Veronika continued her story…
"After I left that day, I drove on until it was night and I had forgotten to get petrol in my frightful departure from home. When I ran out, I left the car and started walking down the road towards a darkened farmhouse that I saw in the headlights ahead. Suddenly, five Russians surrounded me. Apparently, an undercover advance reconnaissance team like my husband's.
"They came upon me so quickly, I couldn't run, but I knew who they were immediately because I heard them speaking Russian. They grabbed me and dragged me into the farmhouse. There was no one there. As they ransacked the place for liquor, food and money they kept eyeing me with more and more lust. One of them came over to me and pulled my coat off, threw it aside, and began tearing away my clothes, ripping them off. I dared not resist.
"The others watched while he tore my clothes off and raped me. I knew it would be better not to struggle and hurt my baby, so I didn't. And then, each one took a turn. They knew I was pregnant from my bulging belly, but didn't seem to care.
"They got more and more violent, demanding that I tell them where I was from and where I was going and other things as they accused me of everything kind of low behavior like I was some kind of prostitute.
"And then, they began to suspect that I was a spy or courier and began cutting on me. Asking questions I couldn't answer because I didn't know. With each cut I screamed in pain and blood ran. I kept imagining what it was doing to my baby to hear it. Finally, I saw the leader and the one who first raped stand between my legs and violently kick me. Unconsciousness took over and I don't remember anything else after that."
"That was terrible!" I whispered as she leaned into me for comfort, sobbing and I had to stop recording. "How? How could you still be alive and here? Are you some kind of ghost? Am I dreaming?"
"They left quickly and left me bleeding unconscious on the floor. Right after they left, the farming couple and their son came out of the woods nearby and back into the house. When they found me and found me still alive, the son happened to be a medic.
"They washed my wounds and wrapped my body tightly in sheets to stop the bleeding. They found my car, added petrol and drove me to the nearby hospital where the young man worked. The father and son had my blood type and donated blood for me on the spot.
"The Russians soon commandeered the hospital. Some of the Russian soldiers even gave me blood. I woke up there about two days after I arrived to great pain from all of the cuts that were healing and a tremendous need to urinate but couldn't.
"Miraculously, I could feel my son still kicking inside me. The unbearable kidney pain of being unable to urinate caused me to go unconscious again.
"My pelvis bone was broken. My urethra was so damaged and covered with scar tissue they had to surgically run a plastic tube to my urethra below my bladder to drain my urine with the tube exiting above my groin muscle on my right side. The baby and I were sustained only by intravenous and liquid soups for the first week as I gained strength."
I listened and recorded in rapt attention while she continued.
"And then, one night, I started having labor pains. The wounds and my broken pelvis would not allow a normal birth even though I was dilating under great pain. They moved me into the operating room again and did a cesarean section. My boy came out kicking and yelling like a warrior but died within a few minutes because he was too early and malnourished. I cried a long time after that until my eyes dried from all that crying.
"As I lay there, I healed, and gradually, I started to get up, sit in a chair or walk the halls gaining strength, I began thinking of my future. My husband had wanted me to leave the country until it was safe. And I decided that's what I would do. I didn't let the hospital staff or our captors know what I was thinking. It was obvious that I wouldn't get care for my scars in that hospital. Or my broken pelvis corrected, now healing in place.
"Yesterday, there was a lot of fighting we could hear in the streets. Most of the hospital staff left to be with their families. Knowing that I could walk okay with a limp, but couldn't run, I wanted to leave, too.
"My coat was in the closet but no other clothes. I shed my hospital gown, grabbed a hospital bag to put some, the things in, put on the coat and I left the hospital. I caught a ride to Kherson with some jubilant people so happy to be liberated.
"They dropped me off a short walk to where the train station was, so I limped this morning. When I got here, I approached several men to help me get on the train and out of the city, but they were all shocked when I showed them how I am. None of them would help me. And then, I heard the sirens that warned of the shelling and I came here.
"That's my story until tonight talking to you. I need to move on, go west, find a new man and heal like my husband would want me to. That's why I'm here, to find a man who will help me and continue my story."
"You are so beautiful and your story is so engaging, I'm sure you will."
Suddenly, she looked me straight in the eye, not five inches away so that I could feel her breath on my face, and asked, "What about you? Are you married?"
I was dumbfounded, so attracted to her, trying to remain professional. I stammered, "No…never…have been. I got the urge to travel and be a reporter in college. I know I'm not handsome. I never was an athlete and don't have a very good physique. When I began traveling the world to report, I was always moving and never met anyone who wanted me enough for me to settle down. I hate to admit it, but I've never had sex with a woman."
"But you're kind. I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice. You have a good profession. You could provide for me. That's all you have to do. Accept a damaged woman like me. It's really not so bad. You would be kind and loving, not like those awful Russian bastards. We can go to a hotel or to the train. It doesn't matter to me. I want to reward you for listening to and recording my story. Not being horrified by my scars."
"The hotel is out of the question. I'm on assignment. But I can arrange a train ticket for you to get to Berlin at the address of a friend of mine where I stay when my assignments are in Europe.
