The torrential downpour made it difficult to hear anything that anyone was saying. His black uniform clinging uncomfortably to his skin, SS-Hauptsturmführer Kurt Veidt resisted a shiver as he crouched down to lift a litter containing a battered, but breathing British bomber crewman. "Ready?" he called.

"Ready!" Sergeant Carter replied. "One… two… lift!"

The two men lifted the litter and began trudging through the blood-spattered mud and rain to get to the others. Thunder crashed overhead, and lightning briefly illuminated the crashed Lancaster bomber that was crawling with POWs from Stalag 13 trying to pull survivors out. Huge conifers that were knocked down during the crash lay on top of the plane, their wet, prickly branches plastered against the bomber's brown and green hull.

"How many does that make?" Colonel Hogan shouted over the rain pelting against the bomber wreckage.

"This is number seven!" Carter said. "He's alive, Colonel!"

"Alright. Five survivors, two dead. Let's get them out of here."

"Watch your step!" Sergeant Kinchloe called. "It's all mud and loose ground from here!"

The crewman in the litter Veidt and Carter were carrying weakly reached up, moaning something, then grabbing his chest while grimacing.

Broken ribs. Veidt shuddered as he recalled breaking his own ribs the winter before, while helping Carter get a German private who was being experimented on by the SS to safety. He knew exactly how the man in the litter felt.

"Colonel! There's no way we're going to be able to get these men in the tunnel!" Corporal Newkirk hollered over the rain and thunder. "We need a new plan!"

"The plane crash took down trees that're blocking the roads!" Hogan responded. "We can't get a truck this way!"

"Taking them off the stretchers will be risky," Corporal LeBeau said. "We don't know how badly some of them are injured."

"We will have to take that risk," Veidt said.

"There must be something else we can do," Newkirk replied.

"I don't think there is one," Carter said.

"We cannot just stand here and argue about this," Veidt added. "The longer we stand here, the more likely it is these men will die!"

"We could kill them just by taking them off the stretchers!" LeBeau shouted.

"Well, we cannot take them through the gate or under the fence! We will have to take this risk!"

"Veidt," Hogan said, "you sound almost like a German officer. Take it easy. Look, I don't like this either, but we really don't have a choice. We can't leave these men here. Let's get moving."

Carter looked over his shoulders at Veidt as they made their way through the wet, green hell of the woods to get to the tree stump tunnel. "You okay?"

"I am fine! I am not important right now," Veidt snapped.

Carter didn't respond. He kept walking, and so did Veidt.

What Hogan said was right. Then again, I am supposed to sound like an officer—in front of other officers. Not with him and his men. Veidt looked down at the injured man he was helping carry. I am saving his life. I have changed… What if this gets all of these poor men killed? It will be my fault! I said we have to take this risk! It will be all my fault!

"Veidt!"

Veidt yanked himself from his thoughts, but he felt as though he was trying to fight his way out of a whirlpool.

Carter kept glancing at him. "You sure you're okay? You're breathing heavily."

"Tired, Carter. Keep moving," Veidt said.

Carter looked like he wanted to argue, but he faced forward and kept going.

Lightning briefly showed the men that the tree stump was up ahead. Strong winds, thunder, and rain made it difficult to see or hear much of anything, but the only thing certain was that they still needed to avoid the searchlights.

Kinch and Olsen went down into the tunnel first, ready to receive the injured bomber crew. Veidt found himself shivering after putting his litter down. It was better to think about the cold. At least he wasn't thinking about the potential disastrous failure ahead of him. The proof that I am still the man I thought I turned away from. No, no, no… this proves nothing. Making a poor decision does not make you evil. Incompetent, maybe. I do not see how that is better. Veidt crouched by the man in the litter. Rain dripped from his cap's visor. The feeling of his wet, heavy clothing against his skin was increasingly uncomfortable. He wanted badly to get in the tunnel and put some dry clothing on.

A sudden pop of blue caught Veidt's attention, and he noticed the injured crewman's eyes were open. The man was staring into space. He tried drawing in a breath, but his face contorted in pain.

Hogan looked over when the crewman started moaning in pain. "Veidt, can you keep him quiet, somehow?"

Veidt didn't question that. He frantically tried to find a solution, and settled on gripping the crewman's hand in his sopping wet glove. "I know it hurts. You will be alright. Believe me, I have broken my ribs before." Veidt looked the man in the eye.

The crewman's eyes shifted to Veidt's. "You… speak English?"

"I do," Veidt said.

"You wear… SS uniform."

Veidt didn't respond. His grip tightened on the man's hand. "It is a disguise."

"You seem too nice for the SS. I see…" The crewman broke off coughing. Horror pierced Veidt's gut when he saw blood speckling the man's lips.

"See what?" Veidt asked. "What do you see?"

"See… you are trying to help. The SS… wouldn't do that."

"Alright, let's get the chatty one down in the tunnel," Newkirk said.

"Please, be careful. He has broken ribs," Veidt replied.

"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing." Newkirk gave Veidt a reassuring smile. "Last one coming, Kinch!" Newkirk shouted when he approached the tunnel with the injured crewman.

"Everyone else, inside!" Hogan ordered once the last crewman was in the tunnel. He waited until the others were heading down the ladder before going in himself, and closing the hatch above him.

