XXXIII – PEOPLE NEED LIES, NOT TRUTH

Onboard US-Airship THORA A. EDDISON, hovering over Warsaw aerodrome, August 28th 1939, 16.18 hours

“Well, the aerodrome looks big enough. Look, the city over there. Didnt appear so backward as you fear, Valery.”
“Wait till we leave Warsaw and reach the countryside, Amy.”
“I still think we should have aborted the journey in London. Beyonce was very angry at the phone. I wasnt aware that you didnt tell her our destination before, Amy.”
“Cute Maria, did you really believe she would have given her okay to our leave if knowing our target?”
Valery eyed the two others with concern.
“You shouldnt have accompanied me. War can break out every day now, and then we are sitting in a foreign country, amidst a shooting war.”
Amy snorted and shook her head.
“Dont worry about us, Val. You should worry about your kin. In a war, it will be very difficult for your aunt and her family to leave Poland. The airships wont be coming here anymore, instead the german Stukas.”
Her face darkened suddenly. Unaware to herself, she stroke the scar on her forehead. Maria and Amy changed a look. Both knew the story of the scar, reminder to Amy of her first contact with the Superfrauen back in Spain.
“Dear ladies, our ship will now anchor at Warsaw aerodrome, please stop smoking and take a seat.”
“There we go.”
Amy emerged from her dark thoughts and grinned again.
“Well, girls, ready for adventure? Reminds me of a book or something. Three Americans in Europe.”
The airships passenger area was not very populated, to say the least. No one with her senses intact was keen on visiting Poland these days – the two million Kraut soldiers west of the border not counting.
After landing, the three American gals collected their luggage – each had only a big rucksack, and took a bus to the city.
Emerging from the main bus station in the center of the old city, the three got more than one look from polish ladies. Amy in her cowgirl boots, jeans and leather blouse was clearly an American out of a Hollywood western movie, while both Valery Komorski and Maria Cipoletti were more dressed for London or Parisian avenues than the more oldfashioned surroundings here. Both wore rather short silken clothes and overkneeboots in black and white respectively. While older polish women looked at the ladies themselves with visible interest, younger gals starred longingly at their garnments and boots.
Warsaw was an European capital in its own right, but outfits seen in New York, London or Paris frequently were reserved here for the upper class or special occasions.
Amy noted all the looks and grinned widely.
“Gals, I guess you two are seriously overdressed. Perhaps you might consider changing to Jeans and shorter boots instead.”
Maria nodded, but Valery shook her head.
“Hell, why on earth should we? I am an American, and proudly show my customs.”
Amy started with:
“When in Rome, do like the Romans...”, but let the sentence trail off.
The Cipoletti lit a cigarette and eyed her surroundings.
“I can hardly see anything relating to a coming war.”
“Probably the Poles dont want to even acknowledge the possibility. You cant see me cause I cant see you.”
While speaking, Amy fingered a chocolate bar out of her rucksack.
Valery approached a young gal near her and asked in polish for the way to a hotel.
The polish girl was clearly very astonished this elegant lady spoke polish, albeit with wrong grammar and a terrible accent. She started a description in force, speaking so fast Valery didnt understand more than half of it.
Amy grinned and vaporized her chocolate. Maria had spotted some sort of advertisement on a wall.
“Look, Amy, whats that? A call to arms on a poster? First sign of trouble.”
“I am afraid thats their kind of mobilization order.”
“They post public advertisements? Why not sending mails to all reservists?”
“The postal services in Poland might not be as efficient as in the States, or – Germany.”
“I see.”
Valery had ended her conversation with the young girl and told them with more confidence than she really felt:
“Its that way, girls. Lets check in, the sooner we can look for a train east.”
“Shouldnt we go to the embassy first? Looking after the papers for your family?”
“First things first. I am in need of a shower.”
“As you mention it, a good piece of polish beef would be fine too.”
Maria laughed at both of them.
“So much for the pampered Americans. But a shower and dinner sounds good, I grant you that.”
“Then its settled.”
Amy headed in the direction Valery had indicated. The polish American and Maria followed, Valery catching the conversation of two little girls following them.
“She is a cowgirl to be sure.”
“No, wheres her hat? A cowgirl always has a big hat.”
“I have it. Shes a bodyguard, accompanying the two curtisans and defending them against german spies.”
“Maybe they are all three german spies.”
“Never. Germans are blonde, these three are all darkhaired.”
Valery grinned. If it was that easy...


