Untitled War Story I

I wrote this story based on one of the few stories my grandfather would tell about WWII. He was in Germany at the very end of the war, so I tried to add a bit of German. It comes straight from Google Translate so I can't vouch for its accuracy (and would go so far as to say, it's probably wrong). If you actually know German, and what I have written sounds stupid, please feel free to correct it.

Untitled War Story I

They approached the farm house from the west and knocked on the door. John shielded his eyes from the rays of sunlight piercing into his eyes and inhaled as they waited. The odor that had tickled their noses on the walk up the mountain had grown stronger. “What is that smell?” he wandered to himself.

A moment later the door opened. “Ja?” a short, stout woman answered. Her faded red shirt and patched skirt were dappled with dust, broadcasting they had caught her during morning chores. Pieces of gray-brown escaped from the yellow cloth which encased the bulk of her hair. Her eyes darted between the men suspiciously. She held a broom tightly in her hand, and John fought the urge to step back out of its reach.  

“Um, ehem,” the translator fumbled for words, “Grüße Fräuline, wir sind mit der U.S. Army. Wir müssen ihrem haus nach waffen zu suchen.”

The woman looked consternated. John’s confidence in the translator began to waiver. The translator repeated himself. Finally with narrowed eyes, she snipped, “Ja, aber nicht mit a käse durcheinander.”

The translator cocked an eyebrow. John stifled his annoyance, “What did she say?” The translator turned and said, “She says not to disturb her cheese, sir.”

“What?”

“She says…”

“Yes, yes, I heard what she said. What does she mean?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

John faced the woman, who still blocked the doorway, but spoke to his translator. “Tell her we need to come in now.” The translator spoke; the woman continued to stare, unmoving. John was unsure if she had understood the translator until finally, the woman acquiesced and shuffled out of the doorway.

John stepped inside and halted. He felt a thud and was thrust forward slightly as his men ran into each other behind him. He had never seen such a sight. He now knew the origin of the strange smell and the meaning behind the woman’s enigmatic statement.

Cheese. It was everywhere. White cakes buried chairs and Limberger bricks created barriers around the bed. Only a small corner of the table remained free from the dairy imprisoning the rest of the surface. John glanced up and saw the rafters decorated with blocks of cheese.

“Uh, sir?” an incredulous voice come from behind John, “what do you want us to do?”

John swallowed his emotions, not taking the time to determine if it was laughter or tears he was suppressing. “Search for weapons,” he kept his voice as level as he could.

“Yes, sir. How, sir?”

“Move the cheese.”

“All of it, sir?”

“Yes. The whole house.”

John saw the man’s jaw clench as he struggled to keep his composure. The mounds of cheese were a daunting sight and would at least triple the amount of time they must spend at the house.

The woman stood in the corner and scrutinized the men as they moved to the fortress on the adjacent side. They hefted the first wheels of cheese.

“Nein, nein, nein!” The woman began yelling.  

They stopped moving, confused by her sudden torrent of refusal. “She did say not to disturb her cheese” the translator proffered an explanation for her behavior.

“Well, we have to move the cheese. We’ve got to search the house.” John was terse. “She can move it herself if she wants, but we’re staying until the search is done.”

The translator relayed the message to the woman. Her face contorted with anger, fear, and annoyance. John was grateful looks don’t kill because he and his men would have been dead three times over. Finally the parade of emotions on the woman’s face ended with a look of grim resignation, and she grudgingly said, “Feine, können sie helfen.”

“She says we can help,” the translator reported.

“Good,” John replied, “let’s get started. I don’t want to be here all night.”

They began dismantling the walls of cheese. The woman riveted her eyes on them, making certain they did not damage any of her goods. The day grew hotter as they moved around the house, carefully lifting each slab, checking every nook and cranny for weapons. After they examined each crevice of the dwelling, they restacked the hunks, rebuilding the edible fort that guarded the woman’s possessions. 

Orange, fuchsia and purple streaked across the sky as they walked back down the mountain.

The smell of her house still clinging to their clothes, John wondered if he would ever be able to face another piece of cheese and hoped the laundry woman could make his uniform smell normal again.