a remarkable book especially for Sgt. Sagara, and suggested that I should attempt to get a signed copy for my own library. She also told me to tell you to rewrite the entries under 'G.'"
Greta looked truly puzzled. "What did she mean about 'G'? What type of book was it?"
If it hadn't been firmly attached, Kurz would have swallowed his tongue. "I...ah...I feel embarassed talking about my own works. I'm not one to play up my own successes!" There was a loud noise. Bobo had dropped a sledge onto his work top. His look was incredulous. He had been eavesdropping. Kurz glared at him and he smiled in return.
Unperturbed by the clang of metal, Greta had an extremely dubious look on her face. Another thing for the list. "Is Sgt. Sagara approachable? If I asked, do you think he might let me borrow his copy if I promise to return it?"
Memo to myself. Present to Melissa. Baseball bat to the back of her head. Don't have to wait until her birthday. "It takes Sousuke a while before he opens up to people. He's a really great soldier, but needs to work on his people skills. And, it was a personal book, one he would be embarrassed to share with others."
Another one for Greta's list.
"I am sorry to hear that, as the Sgt. Major mentioned another thing that I should ask him about. If he would be unwilling to talk to me, perhaps you would. I respect your desire to remain humble, but I was told that a good way to learn about you would be to ask about a list of compliments. One containing things that the women crew members had had said about you. I understood that Sgt. Sagara compiled that list...."
Kurz fought to maintain his composure. He must NOT show his opponent any weakness. "I don't want to seem selfish or rude, but we've had plenty of time to talk about me, in addition to what Melissa told you. I'm a big proponent of equality amongst the sexes. It's only fair that I get a chance to learn about you too."
He tried his biggest smile. "Besides, why put too much stock in other people's opinions? I think it's best to form your own opinion." Yes, that seemed reasonable. That would fit well with what he perceived to be Greta's psyche.
"True, there isn't too much time before my group will have to depart. I suppose I will have to ask you more about yourself another time, battle permitting."
Kurz wiped his brow, then cringed, realizing that he might have given away his sense of unease. Greta hadn't needed to see that to know that Kurz was feeling greatly relieved.
"Great! I knew you were a woman of great wisdom and fairness." Kurz wasn't holding anything back. He turned on another big smile.
Earlier, Greta would have taken that statement and smile as a sure sign that Kurz was nothing more than a flirt or a flatterer. She had a better understanding of him now. Melissa was right.
"We can get back to those questions some other day. If not, no doubt Melissa would be kind enough to correspond with me. She seems very forthcoming." Greta couldn't entirely keep a smile off her face.
"But...."
"I know, I know...back to me." Greta paused for a moment. Just how much did she want to share with this man? To what purpose? She was finding it easy to talk with him...but in the past, there had been no shortage of cads and jokers that she had found it easy to get close to.
But, if she was going to be his comrade in battle, she should make every effort she could. And, she HAD heard a lot about his personal life from Melissa.
"I suppose I should start with my grandmother. Her choices played a big role in eveything that came after. She was living in Denmark during World War II, and the German army had designs on that country as a means to secure communications to Norway during "Weserubung." The Scandinavian countries were a big source of iron ore, of great importance to the weapon industry."
"My grandfather---a German soldier in 308th Regiment of the XXI Corps---landed at Copenhagen aboard the ship "Hansestadt Danzig."
"Danzig! Oh yeh! Another kickass band!" Kurz jumped up in the air, pumping his fist. Greta glared at him silently for a minute.
"Hey, whatcha waitin' for babe, let's hear the story!" He crossed his arms and said "Hmpf. Women!" He took a few steps back to play it safe.
"My grandmother became what was called a 'tyskerpiger,' a Danish girl fraternizing with the German occupation soldiers. Most people during and post-occupation considered the tyskerpiger to be nothing more than stupid and ugly half-prostitutes. They met with considerable anger and contempt, with people calling for their removal from jobs and public places. The best treatment she got was a cold shoulder. She was continually at risk of malice and serious physical molestation."
Kurz listened attentively.
"My grandfather wanted nothing to do with her when she became pregnant with my father. If he had consumated formal relations with her, he would have been considered a risk, a bad soldier. My brothers later discovered that he had survived the war, and married a woman from the fatherland. My mother ran first to Odense, then Austria, and later settled in southern Germany."
Greta stopped, and wiped an eye. She always wondered how difficult it had been for her grandmother, raising a son by herself during post-war Germany.
"Are you OK?" Kurz asked. "You don't have to go on with this for my sake, if it's bothering you!" He didn't know why, but he felt a bit discomforted listening to this young woman's past.
"No. I'm alright. The effect this all had on my father shouldn't surprise anyone. He grew up without a male role model. His mother carried a badge of shame. His father---and the German military---were symbols of hate to him."
Kurz thought that he knew where Greta's story was going. He settled down considerably and asked Greta if she would like something to drink.
"No. But, thank you. Not long after he married my mother, my father moved to the village of Mittenwald---he was an avid skier." Greta paused a moment, and looked intently at Kurz. She changed the subject for a moment. "Kurz, do you ski?"
"What? Uh...no, I've never been."
"With a name like Kurz Weber, you cannot ski? Wenig glaubhaft." She shook her head. "You really should learn. Especially if combat ever takes you high into the mountains. It is a very good skill for a soldier to know."
She smiled, thinking about some early experiments that were going on. "Our Panzergehender battalion is even experimenting with snowplaning devices for the Arm Slaves, though I do not know how practical an idea that one is!"
"Whoa! Serious X-games stuff, babe! That might be worth looking into. At the very least, I'd buy the soundtrack!" Kurz was getting animated again.
