March 1946
United States

They were still sitting on the kitchen floor of DiNozzo's Restaurant. Jethro had listened intently to Tony's story, noticing that the tremors had finally subsided.

"You think you could get back to your apartment now?"

Tony nodded. The Sheriff helped Tony stand. He swayed slightly but didn't fall with the strong arm that steadied him. Together, they made their way back upstairs. Jethro helped Tony to one of the dining room chairs while he went to get a bed ready.

Glancing into Tony's room, he could see the sweat stains that covered the linens and he knew they would need to be changed. He opened the door to DiNozzo's parents' room and pulled down the sheets from the bed. He then came back to Tony and headed him that direction.

Tony stopped short, "I can't go in there."

"Yes, you can, Anthony. We'll deal with all the ghosts tonight." Gibbs paused at the look of fear in the younger man's eyes, "Together. We'll do it together."

Tony nodded and let Gibbs lead him to the bed. DiNozzo hadn't ever been deeply religious. He had attended church because his mother made him. Since before he left for the Army and while in Europe he hadn't darkened the door of a confessional, although he probably should have. However, Tony couldn't stop before he crossed himself upon entering the room. Gibbs caught his embarrassed look but ignored it as he situated the soldier. Taking the other pillows, Jethro propped himself against the foot of the bed, getting comfortable for the rest of the night ahead. He knew this was going to get much worse before it got better.

"What happened next, Tony? Where were you sent?"

Tony's face became unreadable as he recited their movements, "We were part of an initial movement in an operation designated 'Unicorn'. We took a place called Le Stromberg Hill against heavy opposition in early November. We had to face a ton of counterattacks. From there we moved to the Hurtgen Forest and entered the Battle of the Bulge in late December."

Tony made eye contact with Gibbs, "I suppose this fight for me was your Battle of Belleau Woods, Jethro."

Gibbs was pleased that the young man had finally started calling him by his first name. "Rough then, huh?"

"Yes, sir. I think I heard somewhere there were over 89,000 killed, injured, captured or missing during that siege. All I know is that my commanding officer, Captain Carson was killed and that's where McGee nearly got his butt shot off." A ghost of a smile came to Tony's face as he said, "There was no way I was going to let anything happen to Tim. Mrs. Hanna McGee and her husband, Padraig," Tony pronounced it with the Irish, "scared me a hell of a lot more than the Germans."

"What happened?"

"It was bloody, sir. Men dropped all around you. I was fighting next to Captain Carson when he got killed." Tony looked forlorn, "We got our promotions at the same time."

Gibbs nodded as Tony continued, "When he went down, I was the closest officer so I just took charge. Started telling men where to go, what to do. Guess I did alright. I got everyone else out and didn't loose anybody."

This was the DiNozzo that Gibbs had been hunting for. Even all those years, as a teenager, he knew Tony had leadership ability. It just had to be channeled. War was never a good thing and it made some kids grow up too fast. But, in some instances, it made boys become the men they were meant to be.

"My Regimental commander, Major Fornell, heard what I did. How I took charge. He brevetted me to Captain so our division would have a leader. Said he couldn't have a 2nd lieuy leading the group."

"Is that when you got your Silver Star?" Gibbs quizzed.

DiNozzo ducked his head but answered, "I wouldn't leave Captain Carson's body there. I just couldn't. Plus Timothy was pinned down. My other good friend, Sergeant Kort gave me cover fire and I was able to get McGee and a couple more guys from another unit out. That's how I got it."

Tony's body had continued to rebel against itself. He alternated between fever and chills. He would still occasionally suffer the tremors associated with withdrawal. His stomach still ached and Gibbs knew Tony fought against retching several times. But by keeping him talking, Gibbs was able to keep Tony's mind off the physical discomforts and focused on the mental housecleaning that still needed to be done.

"How long did that phase of fighting last?" he kept Tony engaged.

"We fought there until January. When word came down that we would be moving back to Belgium and the Netherlands for rehab, I convinced Major Fornell to let me have a three day pass."

"For Ziva?" Gibbs said knowingly.

"I made a promise, Jethro. I don't break my promises."

That was a statement the young Mr. DiNozzo was going to regret.

"Anyway, he allowed me to go but told me if I wasn't back in three days not to bother coming back. He'd have the MP's on me." Gibbs liked this Fornell guy, a man after his own heart.

"When I got there, Ziva's farm was completely destroyed. It was just a burned out shell. There was no one around to talk to so I had no choice. I went back to my unit and on to Belgium."

"Gotta say, DiNozzo, you saw more of Europe than I did on my tour."

"That's not necessarily a good thing, sir." Gibbs nodded and then encouraged Tony to continue. "We moved out again, about this time, a year ago. We were headed toward the Rhine. We took several more cities and established a defensive position on the West bank of the river. We crossed the Leine, attacking to the east, and pushed over the Harz Mountain region and then we took the city of Barby, near the Elbe, by April."

Again, Jethro shook his head. The terrain Tony's group had covered was mind boggling. And he was certain there were a number of encounters with enemy forces all along the way. That the man was here to talk about it at all was a miracle within itself.

Tony face had begun to show some emotion as he talked of his unit's campaigns. But, suddenly, Jethro sensed a change. He knew that these next few minutes were most likely Anthony's hardest.

