Chapter 4
In The Shelter
On May 14th at dusk we were near a small farm next to the Blekker mill at Saint-Ides-bald.
The amount of traffic in this deserted hole seemed as dense as the center of Brussels or Paris.
One endless stream of cars, vans, carts, buses and many other types of prehistoric-looking vehicles crawled along the road.
Once again, as they had been doing for the last three days, a squadron of Messerschmidts dropped a few bombs.
There was a terrific mess! Screams and cries of horror pierced the air; then a flash, a shock and oblivion.
When I came to I found myself lying on the straw in a barn.
My first vision was the homely face of a peasant woman:
"Well, now, how do you feel?"
"So—so ... "
"You are all right, you know. It's only the shock. You were brought here by local people."
Things began to come back.
"What about my mother?"
"I don't know anything about her, but don't worry, I'll find out."
She shouted:
"Jef! Jef!"
He came running in, a solid looking son of the soil, with a red smiling face despite the war and all it meant to him.
"You don't know where her mother is, do you?"
"She left for Furness."
"Gone!" I cried.
"Yes."
"How is she?"
"Perfectly all right. When we found you, you were lying alone unconscious on the road; so I picked you up," he added smiling.
"I want to join her."
"You're too weak!"
"No, I assure you I can get along perfectly well; I want to go!"
I thanked both the kind peasants and a little later I found myself taking a shortcut through the fields, which they had showed me.
I did not get very far.
I had been walking for about five minutes, when:
"Halte la!"
A soldier, his finger on the trigger, his bayonet pointing uncomfortably in my direction, abruptly jumped out from nowhere.
Surprised at seeing only a young girl, he said more gently:
"Where are you going?"
"To Furness."
"What are you going to do there?"
"I want to find my mother."
"I am sorry, it's not possible!"
"What do you mean, not possible?"
"I have my orders. Furness is a military zone. I can't let you through!"
"But I have to get through!"
"Sorry, you'll have to go back."
From a neighboring hut another figure came out. He was a sergeant. The sentry snapped to attention.
"Sergeant, this girl insists she must get to Furness."
The subaltern looked me over suspiciously, as if catching spies was one of their few distractions.
Distant but polite, he began:
"What are you going to do at Furness?"
I explained.
"Quite, quite. I know all about that. There are thousands of you looking for so-called parents. I'll go and see the lieutenant. As for now, take her away and guard her."
We had hardly started off when we heard the now familiar sound of approaching fighters.
"Run for shelter!" shouted the sergeant.
We ran towards a hangar, but he, very sure of himself, stood outside the door, peering at the sky. The next moment found us crouching down while bullets spattered round. It lasted but a moment and through it all, the sergeant stood, in all his glory, staring at the enemy.
I shall never understand how they managed to miss him.
We got out.
"Take her to the lieutenant for questioning."
"Yes, sir."
And there I was, on my way to Furness as I had intended, but under escort.
We got to the farm which was being used as the headquarters of the 2d Grenadiers. As it was dinner time, the smell of good cooking reminded me I was starving.
My guard handed me over to his two comrades:
"Watch her carefully, she may be a spy! I'll get the officer in charge."
As well as being young, I was naturally optimistic and I was frightfully hungry. "I have not eaten since this morning." I smiled as graciously as possible at my jailers.
They immediately understood me. I heard a strong Belgian accent:
"If you're hungry, you'll eat!"
He handed over his tincan after having filled it to the brim.
"Thank you."
"Drink!" the other said, laughing as he passed over his mug full of beer.
After all I had been through I ate with a will. I have never tasted anything better. I began to feel mellow and thought as my self-confidence came back that this episode was not so unpleasant after all.
For the first time in my life I was alone, free to do as I pleased, although I suppose I was considered a spy. My taste for adventure gave me confidence. I would soon be with mother at Furness, and this would have been a delightful interlude.
A sergeant stalked into the room.
"Bad news, I am afraid. The Jerries have captured Brussels. Liege is still holding out but things are really going to the dogs."
There was dead silence. I am no patriot but it gave me a jolt to realize that they were already in Brussels.
My former guard came in.
"Follow me."
We got to the shelter. At last I saw him. He stood in the center of the room under a harsh light which picked out every detail of his well-cut lieutenant's uniform. In a jiffy I took in his whole anatomy. He was a fine, upstanding young man. I immediately fell for him.
But he seemed scarcely interested.
"Sit down, Miss. Your name?"
"Monique van P—."
