The sight of a Rolls-Royce limousine pulling up to the thick stone walls of Feste Göben and being followed by a military truck overfilled with scantily clad young women was enough to pull the attention of the soldiers inside the fort. Carly easily got through checkpoints, where officers who knew her smiled as they let her through, and enlisted men who had only heard of the elite brothel felt blessed to get a view of this hedonistic heaven.

By the time they pulled into the main courtyard, young men had been roused from their barracks, all interested in this "gift" from their superiors in the Waffen-SS, or so Carly claimed. Women exited the cars, giggling and flirting with the men. Oktyabrina brought out Carly's gramophone, dancing music started, and soldiers smiled pruriently at the ladies, each of whom played up their roles as they had never done before.

Carly watched over the scene, smiling placidly while her keen eyes flit around. All was in place. She walked over to Oktyabrina.

"Remember, keep them around here. Do not let any go more than a hundred meters away."

"And if a man insists?" she whispered back.

"There are three side rooms just inside the barracks. Katya already checked them out." Carly smirked as she looked up to the tall and broad woman. "I trust you, milaya. I know you'll keep them safe."

"Budu, moye Solnyshko!" I will, my Sunshine.

Carly blushed at the term of endearment. Then she turned and walked over to Floch, who was still in the driver's seat of the truck with Connie sitting next to him.

"Well, gentlemen, let's find a place to park."

With that, she returned to her limo, and the two vehicles drove away from the party taking shape. Carly drove to a brick tunnel and stopped so Floch could pull in first. She drove inside after him, and they pulled into the tunnel far enough so they were in the shadows, out of view of anyone walking by.

Connie jumped out of the truck, dug out the bulky radio shoved into a military bag, yanked the bag on as if it was simply part of his equipment, and shouldered his rifle.

"I'll get into position." He glanced into the back of the truck. "Are you two okay in there?"

From under the benches normally used to transport soldiers, a blanket shifted, and Jean peeked out. With the limousine blocking the truck, it helped to hide Jean and Armin hiding in the back.

"We'll wait for the attack to begin. Hold your position until Armin gives you the signal."

Armin added, "The height of the lookout tower should allow the radio signal to get out. If you don't hear a reply..."

"You showed me how to hook into the main antenna," Connie cut in. "Sure wish it was you doing this."

"I'm not a sharpshooter."

Connie glanced over to his rifle. "Well, with any luck, I won't even have to use this."

"It's best if you don't, but if you do, if there's any trouble..."

"I'm ready to do what needs to be done," Connie said coldly. "Armin, I hope to see you after all this is done. Jean ... tschüss. It was good serving with you." With that, Connie marched off into the night.

Jean scoffed after he was gone. "Tschüss. We served together in the same platoon for almost two years, and that's all he has to say in the end. Typical!"

Carly looked at her limousine and sighed in regret. "It's a good car. I'm sad I have to leave it behind."

Floch was also admiring the car, running his hand over the cream and black Rolls-Royce. "It really is nice."

"Well, if you want it, you can have it." She handed him the keys, much to his shock. "I'm not sure where you'll hide it in your barracks, though." She burst into a musical laugh and spun around until her skirt swirled. "It's rather liberating, actually. My father bought me this car. Leaving it behind is like leaving behind the last binds he tried to tie around me. Besides, I may try an American car next: a Packard or Cadillac."

From inside the truck, Jean's gruff voice warned, "Let's not get side-tracked."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm off to rescue your fair damsel now. She'll be waiting for your manly arms soon enough." Carly walked over to a door and opened it. "A bientôt messieurs. Don't keep me waiting."

* * *

Connie walked through the internment camp without anyone taking notice. He looked around, trying to figure out which lookout would be best. Then again, all he really had to watch for was Armin's signal that the others had made it and the French Resistance needed to pull back.

He softly laughed to himself and shook his head. Never in a million years would he have thought that he would team up with partisans!

He entered one of the guard towers and called out in a jovial voice.

"Hallo? I'm here to relieve you. There are girls out in the courtyard. You should go enjoy yourselves."

Connie glanced around. He thought there might be some trouble getting in, someone might try to look into who he was, and they would realize he was not stationed at this fort. So it was eerie that the room was silent.

Connie's eyes narrowed as he looked around sharply. He saw an arm on the floor, the body hidden behind some ammunition crates. Connie readied his rifle and crept forward. As he rounded the edge of the crate, he saw a German soldier with a bullet through the chest.

Now Connie was on alert. He heard faint whispers upstairs, so he climbed steps, crouched low with caution. In the winding stairway, he came across another dead soldier.

Who would have done all this?

Each step was silent as he crept up, but the heavy radio on his back suddenly shifted, the leather straps creaked, and the voices above fell silent. Connie froze and flattened against the stone wall. The only cover he had was this winding staircase.

He heard a door above creak open and footsteps squeaking over wooden boards. Someone untrained in stealth. That would make this easier. He raised his rifle eye-level as he saw a shadow take shape on the stone wall.

"Wait, Gabi!" a boy yelled.

Connie flinched. "Gabi? Hey!" he shouted. "Are you that kid from earlier, in the bookstore?"

He heard another set of feet hurry out. "Are you with Madame Carly?"

"Yeah," Connie said, and he lowered his rifle. "Who the hell are you?"

"Gabi, stop!" the boy urged.

Connie scoffed. "We're on the same side, you idiot!" He continued up the stairs, and finally he saw the two children, the brunette girl with her rifle still clenched into position, and a small blond boy pulling on her to back down. "You kids better get out of here. It's going to get dangerous."

Gabi stubbornly held her ground. "We're going nowhere. Long live the Resistance!"

Falco stepped forward, although Gabi kept her rifle raised. "You're here to free Levi, right?" he asked Connie.

He nodded, ignoring the girl. "Levi, my commanding officer, and the prostitutes. How did you two get here so much quicker than the rest of us?"

Gabi huffed. "While you Germans were busy with those whores, we sneaked in. Whatever that hussy has planned, I'm just here to shoot Nazis."

"So I see," Connie mumbled. "How the hell did you shoot all those men without attracting attention?"

Gabi finally lowered her rifle, reached to a thigh holster hidden under her skirt, and pulled out a pistol with a very long, straight, tube-like barrel.

