Manfred Pfirsich Marie Rommel, near to tears, was lost. He was only 17 years old and he
was alone and frightened. He had been at the Front about a week and so far he understood
nothing. He missed the comforting security of his home in Ulm and his Mama, but he knew
what was expected of him. He had been 14 when the war started, and no-one had known that
it would go on for so long that he would have to fight in it, most people had confidently
expected an easy victory for the Kaiser's army.
No-one had time to explain anything, told to take a message to
headquarters he had done his best, but he was now completely confused. The instructions he
had received meant nothing, less so when he was trying to find his way through mud and
filth. He swallowed tears, fiercely aware of what his big brother Erwin would think if he
saw them, forgetting that Erwin wasn't even in France. He comforted himself with the
thought of Erwin, a sturdy Lieutenant already making a name for himself. He backed slowly
along the smelly trench, hoping that he was heading in the right direction.
He suddenly became aware that he had backed into someone, a person who
gave an inarticulate yell. It could have been anyone, the uniform was none-too-clean, but
whoever he was he said, "Jesus Christ!"
'Oh God', thought Pfirsich, 'English. You've been in the Kaiser's army one
week, and you're captured by the English. What is Erwin going to say?'
With a sigh the Englishman produced a gun. "Can I remember what to do
with prisoners?" he asked, as though to himself.
"Report me to HQ?" suggested Pfirsich, nervous but helpful.
"When I want your help I'll ask for it. Just my luck, I capture a
prisoner and he turns out to be a know-it-all. This way."
Pfirsich was shown to a sort of office with beds round the walls. To his
surprise rather than telephoning HQ his captor sat down on a bed, and lay back, one hand
behind his head. "Sit down," he suggested. "What's your name?"
Pfirsich's English deserted him. "Ich heiße Manfred Pfirsich Marie
Rommel. Ich bin Fähnrich."
"Edmund Blackadder, Captain. Do sit down."
Pfirsich looked round and eventually chose a box, one which looked as
though it would support his weight.
"So you're German?"
"Er...jahwohl, Captain Blackadder."
"You had better give me your gun," Blackadder sighed.
Embarrassed, Pfirsich realised it had simply never occurred to him to use
his gun, or even to draw it. Reluctantly he handed the weapon over, and Blackadder went
on, "I can't help feeling that this is a terrible mistake. In fact this could be the
biggest mistake since General Haig was put in charge of a war instead of a whelk
"Captain Blackadder?" Pfirsich spoke English, but he didn't
"What you don't understand is that capturing an unexpected prisoner
means forms until doomsday. Tell me, Rommel, are the men really stupid on your side as
Pfirsich didn't know what to say in response that either, he looked down
at the toes of his boots and wondered what would happen next.
Captain Blackadder continued to talk, "I'd offer you something to eat
but I'm afraid it would poison you. It poisons me. Unless you want rat-au-vin of
Pfirsich really had thought he understood English, he had spent long
enough studying it, but maybe he had been wrong. It looked as if he was.
"Look, I don't want a German prisoner..."
Pfirsich sighed with relief.
"Don't look like that. Tomorrow morning, I'll take you back to the
place we met, and you can rejoin the Hun lines."
"Hun?" Pfirsich asked.
"German. Your lot."
"Oh. Danke, Captain Blackadder"
"You're welcome. Which is more of a welcome than your lot offered
"Never mind. Incidentally, do you know how blue your eyes are?"
"Captain Blackadder?" Pfirsich blinked. No-one had ever
"I think we can dispense with the parrot impersonation, though. Do
take your coat off, we're not freezing, for once."
Rather uncertainly, Pfirsich did as Blackadder had suggested; he was
rather warm, he had to admit. Blackadder smiled at him, and Pfirsich looked down, suddenly
"How much more are you wearing?" demanded Blackadder. "Just
how cold is it in the Hun trenches?"
"It's not too bad," protested Pfirsich, weakly.
"Which explains why you're wrapped up like a mummy. There are few
times when I'm pleased to be British, but this is one of them. And don't say: 'Captain
"Very well. What would you prefer that I say?"
"How about Blackadder? And don't look at me like that!"
"Like what?" Pfirsich didn't think he was looking like anything
"Never mind. Something to drink?"
"Oh, don't be heroic for God's sake. Brandy?"
"Now," said Blackadder, "we can either use English or
German, swapping from one to the other gives me a headache. English?"
"Yes, if you wish."
"Tell, me where are you from? I'm not interested, but it's something
"I am from Ulm, in Baden-Württemberg." Again Pfirsich was
"How interesting. Would you like to take your jacket off?"
Pfirsich shrugged and slipped it back over his shoulders.
"Nice shirt," Blackadder said.
Blackadder poured brandy into glasses, and handed one to Pfirsich.
