A hand lightly settled on my arm shortly after I jumped down from the panzer. I immediately wretched my arm free and quickly reached for my sidearm. I whirled to see who had dared to touch me. The strong gray eyes of Oberst Roland von Kleist gazed at me apprehensively. I quickly recovered my decorum and holstered my weapon before smartly saluting my commanding officer.
We stood in the pouring rain for a few seconds. He examined me before calmly addressing me.
"You're edgy, Dietrich. It's not usual for one to draw a weapon on their commanding officer," he said with a light voice, masking the seriousness of the situation. "Was there an incident with the partisans today?"
"The SS handled the situation effectively, Her Oberst," I said, as my adrenalin rush slowly began to subside. "One might say too effectively. But it is prudent to always be alert given the partisan presence in the area," I easily lied, without apologizing for my strong reaction against von Kleist.
If von Kleist suspected the true reason for my conduct, he left it unsaid. Instead, he focused on the lie I had given him. "True. These peasants wouldn't give it a second thought before slitting any of our throats."
Careful not to touch me again, he waved for me to join him. "Enough said. Dietrich, I need you in my office immediately." The issue must be urgent if von Kleist was delivering the request himself instead of sending his adjutant.
Von Kleist waited for me expectedly as I gave a few brief orders to Hahn and my men. I then turned and left, walking silently with him the short distance to the command center.
I found myself lying more and more since my abduction in Ater. The untruths frequently spilt from my mouth to explain my occasional erratic behavior. I hated doing so, but I found lying was an easier alternative.
Unless I invited it, I did not care to be touched by anyone. An unexpected touch triggered negative emotions, both mentally and physically. My response could be especially extreme when the offender was a man. I had thought my reactions would have subsided after so many months from Guest fondling me, but instead they had become firmly ingrained in my psyche.
There was something broken about me. Normally with the assistance of smoking and drinking, I silenced my weaknesses and forced myself to place them aside. When I did have cause to turn my focus inward, I would realize that having such emotional deliberations indicated that I should be seeking the assistance from a medical professional, namely a psychiatrist.
I would laugh out loud at such a preposterous thought.
This was wartime Germany with a tightly mandated culture, not Vienna at the turn of the century with an open and enlightened society. As a German officer, I was expected to accept any difficult situation I encountered and continue fighting until my death. I would lose my command, not to mention my life, for demonstrating such a mental weakness in the confines of Third Reich.
I was familiar enough about psychiatry that for it to aid me in any way, I would need to be completely open and honest, requiring me to admit what had happened to me at the hands of Guest. It would be impossible for me to have such a candid conversation with a German professional. I would be unable to escape the very real concern of the authorities being notified. I could be labeled a homosexual and face dire consequences. It would be an inconsequential fact that I had been an unwilling victim, with no physical desire in the least for men.
And my family's reaction for seeking psychiatric assistance? It would be one of deep shame brought upon them for me being unable to control my weak emotions. They would rather admit to me being a murderer than being mentally unstable.
I forced myself to place my weaknesses aside, normally with the assistance of smoking or drinking, to silence them.
After the cold rain and wind, von Kleist's office seemed stifling hot and dry. I had had enough of these arid conditions in Africa and had little desire to experience them in France. I wanted to throw open the window to emit the fresh air. Instead, all I could do was to shed my sodden greatcoat which had been begun steadily dripping unto the floor. I removed my cover, running my hand through my hair.
"Have a seat, Dietrich," von Kleist said, nodding towards a chair.
I sat there expectedly, my cover in my lap.
"So what is the real reason for your jumpiness, Dietrich?" Von Kleist pulled out a pack of cigarettes from a drawer and casually tossed the pack to me.
I shook out two, and handed one to the oberst. He leaned forward and I lit it, before lighting my own.
I left his question unanswered. I was not going to inform him that I had no desire to be touched by another man, no matter how innocent the action might be.
"Combat related?" he continued pressing. "The last thing I need on my staff is another officer who has anxieties from being in combat. You've seen extensive combat since 1939. Your current duty should be a welcome relief, even if you are occasionally dealing with the partisans."
