A Change in the Wind

Chapter 1

It was a warm, sunny day in the small picturesque town of Nouvion. The town square was alive with the townsfolk enjoying the rare early autumn weather; couples walked arm-in-arm by the fountain, children were playing tag amongst the market stalls and various cafes situated around the square, where several citizens were scattered among the outdoor tables, enjoying a late afternoon drink and chatting about the various affairs of the day.

The town favourite, the Café Rene, was unusually quiet for this time of day. The reason for this was such; one of the town's occupying German Officers had chosen to make the most of the glorious day, and instead of taking up his usual table inside the café, had decided to enjoy his usual cognac at the café's prized outdoor table with the grandest view of the square.

Lieutenant Gruber's presence was an uneasy one for the villagers. Whilst he was generally regarded to be the most agreeable and harmless of all the German Officers, the fact remained that he was still working underneath the instruction of the Fuhrer; and so had the power to take anyone prisoner at will, or to have any peasant shot at the snap of his fingers. It was no surprise that the Café Rene was the least favourable place to seek refreshment or company on this particular afternoon.

Not that Lieutenant Gruber posed any more of a threat today than any other day; he had far more pressing matters on his mind…

"Lieutenant!" exclaimed a soft, French accent, arousing Gruber from his thoughts. "How good to see you! Although I might ask, what has prompted you to move from your window table inside? We save that one especially for you and the Colonel, you know; you need only ask…"

"Ah, Rene," Gruber responded softly. "I must apologise, my mind has been absent for quite some time… I see I must be dwindling your business today – I will remove myself at once. My sincerest apologies…"

Gruber's manner stopped Rene dead in his tracks. This wasn't the forward, borderline flirtatious man he knew. There must be something wrong for him to be so quiet, and so alone. Rene sighed as he made his decision; business may not be good today, but a cut in takings was better than being discovered by another German Officer to be ejecting Gruber from his seat – and it was definitely better than facing the firing squad.

"Never you mind, Lieutenant. I see you are preoccupied today – allow me to bring you another cognac, on the house. Feel free to stay as long as you would like."

Gruber exhaled. "Why, thank you Rene. You are most kind." Rene nodded his acknowledgement as he removed the Lieutenant's empty glass from the table and retreated back inside the café.

The Lieutenant looked back out across the square, mind still deep in thought, barely disturbed by the brief interaction. The morning's meeting had not gone well, to say the least; far too many of the items on the agenda had concerned himself and the Colonel and their various mistakes, most importantly to do with the location of the missing paintings, which neither of them knew. Gruber suspected that Rene might have some information on the matter, but did not want to disturb him further. He had already infringed upon the poor man's business upon this day, and he knew that dear, dear Rene was already helping the Germans – under orders, of course – far more than most; and Gruber felt bad for this fact.

Gruber was briefly snatched away from his thoughts by the smallest waitress at the café, Mimi Labonq, setting down his cognac on the table with a curt nod and an acknowledgement of "Lieutenant." Gruber murmured a thank you and watched as the bite-size woman hurried back into the café. He turned back and took a large gulp of his drink, his thoughts returning to the events of the meeting; and he groaned as he recalled the event that was to occur a mere matter of weeks from now. These wretched formalities…

"Gruber! Are you paying attention?!" demanded General Von Klinkerhoffen. Gruber's heart skipped a beat and he snapped to attention.

"Yes, General!" Of course, he had spent the last 10 minutes or so poring over the small matter of the missing portrait of the Fallen Madonna with the Big Boobies; but he dare not let on that he had not the faintest idea what the topic of conversation was anymore.

"Good. I should think so too. The Fuhrer will not accept any mistakes. He will not take any lack of preparation lightly."

At this, Gruber's attention was fully upon the matter at hand. The mention of the Fuhrer had struck fear into his heart; he was aware, from previous meetings, that the visit of the Fuhrer and Goering was imminent. He could only assume that the time had finally arrived.

"I trust I can leave the preparations in your capable hands, Colonel?" the General continued. Colonel Von Strohm confidently acknowledged that he could, and the General continued. "Excellent. We will need the Grand Hall at the new headquarters for dining and for the ball. Lieutenant, see to it that the kitchen provides the most excellent meal in abundance for this occasion – no expense must be spared! Helga – " the General directed his attention to the female Lance Corporal situated in the corner of the room – "I trust you can take care of the decorations and the invitations for the grand event. See to it that it is done. Remember, we only have 3 weeks to prepare, and the Fuhrer is travelling all the way from Berlin. Everything must go according to plan."

Gruber, Helga and Von Strohm nodded their understanding. "It shall be done, General," assured the Colonel.

"Excellent. That will be all for now. I will check in with you in precisely one week to make sure the preparations are on track. Heil Hitler." The General clicked his heels and saluted, and promptly left the room.

"Heil Hitler!" chorused the soldiers as he left.

Gruber exhaled a sigh of relief at the departure of the General. Finally, the dreadful meeting was over and done with. However, he was already worried; he knew exactly what these kinds of events meant, he knew exactly what would be expected of him.

"Will that be all, Colonel?" Gruber asked. "If it is acceptable, I would quite like to take my leave now."

Von Strohm glanced at Helga, then back at Gruber, and nodded. "Very well Gruber, you are excused. Do not neglect your duties."

"I will not," Gruber assured him. "Heil Hitler." And with that, he turned and swiftly took his leave.

"What was all that about, Colonel?" asked Helga. "He seemed to be in an awful hurry…"

"My dear Helga, I haven't the foggiest. No one knows quite exactly what goes on in the mind of Lieutenant Hubert Gruber."

Gruber took the last gulp of his cognac and sighed heavily. He dreaded these sorts of events, for more reasons than one. First of all, he was not a confident, abrasive sort of a man; the idea that he would have to greet Hitler himself directly shot his nerves to pieces and sent his stomach dropping to a new low he had never felt before. Secondly, he would have to be on the lookout all night to make sure that everything was to the pleasure of the Fuhrer, under threat of being shot if not all went to plan. Surprisingly enough however, neither of these things worried Gruber as much as his final concern.

He would have to spend the evening in the close company of a woman. He would have to dance with her, and attend to her, and make out like he was enjoying himself doing so. It is no secret to anyone in the village that Gruber does not make use of the services of Rene's waitress girls as the other soldiers did; but yet he still endeavoured to keep his greatest secret safe with him. And this could all be compromised if his mannerisms slipped up on the night of the grand ball.

Gruber sunk his head into his hands. What on earth was he to do now?