"Welrod pistol, completely silent but deadly."

"A silent gun?" Connie asked, genuinely impressed.

"A gift from the British, so we can kill Nazis and no one knows."

Falco explained with a smirk, "You could say she likes to collect guns, but that's an understatement. I'm Falco. This is Gabi."

"I've met her before," Connie muttered, glancing at the brunette. "I thought you were the French Resistance's mascot or that old bookstore clerk's granddaughter."

She huffed, offended by his assumptions. "I'm a better sharpshooter than all of those others combined."

Falco added, "She actually is."

Gabi challenged Connie, "I would bet I shoot better than you!"

Connie sighed and shook his head. "I'd take you up on that challenge and laugh in your face when you fail, but we don't have time."

"Well, you shouldn't have dawdled with those whores. While you were ogling them, we took this tower, and our friend Udo is in the next tower over." Gabi smirked haughtily at Connie, "You should get your ass over there. We've got this position secured."

"Nice job on that, but the plan is for me to be here, not a bunch of kids, and preferably without bloodshed. If you want to serve the Resistance, then follow the plan. That's what it means to work in a squad. You need to learn that if you want the Resistance to take you seriously and not treat you like a spoiled brat who wants everything her way. So what will it be: act like a soldier and follow the plan, or act like a bratty baby and mess up everything until someone comes along and kills you and your friends?"

Gabi glowered at him, but she put away her pistol and shouldered her rifle. "Fine! Udo has a terrible aim anyway. Falco, stay here and watch over the Nazi. Make sure he doesn't betray our side."

Falco yelled at Gabi in protest, "No! I'm staying with you."

Connie now snapped, "Hey, hush it up, you two! How about making your mouth as silent as your pistol?"

Gabi folded her arms and huffed dismissively at Falco's concern, but she at least lowered her voice. "I can take care of myself. I don't trust this Nazi, but if he managed to be a Werhmacht sharpshooter, at least he's probably proficient."

Connie looked at her unamused. "I was hunting with a rifle around Wolbecker Tiergarten when you were still pooping your diapers, kid."

"Oh yeah? Well my arms instructor says I'm naturally talented, and that's more important than you fumbling around a forest hunting squirrels."

"Before today, how many people have you killed?" Connie asked, his eyes bitterly cold with dark memories.

Gabi's jaw clenched as she looked too humiliated to admit the truth.

"Good. I hope you never have to kill anyone ever again."

"Well, I killed three downstairs. How many have you killed?" she challenged.

"I stopped counting over a year ago. When you've surpassed two hundred kills, it's no longer something to boast about. It's something that haunts you."

"Maybe that's where we're different. You're a coward, whereas I..."

"...Haven't seen a day of combat in your entire life," Connie cut in.

"All right, all right," Falco sighed, pulling Gabi back by the shoulder. "I'll stay here. Go watch over Udo."

Gabi began to walk out, but she paused by Connie and glared up to him. "I'm only here to help free Levi. Once he's safe..." She smirked slyly. "Anything could happen in the heat of battle, so watch your back, Nazi pig."

Connie was not even remotely threatened. "If the French Resistance were to learn that you turned against an ally—even a German one helping you for one night—do you think they'll tell you about any of their other allies? It's a shameful thing for me to admit, but there are more Germans who support resistance groups than you realize, more than your little Swabian friend over there."

"How do you know he's from Swabia?" she yelled.

"I told you to be quiet! With that accent of his, any German would know where he's from before two words leave his mouth. You learned to trust him, so get used to trusting more Germans, little girl."

Gabi huffed. "Falco earned my trust, and don't call me little girl. I'm practically a woman."

"You're, what, thirteen?"

"We're twelve," Falco answered.

Gabi spun around at him with a scathing look.

"Still in the Jungmädelbund," Connie sighed. "If you're too young to have sex without the man getting arrested, then you're still a little girl."

"Who says I'm a virgin?" she snapped.

"Oh?" Connie turned to Falco. "Congratulations, boy."

Falco's eyes widened. "Not me!" He turned sharply to Gabi. "Who did you sleep with?"

She looked flustered, sputtered, and finally blurted out, "Fine, I've never had sex, but not like I wouldn't."

"A child like you shouldn't," Connie scolded. "Now, remember, when you see Armin, don't shoot him. He's meant to give me a signal so I can radio the code word to the Resistance."

"I don't know who Armin is."

"Then just don't shoot anyone." Connie shook his head and strode past her into the tower control room. He set down the bulky backpack and began to set up the radio.

Falco watched as Gabi left, then turned back into the control room. "Sorry about her."

"Never apologize for girls. They don't make sense even when you're older." Connie looked up from the radio wires and glanced at the door. A shadow of worry passed over his face. "Is she going to be okay?"

Falco laughed softly. "Gabi can take care of herself." He watched as Connie held up two wires, looking back and forth in confusion. He knelt down beside him. "Do you need some help?"

"Can I really trust you?"

"I was being trained to be a radio operator at the local Fahnenjunkerschule. Also, I would never do anything to get Gabi into trouble, and that means the soldiers cannot know we're here. For her to be safe, your rescue mission has to succeed."

Connie smiled faintly. "You're doing all this for a girl, huh?"

Falco's face suddenly burst into a blush. "I-It's not like that."

"Uh-huh," Connie chuckled. "Well, go ahead and set up the radio, if you can. I'll get ready by the window."

Falco began to fiddle with the radio, but he paused to watch Connie preparing his sniper rifle. "Would you really shoot your own men?"

"They're not my men," Connie said coldly. "This morning, they were fellow soldiers. Now, they stand between me and my friends. Let me put it this way: if your classmates at the Fahnenjunkerschule found out that Gabi was a partisan, would you hesitate on killing them to save her?"

Falco's face went grim. "No, I wouldn't. Yet, even if they didn't know it was me, I wouldn't be able to go back to school the next day and pretend nothing happened. I could never look them in the face again."

"You would, if returning to school meant protecting your family."

"All I have is my brother, and he's a Gestapo agent."

"Damn! That sounds way more complicated than what I have to deal with."

"Yes, but at least he's not a Nazi..." Falco stopped sharply and added, "No offense."

"None taken. I'm not a Nazi either. I'm apolitical."

Falco looked confused, "But ... But you fight for them, you wear swastikas, you hail Hitler..."

