I had learned of the assassination attempt against Hitler much like any other member of the Wehrmacht had. Vague stories had begun to surface: Earlier that afternoon, a bombing had occurred, with the Fuhrer as the intended target. Those rumors soon gave way to rampant speculation and anxiety.

Early reports stated the Fuhrer had been killed, in an East Prussian conference room, along with several others of his senior staff. Those stories were almost immediately followed by reports of Hitler's survival. None of us knew what to believe. I doubted the announcers themselves knew.

Since he had begun his rise to power, there had been reports of several attempts against Hitler. Many of them I knew to be true. Others had likely been created by his propaganda team for no other purpose other than inflating his popularity.

I had little time and even less patience for such nonsense. There were more immediate military issues requiring my attention. Six weeks earlier, the British and Americans forces had landed in France, and the Eastern Front was rapidly collapsing. My days were long, comprised of little else than constant combat. Sleep was a rare luxury, limited to the few precious hours I could snatch whenever and wherever I could.

It wasn't until late evening when I began placing credence to the rumors. News of a failed coup in Berlin has also surfaced. The capital had been locked down, secured by troops loyal to the Fuhrer.

Upon hearing the latest news, I forced myself to acknowledge there could be some truth to the latest accounts. This attempt had been more serious than previous ones and from the sounds of it, it had come the closest to succeeding.

It would need to go beyond just killing Hitler. Assassination alone would accomplish little. Success would only be assured if his entire inner circle was also eradicated including Goring, Goebbels and Himmler. If even just one of them survived, he would merely assume the Fuhrer's role, continuing Hitler's insane pursuit of power and domination.

When Hitler himself broadcast he was alive, it was after midnight. I instantly recognized the harsh voice confirming the attempt had failed. There was no doubt. Hitler was still the leader of Germany. He rambled on for several minutes before naming the lead perpetrator as Claus Graf von Stauffenberg, an Oberst in the Heer. Von Stauffenberg had been quickly captured and executed for his treachery.

I knew von Stauffenberg slightly from our joint service in North Africa. He had seemed a good man and a capable officer. Von Stauffenberg would not, and could not, have acted alone. Other officers must have been involved, probably high ranking ones. As if reading my thoughts, Hitler elaborated how von Stauffenberg had been assisted by other treacherous Wehrmacht officers. Shortly, he would be joined in death by the others who had dared to commit such a treasonous act. Hitler promised anyone involved would be dealt with harshly by the Reich.

My heart seized for my fellow officers.

The Nazi leaders had never had a warm relationship with the Wehrmacht. It would now turn into a profound distrust bordering on hatred. Anyone remotely suspected of participating in the coup would be ruthlessly rounded up, convicted during mock trials and executed immediately afterwards.

Not long after the attempt, all Wehrmacht members were forced to re-swear their service oath to Hitler. The act was to prove our loyalty, but even more so, to force us to acknowledge our submission to Hitler.

I was insulted to have to pledge my loyalty a second time. I had willingly sworn my oath directly to Hitler in 1934, when he had attended my Academy class' graduation ceremony. I had always respected my oath, my honor alone preventing me from breaking it. While I had come to loathe Hitler and the National Socialists, I would continue to stand by my vow until Nazi Germany fell and Hitler was no longer in power.

Further insult and subordination was demanded of the Wehrmacht when we were ordered to use the Nazi salute instead of our traditional military salute. I despised the gesture.

I had always avoided it whenever possible, only giving it when I knew my superior officer expected it, or the situation demanded it. Thankfully, most of the officers to which I had reported were traditionalists and shared my belief regarding the bastard practice. Many of us continued using the military salute discreetly, defying the order. A few of my subordinates would present the Party salute, mostly the younger ones who had been indoctrinated at an early age, knowing of nothing else. I would vaguely wave off the Nazi salute, eschewing having to respond to it.

To avoid casting unwarranted suspicion on either them or myself in the following days, I purposely avoided any unusual interactions with my fellow officers. Soon afterwards, with a start, I remembered the conversation I had held with my leutnant, Rainer Hahn. The conversation had taken place when we had been ordered to Rhodes, preparing for our mission to abduct the boy Miles Simmons.

I chastised myself for not recalling it sooner.

