Chapter 6 – A Night to Remember  

      The outskirts of Berlin - Sometime after the city's liberation. A perfectly polished black car rolls along a ruined street, makeshift lights reflecting like gold against its shiny metal exterior. The roads have been cleared of rubble and the continuous din of construction booms around the city despite it being late in the evening, the sun having already set several hours ago.

      Inside three Karlsland aces bicker, joke and laugh as they tend to do. Erica Hartmann, Gertrud Barkhorn and Minna Wilcke all occupy the fancy leather rear seats of the luxury automobile, dressed to perfection in their military uniforms, several medals pinned on their chests. Barkhorn, as usual is giving Erica a stern dressing down over her sloppiness. They have a rigid schedule to keep, somewhere important to be, but in typical Hartmann fashion it still took her over an hour to rise from her lazy slumber back at base. 

       “I don’t even want to go to this thing anyway” Erica moans with a yawn. 

       “Well I don’t do parties either but we're going out there to represent Karlsland, we have to be on top form!” a fed up Gertrud retorts as she fixes Hartmanns sloppy tie. Erica, through her board haze, notices a bag resting at Minnas side, arousing her curiosity. 

       “What’s with the bag Minna?” she asks. From the dark leather handbag Minna pulls a large bottle covered in Fuso writing. 

       “It’s sake. Yoshika asked me to give it to the men as thanks for all their hard work.” Minna says drawing hesitant whispers from her partners. 

       “No ones going to drink that stuff.” Erica jokes. They all know that’s probably true. At least Miyafuji meant well. 

      The roadster pulls up outside a large opulently adorned hall, its windows bursting with illumination, banners swaying in the wind bearing the Karlsland flag. The sky is crossed with the beams of searchlights being used as party decorations and the air is filled with the sounds of grandeur and enjoyment. A band playing classical music can be heard loudly even from outside the building. 

      As the door’s of their transport swing open the trio of witches step out to be greeted by a well dressed crowd of admirals and generals, but mostly the ordinary men of the Wermacht and Luftwaffe in their cleanly ironed uniforms. A great cheer explodes from the gathered soldiers as the famed girls make their way towards the hall, where inside more military men gather in celebration. 

       “I can’t believe this place is so intact.” Barkhorn says in amazement, glancing around the magnificent century manor house . 

      “It’s the only beer garden left in all of Berlin. Trust me I’ve read the recon reports.” Minna replies with a hearty chuckle. Soon the gang arrive at their reserved table, a large white space covered in perfectly arranged silver and glass. Army High Command had spared no expense throwing this victory banquet in honour of the liberation of Berlin. Tonight the witches would dine in luxury in the heart of their capital city, in ruins yes, but free at last.

      The party stretches on long into the night, courses of fine meats and fish, chocolate filled cakes, wines from re-established vineyards, things that they probably should be saving under rationing, but the occasion calls for indulgence. Naturally Erica gorges herself on sweets as her comrades at least try to hold down a sense of decorum. Every now and then a soldier or a worker would approach their table to give thanks or just to meet the legendary girls. At first it was pleasant but after hours of stuffy, formal partying even Minna is becoming tired of this repetitive dullness. 

       “How much longer do we have to stay here?” Erica asks, sounding totally deflated. Her friends can’t even answer; they simply look forward with empty blank faces, switched off from their surroundings. Eventually the boredom becomes too much for Erica to handle and she clambers up from her seat to march over to somewhere deeper in the room obscured by the mass of figures. Gertrud musters the strength to turn to Minna and places her hand on hers softly . 

      “I’m going to miss you” smiles Trude with a hint of sadness. 

       “I’m just glad I could see this before retirement.” Minna says as she takes a sip from her Champaign. 

        “Hey now, you're not actually retiring. You’re still a Karlsland soldier after all.” Trude snaps back, almost causing Minna to choke . 

       “Of course, it's just swapping out my guns for a pen is...” She says before Gertrud quickly interrupts her. 

        “Exactly what you’ve been doing all the time I’ve known you? You’re a fantastic witch, an amazing Commander, but you’re also great at all that boring admin stuff as well. I’m just glad it’s you and not me.” Trude laughs, giving Minna a friendly nudge on the shoulder. 