SET-facility T-11, Breslau, Silesia, Eastern Germany, August 29th 1939, 8.35 hours

“Good morning, ladies. My name is Marlies Breitenreiter and I am chief of the masking team of SET. We have a busy day ahead. In the evening, not even your mothers or lovers would recognize you on the street.”
Beate Brunner and Anke Stein changed a glance. Anke grinned like a pupil planning mischief in school. For her it was all a great adventure. Beate kept her second thoughts to herself and forced a reassuring smile on her lips. The mission ahead was not exactly what she had in mind when dreaming about heroic deeds for the Reich.
Several makeup specialists hustled the twelve SET to another room. The Breitenreiter and Skorzeny remained behind.
“Uhh, you are full colonel now, sweetheart.”
“I find your lack of discipline as amusing as ever, Marlies.”
“Thank you, OBERST Skorzeny. I take it you want your mask done by myself as usual.”
“You are the best, Marlies.”
“I wish you would say that in the sheets. But naturally I am only a little make-up gal paling in comparison with the jap empress and the like.”
“Rather disturbing that in SET there are no real secrets. Is there a list in the cafeteria about my conquests?”
“Who knows? Well, what do you want? Light skin, black hair, or dark skin, light brown curls?”
“I leave that to your imagination. Be creative about it. I havent got to tell you it must be perfect.”
“Ophelia, I dont know how to tie a knot or to knock someone out, but trust me, it will be perfect.”
“Fine. What about the evening? French wine, soft music, the usual activities?”
“Sounds very promising. Ive decided I am not jelaous about this yellow empress. After all, she didnt get more of you than I will get – and have gotten often enough.”
“There will be plenty more opportunities in the near future.”
“I have it. We will go with chinlength this time. I have the perfect wig for that. A dark brown, and...”


Forest south of Allenstein, East Prussia, Germany, August 31st 1939, 6.24 hours

“The vehicles are all ready. Water, food, ammunition, the Iron Ration, most important, fuel, everything is correct. The maidens are confident and eager. Weather forecast says it will stay nicy and clear.”
“Very good, Feldwebel. Now we only need the order. Anyway, I want to do an eye recon of the border myself again. You will accompany me.”
“Jawoll, Frau Leutnant!”
Leutnant Frauke Seeler offered her NCO her cigarette pack. Both lit up, and the young blonde german officer blew smoke into the clear forest air.
“I want our platoon to be the best in the PzAufklaerungsabteilung ( Armoued Recon battalion). We will be the first to fight, going deep into enemy territory. This is the opportunity we all waited for. I only hope there will be no negotiative settlement in the last moment. The Poles need a lesson.”
And you are in desperate need of an Iron Cross, the Feldwebel thought, but nodded to her officers words.
Young Frauke Seeler was a party membress, among the best on the Kriegsschule (war academy), and definitly hungry for fame and glory. The Feldwebel eyed their surroundings. Well camouflaged, the four armoured cars of the platoon stood under the old trees, their crews sitting in front and attending to their personal weapons and gear.
Feldwebel Frings thought of two million other german maidens like them all along the border to Poland, waiting for FALL WEISS to start.


