--- 28th July, 1941 ---

Why couldn't she dispel him with a simple blue glow and angry look? Such things could easily scare off even the bravest of men, and she knew her hair had to be as silver as the mineral from which the color took its name, and her eyes a shade of crimson, but the world around her wasn't dyed that light tone of blue that was indicative of the flames. What had he done to prevent her from making him pay for the transgression he was currently in the process of committing, sending a constant pain throughout her body.

Any sane man would have heeded the warning of the red glow in her eyes, yet Adler forcefully continued – the delusional Austrian apparently thinking she consented with his action, which muffled cries protested, and before he'd started, kicks attempted to ward off. All of which now seemed to be in vain – ever since Alicia ended up in the 21st infantry regiment, she'd suffered one blow to her once-high self-esteem, and now this. At one point – far back in France and west Germany, she once held the man committing this act in high regards.

As the pain of being separated from Welkin, as though with the serrated edge of a kitchen knife, was replaced with the pain of Adler's forced entry and the embarrassment resulting of her current situation, not at all aided by the man's seemingly pleasured screams and taunts, she considered many things. Routes with which to escape the cruel world formed in Welkin's absence, the best of which, at the moment, was to force her mind elsewhere – anywhere, even one of the 'camps' the Germans had set up – she heard very little of the camps, but it was easily better than what was happening at the moment.

A strange, yet familiar feeling indicated that – at least for now – Adler was finished humiliating her. Her mind remained in the happy elsewhere she'd put it – easily, this was the last thing she'd willingly think about.

Instead, her mind was filled with thoughts of a happy time, though whether or not it was a time gone by or simply her imagination was a fact she left unconsidered. Ties loosened, and she curled up into a ball, forcing her eyes shut, to block out the world – the gray inside of the Hanomag, the would-be SS Trooper, and the cold air of nighttime Russia.

The sound of the halftrack's rear door closing, and Alicia was left entirely alone. The halftrack's door didn't lock from the outside, but leaving the cold, angry gray confines of the machine was, at the moment, unimaginable. Despite what had transpired, and indications of it adhered to the floor, she felt the armor of the vehicle to be the only thing protecting her from the outside world – a world which she now felt had it in for her, seeking nothing short of her total humiliation and psychological meltdown.

He'd succeeded, though. Adler had broke her.

Still mainly exposed to the cold air and frigid inside of the personnel carrier, Alicia felt a second feeling of warmth: a tear forming in her eye. The saltwater trickled down her cheek, eventually running its way down her exposed self.

The sound of the door opening again would have put her on edge, if the voice accompanying it wasn't a calm female voice with a English accent. The one person she could possibly consider to be any resemblance of a friend.

"Bitte... hilfe mir..." The words came to Catherine's ears, the scared tone almost that of a scared child than of Hitler's personal propaganda weapon.

"Alicia! what... what happened?" Catherine's calm voice as stricken with pure horror, seeing the scene before her. She hopped into the vehicle, and quickly set about both finding some way to comfort Alicia, and give her a little bit of her dignity back. "Who's the bugger who's responsible for this?"

Alicia remained silent – while she wanted desperately to just blurt out, "Adler did it!", there was little knowledge that Catherine would actually understand who Adler was. Removing a lump in her throat, her eyes met with the sniper's, prompting a confused response from the marksman, as the young would-be baker suddenly wrapped her arms around her.

"Bitte, Cazherine... Ich will nicht..." Alicia struggled to find good words – even words which Catherine couldn't understand – to say.

"Alicia – who did this? I can't do anything to help you, if you don't tell me."

Again, Alicia removed a lump from her throat. "Adler... Adler hat diese gemacht..."

The name 'Adler' wasn't entirely unfamiliar. "Adler..." the pale skin woman mused, before suddenly coming to a realization. "Adler – you wouldn't happen to mean Mann Drechsler, would you?"

Alicia didn't know what she had meant – all she knew as that she was in a confused, unclear state.

Catherine had to work with an assumption. "I thought I'd seen that bloody SS officer before – now I know where!"

