Troy was impressed. And he didn't impress easily. "It was a slick operation, Moffitt."

"I must agree, Troy. Very well done indeed," Moffitt said.

"Whoever pulled it off definitely knew his stuff. He only used a handful of men, didn't fire a shot, only killed one guy, and lost none of his own men. In and out in just a few minutes."
"Frankly," Moffitt gave Troy a sideways grin, "it was a raid I would have expected from you."

"Thanks. I'll take that as a compliment. Even if you are comparing me to a Kraut." Grinning himself, Troy finished his beer and signaled the waiter to bring another round.

Moffitt sat back in his chair. "So who was it? Any leads?"

"Nah, Intelligence is still working on it."

"Hope you're not holding your breath." Moffitt raised a skeptical eyebrow. "That could take a while then, couldn't it?"

Troy chuckled at Moffitt's well placed pessimism at the oxymoron that was Army Intelligence.

"And Miles is still relearning how to speak. They don't know if he'll ever fully regain his voice. He was only able to provide a general description, nothing definitive." Moffitt took a sip of his mixed drink and made a face like he'd been sucking on a lemon. "That is bloody awful!"

"Serves you right for getting all fancy, Moffitt." Troy slid his untouched beer across the table and signaled the bartender again. "At least Miles was treated okay by the raiding party, especially by the commanding officer."

"I'm sure that their kind actions will be a great comfort to the boy. Once he stops having nightmares as a result of the trauma of being abducted." Moffitt shook his head in angry disbelief. "Really, Troy! Abducting children! That's an all-time low, even for the Nazis. They must be becoming fairly desperate to resort to such things."

Troy nodded. "It's sure not something that we would have seen two years ago."

"It will probably qualify as a war crime." Moffitt's eyes were as cold as his voice. "And as well it should."

"Probably," agreed Troy, taking a sip of his fresh beer. "As slick as the operation was, I wouldn't want to be the guy who carried it out. I mean, kidnapping is one thing, but I'm hearing that the Nazis are up to far worse things in the occupied territories."

"True. If he was ordered to do that, God knows what kind of awful things he'll get caught up in before the war ends."

Troy thought about all of the things that he'd been hearing about the increasing cruelty of the Nazis. Kidnapping a kid was just the tip of the iceberg. Some of the things Troy had heard about were so horrifying that they were almost unbelievable. A look at Moffitt told Troy that he was probably thinking about the same thing. After all, they'd all heard the rumors for a while. Now, as the war progressed to its end, they were just getting worse. And Troy would bet a case of beer that they weren't just rumors any more.

It was Moffitt who finally broke the silence.

"There was something odd, Troy, that happened to the boy when he was being guarded by the officer leading the raid."

Troy looked up from his beer. "What's that Moffitt?"

"Well, the boy was looking at a portfolio of drawings sketched by the German officer."

Troy frowned. "Why was he showing pictures to Miles?"

"It was a long journey, perhaps it was merely to pass the time?"

Troy was becoming irritated with Moffitt. "Okay, spit it out. What's the point of you telling me that?"

Moffitt leaned closer. "One of them was of a nude woman."

"You're kidding? This guy showed pornography to a kid?" Troy shook his head in disgust as his professional opinion of the unknown officer plummeted. "Pervert."

Moffitt smiled. "No, Troy, it really wasn't all that risqué. Just an art drawing the officer had sketched. Apparently of his fiancée."

"Fiancée, huh?" Troy thought about that for a moment. "Bad time for a Kraut to be engaged."

"Bad time for anyone to become engaged, if you ask me," Moffitt agreed. "We've still got quite a bit of war before it's over. But as a German, you're right, I'd especially take pause."

"Yeah. It would be the last thing on my mind, with a war raging, and me on the losing side of it." Troy took a drink and thought of his own upbringing. "Wouldn't want to make the woman a widow or leave my children fatherless."

Moffitt nodded. "You should be aware, Troy, there was another drawing of interest in the sketchbook."

Troy was leery of where Moffitt was heading. "Okay, I'll bite. What was it?"

