unreal against the harsh background of war. For others it might have been better if they had stayed with the ship, men who eventually returned from leave with the feeling they had lost everything.
Amongst those who remained aboard there was one who, after a quick visit to a dockside telephone, made the most of each day and night in Vejle.
Korvettenkapitan Josef Gudegast, the cruiser's navigating officer, not only knew the ways of the sea and the landmarks which he had used in peace and wartime, he also hoarded a comfortable knowledge of harbours and what they could offer. When he had earned his living in timber ships he had often visited Danish ports, and Vejle was one of his favourite places for a run ashore.
On the last day but one of his leave he sat in a big chair, his reddened face tight with concentration as he completed a charcoal sketch of the woman who lounged opposite him, on a couch, her naked body pale in the lamplight.
The small house was quiet, more so because of the shutters and dark curtains across the windows. The place had always been his haven, stocked with food and drink, some of which he had carried with him from the ship to which he returned every morning, keeping an eye on his department and the work done by his assistants.
The room was very hot, and he sat in his shirtsleeves, his jacket with its three tarnished gold stripes hanging carelessly from the door, a reminder, if he needed it, that his time of freedom was almost over.
'There.' He sat back and eyed his work critically. 'Not bad.'
She got up and stood beside him, one arm around his massive shoulder. He could feel her body against his, her warmth and the affection which they had shared with passion and quiet desperation in turn. Soon they would lie together again and later they would sleep, wrapped around one another like young lovers.
Gudegast was forty, and felt every year of it. He tugged at his ragged beard and murmured, 'You're still a bloody fine woman, Cerda.' He gave her a squeeze. 'I've never forgotten you.'
She touched his hair. It was getting very thin, and without his uniform cap he looked his age, she thought. She could remember him as the bright-eyed mate of a visiting ship, the way that they had hit it off from the start.
She said, 'Get away with you. I'm sagging everywhere.' She peered at the picture. You've made me look nice.'
He covered it with some paper and said abruptly, 'It's yours.'
She stared at him. 'But you've never given -'
Gudegast stood up and glanced towards the bedroom door. 'I'll be off soon. Something to remind you of old Josef, eh?'
She gripped his arm, disturbed by his mood. 'It'll be all right, won't it?'
‘All right?' He took his pipe from the mantelpiece and filled it with slow deliberation. It gave him time.
He was surprised that he cared that much. At the same time he did not want to alarm her.
He said slowly, 'No, I don't think it will, as a matter of fact.'
She sat on the couch and dragged a shawl over her naked shoulders.
Gudegast added, 'Did you see the way they buggered us about in the cafe this afternoon?'
She replied uneasily, 'They said they were full up.'
He frowned. 'Said.' He lit his pipe and took several deep puffs. Little bastards. I had to put my foot down.'
She watched him and smiled. 'You got us a lovely table.'
'Not the point.' Puff, puff. They're more scared of the bloody Resistance now than they are of us, don't you see?' He studied her full mouth and barely covered breasts. She had been such a pretty girl. He should have married her, instead - he turned his mind away from his wife in Hamburg. It was all a mess. Like the bloody war.
He tried again. 'What will you do, Gerda, when it's all over?'
I - I shall be here
He moved to her side and ruffled her hair. 'We're losing. Can't you face it either?'
'You mustn't say things like that, Jo! If anyone heard you -'
He grinned, his whole face crinkling. Christ, you care, don't you?'
'You know I do.'
All these
Amongst those who remained aboard there was one who, after a quick visit to a dockside telephone, made the most of each day and night in Vejle.
Korvettenkapitan Josef Gudegast, the cruiser's navigating officer, not only knew the ways of the sea and the landmarks which he had used in peace and wartime, he also hoarded a comfortable knowledge of harbours and what they could offer. When he had earned his living in timber ships he had often visited Danish ports, and Vejle was one of his favourite places for a run ashore.
On the last day but one of his leave he sat in a big chair, his reddened face tight with concentration as he completed a charcoal sketch of the woman who lounged opposite him, on a couch, her naked body pale in the lamplight.
The small house was quiet, more so because of the shutters and dark curtains across the windows. The place had always been his haven, stocked with food and drink, some of which he had carried with him from the ship to which he returned every morning, keeping an eye on his department and the work done by his assistants.
The room was very hot, and he sat in his shirtsleeves, his jacket with its three tarnished gold stripes hanging carelessly from the door, a reminder, if he needed it, that his time of freedom was almost over.
'There.' He sat back and eyed his work critically. 'Not bad.'
She got up and stood beside him, one arm around his massive shoulder. He could feel her body against his, her warmth and the affection which they had shared with passion and quiet desperation in turn. Soon they would lie together again and later they would sleep, wrapped around one another like young lovers.
Gudegast was forty, and felt every year of it. He tugged at his ragged beard and murmured, 'You're still a bloody fine woman, Cerda.' He gave her a squeeze. 'I've never forgotten you.'
She touched his hair. It was getting very thin, and without his uniform cap he looked his age, she thought. She could remember him as the bright-eyed mate of a visiting ship, the way that they had hit it off from the start.
She said, 'Get away with you. I'm sagging everywhere.' She peered at the picture. You've made me look nice.'
He covered it with some paper and said abruptly, 'It's yours.'
She stared at him. 'But you've never given -'
Gudegast stood up and glanced towards the bedroom door. 'I'll be off soon. Something to remind you of old Josef, eh?'
She gripped his arm, disturbed by his mood. 'It'll be all right, won't it?'
‘All right?' He took his pipe from the mantelpiece and filled it with slow deliberation. It gave him time.
He was surprised that he cared that much. At the same time he did not want to alarm her.
He said slowly, 'No, I don't think it will, as a matter of fact.'
She sat on the couch and dragged a shawl over her naked shoulders.
Gudegast added, 'Did you see the way they buggered us about in the cafe this afternoon?'
She replied uneasily, 'They said they were full up.'
He frowned. 'Said.' He lit his pipe and took several deep puffs. Little bastards. I had to put my foot down.'
She watched him and smiled. 'You got us a lovely table.'
'Not the point.' Puff, puff. They're more scared of the bloody Resistance now than they are of us, don't you see?' He studied her full mouth and barely covered breasts. She had been such a pretty girl. He should have married her, instead - he turned his mind away from his wife in Hamburg. It was all a mess. Like the bloody war.
He tried again. 'What will you do, Gerda, when it's all over?'
I - I shall be here
He moved to her side and ruffled her hair. 'We're losing. Can't you face it either?'
'You mustn't say things like that, Jo! If anyone heard you -'
He grinned, his whole face crinkling. Christ, you care, don't you?'
'You know I do.'
All these
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