The bundles of sticks in Hitch's arms was steadily growing larger and more difficult to maintain, not to mention incredibly scratchy. Eventually, he dropped the sticks in a metal trashcan near the brick patio, and cursed to himself upon seeing the thin lines of blood welling up across his arms.

Certainly not the worst that could have happened.

Hitch went back to picking up sticks. He glanced over at the very back of the yard, and saw Tully and Dietrich talking quietly to each other. Eventually, they stopped talking, and stared out at the lovely view of the woods and Hammelburg. Part of Hitch wanted to complain that he was doing all the work and they were doing nothing, but instead, he dropped his new, smaller pile of sticks in the trashcan and walked over to where the two taller men were.

"See something interesting?" Hitch asked, leaning against the fence next to Tully.

"Nah. Just listening to the church bells," Tully replied.

Hitch looked past Tully at Dietrich. The skinny German was looking more relaxed than Hitch had ever seen him. His chin was up, his eyes were closed, and there was a slight smile on his face.

"Really is a nice property you got here, Dietrich," Tully said. "Kinda thing most people dream about."

"Yeah," Hitch added in agreement. "Nice and open. Lots of stuff you can do with this yard."

"Shh," Dietrich said. "Just enjoy the sound of the wind in your ears and the feeling of it in your hair and against your skin. A lot of flowers are in bloom this time of year, and they smell wonderful. The birds are awake and the forests are alive with their concerts."

Hitch nodded, and kept quiet.

Several long minutes passed, and, surprisingly, it was Tully who broke the silence. "This is definitely a blessing for you, Dietrich."

"Yes," Dietrich replied. "One I do not feel that I deserve."

Hitch turned his head to look at him, and opened his mouth to argue, but Dietrich kept talking.

"I will never take this for granted. I have woken up every day and thought about how grateful I am that I was given all of this, despite me feeling as though I am entirely unworthy of it."

Hitch sighed. "You're not unworthy, Dietrich."

The tranquil look left Dietrich's face as he faced Hitch. "Troy has said the same thing to me, many times. It has lost all meaning. Tell me, Hitch, how am I not unworthy? I cannot claim that I was a perfect man in the war. How am I more worthy of such a nice home when there are homeless women with children wandering the bombed-out streets. The lady I was giving much of my food to has four children—they are all more worthy of this than me."

Tully gripped Dietrich's shoulder. "Stop. You're spiraling downward again."

"Tully—"

"Just… stop," Tully said slowly. "I'm not saying you're wrong, but there's a way to wish for other people's lives to be better without wishing for yours to be worse." He gently massaged Dietrich's shoulder. "You gotta stop thinking like that, sir."

Hitch decided to go around to Dietrich's right in order to squeeze his other shoulder. He frowned upon feeling the bones jutting so prominently through Dietrich's shirt, but resisted the urge to say anything. We got a long way to go to get him healthy, and it's not like he was healthy in North Africa, either.

"Do you wanna take a break for lunch?" Tully asked.

"We have barely done anything," Dietrich replied, flatly.

"I picked up a lot of sticks," Hitch said. "What else needs to be done?"

"There are dead leaves that need to be cleaned up. I was taking care of that."

"I'll do it," Tully said.

"No, thank you. I need to do… something. Just… something. If you do not mind, I would like to do it alone. Neither of you need to be over my shoulder." Dietrich let out a heavy sigh before taking his rake and leaving the fence.

Hitch moved closer to Tully. "Think we screwed up?"

Tully shook his head. "No. He was just gonna keep talking until that train of bad thoughts crashed. Someone had to pull the brakes."

Hitch nodded. "He's so thin, Tully. Did you feel—"

"Yep. Mama would stuff him like a Thanksgiving turkey if she saw him, and then Granny would rise from her grave to help. Remember Mama's reaction to Moffitt?"

"Yeah. None of us got any biscuits because she kept giving them to him."

"Think of that, but about ten times more fussy. That'd happen if Dietrich ever went to Kentucky."

"Is that what we're going to have to do?"

Tully snorted. "No. Moffitt's just forgetful or a bit too focused on other things when it comes to stopping to eat. That became part of my job—making him stop reading his books so he actually ate."

