The Surplus Women

Please enjoy! Feel free to send me any comments or questions. This is just the first chapter in a potentially longer piece.

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April 5th, 1945

Kristiane Becker walked away from the noisy marketplace, with her canvas bag filled to the brim with groceries. It was a beautiful spring morning, and the sun shone through the holes and broken windows of Frankfurt am Main's jagged ruins. The wind tossed her blond hair around gently, as her lips curled into a cautious smile. The availability of food was one of the many benefits that arrived with the columns of American tanks and trucks. The relentless bombing had ceased, people were finally getting the medical attention that they deserved, and the shadow of the Gestapo had finally been torn away. Kristiane finally felt free from her dread, and started to notice the nicest new benefit of all, The American soldiers.

For years the only men who weren't off at the front were old men, and young boys. Now all of these undraftables had been sent eastward to halt the advance of the Soviet Juggernaut. She didn't consider the bureaucrats and Nazis who ran things to be men at all. They who were endlessly concerned with their rules and regulations, and hid their cowardice behind thick glasses and party slogans. These were the ones who had started this war. The war that had cost Germany everything, the war that had ruined most of Europe, the war that had destroyed her life.

Seeing the trucks full of broad-shouldered young men had awoken feelings that had lain dormant in her for so long. The kind of feelings that hunger dulls and which cannot exist deep in a dank bomb shelter while endlessly waiting for the all-clear. The only emotions she felt then were fear and despair, but now the Americans with their boyish smiles and rugged uniforms had brought her back from the dead. She had missed the way it felt to have eyes gaze upon her with manly desire, the sound of their deep voices, and the feel of strong hands and arms guiding her across the dance floor. But above all she missed her husband Walther.

In her mind Kristiane easily re-built the shattered buildings and covered them with bright paint, and as they grew so did the memories of her husband who had once inhabited these streets. His beautiful blue-eyes and his sunny blond smile, leading her by the hand, pulling her through the bustling crowd to Hochstrat, to listen to the orchestra play under the mighty Swastika. Now instead of a Swastika there was an ugly hole torn from the wall, and an unsorted pile of rubble at the base of the regal old opera. No bands had played there in ages, not since 1941 when the country was still lined with fat. Now the musicians are all gone, drafted and dead.

The dreary memory of Walther's sweet pipe smell pulled her past the opera, and onward to the park. What had once been a tree-lined path was now broken with the massive craters of British bombs. The nights were terrible, and the British bombed with the fierce anger of revenge. After grueling days the bombs made sleep impossible, only to face another day filled with work and sorrow. She had worked as a typist for the Wehrmacht during the war, typing the many notices to inform loved ones of the death of a son, a father or a brother. She would often tarry on her way home from work and sit alone in the park at dusk, glad that Walther's name didn't appear in her pile. As she walked into the entrance of the gated park, she wondered whether she would ever see him again.

She tried to convince herself once again that Walther wasn't dead. Back when the war began, he would send her letters every time that he could. He sent her pictures of Brussels, and of men smiling in a warm bunker. He wrote her long letters praising the military conquests of the Fuhrer, and describing his life. That all changed after his unit was transferred to Russia. He was promoted to Captain, and was placed on the front lines of Operation Barbarossa. The letters quit coming as often, and when they did the content was superficial and disturbing. His praise of the Fuhrer was louder than his feelings for her, and he wrote frequently of the viciousness of the Russian soldiers. Gradually his letters became shorter and shorter as the content grew more repetitive. And then they stopped coming entirely.

Her initial inquiries met with an unexpected answer. He was alive and well and commanding a company of the 324th infantry in Czechoslovakia. The letters that she sent were met with no reply, and she was left entirely in the dark.