Hahn had been against our mission to kidnap the boy and he had openly admitted his profound distaste for Hitler. He had then proceeded to vaguely mention Wehrmacht officers conspiring to kill Hitler and their plans to seize the government. Hahn's open admiration of their efforts had left little doubt he was obviously supportive of the conspirators and had admired their efforts.

It was critical for me to confront Hahn regarding his possible involvement or knowledge of this latest attempt, but I needed to do so without rising any suspicions from the authorities. When my unit was ordered to provide artillery support against the enemy, I seized the opportunity. I would be able to speak with Hahn privately, without raising suspicions from any officials or fellow soldiers.

Hahn had been ordered to call out artillery range coordinates against the enemy. It was a dangerous assignment, but he had an excellent eye for distance. It was a task I had frequently delegated to him in the past. Accompanying Hahn was a febel, who was noting the numbers for him. They were spotting from a remote ridge which provided a good line of sight against the far-flung enemy.

I informed my adjutant I would join Hahn to survey the battlefield conditions personally. I waved off his protests and made my way up the ridge. It was necessary for me to crawl the last several meters to avoid being seen by the Allied snipers.

Febel Franz Schmidt was shocked at my appearance. I gave him a slight nod, not acknowledging his reaction. Unlike some officers, I was frequently on the front lines. My presence should have been a surprise to no one, especially the men who reported to me.

"Herr Major!" he stammered.

"Febel Schmidt, you may deliver the coordinates to the artillery teams," I ordered. "Inform them to immediately commence firing. I will remain here with Leutnant Hahn to confirm their accuracy and obtain any necessary revisions."

"I know you prefer being on the front line, Herr Major, but it is not safe for you to be this far forward. It won't be long before the enemy determines this location as the one responsible for spotting its positions," Schmidt said, attempting to dissuade me. "They will bring heavy fire upon this area to protect their armor."

"Agreed," I replied as I settled in. I brought my field glasses up, surveying the battleground. "Now, provide the coordinates to the teams before the enemy re-positions itself and they become irrelevant."

Schmidt gave me a resigned look and left without saying another word, crawling away on his mission.

I said nothing to Hahn for a few minutes, waiting for the German artillery to begin their barrage. Our privacy would be brief and I would need to make the most of it.

The German barrage soon opened with a mighty thunder. The shells flew above us and struck several of the enemy positions below. I shook my head in disbelief at Hahn's amazing accuracy. No other could call out coordinates with such precision.

There was a storm of activity below. The enemy would rapidly re-position themselves and seek to eliminate the German spotters. We would be forced to retreat soon.

I now believed it safe to address Hahn. It would be impossible for anyone to hear our words over the din of the bombardment. To ensure our confidentiality, I moved closer to him. Our bodies barely touched through our thin summer uniforms, but the innocent contact made my skin crawl. I very much wanted to move away from Hahn, but I forced myself to endure it.

"Tell me you were not involved in it," I ordered him in a low voice, not bothering to frame it in a question.

Hahn knew exactly what I was referencing; it wasn't necessary for me to elaborate. He began to turn towards me to respond.

"Don't look at me," I told him without taking my eyes from the scene below me. "You are supposed to be confirming your coordinates, not looking at your commanding officer with a look of shock on your face."

Hahn quickly looked away, snapping his field glasses up to his face again. Both of us continued to intently survey the battlefield in front of us.

"I have been waiting for you to approach me on this subject, Herr Major. I knew you would eventually remember our conversation on Rhodes," he responded, his voice shaky.

"I needed to wait for the right opportunity to avoid suspicion against the both of us. Now I am still waiting for an answer," I demanded. "I must know the truth so I can immediately act to save you if possible."

"No, Herr Major," Hahn stammered. "I am in no way involved."

I relaxed at his reassurance, but I found it necessary to press him.

"Did you have any knowledge of it? Those who knew of it and did nothing to report it will be treated just as harshly, if not more so, as the participants."

Hahn paused before slightly shaking his head.

"You hesitated before answering," I pushed him. "Why?"

He was still looking forward like he was studying the bombardment. "I knew nothing of this attempt."