"Wasn't that how you started reading some of his dad's books?"

"Yeah. I remember telling him to go have lunch while I was working on one of the jeeps, he left his book on the hood, I got curious—" Tully shrugged. "I didn't think it'd be interesting, but I actually found it really interesting. Became a bit of a habit."

"Meanwhile Sarge went and found wild prickly pear cacti one time. I never needed to tell him to eat. Noticed he was kind of a forager or grazer when it came to food."

"It depended on his mood, which was hard to tell sometimes. I remember there were days where he'd eat with us, and days where he'd be off somewhere else having a cigarette."

"Those'd be the days after something bad happened." Hitch turned to the fence, looking out at the view again. "After Beckmann was arrested, I remember Sarge didn't eat with us for a whole week. I think it was five days into that when I asked if everything was okay. I never seen him so jumpy before—all I did was come up behind and call out, and he practically flew six feet in the air."

"Yeah. It was best to just leave him alone," Tully said.

"How come we never worried about Sarge the way we do with Dietrich?"

"Oh, we worried. There was a lot of worrying, but Sarge is—or was, not sure anymore—more closed off than Dietrich. With Dietrich, you can just feel that he needs help. With Sarge…" Tully shrugged. "He's been a lot happier since the war ended and he has his ranch now."

"But he's all alone. Moffitt was pestering him about that."

"Yeah. Not much we can do about that, though." Tully looked over at where Dietrich was raking. "Right now, Dietrich is the one who needs help."

"Trouble is, where do we start?"

Tully was quiet for a moment, chewing his matchstick. "Small. We start small. Work our way up. Do you remember seeing what kinda tea Dietrich has?"

"He's got a ton of chamomile from Moffitt. I think that's what all the vanilla and honey's for."

"You can make iced chamomile, but not with vanilla and honey. That's a hot thing." Tully rubbed his chin. "We need fruit. Did you see fruit in the fridge?"

"I saw a container of blueberries."

"That'll work. I got an idea." Tully started heading back toward the house.

Hitch followed. "You know, when you say that you have an idea, it makes me a lot less nervous than when Sarge says it."

"Why? Because you know nothing's going to get destroyed?"

"Well, you don't have a bazooka in your hands, so—" Hitch shrugged.

"Fair enough." Tully opened the back door, and let Hitch in before following and closing the door behind him.

"Also, are you sure we should be doing this? This isn't either of our kitchens."

"When we agreed to do this, we both knew it wasn't going to be easy. We can't just tell Dietrich to eat. We gotta give him a reason to." Tully took out a few boxes of chamomile tea. "There's nothing more comforting or refreshing than a big ol' glass of iced tea."

"Does Dietrich even have a pitcher or filter?" Hitch asked.

"He better! I sent him one two years ago. If he gave that away, I'll be mad."

"Found it." Hitch held up a pitcher after finding it in a cabinet by the sink.

"Thank goodness. Let's get brewing."

About a half-hour went by before Dietrich entered the house. He was drenched in sweat and red in the face from working in the sun, and certainly looked ready for a drink. Whether or not he was actually going to accept one was a whole other matter.

"Hey, Dietrich," Tully said.

"If I had known you two were going to come back inside, I would have stopped working," Dietrich replied. He paused. "What is that smell?"

"Iced tea."

"Did you use my chamomile? And my blueberries?"

"Yeah." Tully poured a glass and slid it toward Dietrich. "Have a taste."

"You could not be bothered to ask permission before going through my food and drinks?" Dietrich sighed. "Troy really did teach you awful habits."

"Just give it a try, Dietrich."

Dietrich looked a bit hesitant before picking up the glass. He studied it, gave the ice inside a gentle swirl, then took a sip. He said nothing for a moment, took another sip, and finally said, "Less sugar. More blueberries. Is this from a recipe of yours?"

"No. I kinda threw it together because that's all you have."

"For an ad hoc tea, it is… quite interesting."

"You like it?"

"As I said before, it would be excellent if it had less sugar and more blueberries. The sweetness of the blueberries will balance better against the bitterness of the tea."

