I slowly returned to my quarters. I was emotionally and physically exhausted. I entered my room, and casually threw my pack aside as I quietly shut the door behind me.

I had only been gone a few weeks, but the sterile room looked unfamiliar and uninviting. It was little larger than a monk's cell. There was a small sink in the corner and the only furniture was a narrow bed and a small writing table with a chair. The starkness reflected my loneliness and turmoil.

I had originally planned on showering and then sleeping until late the next afternoon. I was dead on my feet, but I placed the thought of sleep aside. It was now no longer an option.

It would be impossible for me to sleep tonight after the difficult events I had experienced over the last few hours. No, for me to sleep would mean my dreams would be visited by Guest. Even from his grave he had the smug satisfaction of turning my dreams into nightmares.

I always had a vague premonition when Guest would pay my nightmares a visit. I had attempted to ward him off with capacious amounts of alcohol, but it did little good. He visited at night usually after I was extremely stressed and exhausted. And tonight the premonition was overwhelming.

The nightmares with Guest were always so realistic! I never saw his face, but I knew it was him. I would be able to smell his nauseating cologne, which failed to conceal his overpowering perspiration. I would find myself chained to a wall facing it. And then it would begin.

The nightmares never contained memories of the torture, only of him touching me. I would always awake with a start, drenched in perspiration, believing I was again being held his prisoner in Ater. The last nightmare had been truly distressing, the increasing sexual violence against me unspeakable.

Before Guest, I had rarely experienced sleep problems. I could literally count on one hand the number of nightmares I had experienced in my lifetime before my capture. Now, they seemed to invade my tranquility all too frequently. I thought it ironic that although I regularly dreamed of being in combat, none of those dreams had ever turned into nightmares. They were always professional and straightforward, even the ones involving Troy and the Rat Patrol.

Shaking my head to rid my memory of the nightmares, I lit a fire in the small stove hoping to chase the chill from the room and from my bones. With a sigh, I began stripping off my damp uniform placing it in front of the stove so it could dry. It was then that I noticed a stack of letters neatly placed on the writing table.

I eagerly glanced through them, pleased to see that several were from Agathe. I had not received any letters from her for quite some time and had become very concerned. I had blamed her silence on the increasingly erratic mail delivery, but the doubt of her safety was always present in the back of my mind.

Smiling at her memory, I looked at the dates. The letters were old, the most recent one was dated over six weeks ago. I frowned. It was unlike Agathe to wait so long before responding to the letters I wrote her almost daily.

I sat down and placed them in order by postdate. I then hungrily tore the oldest one open, eager to reconnect with her.

I reread it several times before placing it softly on the desk. The letter contained the joyous and heartbreaking news that I was to be a father.

I was blindsided by the unexpected news. While I had thought about fatherhood when I was with Miles less than a week ago, it had now became a reality.

Agathe's letter was dated November 13. I counted backwards quickly. I had last been with Agathe in June which would make her approximately five months pregnant when she wrote the letter.

She explained how she had thought it best to delay informing me since the early stages of her pregnancy had been difficult. She had wanted to ensure the health of the baby and her own self before notifying me of the wonderful news. Agathe had not wanted to add anything more to my extreme difficulties after what I had experienced during my final days in Africa.

My mind settled on Agathe and the arduous time she must have confronted after her pregnancy became obvious. I could only imagine what she had faced alone, the stigma of being unmarried and pregnant, the possible disdain and estrangement of her family. Although having children outside of marriage had become increasingly common, even encouraged under the Nazis, there was still an extreme prejudice regarding it within the social circle to which we belonged.

I cursed myself for not insisting for us to be married in Italy after we became engaged. Father Leone, the Jesuit doctor who had cared for me, would have gladly performed the ceremony. It would have quietly bypassed the intrusive and intensive background checks required for marriage by the Nazi regime. Through marriage, Agathe would have been entitled to an allowance for being an officer's wife. The allowance would have been increased after the child was born and would have provided for the both of them.

I quickly began reading Agathe's other letters, desperate for news of her and the child. I savored them for the next half hour, intimately connecting with Agathe through her words and the touch of her letters.

Each letter built off the previous one, providing more news with growing anticipation and joy. While there was happiness over the child, her letters also contained a growing despair over lack of word from me. The anxiety my silence was causing her became more and more evident with each letter.

