A/N: Hello! Chapter six, as promised! Now, a few things: first, I apologize to any German speakers - I used Google Translate for this. I tried to do my best, but my second language is Spanish, so there may well be errors. Also, if you have a better idea for formatting between languages, let me know! Secondly, I know how my readers like that Ella isn't stereotypically violent and brutish, but she is still a Basterd, and there was a reason she was chosen for this Special Ops group. Just something to keep in mind.

Over the next two weeks, Ella got to know the new recruits, and the atmosphere in the group relaxed. They weren't just soldiers, they were friends. Wicki was another Corporal, same as Ella, an Austrian who made it out of Europe just in time to become an american citizen. He and Ella were the only ones that were fluent in German. Utivich was sort of shy for a army man, and sweet, but he was a crack shot, and unbelievably stealthy. Hirschberg was sometimes jumpy, Omar could be a little dim, then Kagan, Zimmermann, and Sakowitz...they all were part of her unit. They all had a personal vendetta against the Nazis. And they were very good at making sure the Nazis knew it.

"All right, boys," Aldo said, almost a week since they had been dropped into the woods of France. "First raid is tomorrow. Three miles from here, a German troop is comin' through, and we're gonna be there to meet them. Ella and Wicki, meet me in my tent. You too, Donny."

The three of them followed Aldo back to his tent. Donny had shown his true colors when they ran into a Nazi deserter - his bat, the one he had shown Ella the day after they met, had landed on the Nazi's skull a total of twelve times. Omar had winced, but Ella had stared with rapt attention. She had only known him for a week, but she had never thought that much anger could come out of one man all at once. He said it was the first one he was able to hit since he was with his old regiment, which convinced General Alexander that he should be transferred. Next time Donny took a bat to a Nazi, Ella would be less taken aback and more able to cheer him on.

"Tomorrow's raid is where we start to make a name for ourselves," Aldo said. "For each raid, we let one man go. I'm gonna mark him." He held up his huge Bowie knife. "Somethin' they can't ever take off. We're gonna scare the living shit out of those Krauts. Donny, you're gonna have a big hand in that. Wicki, I'll probably need you to translate. Ella, you be my smart little girl and go all psychological on 'em. I'll let you figure out how on yer' own. Wicki, I'm gonna ask you to go over the maps with Utivich, so the two of you can be on point. We're gonna be wakin' up before dawn, so make sure they get good sleep tonight. I'll be in here if you need me."

"Study your French, Aldo," Ella said as the soldiers left the tent. He huffed at her back.


Utivich and Wicki were a quarter of a mile ahead, just as light started filtering through the trees. None of the soldiers were wearing uniforms - just an assortment of camo-colored green jackets and pants. Ella had on dark green swing pants, belted high at her waist, with a dark khaki shirt tucked into her belt. Over that was an olive green wool jacket, and to ward off the cold, a pair of black gloves and a black scarf. Her tall boots were laced up high and tight. She had gotten up a little earlier than the men and and french-braided her thick black hair. This was what she'd been waiting for. Her rifle was in her arms as she followed Aldo and Donny, weaving through the thick trees as silently as possible.

"Hunker down," Aldo whispered. Ella held a fist up above her shoulder and dropped to a crouch, the men behind her following the signal. Now they were to wait for Wicki's signal. Ella could hear her heart pounding in her chest and hoped that it was only in her ears.

A minute later, what sounded like an owl echoed through the trees. One short hoot, and one long, followed by another short, two long, and one last short. AP in morse code - Wicki's signal that the marching Nazis were approaching. Aldo gave one wave forward, and the regiment started towards the road. They split into three groups, and each would flank the incoming German troop, estimated to be at about thirty men. Hidden, they would fire about twenty-seven down, and interrogate the rest, specifically leaving a ranked officer alive for information.

Soon after they were in position around the road, men in grey uniforms came into view. When they were directly in front of the group, the shots began. Ella took a deep breath between each shot, aiming for the head and hitting all four she went for. Being that nine of them were shooting, there weren't many to go around. Their guns raised, all except for Aldo and Donny rounded up the last four Germans and forced them to their knees, taking their guns and knives.

"Wilkommen in Frankenreich, Krauts!" Ella shouted. (Welcome to France, Krauts!) They had lined the German soldiers up just off the road, behind a smattering of trees. Omar and Kagan set about scalping the dead Germans, while Hirschberg, Sakowitz, and Zimmerman held guns on the live ones. Aldo stood behind Ella, watching, while Donny hid. He was probably warming up his arms. "Mein Name ist Ella. Wir sind die Basterds." (My name is Ella. We are the Basterds.) She and Aldo had decided on the name late last night. After running past Donny and Wicki, they told the rest of the men. Everyone was pretty satisfied with it.

"Sie haben uns noch nicht kennen," she continued. "aber bald, wird Ihnen sagen, ganz Deutschland, wer wir sind." (You do not know us yet, but soon, you will tell all of Germany who we are.) "Sie!" She pointed at the officer. "Sprechen sie Englisch?" (Speak English?)

The officer nodded.

"Then move. Front and center." She pointed to the ground in front of her. Zimmerman walked him forward and pushed him down again. Ella stepped aside for Aldo to take over.

