I’ve written little new of late. Be it posting blogs full of words penned long ago or dabbling in newborn fictional tales of this, that and the other, a uselessness prevails. A tarnished body and brain in unison tend to have that effect. Be it from quill to keyboard my storytelling is in limbo. So instead, I research, and as all writers of historical fiction will understand research is all. Most fact-finding, inevitably, is of a bland yet on occasion useful, bygone timeline of events, yet sometimes, just sometimes one stumbles upon a golden nugget in the form of an eye witness account from days of yore.

Herewith the translated words of one Franz Mawick, a humble man working with the Swiss ‘Red Cross’ mission as a driver speaking of an event that unfolded before his eyes in Nazi occupied Warsaw back in 1942. His account relates to the seizing of young Polish women to be used as sex slaves within Nazi military brothels.

“Uniformed Germans gaze fixedly at women and girls between the ages of 15 and 25
One of the soldiers pulls out a pocket flashlight and shines it on one of the women
Straight into her eyes
Two women turn their pale faces to us, expressing weariness and resignation
The first one is about 30 years old
‘What is this old whore looking for around here?’
One of the three soldiers laughs
‘Bread, sir’, asks the woman
‘A kick in the ass you get, not bread’, answers the soldier
The owner of the flashlight directs the light again on the faces and bodies of girls
The youngest is maybe 15 years old
They open her coat and start groping her with their lustful paws
‘This one is ideal for bed’ he says”

Were it the case that I could travel back in time, were it also not the case a prayer is nought but an impossible wish in disguise I would see to it that that Nazi soldier spoken of here died a brutal death. In fiction I can, and often do, get away with murder. In reality the truth can rip a heart in two.

28 thoughts on “‘BREAD SIR’ ASKS THE WOMAN

    1. Bread, Ms S. An interesting point you raise. Coincidentally, this very morn Shirl and I took a walk around the block. The sun was out, the wind had dropped, hardly a living soul to be seen. However, for the first time since we moved here 4-5 years ago we visited the corner shop run by a thoroughly pleasant Indian chap and his charming daughter, both donning face masks. They had bread! Admittedly vile English in a plastic bag bread, but bread, wholemeal as well, was purchased. The remarkable thing, when asked if he had toilet rolls…we’re running a tad low on those…he advised that sadly not, however he had acquired a number of those massive rolls of loo paper that restaurants and pubs would use. At £1 a go I thought ‘yes’ that will do fine. Not that I had even considered buying more than one roll he over politely asked, “I would be grateful Sir if you only buy just one roll, I keep the rest for the old folk who cannot make it into town.” What a fine chap. Flattered that he didn’t include me in the ‘old folk’ category…perhaps his eyesight wasn’t that good…I suggested that next time we visit his store not to call me ‘Sir’ unless in jest and further added that he has a new customer he will keep well after the crisis is over. There we have it, an officer and a gentleman running a family business, caring for others.

  1. Saturday the mr went down to the Ferry and got vino in the wee Tesco metros and flour in the love your planet shop. We have a lot of wee indie fresh food shops here. Did quite well in the carnage in various supermarkets on Thursday. Even got loo rolls 12 pack after seeing a guy wheel out of Iceland with a pack on top of his trolley. Telling you had to restrain myself from haring in there …did not want to attract attention!! This biz of being allowed to get 4 of any one item is ridic when that can be 4 x 24 loo roll packs. Don’t take long for that tae run oot on ashelf the size of these packs. Also these wee shops often go to the cash and carry every day.

  2. That is heart-wrenching! Funny, I’ve been thinking lately with the virus lockdown, I’m hopeful that the sex traffickers are losing business and that they may catch the virus and die so their slaves can break away free.

    1. I couldn’t agree more. Sex is a wonderful, nonsensical thing, why on earth abuse it. I’ve never understood the weird factor in a DNA that would have it otherwise in a world with so much violence and hatred of vastly more important ‘things’ that need to be cured.

  3. G’day Mr. Steeden.

    It’s been a week or two since I last had a quick shufti at your WP page, and having chanced across your name on an old MH post, I thought “A ha! That old git! I shall look him up”

    I’m mighty pleased I did, as it happens. How the hell are you?

