A/N : What ? Disclaimer ? Nope, I'm not gonna write the disclaimer, 'cause it is the cursed chapter, and I could accidentally write that something belongs to me when nothing's mine...

March 1944 - near the border of Libya - Bunker (temporary Headquarters)

Tom stretched, yawning. There was little to do, as there had been lately, and he was starting to feel a little bored. For now three months, the Allies had launched ceaseless attacks against the german front of Libya, and Rommel had stayed in various bunkers to organize a defense line. Until now, none of the two armies had yielded any ground, and it was turning from a biltzkrieg to a war of positions.

The teen rose from his camp bed, and sleepily eyed the other occupants of the bunker. Some high-ranking officers were quietly talking all around a map, some others were taking a nap - just like Tom had - and the others were either busy with the wireless radio or out of sight. There was no trace of the Feldmarschal. He was probably out at the front. Once again. Tom had an amused smile ; the man was driving his officers crazy, and led everyone at an exhausting pace.

At that same moment, major Merhoff entered the room, and watched all around as if looking for someone. Obviously not finding him, he approached captain Aldinger.

"Do you know where is the Feldmarschal ?" he enquired in a low voice.

"Last time I saw him, it was six hours ago", the captain replied absent-mindedly. "He must be out at the front."

"Again", Merhoff growled. "Frankly, Aldinger, the men may like it, but I'd rather have a commander in chief a little more fearful. Just enough to drop by at his headquarters every once in a while."

The other man shrugged helplessly.

"I'll go fetch him, if you..."

He didn't have the time to finish his sentence, as some hurly-burly was audible at the entrance of the bunker, and seconds later Rommel strode in, followed by a handful of men, all speaking at the same time. With all that people inside, the bunker seemed suddenly a bit crowded.

"That's quite all right, gentlemen, you mlay return to the front", the Feldmarschal ordered. "That's nothing serious."

"You are sure, sir ?" a lieutenant cast him a guilty glance.

"Yes", Rommel asserted in a tone that showed his patience was wearing thin.

They left the bunker, and order was quickly restored. Merhoff stepped forward, his eyes scrutinizing.

"If I may, sir, what happened ?"

The Feldmarschal did not answer at once, but approached the table and sat on one of the chairs, before studying the map displayed on the table. Finally, he showed Merhoff a dot on the dark line standing for the front.

"I was there, half an hour ago. A new attack from the Allies crushed our positions ; they have fuel, supplies... everything we need so badly."

He stopped his explanation to cough, drawing worried glances from his men. It was no secret his doctor had strongly advised him to leave the front and return to Germany to be treated, though no one knew exactly what his illness was but himself and his doctor. Yet he stubbornly stayed, and no one had been able to convince him otherwise. Berlin was probably not even aware of his medical situation.

"Anyway", he pursued once the fit ended, "it might mean we will have to fall back further, if they keep attacking at this rate."

All the german officers present shared dark glances. They knew their situation was not very good, and morale was not at its highest. Merhoff squinted at his commander in chief. Rommel looked tired, his uniform was dusty and torne in places - probably because of his last stay at the front. And... was that blood ?

"Sir ?" the major turned pale. "Are you wounded ?"

"What ?" the Feldmarschal followed his gaze. "Ah, barely a scratch. Most of this blood isn't mine, anyway."

"Please, let at least the doctor have a look at it", Merhoff insisted. "We'll prepare for a possible retreat meanwhile."

"Yes, yes, no hurry. Try to make contact with all of my field commanders" Rommel waved him off and disappeared in his "room", only separated from the main room of the bunker by a heavy dark curtain. While one of the officers went out to fetch a doctor, Tom followed the german wizard, unaware of Merhoff and Aldinger's dark gaze set on him.

"Is it bad ?" he asked quietly while entering the Feldmarschal's quarters.

"Well, quite", he admitted while unbuckling his belt and taking off his uniform jacket. "I can use tricks, but it won't replace supplies, fuel, or men."

"I meant your wound."

"Oh", Rommel said, looking slightly surprised. "No, it's all right, but in Africa it can become infected pretty fast, so even shallow wounds may be dangerous."

"So, what are you going to do ?" Tom queried.

"Disinfect it with some antiseptic, and..."

"I meant, about the Allied attacks", the teen cut him.

"There is not much to do", the german shrugged. "Until Berlin answers my calls, at least. If they don't, I might try to talk with the Italians, who are even closer, but I'd rather not."

