A/N : Disclaimer ? What disclaimer ?
Ah, that disclaimer. Right. Aldinger's not really mine, historically speaking he was Rommel's aide. I thought it would be nice to have him in the story. On the other hand, Merhoff is mine. The patrol too. And, yes, Tom's sunburn is mine as well. Yes, I know, the disclaimer is about what I don't own, not the contrary. Let's say everything else is not mine. I forgot to mention Cornwall, but no one cares about him anyway.
December 1943, On the way to the Libyan coast
"Halt !"
The man, a young-looking lieutenant clad in a german uniform, had stepped in front of them, making his intentions quite clear. Besides, the patrol car standing about ten meters away had a machine gun on it, and two german soldiers ready to use it.
Rommel raised a hand so as to make everyone behind him stop, and he cursed under his breath. They had been lucky, so far, not encountering any patrol, but of course it couldn't be that easy to get out of the country. Now, they would have to face that patrol and make them believe one of the poorest lies the Feldmarschal had ever set up.
But it was not as if he had had any choice in the first place. Time was running against them.
He looked hard at the lieutenant, who was now approaching them with strides. Noticing Rommel's insignias, the yound man immediately snapped to attention.
"Lieutenant Langenscheidt, patrol number seven. I have to check your identity", he said in german.
"Yes, yes", Rommel said irritably in the same language, playing his act. "Ritter, take care of that."
Riddle stepped forward. He had put on a uniform, as he would have seemed out of place in civilian clothes, and it had been quite painful, as he had the worst sunburn he had ever seen. Even now, moving with the fabric rubbing on his back was aching, and he was really starting to regret he had not heeded Rommel's warning the day before, when he had carelessly removed his shirt. But, well, nothing could be done about it, so he would just have to bear with it. Gritting his teeth out of pain, he gave Landenscheidt the papers. As he was acting as Rommel's aid, it was only natural that he should take care of such matters.
"Here", he said, his voice a little hoarse because of the dryness of his throat. They had little water left, and needed to spare it. Even more knowing that he and Rommel would depend on it to get back to where they had left the car. Taking it along with them would have been easier, but they had not so much fuel left.
The lieutenant examined the papers, then suddenly shot an incredulous look towards the Feldmarschal. Obviously, he had just read the name of the officer he had arrested so casually. His face betraying a slight uneasiness, he resumed his scrutiny of the papers. He had to yield to the facts, they seemed genuine. He gave the papers back to Riddle and saluted Rommel.
"Sir, it is an honour to meet you. I apologize, I did not expect to see you here... I mean..." the young man's face reddened a little as he stammered his words of excuse.
"No, it's quite all right", Rommel replied, raising a hand to stop the man's babbling. "You were merely doing your duty. I would have been displeased if you had not stopped me."
"Yes sir !" Langenscheidt barked, saluting once more.
If he did that only once more, Rommel was going to get a headache.
"Now, you should resume your patrol."
"Yes sir !"
"However, I don't want that incident mentioned to anyone", the Feldmarschal added with a slightly conspirating look.
"Are you on a secret mission, Herr Feldmarschal ?" the lieutenant gave a jump at the thought.
"I guess you could call it that", Rommel replied with a dismissive gesture.
"Yes sir. Not mention will be made to anyone", Langenscheidt replied. Then he hesitated. "Not even in my report, sir ?"
"Not at all", the blond man replied in a commanding tone.
"Yes sir."
Obviously, this lieutenant also knew the unwritten rule ; always agree to whatever your superiors say. Rommel was almost tempted to say something sheer daft, like "the gestapo are nosy rats", or "Goering is a fat pig", just to see if Langenscheidt would still answer with a "yes, sir". Instead, he gave a brief nod.
"If that is all, you are dismissed, lieutenant."
"Yes SIR !" the lieutenant clicked his heels and saluted. Once more.
The good side was that he left at once, and his men followed him back into their car. Soon enough, they were away from the British group, and Rommel heaved a sigh of relief. Everything had run more smoothly than he could have hoped for.
