A/N: Thank you so much to all those who've reviewed, they really do make my day. Thank you also to those who've been following along. Here's to hoping the next chapter is updated a heck of a lot sooner than this one.
The incessant drone of the camp's alarm seemed to be the only sign of life left.
Stepping a few paces away from Roberts' limp body, Dietrich took in the sight of the destruction the Rats had caused. To the left a pile of old oil drums were burning, to the right yet another staff car was in flames. In front of him the camp's gates lay wide open, a seemingly endless stretch of sand where a Jeep had retreated only moments beforehand.
Dietrich walked towards Roberts again. Crouching down, he put two fingers to the other man's neck.
No pulse.
He sighed, staring at the singer for a moment. Roberts looked peaceful, almost as though he were asleep. Dietrich probably would have believed it too, if there weren't two bullets slugged in the other man's gut. He glanced at his Luger, then back at the American.
You know something, Roberts? I couldn't pull the trigger.
Dietrich clasped his hands behind his back and headed towards the main office. Climbing the wooden steps, he turned to observe the carnage once more. Bodies were strewn all over the compound, flames continued to rise into the night sky. Lowering his head, he cringed as his thoughts turned to Colonel von Graff. The consequences would be huge, no doubt. The very reason he'd been sent to the middle of nowhere lay right in front of him yet again.
Dietrich let out a huff, then turned and made his way into the outer office once again. Aside from the deserted drinks which had been discarded during the mayhem, the room looked to be in order. Normal, almost. His eyes darted across the walls, and when he didn't find what he was looking for, decided to check Colonel Strauss' office. Entering the small room, Dietrich immediately spotted the camp's alarm controls located on the far wall behind the former Kommandant's desk. Avoiding the mess scattered about on the floor, he made his way over and flipped the switch.
Silence.
Dietrich allowed it to sink in for a moment before continuing through to his own office. Coming to a stop at his desk, he stared at the phone for a moment before slowly picking up the receiver. Failing his mission was one thing; disturbing Colonel von Graff in the evening was the icing on the cake. A few moments later, the operator came through.
"Get me Oberst von Graff, Island of Rhodes," Dietrich said reluctantly. "...priority call."
After what seemed like an eternity, the call was connected.
"Oberst von Graff," the Colonel muttered.
Dietrich cringed at the tone, but continued. "I'm sorry to disturb you this late at night Oberst, but –"
"Dietrich?" von Graff exclaimed. "For your sake, whatever the hell it is ought to be good."
"About that, sir ..." the Captain trailed off, realising he should have planned his words before making the call. "There's been an incident."
At that exact moment, an oil drum exploded outside.
"Start talking, Dietrich," the Colonel said, his voice coarse. "And so help you if those damned Rats have escaped. Again."
Dietrich gulped. "Well, not entirely. We did manage to recapture one of the prisoners."
"And?" von Graff asked expectantly. "Have you questioned him yet or must I think of everything for you?"
"He's dead, sir."
The Colonel slammed a hand on his desk, all the while muttering something about incompetence. A few moments later, he spoke up again. "Captain, if you do not have an explanation in five seconds you shall be dealing with the Gestapo before you even make it back to your base. Where's Colonel Strauss?"
Dietrich did a double take at the mention of the camp's former Kommandant. "... preoccupied, sir."
"Doing what?" von Graff spat.
"Being dead."
"Damn, Dietrich!" the Colonel shouted. In the background, another oil drum exploded. "You entered that camp less than twenty-four hours ago and already you have managed to further destroy the German war machine. What the hell is going on down there?"
Dietrich took a deep breath before continuing. "It all happened so fast, sir. A mere ten minutes ago we were all in the outer office when I asked my aid to bring in one of the prisoners at the request of the Kommandant. Apparently he and the other men were quite fond of –"
"Get to the point!" von Graff snapped.
"Well," the Captain cleared his throat. "I thought it was a little strange when my aid didn't return, but ..." Dietrich trailed off as it suddenly dawned on him what, or rather who was missing.
Mein Gott.
"Dietrich?" von Graff prompted impatiently. "Dietrich!"
The Captain looked from the office door to the telephone, then back to the office door again. Figuring his punishment couldn't possibly get any worse one way or the other, Dietrich abandoned the phone call and bolted outside. Coming to a stop on the wooden porch just outside the main office, he frantically scanned the faces of those lying in the compound.
"Vater!"
"Keep it coming, Tully," Troy said quietly. "It's just sand for miles."
From behind him, Troy could hear the pace of the lone Jeep pick up. Walking a little faster, he scanned the unknown terrain with his flashlight once more before confirming his statement.
"Just what exactly are you going to tell Headquarters?" Moffitt asked from the back of the vehicle.
"The truth," Troy replied. "That Roberts died trying to save me and Perkins."
"You know they're not gonna accept that, Sarge," Hitch pitched in. "When they find out you got a different guy outta there they'll have your stripes."
Troy turned, shining the flashlight in the Private's face. "Mark Hitchcock, the day I care about what headquarters has to say is the day I quit the war."
Hitch squinted at the light, grinning. "Your call, Sarge."
"What about him?" Tully asked, motioning to an unconscious Perkins in the passenger seat.
Troy glanced at the Brit before turning back to Tully. "He'll be alright. Took one hell of a beating from some goons earlier today and I'm surprised he made it as far as he did before collapsing. Nothing a doc can't fix, though. Moffitt, can you take a look at him once we're back behind our lines?"
"Will do."
"Oh, by the way Hitch," Troy said, turning towards the Private. "Just for the record, I believed what you said about Dietrich the other day."
Hitch looked like a kid who'd just had his favourite toy taken away from him. "Sarge, I swear if I weren't too tired to get up I'd be strangling you right now."
"Assaulting your fellow man is against army regs," Troy replied, grinning. "And in any case I owe the dear Captain a punch in the nose."
"Don't tell me Dietrich was stationed at that bloody camp?" Moffitt scoffed.
Troy nodded. "You better believe it. I've got no idea what the hell he was doing there but he was acting unusually cold. Even had me thinking you were dead for a little while, Hitch."
"Me?" Hitch replied, surprised. "I know the Cap's a sneak but that's just cruel."
"Yeah," Troy agreed. "Well whatever his angle was, I guess we won't find out 'til we run into him again."
"What makes you think we will?" Moffitt asked.
Troy turned around again, ensuring Hitch's glasses were still tucked away safely in his shirt pocket. "Because if there's one thing I've learned from all this, Dietrich has a habit of turning up where you least expect it."