Veidt was quick to avoid everyone else while heading to the room where Hogan's men kept their German disguises. They had plenty of spares he could borrow. He peeled off his wet uniform, then found himself needing to sit while only in his socks and trousers. That is all this is—a disguise. I am wearing a disguise. That is all it means to me. It meant something different at one point. Praise. Validation.

He jumped when a shadow passed over the entrance to the room, and turned to see a concerned-looking Kinch. "Hey, you okay?" the mustached sergeant asked.

"I b-believe so. Why?" Veidt asked.

"Carter said you seemed upset after the colonel said you sounded like a German officer."

"I was not upset. He was right. I was letting the tension of the situation get to me. It does not bother me."

"But it does bother you. Otherwise, why are you in here by yourself and looking stressed?"

Veidt bit his lip, and looked at the packed dirt floor. "I… You got me there."

"You know, we've worked with you enough times to know that whatever you did in the past is not who you are now. You don't have to prove yourself every single time, because you already have."

"I know I do not have to prove myself to you. It… feels like I am trying to prove to myself that things have changed, and I do not know what it will take to do that."

"We're all our own worst enemy."

"I literally was 'the enemy' at one point."

"Yeah, but I'm talking about right now. You're not even fighting your past self anymore—you're fighting the fear that you're going to become your past self again."

Veidt nodded. "I do not know how to stop fighting. I… feel that if I do not critique myself constantly, I will slip."

"There comes a point where critiquing yourself becomes nothing more than beating yourself up. Everyone here can see that, you know."

"They can?"

"Carter considers you a close friend. He doesn't like seeing you upset. I know Newkirk and LeBeau can act like they don't care at times, but they do. I've heard them say that you seem stuck. Even Hogan's wondered if it would be better for you to go to England."

"No. No, I must stay. My position is far too valuable to lose. I will not leave unless Kaschel suspects something is wrong."

"Well, I hate to sound harsh, but if you want to stay, you gotta fight this. You've done more than enough to prove that things are different."

Veidt nodded again, drawing in a breath. "You are right. I have changed."

One of the prisoners' medics, Sergeant Wilson, peered into the room. "Veidt? I'm gonna need your help with treating some of the men."

"What for?" Veidt asked.

"Don't you have healing potions? It's going to be a while before London can send supplies with the weather, and the crewmen need to be stabilized."

"I have a few." Veidt stood, and he and Kinch followed Wilson out to where he was treating the crew of the fallen Lancaster.

"They're all sedated so they're not in pain, but it won't last long," Wilson explained.

"I have a sedative potion. It only takes a few drops, so you will have more than enough. General healing potions, regenerative potions—do you need anything specific?"

"Do you anything that'll help with broken bones?"

"That will fall under the regenerative potions. A standard regeneration potion is not nearly as effective as one specialized for broken bones, but it will help, and is far better than nothing."

"Alright. We'll make do with what we have. Thanks, Veidt."

After helping Wilson administer the potions, Veidt was summoned to the radio room by Hogan. "I want to thank you for your help tonight, Veidt," Hogan started. "I know you weren't even here on a social call, but it's a good thing we had you. A little extra manpower goes a long way."

"You are… most welcome, Colonel," Veidt said. "I am always happy to help."

"You can stay down here while you wait out the storm, unless Kaschel's expecting you back soon."

"No. He does not even know that I am out."

"Good, so you can book a stay at the Stalag 13 bed and breakfast, complete with your own personal French chef."

Veidt grinned a little. "I appreciate it, Colonel."

"No problem. Get some rest."

Veidt nodded before turning to leave the room.

"Veidt?"

The German paused, and looked over his shoulder at Hogan.

The colonel was looking at him rather sternly. "You're a good man. You've proved that multiple times since we met you last winter. Quit beating yourself up over what you did. That's an order."

Veidt nodded again. Hogan did technically outrank him, even if they weren't in the same military. He just wasn't sure how he would carry out such an order, and he tried not to think too hard about it as he made his way through the tunnels to a small room with a cot. When he sat on the cot to take his boots off, he overheard Kinch and Carter talking out in the tunnel.

"How's Veidt?" Carter asked. "He was really upset when we came back down here."

"He'll be fine," Kinch replied. "I gave him a little pep talk."

"Seems like all we do is give him pep talks sometimes. I don't know what else to do."

"I think he needed to hear it from someone else."

"Am I not doing a good job?"

"You're doing a great job, but Veidt…" Kinch let out a sigh. "He needs a little push sometimes. We all know he's changed a lot—"

"He doesn't see it that way, though."

"I know. It'll take time, and I'm not saying it's a bad thing that you're nice to him, but there's a big difference between being nice and—" Kinch paused, sounding like he was struggling to come up with the right word, "coddling him when he falls apart. There are going to be situations where you won't have time to stop and talk about what's bothering him. You gotta push him sometimes. Not too hard, but he won't improve if he doesn't take even the tiniest step forward."

Carter gave a slight snort of laughter. "I mean, I don't want to sound like a German officer with him."

"Hey, you play a great German officer, but you're way too nice to be a real one."

"Maybe I shouldn't be the one helping Veidt, then. He does need other friends."

"I'd be more than happy to help him, but I think this'll be a great learning experience for you, too."

"Okay." Carter was quiet for a moment. "Okay, I'll… I'll try. Thanks, Kinch."

"You're welcome."

Veidt wasn't sure he would ever admit to anyone that he overheard their conversation, but he did admit to himself that Kinch was right. He shifted to get comfortable on his cot, and closed his eyes, hoping that whatever happened would be the start of finally moving forward.