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The next installment of Sheila’s German encounter is below. Things are heating up and she is being scared and threatened. The incidents become more frightening and happen more often. What has she done to deserve this?
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Dirty English Pigs!
On Thursday, I drove to work, dropping Les off on the way. It was an unusually muggy morning, with thunder rumbling in the distance. The clouds hung low in the sky. It wasn’t raining but the air felt damp. It was one of those mornings when you felt like you wanted to stay in the shower because the minute you got out you felt grimy again. The roads were slippery with the rain so I had to be careful, especially when crossing the tram lines. I could feel a headache coming on too. Not the best start to the day. I drove along the ‘hellweg’ wishing I had taken the day off work, I just felt ‘out of it’. When I arrived at work I was greeted by the Military Police. After the drama of the last two days, I imagined the worst, a murder or something! The MP’s asked for my ID as I drove onto camp and as I parked up, I could see more Military Police around my yellow van. I wandered across to see what was going on. It looked like a crime scene as there were so many Military Police. Sophie, my boss came bustling across to me.
“Oh dear me, what a mess, no driving for you today, you can help in the restaurant instead, look what they did!”
My van truly was a mess. It was covered with offensive graffiti about the British Army and the British in general. ‘Dirty English Pigs’ and ‘Army Bastards’ being the least offensive of them. Some of the phrases were in German too, and I was glad I didn’t understand them. There were a couple of swastikas sprayed on the side of the van, which I found very offensive. Someone was really upset. As we stood there one of the MP’s drove the van away. Sophie told me they were taking it to the REME to get it painted. I was familiar with the REME guys. I sometimes had minor repairs that needed to be done to the van, where I had broken a mirror, or scraped the paint. They would fix the van for me quickly and efficiently charging nothing more than a few beers or a bottle of ‘Asbach’. I wandered inside the building with Sophie. Her husband, who was a senior officer in the infantry, was waiting in her office. He gave her a hug and was making sure she was OK.
They were a funny pair. He was a really nice quiet unpretentious guy. She was loud and dramatic; in fact when she wasn’t with him you would not imagine her to be married at all, she seemed too independent. When she was at his side she was a kitten. I left them talking on the stairs and went into the bustling kitchen to see what I could do. I was about to start helping with the breakfasts when Sophie showed up again. She tossed a set of keys at me and said:
“Tea and coffee obviously won’t work today, but make some sandwiches and a tray of doughnuts and take my Volvo. You can get a lot in the back of that”.
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