Dumbledore stepped ahead and watched the cloud of dust the german patrol car left behind it. He did not look worried in the least. God, than man was irritating ! Either too childish, or too serious. No in-betweens.
"You think they bought it ?" the elderly wizard asked.
"I don't see any reason why they would not. They did not seem suspicious", Riddle shrugged.
"Yes", Dumbledore replied patiently, "but they were ten and we are a hundred. It would have been unreasonable for them to show any surprise."
"They outnumbered us. They were ten and a machine gun", Rommel groaned caustically. "Had we tried anything foolish, they could have slaughtered us. I'm more concerned about their silence. I hope they keep their mouth shut as I ordered them to."
"Well, in any case, we still have some a long way to go", Dumbledore concluded. "We should resume walking."
They did as he had said, since there was nothing else to do. It was not easy to walk like that on the sand, sparing their water as much as they could. The sultriness made Riddle sweat more and more each passing minute - or at least he felt that way. He cast a sideways glance to Rommel. The german was still wearing his leather coat, and his uniform jacket underneath, and he did not even seem to be bothered by the heat. There had to be a trick.
He wiped his forehead once more, the sweat trickled over his face and sometimes even ran in his eyes.
After two hours more of walking, and another encounter with a german patrol (which ended very much like the first) they finally reached their goal ; the shore. Riddle smelt the salty air before even hearing the sound of the waves, and he heaved a sigh of relief. He was not sure he would have borne it much longer. Damn these muggle soldiers ; without them, it would have been so easy to Apparate !
Night had since long fallen when they finally stepped on the beach and stopped walking. Most of the men sat on the ground with alleviation, and Dumbledore allowed them to drink and to eat something. Rommel checked his watch. The ship was due at two a.m., and it was around one a.m. So, one hour to wait. He hated being there, in plain sight, even thought a few clouds darkened the night.
Behind the Feldmarshal, Riddle removed his uniform jacket and his shirt, bitting his lips so as not to cry. The blond man turned his head toward him.
"Maybe you should ask Dumbledore to have a look at that. I'm certain he is talented with healing charms. I'd do it myself, but as you so cleverly guessed, I'm no good with that kind of magic."
"I'd ask Grindelwald before going to Dumbledore for such a petty matter", the teen retorted angrily.
"As you please", the german replied quietly.
He did not see Riddle as a boy. He was seventeen, and mature enough ; he did not need mothering, and even if he had, Rommel was not the person he would have to turn to. Which meant, he was big enough to take care of himself. If he preferred the pain to a dent in his pride, then so be it.
He sat on the ground, and after a few minutes, Riddle came to sit next to him. They watched the sea and its waves silently, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Tom absent-mindedly rubbed a handful of sand. He hated waiting ; he was not much of a patient person.
"Are you married ?" he suddenly asked, tired of the silence.
He guessed the movement more than he saw Rommel raise an eyebrow.
"Why do you ask ?"
"Just curious", the teen replied with a shrug.
There was a long silence, and Riddle thought he wouldn't answer, but just at that moment, the Feldmarschal started talking.
"I have a wife and a son. Most of the time, they stay at Scheinacht Castle. What about you ?" he added, a little harshly.
"Me ?" Riddle choked. "I'm seventeen !"
"Your point is ?" the german scoffered.
"No one marries at seventeen !" the teen grew indignant.
"I've seen it happen."
"Well, that's twisted. What are your wife and son's name ?" the British boy insisted.
"She's Lucie. And my son's name is Manfred."
"You are not going to show me a picture of them ?" Tom pressed him.
"I don't go around with a picture of them. You see that only in these hollywood movie dramas", the german scowled. "Tell me about you. Any sibling ?"
