Hi, so here is another chapter, the next two will take place entirely in Jon's point of view and then for the final five we go back to Liesl and Brigitta. The next two chapters and this one sets up some action that will take place in a sequel that is rapidly being developed as we go along.

This chapter does deal with the Holocaust. Please be aware if that contains some TRIGGER WARNINGS.

Disclaimer-Nothing here is mine of Jon and now introducing Nicholas Heath who will become a major character in the sequel to this story in case it isn't obvious.

And there are now only seven more chapters left! The end is almost in sight.

Please Read and Review.

A Sister's Love

Chapter 23-Hate Is Hate

It's 1945 and Europe is slowly being liberated. Jon in his new post comes across something so utterly horrific that it stuns everyone around him and meets a girl that reminds him rather terribly of his wife.

1945.

It was hard to believe sometimes that they had been doing this since 1939. It was hard to believe sometimes that this was the second war that had happened in the space of forty years. Jon had never been a big believer in philosophy or philosophical questions but he had to admit that he wondered just how many creative ways were left for human beings to kill each other.

He had gone from Australia to London and then there had been a sudden rush after D-Day for any and all German speaking officers. There had been a sense that now they'd finally managed to get a decent foothold in France the Allies could sense that a the wind had changed and the people who had been occupied for so long would be gagging to help and so therefore anyone who spoke German or French or even Russian was sent to the front as an Intelligence Officer and hopefully you got some decent information out of the POWs before you shipped them off to God knows where or you…you know…killed them.

Jon had ended up with some American unit.

Actually as far as it went it was not bad. The Americans were a lot more easy going than the Brits (not that they were bad it was just everything they said about that stiff upper lip was actually true), they got the job done without any fuss and quite frankly they were a lot more entertaining. There was always more cigarettes as well and as they had gotten into the winter of 1944 Jon would have sold his soul along with his backside for a decent cigarette just so he could have something to do other than freeze his bollocks off.

He had made a vow to himself somewhere between Belgium and a German offensive that could flatten everyone and anything it came across—if he got out of this alive then he was never going to complain about Australian weather ever again. In fact if he was going to bask in it because the cold in Belgium had seemed to seep into his very bones and even now as the weather began to slowly, slowly turn he was still struggling with it. He didn't feel like it would ever come out of him and he knew that on bad nights he would always remember the cold.

Intelligence was few and far between as well. They had liberated the Netherlands at the end of 1944 and the Dutch population had been thrilled. Most of the countries had, they had hated Nazi rule and had in some places created a very good line of resistance. Sympathises were either shot on sight or simply thrown out but their jubilation was hard to forget whenever they saw an American, or a Brit or someone, anyone who could rip down that fucking flag and put a new one in place. The Soviets had dominated most of the East and had thrown the Germans out of their land with a brutality that was almost unnerving. Poland was soon to be within the Soviet Union's grasp and Jon had a very strong feeling that they were not going to give it back. In fact, had he have the time to worry then he would have worried about all of the Balkans because it was clear that there was going to be some kind of payment for the Russians and he was honestly not sure if anyone had the strength or the energy enough to stand against them.

And it was just the Germans now, with the death of Mussolini the Italians, (the ones that had been loyal anyway) had crumbled like a pack of cards. The Allies had invaded Sicily and were moving their way up to Rome so that just left the Germans to contend with.

After Belgium he had been repatriated to France to deal with some resistance members who were desperate to overthrow German rule especially out of Paris, he was good at the communication and anyone with half a brain could type up a report and give it his superiors but what he found he was being used for was to check if the information was correct and then if it was it was being used for either propaganda or intelligence to launch counter offensives. He had just come off a rather nasty mission that had seen him loose three of his agents when he was dragged back to Germany where the Americans had broken through and told that there was a place he had to go near Landsburg am Lech and he had to get their fast as time was off the essence.