"Do you want me to dump it, then?"

"No, no, I will drink it as is. Just keep that in mind for next time."

"In that case, I'll consider this a victory." Tully added a little more tea to his own glass. "I'll even make lunch. What would you like?"

"I will finish this glass and go back outside," Dietrich said.

"Dietrich, it's after noon. Come on, we have all day to work in the yard." Tully gave Dietrich a quizzical look. "You just not hungry?"

"No."

"Did you have a big breakfast or something?"

No answer.

Hitch turned to Tully, then took over, looking at Dietrich. "Is something bugging you?"

"No. Nothing is bothering me," Dietrich muttered.

"You can be honest with us," Tully said.

"No, you are going to be honest with me." Dietrich glared at both of them. "Troy sent you here to interrogate me about my eating habits."

"No—"

"Do not lie to me. I saw it in the looks on your faces when I opened the door. Troy convinced you to do this, because he would not be able to hold back on asking questions about how I am doing, just like before. So, he decided to send the two of you, because we hardly know each other and he assumed I would not suspect his involvement."

"Well, you're half-right," Tully said. "Sarge has work to do on his ranch. That's why he didn't do this himself. He told us that we needed to bond with you."

Hitch looked down at the counter. There goes the ballgame. Now Dietrich is going to rip our heads off and send us home.

"I was convinced he would let this go already!" Dietrich snapped. "I do not need you or him or anyone telling me what to do with my life now! But no! He decided to trick me one last time!"

"For the record, Sarge didn't trick you. This is my fault." Tully sighed. "I told Sarge that this was a bad idea, because we all know this is a bit of a touchy topic for you. I told Hitch before you answered the door that it'd be best we don't tell you the truth because neither of us want to upset you."

Dietrich clenched his fists, then released them. "I wish you had just told me the truth from the beginning."

"Would you have told us to get lost?"

"I…" Dietrich shrugged, then sank down into a chair by the counter. He covered his face. "Troy is the one who said we need to move on. I had assumed that would mean all the fussy nonsense would stop as well. I can take care of myself."

"Well, forgive us for being a little worried every now and then, given what… happened a month ago." Tully waited for Dietrich to respond, and when he didn't, Tully continued. "I'm sorry for lying to you. That wasn't right."

"We'll try not to act like Sarge and pester you," Hitch added. "We do still want to get to know you better."

"Yeah. You're invited to every Thanksgiving and Christmas for the rest of your life."

"You really do not have to do that, Tully," Dietrich muttered.

"Too late. Already did."

"Did Troy make you do that?"

"No."

"Are you telling me the truth?"

"Cross my heart."

Hitch had left the kitchen and went around the counter to sit by Dietrich. He was tempted to put his hand on Dietrich's shoulder again, but hesitated. He wasn't even sure what to say, aside from, "You're not gonna kick us out, are you?"

"Let me think about that," Dietrich said. He stood up. "I would like to be left alone."

After Dietrich went back outside, Hitch looked at Tully. "Didn't he just ask to be left alone when we were talking with him by the fence?"

"Yep," Tully said with a nod. "Let's give him a few minutes."

"Why?"

"He'll just get more frustrated if we don't respect his wishes. Just gotta be patient."

Hitch nodded in agreement. He could be patient. He just hoped he brought enough bubblegum to keep himself occupied.

Tully washed what little dishes there were, all while looking out the window and watching Dietrich as he kept working in the yard. Dietrich seemed to have endless energy, moving right from lugging rocks out of the grass to getting a push mower out of the shed and going up and down the yard with it.

"Should we go help him?" Hitch asked, sipping on another glass of iced tea.

"I have a feeling he wants to do this by himself," Tully replied.

"We did offer to help earlier."

"I know." Tully kept watching. "He's working up a good sweat out there." He took a glass from one of the cabinets, and filled it with cold water before going outside. Tully tried to look casual, and wondered if it would be best to just leave the water somewhere for Dietrich to find. He dismissed that idea, not wanting the water to get warm. Or for Dietrich to ignore it completely.