He never had even thought of asking that kind of things to the British teen, but the boy's asking about his family had made him a little homesick, especially given that he had no way to know when he would see them again, and that he had missed Manfred's birthday, which was on Christmas' Eve. Civilians were not allowed to use floo powder in wartime, and besides, there weren't any chimneys they could use to get to Africa. Apparition was also regulated in wartime, and anyway Manfred could neither have come along nor stayed, left on his own while he was only six. Rommel could Apparate freely, thanks to his rank, but the privilege did not extend to his family. Broom-flying was also dangerous in wartime, with all the fights between the Luftwaffe and Allied planes, not to mention how exhausting it would have been for Lucie. Besides, he preferred to know his family safe in Germany, even if that meant he could not see them as much as he would have liked to.
"I don't have any sibling", the British teen finally replied.
For some reason, the question about his family had darkened Riddle's mood.
"What about your parents ?" Rommel insisted.
The teen had been somewhat prying, so he did not have any qualm doing the same thing.
"Dead", the boy replied tersely.
The Feldmarschal nodded in understanding. His own parents had died too, but only after his father had talked him out of becoming an engineer, as he wanted to when he was younger.
He didn't expect Riddle to say more about his family, as it seemed to disturb him, so he was surprised when the teen continued, in a quiet voice.
"I was raised in an orphanage, but I found out about my parents. I don't regret not getting to know them. If they didn't care enough to keep me with them, then they don't deserve any consideration."
These were harsh words in such a young man's voice - for at this moment, he was undoubtedly a man, and yet all the same he was still a child craving for love and recognition. But the child inside him had steeled himself, and there remained only glimpses of who he could have been, had his life been different. A very strange boy, indeed.
"Maybe not everyone is meant to have children", Rommel finally said with a shrug, knowing Riddle would not accept any sympathy, nor any dwelling on the matter.
"Maybe", the teen agreed.
They remained silent after that, until Rommel suddenly stiffened, as he had seen a light shining through the darkness of the night, far away on the ocean.
"The signal" he hissed, and he turned his head toward Dumbledore.
But the elderly wizard was already up, and with a torch gave the answer to the code. He flashed three times, then waited for ten seconds, then flashed twice more. The expected answer seemed to come, as the man lowered the torch with a wide smile. He then approached Rommel and Riddle, the torch still in his hand.
"Seems like our transportation just arrived. They will send yawls, I expect, to take us onboard."
"Are you convinced, at last, that I am on your side ?" the Feldmarschal replied smoothly.
"It does seem like you are."
That was hardly a positive answere, and Rommel slightly scowled, before steadying himself and adressing the elderly wizard an exquisitively polite smile.
"Have a nice trip", he said sweetly, wishing the weather would be bad. Maybe the man would get seasick if it happened.
"Thank you. I hope you will be able to get back to, ah... your usual activities soon."
"I'm sure you do", Rommel replied dryly, in a doubtful tone.
"Tom, my dear boy, don't put yourself in harm's way", the elderly wizard added.
At that same moment, the first of the dinghies sent by the British ship accosted, and Dumbledore walked away to speak with their rescuers. Riddle and the Feldmarschal watched the British soldiers, who were startint to get in the yawls, while Dumbledore supervised them.
"I believe his last sentence meant 'don't stay too close of your german friend'", Rommel said snidely.
"You think he figured it out ?" Tom sneered scornfully.
"I'm almost certain he knows I am german. But nothing more."
"I agree", Riddle snorted. "Otherwise, he would have tried to take you back to England as his prisonner."
Rommel chuckled at the thought. Powerful or not, Dumbledore would have found someone able to fight back, had he tried such a foolish thing.
It took about an hour to get all the British soldiers safely on the ship. When Dumbledore's turn came, at last, (as the commanding officer, he had to be the last to leave), he merely nodded at the Feldmarschal and Riddle, and moments later he was out of sight. The two wizards remained alone in the night.
It felt good, not to be surrounded by all these men, Tom thought. He did not like such proximity, and he had done everything he could to avoid speaking with them, not even answering when they asked him questions. They had quickly given up, and even quicker because they believed he was an officer. Well, he did look older than he actually was.
"What do we do, now ?" he asked the Feldmarschal, whom he was starting to feel comfortable with, after that little adventure.
"Are you tired ?" the other man replied.
