Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with Valkyrie. I'm simply interpreting an interpretation of real men in a real situation. I'm not going to make any money off this.
Author's Note: After seeing the film, my friend Acey Dearest and I were talking about doing introspective character pieces. I forget which of us said that Olbricht would be good for them, but one of us did. This isn't the initial idea, but here's something anyway.
In The Eyes
"Look them in the eyes; they'll remember you." The younger man told him. He wanted to shout or scream or shake him. He wanted to tell him it didn't matter if they remembered him, that this had all been in vain, that the fear he had held in his heart of this very moment had been rightly kept. And yet, the younger man said the words with such conviction and assurance that even had he been given the time to speak, he still couldn't have expressed the sentiment.
As they dragged him forward, the spotlight shining brightly enough that the cold sweat on his brow shone softly. The fear was still apparent in his eyes; his pupils had a wild look, as he still cast them about for any sign that he might be able to escape, though he knew the action was futile. His shoulders were hunched, making the tall man seem as cowed as he felt.
Still, something in the younger colonel's words reached a part of his heart, or his soul perhaps, as the guns leveled towards him. He exhaled, closing his eyes for a moment, as if reaching within himself to find some part of him that had lain hidden up until that point. As he opened them, he straightened his posture shakily, unable to keep the tremors from his body. He's no longer sure if the shakiness is because he's afraid of dying like this or if it's something far different now - that they'll remember him hunched down, looking every inch as fearful as he possibly could. If these men were to remember him, then he would not be remembered as a coward who couldn't look his own death in the eye if he could prevent it. Especially not when someone younger, and with much more to live for, could - and he knew that the Colonel would, and therefore, so would he.
And so he looks head on, the fear still present in his features, but now steadied and backed by a look that says underneath the mask of fear he had let take over long before this night, that he had never lost his conviction. He had never doubted the morality, but that he had simply given into the fear that he found logical. His eyes speak a volume of things, not least among them that though afraid, he knows he was right.
And silently, he hopes and prays the Colonel will be right and that he will not be forgotten.
---
That night was ten years ago for Rolf. And even now, he wakes some nights seeing their faces, hearing the gunshots and the bodies crumple, and even Colonel Stuaffenberg's shout of "Long live our sacred Germany" the moment before he died. But most of all he remembers the eyes of an older man, holding back fear and something else - something that though akin to courage, was not the same thing - something more like surety. Rolf doesn't know what it was, why those two men looked at him, or what it means.
All he knows is that he remembers them because even when the bullets raced towards them they didn't blink. He thinks that maybe, one day, he'll be able to forget the sounds of that night, but somewhere in his heart, he knows that the sight of General Olbricht's eyes, fearful and yet not at the same time, will never leave him.
He knows it because he's tried to forget. He knows because he can't remove the image of the man who, even as he died, looked him in the eyes.
Author's Note: I originally conceived of this as being first person, but when I started writing it came out in third. I'm not sure it works, but I do like the part at the end. The swap from past tense to present is intentional when 'he' becomes Rolf rather than General Olbricht. Also, the name Rolf is taken from the Sound of Music, by the way. I was having issues thinking of a name for this guy, so I turned to my favorite musical.