March 12, 1943, Midday, on a road between Hammelburg and Stalag 13

Erwin Rommel leaned into the plush back seat of his brand new Horch armored car, reveling for a moment in the pleasant coolness of Germany's climate. He ran a gloved hand over the soft leather and marveled anew at home's creature comforts. He would never again take such things for granted, not after Africa. I do wonder what is to become of me, he watched the green fields flowing by. Will I be shelved, or given a new command? The problem is, nothing is left to stop the enemy with, not since the air raids have intensified. Here and there he could see evidence of the Allied bombings, hollow shells of buildings, piles of rubble strewn on their foundations. It was a sad, lonely sight; only an occasional citizen was up and about, staring silently after his car. We are losing the war on both fronts. It's only a matter of time… The British must get here before the Russians, but we are stubbornly, foolishly resisting them.

He absently toyed with his peaked cap as he was driven further into Germany. Rommel had been ordered by Hitler to find a safe area to stay while he conducted business in Hammelburg. What place was safer from Allied bombs than a prisoner of war camp? To be sure, this Stalag 13 was a long drive from Hammelburg, but he had never minded lengthy road trips. He had never toured a German POW camp either. It might be interesting.

He straightened up and tapped the driver's shoulder. "Daniel, do you recall the name of Stalag 13's commander? It left me…"

The young man peered in his rearview mirror, met Rommel's inquisitive gaze. "Ja, Herr Feldmarshall, I believe it was… it was, uh, Flink-no-Klink. Colonel Wilhelm Klink is his name. He is with the Luftwaffe; Stalag 13 is a camp for Allied airmen."

"I see," Rommel's mind began to wander back to the front lines, back to Africa and his doomed Afrika Corps. Daniel watched him through the mirror with guarded concern. He had met the field marshal only recently, but he already felt protective of the convalescing Desert Fox. He thought of a way to distract Rommel from his troublesome ponderings; he would bring up every fact he could remember about the prison camp, which incidentally, wasn't much information.

"Did you know, Herr Feldmarshall, that Stalag 13 claims to never have had an escape?"

"Ja?" Rommel, ever perceptive, was amused. He knew what the young corporal was trying to do, and he appreciated it.

"Ja. They call this Klink the 'Iron Colonel.' He is a subordinate of General Burkhalter's."

Rommel frowned at that. The lean, stocky swabian detested the grossly overweight Burkhalter. He reminded him too much of the fat, foppish Goering. They certainly eat well in Berlin, while my men in Africa struggle to survive. I wish the Fuhrer would let me go back. He would never, Rommel knew, and so resigned himself to remain where Hitler would place him. Maybe Italy. That would be enjoyable for a change. He remembered one Italian in particular, a Major Bonachelli, a man with a mortal weakness for pizza. "General Burkhalter is in Berlin, correct?" He directed his question at the half-asleep Major Lang, who was blissfully slumped beside him.

"Wha- oh yes sir, he's in Berlin this week."

"Good." He wouldn't have to put up with the man's ceaseless chattering and boasting. "Major Lang?"

"Yes, Herr Feldmarshall?" The major was fully awake now.

"Keep an ear open for that overfed blimp. I don't want any surprise visits from him. He drives me crazy with his ridiculous propaganda, and I'm not sure I could take that well this week."

Lang grinned broadly. "You will have fair warning, sir."

"You are invaluable, Major," as Rommel turned back to watch the countryside, he could hear Lang chuckling into his scarf. The afternoon sun radiated its warmth through the windows of the car, almost forcing him to relax in spite of himself. The cheerful sunlight reminded him of his friend and former chief of staff. Bayerlein was now a Panzer commander in Russia, fighting the Russians and General Mud. Although uneager to go, and beset with uncertainty, the older man had accepted his new command on the Eastern Front without complaint. For your safety, your family's safety, he recalled Bayerlein's revealing words. Rommel understood that; his concern for Lucie and Manfred multiplied every day. Between Allied bombardments and Gestapo investigations, Germany wasn't safe for anyone anymore, not even a field marshal's family.

His sharp eyes caught sight of a weathered, wooden sign as it flashed by the car. STALAG 13 2 KILOMETERS They were almost at their destination. He took the time to smooth his hair, replace his cap, and slip on the brown leather overcoat. Although pleasantly cool in the vehicle, outside it was much too cold for his still-acclimating tastes. It had been a surprisingly warm March in Africa.

Major Lang also attempted to straighten himself up, muffling tired yawns as he did so. All he wanted today was a good bed for the night. Even off-duty, Rommel drove himself and his aides at an exhausting pace. He saw Corporal Daniel grinning at his disheveled state and glowered at the younger man. Enjoy your youth while you can, Corporal. He'll wear even you out eventually.

