Barbaria, I enjoyed your story very much. But unfortunately there is one historical inaccuracy. Conspirators against the Führer were not executed by the firing squad, but generally under the guillotine. They were not considered worth a bullet by the regime. But since you left the ending open, there is still a possibility for an unexpected twist,...
So, allow me please, to take this liberty.
Nothing happens!
What are they waiting for?
Footsteps approach.
"I forgot something! Strip!"
"What! Why?"
"Orders! Put out that smock! We are not going to shoot holes in a good piece of clothing, just for a traitor! Others could use it. There is a war going on, remember! We cannot afford to waste things simply like that. People get killed for manufacturing these goods!"
As ordered. I slowly unbutton the front of my striped prison smock. What is the point of doing otherwise? The dirty and threadbare fabric slides off my shoulders and down my arms, coming to rest at my elbows, collecting around my wrists, and baring my breasts to the cold morning air. My nipples are stiff and erect. I shiver and purse my lips expectantly.
"Ready! Aim!"
Again, I hear the noise of rifles being readied.
Nothing happens.
Footsteps approach.
"Just one more thing! I have to tie your hands to your back! Regulations!"
While he ties my hands on my back (standing so close that I can smell thr schnapps in his breath), I ask him:
"Are you sure that is all?"
"Just a minute, I will check my list! Firing squad? OK? Rifles? OK! Rifles loaded? OK! Prisoner? OK! Prisoner stripped? OK! Blindfold? OK! Hands tied to the prisoner's back? OK! Offered last cigarette? OK! Right! That's all by the book now!"
He went back.
"Ready! Aim!"
All I could do now was anticipate the 'feuer! command. Strange anticipation. I was all acceptance. In the dark enclosed world of my blindfold, I had absolutely nothing more to expect from life. Within seconds it would be over. But my whole mind felt quiet and relaxed. As if my mind had already switched off itself to the lowest level of stand-by.
But what are they waiting for now? I hear shuffling of feet? What is going on out there?
Footsteps approach.
A flash of light! They took off my blindfold!
"Überasschung! Surprise!"
I could not believe my eyes! There was no more firing squad! There were a lot of people! Smiling! Laughing! They had presents! Flowers! Cigarettes! Chocolates! A bottle of whisky! Ham and cheese! Silk stockings and sexy ladies underwear! All retreived, it appears, from shot down enemy bombers and their crews! These B-17 must be flying grocery shops (do they still have room for bombs anayway?).
As my eyes adapted to daylight, I recognized them! The Gestapo officers. My colleagues. And, oh no, Jodl and Keitel, the chiefs of staff! And there were Göring, Himmler and Bormann. And, oh my God, the Führer himself, with a giggling Eva Braun at his side!
Oh no, here I stood, all naked, hands tied on my back, with my feet in my own body fluids, with fear in my eyes. In front of the whole leadership of Nazi Germany. I wanted to run away, but I did not. Because it came up to me that apparently I would not die. They would not shoot me. I would live on! So, while life came back into my mind, I bothered less and less about my humiliating situation.
It became all clear to me. All that they did to me during the last days. The torture, the fake execution... It was all...
Just the Nazi way to celebrate secretaries' day.