"Any relation to the Comte van P— of Bruges?"
"I am his daughter."
"Oh!"
He unbent a little.
"How old are you?"
"Fifteen."
"What were you doing in the front lines?"
"I lost my mother during the raid near the Blekker mill and I was trying to get to her at Furness."
"Naturally you and your mother wanted to get over the border?"
"Yes."
"I am sorry, I have to do my duty."
He got hold of my traveling bag which contained everything I had on me and spilled it out on the desk. A few letters, small change, powder, lipstick etc ...
He checked the addresses on the envelopes, carefully compared me with two or three photos from my wallet, then put it all back.
In a couple of strides he was near me. He passed his hands lightly over my back. Oh! that first contact with a man's hands! I thought I should faint.
The feel of their touch was soft and thrilling. I quivered with pleasure. But oh, he was already searching my breasts, quickly, much too quickly. Barely a fraction of a second I felt his hand on the tiny tips of my young and as yet unformed breasts. Too soon his hands worked down my belly, further down along my thighs, then gently squeezing my buttocks.
Oh, you poor insensitive fighter of a war already lost ten times over, why couldn't you understand how I longed for you to continue your probings, how I loved the feel of your hands on my summer dress!
Suddenly he stopped.
"Take your shoes off, please ... "
I obeyed, carefully lifting up my skirt as high as possible. If he had wanted to, he could have got an eyeful: my buttocks, my naked thighs, my pink panties and even more interesting juicy details.
He did not take the slightest notice. It was clear he was thinking of something else.
He carefully scrutinized my shoes, then handed them back to me.
"Thank you, you can go now. Allow me to apologize and to offer a little friendly advice: get to Furness, as soon as possible, then straight on to France. Brussels has fallen and I fear that by tomorrow we ourselves shall be completely surrounded."
"Thank you."
He saluted. Then it dawned on me, this man was a real soldier, his sole concern was for the dangers and cares of the present situation. Nothing else affected him. A real shame!
So I left the camp with a safe conduct.
Another beautiful day was coming to a close and with the carelessness of youth I was really beginning to enjoy this marvelous adventure.
Alas, I had hardly been gone for ten minutes than I again heard a familiar buzzing about my ears. I was beginning to know the routine by now. I scuttled towards a small concrete shelter I had noticed a few yards away.
It was deliciously dark and cool inside.
It had been used recently, so as the floor had been thoughtfully littered with straw by the latest occupants, I voluptuously flopped down on it.
The throbbing of airplane engines gradually drew more distant and a pleasant feeling of drowsiness stole over me. I felt the weariness slowly sinking down my legs and my whole body.
Abruptly a vivid recollection of the lieutenant came back to me. How I had loved that excruciating contact of his soft hands on my breasts, on my belly ... !
Instinctively, my hand slid to my breasts and slowly I began stroking my nipples with my right hand while my left lifted my dress.
Deftly it glided between my outstretched legs.
How dangerous can be these lonesome manipulations !
I couldn't stand it any longer. My impatient fingers tore at my slip and, still playing about with my breasts, I masturbated, languorously thinking of the lieutenant.
At last came the extreme rapture! Brutally, elatedly, I felt transported to a seventh heaven of carnal delight.
I let out a soft sigh and, blissfully exhausted, fell asleep.
I was knocked out of my slumber by a terrifying row. There was a tremendous clatter; with a fearful uproar, the roof seemed to be caving in and the floor coming up to meet me. The night was deadly black, only occasionally illuminated by the flash of a bomb exploding.
I was dead scared, I crouched panting against the floor, expecting every second to be my last.
There was a lull and for a moment everything was peaceful again. All of a sudden a dazzling light shone in my face. This time it was no shell flash but the beam of an electric torch.
Someone had come in.
Still blinded by the light, I couldn't see the intruder.
Again I heard that dreaded buzz, then a fearful explosion close by. An instant later, howling with fright, I found myself hurled to the ground by the blast.
That had been a close call!
But I felt a man's arms around my shoulders and a soft voice murmur:
"Don't be afraid, little girl ... "
He had switched off the torch. Everything was dark. Trembling, I nestled against this stranger's welcome breast.
Another explosion, further away this time; but this time I didn't yell; I just snuggled closer to my mysterious visitor.
How long did I remain there? I don't know. Now all was quiet and the shelter completely obscure. After a while I felt something hurting my breasts. I groped in the dark. Then I understood, my stranger was a soldier and the copper buttons of his overcoat were pressing into me. I was relieved. I disengaged myself gently as it was getting as warm as an oven.
