“Ja,” Bruno said.
“This is for you, sir.” He handed Bruno a slip of paper, saluted, and then left.
Bruno unfolded the message.
Oberleutnant Bruno Wahler is hereby summoned to meet with Fritz Haber, head of the Chemistry Section in the Ministry of War, at 4:00 p.m. on 14th January 1917. Location: Officers’ boardinghouse, Lille.
Bruno rubbed the stubble on his chin.A meeting with Haber on short notice cannot be good.He glanced at his watch and realized that he’d need to leave immediately to have a chance to arrive on time. He darted to his dugout, where he found a letter addressed to him with Anna’s handwriting on his bunk. He placed the letter and his personal items into a leather case, and then made his way to a field hospital, where he hitched a ride in an ambulance that was headed to Lille. Bruno sat in the back on the floor, between double bunks of cots that held four injured soldiers, the worst of whom was a man with a severed leg from which brown pus oozed through the bandaged stump. A foul stench of gangrene pervaded Bruno’s nose. To distract himself, he retrieved Anna’s letter from his case and read.
You’re a kind soul, Anna,Bruno thought.But I hope that you will not place a dog’s well-being above your own.
Of course I will.The ambulance struck a rut, bouncing Bruno from the floor. He steadied himself by stretching out his legs and continued reading.
I will not be seeing my parents, Bruno thought.I haven’t even written them about my leave.
“Wasser,” a soldier moaned. He lifted his hands, trembling and wrapped in field dressings. “Wasser.”
Bruno located a canteen in a medical supply box, dribbled water into the man’s mouth, and then returned to reading his letter.
Exoneration of my crimes may not be possible, Bruno thought. Moans and whimpers grew as the road condition deteriorated, shaking the soldiers’ battered bodies in their bunks. He struggled to bury his anguish, as well as shut out the pain and suffering that reverberated inside the ambulance. And for the rest of the journey, he closed his eyes and lowered his head onto his knees.
Despite his attempt to be punctual, he arrived in Lille over an hour late, due to the ambulance getting stuck twice in the mud. Reaching the officers’ boardinghouse, Bruno—his chest swirling with dread—climbed the stairs and knocked. Seconds later, delicate footsteps grew from inside, and the door swung open.
“Bruno,” Celeste said. She greeted him with a kiss on both cheeks. “Haber is in the parlor.”
He paused, looking into her eyes. “How are you?”
She smiled. “I am well. And you?”
“I’m all right,” he lied.
“It’s good to see you,” she said.
“You too.”
She glanced at his leather case. “Will you be staying?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I packed in the event Haber requires my presence in Lille.”
“I’ll place it in your room.” She took his coat and leather case, her fingers brushing his hand.
An image of their bare bodies—entwined as one—flashed in Bruno’s head, sending a twinge of guilt through his abdomen. He slipped his cap from his head and held it to his chest. “I wish I would have said more when I left. I feel bad about how I left things between us.”
She placed the case in front her, as if she was creating a barrier between them. “We can talk later. Haber’s waiting for you.”
Bruno nodded. He made his way to the parlor, where Haber was sitting at a table with a newspaper and a half-empty bottle of wine.
Haber lowered his paper and frowned. “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I came as soon as I received your message.”
“You’re a mess,” Haber said, looking at Bruno’s mud-covered boots.
“I hitched a ride in an ambulance, which got stuck in mud. The driver needed my help to push it out, and to unload and reload the injured soldiers.”
“I expect you to leave the menial tasks to others,” Haber said. “You have more important matters to tend to.”
“Ja, sir,” Bruno said.
