Twilight of Dreams
Dietrich sat at a camp table strewn with the odds and ends of running a war. He had ordered his mobile office moved outside to take advantage of the slight breeze that signaled the end of another day of interminable heat and dust. This was his favorite time of day, when the sun plunged towards the horizon and the desert softened into pastel shades that lent it a timelessness and mystery. Today, however, the peaceful setting was at odds with Dietrich's mood. There should have been a maelstrom raging across the sky to match the bitterness and disillusionment that raged inside him.
How many sunsets would it take to obliterate the stain of Germany's iniquities that spread like a blight over the landscape, he wondered? He would have wept for shame, but had long since forgotten how. Dietrich was a good officer and he thought of himself as a good man, but he now realized that it was no longer be possible to be both.
His day had started with an interview with Major Karstadt, recently arrived from Berlin, and reportedly promoted and sent to North Africa by Hitler himself. The Major was short, balding and didn't look as though he had missed many meals. He was sweating heavily and Dietrich couldn't tell if his flushed complexion was due to sunburn or impending heat stroke. Karstadt had invited him to sit and had produced a thick pile of reports.
"Also, Herr Hauptmann, I understand that you are acquainted with a group called the Rat Patrol?" he had asked.
"Ja, Herr Major, I have had encounters with these men," he had replied, thinking that many of those reports were probably his attempts to explain how the Rat Patrol managed to operate with impunity behind German lines.
"Herr Hauptmann, this Rat Patrol must be stopped!" the Major pounded his fist on his desk for emphasis. "Of all the units in this desert, you seem to have the most success against these vermin. I want to know what you are doing right and the other commanders are doing wrong!
Dietrich could barely hide his surprise. If he were doing well, he shuddered to think of the depredations the Rat Patrol were carrying out elsewhere. He had always thought of the four men as his own personal nemesis and allowed himself some small satisfaction at the thought that other units were suffering as well.
"Herr Major, I…" he started, before the other officer cut him off with a wave of his hand.
"I want a written report on my desk within three days, Herr Hauptmann Dietrich, detailing the methods the Rat Patrol employs and how best to counteract those methods," he ordered. "Three days, Herr Hauptman."
Karstadt reached over and turned on his desk lamp. He peered at another stack of papers before looking up. "Dismissed, Herr Hauptmann!"
Dietrich stood and saluted. "Heil Hitler!"
As he turned to leave, his attention was caught by the Majors lampshade. It was leather, but there was a flaw in it, too regular to be natural. The major noticed his interest.
"You like my lamp, Herr Hauptmann? It was a gift from the Führer himself, courtesy of the commandant of Buchenwald," he boasted. "At least the skins of the cursed Jews are good for something, eh?"
Dietrich saw that the flaw in the leather was actually a tattooed number. Horror flooded through him as he realized where this lampshade had come from. He had heard rumors, of course, but this... The Major was watching him closely, and he managed a grunt and walked normally to the door, closing it softly behind him. Thankfully, the toilet was only a few doors down the hall and he managed to lock the door before heaving his breakfast into the dingy yellowed bowl.
Dietrich realized that his aide was addressing him. The sun had long since set and the air was chill. Dieter had placed a gas lamp on the table and was holding out a jacket.
"It is growing cold, Herr Hauptmann," he said. "Herr Hauptmann?" his tone was anxious. "Is everything all right?"
The man was frightened, Dietrich thought, very probably by the strange way his commander had been acting all day. In fact, the entire camp seemed unusually subdued. Dietrich cursed himself silently. He was responsible for these men and their safety. He would not falter in that duty, at least.
"Ja, Dieter, everything is fine. I just had something in town that disagreed with my stomach" He willed a confidence he no longer felt into his smile. "Would you please bring me a cup of coffee. I'd like to sit out here and enjoy the evening."
A reassured Dieter snapped to attention. "Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann, right away," he replied, heading for the mess tent.
A falling star streaked across the night sky. He didn't bother to make a wish. Somewhere in the darkness an animal howled.
Hans Dietrich had never felt so alone in his life.