Dietrich kept going until the yard was halfway done. He stopped in front of the patio, and looked at Tully, breathing heavily. "Do you need something?"

"I came to give you this," Tully said, holding out the water.

Dietrich hesitated, then took it. He gulped down the entire glass, and handed it back to Tully. "Thank you." He went back to the mower, but Tully held out his hand.

"Hey, could we talk for a minute?"

"I would like to finish the yard."

"Just a few minutes, sir."

Dietrich sighed. "Alright." He slumped down in one of the chairs on the patio. "What would you like to talk about?"

"I just wanted to say that I'm serious about wanting to start things fresh with you." Tully sat next to him, putting the empty glass on the table between them. "Do you remember when we were going after Lieutenant Kautner in that SS camp, when you were disguised as Moffitt?"

"How could I forget that? That was quite the adventure."

"More specifically, do you remember when you and Sarge were arguing, and I turned and told you that we could easily just shoot you and run, so you needed to shut up?"

"I do remember that."

Tully paused. He didn't particularly like remembering what he said. It was rude, cruel, and he had said it out of frustration. It had come back to haunt him a bit after he was told Dietrich was in the hospital a month ago. I should've been kinder. "I shouldn't have said that to you. It… It wasn't right." He braced himself for Dietrich to get upset, but instead, he heard a quieter, more somber sigh from the former captain.

"I forgive you, Tully."

"Thanks." Tully faced Dietrich. "I know it kinda seems sudden, but—"

Dietrich held up his hand. "Try not to beat yourself up over it. That was five years ago, said during a heated moment."

"Yeah. I'm just glad that I had the chance to apologize. I hadn't thought about it since it happened, but after… you know, I started thinking about it again and decided I needed to apologize at some point."

"I appreciate it, but… try not to dwell on it too much, or you will end up like me." Dietrich weakly smiled. "We all say things that we may come to regret later on. I have lost count of the things I have come to regret saying."

"I once got angry with my dad before I enlisted," Tully said. "He passed away during the war, when we were in Italy. I never got the chance to apologize."

"What were you angry at him over?"

"Granny's inheritance. She'd passed about a year before, and they were still trying to figure out who got what because it took so long to find her will. I loved her, but she hoarded just about everything in her attic—and we found out there were boxes upon boxes of stuff in her basement, too. It was a nightmare. Anyway, I said that I was supposed to get Grandpa's old guitar—that was left to Granny after he died six years prior—and my dad said that he remembered the will saying that guitar was going to one of our cousins. I argued, said some things I shouldn't have, and…" Tully sighed, "I didn't get the guitar, that's for sure." A smile crossed his face. "I was good on that old thing. Played all sorts of stuff. Even wrote a few pieces—really short pieces. I'm not that good with sheet music and all that."

Dietrich's smile became more genuine. "You should see me with a piano. I used to be pretty decent, but I have not played in years. It probably would not sound very good if I tried now."

"Same here. I'll be honest, I kinda saw you more as a music listener than a player."

"I used to have a collection of records—including some that had been banned under the Nazis. I lost them when my apartment was destroyed in a bombing raid on Munich. But, yes, I did play a little. One of my first jobs was actually playing piano in a restaurant. It did not last very long, but the six months I did that were among the best in my life."

"What happened?"

"As much as I loved it, the money was not enough to sustain me, and I grew tired of the Gestapo agents who would come in occasionally and make sure I was not playing anything I was not supposed to. I did night work for a few months after that. Believe me, that was quite a strange experience, in good ways and bad."

"There's just something unnatural about it." Tully kept quiet, unsure if he wanted to tell Dietrich about the fact that he ran moonshine during Prohibition, and how many of those runs took place at night. Not yet, but I'll tell him one day, Tully thought.

"I do have a good grasp on sheet music," Dietrich said, changing the topic. "Should you ever acquire your own guitar, perhaps I could show you a few things."

"Aw, geez, Dietrich, I couldn't—"

"I insist. I think it would be a good thing to get back into."