Radio station, Gleiwitz, Eastern Germany, August 31st 1939, 20.57 hours

Sabine Assauer killed her Juno Filter in the ashtray, took a last sip of tea and cleared her throat. Two minutes left.
The german lady was about to deliver another news report to the German minority in Poland, again urging them to stay calm until the Wehrmacht would rescue them. It was all a lie, intended mainly for the Poles and the Western Allies, as large parts of the german minority were deeply involved in sabotage and espionage on behalf of the Reich. But such things were necessary, werent they?
The radio maiden strongly believed in the movement and the Fuehra, and the sooner Poland was conquered, the better. She, at her place, would play her small role, contributing with her talents to the great german mission.
The technical assistant gave Sabine the usual sign, one minute left.
Suddenly she heard shouts outside, a door slammed. What was that? Before she could inquire from the assistant, the door burst open and gals in polish uniform stormed inside. Sabine looked into the muzzles of the guns, more puzzled than afraid.
A longlegged gal wearing captains insignia pointed a handgun at her face and growled in bad german:
“You are prisoner of the polish army. Dont move. This facility is now under our control.”
“How dare you... you polish scum...”
The polish woman slapped Sabine across the face. Furious, the German wiped blood from her lips. The officer snapped in polish, which Sabine understood quite well:
“Secure this slut.”
Two Poles rushed forward, quickly overpowering the struggling Assauer, binding her limbs and body with rope.
“You will pay for that. Your whole country will pay, you worthless...”
“Shut up, arrogant bitch. Gag her thoroughly.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Some minutes later, Sabine struggled in a corner alongside with other membresses of the station, her eyes over her gag fixed on the brownhaired polish captain, who now started to read a declaration in polish as well as german, proudly defying the german might, insulting german honour...
Sabine was sure the Fuehra wouldnt tolerate this outrageous assault on german soil. The Poles would pay dearly for this...


Radio Station, Gleiwitz, Eastern Germany, August 31st 1939, 21.46 hours

Beate Brunner, disguised in her polish uniform, a brunette wig and adorned with false, horselike yellow teeth, eyed the prisoners a last time. The members of the radio station, eleven ladies in all, were gathered in one room along the walls, thoroughly roped and tightly gagged. Hatred and rage emanated from their blazing eyes over the shiny white cloth gags.
Anke Stein hoovered over one of the trussed women, tugging at the knot of her ropes. She grinned up at Beate, shooting in polish:
“That should hold the arrogant sluts! Lets be on our way!”
Beate just nodded, and both “polish soldiers” retreated to the entrance, where Oberst Skorzeny, disguised as a polish captain of borderguards, gathered her unit.
“The prisoners are secure, Lady Captain!”, Beate said saluting. What a charade! Beate hated every minute of it. This was no glorious fight, no honor involved. The German SET felt acid in her throat, the burning acid of – yes, shame.
Skorzeny gave Brunner a close look, penetrating her impassive mask with ease. The Oberst put a wry smile on her face.
“Off we go, ladies. Hurry, the Krauts will be here in minutes.”
The “polish” unit left the station, reached a nearby forest and vanished from the face of the earth.
A Wehrmacht platoon of infantry, police, the firebrigade of Gleiwitz and even Gestapo agents swarmed the station shortly thereafter, all women fuming with rage as they found the humiliated sisters of the Reich inside. One phrase was heard over and over, as the bonds of the victims were loosened and search parties moved out: The Poles would pay for that!


Central Train Station, Gleiwitz, Eastern Germany, August 31st 1939, 23.07 hours

The grim policewomen eyed the few volksgenossas waiting at the station suspiciously, fingering their guns. But these were brave german sisters, simple travellers, no polish scum.
One of the police gals lost her rage inside long enough to notice the shapely long legs in the shiny red overkneeboots of a blonde lady standing to the right, conversing with another blonde. Both blondes wore short, corsetted dresses, high, fetish boots and gloves and heavy red and black makeup. They obviously waited for the night train to Breslau, main city of Upper Silesia, judging by their outfit to visit the pleasure temple there.
The police girl watched on, as the beautiful longlegged blonde offered the other a cigarette. The gals officer called out, and the policegirl turned her head and forgot about the blonde fetish ladies.
Skorzeny lit Beate Brunners cigarette, then her own. Both blondes inhaled deeply.
“I wanted to talk to you, Fraulein Brunner. You dont seem to see the wisdom of our operation. Any problems with it?”
The casual tone kept Beate on her toes, but...
“Uh, Frau Ober... ah, Frau Skorzeny, I… it seems wrong, this mission. We betrayed our own country, we lie to the world.”
Skorzeny smiled openly.
“Nonsense, sweetie. This is business, not kindergarden. We are fighting for the Reichs destiny, and in war, deception is a first class weapon. First of all, we need to mobilize our people, on a psyhological level, you see. And the people as well, they dont want to hear the naked truth, they must be deceipt too.”
“Our own sisters? But...”
“Sure. Especially our own sisters. People want to hear lies, they lust for lies... they are so much easier to believe, you see? For us warriors – we must see the truth. We must be strong for the rest of us. Be strong, Beate. For the Reich.”
These blue eyes, so intense. Beate knew she would never be as strong as the woman behind these blue eyes, but she could try, couldnt she?