Pfirsich had never drunk spirits before, and he sipped slowly, trying for a suitable
appreciation. He saw that Blackadder was doing the same, but he looked as if he was
enjoying it. They drank in silence for a while.
"Come here," Blackadder invited, softly.
Pfirsich thought for a moment then moved to sit beside Blackadder on the
bed; there simply seemed no reason why he should not. Pfirsich continued to sip his drink.
He saw Blackadder watching, dark eyes on him, curiously fascinated. Pfirsich said,
"You say my eyes are very...blue."
"Yes," Blackadder smiled. He held one arm out and Pfirsich
accepted the offer wordlessly. In his mind his excuse to his older brother was ready, 'I
was young and frightened...' Blackadder pulled him close. Pfirsich comforted himself with
the thought that it was unlikely that Erwin would ask.
Pfirsich closed his eyes and rested for a moment against the comforting
warmth. A soft feeling on his lips made him open his eyes again, but Blackadder smiled and
the kiss was repeated. Nervous, he looked round. Blackadder said, "They've gone. They
won't be back at least until tomorrow."
"Oh," Pfirsich smiled.
"If you wish." They pressed closer, Pfirsich felt Blackadder
remove jacket and shirt, and cover them both with rough blankets. He wondered what he
should do about his boots but Blackadder was ready enough to help, amused dark eyes were
on him still. After they had been removed he felt happier for some reason, and he pressed
back against Blackadder.
Blackadder rolled him onto his back, his kisses still tasted of the sweet
French brandy but Pfirsich relaxed completely. He did not entirely know what he wanted but
he knew that there was something just beyond his reach, and trusted that Blackadder would
reach it for him.
The sweet kisses took over Pfirsich's mind, he had no idea where he was,
or when. Blackadder stripped him, thoroughly and carefully. Feeling Blackadder against him
he could hardly think, all he could feel was the soft/hard flesh of a man, and it seemed
to him like a prayer answered.
"Oh!" Pfirsich heard Blackadder cry out. "So soft, so
young." Lips made contact with his nipples, his whole body contracted with a want he
now knew as lust. Involuntarily he spread his legs, exposing himself completely, and he
heard Blackadder's appreciation, a wordless groan of answer.
He felt a man's fingers within him, they felt - greasy - he wondered
vaguely what Blackadder was using to open him, but decided it didn't matter. This was
something he had wanted for as long as he could recall, without quite knowing what it was.
"Lovely," he heard Blackadder say, softly.
"What happens now?" Pfirsich asked.
"The best," Blackadder replied, seriously. "I want
"Do it. Do what you want." It had taken a moment for Pfirsich to
translate the sentiment from a gut feeling to language and then from German to English.
It was worth it, Blackadder smiled at him his black eyes laughing. "I
hope you're ready," he said.
Pfirsich didn't entirely know what was happening, Blackadder pushed his
manhood inside Pfirsich, deep inside him, and Pfirsich pressed back. It hurt, a little,
but it was a hurt Pfirsich wanted, a soul-deep need that almost seared him. He spread
further, wanting, needing something that he had not the words for, not in any language. He
knew only that he needed and trusted that his need would be fulfilled.
Blackadder covered his mouth, within his sex made Pfirsich feel complete
as if only a man could fulfil him and he exulted in it. He screamed, the physical
completion he achieved meaning more to him than anything at that moment.
"God, you're lovely," Blackadder said, when he could speak.
"I've always wanted to get stuck into the boche." Pfirsich scowled at him.
"No need to sulk, my dear. You're just a human being, though a very lovely one."
He kissed Pfirsich again, his tongue exploring Pfirsich's mouth, and he felt the tip
softly spread along his upper lip.
Pfirsich groaned aloud, unable to help himself. He did not want Blackadder
to penetrate him again, not at once, but the anticipation, the knowing that it would
happen soon - before very long - excited him beyond endurance.
Every step he took Pfirsich remembered something, a touch, a kiss, the way
Blackadder had felt inside him. His message was late but he couldn't care; he had known a
man and that face, those feelings would stay with him forever. He was breathless with the
memory but unable to confide it to anyone.
Capture had been so close, but he had eluded it - or it had been eluded
for him. Blackadder told him that death faced him, faced all of them, and Pfirsich would
always wonder what had happened, suspecting that death had found his first lover as it had
so many. Blackadder had been betrayed by his leaders, and knew betrayal while it was
happening. He had been cynical and bitter and he knew that he was. Pfirsich knew he would
never forget that self-mocking look Blackadder had at their last kiss on the stinking
Tommy side of the trenches. The lust, the love, he had found with Blackadder was gone as
suddenly as it had come, and he would search for it until the middle of another war, where
it would find him as unexpectedly.