"We are resorting to guerrilla warfare."

Everyone was instantly all-ears and on high-alert at their CO's announcement.

Someone at the front of the room called out, "But you said that, if Hitler died, we would surrender and end the war." There were scattered murmurs of agreement.

He met their protests calmly, standing straight with his hands behind his back. "Think of it in a poetic sense," he replied; some of the men snickered. They were soldiers, after all, and most hadn't exactly loved poetry in school. "One last stand. I'll admit, as much as it pains me to say it, we have lost this wretched war and there is no regaining the high ground, so to speak." His gaze swept over the soldiers in his care, "But we can at least go out fighting, in a blaze of glory."

Emilie had to say something, make her voice heard. She stood up, raising her voice over the racket. "Isn't this just risking more lives unnecessarily?" It was more of a statement than a question, and everyone fell silent, turning to look at the defiant medic who was once again in full uniform. "If we surrender, we will, if they can be trusted, be given safe passage and merely stay in a POW camp until we are allowed to return home. It doesn't sound entirely glamorous, granted, but—"

"Surrendering is for cowards," her CO cut her off, eyes clearly willing her to sit back down and remain silent, so as not to plant seeds of doubt in the men's minds.

"I understand that!" she snapped, picking her way through the crowd of seated German soldiers. They were all watching her intently. Emilie stopped right in front of her ranking officer, glare daring him to order her back to her seat. "But, as medic, I find it my duty to point out the huge, gaping flaw in your plan that could endanger, oh, I don't know," She pretended to think about it for a second, "Maybe the whole company?"

He shook his head, turning away from her. "This entire war has endangered the lives of the entire company, sergeant Demont."

Emilie darted in front of him, not letting him get rid of her that easily. "That was when we needed to fight, when we needed to die," she insisted, standing up on her tip-toes as though that would make it easier to get through to him, "Now we would be doing our home a favour if we surrendered and stopped the fighting once and for all." She heard some men behind her agreeing. "Perhaps you're scared to let go of the power, hm?"

"Nonsense," he spat, eyes wild for a moment before he let out a sigh and collected himself, pressing his palms together in what looked like an effort to find calmness. He continued more steadily. At least she now knew how to hit a nerve with him. "Sergeant, this will be the final time that I politely ask you to return to your seat." She opened her mouth to interrupt, but he held up a finger to silence her. "And don't be fooled by the kindness of my words. This is not a request."

She had so much more to say. This was a huge mistake, a monstrous, gargantuan fuck-up. But she knew there was nothing she could possibly say that could ever change his mind; besides, her place in the army after killing Eberhardt was still tentative at best. Either way, she would regret it, but it was best to have a front-row seat when everything went to shit, where she could at least attempt to help. So, like a snake recoiling after having prepared to strike, Emilie slowly backed away from him and reluctantly strode back down the aisle. She no longer had to wear her crutches, and so had forced herself to part with them.

Ordinarily, she would have left the meeting there and then, but she needed to know what was happening, so sunk back into her seat at the back of the room, sitting up as straight as she could manage, lips pursed, watching her CO as he explained what was going to happen to a less than willing audience.