Disclaimer: All characters and themes are the product of Quentin Tarantino's genius. Any others not native to the film are my own creations that are not set out to improve upon or change an already stunning production. I only intend to quench my need for an extended version of the character's lives. The basterds originally come to France in the spring of 1944. I have brought them a little earlier. The original film remains truthful.

This is my first fan-fic Narrative.

Prologue

21st February 1937

A velvet, black car drove up to the georgian terrace, lights off, engine silent. The night was bitter and laced with frost that stayed icy as the Gestapo officers stepped out onto the cobbled street. Each black leather boot squeaked ever so slightly, traces of blood muddying the shine. They had had a wonderful day. Like minions of death, they silently climbed the steps of house 5 to greet their leader and tell him of what they had done and like children hoped he would be proud. A small wrap at the door brought the frail, old butler Hirsch to the door who led the four into the crimson study illuminated by the great gaping fire casting spider web shadows all around. The four officers stood still, examining each wisp of darkness dance and move until an object in control of his own movement came to greet them.

"Dieter, my friend. Come now, you mustn't stand. Sit and have some milk with me. I'm sorry there is no coffee but at this time of night I'm afraid an espresso would really have me tossing and turning in my bed. A glass of milk however, will rest us both. Sit, sit! Now that your young friends here have safely accompanied you to my temporary home they may leave."

Dieter Hellstrom sat in a large armchair that grasped his body and forced him to sit up like some sort of dentistry chair. He waved off his other three companions ordering them to wait for him in the car. Colonel Hans Landa watched them exit before turning to smile at Dieter with dead black eyes.

"Now those oafs have gone, we may be able to have an intelligent conversation if today's exploits have not tired you out?"

"No Hans. As busy as we were, I'm sure I can keep up with you." Dieter flicked his eyes to the fire as if to absorb light before he was sucked back into the black holes that resonated from Hans' eye sockets.

"Ah good! Now tell me Dieter, what misfortune have you been bestowing on enemies of the state? I trust you did carry out my orders?" embers in the black of his eye shimmered. Anticipation.

"Yes sir. Lord Charles Moore and his family were... eradicated."

"Come Dieter. Do not spare me the details. We are both me are we not? Now please, enlighten me."

Dieter smiled back at Hans' grin. He shifted in the chair to release his body but its design kept him still so those eyes could bare into him even further.

"We arrived at his apartment not long after six O' clock. It had already got dark so we were able to catch them all unaware. Richter went through the back way with Schultz and Walter broke down the front door. I followed him to the living room where Moore's slut sat..."

"Emily. Emily Moore, Major" Hans corrected confusing Dieter for a moment. "Continue."

"Walter shot Mrs. Moore in the face and she fell. Her son ran towards me out of the kitchen wielding a knife and I shot him. Meanwhile, Richter and Walter had dragged Charles from his bed and presented him to me."

"Did he beg for life? Did he cry when he saw his dead wife and son?"

"No sir. He was silent and stern. He only said one thing" Dieter cast his eyes to the fire once more.

"which was Major?"

"Long live the king."

Hans began to laugh violently almost choking. He wiped tears from his face as he composed himself, watching Dieter's awkward expression created by this fit of laughter. The fire cracked loudly and like he would a dog, Hans tossed it another log to feed on.

"I apologise Dieter. Your story is so matter-of-fact and that ridiculous insert from Lord Moore really tickles me. Isn't it funny how when all is lost he does not think of his children but of a country that has failed him? You were saying."

"I shot him once in the head sir."

"and what of the girl? Annabelle is it?"

Dieter paused. He was uncomfortable being rigid for so long. His leather boots were hot from the fire and the smell of calf skin turned his stomach as he explained how after he had raped her, Annabelle Moore had smashed a china lamp over his head and run for her life. It was too dark for them to hunt her down but she was only a girl. A petite seventeen year old with no papers and obvious English accent could never disguise herself even when speaking fluent French.

"Well Dieter, I should have guessed you would ultimately act on your primal instincts but on a positive note, the Lord is dead which is what the Führer intended and the British government will know to fear us Germans. As for Annabelle, she will be caught and killed, even if I have to carry out the deed myself. Now if you do not mind Major, I will retire to bed."

"Goodnight sir" The chair released him with a reluctant pull. "Heil Hitler."

Hans waved him off not returning the salute bringing his glass of milk to thirsty lips.