I was not expecting such a response. My stomach knotted. "What do you mean by 'this attempt'? Mein Gott, Hahn! Of how many others were you aware?"

I heard the incoming whistle of an Allied shell. I knew it would fall far short. The both of us mentally dismissed it and did not move. The Allies were testing the range themselves with their own spotters. We were still safe for the moment.

"I knew of one of the earlier attempts," Hahn responded. He then quickly added, "But just vaguely, nothing exact."

Hahn's poor situation was rapidly becoming worse.

"Which attempt?" I asked.

"I heard talk of an assi. . ."

"I believe it would be best for the both of us if you did not use that particular word," I interrupted, silencing him. We were far forward and I doubted anyone was within earshot of overhearing him, especially with the artillery fire, but I wanted to take no chances. We could be unaware of another soldier approaching within the last few minutes to deliver a message.

"I overhead talk of 'action' when I was in Paris."

"When?"

"It was the 21st of May, 1941," he answered immediately. "I have never forgotten the date."

The enemy was on the move below. Another incoming shell announced itself and I knew it would be much closer than the last one. We both flattened ourselves against the ground. It landed behind us, spraying up dirt and rocks. Yes, the Allies must have determined our location as the German spotters. They would attempt to take out both the artillery and us at the same time. Our remaining time would be brief.

"And how did you become aware of it?" I asked.

"I was in Paris on leave. I had drunk too much and passed out in the closet of my hotel room," he said. From the corner of my I could see his look of embarrassment. "I woke up early in the morning when I vaguely became aware of voices in the adjoining room. I could only catch part of what they were saying since the water was running. I heard them talk about a plot to shoot the Fuhrer at a parade, but the parade had been cancelled. They weren't sure of what to do next. I was too scared to move so I stayed in the closet without making a sound until they checked out the next day."

Another shell landed near us and both of us ducked down again into the dirt. They were hitting a little too close for comfort. The enemy was finding its range against us.

"It appears the Allies know we are here. Leutnant, recall the coordinates and I will mark them for you," I ordered him calmly. I brought out my field notebook and a pencil.

Hahn began calling numbers with a shaky voice.

"Who were these men?" I continued.

Hahn shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, but they sounded like Wehrmacht officers. 1928, 1313, 1955. . ."

"And how do officers 'sound' since you are also an officer?" I asked with a frown. I never thought of officers, including myself, as sounding different than any other soldiers.

"I don't know. Educated, cultured, well spoken? They mentioned troop movements, seemed to know more about the military situation than an average enlisted soldier. I wasn't an officer back then so I noticed," he explained. Hahn soon stopped calling the coordinates.

"Continue with the coordinates, Leutnant. The enemy is re-positioning themselves and our artillery will need the updated ranges. You never mentioned this incident when we had a similar conversation on Rhodes."

"1972, 1905, 1934." His voice was quiet. "I didn't want to implicate you, Herr Major. I hoped I would never have to think about it again. I just wanted it to go away."

"Well, it has very much remained. These types of things just don't 'go away.'"

The shells were now landing consistently near us, encircling us in a tightening range.

"Herr Major, the enemy must have pinpointed our position as the spotters for our artillery." Hahn sounded concerned and uneasy about the proximity of the shells. "We should move before they become too accurate. I don't think it will take them much longer for them to do so."

"I would agree with you," I answered, not willing to let it go so easily. "But, we will depart in a few minutes. We have not finished our conversation, nor updating the coordinates."

I thought for a moment. "If by some remote chance you are questioned, you are to state you spent the evening at Madame Rochelle's."

"Madame Rochelle's?" Hahn asked with a puzzled voice. "What type of place is it? Is it a tea café or coffee house?"

I sighed. Hahn was young, but I hadn't known he was so naïve. The type of establishment should be obvious given its name.

"A gentleman's entertainment venue," I attempted to explain without embarrassing him.

He immediately understood and colored anyway. "Herr Major!" he sputtered and turned to look at me again despite my previous warning. "I can only imagine what type of women work there and how they earn a living! What would my mother say if she thought I had been to such a place?"

It was on the tip of my tongue to say she would believe him to be a normal and healthy young man enjoying his sexuality with a willing and adventurous partner, but I decided to save Hahn from further embarrassment.