Oberfeldwebel Heinrich continued her story. "Mittenwald was a wonderful place to grow up. The Wetterstein, Karwendel, Berechtesgarden, and Viererspitze were all nearby, and the whole family became avid mountaineers. That was all my father seemed to care about. Obviously, the happiness and well-being of his wife and children were of much lesser importance." Greta couldn't keep herself from tearing up again.
"Greta, I'm serious. You don't have to do this. You don't owe me anything." Kurz didn't want her to get depressed because of some personal point of honor that involved him, indirectly or otherwise.
"Are you saying you do not want to hear anything about me?!" Greta sounded angry now. Her eyes looked harsh, the way they had earlier.
"Not at all. I didn't ask Melissa to tell you the things she did, so you shouldn't feel you need to return the favor. Hey, I may joke about paying Melissa back, but I'm not entirely unhappy about what she did."
Kurz paused, examining his feelings for a brief while. "I don't think I could have brought myself to tell you the things that she did. It's not fair for me to put you in this situation."
"I see," Greta said, her expression unreadable. "I hadn't gotten the impression you would be this considerate to a stranger...especially one who did not react well to you at first."
"Well...you can't always judge a book by its cover, right?!" Kurz threw his hair back.
"True." Book? Greta was struck momentarily by an urge for mischief. "If you like, I will stop. We can go back to discussing that book of yours." She pushed her hair back and smiled.
"Uh...please, continue. Ah...forgive me for interupting."
"Are you certain....?"
"Yes! I mean, please."
"My father was not attentive to anyone's needs but his own. He was generous with his promises, but he never felt obliged to follow through on them. He laughed a lot, but did not seem to be a happy man. He and my mother ran an inn, and we did well when he saw fit to lend a hand."
"I resembled my grandmother to some degree...it was not to my benefit." She hung her head a moment before continuing.
"My mother was the only one who cared for me, but she was so busy, her time was limited. My brothers treated me at best as a house pet trained to fetch. At their worst, I was someone to practice their scorn, tricks, and torments on. They always laughed and joked around. I kept trying to win their approval, but nothing worked. They always promised me thatthings would get better...they never did."
"Did you have any friends?" Kurz aked quietly.
"Some. Most stayed away because my brothers were always looking for someone new to pester...or looking for girls to chase after. Those were their favorite activities outside of climbing and skiing. That, and talking with the veterans."
"Veterans?"
"The Germans had stationed mountain troops in Mittenwald during the war. A group of veterans had moved back to the village and made it their home. They were only too glad to break out the beer and tell old tales. Half mythical stories of battle, glory, excitement. My brothers were all hooked at an early age. Tagging along, I listened too, trying to show my brothers I was just like them. The veterans laughed at me, thinking I was nothing more than a cute little girl. They never took my questions about the war seriously."
Greta shook her head ever so slighly, a look of disappointment on her face.
"One by one---as they became old enough---my brothers ran off to join the military. You can imagine what my father felt about that. It was hard on my mother too, as her health was failing and my father helped less and less. The family could have used strong able bodies there, but my brothers were all too eager to move far away from home."
Greta's face hardened.
"My place was certain, or so my father said. I could look forward to a long life at the inn, keeping his dream and hard work alive. It seems, however, that his dreams soon changed. Not too long after my last brother left, my father left too. He never said where. I haven't heard from him since." It didn't seem as if Greta held any remaining affection for her father.
"Did you have to give up the inn?"
"Yes, we did. My mother stayed on as a housekeeper and cook for the new owners. Although it broke my heart to do so, I could no longer bring myself to work there. There was a military base for Gebirgsjager Battalion 233 at Mittenwald and I took a job as a transcriptionist there."
"It was an adequate job. The soldiers let me hang around after work, and I learned how to shoot. I became exceptional, better than most of them. Many of them soured after that, telling me the range was not for civilian use."
Bobo walked up unannounced. "Beggin' you pardon, Mam. I won't bother you for too long. I just thought you might know somethin' that'd help us all round here."
Greta was taken aback by the Chief Mechanic's appearence, but maintained her composure. "How my I be of assistance?"
"The music's down some. That there beanpole of a soldier ain't jumpin' about flappin' his wings. And I haven't heard him yellin' too much!!!" His face looked open, honest. "PLEASE...tell me how you did it!"
Greta smiled. Her mood lifted somewhat. "I have not done anything special. I am merely talking with him. My personal story is somewhat sad, and he is being kind and considerate."
Bobo's face went blank, then his cheeks became red and he began guffawing, holding his ample midsection. "Har har har har! You're a funny one, miss Master Sergeant! Har har har. It's OK! I'll let you keep your secret." He was still laughing whe he walked away.
Greta looked a question at Kurz, who blushed and shrugged his shoulders.
"Those soldiers who remained friendly with me soon learned that I could climb, march, and ski as well as any of them, and better than quite a few. When I was old enough, I enlisted, and was stationed there."
"I'm not sure why I joined. Maybe because I enjoyed what I had been doing. Maybe because of the tales the veterans had told, and some personal need to cleanse my country's honor. Maybe just to show my brothers what I COULD do. Maybe just because my father would have HATED it!" Greta's anger was making a guest appearence.
"So, you got to officially kick some ass...I mean, show them what you could do?"
Greta's face soured again, but not because of Kurz' language. "No. Not right away. At first, national policies limited my duties to serving as a medical assistant and playing in the unit marching band!" Greta's look could have vaporized steel.
"Hey...did you get to play any Rammstein or Danzig?" A big smile. Almost a big mistake. Greta's look silenced Kurz quicker than Melissa could.