Her final letter was dated the beginning of March. She had returned to Hamburg, but was now living in an apartment since her family's home had been destroyed by Allied bombing raids. I knew that Hamburg was becoming increasingly targeted by Allied bombers due to its harbor and nearby industrial centers. Although I tried to convince myself that she was safer in Hamburg than in a field hospital at the front or in Berlin, the concerns still grew within me.

Agathe assured me that she was safe, but begged me to write to her soon. She was desperate to hear from me, needing me to assure her that I was well. While not stated directly, I could sense her fear that my silence was due to having abandoned her when she had notified me of the unforeseen pregnancy.

I looked up from her letter to stare across the room. Surely Agathe knew me well enough to realize that I deserting her at this time would be the furthest thing from my mind. I had a profound reverence for pregnancy and fatherhood. Even if we were not yet married, it would have never occurred to me to respond to the news with anything other than deep love and a determination to secure our future and that of our family.

Agathe ended her letter by stating that the baby had dropped and would be born any day. I glanced down at my calendar. Today was March 15th. I smiled. The baby must have been born by now. Was the child a boy or a girl? While I had always wanted a son, I would gladly love and treasure a daughter just as dearly.

I reread all of the letters before placing them neatly on top of the thick bundle of her other letters which I kept in a drawer.

A profound sadness seized me.

In the space of less than thirty minutes, my life had completely changed and would never be the same again. I had missed the glow of Agathe's pregnancy and the wonder of watching our child grow within her. And when would I experience the amazement of holding the child for the first time? How many months or possibly years from now? Would I live to see my child and be reunited with Agathe? The war was entering its final stages and there were no guarantees for my survival. There was the very real possibility that neither would ever see me again.

I was now filled with a deep shame that I had contemplated being unfaithful to Agathe only a short time ago. Agathe was the woman who had carried and borne my child. She deserved a better man than myself.

I finally turned my attention to the other letters I had received.

There were some letters from my mother and sister which I would read later. Mixed among them were a few letters from women I had casually known in the distant past who still clung to me despite my silence.

The single letter from my father I would discard, unopened and unread.

I lit a cigarette and stared out into the emptiness of my sparse quarters. The room began to fill with smoke as I continued mentally debating about what I must do.

I then made several decisions impacting my immediate and long term future.

I slowly stood up. Tonight, I would go to the lines where the remaining men from my unit were keeping watch. Standing watch with them would push aside my impending nightmares. Sleep would eventually arrive tomorrow when I was too exhausted to avoid it. After I awoke, with my mind refreshed, I would bring my journal up to date.

I showered and closely shaved. I dressed in a clean uniform, thankful for its heaviness and warmth in the colder climate. I poured myself a small whiskey before sitting down again at my writing table. I lit a cigarette and lazily smoked it, drawing the smoke deep into my lungs. The alcohol and cigarettes helped me feel vaguely human again. They helped take the edge off my racing body and mind and the cravings gradually subsided.

I reached into the drawer and removed a small photograph of Agathe, the only one I had of her. I gazed at it for several moments, my thoughts consumed with her.

"Ah, Agathe! How I pray to God that I will be reunited with you and our child soon."

Once I had stubbed out my cigarette, I began working on my letters, occasionally sipping from the whiskey.

I wrote a long letter to Agathe passionately telling her of my deep love of her and our child. I explained that my silence was due to having just now received her letters informing me of the news. Surely she must realize that as a man and her fiancée, I would never abandon her.

I expressed my overwhelming desire to see the both of them as soon as possible. I provided her the dates of my leave and several possible locations where we could meet. I wanted to immediately marry her, to ensure they would be taken care of while I was away.

I shared with her the good news of my promotion which led into my next subject. Without providing her the underlying reason, I informed her of my decision to request a transfer to the Eastern front. I added how I trusted she would accept and support my decision for such a difficult choice, even given its inherent danger.

Finally, I offered her my plans for after the war. I looked forward to a future life with her and the baby, beginning over again after immigrating to Australia. The generous inheritances from my grandparents would be more than sufficient to support us in a comfortable life until I established a new career.

Sealing the envelope was difficult, as if I was ending a momentary connection to her.

I sat there for a few minutes, lost in my thoughts. I happened to glace at my calendar again.

"Wednesday, March 15th," I said out loud. "The due date for income taxes to be filed in the United States." I smiled at the inconsequential piece of trivia, trying to remember who had burdened my brain with such a negligible fact.