"Why ?" Tom curiously asked.

"Because it is not my place to ask reinforcements from our allies, and if I do so Grindelwald will probably be mad at me", the Feldmarschal said in a low-voice, for he didn't want to be overheard by his men in the bunker. "And if it happens, I won't be much help for the... project we have been working on. He must not doubt my loyalty - for now. Besides, it would put my family in danger."

"You could arrange for them to be sent in Great-Britain..."

"It could never be kept a secret !" Rommel replied angrily. "I have a duty toward my country, as I have a duty toward my family. I won't choose between them, for it would not be a choice I could make. So, I will try to keep them safe, and to overthrow Grindelwald."

The teen raised a doubtful eyebrow as he sat on the corner of the Feldmarschal's campbed, toying absent-mindedly with his wand, which he had reduced to the size of a pencil. It even looked like one, which allowed him to keep it in his hand when the doctor finally pop up in the curtained room.

It was a man tall and lean, with brown greying hair and a beginning of baldness which made his forehead look larger than it actually was. His dark eyes, deeply sunken in his orbit, were vivid and clever. He had the talent to see what other men didn't, to watch further than mere appearances, and not to let himself be deceived by illusions. In other words, he was a muggle, but he still had a special connection to everything that was magic. Maybe he felt it in Rommel and Tom, but if it was the case, he had never said so. Yet, they both were persuaded he knew more than he let show.

He straightened his uniform, on which the insignias of a lieutenant-colonel could be seen, and saluted the Feldmarschal smartly.

"Lieutenant-colonel Horster reporting, sir. I was told you have been injured ?" he asked briefly.

"Right", the german wizard nodded, as if he had already forgotten about it. "Tom, if you will wait outside..."

"Sure", the teen shrugged and left.

Rommel finished to undress and stood in front of his doctor, stripped to the waist, his wound now clearly visible. It was a gash that crossed his ribs, not very deep but profusely bleeding. Horster carefully proded the slash, and the Feldmarschal winced slightly when the colonel pushed a little too harshly. Finally, his inspection finished, the doctor straightened up and took some bandage in his bag, as well as some disinfectant.

"That's gonna hurt a little", he warned.

He couldn't help but think Rommel deserved the pain for his tendencies to go to the front almost everyday, against his advices, and so he pitilessly applied the antiseptic on the wound, before bandaging it, ignoring the Feldmarschal's groan of pain. The whole thing didn't take more than a few minutes. Once he was done, Horster started stowing his medical equipment, as Rommel got dressed. He squinted at his superior, and then started speaking casually.

"How do you feel, sir ?"

A shrug.

"Not too bad, if what you told me last time is true."

"It will get worse", Horster quietly warned.

"Yes, probably", Rommel nodded.

"Then why won't you leave ?" the doctor frustratingly enquired.

"I just can't leave now. Don't you see what situation we are in ? If I was to go back to Berlin, I would have no choice but remain there for weeks, maybe month. We just can't afford that for the moment."

"If you stay, you will eventually be too ill to do anything", Horster said, refraining himself just in time before adding things that could get him court-martialled.

"I have still some time left", the Feldmarschal said, before coughing. He adressed his doctor a sickly smile. "Or maybe not so much. I don't enjoy doing that, you know. I wish I could just go back and not have to suffer at all. But I guess we just can't always do what we want."

He put on again his cap, and grabbed the baton that was a symbol of his rank. He paused just before leaving the room.

"Don't worry", he added. "You disapproval has been put on record. You will not be blamed, whatever happens."

With that he lifted the heavy curtains and strode out of the room. Horster watched him go to his officers, asking for a report, and shook his head angrily.

"That's not what worries me most", he muttered, before going back to his duties. Many men still needed him, and he knew more were to come.

"No news from Kesselring ? And from the Luftwaffe ?" Rommel enquired.

"None", Aldinger replied ruefully. "We are currently making contact with Berlin, though. We are expecting an answer in... ah, here it comes, I believe."

Tom approached, as the captain went to work with the wireless radio, and started putting down the words as they came through. Muttering under his breath, he wrote about two sentences, before putting back the headset and handing the slip of paper to his commander in chief. Rommel read quickly Berlin's orders, and as he did so his eyes widened in disbelief.

"What is this... ?" he growled angrily. "Aldinger, ask for confirmation !"

"Yes sir", the captain nodded nervously, and started operating the radio once again.