"What choice do I have?" Connie snapped, sneering bitterly. "I was drafted. Swastikas are just part of the uniform. It's an ugly symbol anyway. And it's an order to say Heil Hitler."

"You could have chosen not to fight."

"Oh? Like how your brother could have chosen not to work for the Gestapo?"

"Colt joined the police because he didn't want to fight."

"So instead of fighting for the fatherland, he's the strong arm of the Nazi Party itself, arresting people for hating Hitler, sending them to labor camps, or torturing them."

Falco yelled defensively, "Colt wouldn't torture anyone."

"Keep your voice down! Besides, Jean said Colt is in that fort, right now."

"He's here?" the boy asked, looking slightly scared.

"He was there when the Gestapo tortured Eren and Levi, including breaking Eren's arm, cutting out Levi's eye, and God knows what else they did to those two. Your brother could have chosen to stop the torture. He didn't. It doesn't matter if he was the one with the knife or not, he didn't try to stop it from happening. He is far more a supporter of the Nazi Party than I've ever been."

Falco pouted and looked away shamefully. Connie saw the boy looking ready to cry, and he sighed in annoyance.

"Let me guess: your brother was a normal police detective before the war, when suddenly he was given no choice but a career change. Just as I had no choice but to report in when I was drafted. You're in Hitler Youth, or maybe still in DJV. Aren't you boys required to yell Heil Hitler, give the Hitlergruß, and sing Horst-Wessel-Lied?"

Falco flinched. "That's different. We're not old enough to make a choice for ourselves."

"Bullshit. You could choose not to attend at all."

"It's mandatory!"

"So is the military, kid. I refused to attend Hitler Youth, even after it became compulsory. Luckily, my family lived so far away from the city, no one bothered us about it. Hitler took power when I was seven, and suddenly it became mandatory to give the Hitlergruß at the beginning and end of every day, pledging our allegiance to a government we didn't even understand. Even then, I didn't like Hitler. I couldn't get out of lifting my arm, but I always said Ein Liter instead, so enthusiastically, no one could tell I wasn't saying it right. Then one day, some brat in Hitler Youth reported me in order to win points with his troop. The teacher demanded that I say it right, I said Hitler could go choke on an apple, so my parents got called in. Rather than scold me for not conforming, they pulled me out of public school and taught me at home. They didn't let my littler siblings go to school either, so that they wouldn't be indoctrinated. When attendance in Hitler Youth became mandatory, we simply ignored it, or my father said my help was needed on the farm, excuse after excuse. I managed to dodge it altogether. I never once did a proper Hitlergruß before being drafted into the military. Personally, I still hope the guy chokes on an apple."

Falco's blue eyes looked pensive and thoughtful. "How do you keep on fighting if you disagree so strongly?"

Connie scoffed and looked sickened. "What's the alternative? Flee to another country? Maybe run away with all of them tonight? Then the Gestapo will go knocking on my family's door, and the next thing I know my mother is dead!"

"They wouldn't kill your mother just because you went missing. Wait ... is she Jewish?" he gasped.

"No. She's..."

Connie cut off, and a wistful pain flinched in his face. He stared out the window. From this vantage point, he could see the brothel girls dancing, although he could not hear the music. Softly, he continued.

"I love my mother, and I love my brother and sister. I would do anything to protect them, even fight and kill."

"I don't understand," Falco mumbled. "I mean, maybe they'll get harassed, but ... well, it sounds like your family is anti-fascist. They must hate that you're a soldier, even if it's not your choice. Wouldn't your mother be happier knowing you're free?"

Connie burst out a bitter laugh. "Would she be happier? Who knows anymore?"

Falco felt uncomfortable with the darker mood and focused down on the radio. However, Connie's gaze hazed over. He tried not to think about home that much. He lied to everyone. He had to. The truth was too damning.

"When I was fifteen, my mother had a fever, very high. We lived out near the forest. My father had died just a year earlier, a hunting accident, they say, although some claim it was a mob of Hitler Youth boys who purposely hunted him down due to his anti-fascist beliefs. I didn't know any doctors, and I couldn't leave my little siblings at home long enough to go into the city and fetch one. Not like we could have afforded the medicine. She recovered, but ... since then ... she..."

Connie gulped down the pain of the past.

"She can speak," he said, like he was trying to placate himself with one little bit of consolation. "She knows who I am ... most of the time. She knows my sister Sunny. My brother Martin ... for some reason, she thinks he's an older brother I had who died when he was young. Whatever that fever was, her brain and mind..."

Connie solemnly shook his head and pursed his lips hard to hold back the grief.

"I have an aunt ... I mean, those two are sisters, and even she said I should send my mother to an asylum. We all know what they do to people in asylums. They don't get treated by doctors. They don't get to recover in a nice building. No! They go to a gas chamber!" he spat out in disgust. "So I told everyone she died, and we buried her in the back next to my father. Even the government thinks she's dead. I hid her in the attic, and my sister now takes care of her. If the Gestapo came to my house and saw my mother in the condition she's in, that would be the end! We'd all get in trouble for reporting her as dead, and she'd be sent straight to the gas chambers. I won't let that happen! So for now, my sister takes care of her. I send back money when I can ... and I stay alive!"

Falco muttered softly, "I see, and I'm sorry. From this side, it's easy to assume that everyone in the Wehrmacht is a Nazi." He looked down at the radio. "So, why are you doing this? This is a huge risk."

Now, Connie's smile was genuine, and a twinkle returned to his eyes. "Because my mother would be so sad if I let another homosexual die because of the Nazis."

"You know someone else?"

"Oh yes. I had a cousin, older than me, and so funny. He was a professional comedian and even performed on the radio once back in the Weimar days. He was my role model. I play pranks and crack jokes, but him?" Connie laughed just recalling it. "I would write down his jokes, they were so good!" That brightness drifted away again. "Then the Gestapo came. They had captured his lover, who turned on him under interrogation and torture. They took my cousin away. He just ... vanished! For over a year, no one would tell us anything, if he was alive or dead. Of course, we all assumed he was dead ... until one day, he returned."

"Really?" Falco gasped.