Von Kleist blew out a plume of smoke, intently looking at me while doing so.
I gave a short laugh. God, how I wished it was combat related. At least then I would have an excuse and understand how to deal with the trauma. Instead, my anxiety was due to me being undeniably weak and unable to accept it. I should have moved past my assault months ago.
Von Kleist looked at me expectably, silently demanding an answer.
"Herr Oberst, I have not seen what I would consider actual combat since I left Africa. There have been minor skirmishes with the partisans, but I would hardly call those combat." I evaded his question, but responded honestly. While a part of me welcomed the respite from the constant death, there was a larger part of me that greatly missed it. I had not joined the military to build fortifications and barricades along the coastline.
"Frankly, I find my current duties rather mundane and unchallenging. I feel more like a staff officer than an officer trained for the field. Apparently, I am one of the few who is actually looking forward to seeing actual fighting again."
Von Kleist gave a short laugh. "Ah, Dietrich! Wouldn't we all like to pick and choose our orders? I hate to disappoint you, but our profession does not work so neatly. I doubt even Herr Field Marshall Rommel would choose his current orders."
I bowed my head slightly as a sign of contrition. I understood, but I still did not desire my orders.
"The more we prepare now, the smoother combat will go when the Allies arrive. They will arrive soon enough."
Von Kleist peered at me closely. "Anything else you care to bring to my attention?"
"Nothing, Sir," I said directly, returning his strong gaze.
He kept me waiting for a few moments, both of us smoking to relax from the day. He finally told me the real reason why I had been brought here.
"You are about to have a respite from your 'mundane and unchallenging' duties. I've recommended for you to lead a special mission."
I immediately became attentive, eagerly leaning forward to catch all of his words.
"Kindly inform me of the details."
"You are to select six men to accompany you to the Island of Rhodes. When you arrive, you will be provided the actual details of your mission."
I waited for von Kleist to continue with additional information, but he remained silent. It was uncharacteristic of him to be secretive.
I thought for a moment before responding. "Sir, do you have any additional information available? It would assist me in choosing the appropriate men and equipment. You've provided me very little to determine the mission's needs."
"I've given you all the information I was provided. The mission carries a top secret classification. The mission will originate on Rhodes; I know nothing else." Von Kleist shrugged his shoulders. "I was requested to recommend an officer and to allow him the freedom of selecting his own men. As for equipment, anything necessary will be provided on Rhodes."
I frowned. Normally, I preferred the autonomy of my mission, allowing me to determine how to accomplish it. But this time, I had absolutely no details to base my decisions.
Von Kleist thought for a moment before continuing, taking a few drags on his cigarette. "There is one minor piece of information I can give you. Apparently, the standard winter issue will not be suitable for the mission's climate. Your team will be issued tropical uniforms when you arrive."
I couldn't stop my pulse from increasing when he mentioned the tropical issue. My mind immediately went to Africa and that the mission could be remotely connected to the Afrika Korps. I began to ask von Kleist additional questions but he waved me off impatiently.
"I really have no further details, Dietrich. The mission has been purposely left vague for security reasons."
Von Kleist paused before continuing. "There is one other thing of which I believe you should be aware."
I became even more intent, eagerly hanging on his words. "What is it, Herr Oberst?"
"You were not the original officer I selected to lead the mission," he admitted frankly.
I sat back in my chair. I coolly took a drag on my cigarette, not caring for this fact.
"Hauptmann Mueller was the one who originally received the nod. Of course, I had chosen him before he became incapacitated due to his injury."
I looked at von Kleist suddenly, instantly understanding the extent of "incapacitated".
I had known Rolf Mueller casually, both of us rising middle officers. He had served capably in various European theatres before being assigned here approximately the same time as I had been.
A little more than a fortnight ago, Mueller had had a lengthy firefight with a partisan commando group which had completely unnerved him. He had sought me out, desperately wanting to understand the resilience I had shown against the Rat Patrol. I spoke to him freely of my extensive encounters and experience against the commando group, my few successes along with my numerous failures against them.
I also detailed my frustration and the high loss of life, and the Rat Patrol's unnerving tendency to appear at the most unexpected moment which kept tension at a heightened level.