Alicia clung to Catherine, not wanting her to leave. Her dignity was gone, any resemblance of the life she wanted was shattered, and now the only thing the brunette had was Catherine.

"Alicia – let go! I can't help you when you're practically attached to me!"

"Nein... bitte, geht nicht..."

Catherine sighed – this was worse than a child.

"Alicia, please, I...!" Catherine was dyed a shade of red at Alicia's next action.

--- 31st Mechanized Infantry Regiment, Army Group 'South' ---

Isara was wary towards the stand-in for Welkin. Udo Sankt – the man who'd also managed to get Welkin drunk in weeks prior – was filling in for Welkin, and also commanding his own company. While it wasn't his command abilities she doubted, his... 'affinity' towards the women of Company C made her wonder if he was the right man for the job. His expressed interest in many of them (particularly the redheads) lead her to conclude that they should have just used Klink rather than Sankt. Klink, at least, wasn't so easily distracted by many a youthful girl.

It didn't concern her – other things did. Bieber recently attempted to get leave for her, as a gift of sorts – he wanted to take her sightseeing in Paris. Failing that, he'd instead elected to simply stay near her – the joke-excuse was that 'someone had to watch her', though that was more so for everyone else's sake rather than his or her own.

A smile came to her face – thoughts of the night prior were still fresh in her head, and they'd kept her going all day, in just as cheerful of a mood as she could get. He – unlike many other people she knew – looked past a the dark-colored hair to see what he considered to be the perfect person.

The night prior was certain proof of this – while Isara would have occupied her time making small adjustments to the Panzer IV before, she did something vastly different – though there was joking that Hans had finally stepped up the relationship, in reality he was far too timid for any such thing. Rather, he'd found a nice secluded clearing far enough from the night's camp for them to be unheard unless they needed help.

---The night prior---

Hans looked up at the sky, a small campfire having been formed, casting enough light to see each other. His hand was draped over her shoulder, a pulling the head of blue-colored hair close. The dying embers of the flame cast an orange-red light across the drowsy Darcsen's figure, and they both ignored the occasional jovial call from the main camp.

"Hans?" Isara asked softly.

The Southerner turned his head, so as to look into the pair of blue eyes he'd grown so fond of. "Yes, Is?"

Her reply wasn't vocal. The dying fire provided what seemed to be the perfect light – though, it prevented anyone from seeing Hans' face redden slightly. This kiss was unlike any of the ones prior, and he passively let her control the situation. That is, until she indicated that the kiss wasn't the end of it, at which point, he pulled back. The look on her face was easily that of confusion.

"What's wrong?" she asked, not expecting him to actually pull back.

"Nothing – at least, nothing you've done," was the response. "It's too risky – the last thing I want is, well..." He turned away, a bit embarrassed. "I... what if, I..."

She was surprised she didn't consider that – or perhaps she had, and disregarded it. "...Oh. I see."

Now that he'd brought it up, it did seem like a bad idea now. The battlefield was neither the place for child making or rearing, and there was a chance – a great chance, given the heavy losses suffered at the front as Germans marched for Stalingrad – that war could claim either of them.

"I would never stand for it – loosing you would be hard enough, but loosing you and a child?" Hans turned back to face Isara. "And... the other way around. I couldn't stand to get myself killed, and leave you to raise a child yourself."

She lowered he head. "So, later..."

"...much later, Is. Those are risks I won't take. Not with you, not with anyone."

Their views returned to the dying fire.

--- End chapter 37 ---

What am I thinking? I don't know. I can guarantee, though, I'm not high.

I don't think I'm making Isara to OOC in her relationship with Hans Bieber (remember the German who got his 38(t) K-O'd early in France?), and I will confess – I actually have a couple of author characters. The one more closely resembling me (in actions, at least) is Bieber. I can't ask a girl out (and often times she was taken anyway). Adler's my more... 'repressed' feelings, and actually a Russian I intend to have show up is going to also have my more gung-ho Combat attitude.

So, a little bit of me is in this story in more ways than one.