Moffitt paused for a moment and looked away, not answering.

"Come on, what was the significance of the other drawing?" Troy was starting to wonder what exactly Moffitt had to tell him.

Moffitt finally met Troy's eyes, "It was of you."

"Me?" Troy was surprised. "Also naked?"

Moffitt, who had just taken a drink of his beer, very nearly choked from the effort to keep from spraying Troy with it. Managing to swallow, he started laughing until tears appeared in his eyes.

"I am sorry, Troy . . ." Moffitt began to apologize, but the words didn't come before he had started laughing again.

It took him several minutes to regain his composure, with Troy glaring at him all the while.

"You know, you should give a fellow some warning before you ask a question like that." Moffitt wiped his mouth and at his eyes. "No, you weren't nude. It was just a standard portrait of your upper torso, apparently drawn by the same officer."

"Huh," said Troy, puzzled. Why in the world, he asked himself, would some random German officer be drawing a portrait of him?

A sudden twinkle came to Moffitt's eyes. "Unknown though, if you were unclothed on your lower torso."

Once again, Moffitt looked dangerously close to hysterics.

Troy gave him a warning look.

Troy was intrigued despite himself. "But how? Why? I don't get it. Miles was sure it was of me?"

"Positive. The artist had even placed your name on it. In fact, it was such an excellent likeness that Miles recognized you from it when he saw you during the rescue operation. He couldn't believe it was you."

"Did Miles ask about the picture?"

"He did, as a matter of fact. The officer indicated that you were an acquaintance."

"Strange." Troy thought about it for a moment more. "And what was I doing in the picture?"

"Nothing. Apparently, it was a standard portrait, just like you had sat for the artist."

"Was there a picture of you, Hitch, or Tully?"

Moffitt thought for a moment. "Come to think of it, no. At least not that Miles mentioned or saw."

"What else was in the sketchbook? Any clues? Any information on who he was, or about his team?"

Moffitt shook his head. "Nothing that struck me as important when I heard it. Pictures of a horse, a tank, a house, other German officers, a graveyard, a . . ."

Troy cut Moffitt off. "I don't get it. Why? I don't fit with the other pictures he drew. Besides, how would he know enough to draw a picture of me?"

Moffitt started to answer but Troy waved his hand, effectively cutting him off.

"Just a rhetorical question, Moffitt. I'm not really looking to discuss theories of why things are the way that they are."

"Yes, and that's really all they would be, isn't it? Theories? And as interesting as it is to speculate, we'll likely never know why your likeness appeared in that sketchbook."

Moffitt turned his attention to his beer, letting Troy to think about what he'd just learned in peace.

A courier interrupted them, handing Troy a sealed manila envelope. "Sergeant Troy, Captain Boggs asked me to deliver a file to you. Army Intelligence was able to dig up the information you requested."

"Thanks." Troy turned his full attention to the envelope. "We'll with any luck, we're going to find out more about our mystery officer. Wonder who the artistic bastard is?"

Moffitt eyed the envelope with curiosity. "What do you have there, Troy?"

Not answering, Troy slit open the sealed flap and pulled out two full-sized photographs along with a tightly spaced biographical sheet of information. He looked at the photographs, staring at them for several seconds. He briefly glanced at the biography sheet, focusing on the last few lines. He then slid the information back into the envelope before tossing on the table in disgust.

"Troy, what is it?" Moffitt asked, concerned. "Looks like you've seen a ghost."

Troy lit a cigarette and stared off into nothing. "I have."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense. Who is it?"

Troy crossed his arms against his chest and remained stubbornly silent as if not talking about it would make it less true.

Moffitt sighed. "May I at least see for myself?"

Resigned, Troy nodded his approval. "Go ahead."

Moffitt eagerly reached for the envelope and pulled out the photographs. He studied them, glancing between the two, comparing them. The strong features were boldly captured by the camera. There was no doubt who the man was.

"Well, now," Moffitt said, with a frown. "It's our old friend Dietrich, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Troy said.