"A couple of years ago, the policies changed, and I was allowed to join the sniper team. I thought I had finally found my place, but old habits die hard. Even government officials seemed to support discrimination. I remember an article quoting one of the Free Democrats as saying "I hope Defense Minister Scharping won't think about putting women in pink tanks." That was plastered all over the Reuters news agency! And it was hung up on the wall at my camp"
"That's just plain stupid!" Kurz said, rewarded by a quick softening of Greta's face. "I bet Melissa could lick the whole damn battalion by herself! If not, she sure as hell could with me and Sousuke backing her up!"
Kurz hadn't meant to get that worked up. "Uh...sorry."
Greta looked quietly at Kurz for a moment. "The sniper unit was not any different than any other part of the army. When they didn't think I could hear them, my team mates made all sorts of comments about me, and what role I was truly suited for." She blushed, then grew angry again. Kurz didn't need to ask her what she meant.
"For a while, I thought about resigning, but I knew that wouldn't change anything. The only way to make things better would be to perservere, set an example. Besides, the pay was good." She began to tear up again."
"My...my mother had become very ill, and couldn't work any more. Most of my pay went towards her medical bills." Greta felt a compulsion to tell Kurz what she did next. "S-she's in the hospital now. I should be by her side...but this is too important."
Kurz nodded his head. He could guess one of the things Melissa may have told Greta. "Yes," Kurz started. "But this is for her too. I bet she must be so very proud of her daughter. Were your brothers selected to play a part in the battle?"
"No." Greta shook her head. "They heard about my role, and each of them managed to let me know just how disgusted they were. They said it must be favortism, because I'm a woman. They couldn't call our mother when she was ill, or write to me when I needed support. But they were certain to find me when they learned my unit was going in, and I was part of the unit."
"Well then," Kurz said, highly animated again. "Your mother must be DOUBLY proud of you!"
Greta wiped the tears out of her eyes and looked at Kurz, feeling a strong sense of gratitude.
"I jumped a bit too far ahead, I guess. When the army was putting together a new Panzergehender unit, they needed soldiers with exceptional markmanship skills. The top scoring soldiers from each unit were invited to audition---the thinking was that anyone skilled with a gun in hand could become a talented marksman in an Arm Slave."
"Were they aware you were a woman before they made the offer?" Kurz had a good idea what her answer would be.
"No. Some officials tried to invalidate my application, noting some unheard rules and regulations. Had I been rejected outright, I would have returned to a less pleasant situation than the one I had left. The mountain troops were part of the HVK, the Hauptverteidigungskrafte...the general defense forces. The Panzergehender unit was earmarked for the KRK, the Krisenreaktionskrafte...the crisis reaction forces. The KRK routinely received all of the newer equipment---and better benefits---and that did not sit too well with the general soldier."
"But they let you try out. They let you join."
"Yes. But it was a near thing. There were concerns in some qarters about discrimination, and powerful people who did not want to be embarrassed politically made certain that anyone who wanted to try out for the role was allowed to do so. However, even they were not concerned about the individual. There were still hurdles to overcome."
"Double standards?"
"That's correct. Anyone was allowed to try. Each person's chance was supposed to be equal...they said it would be determined by performance alone. As it tured out, some people were more equal than others. Or I should say, a small minority was less equal."
"They stuck you with inferior equipment or gave you a tougher course to run?"
"Yes. The AS for the test was the new Panther 1A3 XT. Most people used that model. I was assigned a Panther 1A1 ST...with only a few days to learn its use, thanks to all of the political obstacles I had to overcome first."
"The predominant weapon used was a new computer and radar assisted gun. I had the older simpler model. When I made a mistake, I heard criticism and threat of what would happen if I did not pick up my performance. When others missed, they were given encouragment."
"Bastards. We don't have to deal with that nonsense at Mithril." Kurz was pissed. He didn't care much for injustice and foul play.
"Whoever structured things against me only succeeded in defeating himself and aiding me. The officials judging the results were not stuffed shirts...they were soldiers whose lives and whose men's lives would rest in the hands of the troops chosen to serve with them. My results stood out, especially when my handicaps came to light. The rest is history."
"Well, sooner or later excellence has to speak for itself. That's why, model or not, they couldn't help but see the magificense of Kurz Weber. Oh yeh!"
Kurz was quite able to convince himself. Greta was still a bit skeptical. "Has the treatment improved any?" Kurz asked.
"Not entirely. I'm small. I'm a woman. I had no previous mech experience. But, with my marksmanship, a lot of things were overlooked. As soon as I proved I belonged, I started to be accepted. As soon as I showed how much I excelled, I rapidly climbed in rank and responsibility. The military added sensitivity training to the basic instruction---it was supposed to caution against sexual harrassment and sexual paternalism. But, I suppose there will always be men who resent women in uniform because we shatter the way they see themselves as male fighters. Just like there are some civilian men who refuse to see women in uniform being just as feminine as other women."
"Well, that's THEIR problem, babe! I don't have a problem with women in uniform. Especially snug fitting uniforms! Oh yeh! It's hard to miss that they're women then!"
Greta looked somewhat annoyed. Kurz saw that look.
"Oh...uh...I wasn't talking about you, Greta!"
Instead of looking relieved, she looked even more irritated.
"I see. So you might think that other women soldiers might look good in these uniforms of yours, but not me?! Is that what you are saying?"
Uh oh! In der Klemme sitzen! Caught between a rock and a hard place. Should he apologize? Just laugh it off? Change the subject?
"Not at all. I just didn't want to make light of who you are or what you have accomplished." That was a good start. But, he was Kurz Weber, so he had to add "And naturally, I won't be talking about how you would look in the perfect uniform until AFTER you leave!"
He smiled, challenging her to take offense at his telling the truth.