"His name is Klaus Bumgardner. I will write down his address and telephone number and tell him to pick you up when you arrive. He will look after you until my eight day mission here is over and I arrive back in Berlin next week.
"Once I get there, I can line up some top plastic and reconstructive bone surgeons to see if you can be helped and have your urethra restored. I expect the cost will be great, but I have gathered quite a large retirement fund that I can borrow from to help pay for having it done.
"You know that I am 48 and you are half my age, don't you, Veronika?"
"I know you are. But I don't really trust young or even handsome men, anymore. Even though I haven't been with any men other than my husband, I've known others. You are kind and generous. That's all I need. Already, I want to have your child."
She shocked me with that. But, before I could object, she suddenly interrupted our long conversation. "I have to pee and I have to right now! Let's get out of here, too many people around."
Even though the all clear had not been announced, the shelling had stopped and we headed for the nearby train station. She led me around the side of the station to an alley, out of sight of the deserted street and told me, "I will pee here."
Veronika pulled back her coat from her right hip and leaning that way against the wall with me holding her up. She removed a plastic cap from the five inches of tubing protruding from her side.
She peed a stream of urine onto the wall. She seemed to have held it a long time because it took a while to empty her bladder and she nearly collapsed after from the exertion doing it. I held her tight to keep her from falling over.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Veronika straightened up and kissed me. Leaning in close, she took my right hand and brought it up over both of her breasts under her coat, asking me, "How do they feel?"
Embarrassed, I told her, "It's amazing. I can feel the scars, but underneath you are both hard and soft. Lovely to touch." I found myself saying. I couldn't believe it!
As she moved my hand down her belly to between her legs, I told her, stuttering, "Your… scars… can be removed…. I… find… your vulva both strong and soft at the same time. I… have… never felt anything like it before!" I was near speechless with emotion.
Veronika nearly swooned in my arms with those words. She slipped her hand under my belt and under the band of my shorts to briefly feel my growing erection before retreating and kissing me again, more deeply than before. I was already in love with this amazing woman and she knew it. We straightened up and I escorted her inside the station. The all clear was on and people were gathering on the streets again.
I bought her some coffee and a meal for the trip. She was very hungry and ate heartily. Also, assured me that she could pee in the toilet on the train on her way to Berlin without anyone else's help.
I bought her a ticket for a private roomette. And then, I got some Western Union cash and gave that to her for what she needed along the way. Since she only had that coat to cover her and no other clothes in her hospital bag, I made sure she could take it off and wouldn't get too hot having to wear that coat among others on her long journey. I would buy her clothes that she could feel comfortable wearing with her scars in Berlin.
When Veronika's train arrived, before she got on, I kissed her like I was already her husband and wished her luck on the journey. I was worried about seeing her go alone, but knowing she would be safe if the Russians mounted another offensive and retook the region.
I needed to get her out of Kherson and to the West because I knew that things were very volatile and the Russian plan was unclear except they continued to send rockets, bomb with planes and drones, and shell cities even while retreating from previously held territories. Veronika had to find someplace safe and I was willing to help her get there.
The next day, I filed her story with CWN with careful cutting of the video I sent to comply with broadcast standards regarding nudity and words. My superiors were pleased with what I sent them.
Fortunately, nothing more happened except continued Ukrainian success recovering territory that the Russians had overrun. During the seven days that followed, I continued recording peoples’ stories like Veronika's from many who had gone through terrible torture and mistreatment during the brief, terrible Russian occupation.
Most people I interviewed were elated that the Ukraine Army was able to come back and rescue them. They all told me that they had allegiance to Ukraine all along but had to pretend to be loyal to the Russians just to save their lives.
Everywhere I went, the streets were filled with joy and I videoed with my smart pad some of the residents lavishly kissing and hugging Ukrainian liberators whenever they came into view. It was hard for those soldiers to go about their business with so much adulation.
Seven days later, when I returned to Berlin after my assignment, I arrived at Klaus’s suite and my room to find Veronika greeting me in a light robe and a glass of wine. Apparently, he had helped her acquire it along with some other clothes for going out in public.
She was already filling out from his food. Veronika was so happy to see me she almost smothered me with hugs and kisses. I set about lining her up with reconstructive and plastic surgery appointments with the finest surgeons in town.
*****
It's three years later. We were married in Berlin and Veronika loves our loft in the Bronx. Almost immediately, she got a job in a Manhattan travel agency where she is already valued for her languages and her lovely approach to customers.
They allow our one-year-old, Eric Brooks, to come and stay at the agency with his mama all day. We thought for a moment to name him Robert, but having one Bobby Brooks in the family was enough teasing.
Based on my earnings and savings, I plan to retire when I'm 55 and then go back with Veronika and Eric to all the countries where I've made friends over the years and see how everyone is doing… Much better, I think.
And, after a lot more travel, I will write more of my memoirs of all the interesting people I've met and worked with through all those years in all those countries. Trying to bring what was happening to life and the world's attention as best I can.
Copyright 2022 © Ronald W. Hull
12/2/22