    1. A rave from the grave, no less! Aside the theft of my European identity at the hands of fuckwits and racists along with the stark fact that when the wind blows I’ve a tendency to stumble, all is well. Imprisoned of choice in the war without bombs I contemplate test matches on hold and absent toilet rolls. The missus avidly collects newspapers ‘just in case’, notwithstanding the days of outside ‘toilettes’…as my French chums might name them…are long past. I trust all is well your end.

      1. All fine and dandy here, thank you, sir; especially at my end.

        I am in full agreement with you re: the breaded ‘B’ word. some things are too important to trust to the public, especially when they are being led by the nose by such a bunch of lying, conniving bastards as we have in ‘high places’.

        On the subject of virus-related inconvenience – Initially, I was somewhat chuffed about the lack of football, but then the awful truth dawned that the cricket season would be affected. Hells teeth, man! This is suddenly serious. What’s a chap to do without cricket?

        I know a couple of people who have had this bloody virus, and for them at least it was a thoroughly unpleasant experience, so I shall be doing my damndest to avoid it. Unlike most of the armchair specialists that I appear to have met recently, I am not an epidemiologist, and freely admit to knowing two thirds of the square root of sweet FA about such matters. On that basis, I shall be following advice from those in the know, who all appear to taking it raher seriously.

        Look after you ‘n’ yours mate.


    1. Too true, Liz. The male of the species can be the cruelest creatures. I’ve long since advocated you gals should lead nations and make the laws simply because the lessons of history indicate us chaps have made a rotten job, My thanks ~ The Old Fool

  4. It’s horrible to realize that there are always going to be people just that awful in this world. I enjoy your writing very much. The next to the last line, right here ” In fiction I can, and often do, get away with murder.” – tears rose in my eyes and my mind cheered you! Get those filthy bastards!

    1. My thanks, Michelle. Funnily enough I’ve been penning a new book…trying to, at least. ‘Tis all about a WW2 diamond gal who dishes out due punishment to those sick males who offend the unwritten moral code. It was in researching such offenders in ‘real’ life I stumbled upon this tale of helplessness. Like you, I shed a tear. Best regards, The Old Fool

      1. Sorry for the delay. I’ve had a few mind-numbing things to do. ‘Tis very kind of you to offer Ms Michelle Rene. The truth is young Rachel is both my best mate and favourite artist to boot. Please don’t think me rude though. I wish you well at all times. Regards, The Old Fool

  5. I knew why you wrote The Blue-Eyed Cat before 1926. This post confirms it.
    Anyway… about 3/4 read. We are in an unusual situation, and I spend some of my reading time now sanitizing and disinfecting.
    I live in an area of Toronto where there are a lot of homeless coughing in the street, sharing butts and bottles.
    I walked 4 blocks to a store (face mask I designed and made, surgical gloves and hand sanitizer at my hilt).
    I walked around the rummies, to at least an 8 ft. distance. I got home over 3 hours ago, and have just finished cleaning, washing all clothes I was wearing, disinfecting ALL packaging, taking a shower, fresh clothes and about 10 hand washings.
    Now, time to start dinner!

    1. These are indeed unique times, young Resa. From what you have written you are well and truly on the case. I trust you are proud of yourself…you should be. Were the ‘rest’ to copy you this whole wretched thing would be controllable. I have taken the easy route and locked myself away…even though I still overly wash the hands to the extent my fingers have dried out, some even fallen off. Such is life. This post, by the way, albeit revealing similar research to that of The Blue-Eyed Cat, was for a new book that will likely birth prematurely…an effect of sitting indoors day after day at the PC thus avoiding the virus. I’ve just renamed this new tome ‘Frenchie’. It has no time travel though, for this tale of WW2 espionage I’m given my unnamed albino assassin another outing…she was, after all, the main character in an earlier book I’d penned. She has a heart of gold yet tends to kill nasty chaps who deserve a horrible death. Keep up the good work, young Resa. Regards, TOF

  6. The inhumanity of man knows no depths – I am certain that the Nazi pattern is one oft repeated over the ensuing 80 years, and by all sides. It is the ‘winners’ who write history, and how they like to cover their own atrocities. One day, perhaps…

    1. There you have it in a nutshell, Sir. ‘It is the ‘winners’ who write history’. I believe that stark fact was why I was so touched to find the words of the common man simply spelling out what he had seen.

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