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.

5th September 1942

Dieter shuffled his feet impatiently as he waited for Hans under a flickering street lamp. His leather boots squeaked at him, mocking him. He remembered the calf smell at Hans' house and then the stench of Richter and felt sick. A black Gestapo vehicle pulled up along side him and from the time it took for him to get out of the car, Dieter had already guessed it was Hans.

"Hello Dieter, what a wonderful night for an interrogation hmm? I bet you are glad I came."

"Of course, your skill is incomparable"

"After you."

Hans signaled to the house beside Dieter urging him to knock the door. Dieter gave it a few punches before a skinny private about twenty years old came to the door. He looked at Dieter with surprise, startled by his rank then almost jumped when he saw the colonel.

"My boy! Do not look so frightened. We are simply here to ask you about that bit of nastiness you experience you had in the forest last week. May we come in?"

"Yes Colonel, Major, right this way. I am sorry for the mess. Please sit. Would you like a drink?"

"No." Dieter said

"Tell us Hermann. What was it that happened in the forest?"

Hermann paused as if to think for a moment. Hans thought him a simpleton by the way he tipped his head and bit his lip.

"My squad was in the west of the forest that is about a mile from here. We were cutting through to get to a town suspected to have clusters of Jews hiding out. We made up camp and I left to get water. I was away for five minutes."

There was a look of clear distress on Hermann's face along with a clear look of amusement on Hans'.

"Keep Going."

"I heard a single gun shot and ran back. I wasn't armed so when I saw her standing over their bodies... her back to me... I had to retreat sir. I had to."

"Well yes, definitely. Now describe to me her appearance."

"I saw her briefly from the back. She was small. About five and a half feet, slender. She wore a dark green jacket with the English flag sewn on the back and she held a long sword that curved round at the end. Her hair was dark, waist length and had a curl. I barely saw her face but I would say she was twenty one, maybe two." His eyes fell to his wringing hands.

"Who have you told about this Hermann?" said Landa.

"Everyone who has asked sir."

"Come Dieter. Hermann, that is all."

Hans and Dieter stood together and walked out of the house leaving Hermann worrying about what should become of him. Hans planned his visit to Gobbels - propaganda minister to discuss how he would down play this phantom lady's reputation. With the basterds on the loose, there was only so much the Fuhrer would stand for especially when this new threat was woman. Hans had a good inclination of who she was and would use this to aid her capture. The George cross, her age, her appearance was too coincidental to remain coincidence. Dieter were none the wiser and Hans knew it; this was why he was the colonel and Dieter remained major. So Hans found himself in the place he loved most: at the beginning of an investigation and like a hawk, would be relentless.