Child of the Journey by Janet Berliner, George Guthridge Page A

few days, she had been more distant, more preoccupied than ever. The longer he waited, the less benign he felt toward her--and the less inclined to give her something bought in a fit of tenderness and longing. He was sure she would find a way to denigrate his gift. Not crassly sarcastic, but subtly and, thus, more emotionally devastating. He had no way to fight her verbal choreographies, except to play the stoic soldier and swallow his rage.
    Worse yet, like a mother offering strudel because one's blocks were picked up, she would invite him to his reward between her legs--reminding him all the while that her hatred of anything Nazi or even vaguely military was being fueled by his weakness for her.
    What would happen then? Doubtless another erectile failure and the pretense that her satisfaction was all he wanted this night. Small wonder that the act which he had in the past anticipated with pleasure now revolted him, as it had done ever since the business with Hempel and that poor prostitute. What had her name been? Toy.
    There was only one female with whom he could truly share his feelings, Erich thought. The one who had loved him unconditionally.
    Taurus.
    Slipping into his black silk robe, he poured himself a cognac against the November dawn, pocketed the bracelet, and went outside. By the time he reached the kennels, he had disposed of the brandy. He was about to set the glass under a tree, where he could find it later, when he saw that the duty officer was Krayller--a loner who would certainly not find the need for a cognac unbecoming of the conduct of his superior officer.
    "You weren't scheduled for duty tonight," Erich said.
    Though Erich's tone was conversational, Krayller reddened. "One of the other men." His reluctance to name the man stemmed, Erich knew, from an effort to avoid getting the other trainer in trouble. "I'm filling in."
    Erich tried to rearrange his features to reflect a stern demeanor in the face of the trainers again changing the duty roster without permission, but secretly the esprit de corps and self-sufficiency the trainers exhibited pleased him. He took pride in the fact that his men were different from so many German soldiers, with their rigidity and blind insistences. While his men certainly knew the value of following orders, he encouraged them to question. To think for themselves, unlike some of the so-called finest units-- who reminded him of the Communist insurgents of his childhood whose takeover had failed because they'd lacked proper tickets to board the train. One conductor, armed with nothing but a ticket punch, had stopped a coup.
    As a member of the Abwehr, the military-security branch of the armed forces, he had visited many units and often been on assessment teams. What others applauded made him shudder. He had asked himself: what would become of those units if the officers were killed, or if the commander were a Judas goat? What would become of the country?
    "I've no problem with changes. Just make sure the paperwork's proper," Erich said, nodding at Krayller. "Oberschütze Müller visiting his sister again?"
    The man hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, Sir," he said. "And thank you, Sir." He adjusted his carbine on his shoulder.
    Erich thought about Ursula Müller, remembering the time when, both of them barely into puberty, she had tried to goad him into probing her with his damaged fingers. She was ready for something new and different she had said. His fearful refusal had triggered her sarcastic laughter and made him so angry that he had lied to the other boys--Solomon among them--bragging about something he hadn't done.
    Now where was she, with her weak IQ and strong libido? A depressive, institutionalized by the New Order and forced to service the officers under threat of involuntary sterilization.
    "You're forever filling in," Erich said. "Volunteering in an emergency I can understand. But you seem to make a career of it."
    The corporal scooped up the affenpinscher, his constant