Connie nodded pensively. "They said they reformed him, converted him back to being normal. Not only that, he was already married to a woman, and she was pregnant. One ugly as shit hag already in her thirties, pox scarred, no teeth, one glass eye, missing a few fingers. They really scraped the bottom of the barrel to find her.

"He ... He wasn't the same. He looked like he hadn't eaten in months, or seen the sunshine in a year. He had scars, so many hideous scars. He didn't speak much, never laughed, never said anything about what happened to him ... and he never told another joke ever again. It was like they destroyed all emotion in him.

"When they had their baby, it was deformed, had a swollen head, water on the brain, the doctor said it wouldn't live long. My cousin ... he snapped the infant's neck. Just like that! No emotion at all. He said they could try again, like it was a chore, a command. It probably was, come to think of it. Get the homosexual guy, beat him up, medicate him, threaten him to have kids, force him to have sex a few times with a woman ... probably at gunpoint," he mumbled.

Connie grimaced as he thought back to Kitz Woermann forcing Levi into sex. Could that actually have been the case for his cousin? Had that woman even been a willing bride? Perhaps they both had been forced into a marriage purely to satisfy the command to increase Germany's population.

"All they wanted out of him was to sire a bunch of Aryan babies that they could turn into even more Nazis," he realized, looking sickened. "That woman got pregnant once more but miscarried early on. Then the war started, and my cousin was drafted. He was now a reformed man, and he was expected to fight for his country ... the same country that couldn't accept him for who he was. He reported in, got a uniform, and even got proficient with a gun, all in one day."

"One day?" Falco exclaimed.

"Hmm! He aimed that gun perfectly and killed a man. Himself!"

Falco gasped in horror.

"He decided it was better to take a single life, snuff out the existence of a useless sinner—he wrote that in big Blackletter script on his suicide note: Useless Sinner—rather than to take the life an innocent British or Russian. I was a child when he was taken, and only thirteen when he ended his life. I loved my cousin so much, I felt guilty that I couldn't get him to laugh anymore. I felt guilty that we never even tried to hide him.

"That's why I hide my mother. And that's why I'm up here in this tower, risking it all ... because the guilt of my cousin dying ... it never left me. Never will," he ended, sounding resigned to a lifetime of carrying that weight. "I won't let a homosexual who is my friend suffer the same fate, and if I can save Eren, maybe that's how I can finally find forgiveness. So when this night is over, I'll return to the barracks, I'll pretend nothing happened, and I'll keep on fighting. To protect my mother, to protect my sisters, to keep the memory of my cousin alive, I'll turn into the monster the Nazis want me to become."

Falco looked down at his outfit. Although he had dressed all in black when Gabi came, woke him up, and demanded he go with her and Udo, he had also grabbed his Hitler Youth knife. It had a tiny swastika on a red and white diamond on the handle. The dagger was an heirloom. Although boys received a knife the day they joined the Deutsches Jungvolk, Colt's knife was different, made before the war, and thus of a higher quality.

Falco pulled the dagger out of the black leather sheath and looked down at the biggest difference between newer knives and this one: the phrase Blut und Ehre! was etched on the blade.

Blood and honor. Boys from the Deutsches Jungvolk on up through Hitler Youth repeated that Nazi slogan, not really understanding what it meant. They were expected to spill their own blood, all for the honor of dying for their country, their party ... for Hitler.

Colt had looked so proud passing his dagger down to his little brother. Now Falco wondered, just how much had Colt bought into the propaganda? Sure, he never joined the Nazi Party because he said he had no interest in politics, but what did he really believe?

This knife represented ideals Falco never supported, yet he still carried it around, with that slogan and that swastika.

With a stern face, he set the knife aside and silently thought to himself, "Sorry, Colt, but I can't follow in your footsteps."

"I hope the war ends soon, before I'm forced to fight."

Connie glanced back at the soft-faced boy. "I felt the same way. Up until 1942, I kept thinking, 'I hope the war ends before I'm old enough to be drafted.' Unfortunately for me, it dragged on. If that happens, a word of advice..." Connie grinned widely. "Grab your girl and run away to Switzerland together."

Falco blushed and ducked his head down, forcing himself to focus on the radio instead.

* * *

Inside the fort, Hauptmann Kitz Woermann and Gestapo Kriminalsekretär Koslow were sharing a drink when they heard the noise outside, first shouting, then music.

Koslow looked annoyed that his late-night drinking was getting interrupted. "What are those shitty soldiers doing out there?"

Just then, a bullish blond entered the room, and Reiner blocked the doorway. "Don't worry about it. The Waffen-SS sent some women to entertain the men. Command felt it would be good to keep their virility and strength up."

Kitz's eyes narrowed at Reiner. "Why now, when we have prisoners here?"

"Herr Hauptmann, this is an internment camp. It's normal to have prisoners. The camp is run by the Waffen-SS, and we take care of our men, since we are genetically superior to average Heer soldiers."

Kitz bristled at the insinuation.

Koslow set his cup down and rose to his feet. "I will go make sure nothing is suspicious."

"It's already suspicious," Kitz said, glaring hard at Reiner.

Koslow headed to the door, but Reiner refused to move out of the way. The paunchy Gestapo agent glared up at him.

"Move, Herr Untersturmführer, or you will be arrested."

"On what charges?" he challenged.

A woman's voice cut in. "Now, now." A lithe hand landed on Reiner's broad shoulder and slithered around it as Carly glided into the room. "We're here to enjoy ourselves."

Koslow snarled at her. "What are you doing free, whore?"

"You'll need to take that up with Hauptscharführer Hempen. However, I've been told that if soldiers wake him up, he'll torture them the same way he tortures Jews." She winked slyly. "Best wait until morning."

Koslow rammed his finger into her chest. "Do not leave this fort, whore."

"I would never leave my girls behind," she swore with a private smirk.

Koslow stormed away. Kitz got up as well.

"Now, now, Captain," Carly said, slithering up to the middle-aged man with bulging eyes. "The Major sent me to find you. He wants to make sure his captain is fit for battle."

Kitz scoffed and moved away from her. "I am fit without some whore to infest me with diseases."

"I don't allow diseases in my brothel. You'd know that, except you've never been there."

"I have a wife. I don't need some slut."

She leaned in close to his face and whispered sympathetically, "If you can't get it up, I have pills for that."

"That's not a problem!" he screamed.