Greta was faced with an instantaneous decision too. Laugh? That might encourage him. Scold him? That might kill the mood again. Ignore it?
She smiled. "That's quite alright, sergeant. I will make certain that I get ahold of that list of comments about you, so I too will have something to discuss with people after I leave." Yes, that ought to do quite nicely.
"Oh, that's fine, babe. I'll...personally...make certain to write up that list before you go. No need to inconvenience Sgt. Sagara."
They both smiled. It was clear there would be no clear victor here. Kurz was pleased to see that there was a softer side to Greta. She, in turn, was glad to see that Kurz was true to himself---and likely his word---no matter how flamboyant that self might be.
"Well, all that talking must have been hard work! Can you use that drink now?" At the very least, Kurz was looking for an excuse to grab himself something.
"Yes, I think that is a wonderful idea. Whatever you can find would be nice. I could certainly use a cocktail"
When Kurz returned, he did not have a pair of cocktails. He had a full cart of drinks and a bucket of ice. Greta just shook her head and grinned.
The two had a few minutes of less serious conversation before a voice called to Greta.
"Oberfeldwebel Heinrich?" A German sergeant carrying a travel bag looked to get her attention.
"Ja, Unteroffizier Schmidt?"
"Die Abflugzeit ist hier."
"Ich verstehe. Ich muss gleich da sein." Greta turned to Kurz and said apologetically "I'm sorry you went to the trouble to get all these drinks. It looks like I will have to depart shortly."
"Oh, that's no problem. I'll find a good home for them all! I just wish we had more time to talk. Perhaps I will bring another cart by after the battle."
"Versprechen? Promise?"
"Promise!"
*************************************************************
A red light was flashing, and a claxon had halted a mere moment ago. Large equipment was being prepared for transfer aboard the TDD-1 from a supply ship disguised as a super tanker. A new Arm Slave was amongst the expected deliveries.
The Chief Mechanic was busy working at a portable fusion furnace, shaping metal parts to fit within needed tolerance. The pounding of his hammer echoed across the work area. The red glow from the heat source seemed to surround him in a sphere of eerie flickering light. The goggles, gloves, and thick leather apron he wore were for protection from his work.
The ear protectors he wore served another purpose entirely.
Kurz Weber sat in the open cockpit of his M9. He turned the volume down temporarily, watching Bobo swing his hammer with the vigor of a much younger man. He listened the the slam and reverb of the hammer and its echo. "Damn. That's a pretty good beat! Oh yeh!!!"
He turned his music back up. Way up. He smiled. Real big. "Sing it Lajon! My man!!!" Burning angry music! The bottom heavy riffs of Sevendust's "Enemy" blared forth from the newly jury-rigged speaker system. Kurz used a soldering iron and a crimping tool as drum sticks.
The music was dark, pessimistic, and bitter. Kurz found it uplifting, exhilerating. The harder and more agressive the music got, the harder and faster he banged away. He was in alternative metal heaven. Looks like the new system was shaping up mighty fine.
He was feeling a whole lot better now. The incident from earlier that day was nearly forgotten. He imagined Greta's face on the Arm Slave control console, whacking on it to the bass drum kick.
Motion caught his eye and he looked up. Greta's face again---except this time it was attached to Greta. She was standing at the foot of his M9, looking up at him.
Talk about your big time mood breaker!
She had clearly seen him looking down at her, so he couldn't pretend he was unaware of her presence. He considered simply ignoring her, but that would be childish. Besides, he admitted, it wasn't entirely her fault that the two of them had gotten off on the wrong foot.
Kurz turned the music down to where it was nearly inaudible. "Master Sgt. Heinrich, how may I be of service to you?" He kept his tone even and respectful. He could do this.
"Ah, it is no longer Bundesbabe?" Her voice was relaxed, not accusatory.
Kurz was dumbstruck for a brief moment. He reverted to the Usual Kurz Weber. "Well, it had been Bundes-byatch for a good while there!" He put his hands across his chest and struck a rapper's pose. "But I got better."
"I see. Perhaps 'Greta' would be an appropriate compromise. May I call you Kurz?" Her posture was casual, not defensive.
"Okay...and free of charge. But I'll have to warn you, I thought about being formal and proper, but that's not me. Without thinking, I might toss a 'babe' or 'babeschen' in there. Nothing personal!" He braced himself, waiting to see if she would go Rottweiler on him again.
"Warning understood. An Arm Slave pilot must accept all sorts of risk, nicht wahr?" There was a tentative grin. But her eyes were uncertain.
Kurz stood up, preparing to climb down and speak with Greta on equal footing.
"You can turn your music back up, if you like. I do not mind" Greta sounded entirely sincere.
"You got it, babe!" Kurz cringed momentarily, but true to Greta's words, there were no fireworks. He turned the music up some, and slid down his M9 to the floor. What was up? Maybe the iron woman had a softer side after all.
***Getadelt wird wer Schmerzen kennt, vom Feuer das die Haus verbrennt. Ich werf ein Licht In mein Gesicht. Ein heisser Schrei, Feuer frei!***
A blend of grinding metal metal guitars and industrial noise accompanied growling German vocals. Rammstein. Oh yeh!
"Rammstein" Greta said as Kurz walked up. "Feuer frei."
For a moment, Kurz stared in shock. This small and beautiful young woman knew Rammstein? Greta caught the look, and braced herself. She hoped Kurz would not laugh or rush to some judgement about what she should or shouldn't like.
"You betcha! I've got to say I'm rather surprised!" Greta felt a sinking feeling inside. "That's just too cool, Fraulein." It was her turn to be surprised. She returned Kurz' smile. Music. The universal tongue.