He stretched out as well.
I sensed he was taking off his overcoat with the scratching buttons. All the better. He again took me in his arms and whispered:
"Don't be afraid, it's all over now."
He spoke French, with the same accent they had used back at the camp. He was probably one of them.
What if he was my lieutenant? No, unfortunately, it wasn't his voice.
At 15 I was only a kid but I already knew I had plenty of spirit. Already at that age, I was depraved, inexperienced it's true, but the least contact with a man excited me and set me on fire.
He was now in his shirtsleeves; I could feel the moistness of his body. Was he young or old, handsome or ugly? It was pitch dark. I couldn't tell and couldn't have cared less.
He was beginning to warm up too. He lay his left hand on my breasts. At last this was my lucky day!
He didn't just look me over, he got hold of my right breast and gently began stroking it.
I could not restrain a jerk of pleasure. He understood at once and went straight to work.
He slid his hand in my dress and this time started off petting my naked breasts. Then I felt him fondling my nipples.
I stiffened, and my titties too.
Still stroking and caressing, my stranger glued his lips to mine.
Eliane and other schoolmates had already kissed my mouth during our "innocent pranks." But now ... I was getting my first real kiss ... from a man.
At first I had instinctively tightened my lips but with delight I felt his tongue pry them open, insert itself in my mouth, darting in and out of my throat.
It was a long time ago, yet as I write, I still seem to feel that warm clammy mouth glued to mine, his breath sinking into me and the velvet pressure of his greedy wet lips.
I'd better not go on because I wouldn't be able to continue writing my memoirs.
It would be a shame dear readers, because it's beginning to get a trifle daring.
He stopped his kissing abruptly. His hand stopped his caresses, then without hesitation flew to my blouse. He popped out my breasts, at that time pretty tiny, exposed them fully, then avidly stuck his mouth to their stiffened points, while sucking them hungrily one after another.
This time I felt completely entranced. I sighed gently. This probably seemed rather amusing to him but made clear how excited I was. Then I became aware of an excruciating sensation of intense heat lower down, my thighs unconsciously rubbing together, increasing my desire. I was now completely gone. If my partner had ceased, I felt strong enough to hold him back and force him to take me, to possess me, to do to me what we had so often talked about at school, of which I had always dreamed but never experienced.
But he hadn't the least intention of stopping.
Not for an instant ceasing, greedily sucking my titties, his hand turned up my skirt, ripped off my last defense, then knowing fingers squeezed between my legs, amorously stroking my hairless cunt.
I exploded straightaway.
My partner grunted with pleasure, got hold of my hand and put it between his legs.
At last I held the "thing" which I had only seen twice before.
How thick, how warm!
I admit I was a little scared. Seeing and handling it at last, my opportunity had come! Not for long. He withdrew slightly, and gently spread out my legs completely.
I was half crazed by his caresses, yet in a flash I saw it all as clearly as crystal.
The fatal moment had arrived. This yearned-for moment which we had all longed for at the convent.
"It's very painful and you bleed a lot," had said my elder sister.
"It's not true, it is heaven and not at all agony," had replied my cousin.
And so on, and so on. Each one of the bigger girls had given her opinion.
Now I was going to get firsthand information.
At any rate, in my case it all went off perfectly.
My legs spread apart under his pressure, I filled my eyes with the proceedings. He placed his prick between my legs and moved upward on his knees until it was abreast of my crotch. He parted the hairless slit with an expert's touch and inserted "the monster" between my eagerly awaiting lips.
The feel of his massive tool was far more agreeable than his fingers; then, as he suddenly pushed on his member, I felt a violent scorching within me. Feeling his pecker driving deeper in, an overwhelming desire to help him in his possession took hold of me.
Instinctively, my whole body making one with his, we set off into a rhythmic frenzy of phallic ardor.
Faster and faster, deeper and deeper he pierced into me.
All of a sudden my lover stiffened, and his final spasm thrust me into a heaven of softness and relief.
It was all over.
Still only half realizing what had happened, I sank down next to him with a deep moan.
Delicately he put his arms around me.
"It did not hurt too much, did it?"
I couldn't have answered, I just shook my head negatively, then with childish ardor, passionately I clung my lips to his. Being young I put everything in that kiss: satisfied passion, tenderness and above all the ancestral gratitude of the virgin for her possessor who had made her a woman.
How long we stayed locked, now chastely together, I could not say.
Anyhow I had long ago lost all notion of time.