A train, enroute to Lwow via Rekowicze, Poland, September 1st, 1939, 7.12 hours

Maria Cipoletti stirred in her sleep. In her dream, she was helpless again, the dammed Skorzeny looking down on her trussed, naked form with these iceblue eyes and... she awoke. The train had stopped at a small station – again. There were shouts outside, some kind of alarm. Resting on three sheets under a short blanket, Maria put her feet on the cabinfloor and looked out.
Opposite of her makeshift bench, Amy stood at the window and looked out, holding the book she had brought with her for the journey, Jane Londons “Wolvesblood”. Beside her, Valery had fallen into sleep too, still wearing the white, stylish boots, still foolishly insisting on an american NewYorkCity appearance. Maria had days ago changed her footwear to tennis shoes.
So far, the journey had been a nightmare, with one problem and obstacle after another. There had been nearly no trains going east, and the ones available were the oldest and slowest ones, as the mainstay of polish trains shuttled all reservists to the german border in the west, north and south. Then there had been problems at the embassy, the US gals there horrified by the sight of three american tourists totally void of any common sense.
But finally, the trio had overcome all difficulties, and here they were now, on a small train east, probably now only 20 miles out of Rekowicze, their destination, a tiny town bordering polish Ukraine. How they and Valerys kin would get out of  Poland after they reached the city, was another matter entirely. But one thing at a time.
Maria fingered for a Marlboro, her usual “breakfast”, and stood up.
“Whats going on?”
“Dont know,” Amy grunted, “they speak all polish, remember?”
“This looks like panic to me.”
Amy nodded and reached behind her, padding sleeping Valery on the shoulder without looking. The american-polish gal jumped like hit by a bullet.
“What? Are we...oh! Whats going on?”
Amy grinned.
“What a cool Delta you are. Well, theres some uproar outside.”
“Lets see. Open the window, would you, Amy?”
“Its jammed, damm, ah, there you are.”
“Shit! Its war. The Germans are coming. Their bombers have attacked Warsaw.”
“Wonderful.”
Amy rubbed her scar and looked out again. Valery and Maria changed a look.
A bewildered polish gal in a blue uniform with golden markings rushed along the train, shouting:
“The train stops here! Please leave the train!”
Valery blurted:
“And now?”
Amy straigthened herself up and put a finger on Valerys cute nose.
“We are Deltas, no? Its only about 20 miles to our target. The weather is most pleasant, so... lets march.”
Maria said nothing, her eyes scanned Valerys highheeled boots thoughtfully...

A small shop, town of Wai-Chong, Central China, September 1st 1939, 9.15 hours

Bill Eaton tried to remain calm, and keep the Nasi-Goreng of yesterdays dinner in. Jess Sumers turned to him, finally averting her eyes from the sight upsetting Bills stomach.
The interior of the shop was bathed in blood in the most literal sense. Four bodies were here. The old female shopowner, a female attendant, and the two Flying Tigresses, Priscilla Deavers and Flora Hillerwoman. They had been killed – no – dismembered with a very sharp object.
The chinese troops in town had alerted Jess Sumers at the nearby airfield to the crime scene, the two pilots already missing 14 hours. The Kuomintang captain in charge looked grim, saying a single word:
“Ninja.”
Jess Sumers nodded and growled to Bill:
“You know what this means?”
“She has found us.”
“Yeah, and the bitch wont rest until every single one of us is dead.”
Bill gulped.
“We, we must find her first, we...”
“Any idea?”
“Could we move the base again? It took her over half a year to follow us...”
“We cant run away forever, Bill. Its only a single woman...”
... and that was more than enough, Bill knew.