"I've arranged a transport in two hours" his commanding officer had said as Jon had thrown some of his stuff into a bag. "You better hit the ground running son as well, I've heard some reports come out of that place from General Taylor, he wants everything documented, everything on record and then he wants it released to the press—I don't know what's going on but if he's ordering that then it must be something significant, it's not just you, anyone who can speak German is being sent down there"

"Who have they got there already Sir?" Jon asked slinging his jacket over his shoulders. "Would help to know if I know anyone"

"You don't"

"Sir—"

"Just some girl Van Braun, don't know much about her, she's American been working with the troops down there for some time. Apparently she went head first into a foxhole at the beginning of that Batstone debacle and she's been with them since."

"Is that a euphemism for something Sir?"

"I don't know, I personally liked it better when the woman just stayed at home and knitted socks for the war effort but she's apparently good and though she doesn't have a company as such a lot of the Airbourne are rather fond of her so don't do any grabby ass moves"

"I'm a happily married man Sir"

"Yes well…if I had a dollar for the amount of times I'd heard a soldier say that on his way to the brothel I'd be a rich man wouldn't I?"

And that was how he found himself shoved unceremoniously onto a truck and then thundering away towards Germany before he could realise he was actually going back to his father's country for the first time since he had left Australia.

Germany.

Suddenly now he was thinking about it his stomach felt clenched in knots.

He had never thought about going back there not even when he had enlisted but now it was getting clearer and clearer that Germany would for the second time end up losing the war. He had never thought about what he would do in that scenario because if he was being honest with himself there had been a period where it had looked like that was a hard thing to come by but now…

Granted Landsburg was nowhere near where his father had been if he was even there now and even if he did manage to get near Berchtesgaden or Berlin or wherever the upper echelons of the Nazi's were hiding out praying for the tide to change but there was something about being in the same country as his father and his sister again….

God Helena would be nearly sixteen.

He wondered had the reality of what the Nazi's were would have hit her yet or was the indoctrination still so strong? And more to the point he wondered what he would do if he came face to face with her again, face to face with his father again? Now after all this time with so much gone between them? What the hell was he supposed to do if that happened? The thought made him want to be sick and he swallowed fumbling with his smoke.

"It's alright" the driver said perhaps seeing his emotions and interpreting them as something different.

"Won't be long now"

Jon nodded though he was hardly listening.

He was lost in his own thoughts until he reached where he was supposed to be and then his own thoughts of his father and off his sister and off his wife (for Liesl always crept into his thoughts these days) were gone and something else replaced them.

Something beyond words.

Captain Nicholas Heath had worked hard for himself. He had gone through basic with the rest of the men and had earnt his commission on the front line and he was rather pleased to say he was happy with that. He had been career Army (or at least planning to be) even before the war had broken out and had been put in charge of the men of his company by a very competent major after it was clear the current captain was about as much use as water in a cracked jug.

But there were several things that came with responsibility, one was the death toll, the letters he had to sign that were increasing both mentally and physically and the fact that he was sure he was getting second degree lung cancer from all the smoke he was inhaling, the fact that his men thought at times he was a lunatic and…her…

Her. She. It. That. The thing that had fallen into his foxhole at one in the morning in the middle of December (nearly breaking his nose in the process) and who had not stopped being a pain up his backside since.

Okay it wasn't too terrible. She was good looking (read gorgeous) she was also intelligent as hell and clearly scared the Germans around her into fearing her and the Americans to respect her. In fact at the end of the third week when it was clear that she was with them for the duration, Nicholas was sure that every man in his unit would have happily fallen on a grenade for a smile.

He was not like that.

No…not…ok there had been that one time but a man was lonely out here after all. And even though the woman was stunning and intelligent and could hold her own (and that was a turn on for him all itself) he was so…so not interested.

Yeah that was what he kept telling himself.

But the problem was as they got to Landsburg he found he needed her.

They were being joined by another translator thank the Lord with more on the way apparently (not that he held out much hope of that with the standard Army red tape) but the truth was it was so shocking it was hard to turn away from the sight and greet the man who was also young, and…

Jesus Australian?

"By way of Germany" he said and it took Nicholas a second to realise he had spoken out loud.

"Sorry Seargent"

"It's alright Captain. Seargent Jon Van Braun reporting for duty. What are we looking at, my Captain didn't tell me much"

Oh God.