Soon after our last conversation, Mueller had received a non-lethal wound. I had seen and heard too much during my almost four years of combat not to recognize how the injury had occurred. However, while I heard of enlisted men performing such acts, I was unaware of any officers doing such a deed.
Although it was natural for anyone entering combat to have fear, as a German officer, he should have dealt with his anxiety instead of allowing it to engulf him. The terror of leading this special commando mission must have overcome Mueller, driving him to his action.
Apparently, I had not been alone with this thought because Mueller had quietly disappeared a few days afterwards.
My God, what had we become? I agreed that his act was cowardly and unbecoming of an officer, but to execute him? Had the Wehrmacht reached the level of the SS?
I could vaguely hear von Kleist speaking, pulling me from my thoughts regarding Mueller.
"I selected you afterwards to be Mueller's replacement." He shook his head. "I had originally recommended you to lead the mission, but the commanding oberst requested a different officer."
I did not care to be a second choice. It indicated that my commanding officer believed I was lacking in a skill and could not be depended upon given a particular condition.
"What was the reason for you selecting Mueller originally?"
"For a very simple reason: Mueller spoke Greek and you do not. It was a requirement of the mission. I frankly believe you are a more qualified officer with much deeper experience, especially for a commando mission, but the requesting oberst specifically wanted an officer who spoke Greek."
"I will be sorry to disappoint him," I said coldly. I spoke six languages and several different dialects, but apparently they were not sufficient. "Is the ability to speak Greek still critical to the mission? If yes, then a third replacement will be necessary."
"There is no time to locate someone else. Time is of the essence for the mission. The first window of opportunity has already passed. You will need to suffice and make do with the languages you do know."
My eyes narrowed. I had never been told in my career about needing to "suffice". The mission was beginning poorly.
"An interesting turn of events with the same ultimate outcome," von Kleist added brightly.
"Yes," I responded with a chill to my voice.
"And who will I be temporarily reporting to?" I asked, barely containing my anger.
"Oberst Bruno von Graff."
My face immediately went stony and impassive at the mention of the oberst's name.
I had never cared for him and I knew the feeling was mutual.
I thought him completely lacking in any military skills, adding little, if anything, to the modern Wehrmacht. I could not fathom how von Graff was behind an important mission given his sparse background.
I had known von Graff from before the war and had encountered him on a few occasions at various functions since then. He possessed an aristocratic name without any of the land or financial holdings to support it. He had married into his money which he enjoyed at the expense of his long suffering wife. I did not believe in divorce, but I would have understood the decision given his wife's continued difficult situation.
Von Graff had been, briefly, an early suitor of my mother who had never considered him seriously for even a moment. Apparently, von Graff thought differently and had deluded himself into believing he had narrowly missed winning my mother's hand in marriage.
Von Graff revisited his past fantasy moment on one drunken occasion when he had attended a fundraising event at the Academy when I was a cadet and he had yet to be promoted to oberst. I was in the early stages of my probation and was serving at the event as part of Kommandant Schnass' work requirements.
Von Graff had cornered me as I was carrying a tray of glasses to the kitchen.
"Ah, Dietrich! Not exactly following in your father's footsteps by being a servant, eh?"
I ignored his belittling question and merely gave him a nod acknowledging his presence. "Major von Graff, if you would excuse me? I am needed in the kitchen."
I turned to leave when he grabbed my arm, preventing me from leaving. I barely avoided dropping the stemware which would be an inexcusable event in Schnass' opinion. I would be forced to work off their value on top of my other duties.
"Tell me, Dietrich. How is Alexandra?" Von Graff licked his lips as he asked me.
Even though he had courted my mother, I thought him unbelievably forward to call my mother by her first name after so many years had passed. She was now a married woman and he was not an immediate family friend. I realized he was inebriated, but I would not tolerate his condition as an excuse.
"My mother, Frau Dietrich, is well," I responded in a cold voice, using my mother's correct title. "My father, her husband, Herr General Dietrich, is also doing well," I added, looking von Graff firmly in the eye.
"Please excuse me." I attempted to leave again, but he tightened his grip on my arm.
