Free Rhineland Inheritance by T. Davis Bunn Page A

soldier.”
    Seven long tables filled what once had been a great family hall. Antlers and old blunderbusses decorated the high smoke-stained walls. The farmer and his wife, serious middle-aged folk, cooked and served with the help of a pair of shy country girls. The clientele was mixed. A few German civilian officials who had the power to obtain curfew passes sat in shiny suits beside women decked out in hats dating back to the thirties. They spoke in low whispers and avoided the eyes of everyone else. Most of the others were American officers from surrounding garrisons. Some escorted local girls. Those without female company sat in inebriated clusters and eyed the others with envy.
    Sally’s beauty drew a lot of stares. The candlelight flickered with gentle fingers across her face, deepening the glow in her eyes, softening her features. It even seemed to gentle her voice. “There’s no menu,” Sally explained as the host walked over and set two pewter mugs and a tall clay jug in front of them. “Homemade brew to drink, and whatever dish they have.”
    â€œSchweine Roladen mit getrokene Pfifferlingen und Knödeln,” the host said abruptly, “Zwei Dollarn pro Kopf.”
    â€œI only got the first couple of words of that,” Sally admitted.
    â€œIst gut, wir nehmen zwei Portionen,” Jake said for them both, then translated when he had left, “Pork loins rolled and stuffed with smoked ham. Pfifferlingen are mountain mushrooms, sort of nutty tasting. A lot of country peoplepick them in the fall and hang them out to dry. Knödeln are big potato dumplings.”
    Sally shrugged out of her jacket, a stiff affair meant to copy a uniform’s uncompromising lines. Underneath she wore a starched white blouse which accented the delicate curves of her body. Her hair was pinned back, but enough had escaped to fall in abundant auburn disarray around her shoulders. “Where did you learn your German?”
    â€œI was studying at the university when I was called up,” he said by rote, then stopped himself. “That’s not exactly true.”
    She leaned across the table. “Are we going to be truthful tonight, soldier? Sounds dangerous.”
    He ignored the jibe. “My brother was already in the infantry. Nothing was ever said about it, I guess there was no need to. After I finished my second year at university, I enlisted. That’s just how things were. The last thing my dad told me was, be a good soldier. I was brought up to obey my parents. I did as I was told.”
    â€œWhere are you from?”
    â€œA small town nobody ever heard of. Sauderton. Pennsylvania. Dutch country. Solid people. Hard-working. Bedrock of the nation type of folk. The kind who go where they’re told and do what they’re told to do.”
    She inspected his face, and said, “Are you looking forward to going back?”
    Slowly Jake shook his head. No.
    â€œWhy not? The decorated war hero coming home to a grateful nation. They’ll have a parade for you, Jake. Make all kinds of speeches.”
    â€œParades come to an end,” Jake replied quietly, his eyes fixed on the fire. “Speeches go where all hot air goes.”
    â€œWhy don’t you want to go home?” Sally pressed.
    â€œI’m just kind of lost, I suppose,” he said quietly. “Here or there doesn’t seem to matter so much, when ‘there’ is no longer the place I left behind. People and places change, Istay the same.” He turned to face her. “Lost here, lost there, what’s the difference?”
    For some reason his words had stripped her bare. It took a while for her to gather herself, then she asked, “What is it you’re after?”
    â€œI don’t know,” he sighed. “Things just seemed a lot clearer in the war. Everything came down to one basic rule—knock out the enemy. That was the only way to survive.”
    â€œWeren’t