"Like the corporal said, we're the Basterds. Now, Sergeant, we want information. Git me?" The German Sergeant slowly nodded again. Ella smirked at the terrified look on his face. This was exactly what they wanted.

"All right then. What I need from you is where you were goin', and when the next group is comin' through. Point out on this map where you were headed." Aldo opened a large map in front of the Sergeant, who violently started shaking his head no.

"You gonna say somethin or what?"

"I will not give away our positions. Nein."

"You sure? 'Cause we got some fun things planned for you if you don't."

The German's eyes widened. Ella's smirk grew. "Sprechen jetzt." (Speak now.)

Wicki and Utivich jogged up, returning from their spotter positions. The German Sergeant suddenly grew angry and spat on Aldo's boots.

"No need for that, now. This is your last chance, else I'll call my friend and we'll give your men a show."

The German crossed himself and closed his eyes, bowing his shaking head.

"Okay, then. Donny! You bring yourself over here. German Sarge ain't talkin."

Donny's heavy boots crunched on the dead leaves. He burst through the brush, his jacket gone, just wearing an undershirt and woolen pants with suspenders. His bat was in his hand. Ella saw all the scribbles from the signatures from people he loved along with people he hardly knew but had known the struggle of being a Jew in Europe. Those people whose names were on the bat were those he was fighting for.

Anger dark in his eyes, Donny reached down to the German's neck and yanked his dog tags off. "These are mine now," he said, stuffing them in his pocket. The trembling German kept his eyes on the ground, mumbling something in his native language. Wicki, who had moved up next to Aldo, translated for Donny.

"He is asking for mercy."

Donny put his bat under the soldier's chin and made him look up, in the eye. "No."

One powerful swing and the German was on the ground, convulsing. Blood splattered Donny and his bat, but he was not finished. He brought the bat down like an axe, cracking bones and obliterating the soldier's head. His next shot was at the ribs, and their cracks were even louder. Donny struck a few more times, the sweat beginning to glisten on his bare arms. The Americans whooped and hollered, cheering on their Sergeant.

One German Private decided he would take the opportunity to try and get past the Americans. He leapt up and stumbled for the gap between Ella and a huge oak, making for the road. Ella was ready for him. She smoothly sidestepped and pointed her rifle directly at his chest, stopping him as he ran into the barrel.

"Sie sind zu unterbrechen," she scolded. (You are interrupting.)

"Schlampe!" the Private spat.

He had hardly gotten the word out before Ella brought the butt of her rifle to meet his cheek - hard. All of the anger she held in from the remarks and whispers behind her back came out in that one swing. The Private fell to his knees, clutching his face. Knowing her men would have plenty of guns on this particular soldier, she dropped her rifle and unsheathed her stiletto knife. "Meinst du?" (You think so?) "Hold him," she said, and Donny was instantly behind the Private and holding him by his arms, droplets of blood still dotting his face. Ella knelt in front of the Private, brandishing her knife.

"Sagen Sie mir, Sie schätzen Ihre Finger? Ihre Zehen? Vielleicht sollte ich sie ausrotten." (Tell me, do you value your fingers? Your toes? Maybe I should cut them off.) She feigned thinking for a moment, tapping the blade lightly against her lips. "Oder vielleicht sollte ich Sie wie ein Tiger zu markieren. Sie wird als der Mann, der einen Tiger gemacht von einem polnischen Mädchen wurde bekannt sein." (Or maybe I should mark you like a tiger. You will be known as the man who was made a tiger by a Polish girl.)

He sputtered, a drop of blood appearing from the corner of the Private's mouth. He had lost his former confidence and he looked like a deer that was staring into the mouth of a wolf. Ella examined him a moment more, then sighed. "Nein, ich sollte dies tun, statt." (No, I should do this instead.) She grasped the Private's chin in her hand, slipped the blade into his mouth, and pulled it through his unbruised cheek. He let out a shriek and tried to thrash away, but Donny held him tight. Ella wiped the blade delicately on the fabric of her pants and stood up.

"Aldo, my dear, I will turn him over to you."

"Now, son, you gonna tell me what I need to know?"

The Private didn't understand. Wicki had to go over and translate, but Aldo got all the information he asked for with ease.

"Hirschberg, Sakowitz, kill those other ones. We'll let this one tell the rest who we are."

More gunfire, and the open-cheeked Private was the last German remaining. "Wölfin," he sputtered before Donny forced him onto his back and Aldo crouched over him. Ella hadn't heard that one before. She went over to Wicki.

"Wölfin?"

"She-wolf," he said. "He called you a she-wolf."

She shrugged. "Not bad. Better than Schlampe."

Wicki nodded, looking on as Aldo marked the soldier. He was the most stoic person Ella had ever met - no one could read him. Ella was happy to know him, though. He was level-headed, and kept calm in any situation.

"All right," Aldo called to his men, standing up. The German Private was passed out on the ground, blood dripping his cheek and from the Swastika that was now carved into his forehead. "Let's high-tail it outta here."

A/N: Well...there it is. Another side to Ella. Thank you to my readers, you're the best!