"We, uh," DiNozzo cleared his throat, trying to detach himself from the emotion he knew was about to come, "we encountered our first Nazi concentration camp just a few days later." Gibbs leaned forward, inching his way closer to the head of the bed. Tony's voice had dropped to almost imperceptible. "It was, we later learned, a satellite camp from Buchenwald."

"So the stories were true. There were forced labor camps."

"This was no forced labor camp," Tony's voice took a hard edge; "This was a death camp, pure and simple. Officially, it wasn't an extermination camp like Auschwitz but it accounted for its fair share of carnage."

Tony grew restless as he continued talking about the camp, "You can't imagine what we saw. In your worst nightmares, you couldn't account for this. The smell was horrific. Kort told Tim and me about a trip he'd taken to the slaughterhouse in Chicago. He said this was a hundred times worse."

Gibbs shuttered. Having worked in the butcher shop all those years he easily got an idea of the smell. That it was the result of human decay was incomprehensible.

"The camp had rows and rows of barbed wire that would have cut anyone to shreds trying to get out. The men that came to meet us looked like walking skeletons, the skin hung so loose. We found out later that most of the deaths were from starvation. Malnourished and suffering from disease, many were literally 'worked to death'. It was either that or be executed."

Again, Jethro was struck by the suffering this young man had already seen in his life. He thought about stopping Tony but he could tell that once he had started, he wouldn't stop until he finished the tale.

Anthony's voice was now monotone as he continued, "Major Fornell was so appalled by the conditions that he marched the local mayor and some of the town's people out to the camp. He made them bring their own water and food to feed the survivors."

Again, Gibbs smiled, liking the way of the gruff Major.

"We found out that there were satellite camps all around the area that had to be checked. Many of the men couldn't handle it." Tony pierced Gibbs with a clear, direct stare as he said, "I volunteered for it."

Gibbs only nodded, allowing Tony to continue. "I found out that Buchenwald had one of the few women's barracks. The numbers held there was somewhere between 500 and 1,000. Most arrived between 1944 and 1945; most were Jewish, and there was only one barrack set aside for them. When the SS knew we were coming, they tried to evacuate as many as they could but so many were sick or dying, it wasn't worth it to the Germans. They executed them instead." Jethro closed his eyes because he knew what was coming next. Tony's simple statement confirmed it.

"I promised I would find her."

Gibbs looked into the troubled, tearful eyes of Anthony DiNozzo. "They shaved her head. I was told that they did it to all the prisoners to cut down the problem with lice. It didn't matter. She was still as beautiful. She was thinner but it was still her. I found out that a patrol had come upon her house. They told her they were moving her for safety reasons and that she could take some of her personal belongings. But it was a ruse. They forced marched her and about twenty-five others to Buchenwald. Separated the women from the men and put them to work. She got sick from the conditions and she couldn't make the evacuation march." He never broke his gaze with Gibbs as he said, "I was less than a week away and I couldn't get to her. I couldn't save her."

"And you're sure it was her, Anthony?" Jethro asked quietly.

"Her Star of David that they made her sew on her uniform? It was cut from the scarf I gave her. It was, without doubt, Ziva."

The tears flowed freely now as Tony continued, "That was it. I did go AWOL this time. I started walking and found a town that had a bar and didn't stop drinking until I passed out. That's where Trent Kort and Tim, along with two MP's, found me. When I sobered up enough to face Major Fornell, he read me the riot act. He refused to have me court martialed because the whole thing had taken its toll on all the troops, not just me. However, he couldn't let my insubordination pass. He busted me back to 1st lieutenant and that's why I only have one silver bar on my uniform instead of two." Tony paused and then continued, "At that point, I didn't care. When I wasn't on duty, I was drunk. Kort and McGee kept me from leaving when I wasn't supposed to and kept me on time for where I needed to be. For almost a year, I haven't gone a day when I didn't down at least one bottle of something: whiskey, bourbon, scotch. It didn't matter."

Tony expected Gibbs to be disappointed at his actions. Instead, he saw the look that Tony had hoped to see from his own father, one of acceptance and understanding. "God, I hate to admit this. But, you were right, you know. There was no answer in the bottom of those liquor bottles. And drinking alone did make the ghosts come faster. But, the one thing it did do? It kept me from dealing with my reality."

"And what reality was that, Tony?"

"That I couldn't save them. I couldn't save any of them. I couldn't save Carson or the other men I served with. I couldn't save Ziva. Hell, I couldn't even be here to save my own father."

Tony's body, mind and soul were totally broken. He collapsed into tears against the older man's shoulder. Jethro held him, not unlike Lyle Copeland had done for him over twenty-five years ago. Gibbs hadn't had to resort to a physical beating like Lyle but Tony had suffered none the less. He finally got Tony to lie back against the pillows and, within minutes, he was sound asleep.

Jethro left the bedroom, pulling the door to as he exited. He, too, was physically and emotionally drained. He put on a pot of coffee and looked at his watch. They had been up for over seven hours but he knew it was worth it.

He poured a cup of the steaming dark liquid and walked to the dining room table. He took the chair he had pulled out earlier for Tony. After a few sips, he put the cup aside and laid his head on his crossed arms. Gibbs was sound asleep.