"That's rude to answer a question with another question", the boy smirked, "but actually, I'm not. We had some rest this afternoon, remember ?"
"Then I suggest we start going back to the car, and make the most of the coolness of the night while we still can."
"That's a good idea. At least, now we're rid of Dumbledore", the teen replied, holding back a sigh when he though of the heat they would have to endure the next afternoon. Merlin, he hated that country...
Axis Forces Headquarters, Bir-Hakeim
Seated in the officer's mess, captain Aldinger took a sip of coffee, before putting down again the cup. He absent-mindedly turned the spoon in the hot liquid, and cast a sideways glance to major Merhoff, his direct superior officer.
"Any news yet, sir ?" he queried, without needing to specify whom he was speaking of.
His long time friendship with the major allowed him to speak to him in such a casual manner, though any other officer would probably have been quelled for speaking out of turn. As it was, Merhoff merely bit his lip and drew a cigarette from his pack. Aldinger lift his lighter out and offered the flame to the major, who used it to light his cigarette.
"Well, not yet", he said, puffing some smoke.
"Are you not worried ?" Aldinger asked, slightly surprised by his friend's flippancy.
"You know as well as I do that his methods are quite unique", Merhoff responded, but that was hardly a real answer. Aldinger frowned.
"Would you happen to know something I don't ?" he finally asked.
The major smirked, which was as revealing as if he had said "yes" out loud.
"You enjoy making me worry, don't you", Aldinger growled, crossing his arms.
"I don't know anything", Merhoff said. "But I do have a theory", he added after crossing his subordinate's glare.
Aldinger said nothing but waited intently, his arms still crossed in front of him. Though the captain was hardly in any position to demand answers, Merhoff relented.
"I told you about that 'nephew' of his. My guess is the Feldmarschal left on a special mission."
"Himself ? With that young man, Ritter ?"
"Hardly a man", Merhoff scoffed. "he must still be in his teens, or at least no older than twenty."
"Which makes the whole idea even weirder", Aldinger retorted.
"Just think about it", the major replied. "The nephew story, that whole thing is just a set up, so what other explanation could there be ? You know about the Feldmarschal's tendencies to go to the front, to be 'closer to his soldiers', as he says."
"Oh, I do", Aldinger moaned. "Each time one of his generals wants to speak to him, I have to fetch him, and most of the time he refuses to come back. And that's only when I am able to find him."
"So just how surprising would it be for him to go on a special mission ?"
"Well, if you put it that way, maybe not so strange", Aldinger admitted. "But that's not exactly the same thing to go to the front and to go on a mission, especially if he did not even tell you about it. Besides, I think there is anyhow something that bothers you. Else you would not be frowning like that."
"Is that so obvious ?" the major complained. "I must confess, I do not trust that Ritter boy. They may have left on an assignment together, but I'm sure he has something to do with the gestapo. Maybe he was sent here by Reichsführer Himmler."
That was the first time the major told about his suspicions to anyone, and he felt better having expressed his concern.
"If that is the case, there is nothing we can do", Aldinger observed.
"Maybe", Merhoff scowled. "But I intend to watch Ritter when he comes back. He won't get an occasion to threaten the Feldmarschal. Rommel is about our only chance to fight back successfully the Allies, and I have a great deal of respect for the man, though he can be pretty annoying with his lack of concern for his own safety."
"Then, you can count on me to help you", Aldinger said earnestly. "No gestapo man - or boy, for that matter - will get to our Feldmarschal."
Ending note : I read recently on a site about Rommel's methods and character ; he was indeed sometimes reckless with his own safety. Here is a quote from the website "achtung panzer" :
"Also, Rommel commanded his units from the frontline, since he felt it was important for the commander to always be near his troops. Erwin Rommel was always with the reconnaissance troops and sometimes he cut the communication with the High Command, because he didn't want to be disturbed. Rommel realized that the High Command didn't know about tank warfare, so he simply cut the communication and explained everything later. His staff criticized Rommel for his behavior and they were often unable to find out where Rommel was."