"Captain Nicholas Heath, Airborne and we came across this…camp…you see…most of them speak some form of German and we need…everything…anything you can get out of them. The guards left this morning and there's another camp at the railway station they took the woman too but…" he reached out and grabbed the other man's arm.

"Prepare yourself. Seriously. It's…it's beyond words"

The guy nodded and carried on walking and then stopped dead as Nicholas knew he would. He had done the same thing.

He had not thought much of one of his men running up to him to tell him they had found something and he didn't know what it was but they all had to see it. He had just come off another row with…well…and he had failed to see the terror that was in his men's face, the horror, the confusion and he had not understood it until he had seen the barbed wire fence and the living skeletons clinging to it.

That had been the only way to describe them for in Nicholas's mind they were not human, they were just bone and skin stretched so thin that they looked as if they were part of another world. He had ordered his men to open the gate and some had scattered, some had fallen huddling as if they were afraid of being hit and then they had come out of little huts in the ground, crawling, staggering bent over as bellies were clapped to spines. One had saluted one of his men and another had hugged him, all over they were being touched as if they were miracles, the American liberators and Nicholas had felt sick to his stomach because he had seen much in this war but never something like this.

"What the fuck?" the Australian said quietly.

"What the fuck is this place?" he said again turning around. He had taken off his sunglasses and Nicholas could see that his eyes were very dark.

"Hell" he said shortly.

"I don't—"

"We don't either, I assume that's why you're here. We've got to get statements out of everyone here, I've got a team working on how the hell to get them food and water"

"And the dead?"

And the dead.

Well wasn't that a loaded question? What did they do with the dead, with the hundreds and hundreds of dead bodies that were thrown to the ground as if they were rubbish? What was he supposed to do with that? Innocent people taken from their homes, their wives and children as well and their dignity stripped away and left to die as if they were trash.

"I don't know" he said finally. "I've got my girl working on speaking to some people—"

"Who are they?"

"Ordinary people?"

"Yeah but—"

"Jews" he said simply. "Poles, Gypsies, couple of homosexuals, communists, but mostly Jews."

For a second they stood there staring at each other the horror in their faces. Both of them men who had, had lives before this started who had seen the utter horror of war and yet were still somehow shocked by it. There was no winners, no losers, nothing but lives ruined, people dead, places destroyed, countries annihilated and what had it been for? The ego of one man? One man's desire to stretch his country into places where it did not belong and the entire world had been forced to pay the price and here it was bringing them down to earth, the American and the Australian both of them from other sides of the earth, in a sharp crashing moment.

"I don't—"

"You can't understand it. You just listen to it"

That was the truth of it after all, all of it from the marks on the arms of the dead branded like cattle to the ones that were still alive. There was nothing to do but offer what little help they could and record it because Nicholas was willing to bet at some point, somewhere someone was going to stand here and say that this didn't happen and he wanted proof, he wanted to the world to see proof because this…this…right here and now was what they were fighting for, so that things like this never, ever happened again.

"Whose that?"

He knew who Jon Van Braun was pointing at even with his eyes closed.

"That's our translator, she fell into my foxhole and no that's not a joke. She's been with us ever since technically on loan from the Office of Strategic Operations. She's good she's just…a nightmare"

To be fair he couldn't blame Van Braun from looking at him.

"She's with you?"

"Not like that" he snapped. "She's with the unit. And don't try anything"

"Wasn't planning too. I'm a married man she just…I don't know…"

Nicholas was beginning to feel very annoyed and for reasons he couldn't understand why.

"Seargent can you please get on with your job. I need to get these people food and water and I don't have time for you to be distracted"

"Yes Sir…hey Sir?"

"Yes Seargent?"

"She got a name?"

Nicholas sighed. In truth she did have a name and she had a rank but…

"Louisa" he said finally. "Her name is Lieutenant Louisa Von Trapp"

And with that he pressed forwards back towards the hell that was this war and back towards the shocking, gut wrenching proof of what something so simple and yet so pointless as hate could do to another human being.

And there you go, I hope you enjoy this chapter and I will do my best to bring you the next one sooner rather than later.

Next Chapter-Jon meets Louisa as they attempt to deal with the aftermath of what they found in Germany as the advance deepens and word hits the front of line of Hitler's suicide.