The confirmation arrived only minutes later, and he handed the Feldmarschal the second reply from Berlin. Rommel read, and breathed-in sharply.

"This... is... utter nonsense !" he hissed.

His officers shared a worried glance, but none of them dared ask what was going on. They uncomfortably looked around, shifting from one feet to another. Tension slightly rose in the bunker, more than it had ever happened. Finally, Tom cleared his throat, loudly. Rommel raised his head, and gave the paper to Merhoff, who turned pale when he read it, before giving it to the nearest officer so he could read to. As the paper was turning around, the Feldmarschal started pacing.

"No supplies can be sent", he quoted the message. "But you have to hold your position. Fight to the last for honor and for the Fatherland. Fight to the last ! It's archaic ! Medieval ! Who is he to condemn every single man here to a meaningless death !"

Never before had Rommel spoken so openly in front of his men, and that in itself showed the extent of his wrath. His eyes were flashing with rage, and his pale features were tense with anger. Merhoff stepped forward.

"What shall we do, then ?" the major asked. "Sir, you are here, he isn't. It is your decision to take."

There was no need to ask who was "he". In spite of his anger, the Feldmarschal hesitated. He had certainly not expected such words from the faithful officer which stood in front of him.

"It is a direct order, from the highest authority in the Reich !" he replied frustratingly.

As much as he despised Grindelwald for was he was doing to Germany, he still had to seem loyal, and besides he was always uncomfortable when it came to disregard a legal authority. He knew he had to overthrow the insane wizard that had called himself the Führer ; but it did not make treason easier.

"It an insane order. Sir, the Führer is not here, and maybe he has been influenced, or maybe he is not aware of the seriousness of our situation. But you are, and it is your orders the men will follow", Merhoof said as persuasively as he could.

"Influenced. I would not be surprised, with these minions of his", Rommel snarled. "Himmler, Goering... never saw them on the Russian front."

Eventually, he straightened himself, and gazed at his officers. These brave and faithful men who had followed him with whatever crazy trick he invented, who stood in front of an army twice as big as theirs, not without fear, for only a fool would not be afraid, but without cowardice. And he knew he could never sentence them to death, no matter what.

"Berlin can send as many orders as they want", he finally said in a loud and determined voice. "We will withdraw, and fall back till Paris if need be. I want everyone ready to leave this bunker, because I don't think we will be able to hold this position much longer."

He tore up the paper on which had been written his last orders, and waited for the protests, but none came. Riddle, back on the wall, seemed unconcerned. The officers present merely nodded, and when he dismissed them they went back to their duty at once. With a sigh, Rommel sat down. He knew he had made the right decision. He also knew he felt like a traitor.

"Major", he said to Merhoff, "how long till everything is ready ?"

"Less than an hour, sir", the major replied.

"Good."

He showed him the map.

"See, we are here. Now, the closest fortifications are..."

He did not have the time to finish his sentence. A sudden explosion shook the bunker to its foundations, and everything went dark.

Ending note : Rommel was really ill, in Africa, and had to go back to Germany twice because of that. In September 1942, he took a sick leave in Italy and Germany but immediately returned when news of the battle became known (On the night of 23rd October 1942, the allied armies launched an attack in Africa) But Rommel could only delay the inevitable. Ultra was a major factor that led to the defeat of his forces. He left Africa after falling ill, and the men of his former command eventually became prisonners of war at the Axis capitulation in Tunisia on 12 May 1943.

Also, the Führer did really send this insane order, to fight to the last, and Rommel really refused to obey it. The germans were outnumbered, as shows this quote I found on the web :

"The Africa Korps was placed in Africa more as a friendly gesture towards an axis partner rather than as a real threat to the British and their allies. The German forces in Africa initially consisted of two tank divisions and later were increased by another two divisions in 1942. After this increase, "the German tank divisions together with the Italian tank divisions counted 496 tanks of which about 60 were Italian made and unsuitable for desert conditions. The British had a force of 1029 tanks"(Woloszanski 140). "Although not as excellent as the German PzKpfw IIIs and IVs, the British Matilda, Valentine, and Crusader were of better quality than the Italian tanks"(Woloszanski 122). The advantage the Germans had, though, was an excellent commander."

I'm not aware of any injury Rommel sustained in Africa beside his illness, but as I know he was often out at the front, I don't think he could have done that and never been wounded.

And remember ; reviewed stories are happy stories.