Disclaimer: All characters and themes are the product of Quentin Tarantino's genius. Any others not native to the film are my own creations that are not set out to improve upon or change an already stunning production. I only intend to quench my need for an extended version of the character's lives. The basterds originally come to France in the spring of 1944. I have brought them a little earlier. The original film remains truthful.

This is my first fan-fic Narrative.

Glossary: Iron Maiden - a Medieval torture device made up of a coffin like shape with a space for the head with knives or spike lining the inside. On entering and shutting the device, the inhabiter would be pierced hundreds of times and killed.

29th of August 1942

Dieter sat in the stuffy tavern that was filled with warm evening light. He could not understand how a room could feel so musty and wet when outside was basking in the beautiful, dry August sun. Richter was getting fat. His coat bulged his navel and sweat beaded upon his greasy brow. Every slurp of beer he took put Dieter off his own. With annoyance he glanced at his watch. They were late. He felt so superior to his team, not only in rank but in stature and mind. He liked the way that when he was with Hans, conversation presented itself as being a challenge. It had been a particularly boring day as he was only dealing with formalities and running errands rather than killing or frightening people. He had not had the company of a woman in a long while either which made the mess of Richter intensify.

"Schultz, Walter! You are here. Misery there has not made much company." Richter jested.

"No change Richter, no change." said Walter.

"Please Schultz, make some sense and tell me what you brought us here for. Neither Richter or Walter are getting anywhere."

Schultz looked like a silly child. He had news of some sort that dieter thought would be no interest to him. He almost did not come to this gathering.

"Now look here boys, what I have heard is that there is somebody going around the woods killing large numbers of Nazi soldiers. Just slicing them up like they were wieners..."

"If you are talking about Aldo the Apache and his Jewish basterds then all of us already know you blithering time waster."

"No, no, no Dieter. It is a woman. Some sort of phantom. A witch and they are calling her the Iron Maiden."

"Like the torturing device?" Richer leaned forward forcing his sour stench to enter Dieter's nostrils.

"Yes, that medieval design. She wields a great sword of Japanese origin and throws sharpened swastikas at her targets."

"Sounds like a lot of rubbish Schultz. A woman? It could never be a woman if this 'Phantom' existed anyway."

"ah but Dieter there is a survivor. His name is Hermann Lister. He said he believed her to be Death itself because of how fast she killed them."

Dieter got up from the table. He needed to speak to Hans. If what Schultz had said was true then certainly the needed to find this 'Hermann Lister'. As he opened the door the clean air was overwhelming and the light stung him. He headed for the phone.

~.~.~

A desolate forest became the favourite place of Aldo's to catch his prey. He and the Basterds could hide behind the skinny trees as the two trucks rumbled by. Sergeant Donny Donowitz aimed his shot gun at the driver of the first van. A blinding sound shattered his ear drums, the bullet the driver's skull. Corporal Wilhelm Wicki pulled a startled captain from the other side of the van - brain and blood still sliding from his face - whilst the others took care of the other soldiers in the only way they knew how.

"Hirschberg, Utivich. Search those trucks" Aldo watched them as he beckoned Wicki to bring the Captain over to him.

"There's Jews in here sir. Lots of 'em." Utivich said. "Both trucks"

Aldo turned to the Captain and smirked with his eye brows low.

"Well 'aint we been a busy boy huh el Capitano?"

Donny came to Aldo's side peering over his shoulder like a devil challenging a conscience. His eyes were wide and wet, black with rage and red from strain.

"Let me do it sir. I wanna do it."

"Now hold on to that horse O' yours Donny. We need to ask this son of a bitch some questions. You sit your ass down over there on that rock."

He nodded his head over to the boulder in question, still piercing the eyes of a man condemned to die. Donny watched each Jew flee the trucks, man, woman and child. Some nodded, some waved, some just ran. His hands were growing numb where he was squeezing them so tight. Thirty at the very least must have escaped. All were doomed to die and would still if they were caught. Aldo interrogated the Captain knowing that it didn't matter whether he told them everything he knew, Donny would still beat him to death with his bat because all of the boys had seen the captain's intentions and for that he must die.

"Well Captain, see you in hell. Donny..."

The Basterds cheered and gathered around the Captain hungry for the brutality of what Donny was about to do. He gripped his baseball bat in his huge hands, biceps flexing and pulsing beneath his thick olive skin. His brow was low and eyes full of fire. He spat at the Captain's knee then swung hitting him on the arm, shattering the bone and squashing the flesh like putty. The Captain screamed in pain but uttered "Heil Hitler" in amidst the noise so Donny broke his other arm, then his legs. At each strike the Basterds drew in short, sharp breaths swallowing their adrenalin and regurgitating as Donny raised his arm for another swing. His head went last; a pink-red slurry of skull and tissue. Donny threw the bat to the ground and walked thirty feet out into the trees. The Basterds cheered no more but were silent watching the thick, red matter, ooze from the jellied body.

"Now, lets get outta here. Don't stand there boys, you know the drill. Scalps, valuables and weapons."

"Sir look at this." Wicki handed him a newspaper from the captain's jacket.

"Wicki I can't read this shit. Who is that?" He stared at the man's face on the front page.

"It's Sergeant Hugo Stiglitz sir. This article says he's killed all those Gestapo officers and they are taking him to Berlin for life imprisonment."

"Boys. We're off to collect this Stiglitz fella. Donny Getcha ass over here we're leaving."

Another German speaking Basterd would benefit them hugely. Aldo knew this and with a short fuse and psychotic mind like Stiglitz had, the Basterds would become an indestructable force.