        “Thank you Gertrud.” Minna replies softly. 

       This moment of quiet is suddenly interrupted by the sound of cheers and boisterous singing coming from across the hall. As the crowd clears the two girls are shocked to see Erica amassed with a group of soldiers and airmen, hands full with overflowing beer steins. As one they belch out familiar Karlslandic drinking songs in a joyful, drunken chorus. Even the once cold and formal band on stage begins joining in with a bouncing, trumpeting tune. Trude, in a shocked rage, bounds over to Hartmann to demand an explanation. 

       Before she can even open her mouth however, a splashing, spilling jug of foamy beer is thrust into her hands by a gleaming soldier. Looking down at her younger companion, then back at Minna, who smiles a confident grin Gertruds inhibitions vanish, desperately wanting to destroy the night's built up boredom. As soon as Gertrud begins drinking the room erupts into a thunderous uproar. The dreary, formal night was over, the real party begins now. 

       The music booms, beer flows like rivers of gold, men stand atop the pristine tables singing out in glorious celebration. The whole place has descended into a crazed alcohol fuelled mess. Some men have removed their trousers, presumably trying to mimic the witches and showing no shame for it. One man leads a great line of can-canning soldiers while wearing a pickelhaube, who knows where he got it. At one corner of the room a fantastic game has broken out to see who can eat the most bratwurst. When the sausages run out someone cracks open a crate of Liberion hamburgers, delivered earlier in the day. They’re not really from Hamburg, but the men don’t seem to care. At some point the bottle of sake was even drunk. 

       After a shove from one rowdy admiral, Minna finds herself pushed back into a leather seat at the side of the excited hall. Next to her she’s surprised to find Heidemarie Schnaufer looking quite uncomfortable, shy and out of place among this display. Across the room Erica is chugging down against a huge mountain of a Wirmacht artilleryman when the front doors of the ballroom suddenly crash open.

      With the band coming to a screeching halt a man steps into this mad circus dressed in a perfectly kept general’s uniform. He looks sternly over the sight before him with narrowed eyes and a grim pout. After a moment of tense anticipation he beams a huge smile and raises his arms in signal for the party to continue. Erwin Rommel has arrived and with him, much to Ericas dismay, Hanna Marseille. Surely they would get into some form of competition this night. 

       By the time the sun rises over the shattered ruins of Berlin the party was in its last dying hours. Erica lies fast asleep on a seat next to her sister; Ursula wearing some form of experimental beer hat. Minna, who at some point in the night had changed into a glamorous red dress, sits with Trude in a drunken stupor at their table. It certainly has been a night to remember and quite the send off for their beloved wing commander. Knowing they should probably get back to base soon Trude stumbles to her feet and wobbles over to Erica. 

        “Hart *hick* Hartmann… we have to go… get up.” she can barely say, slurring her words slowly. The once oh-so disciplined soldier looks a total mess as she tries in vain to shake her small colleague awake. When she receives no response her normal frustration boils to the surface. Grabbing a half finished glass of water from a nearby table she rudely splashes the sleeping girl in the face. “Hartmann wake up!”

       It really was a night to remember… Erica groans a deep grunt as she stirs awake after having been knocked out. Her head throbs in a dull, nauseating pain and her eyes remain blurry and narrow. She’s soaking wet and drenched through as she sits tied tightly to the arms of a rather uncomfortable chair. Before her stands several soldiers. They look like Karlslanders but as she comes back to reality she knows that can’t be the case. They look at her with fear, apprehension and hatred as they hold metal buckets with which they’ve been dowsing her in freezing cold water. 

       Raising her head to look around she finds herself in a strange unnerving location. She seems to be in a bunker of some kind, earth walls supported by thick wooden timbers fills the air with a damp, moist musk. A gas lantern hangs from the root crossed ceiling, swaying gently and casting shadows in the yellow light. In her mouth she can feel something damp and sour, a rag preventing her from speaking.

        “Gruppenfuhrer she’s awake!” one of the man call out loudly. 

        “That’s good I was getting bored.” Erica hears from somewhere behind her in a thick, heavy accent.