"Looks like the most recent one was taken for a pay book, or an official document," Moffitt said. "The second photograph, definitely propaganda, could have been taken when he received his commendation after Jufra."

Troy thought that sounded as likely as anything.

Moffitt continued studying the earlier photograph, as if analyzing it for any additional information or clues. "Odd, isn't it? For Rommel to be giving him the commendation, and not Hitler. I thought Hitler preferred doing these type of events himself. I would wager that Dietrich was likely seriously wounded and unable to travel to Berlin." Moffitt shrugged. "No doubt Dietrich would have preferred receiving it from Rommel anyway. I know I would have."

Once again, Troy silently agreed with Moffitt.

Moffitt turned his attention to the other photograph. He placed both, side by side, on the table, comparing them. "Hard to tell when the latest photograph was taken. Something more recent than Africa, probably within the last few months. He looks older, doesn't he? The war is aging him."

"It's aging all of us," Troy said. "We'll all be old men if it doesn't end soon. Physically and mentally."

"True enough." Moffitt sighed. "I know some days I feel as though I'm a hundred."

"Me too," Troy admitted. "Maybe older."

With the barest hint of a grin, Moffitt turned his attention to the biographical sheet. He read it with just as much interest as he had shown towards the photographs. When he was done, he neatly shuffled it all together and placed it on the table.

"Well, now we know how the artist knew me well enough to draw the picture," Troy said.

"Makes one wonder about the 'why', though," mused Moffitt. "It's all very odd, isn't it?"

Odd, thought Troy, was a word that kept coming up.

And the whole thing was odd. He'd think that Dietrich would rather think of any number of things besides him in his free time. But yet, the guy had made the effort to complete a portrait of him, a very detailed likeness.

The whole thing was just weird, and Troy found it unsettling.

They sipped at their beers for a few minutes before Moffitt broke the silence again.

"Looks like we know what happened, or rather what didn't happen, to Dietrich? He didn't defect, and he wasn't shot by the Gestapo. You were always convinced that he safely made it out of Africa, Troy. I guess we know now that you were right."

Troy remembered the speculation about Dietrich that he and Moffitt had shared while Troy had been recuperating from Guest's torture. "Never doubted it for an instant."

"You were also right about Italy. According to the Intelligence brief from the packet, Dietrich recovered there before being ordered back to France to work with Rommel. Lucky bastard wasn't sent to the Eastern front after all. It would have been the more logical assignment given his extensive tank experience." Moffitt shook his head. "But then, who knows how any army makes its postings, eh?"

"You got that right," Troy said thoughtfully. He fixed Moffitt with a look. "Makes just about as much sense as assigning a Ph.D. from Cambridge to a US commando unit."

"Touché, Troy." Moffitt laughed. "I'm sure that just like with everything else, there's more than meets the eye concerning Dietrich's ability to be able to avoid the Eastern front."

Grinning, Troy shook his head. "Who knows? Maybe his old man pulled some strings to have him sent to France instead."

"Sounds logical. I had forgotten about his father being General Erich Dietrich. I doubt, though, Dietrich would particularly care for or want interference from his father."

Troy was done discussing the minutia of the situation. The only thing that mattered to him was where current events were leading all of them.

"Well, it doesn't really matter how, or why, he was ordered somewhere," Troy said finally. "He ended up in France, which is where we're probably heading next. You're getting too focused on past details that have no real bearing on the future."

"Perhaps. But something that happened to him must've changed him. I can't imagine the Dietrich we knew doing such a nasty piece of work. Looks like he's no different than the other Nazis after all."

"Maybe, maybe not. Who knows at this point in the war? Sometimes I question my orders and their necessity, too, Moffitt. If he received orders from his higher ups, there wouldn't have been much he could have done about it."

"Still making excuses for Dietrich, Troy?" Moffitt asked, his good-natured tone almost softening his somewhat pointed question.

"Not in the least. He and his men treated the boy decently and they minimized the casualties. Seems like he did what he could to limit the situation," Troy said. "Just like the rest of us try to do when the circumstances are less than ideal."

Before Moffitt could even open his mouth again, Troy glared at him.