"They used to play the album in the barracks a lot when it came out. I prefer "Sensucht" myself, however." Greta was serious.
"Doesn't every one? Oh Yeh!" That gave Kurz an idea. He would have to add "Du Hast" to his mission disc.
"As it turned out, as a child, I had been on the American air base at Ramstein, watching the airshow with my brothers, when the Italian Air Force precision team crashed. The band named themself after that location." Greta was lost in thought for a moment, remembering the incident, and mourning the pilots and people in the crowd who had died. Why had she shared that fact?
After a minute of silence, Kurz attempted to lighten the mood. "I tought the name came from a ram stone."
"That's what Ramm and Stein mean, true." Greta thought a moment, brushing her bangs back out of her eyes. "Kurz Weber...that's a good Germanic name. Is your family in Germany?"
"I was born in Japan, and lived in Edogawa for my first fourteen years. My father has family in Austria and Germany, but I haven't been back to either of the estates since I was a child." Kurz' tone of voice was less than enthusiastic. "My father would gladly push me back there to carry on family traditions he was only too happy to leave behind."
"I understand," Greta said, knowing the reason for Kurz' sulleness regarding his family. "Sgt. Major Mao told me a lot about you."
"Great! Who knows what she told you. I have to find some special way to thank her! " Greta couldn't tell if he were joking or serious.
"Mostly, it was good things, or at least things that helped me see that you were more than I first thought. She truly cares about you...almost as if you are family." There was a loneliness and a longing in her voice.
"Yes, that's Melissa." Kurz was suddenly uneasy. "Mostly?"
"Yes. Some things she told me were...informative...or interesting." Greta had a small smirk on her face.
Oh hell. Informative? Interesting? Those are the kind of words women use to be polite to total losers. Melissa would pay! "Interesting? Informative? Didn't you mean to say awe inspiring or amazing?"
"Um..." Greta worked to keep from smiling. "I found it amazing that you were a model."
What did she mean by that? "Are you trying to say that you cannot see me as a model?" Kurz struck a subtle pose. Take THIS babeschen!
"No, not at all."
"Ah! Then you CAN recognize my splendid lordliness. What you meant to say was that you think I'm amazing AND you can see why I'm a model?" Kurz bowed.
"No."
Kurz almost tripped over his own feet as he snapped his head back up too quickly, an incredulous look on his face. "Then...what..."
"As a man, I thought it was very interesting that you were a model." Greta kept her voice neutral. Kurz felt his hackles going up. Was she implying something about his manhood because he had been a model?
"I sould explain, so I do not give you the wrong impression. It is hard to reconcile a model being a warrior of the type Sgt. Major Mao described."
"Oh. Whew. You had me worried there a minute, babe." Greta winced a little. But, she was getting used to 'babe.'
"What else did helpful Miss Melissa tell you about me?"
"Let's see...she asked me if I enjoyed French food. When I told her I did, she seemed very pleased, and said that you did as well. She told me to ask you about a fine French Restaurant you visited in Tokyo." Greta looked at Kurz in such a manner that he knew her statement was also a question.
"Wel-l-l-l-l...I don't want to bore you with that kind of talk now." Kurz tried to sound affable, not desperate.
"Ah-h-h-h-h...I see...that's alright. She mentioned something about a tape she could lend me. She said that it would help me understand the man I would be fighting with." Greta didn't know what was on that tape; judging by the look on Kurz' face, it must be something worth seeing.
"Uh...ah...do you mean fighting with, or fighting beside?" That ought to be a good way to change the subject.
"We'll have to see." Kurz couldn't tell if she was serious or not. "But, speaking of fighting, Sgt. Major Mao also told me you were a talented promoter. She said you had set up a historic event for the crew of this Submarine." Greta had been uncertain why Melissa had mentioned that to her. Seeing Kurz' expression again, she added it to her list .
"Yes, that's Kurz Weber, man of many talents. But let's talk about you some, pretty lady!" Greta blushed at 'pretty lady,' but she wasn't done yet.
"But, there is more to your talents, is there not? Sgt. Major Mao told me you were an accomplished author! I am VERY impressed, as I love very much to read. She said that you had written a remarkable book especially for Sgt. Sagara, and suggested that I should attempt to get a signed copy for my own library. She also told me to tell you to rewrite the entries under 'G.'"
Greta looked truly puzzled. "What did she mean about 'G'? What type of book was it?"
If it hadn't been firmly attached, Kurz would have swallowed his tongue. "I...ah...I feel embarassed talking about my own works. I'm not one to play up my own successes!" There was a loud noise. Bobo had dropped a sledge onto his work top. His look was incredulous. He had been eavesdropping. Kurz glared at him and he smiled in return.
Unperturbed by the clang of metal, Greta had an extremely dubious look on her face. Another thing for the list. "Is Sgt. Sagara approachable? If I asked, do you think he might let me borrow his copy if I promise to return it?"
Memo to myself. Present to Melissa. Baseball bat to the back of her head. Don't have to wait until her birthday. "It takes Sousuke a while before he opens up to people. He's a really great soldier, but needs to work on his people skills. And, it was a personal book, one he would be embarrassed to share with others."
Another one for Greta's list.
"I am sorry to hear that, as the Sgt. Major mentioned another thing that I should ask him about. If he would be unwilling to talk to me, perhaps you would. I respect your desire to remain humble, but I was told that a good way to learn about you would be to ask about a list of compliments. One containing things that the women crew members had had said about you. I understood that Sgt. Sagara compiled that list...."
Kurz fought to maintain his composure. He must NOT show his opponent any weakness. "I don't want to seem selfish or rude, but we've had plenty of time to talk about me, in addition to what Melissa told you. I'm a big proponent of equality amongst the sexes. It's only fair that I get a chance to learn about you too."