Then tragedy split her life in two. Her parent's home on the Altstadt took a direct hit during a bomb raid. Her parents were in the basement and were crushed by the burning rubble. She was alone. Her only hopes in the world pinned to her distant husband. Although only 26 years old, Kristiane felt as though she had lived through a century of sorrow. After her parents' death she had moved in with her friend Margarethe whom she worked with at the condolence office at Wehrmacht headquarters. Together they waited out the worst winter of her life. Food was scarce, and nothing less than total determination to the German war effort was tolerated. The Gestapo became an ever present ear waiting to overhear every whisper. No one spoke of the dread growing in their hearts as the Soviet Army rolled ever closer, and the men began to disappear at an alarming rate. Accounts of Russian atrocities were used to stir up desperate resolve. Stories of women being raped by entire platoons of Russian soldiers arrived with the endless streams of refugees headed west. Kristiane prayed that the Americans would reach Berlin first, and protect Germany from the Red Army.

In the middle of winter, at the depths of Germany's despair she received a memo about Walther. He was missing in action. An M.I.A. from the East Front is just as good as an admission of death. When it arrived she couldn't eat for an entire week. She thought about killing herself, but didn't have the courage. Her grief was almost unbearable, and she continued her work as an unfeeling automaton. Her fingers and eyes worked together numbly, typing up endless form letters of death. Wilhelm Schnieder, Heinrich Gruner, Johann Meyer, Albert Finck....., a never ending list of dead names. Each of these was a man with a face, and a life which had been sacrificed for the failed vision of the Fuhrer.

By March, the Allies were besieging Germany proper and the armies of the Fuhrer were falling to pieces. The thunderous roar of the front line moved closer and closer until Frankfurt itself became the battleground. After a failed counterattack, The Wehrmacht could only put up a nominal resistance against the Americans. Unorganized gangs of young boys with missile launchers were Frankfurt Am-Main's final defenders. Kristiane had remained in her shelter for three excruciating days, waiting for the fighting to end. When she finally left the shelter, Kristiane felt completely numb. Dazed and exhausted, she stumbled home and slept for two days strait, a deep healing sleep that couldn't even begin to undo all of the damage that the war had inflicted upon her.

When she awoke, it was the tantalizing aroma of coffee and eggs that pulled her into consciousness. Walking to the kitchen, she found Margarethe over her skillet with a steaming mug of coffee in her hand. At that moment Kristiane was so filled with joy that she couldn't help but burst into tears. She had survived and for her the war was now over. Despite the loss of her family, her husband, and her country she felt happier then than she ever had felt before. Margarethe gave her a giant hug, and together they sat down to a wonderful breakfast.

That had been three days ago, and now Kristiane faced a new world, filled with uncertainty. The war continued, and everyone knew what the outcome would be. The Americans were pouring eastward across Germany, and the Red Army was pounding on the gates of Berlin.

As Kristiane ambled through the shattered ruins of the park, she could hear the birds chirping and singing their songs as though nothing had happened. Sitting on their perches in fallen trees, the war didn't matter at all to them. She wondered what would become of her, and what would become of Germany. The war had ravaged Europe, and put an entire generation of her young men into graves. She was one of millions of mothers, daughters and wives whom the war had robbed of their beloved.

Kristiane felt very lucky to live in western Germany, and to be occupied by the Americans. The Americans had been quite civil in their conquest, and aside from the looting they hadn't inflicted unnecessary hardship on the people of Frankfurt Am-Main. They were decent, friendly and operated with good military discipline. That and they were very handsome.

When Kristiane had asked Margarethe where she had gotten the coffee and eggs, Margarethe had replied with a naughty glow in her eyes.

"From an American."

"I see." Kristiane had intoned.

"Oh you must see them, I'm so glad that they are finally here. Now we will finally be safe." Gushed Margarethe.

Margarethe sat tall and thin, smiling from under her flowing auburn hair. Kristiane had been friends with Margarethe since high school. Unlike Kristiane who was something of a workaholic, Margarethe always had many boyfriends during school that she would lead on and tease endlessly. Now she had the entire US Army.

"So it's safe to go out?"

"Yes very much," replied Margarethe, "The fighting has moved past us and on towards Berlin. Soon it will all be over."

Walking home under the green canopy of trees, Kristiane pondered Margarethe's statement. How much longer would the war last? All around her were the twisted remains of 6 years of Nazi rule showing their vile faces. Her city in ruins, her people gutted by a hungry war, and the Red Army on the verge of capturing Berlin. The Germans had lost, but how long would the suffering continue. How long could the Americans possibly remain allied with the Russians?