The challenge to me was unmistakable and I decided to return it to him.
"And how is your wife, Herr von Graff?" I innocently asked. "I do not see her present this evening. There is another woman in her place." The pointed reference was towards the beautiful young woman I had seen him escorting earlier in the evening. I have heard various rumors of his varied affairs over the years and now they had been confirmed.
"Ah, you mean my wife's niece," von Graff responded, motioning to the woman's general direction. "My wife is ill so her niece was kind enough to accompany me."
It was on the tip on my tongue to innocently ask von Graff if he was aware that his wife's niece would "accompany" any man for a price at Garten Strasse. I had recognized the dark blonde woman earlier in the evening when I had offered her a glass of champagne. She had given me a slight smile as she had in turn recognized me from the few times I had enjoyed her company.
Apparently, von Graff was becoming careless to escort such a woman to an official social affair.
My pointed reference to his missing wife was lost on von Graff. He continued inquiring about my mother. "Your father is no youngster, Dietrich. Significantly older than Alexandra, almost by twenty years, if I remember correctly. Her family really should have insisted for her to marry someone closer to her own age."
I thought his continued forwardness appalling. "It was my mother's choice to whom she would marry," I responded darkly. "She desired marriage with no one either than my father and her family supported her decision."
Von Graff paused to look at me slyly, meeting my challenge. "You know, I courted your mother before she met your father." He gave a small chuckle, remembering the past. "You could have been my son, Hans," he said.
The thought of von Graff being my father revolted me. I was always baffled as to why my mother married my father, what she could have possibly seen in him when she had had her choice of so many suitors. As to marrying von Graff, I would have been completely dumbfounded beyond belief by such an action by her.
"No, it would have been an impossibility," I said frankly. "My mother would have never married someone shorter than herself."
Von Graff's face had immediately darkened at my insult. He had quickly reached out and slapped my face hard in rebuke. I staggered, dropping the tray of stemware which shattered on the floor.
"You insolent little prick! What impertinence you possess!" He continued striking me, each blow harder for emphasis. I almost fell to my knees, forced to accept his physical rebukes due to my concern of being expelled.
"I will speak to Kommandant Schnass regarding your boorish and disrespectful behavior towards me." He then stalked off.
If von Graff did speak to Schnass, which I seriously doubted, nothing came from it. Schnass was a close friend of my parents. No doubt Schnass would have agreed with my frank assessment of von Graff's poor behavior. Not to mention, the boldness for von Graff to be socially seen with a woman who was a paid escort. I had known Schnass since childhood and he would not have approved of von Graff's infidelity.
Later, the delectable woman had casually approached me while alone to refill her glass. I took her glass to refill it and she had lightly wrapped her hand around mine. Her cool fingers had felt electrifying against my bare skin when she had caressed my hand for a few brief seconds.
I found myself coloring due to her subtle attention. I had quickly looked around to see if anyone else noticed the effect she was having on me. The woman then leaned towards me, her low cut dress allowing me a glimpse of her lithe body on which was wearing no undergarments.
"The greenhouse at midnight," she whispered to me.
I had blushed deeply at her suggestion and lost concentration, overfilling her glass and the champagne spilling onto the floor. She gave a lively laugh before casually walking away, with a wink and a slight nod towards the greenhouse.
As much as I had wanted to accept her offer of gratuitous sex, I hadn't dared take her up on her offer due to the audacity of the suggestion. Even as reckless as I had become towards sex, my rendezvous with the woman while on duty would cross the line. If Schnass should discover it, my probation would end and he would expel me without a second thought.
"You appear to have known Oberst von Graff, Dietrich," von Kleist said. "Have you reported to him previously? I did not see it in your dossier."
"No," I said a bit too quickly. "I have not, but I have met him socially on a few occasions, dating back several years before the war," I said vaguely. "I have not crossed paths with him recently. It will be an interesting . . . experience reporting to him."
"Experience" was the only word I could politely think up. I took a final drag on my cigarette to take away the bad taste in my mouth caused by von Graff's memory.
"When are we scheduled to leave?"
"There is a transport plane leaving tomorrow morning. Von Graff has already been notified that your team will be on it."