He tried his biggest smile. "Besides, why put too much stock in other people's opinions? I think it's best to form your own opinion." Yes, that seemed reasonable. That would fit well with what he perceived to be Greta's psyche.
"True, there isn't too much time before my group will have to depart. I suppose I will have to ask you more about yourself another time, battle permitting."
Kurz wiped his brow, then cringed, realizing that he might have given away his sense of unease. Greta hadn't needed to see that to know that Kurz was feeling greatly relieved.
"Great! I knew you were a woman of great wisdom and fairness." Kurz wasn't holding anything back. He turned on another big smile.
Earlier, Greta would have taken that statement and smile as a sure sign that Kurz was nothing more than a flirt or a flatterer. She had a better understanding of him now. Melissa was right.
"We can get back to those questions some other day. If not, no doubt Melissa would be kind enough to correspond with me. She seems very forthcoming." Greta couldn't entirely keep a smile off her face.
"But...."
"I know, I know...back to me." Greta paused for a moment. Just how much did she want to share with this man? To what purpose? She was finding it easy to talk with him...but in the past, there had been no shortage of cads and jokers that she had found it easy to get close to.
But, if she was going to be his comrade in battle, she should make every effort she could. And, she HAD heard a lot about his personal life from Melissa.
"I suppose I should start with my grandmother. Her choices played a big role in eveything that came after. She was living in Denmark during World War II, and the German army had designs on that country as a means to secure communications to Norway during "Weserubung." The Scandinavian countries were a big source of iron ore, of great importance to the weapon industry."
"My grandfather---a German soldier in 308th Regiment of the XXI Corps---landed at Copenhagen aboard the ship "Hansestadt Danzig."
"Danzig! Oh yeh! Another kickass band!" Kurz jumped up in the air, pumping his fist. Greta glared at him silently for a minute.
"Hey, whatcha waitin' for babe, let's hear the story!" He crossed his arms and said "Hmpf. Women!" He took a few steps back to play it safe.
"My grandmother became what was called a 'tyskerpiger,' a Danish girl fraternizing with the German occupation soldiers. Most people during and post-occupation considered the tyskerpiger to be nothing more than stupid and ugly half-prostitutes. They met with considerable anger and contempt, with people calling for their removal from jobs and public places. The best treatment she got was a cold shoulder. She was continually at risk of malice and serious physical molestation."
Kurz listened attentively.
"My grandfather wanted nothing to do with her when she became pregnant with my father. If he had consumated formal relations with her, he would have been considered a risk, a bad soldier. My brothers later discovered that he had survived the war, and married a woman from the fatherland. My mother ran first to Odense, then Austria, and later settled in southern Germany."
Greta stopped, and wiped an eye. She always wondered how difficult it had been for her grandmother, raising a son by herself during post-war Germany.
"Are you OK?" Kurz asked. "You don't have to go on with this for my sake, if it's bothering you!" He didn't know why, but he felt a bit discomforted listening to this young woman's past.
"No. I'm alright. The effect this all had on my father shouldn't surprise anyone. He grew up without a male role model. His mother carried a badge of shame. His father---and the German military---were symbols of hate to him."
Kurz thought that he knew where Greta's story was going. He settled down considerably and asked Greta if she would like something to drink.
"No. But, thank you. Not long after he married my mother, my father moved to the village of Mittenwald---he was an avid skier." Greta paused a moment, and looked intently at Kurz. She changed the subject for a moment. "Kurz, do you ski?"
"What? Uh...no, I've never been."
"With a name like Kurz Weber, you cannot ski? Wenig glaubhaft." She shook her head. "You really should learn. Especially if combat ever takes you high into the mountains. It is a very good skill for a soldier to know."
She smiled, thinking about some early experiments that were going on. "Our Panzergehender battalion is even experimenting with snowplaning devices for the Arm Slaves, though I do not know how practical an idea that one is!"
"Whoa! Serious X-games stuff, babe! That might be worth looking into. At the very least, I'd buy the soundtrack!" Kurz was getting animated again.
Oberfeldwebel Heinrich continued her story. "Mittenwald was a wonderful place to grow up. The Wetterstein, Karwendel, Berechtesgarden, and Viererspitze were all nearby, and the whole family became avid mountaineers. That was all my father seemed to care about. Obviously, the happiness and well-being of his wife and children were of much lesser importance." Greta couldn't keep herself from tearing up again.
"Greta, I'm serious. You don't have to do this. You don't owe me anything." Kurz didn't want her to get depressed because of some personal point of honor that involved him, indirectly or otherwise.
"Are you saying you do not want to hear anything about me?!" Greta sounded angry now. Her eyes looked harsh, the way they had earlier.
"Not at all. I didn't ask Melissa to tell you the things she did, so you shouldn't feel you need to return the favor. Hey, I may joke about paying Melissa back, but I'm not entirely unhappy about what she did."
Kurz paused, examining his feelings for a brief while. "I don't think I could have brought myself to tell you the things that she did. It's not fair for me to put you in this situation."
"I see," Greta said, her expression unreadable. "I hadn't gotten the impression you would be this considerate to a stranger...especially one who did not react well to you at first."
"Well...you can't always judge a book by its cover, right?!" Kurz threw his hair back.
"True." Book? Greta was struck momentarily by an urge for mischief. "If you like, I will stop. We can go back to discussing that book of yours." She pushed her hair back and smiled.
"Uh...please, continue. Ah...forgive me for interupting."
"Are you certain....?"
"Yes! I mean, please."
"My father was not attentive to anyone's needs but his own. He was generous with his promises, but he never felt obliged to follow through on them. He laughed a lot, but did not seem to be a happy man. He and my mother ran an inn, and we did well when he saw fit to lend a hand."