"At least Dietrich doesn't appear to have suffered any long term effects from the torture in Ater," Moffitt said, wisely changing the conversation's direction.

"Maybe, maybe not." Troy shrugged. "No way to really know, is there? Sometimes you can't see all the damage that's been done."

Moffitt seemed to suddenly be fascinated with the faded script that marked his bottle of beer. "Too true."

"It is, isn't it? I now wear a size larger in boots, thanks to Guest. But that's not the worst of it. It's the memory of it. Waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat because I've been reliving it over and over again in my nightmares . . ." Troy gave Moffitt a sideways look. "But I don't need to tell you any of this, do I? You've been there, too."

"Of course I have been, Troy. And you're quite right, the physical damage heals long before the psychological damage does." Moffitt looked grim, obviously thinking of the pain and misery that he had been dealt at the hands of others in the course of his time in the war. "I wouldn't wish it on any man, not the enemy, and certainly not upon Dietrich. We all just want to forget about it, don't we?"

"Doesn't work like that, does it? We sure as hell don't always get what we want."

"Damned war," Moffitt said with feeling.

For a moment, Troy thought back to the torture he had shared with the German officer, along with their escape several days later. "I can't put my finger on it, Moffitt, but it seems like something else happened to Dietrich back in Ater with Guest, something more than just the torture and heroin."

"Oh?" Moffitt asked.

Troy picked up the more recent photograph of the German officer, staring at it intently. "He looks hard around the eyes."

Moffitt leaned closer, studying the photograph that Troy held. "Except for being older, he looks exactly the same to me, Troy."

"Nah, he's different. I've seen him too many times in combat, and out, not to know."

Whatever it is you believe to be bothering Dietrich, Troy, he'll just need to face it. Just like the rest of us." Moffitt pushed his chair away from the table and made an exasperated noise. "Won't he?"

Troy would bet that Dietrich faced his demons every day. Just like the rest of them. He still couldn't help but to wonder what exactly Dietrich's were.

"Perhaps he has come to the realization he will be on the losing side in the war, and he probably won't make it back home to Germany." Moffitt shook his head sadly. "If there is by some miracle anything left of Germany at the end of this."

Troy picked up the documents and placed them back in the envelope. "I'm sure Dietrich realized Germany was going to lose the whole war when we were back in Africa. He'll make it to the end of it, though."

"You're making a fairly large prediction about Dietrich, believing he'll survive. It would be a big prediction to make about any of us."

"Have I been wrong yet?" Troy asked, with a grin.

"No you haven't," Moffitt agreed, somberly. "You've been dead right each time."

"It's odd, but I've always felt like something was drawing all of us together. Including him. Something I can't explain. I've felt this way from the first time I went up against him, long before you even joined up with us."

"There are millions of men fighting," Moffitt reminded Troy. "Even if we were all to survive until the end of it, the likelihood of any of us crossing paths with Dietrich again is incredibly small."

"Yeah." Troy downed the rest of his beer.

"And if he's sent to the eastern front?" Moffitt looked daunted at the reality of it all. "His odds of survival are basically null. Both during and after the war."

Moffitt, thought Troy, could say what he wanted. And really, as per usual, what Moffitt was saying was logically sound. But, logical or not, Troy knew that Dietrich would survive and they would see him again. He really didn't need to convince anyone of it, including Moffitt, because Troy himself was already convinced.

"You said it yourself, Moffitt." Troy shrugged. "I've been right about everything else, haven't I? I'm right about this, too."

"Well, maybe there is some type of higher power bringing everything together. Good of an explanation as anything else, I suppose," Moffitt said, finally. "We'll just need to wait and see what the future holds for us."

"Everything except the shouting will all be over by this time next year, Moffitt," Troy promised. "We'll find out then what happened to Dietrich. I don't think he'll be sent to the eastern front. But my gut's telling me that it won't be pretty for him here in the west, either."

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Many thanks to Susan, my beta reader, for all her unending assistance and patience with me for my story. Most of all, thank you Susan, for bringing to life Troy and Moffitt's voices.