"Oh? Your superiors are worried about your ability to lead men, your endurance in battle, and your bravery after ... a certain incident." She lowered her voice to a whisper and hissed, "You know what I'm talking about."

The corner of Kitz's huge eyes twitched in rage. So, this was about panicking up north and wounding himself to get out of battle.

"If a man cannot last long in bed, how can he last long in battle? If he's too scared of a weak little woman, how can he be expected to face the enemy?"

"I am fit for battle!" he sneered.

"The Major wants to make sure. I'll be the judge of ... just how virile you truly are."

She glanced back over to Reiner, gave him a wink, and the soldier backed out. Reiner shut the door on those two.

She was good! Reiner cleared his throat as merely the smoothness of her velvety voice was enough to rile him up. He knew he needed to move on, but he had to take a moment to convince his body to calm down.

He was still giving himself a moment when Carly opened the door and slipped out. She stopped sharply at seeing him, and their eyes met. Then Reiner quickly glanced into the room. Kitz Woermann was slumped on the floor.

"Is he dead?"

Carly shut the door quickly.

"To be honest, I was planning to shoot him," Reiner admitted.

Carly chuckled and held up a syringe. "Guns are too loud, knives are too bloody, and strangling takes too long. Chemicals are the warfare of the future. He's not dead, but he won't be waking up for at least an hour. You must be Reiner Braun. Jean mentioned you."

"Kirschtein? I was beginning to think he wasn't coming. Did he bring you here?"

Carly gave him a scheming smile. "We mutually planned to come. He'll help me, and I'll help him."

"I'm here to free Jäger," Reiner said sternly.

"So am I," replied Carly. "But first, we need to get Jean's sweetheart. He won't agree to do more without her. We'll head to Eren when we get the signal."

"What signal?"

"Oh," she laughed musically, "you'll hear it! Now, can you be so kind as to show me where my girls are being held?"

"Girls? The prostitutes brought in yesterday? I don't know where."

Carly pouted in disappointment and looked around.

"But..." he added, "I can help you find them."

Her smile returned. "That would be wonderful. We need to hurry." She shifted the bag on her shoulder.

"What's that?" asked Reiner.

"Clothing. Many of my girls were dragged away naked. If they go out into the night nude, they'll freeze to death. Unless you plan to warm up their bodies yourself," she said with a titter. She glanced down at his crotch. "You look ready for action."

"No thank you," Reiner sneered, and he turned sharply to hide the fact that this woman naturally had an arousing effect on him. "Follow me, and try to stay out of sight. I'll send any guards out to your distraction."

Carly followed with a smooth smile on her face. "I can see why Eren thinks so highly of you. You're quite the gentleman."

Reiner huffed and marched through the halls, his eyes cold and focused.

* * *

Around the fort, everything seemed to happen all at once.

Connie was the first to notice. The air raid sirens wailed to the north, and he recognized the sound of bomber planes.

"Here we go," he whispered.

Below in the courtyard, the soldiers noticed seconds later. Calls barked out. Oktyabrina gathered the girls up right away and moved them inside. She herded them to the designated meeting spot, a large room deep within the fort that would be safe from the bombs and big enough to hold them all. Once she had them in the room, she went through a headcount.

"We're missing one." She looked around the women, some of them having clumped together into their own cliques. "Line up again! Who is missing?"

The orders were passed around in multiple languages for all the women. They reluctantly lined up again, and this time Oktyabrina made note of who each one was.

"Rościsława," she whispered. "Who last saw Rościsława?" She repeated the question in Russian. "Can someone translate that into Polish? Where the hell is Rościsława?"

* * *

Out by the car, Floch heard the planes.

"It's time," he whispered to Jean and Armin, who were now sitting up in the truck, ready to go.

"They're a little early," Armin noted.

"The sooner we can get out of here, the better," Jean said, hoisting a black bag onto his shoulders. "Let's go!"

They entered through the side door. Armin first headed to a room where Carly had used her spies to figure out where the Germans held the keys to the prisons. A SS guard was in the room, and at seeing two unfamiliar Heer soldiers enter, he bolted to his feet.

"What are you doing here? Name and rank—"

Jean lifted a revolver and shot the man. Armin was stunned. He had thought they could talk their way through this, yet Jean's face was now cold.

"We don't have time," he growled.

Armin nodded in reluctant agreement. They were this far deep now. The new enemy wore the same uniforms as them. He rushed in and looked at the wall full of rings of keys.

"Based on your description, Eren is in the solitary confinement bloc," he said, grabbing one ring of keys. "According to Carly, Katya found Levi in a group cell. But which one? It looks like there were men's cells and women's cells." He muttered to himself, "Just how many prisoners could this internment camp hold?"

"Stop analyzing and hurry!" Jean snapped.

Unsure, Armin grabbed three sets of key rings. Then they hurried toward the meeting spot.

* * *

In another part of the fort, Reiner and Carly made it to the prisons, a trail of men with drugs injected into them to knock them out left in their wake. Off from one of these men, they got the keys to the prison cell. Reiner opened it, and Carly went in.

Annie leaped up. "Madame Carly!"

Carly patted the girl's head and reassured her in Russian, "I told you, I wouldn't leave you behind. Here." She opened the bag of clothes. "Dress quickly. Don't worry if they fit or match. We'll get you better clothes once we're free."

The naked prostitutes gladly pulled on dresses and shoes. Reiner stood by the door, politely not watching. Carly came up to him.

"A normal man would at least be tempted to watch."

His face tightened. "Oh, I'm tempted! But it's impolite."

Carly chuckled softly and patted his shoulder. "You and Eren are a lot alike."

"Careful. I may take that as an insult."

"Come with us, and I'll ask each of the girls to thank you ... properly!" She eyed him up and down, such a tall man, broad shoulders, hulking arms, firm jawline, and eyes like pale sapphires. "I wouldn't mind thanking you myself."

Reiner laughed curtly at the proposition and shook his head. "I owe Jäger, but I'm not leaving the military."

"Well, that's a shame. Your loss." She glanced back in. "Now we will join the rest."

They traveled back through the halls, with Reiner marching ahead, signaling them to stop sometimes until hallways were clear. Overhead, they heard bombs hitting somewhere distant.

Carly looked concerned, "Are the planes already moving away?"

