Winfred

36

Official Report

British Intelligence

Code: 3986

Kathleen Winfred

The next time the air raid sirens sounded, we found ourselves downstairs in a faster period of time than ever before.

However, Von Steubon was missing, a fact which Pirot and Albert found somewhat disturbing, some of their worry transferring over to me. Albert was just going to go look for him when Von Steubon entered, Schubert in his arms. Apparently, the little dog had heard the sirens and taken refuge under the bed, leaving Von Steubon to try and find him.

Everyone seemed sober; there was no entertainment or warm camaraderie this time. Most everyone went back to attempting to sleep. Someone dimmed the lights to aid in people’s sleeping efforts.

Schubert, realizing that his master was busy having a whispered conversation with Pirot and Albert, came to me, taking the seat next to me and resting his head on my lap. I petted his head, scratching him behind the ears until he sighed with pleasure and fell asleep.

Eventually, Von Steubon finished talking, and remained standing by himself in the corner while Pirot and Albert made their way to two spots on the opposite side of the room, where Pirot fell asleep with her head on Albert’s shoulder.

Eventually, Von Steubon made his way over to retrieve Schubert, before turning and preparing to retreat once more for his corner.

“This seat is free,” I said, pointing to the spot Schubert had just vacated. He looked at me for a few moments, silent, before the sound of a bomb exploding in the distance made him flinch slightly. He sat down quickly, still holding Schubert.

I was curious about Von Steubon’s reactions to the air raids. Every time, he seemed fine as long as he had something to occupy himself with, such as taking head count of the prisoners and soldiers, or speaking with Pirot and Albert. However, whenever that distraction was gone and everyone had settled in to sleep or quiet conversations, he seemed to be not at ease and to withdraw into himself.

As neither of us was going to sleep, I proceeded to draw him into a whispered conversation which went something like what follows.

“You’re afraid of them, aren’t you.”

“Of what?”

“The bombs. The air raids.”

“Of course not.”

Another explosion, another instance in which Von Steubon flinched.

“You are.”

A heavy sigh. “Perhaps. They make me uneasy.”

“Why? You’re a German commander. One would think you’d be used to this sort of thing.”

“Used to it, yes. At ease with it, no.” He turned to look at me, frowning slightly. “Why the interrogation? Do you not know that it is not polite to pry into matters that do not concern you?”

“You interrogate me on a regular basis.”

“You know that’s a formality.”

“What do you do, anyways, when people actually do break and give you real information?”

“Change it. Only enough so that it still appears genuine but ends up being the wrong date, or the wrong location coordinates. Enough to throw them off track but not enough to make them suspicious.”

“Why do you help us?”

A long pause. Then:

“Because I do not believe that what we are doing is right.”

“Why are you a German Captain then?”

The longest pause yet. The all-clear sounded. Von Steubon stood quickly. He tried to keep his expression impassive, but failed.

"I don't wish to continue this conversation."

I just watched as he hastened from the basement, Schubert scampering after him.

All I could think about was his expression at the end. One of confusion. One of inner conflict. A look of pain, almost, or struggle. 

I could not help but wonder about what Von Steubon hid behind his seemingly impenetrable exterior.