"I believe she would think little of it to ensure the survival of her son's life," I said instead. "For the record, you spent the evening being entertained by a talented brunette named Sabine. Beautiful, tall, slender, but with curves. . ." I said with a slight grin, remembering the Frenchwoman.

Ah, yes! I clearly remembered the lovely Sabine and the numerous pleasurable evenings I had spent with her while I was stationed in Paris.

I could vaguely hear Hahn asking me a question, pulling me from my pleasant recollections.

"Repeat yourself, Leutnant."

"I said, do you still need the coordinates, Herr Major?"

"Um, yes," I responded, realizing my face was slightly flushed. "Continue calling them."

"Next round: 1984, 1979, 1964. I could never afford a place like Madame Rochelle's, even now. Back then I was still an enlisted man. They wouldn't have even allowed me to walk through the back door," he countered.

"State you saved your pay for it, as a special treat for your first visit to Paris and for your birthday. Trust me, you would have been admitted if you had possessed money." Even the devil himself would have been admitted. The French had made the most of Germans who had any money in their pockets.

The rocks and dirt continued to spray up around us. Our remaining time was down to a few moments at the most.

"Herr Major, I strongly suggest we should vacate our location before we are both killed," Hahn said.

"Not yet. The shelling is not yet too bad."

Hahn began to protest, but remembered the alibi I had established for him. "But my birthday is in September!"

I started to become exasperated. "Work with me, Leutnant."

Hahn colored even deeper and looked at me again, temporarily forgetting the shelling. "But how could Fraulein Sabine remember me if I was never with her? Don't you think the Gestapo will ask her to confirm my story?"

"The Allies will be retaking Paris within the month. Locating a whore from four years ago will be the least of Germany's concerns. However, you should be prepared in case the Gestapo does make it a concern of theirs. You must be able to provide a name and a place."

We were silent for several seconds. I could sense Hahn's anxiety increasing, from either the shelling or the conversation. Probably both.

"It is unlikely the officers in the other room were aware of your presence. I seriously doubt you will be questioned by the Gestapo after such a length of time has passed," I said, attempting to reassure him. "But," I continued, "The officers could have suspected someone was eavesdropping on their conversation. They would not hesitate to give you up in the hope of saving themselves. If they should do so, the authorities will now leave no stone unturned to settle all past scores and suspicions. The key is for you to remain casual and not sound rehearsed if you are questioned."

"Thank you, Herr Major, for assisting me," Hahn sighed with relief. "I've kept this bottled up inside for so long. I have always been afraid I would somehow be discovered."

"Have you mentioned this to anyone, even to a priest? A family member?"

"No, never," Hahn reassured me. "I was too scared and I didn't want anyone else to become involved."

"See to it that you don't. There is an advantage to being afraid. It keeps one alive."

The shelling was now becoming heavier. Soon they would bring up a sniper to eliminate us.

"Alright, Leutnant. I have the coordinate information we need. It is critical for us to deliver them to the artillery teams. We may depart now before your overheard remarks from long ago are taken care of for you by the enemy."

I started to crawl backwards when Hahn stopped me with a gentle touch on my forearm. Involuntarily, I jerked back from his contact, turning to see what he wanted.

"Herr Major?" Hahn glanced around to ensure no one could hear us. It was obvious he wanted to ask me a serious question. Expecting for Hahn to continue confessing, my tenseness increased.

"Yes, Leutnant?" I asked without displaying my uneasiness.

"Was Sabine really beautiful," he asked and hesitated before continuing, "and. . . Talented?"

Hahn's question caught me unaware. Generally, I kept my personal life firmly closed to my men, separate as it had always been from duty. This time, I relented.

As I took in his eager face, I slowly grinned.

"Yes, Leutnant, she was," I responded truthfully. "Very much so on both accounts. You would have enjoyed her company very much."

Thankfully, nothing came from Hahn's having overheard about the failed Paris attempt.

The Gestapo and SS rounded up and executed thousands of suspects. Some were probably real, but others were likely implicated in order to even past Nationalist Socialist scores. Hahn was never approached and gradually, his hunted look faded.

I began to relax, believing the worst was over.

But just when I believed the assassination storm had passed, it touched one of those around me for a second time.