Kristiane heard dimly from above the drone of propellers. She hated the sound made by propellers. Her office had been too close to the airport, and all day she had sat there hearing the planes take off and land. It was especially bad in the summertime, when all of the windows were open. The whole building would rattle. When the air raids began, the dull-vibrating beat of propellers mixed with explosions to create drivingly painful headaches. Even the faint sound of the propellers caused a slight twinge of pain in Kristiane's head. When they had passed over Kristiane once again felt relaxed and continued on her way home.

Walking east she walked towards the sun, shining in the bright blue sky. Down her street the houses stood in various shapes of disarray. Some stood unmolested by the bombing while others were nothing more than piles of bricks and boards. She had been lucky, her building hadn't been hit. She could see it now, just around the bend standing solidly over her neighbor's ruins. Such was the fate of war, she thought. One house is destroyed and another remains, and there is no reason for it. She had gotten used to this horrible reality during the war. There was no way to make sense of what happened, you just brushed yourself off and kept trudging forward. Despite all the ruin, the war hadn't erased the long standing habits that sustain humans. Already, typical German cleanliness had been restored to the road and well-laid stacks of bricks lined the cobblestone street.

A light breeze blowing down her street brought another smile out of her, reminding her what a beautiful day it was. She pulled her hair back and fastened it into a ponytail. She was going to treat herself to a nice cup of coffee and a few of her biscuits when she got home, and then maybe go for a nice bike ride in the sun. It was too nice to be clamped up inside on a day like this. She had spent the last year stuck in one claustrophobic space after another and now it was time to enjoy the safe, warm open air.

As she approached her building, she saw her landlady Frau Hoffenbach emerge from the front door. Frau Hoffenbach caught her gaze, and her round old face bunched up in an unpleasant sneer. The Rent, remembered Kristiane, how could she have forgotten? Kristiane walked towards her and waved politely. Frau Hoffenbach's expression didn't change.

"Frau Becker. This is the second month in a row that you have been late with your rent."

"I'm so sorry Frau Hoffenbach, it's just that Margarethe and I have been out of a job since our office was destroyed. I've been living off of my savings."

"I don't want excuses. We all have had it rough, so don't act as though you deserve special treatment. I could have a new tenant in your flat like that!" she snapped her fingers.

Kristiane looked at the long crooked nose of Frau Hoffenbach and wondered if she had some Jewish blood hidden in her somewhere.

"Don't worry; I'll have your money for you in no time."

Frau Hoffenbach eyed Kristiane's bag of groceries suspiciously.

"You had better, and next month I'm expecting the rent under my door on time. If it isn't there, you're out. Do you understand?"

"Of course Frau Hoffenbach, have a nice day."

Without saying anything, Frau Hoffenbach shuffled past Kristiane up the street.

As Kristiane placed the key upon the lock she heard from down the alley a faint giggle. It became a steady stream of laughter and hushed whispers between a man and a woman. It was coming from the old courtyard behind her building. The courtyard now lay almost entirely surrounded by rubble. She opened her door and walked into the dark dusty hallway. Beginning the climb up the narrow and grimy staircase, she remembered the observatory window that lay atop her building.

She wondered whether she could see the people in the courtyard from there. Taking her groceries with her, she walked past her flat and up two more flights of stairs, until she reached the flat and empty observatory. The wall was painted dull beige, same color as all of the others and on one wall there was a small round stained glass window frame, looking over the courtyard. It was shattered and one could only see the metal lattice that remained after the glass had been shattered. In proper German style, Frau Hoffenbach had already swept up all of the glass, and disposed of it. Sitting down in the corner, Kristiane slowly leaned forward, looking out onto the courtyard.

When they came into view, she could see that it was an American Soldier with a buxom young German girl. Huddled together against the mossy wall, his large frame enveloped hers. Her flaxen hair flowed around his brown uniform they came together for a long deep kiss. His left hand gently fondled her breast as he playfully pinned her up against the wall with his body.