"No," muttered Reiner. "They usually circle around to drop the last of their payload."

Just then, something hit the fort directly. The women screamed, and Carly lost her balance. Reiner grabbed her to keep her upright.

"Dammit!" he growled. "At least with all this going on, no one will pay much attention to us."

"That's the point," Carly said, although even she sounded slightly shaken.

They rushed onward until they turned a corner, and Reiner was stunned to see a SS officer.

"Halt!" he shouted.

Carly carefully slipped another syringe out of her purse and hid it behind her hand.

"The harlots are supposed to be up ahead," the soldier said, glaring at the young women.

Reiner thumbed behind him. "These ones were taken to private rooms by officers. I'm returning them."

"Well, hurry. Keep them out of our way. They're a distraction we don't need." The man grumbled as he marched away, "We should throw them to the Americans and keep them distracted long enough to shoot them all."

Reiner sighed in relief, and they went onward without incident. Up ahead, they saw the hall open up to a large room with dozens of women. With them was Jean and Armin.

Jean saw the group coming up, dropped the black bag, and ran forward. "Annie!"

She burst into a smile as she raced into his arms. They hugged and Jean swung her around in relief.

Oktyabrina went up to Carly. "We have a problem."

Reiner walked over to Armin, who was rubbing out his bandaged head. "I didn't think you'd be well enough to come."

Armin laughed wearily. "I'm beginning to think I miscalculated."

"Well, I knew you'd help Kirschtein figure a way to break Eren out. I just never thought you'd use the entire brothel as a distraction."

"Actually, we're breaking them all out. Eren will travel with the women."

Reiner nodded in understanding. After breaking out the Jewish prostitutes by drugging multiple soldiers and officers, there was no way the rest of the women would survive the communal retribution to follow. Reiner picked up the black bag Jean had been carrying and opened it up.

"Good, it's all there."

"Were you the one to rescue Levi's stuff?"

Reiner grumbled, "I just held onto it, that's all." Then he stomped up to Jean. "Kiss her later. Let's hurry."

Jean finally released Annie. "Right. I can lead the way to Eren's cell."

"Wait!" Carly yelled. She looked distraught. "We're missing one girl."

"Did we miss a prisoner?" asked Jean.

"No, she's a Polish girl. No one has seen her since we arrived here."

Jean looked around at the stone walls of the fort. "We can't sit here and wait."

"I am not leaving a single one of my girls," Carly said with firm conviction.

"We can't search an entire internment camp for one girl."

Carly's eyes narrowed. "Would you wait for one of your men?"

"And risk the lives of the entire platoon? No."

Carly's face was set firm, her eyes narrow, and she crossed her arms across her chest in resoluteness.

"Fine!" Jean growled. "We'll break out Eren and Levi, then we'll see if she makes her way here. If she's not back..."

Reiner cut in and offered, "I'll search for her, and I'll escort her outside of the city."

Carly smiled in relief, went up to Reiner, and kissed him on the cheek. "You really are a good man. Merci."

He blushed and nodded in a taciturn response.

"All right, everyone!" Jean barked out, sounded every bit like the German officer he was. "Keep together, be quiet! Let's move out!"

* * *

Hidden in the fort tunnel, Floch was ignoring the sound of bombs and examining the sleek Rolls-Royce. It really was a lovely car. He wished he could take it for a quick ride. Then again, a joyride in the middle of an air raid was out of the question.

Just then, a scantily clad woman ran up to him. Floch paused, recognizing her as one of Carly's brothel girls.

"Please," she said in broken German with a strong accent. "Help me."

Floch jolted and looked around. "Why aren't you with the others?"

"They left," she said in a panic. "Żołnierz, a soldier, he took me. Oktyabrina say, go not far, but he ... he pull me away. Then ... bomby." She hugged herself in terror.

Floch looked around. What was he supposed to do? "Okay, well, we need to get you to the others..."

"No! Stay with me, proszę."

"Don't worry," he said with a charming smile. "Do you know where they were planning to go?"

She shook her head. "Madame Carly mówiła po rosyjsku, nie w języku polskim."

"Whoa, whoa, I don't know your language."

She looked infuriated. "Madame Carly, she spoke in Russian, not in—what you call it—in Polish language. I not understand."

Floch sighed. "Well, I saw the blueprints, and I helped to translate. I think I remember where the meeting spot was."

"Do you know where Levi is?"

"Levi? The Jew?"

"They go to Levi. They may not still be in—what you call it—in meeting spot."

"That's true, but I don't know his location. Some girl named Katya knew that."

Her brow furrowed. Under her breath, she mumbled, "Katya. That makes sense." Then she turned her face up to him. "You are so brave, my soldier."

Floch blushed. "Aww, it's nothing. I'd do anything to save Lieutenant Jäger."

She laughed stiffly. "Jäger, yes."

"We should hurry."

She ran her hand up Floch's tunic. "Could you first help me to calm down?"

"Calm down? I'm not sure how."

Her eyes looked up seductively, and her body moved in closer. "I must first calm down the problem I have."

He gulped as the woman began to grind up against him. "Is, um ... Is something wrong?"

"Tak! That other man, he riled me up, but then he left me ... podniecony ... aroused, wet, aching," she moaned, tracing her fingers up to his throat and back to his hair. "Has that ever happened to you, feeling so hot, but then you can't finish, until it hurts to move?"

Floch let out a soft whimper.

Her hand reached down and began to palm him. "I bet you know what I mean."

His breathing went quicker. "We ... should find ... the others."

"We will, but first..." She lowered his zipper, reached into his trousers, and began to stroke him.

"Whoa!" Floch cried out in shock.

She pulled his cock out and licked her lips as she pumped him fast. "You know, I've always wanted to make love in the back of Madame Carly's limousine. She never allowed it." She leaned up and kissed him. "We'll be quick."

Floch's mind was dazed. The young woman opened the car door and pushed him in. Floch scrambled up onto the backseat, and she crawled right on top of him before he had a chance to get his bearings. She straddled him, held his cock, and slid herself down onto him.

"Ooh, that's what I need. Aryan cocks are the best."

Floch shivered at feeling her. "Oh my God!"

"You act like this is your first time." She paused, and her eyes widened. "Wait, is it?"

He nodded, unable to form words.

She chuckled naughtily. "Then I'll make it good."