"I resembled my grandmother to some degree...it was not to my benefit." She hung her head a moment before continuing.
"My mother was the only one who cared for me, but she was so busy, her time was limited. My brothers treated me at best as a house pet trained to fetch. At their worst, I was someone to practice their scorn, tricks, and torments on. They always laughed and joked around. I kept trying to win their approval, but nothing worked. They always promised me thatthings would get better...they never did."
"Did you have any friends?" Kurz aked quietly.
"Some. Most stayed away because my brothers were always looking for someone new to pester...or looking for girls to chase after. Those were their favorite activities outside of climbing and skiing. That, and talking with the veterans."
"Veterans?"
"The Germans had stationed mountain troops in Mittenwald during the war. A group of veterans had moved back to the village and made it their home. They were only too glad to break out the beer and tell old tales. Half mythical stories of battle, glory, excitement. My brothers were all hooked at an early age. Tagging along, I listened too, trying to show my brothers I was just like them. The veterans laughed at me, thinking I was nothing more than a cute little girl. They never took my questions about the war seriously."
Greta shook her head ever so slighly, a look of disappointment on her face.
"One by one---as they became old enough---my brothers ran off to join the military. You can imagine what my father felt about that. It was hard on my mother too, as her health was failing and my father helped less and less. The family could have used strong able bodies there, but my brothers were all too eager to move far away from home."
Greta's face hardened.
"My place was certain, or so my father said. I could look forward to a long life at the inn, keeping his dream and hard work alive. It seems, however, that his dreams soon changed. Not too long after my last brother left, my father left too. He never said where. I haven't heard from him since." It didn't seem as if Greta held any remaining affection for her father.
"Did you have to give up the inn?"
"Yes, we did. My mother stayed on as a housekeeper and cook for the new owners. Although it broke my heart to do so, I could no longer bring myself to work there. There was a military base for Gebirgsjager Battalion 233 at Mittenwald and I took a job as a transcriptionist there."
"It was an adequate job. The soldiers let me hang around after work, and I learned how to shoot. I became exceptional, better than most of them. Many of them soured after that, telling me the range was not for civilian use."
Bobo walked up unannounced. "Beggin' you pardon, Mam. I won't bother you for too long. I just thought you might know somethin' that'd help us all round here."
Greta was taken aback by the Chief Mechanic's appearence, but maintained her composure. "How my I be of assistance?"
"The music's down some. That there beanpole of a soldier ain't jumpin' about flappin' his wings. And I haven't heard him yellin' too much!!!" His face looked open, honest. "PLEASE...tell me how you did it!"
Greta smiled. Her mood lifted somewhat. "I have not done anything special. I am merely talking with him. My personal story is somewhat sad, and he is being kind and considerate."
Bobo's face went blank, then his cheeks became red and he began guffawing, holding his ample midsection. "Har har har har! You're a funny one, miss Master Sergeant! Har har har. It's OK! I'll let you keep your secret." He was still laughing whe he walked away.
Greta looked a question at Kurz, who blushed and shrugged his shoulders.
"Those soldiers who remained friendly with me soon learned that I could climb, march, and ski as well as any of them, and better than quite a few. When I was old enough, I enlisted, and was stationed there."
"I'm not sure why I joined. Maybe because I enjoyed what I had been doing. Maybe because of the tales the veterans had told, and some personal need to cleanse my country's honor. Maybe just to show my brothers what I COULD do. Maybe just because my father would have HATED it!" Greta's anger was making a guest appearence.
"So, you got to officially kick some ass...I mean, show them what you could do?"
Greta's face soured again, but not because of Kurz' language. "No. Not right away. At first, national policies limited my duties to serving as a medical assistant and playing in the unit marching band!" Greta's look could have vaporized steel.
"Hey...did you get to play any Rammstein or Danzig?" A big smile. Almost a big mistake. Greta's look silenced Kurz quicker than Melissa could.
"A couple of years ago, the policies changed, and I was allowed to join the sniper team. I thought I had finally found my place, but old habits die hard. Even government officials seemed to support discrimination. I remember an article quoting one of the Free Democrats as saying "I hope Defense Minister Scharping won't think about putting women in pink tanks." That was plastered all over the Reuters news agency! And it was hung up on the wall at my camp"
"That's just plain stupid!" Kurz said, rewarded by a quick softening of Greta's face. "I bet Melissa could lick the whole damn battalion by herself! If not, she sure as hell could with me and Sousuke backing her up!"
Kurz hadn't meant to get that worked up. "Uh...sorry."
Greta looked quietly at Kurz for a moment. "The sniper unit was not any different than any other part of the army. When they didn't think I could hear them, my team mates made all sorts of comments about me, and what role I was truly suited for." She blushed, then grew angry again. Kurz didn't need to ask her what she meant.
"For a while, I thought about resigning, but I knew that wouldn't change anything. The only way to make things better would be to perservere, set an example. Besides, the pay was good." She began to tear up again."
"My...my mother had become very ill, and couldn't work any more. Most of my pay went towards her medical bills." Greta felt a compulsion to tell Kurz what she did next. "S-she's in the hospital now. I should be by her side...but this is too important."
Kurz nodded his head. He could guess one of the things Melissa may have told Greta. "Yes," Kurz started. "But this is for her too. I bet she must be so very proud of her daughter. Were your brothers selected to play a part in the battle?"
"No." Greta shook her head. "They heard about my role, and each of them managed to let me know just how disgusted they were. They said it must be favortism, because I'm a woman. They couldn't call our mother when she was ill, or write to me when I needed support. But they were certain to find me when they learned my unit was going in, and I was part of the unit."