I remembered with a start.

It was Perkins who had informed me of the date's significance. He had glibly told me it would be the day I received my promotion to major, he had prevented me from committing suicide. At times, I debated myself if his visits were real or just hallucinations. But, I possessed Lyon's lighter, the proof of their visits.

Suddenly, a sense of dread seized me and I greatly feared for Agathe and our child.

If Perkins was accurate regarding the day of my promotion, could he also be correct about everything else he had mentioned so nonchalantly? About my marriage to an American redhead? It was impossible for Agathe to be that woman.

"No, please no . . ." I whispered. Everything was falling into place too neatly, as the fortune-teller and Perkins had both predicted.

I immediately wrote Agathe a second letter, expressing my concern for her remaining in Hamburg. The two of them should immediately relocate away from the city and industrial center. They should remain, though, in the western half of the country which I assumed Britain and the United States would control after the war. This should keep them relatively safe, away from the Soviets who would eventually arrive from the east.

I urgently asked her to forward me her new address given the growing unpredictability of mail deliveries. I would immediately begin seeking a safe, permanent place for them to live until the war ended. I knew the abbess at a convent near Coburg. I would contact her to see if the convent and nuns would be willing to provide refuge for the both of them.

I felt marginally better after I had completed my second letter to her. I hoped it would spur Agathe to immediately contact me. The declining war situation was the cause of her silence, nothing more, I tried to assure myself.

I next wrote to von Kleist, formally requesting my transfer to 4th Panzer Army posted in the east. I outlined the skills and experience I possessed and how they would serve a greater benefit there than to my current unit stationed here in France. To ensure von Kleist received my letter, I would personally deliver it to his adjutant when I returned to duty in a few minutes.

I stared at my writing paper for the third letter, wanting to avoid it, but realizing it must be written. It was now time to face it after avoiding it for so many years.

I removed another cigarette from the pack, waiting several seconds before lighting it. I looked across the room, staring off into the past of my life.

My father was ingrained in my soul and would never leave. Instead, it would be necessary for me to leave him. I was desperate to be free of him as I was to escape the crutch of heroin I used to completely numb me against his unattainable high expectations.

I realized from my initial conversation with Guest that it was my fears and doubts which led to my insecurities about being a man. If only I could obtain my desire to be perfect, to be the perfect son and the perfect soldier, I would then be finally bestowed my father's approval and along with it, his love and respect.

It became blatantly clear to me: It was the lack of my father's approval which was driving my addictions.

It was critical for me to face and accept my addictions in order to obtain complete control of myself. If I was unable to control my addictions, my life would continue to spiral downward and eventually my only option to be rid of them would be to commit suicide.

"Forgive me, Irene," I said in a soft voice, staring out across my quarters, envisioning her in front of me. The oath I had made to Irene ten years ago greatly troubled me.

"Forgive me, Irene," I repeated. "I am unable to keep my promise to you. It was wrong of me to make it almost a decade ago. I made it under false pretenses, when I was a foolish young man in love. I swore on my honor with the hope it would win you and your love by doing so. I should have known that I would never be able to fulfill it."

I committed myself to the decision I had made. I prayed to the Almighty, softly chanting the words to give me hope and strength from all of my addictions:

"Oh merciful God, I pray for me, enslaved in body and spirit, that your love and grace may set me free and make me strong."

I picked up my pen, dipped it into the dark ink and composed my final letter of the evening. It was the briefest of the three and took me only a moment to complete it.

The note was to my father, severing all ties with him. I needed to break away from my father, even though it would come at the expense of losing my mother and sister, both of whom I loved dearly.

Sir,

I was recently informed that my posting to Northern Africa instead of to the Eastern front with the Sixth Army was due to your intervention. While your interventions have been a constant re-occurrence in my life, this action has now made them intolerable.

It is critical for me as a Wehrmacht officer, and as a man, to prove my own capabilities without your interference, no matter what justifications or reasons you may possess. For me to be assigned to an area considered less dangerous, or one more advantageous, undercuts my service to Germany and also all of those who are serving in both areas.

It is for this reason I am severing all ties I have with you. I have no desire to be in contact with you now or anytime in the future. I have made the decision not to return to Coburg after the war ends. I will instead reside elsewhere until I am able to make arrangements to emigrate from Germany.

H. Dietrich