She began to rock hard on him, and Floch groaned in pleasure.

"I ... don't have ... thing ... a condom..."

"Don't worry. Carly keeps us on a pill. The condoms are to stop diseases from spreading, but you're a virgin, so I doubt you have anything I need to worry about. Besides," she chuckled, "it's always so much better for a man to truly feel how wet he makes a woman, and I like feeling a man's cock buried deep inside me. Especially when he fills me to the brim with his cum." She slammed down hard and swiveled.

"Oooh! Oh God!"

"Yes, you like being up inside me, don't you?" she purred.

He blindly reached out to her, up to her breasts, although she was fully dressed.

"Do you want these?" She slipped open a few buttons on her blouse and pulled her bra up out of the way. Then she slid her hands along his chest. "Can you remove some of this? It's only fair."

Floch eagerly undid his tunic, and her hands slipped up under the cotton shirt underneath.

"Such a firm body," she moaned. "So strong. That's why I have to resort to this."

"Huh?"

She rode him faster, and Floch's vision turned white as the universe around him faded away to grunts and moans as the Rolls-Royce rocked and the windows steamed up.

He had hired one of Carly's prostitutes early on in their stay in Metz, but he chickened out and only got a blow job. Now, he felt utterly overwhelmed. The rush of battle, mixed with the sensuality of this woman, was driving him into a climax much too quickly.

Floch panted hard. "Oh God! Oh ... I'm gonna..."

"Be a good Nazi soldier and fill me."

His eyes slammed shut, and all sound went deaf as Floch burst with a long moan. In the midst of that euphoria, something slammed into him, knocking the air out of his lungs.

It burned!

Floch gasped and looked up at the woman. Her face was maniacal, and as the burning grew, Floch looked down to see a knife pierced just below his sternum. She suddenly yanked the knife out, and with it a shot of blood spurt out.

"It's always so enjoyable to leave them with one last feeling of bliss."

Floch stared in horror. The Polish accent had been gradually fading away, which he thought was strange but only vaguely noticed in the midst of passion. Now, it was fully gone as the woman spoke impeccable High German.

She laughed musically, and then suddenly she slammed the knife down again. Floch howled out, and she cackled wildly.

"And your first time, too! How fun!"

She stabbed him again, again, again, repeatedly with fanatic enthusiasm as she continued to ride him through spasms of agony.

"It'll never be as good as this. Never! I'm your first and last. How wonderful! Victory for me! Sieg heil! Sieg heil!" She suddenly moaned and shuddered. "That's it. Oh yes, that's it! Yes! Ooooh!"

Floch watched in horror as the woman, covered in his blood, threw her head back with loud, lewd cries of hedonistic pleasure as her vagina fluttered with spasms around his cock still inside her. Finally, she sank, a serene smile on her face as she panted in exhaustion.

"I haven't climaxed in such a long time. Ooh, that was incredible." She looked down at him. "You should feel proud. Not many men can get a woman off, especially their first time." She raised up and allowed the semen inside her to drip out onto the stab wounds. "Look at that. The future of Germany, mixed in blood, as it should be. Blood and honor!" She crawled off and smoothed down her ruined dress.

Floch let out a moan of pain, twitching as blood poured out.

"Hey, at least you won't die a virgin." She tapped the tip of his flaccid, wet cock. "You get to die with my wetness covering you, and I get to have a dead man's semen in me, the last remnants of your life swimming around inside me, trying to find the egg of life, but they will find nothing, struggling and dying in vain. How gloriously ironic!"

"Why?" he gasped out.

"Oh, sweetie. Your lieutenant is fucking an extremely dangerous man, a great threat to the Reich, one we've been trying to find for nearly a decade. Now, as much as I would love to think that this Jew corrupted an upstanding Aryan warrior, the fact remains: Levi Ackerman is a traitor to Germany, an assassin who has killed his fair share of Nazi leaders in the past, and is now a Resistance leader. As for Eren Jäger ... well, he's homosexual, a weed in the fertile fields of Germany. Kriminaldirektor Magath may want to keep him alive for his own schemes, but the people I work for do not feel the same way. We must purge abnormal men like that, all for the glory of the Reich."

"No! Jäger..." Floch groaned.

"Oh, don't worry. I'll kill him and Levi quickly. They won't suffer like you." She pulled Floch's gun out of its holster. "He'll be killed by your own gun. How does that make you feel?" She laughed sadistically. Then she leaned over his face and whispered, "Heil Hitler." She gave him a kiss on the lips and left.

Floch struggled with each breath. "No ... Jäger ... must ... warn..."

# # #

# #

#

Hey everyone, it's Rhov.

Today (August 12th) is my birthday! It's a bittersweet one. I lost my mother this Spring, so this is the first time I can't call her to thank her for giving me life. That's rough.

—

Blut und Ehre ("Blood and Honor") – The title of this chapter comes from a Nazi slogan. It was on many posters, engraved on Hitler Youth knives, and embossed on their belt buckles. Although the phrase is banned in Germany, is still used by certain groups, like the Blood and Honour neo-Nazi music promotion network in the UK, the Golden Dawn neo-Nazi party of Greece, and recently in the news (back in June) the Wagner Group, a Russian state-funded private military group, whose first commander likes to wear a Wehrmacht cap, has Nazi tattoos, greets subordinates with Heil, picked a Nazi slogan as the group motto, and even the name WAGNER GROUP came from the commander's own call sign, in honor of the music composer Hitler admired so much, Richard Wagner. So yeah, the Wagner Group is "allegedly" a neo-Nazi military group in the pocket of Russia. Which is ironic and also YIKES!

(The last Packard tank and first post-war production Packard wave to one another to show a new era of peace has arrived, September 20, 1945.)

Carly jokes that maybe she'll get an American car and lists two luxury cars of the time: Packard and Cadillac. Indeed, she may like the post-war Packard. However, let's be real: Carly is going to get a new Rolls-Royce, especially when she sees the post-war Silver Wraith. Such a gorgeous car!

Swabian – If you recall in the chapter "Apples and Honey," Colt and Eren were talking about dialects, mostly how Eren tries to speak in High German but his northern dialect slips through. Eren pointed out that Colt has a Swabian dialect, and Colt admits he's from Stuttgart. So here, Connie knows right away that Falco is Swabian. This shocks Gabi because she's French and maybe doesn't know about the differences between dialects, but it would not be a surprise to Falco.