"You know…" Tully paused to think, "you're right. We should do that." He grinned, surprised that this was the result of a conversation with Dietrich. He had expected Dietrich to dismiss him when he came outside with the water and asked to talk. This could all change within a few hours. He could swing right back to being depressed. Talking about stuff like this seems to help. It makes him happier. He's definitely right in that this is something we could do together. "I guess I should let you get back to mowing the lawn."

"A pity. I was enjoying this conversation," Dietrich said. "I suppose we can continue it over lunch." He stood to return to the mower.

Tully didn't let his shock and joy show on his face, but he did smile when he got up and went back inside to start making lunch.

Hitch watched from inside the house while Tully managed to get Dietrich to stop mowing the lawn and have a drink of water. He was impressed that Tully got Dietrich to sit and talk as well, but he couldn't hear anything they were saying, nor did he want to interrupt.

So far, it had been Tully who had been able to get Dietrich to stop and just talk without the German becoming guarded and defensive. Hitch wondered what he had to do in order to achieve the same result.

He took a look around the house, as he remembered being told by his mother once that he could learn a lot about someone just by seeing how they made a house a home. What was on their bookshelves? Did they leave any particular books lying around? How was their kitchen organized? Their bedroom? Their living room? How did they host guests?

There wasn't much on the bookshelves in Dietrich's living room. It was a mix of German and English books, with a largely disorganized selection of topics, ranging from history to maps to language. Hitch looked down at the coffee table in front of the couch. There were a few large atlases on it, but also a smaller, more manageable book on top of them. Hitch was gentle as he picked the book up, and noted it was a journal about Levantine archeology. Curious, he opened the cover, and smiled upon seeing a familiar name in a note on the title page.

"Capt. Hans Dietrich – Jack told me you might be interested in this. It was published by a colleague of mine who had countless expeditions all across the Levant throughout the last thirty years. He had some interesting stories for sure! I would advise you to not be drinking anything when you get to the chapter on the rogue camel in Jerusalem. Get well soon. – Dr. Nicholas Moffitt."

Hitch was still grinning as he closed the book and set it back down. I didn't know Moffitt told his dad about Dietrich. This was really nice of him to do.

Apart from a painting of a sunset in the port city of Kiel, the walls in the living room were bare. The windows were open and letting a gentle breeze in. The fireplace was very clean, and looked like it hadn't been used in a while. The only smell in the house was that of the tea and the flowers wafting in from outside. Hitch imagined Dietrich appreciated not having sand in everything. That had certainly been tough to get used to when the Rats were moved to Italy.

He remembered opening the hood of one of the jeeps and being surprised at not seeing sand in it. In some ways, he missed it, as it had become a key part of his routine. Beyond that, not much changed. Troy and Moffitt were still the same. Tully was the same. Really the only major thing that had changed was that they didn't see Dietrich again, and that was the strangest change of all.

Hitch went back out to the kitchen, and could see Tully and Dietrich were still deep in conversation. He looked toward the stairs, feeling a bit anxious about going up. It seemed invasive, but he was curious. I won't go through his things. Just look around the room. He went upstairs, a somewhat tight, nauseous, fluttering feeling suddenly enveloping him. He took a deep breath, and entered Dietrich's bedroom.

The bed was neatly made, as Hitch expected. The closet and dresser were orderly as well. There were a few books on Dietrich's nightstand, along with an empty water glass. Under the books was a stack of papers. Hitch carefully lifted the books up, seeing the fold lines in the papers. He figured Dietrich was using the books to flatten them, then recognized the handwriting on the top paper. A letter from Moffitt? Hitch looked closer at the paper, and saw the paper was dated 1946. These must be all the letters he never read because of his depression.

A heavy feeling settled in Hitch's chest. He suddenly felt unsure about what he and Tully were doing, but quickly told himself to stop thinking too hard about it. Sarge thinks we can do this. He trusted Troy's judgement, but another thought began creeping into his mind. What if he's wrong? What if we're not adequate for this? Hitch let out a sigh. Neither of us could ever comprehend what Dietrich's going through, because we haven't experienced it ourselves. Does that mean we're inadequate? No. We've got the compassion and desire to help. Still… what does Dietrich need? I doubt he'll tell us.

