Goodbye, Hillside Chateau

I remember the last time I saw her. It was near midnight, August of '45. She had just finished enchanting  the crowd with her flawless voice and hypnotic, flame-like swaying of her angelic figure. She was blowing kisses to the eight of us that were still drinking and the two French soldiers that had passed out drunk.
She had disappeared behind her curtain when the first round shook the foundation of the tiny building that I had come to know as my escape from the war. I went in search of her but never found her.
The next morning the Nazis rolled a small Panzer Division through the forest and destroyed most of the countryside. The Chateau was left in shambles.
I had not been to where The Chateau once stood, for weeks. I wondered if she had escaped. Where was she? Did she ever think me? A love that should have been was destroyed by madness.