There is nothing so sad and barren as an empty station platform with no sign of life not even a bird looking for food to feed its young.
Horst sat on top of his pack holding his unloaded rifle in his hands. He hated that he had to carry the thing through the staring crowds of civilians looking at his hands as if to find them stained with blood of the enemies of the fatherland. He wished he was an officer if for no other reason than to be armed with a hand pistol that he could carry neatly in a holster on his leather belt like some important person from the Capitol city.
He saw the shadowy bicycles grinding their way from the rural area into the near-by city on the other side of the wide river. Horst knew they all had bells to warn people in their path but there were no pedestrians and he never once heard a bell sound out in the morning mist. His memory flinched at the thought of riding down the narrow path to school each morning following behind Bettina Metzler staying close enough to see her buttocks rising and falling with every push of the pedals. She knew he had a crush on her and she enjoyed standing on the pedals every now and then so he could see the womanly shape of her behind under her school uniform.
His mother had written him in a letter that young Bettina had been hospitalized when her legs were crushed by a roof when her building collapsed in an air raid. It seemed horribly unfair to him that a girl with legs as beautiful as young Bettina's had to suffer such an indignity. It never bothered him to see the twisted bodies of young men cut down in their prime but the thought of a beautiful young girl marred for life or a child caught up in the chaos of war was overwhelmingly sad and depressing.
Ever since the debacle at Stalingrad, he knew deep down inside that the fatherland would lose this war just like they had lost the one his father waged so many years ago. It was all well and good to blame it all on the Jews but they were not the culprits in his mind. Too many of his intellectual friends were Jews and he remembered his first girlfriend was a half Jewish girl whose father was so rich he had houses in several different cities.
Horst wore the SS insignia on his collar but it just a technicality because his unit was considered one of the Fuhrer's favorites and he had absolutely no choice in the matter.
A young girl wandered up on the platform probably just looking for signs of the approaching train since there was nothing better to do. She reminded him of Katrina, Bettina's younger sister because she still had some "baby fat" on her arms and legs. In a time of rationing that was an accomplishment in itself. He wondered where she was able to get the extra calories when most people were getting leaner every day. He surmised she was an only child and would naturally receive everyone's best cuts on a daily basis. It was strange to see pleasantly plump young girl in such circumstances and when she drew closer he saw she was likely to be older than he originally thought.
"Hello, Mister Soldier, my name is Ada. I am sixteen today and my papa is the station master. The train going west is late this morning. His tape machine told him it won't be here until three-quarters of ten."
Horst was amused at the small girl's directness. Actually, she was as old as his Bettina the last time he saw her just before leaving for the eastern front. He was returning to the godforsaken place after a two week leave back home. He had not visited Bettina because he felt she was far too self-conscious of her lack of mobility and shrunken legs. He had seen her from a distance and saw she was well tended and appeared stable and good-natured as always. He did not think it a good idea for her to resume contact with him because he was unlikely to return from Russia a second time.
He had spent each night with a different female so there would be no long goodbyes or tender traps to entangle his thoughts while he was trying to survive in dreadful circumstances. This innocent child Ada was not on his radar as a potential bed-mate because his train was leaving in less than two hours and her age was a bit tender for his liking. Apparently, she didn't seem to see any barrier to her flirting because she sat down next to him and showed him a broad swath of white thigh when she crossed her legs on the bench above his head.
"Well, Ada, I am Horst and I am on my way back to the Russian front. Shouldn't you be in school?"
The girl laughed and curled her long blonde hair around her finger coyly letting her tongue reach out tentatively and lick the tip.
"No more school for me I am afraid. The school is destroyed by bombs and I have to work at the factory to help the other women make battle dressings for the troops. You should know I am not a virgin and that I have mastered the mystery of giving cocks a nice bath with my tongue."
In all honesty, Horst was a bit shocked at her blunt words because he was harboring hidden feelings of wanting to see if the girl's baby fat was in those parts of her body modestly covered by the cheap wartime material and white cotton undies. He knew it was entirely legal to have relations with a female over the age of sixteen if she were willing under the new rules of the Third Reich but it still seemed inappropriate to probe one so young with his sometimes insubordinate cock.
"Your father would not like you to talk to strange soldiers on his platform, dear; you should not use those words with men you have just met."
Ada laughed and flicked her short dress at him like he was a policeman to be teased. She was certainly a handful and he had to admire her determination to make him her next conquest.
.... There is more of this story ...