You must stay conscious. No, don't give me that look. I tried to warn you.
"...Herr Hauptmann?"
"Hmm?"
"The prisoner, sir. What are your orders?" Private Bruner asked, looking at Dietrich expectantly.
Sergeant Troy. SS.
Dietrich refocused his attention on the situation at hand. Troy was lying motionless on the ground, the momentary blinking and the sight of his chest rising and falling the only reassurance that he was still alive. After being thrown from his Jeep, the American was in a dazed state, drifting in and out of consciousness as a result of the intense desert heat.
The Captain scanned through his men until he found who he was looking for. "Corporal, help me lift the Sergeant into the staff car. The rest of you, in your vehicles and return to base."
Manfred stepped forward as the rest of the men dispersed. When they appeared to be out of hearing range, he lowered his voice. "What are you planning, Herr Hauptmann?"
"Precisely what I said," Dietrich replied, gripping Troy's arms. "Carry his legs, would you?"
"You are not going to do anything, sir?" Manfred asked in surprise.
Dietrich sighed, his temper beginning to grow short. "Manfred, we have risked our lives for the last three days in an attempt to stop this from occurring. Now pick up his legs."
The young man scrambled to carry out the order, knowing any further increase in Dietrich's temper was not a welcome prospect. After a count of three they hoisted Troy's body up, and a few minutes later, he was left slumped in the front passenger seat of the staff car as Manfred took his position at the wheel. Dietrich sat himself atop the edge of the back seat, pulling his Luger out of his sidearm in the process.
Manfred glanced over at Troy, then back towards the Captain. "Sir, about the Sergeant –"
"What about him?" Dietrich cut in sharply.
Manfred wondered whether or not continuing was a good idea, but did so anyway. "Would it not be wise to try and help the Sergeant regain consciousness? After all, the SS do not take too kindly to unresponsive prisoners."
"In case I need remind you Corporal," Dietrich replied sternly. "He is an extremely dangerous enemy and is to be treated as such."
"Since when do you ever call me Corp ...?" Manfred trailed off, his unfinished question being met by the most piercing glare he'd ever seen. He looked up warily. "...Herr Hauptmann? Are you alright?"
Silence.
Perhaps he's in one of his moods, Manfred thought.
That's when he remembered Dietrich's words from a few days beforehand.
No matter what behaviour you may see me displaying within the next few days, I still want you to fight like the honourable soldier you are. Is that understood?
It was then the young man realised the true extent of what the Captain had meant. Gone was the honourable German, and in his place was a version of the kind of soldier he'd always loathed.
Without another word, he turned around and started the engine. As the staff car pulled away from the rest of the column, Manfred silently wished for the entire mission to be over with as soon as possible.
He just wanted his Captain back.
When this is all over with, I swear Moffitt's gotta teach me German.
Troy blinked repeatedly, trying to get a bearing on his surroundings. A quick scan of the horizon told him the prison camp was still nowhere in sight, though that piece of information wasn't making him feel any better. His head felt like it was about to explode, and he hadn't understood a single word of the conversation he'd managed to pick up between Dietrich and a fellow soldier.
First he tries to warn me, now he's trying to kill me. That'd be about right.
The staged capture hadn't exactly gone to plan. The barrage of enemy fire they'd driven into was almost too close for comfort, and as a result, Hitch had tipped the Jeep as he tried to avoid getting hit. The force of the fall had knocked Troy out cold, only coming around momentarily to the sight of Dietrich standing over him. Unfortunately, he'd been too dazed at the time to wipe the smug smile off the Captain's face.
Troy glanced towards the driver. A young man, likely not even twenty years old yet, he guessed. He appeared to look extremely on edge, gripping the steering wheel as if he would lose all control if he dared let go. Just another kid fighting in a man's war.
Troy's thoughts were interrupted as a round object was dug into his back. He darted his gaze towards the review mirror, his questioning glance being met by the likes of Dietrich's. He slowly turned his head to face the Captain, narrowing his eyes.
The Captain seemed to hesitate for a moment, before removing the weapon.
Dietrich stared at his Luger for a moment, before placing it back in his holster. He could put on a show of pushing and shoving the American later, he thought. For now, all he wanted was to enjoy his last taste of freedom. Well, about as much as he could enjoy it alongside a confused Corporal and an angry Sergeant.
He could have sworn the American was trying to communicate with him. It was something he'd begun to notice after multiple run-ins with Troy, those split second looks of courage mixed with fear and uncertainty that he'd flash in the face of danger.
Dietrich's thoughts moved on to his last conversation with Manfred. This was the boy who had looked up to him for more than a year, who had treated him as though he were a second father. But the look he'd given Dietrich not half an hour earlier had crushed any sense of self-worth he'd managed to retain. Manfred had looked so lost.
The Captain wondered if his tactics were all wrong. He had hoped that by separating himself emotionally from all those around him, he would be able to perform the terrible actions required to complete his mission successfully.
But that's when he realised he'd never felt so alone.