"Well then," Kurz said, highly animated again. "Your mother must be DOUBLY proud of you!"
Greta wiped the tears out of her eyes and looked at Kurz, feeling a strong sense of gratitude.
"I jumped a bit too far ahead, I guess. When the army was putting together a new Panzergehender unit, they needed soldiers with exceptional markmanship skills. The top scoring soldiers from each unit were invited to audition---the thinking was that anyone skilled with a gun in hand could become a talented marksman in an Arm Slave."
"Were they aware you were a woman before they made the offer?" Kurz had a good idea what her answer would be.
"No. Some officials tried to invalidate my application, noting some unheard rules and regulations. Had I been rejected outright, I would have returned to a less pleasant situation than the one I had left. The mountain troops were part of the HVK, the Hauptverteidigungskrafte...the general defense forces. The Panzergehender unit was earmarked for the KRK, the Krisenreaktionskrafte...the crisis reaction forces. The KRK routinely received all of the newer equipment---and better benefits---and that did not sit too well with the general soldier."
"But they let you try out. They let you join."
"Yes. But it was a near thing. There were concerns in some qarters about discrimination, and powerful people who did not want to be embarrassed politically made certain that anyone who wanted to try out for the role was allowed to do so. However, even they were not concerned about the individual. There were still hurdles to overcome."
"Double standards?"
"That's correct. Anyone was allowed to try. Each person's chance was supposed to be equal...they said it would be determined by performance alone. As it tured out, some people were more equal than others. Or I should say, a small minority was less equal."
"They stuck you with inferior equipment or gave you a tougher course to run?"
"Yes. The AS for the test was the new Panther 1A3 XT. Most people used that model. I was assigned a Panther 1A1 ST...with only a few days to learn its use, thanks to all of the political obstacles I had to overcome first."
"The predominant weapon used was a new computer and radar assisted gun. I had the older simpler model. When I made a mistake, I heard criticism and threat of what would happen if I did not pick up my performance. When others missed, they were given encouragment."
"Bastards. We don't have to deal with that nonsense at Mithril." Kurz was pissed. He didn't care much for injustice and foul play.
"Whoever structured things against me only succeeded in defeating himself and aiding me. The officials judging the results were not stuffed shirts...they were soldiers whose lives and whose men's lives would rest in the hands of the troops chosen to serve with them. My results stood out, especially when my handicaps came to light. The rest is history."
"Well, sooner or later excellence has to speak for itself. That's why, model or not, they couldn't help but see the magificense of Kurz Weber. Oh yeh!"
Kurz was quite able to convince himself. Greta was still a bit skeptical. "Has the treatment improved any?" Kurz asked.
"Not entirely. I'm small. I'm a woman. I had no previous mech experience. But, with my marksmanship, a lot of things were overlooked. As soon as I proved I belonged, I started to be accepted. As soon as I showed how much I excelled, I rapidly climbed in rank and responsibility. The military added sensitivity training to the basic instruction---it was supposed to caution against sexual harrassment and sexual paternalism. But, I suppose there will always be men who resent women in uniform because we shatter the way they see themselves as male fighters. Just like there are some civilian men who refuse to see women in uniform being just as feminine as other women."
"Well, that's THEIR problem, babe! I don't have a problem with women in uniform. Especially snug fitting uniforms! Oh yeh! It's hard to miss that they're women then!"
Greta looked somewhat annoyed. Kurz saw that look.
"Oh...uh...I wasn't talking about you, Greta!"
Instead of looking relieved, she looked even more irritated.
"I see. So you might think that other women soldiers might look good in these uniforms of yours, but not me?! Is that what you are saying?"
Uh oh! In der Klemme sitzen! Caught between a rock and a hard place. Should he apologize? Just laugh it off? Change the subject?
"Not at all. I just didn't want to make light of who you are or what you have accomplished." That was a good start. But, he was Kurz Weber, so he had to add "And naturally, I won't be talking about how you would look in the perfect uniform until AFTER you leave!"
He smiled, challenging her to take offense at his telling the truth.
Greta was faced with an instantaneous decision too. Laugh? That might encourage him. Scold him? That might kill the mood again. Ignore it?
She smiled. "That's quite alright, sergeant. I will make certain that I get ahold of that list of comments about you, so I too will have something to discuss with people after I leave." Yes, that ought to do quite nicely.
"Oh, that's fine, babe. I'll...personally...make certain to write up that list before you go. No need to inconvenience Sgt. Sagara."
They both smiled. It was clear there would be no clear victor here. Kurz was pleased to see that there was a softer side to Greta. She, in turn, was glad to see that Kurz was true to himself---and likely his word---no matter how flamboyant that self might be.
"Well, all that talking must have been hard work! Can you use that drink now?" At the very least, Kurz was looking for an excuse to grab himself something.
"Yes, I think that is a wonderful idea. Whatever you can find would be nice. I could certainly use a cocktail"
When Kurz returned, he did not have a pair of cocktails. He had a full cart of drinks and a bucket of ice. Greta just shook her head and grinned.
The two had a few minutes of less serious conversation before a voice called to Greta.
"Oberfeldwebel Heinrich?" A German sergeant carrying a travel bag looked to get her attention.
"Ja, Unteroffizier Schmidt?"
"Die Abflugzeit ist hier."
"Ich verstehe. Ich muss gleich da sein." Greta turned to Kurz and said apologetically "I'm sorry you went to the trouble to get all these drinks. It looks like I will have to depart shortly."
"Oh, that's no problem. I'll find a good home for them all! I just wish we had more time to talk. Perhaps I will bring another cart by after the battle."
"Versprechen? Promise?"
"Promise!"
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