Pressing her face against the cool glass portal, Kristiane could see their faces as they pulled apart momentarily to look each other in the eyes. A quiet manly smile shone under his adoring eyes. She reciprocated with a coy glance and pulled him back in for a longer and deeper kiss.

Upstairs in the observatory Kristiane watched with naughty interest. The American ran his hand through the girl's flowing hair and gently tilted her head back to place kisses all along her slender neck. Her face broke into a smile and a small giggle escaped her lips. A cast sunbeam illuminated his back as she brought him back to give him another deep kiss. He slid his tongue deep into her waiting mouth, and achingly ran his tongue down the length of hers. She let out a small moan, and took him deeper into her mouth. Running her hands down his back she grasped his firm backside, and pulled him so the hard bulge in his pants rubbed against her stomach. Emerging from the kiss, she once again looked him in the eyes, and then removed the cap from his head.

He responded to this by unbuttoning her blouse, button by button. He pulled it back over her shoulders, revealing her full breasts packed into their white brassiere. She arched her back and smiled as his hands kneaded her breasts through the white fabric. Her nipples poked forth as he pinched and rolled them between his fingers. Her mouth formed an O while he fondled her and her hips gyrated slowly against him. Losing his patience, he grabbed the straps of her bra and pulled it down. She let out a gasp as her naked breasts sprang out. The soldier grabbed her firm tits and squeezed them together roughly. She began moaning as he lightly flicked at her nipples with his tongue. Concentrating on her left breast he took her nipple deep into his mouth. She ran her hand through his short brown hair and pulled his head closer to her chest. He nuzzled gently into her warm breasts and kissed them softly while she blushed and rubbed his head.

She pushed out from against the wall and took a quick look both ways. He stood for a moment confused, and Kristiane thought for a moment that the girl had heard her rustling about. But the girl turned around and looked at him with a mischievous grin.

With a fluid motion she pulled up her skirt and lowered down to her knees in front of him. A glowing goofy smile grew across his face as her hands worked his belt loop loose and detached the cheap buckle. She unbuttoned the top button of his pants and slid down his zipper. His erect cock stood forth underneath his underwear, and the lovely young woman rubbed it gently up and down with her slim white hand. The man groaned in sudden anticipation as the girl lifted the top of his shorts off and released his cock. She grasped it gently with her hand and rubbed slowly up and down his long, hard shaft, eliciting from him a trembling inhalation.

She leaned forward and planted a small kiss on his tip before looking up at him with a smile. Bending it down, she took his cock into her mouth and took it in deep. He let out a moan and put his hand on her head as she rhythmically slid his sex in and out of her mouth.

Kristiane realized that she was watching a very private moment, and that she shouldn't be intruding on these young lovers. Yet, she couldn't pull herself away from the shattered window. The war had been a long nightmare, and the young couple had found enough room to live out a pleasurable fantasy. Kristiane felt hot and looked closely at the young soldier's face basked in sunlight.

He looked very much like Walther, blond and with a jutting chin. He was of a more broad build, and lacked the deep thoughtful eyes that had pulled her into his life. Watching this man run his fingers through her hair summoned up dusty memories of white sheets and the tangles of blond curls which covered Walther's hard chest. Hot tears began running down her face, as she remembered all the joys of her old life. Joys seen through the foggy glass of recall, Joys which existed only in her dreams and in the hearts of the young man and woman below.

The girl rose up into the man's arms and ran her finger up the length of his hard shaft. He turned her so that she was facing the wall, and bunched her skirt up around her waist. Using both hands he pulled down her panties, revealing her round behind. She bent over and placed her hands against the wall as he slid a finger along her love canal. Kristiane could not see her face, but saw her body tremble as he slid his hand back and forth.

The fraulien turned and whispered something to him. With that, the soldier grasped her hips and placed his erect cock against her moist opening. He went into her slowly, pushing her body forward against the brick wall. He pushed his cock in all the way to the base, and then slowly pulled out. He grabbed her by the hips and began sliding his cock in and out of her wet hole. She closed her eyes in ecstasy.