Hitch put the books back down on the papers, making sure they were exactly as he found them. He heard the back door open, and quickly went downstairs, where Tully was closing the back door behind him, looking very excited. Hitch was relieved that it was only Tully, as he didn't want Dietrich suspecting that he was going through his stuff.

"What's got you so happy?" Hitch asked.

"Dietrich actually wants to eat. Can you believe that?" Tully's grin widened.

"I'm a bit surprised, yeah. What did you do?"

"Nothing. I just talked to him about forgiveness and music and then he said he wanted to finish mowing the lawn and 'continue the conversation over lunch.'"

"Wow." Hitch followed Tully into the kitchen. "What're you going to make? Dietrich doesn't have much."

"I don't know. I'll come up with something." Tully opened the fridge. "I see eggs. I see cream cheese. I see strawberry jam. Put that together and I see French toast sandwiches."

"I thought those were for breakfast."

"I've made pancakes and scrambled eggs for dinner, and chicken-fried steak for breakfast. I can make French toast sandwiches for lunch."

Hitch nodded. "Okay, then."

There was a pretty sizable stack of sandwiches made by the time Dietrich came inside from mowing. He was immediately handed a glass of iced tea by Tully, and told to sit at the counter.

"What on Earth is this?" Dietrich asked when a sandwich was slid in front of him.

"It's a French toast sandwich, full of cream cheese and strawberry jam," Tully said.

"I thought you were making lunch, not breakfast."

"It's breakfast for lunch."

"I said the same thing," Hitch said, halfway through his own sandwich. "They're really good, but really filling."

"Still, eat as much as you want." Tully gave Dietrich a warm smile, then looked at Hitch. "Did you ever play any instruments?"

"Well, I once took my older sister's saxophone and blew into it really hard when I was little just to be annoying. Other than that, no."

"I cannot imagine your parents or your sister were too happy with you," Dietrich said with a slight laugh.

"Nope. I got grounded for a month for that." Hitch took a drink from his tea. "On a few separate occasions, I hid the case, her practice music, and once the saxophone itself because I got sick of her playing the same damn tune over and over again. That was when my dad gave up and said I was going to join a sport because if I was sick of hearing my sister practice, I was 'in the house too much.' So, then I was doing baseball right up into college."

"What were you attending college for?" Dietrich asked.

"Architecture. Graduated with a bachelor's, Wake Forest, class of 1938. Went home and worked on a lot of bridges up until the war started."

"1938. Goodness, that was the year I worked as a busboy at a hotel in Munich."

"You really did bounce around jobs, didn't you," Tully said.

"Right up until I became a Heer officer, yes."

"I know I was working as a butcher's assistant back then. Three years later, I enlisted."

"Same here," Hitch said. "Sarge enlisted, and Moffitt did, too."

"Yep. And here we are now. I don't think any of us would've thought we'd be sitting in the house of a German officer and talking over iced tea and sandwiches."

"You were the last people I expected to ever be talking to after the war ended," Dietrich said. He looked down at the counter, and added in a quiet, somber voice, "But, you are the only people I have left."

Hitch and Tully exchanged a glance, then returned their attention to Dietrich. "I thought you had a few people you still talked to."

"They all live far away, and have families that they are struggling to take care of. I heard that many of the men in my former unit from North Africa decided to stay in America or Britain. Those who did return, I have not heard from. I doubt they will want to see me, especially… after everything that happened, and if they were to find out I was being friendly with the men who killed their brothers, I doubt that would go over well."

"Maybe. You never know," Tully said. "I'm glad things have changed."

Dietrich nodded, but didn't say anything.

Hitch scrambled to find something to change the topic. This really is going to require a heck of a lot of patience. "So… you play cards, Dietrich?"

Author's Note: The incident Tully refers to where he told Dietrich to shut up was in The Crystal Ball Raid. I was told by a reader that it didn't feel in-character for Tully, and I considered erasing that exchange entirely if I ever did a "remastered" version of that story, as I've come to agree that it doesn't feel like something Tully would have said. Instead, I decided to use that line as a chance to have Tully and Dietrich's relationship as friends grow, and address how that line really wasn't something Tully should have said at all.