Ruins of War by John A. Connell Read Free Book Online

emanated from aroom on the ground floor. Behind the lace curtain, silhouettes of people communed around a dining table. Like coming home to family . . . not his, someone else’s.
    Mason heaved his duffel bag onto his shoulder and walked up the stone steps to the front door. Before he could insert the key into the lock, someone opened the door. A round-faced captain with red cheeks and equally red hair stepped aside to let him in.
    “You must be the new guy,” the red-cheeked captain said. “Come in out of the damp cold and into the dry cold.”
    Mason stepped in and they shook hands.
    “Mike Shaw.”
    Mason introduced himself then followed Shaw down a short hallway. The place reeked of cigarette smoke and spilled beer. Shaw stopped at the entrance to the dining room, where three other officers sat around the table playing poker. Shaw introduced them, but Mason paid only enough attention to learn that they were all quartermaster officers.
    “Care to join us?” Shaw said. “We got beer and whiskey to keep us warm. There’s a heating-oil furnace, but the oil’s in short supply. Hopefully we’ll have some by the end of the week.”
    “Thanks, but I’m going to hit the sack.”
    Shaw shouted toward the back of the house, “Hey, Johann.” He turned back to Mason. “We got servants. An old couple and their fourteen-year-old granddaughter.” Shaw said the last part with a lascivious glint in his eyes. “A piece of jailbait. The only thing keeping me out of her panties is a couple of years.” He laughed, his red cheeks jiggling. The others chuckled, but Mason gave him a cold stare.
    Shaw noticed Mason’s expression and stopped laughing. He cleared his throat. “They’re okay people. Used to be the owners of this house until we moved in. I’m sure they were loyal little krauts, but no official Nazi Party affiliation.”
    From behind, Mason heard a raspy voice say,
“Guten Abend.”
He turned to see Johann standing in the hallway. He looked to be in his seventies with a thin, haggard face. Fine wisps of his silver hair weretousled from having to rise from sleep in answer to Shaw’s summons. He wore what had been an expensive tailored suit coat that was now fraying at the edges.
    Shaw made the introductions. Only Johann’s glassy eyes moved in response; he’d probably overheard Shaw’s comments. Mason joined Johann without another word to Shaw. Johann raised the candlestick he was holding and moved toward the stairs. At the base of the stairs, Johann offered to take Mason’s duffel bag.
    “Nein, danke. Ich kann es tragen,”
Mason said, indicating that he could carry it himself.
    Johann’s eyes widened in happy surprise. In German, he said, “You speak German. Good. I am too old to learn English.” He mounted the stairs with surprising agility. Mason followed.
    “Are you, your wife, and granddaughter staying in the house, too, Johann?”
    The old man stopped and turned to Mason. “Herr Steiger, please. I will call you Herr Collins, and you call me Herr Steiger. I can tell you are a man of respect, and I request only that one courtesy from one civilized man to another.”
    Mason nodded for Steiger to continue. They climbed the remaining stairs and moved down a wide hallway. From what Mason could see by the flickering candlelight, the hallway was decorated with fine antiques and wallpaper depicting a bucolic eighteenth-century hunting scene.
    “You have some very nice things, Herr Steiger.”
    “We receive a small stipend for housing soldiers from your army, so fortunately we have not been obliged to sell much for food. At least, not yet.” He gave Mason a melancholy smile. “To answer your question, sir, we live in the kitchen and cellar. A pitiful arrangement, but we know many families forced out of their homes to accommodate you soldiers, and they now live in squalor. We are grateful. Especially for my granddaughter. Only God almighty knows what would have happened to her if we’d been forced to