Daniel put on the brakes as he located the camp's entrance, a rough gravel road edged with evergreens and thick brush. A tall guardhouse stood by the main road, intimidating only until one realized it was vacant. Rommel sighed out loud at that. The first impressions of the camp left him wondering at its competency level, if one existed at all.

Daniel, having stopped the car beside the guardhouse, drove the car further down the gravel road. He didn't think much of the camp either and cautiously watched their surroundings. "We shall have to keep an open mind," he muttered. "But I don't see how. Escape free and no guards in the guardhouses?"

They turned a sharp right angle and finally saw the whole operation. It stretched several hundred feet in both directions, a tall fence of barbed wire and wood frame. The main gate was in the center. Rommel observed only one guard tower, but was gratified to see a guard within it, lazily eying the camp. Two more Germans were loitering by the front gate, laughing and talking. Rows of long, low buildings formed the majority of what he could see. Prison barracks, Rommel guessed.

Daniel pulled up to the gate and clambered out to speak with the guards. "I am Corporal Leighstat, driver for Feldmarshall Rommel. We were invited here by your Colonel Klink. Will you inform him of our arrival?"

Jahwohl, Herr Corporal," one private saluted nervously and scurried away; his companion hurried to a red and white striped shed to open the electronic gate. It swung inwards with a piercing squeak; Lang squelched a snort of derisive laughter.

"Open minds, Major," Rommel repeated as Daniel returned to the car. They pulled in through the gate and maneuvered up to the one building that flew Germany's Swastika. "We must meet this Colonel Klink before we pass judgment. Until then, open minds."

Open minds proved easier said than done. Rommel slid carefully from the backseat out into the cold atmosphere, and was promptly greeted with an unsettling sight. Standing a few feet away was a sergeant almost the size of Burhalter and Goering combined. The man came to attention the instant he spotted the Field Marshal. Rommel felt Lang move up beside him protectively, giving the guard a highly skeptical look.

"I am Major Lang, Sergeant. This is Feldmarshall Erwin Rommel. Where is Colonel Klink?" His tone was faintly demanding and impatient, Rommel guessed that he was tired and feeling irritable.

"Herr Major, I-I-I am sure he is coming! Karl is getting him right now!" The sergeant was still saluting, so Rommel raised his own hand and forced himself to smile. The man was obviously friendly, because he smiled back, a little uncertainly. Is he relieved, or what? Does he think all officers would like to bite his head off?

"What is your name, soldier?" He spoke for the first time since they had arrived. Other than his weight, the man had no other resemblance to the fat Generals of Berlin. In fact, he rather liked the big, goofy grin.

"Sergeant Schultz, Herr Feldmarshall!"

"Well Sergeant, you have an interesting camp here. I am surprised to see so few guards. I take it your Kommandant runs a tighter ship than most…" he looked around curiously.

Schultz was curious too, about Rommel. Most field marshals thought it below them to speak with an enlisted man. "Ja, a very tight ship." Like Klink, he thought it best to agree with his superiors. It made less sparks fly. For once, he found himself wishing for Klink's presence. He had no idea what to do with a friendly field marshal, and the major was still shooting suspicious glances in his direction.

"Sir," Daniel warned. "The Kommandant…"

Rommel waited patiently as Wilhelm Klink descended the steps. Klink was the direct opposite of his superior, tall and thin, with wide blue eyes and a transparent face. He carried a riding crop and a monocle. He must be one of the high-class Prussian officers. Wonder if he has the arrogance to go with his appearance?

Klink came to a jerky stop. Major Lang stepped in front of him and threw out his arm. "Heil Hitler!" he barked. Rommel struggled to keep a straight face. His new aide enjoyed attempting to intimidate other officers, even superiors. In a way, it was a test of the victim's character.

Klink recoiled nervously and put out his own arm. "Heil Hitler!" It was almost a whimper; Lang glanced pointedly at Rommel and stepped back.

"Colonel Klink, this is Feldmarshall Erwin Rommel," Daniel intoned. "We are here by your considerate invitation."

"Ja," Rommel agreed, extending his hand. "It was kind of you to offer the hospitality of this, fine, camp." Klink gave him a tentative handshake, plainly unused to such civility. "These men are part of my staff. Corporal Leighstat, and Major Lang. We do not intend to inconvenience you or interrupt your business."

"Oh no no no no, Herr Feldmarshall, no inconvenience at all," Klink gushed. "It is, in fact, a great honor to have you here." He whirled on Schultz and cried, "Show Corpral Leighstat to the guest quarters and help him with the bags!" He turned to Rommel and Lang. "Gentlemen, would you care to join me for a little, refreshment?" He rubbed his hands together.

"Certainly."

HHHHHHHHHH