"Still in the Jungmädelbund" / "DJV" – Although she's dressed for black ops now, back in the chapter "Clarity in the Cathedral," Gabi was wearing her uniform for Jungmädelbund (Young Girls' League). She's 12, so she would still be in this children's version of the Bund Deutscher Mädel (League of German Girls, basically the female version of Hitler Youth) while Falco is part of the DJV, short for Deutsches Jungvolk (German Youngsters) a separate section from Hitler Youth for boys 10-13.

Hitler Youth Knives – At ten years old, a new member of the Deutsches Jungvolk received a symbol of their ascent from childhood to adulthood: a small dagger! They were instructed to keep the dagger on them at all times, in case they came across enemies who could be hiding anywhere. The HJ knife was engraved with the slogan Blut und Ehre from 1933-1938, which is why I say it was Colt's knife, handed down to Falco as an heirloom. Colt would have joined Hitler Youth in 1934. Membership for Aryans became mandatory under the Gesetz über die Hitlerjugend (Hitler Youth Law). Thus, Falco really did have "no choice" but to be in Hitler Youth, whereas Connie managed to evade it due to living out in a forested region. In March 1939, this legal obligation was reaffirmed with the Jugenddienstpflicht (Youth Service Duty) which conscripted all German youths into the Hitler Youth, even if the parents objected.

Illnesses mentioned – Connie gave quite the back-story. Although he has been the platoon prankster, his teasing hides a dark past. The illness his mother had was encephalitis, which in extreme cases without proper treatment can cause the symptoms he describes: speech impairment, memory problems, hearing and vision defects, loss of muscle coordination, persistent fatigue, and personality changes. He then describes his cousin's baby as having water on the brain. This is congenital hydrocephalus, a condition my sister has, where the brain cannot properly drain cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) leading to a buildup that puts pressure on the brain, causing the whole skull to swell. This can lead to cognitive impairment, seizures, blindness, and often death. Today, this can be fixed with a surgery. When she was 6 months old, my sister had a shunt implanted in her brain that siphons the excess fluid out into a lengthy tube that runs through her body to pump the fluid into the abdominal cavity, where it is reabsorbed by the body. It was a very invasive surgery that she had to have repeated as she grew older. However, CSF shunts were not common (and rarely successful) until the 1960s, so in the 1930s when this event happened, a baby with hydrocephalus had little chance of survival.

Welrod – Most silencers don't actually make a gun as silent as John Wick or James Bond would have you believe. They're LESS loud, but still quite noisy, thus why the American NRA insists on calling them "suppressors," as silencer as a misnomer. (In reality, the name change was a rebranding tactic in 2011 to overturn laws banning silencers. "I don't own a silencer, I own a suppressor.")

However, even the most die-hard NRA supporter has to admit, the Welrod truly is a silent gun. Developed by the British SOE (Special Operations Executive) around the middle of World War II, this was basically one massive silencer with a pistol attached. The silencer slowed down the bullets to subsonic levels, meaning no loud CRACK of a gunshot. In fact, if you were standing five meters away, you wouldn't know that a gun had even gone off. It was designed to be carried in two segments for better concealment: the barrel detached from an 8-round magazine which doubled as the grip. There are reports of German soldiers assuming the barrel was simply a bicycle pump.

The Welrod was only truly silent for about ten rounds. After that, the internal rubber wipes (which were solid, unlike modern silencer wipes that have a hole in the middle for the bullet to pass through) would be worn in, at which point the gun was about as quiet as a modern day silencer. The Welrod was used by British SOE operatives, the American OSS (Office of Strategic Services, the predecessor of the CIA), Danish special forces, and various Allied resistance forces. The gun was verified to have been used as recently as the First Gulf War (1990-1991) after which point it fell off the radar. However, leaked documents suggest it is still in production. It's so silent, though, you'd never know it was fired.

Side note: When I told my husband about this gun, he got uppity when I said it had a silencer. "No, it's a suppressor. Only Hollywood calls it a silencer!" I got to push up my glasses and go, "Well actually! It was called silencer from the 1800s up until 2011, when the NRA changed the name to suppressor to separate it from the negative connotations of it being an assassin's tool. It was a rebranding tactic to boost sales and overturn laws banning silencers, similar to rebranding assault rifles as modern hunting rifles to distance them from their connection to mass shootings. However, the ATF, Department of Justice, and the entire rest of the world continue to use the term silencer. The only people who use the term suppressor are American gun rights associations. So despite what GunTubers falsely claim about 'only Hollywood calls it that,' the proper term actually is silencer, and suppressor is a load of NRA propaganda." He's a huge gun nut who used to belong to the NRA, whereas I'm more of a historical firearms enthusiast who supports sensible gun control laws, so he hates it when he tries to be pedantic but I come in with historical facts on my side!

SS Hauptscharführer Georg Hempen – This Gestapo agent terrorized the prisoners of Fort Queuleu and was nicknamed "le bourreau de Queuleu" (The Executioner of Queuleu). He kept prisoners blindfolded at all times and was generous with using methods of torture. Mass graves of his victims were later found around Fort Queuleu. According to French news articles from 1969 reposted on Republicain Lorrain, after the war Hempen fled to Czechoslovakia, but he was eventually caught and tried for war crimes. His lawyers argued that, since he kept his prisoners blindfolded the entire time, none of the witnesses ever actually saw that it was Hempen and not some other Gestapo agent who tortured them. He was acquitted based on this technicality. Fifty years later, this trial is still seen as a "tragic story of a historic wound that has never been healed, of justice that has never been done."

Karma did bite his ass, though. I found an entry on Hempen in a genealogy page—yes, I was really trying to find anything I could on him—and he lost both of his adult sons in the war. The only grandchild listed, Horst (born in 1940) dropped his surname to separate himself from his monstrous grandfather. So, there was no lasting legacy for Georg Hempen besides being forever known and despised as "The Executioner of Queuleu."

BTW, if this is familiar, it's because back in "The Internment Camp" I lamented that I couldn't figure out how to work this bastard into the story. Well, now I found a place for him.

—

Now, I'm off to have some birthday cake!

Cheers, everyone!