We Were Soldiers

118. Conscience

They stared at him through eyes dulled by tiredness. Bleak defeat painted every face. Some were too tired to even get up and look through their cell bars at the intruder. Nazis. Schmidt wasn't using captured enemy soldiers to work this place; he'd abducted his own people and turned them into slaves. In some ways, it was poetic justice. In other ways, it was worse. If Schmidt was willing to use his own people for forced labour, then he truly had crossed from eccentricity to insanity. There was nothing he respected except power, and how much of it he could gain for himself. He was a true monster.

One of the German officers in the closest of the cells stood up and peered at him through the bars. "Wer bist du?"

Steve cleared his throat. "I'm…" Who was he? Steve Rogers? Captain America? America's shield? None of that would mean anything to them. All it would mean is that he was their enemy. A man who should be trying to kill them as they tried to kill him.

Could he free them? Should he free them? They were enemy soldiers, the very same people he'd come here to fight. Jones had told him about one of the Jewish work camps the SSR had helped to liberate in France. It had been run by regular Nazi troops, just like these. If he freed those held here, would that be an insult to all the Jews who'd died in German cells? To all the men, women and children who'd lost their lives because one madman had deemed them unworthy of the lives God had given them?

All he had to do was walk away. To turn around and go back the way he'd come. Not a single one of his team would judge him for leaving. If he freed these men, they'd return to their units. A few weeks from now, after rest and recovery, they might pick up their rifles and march once more as part of the Reich. Those rifles would be used to shoot at Allied forces. Maybe even at Steve and his team. And perhaps one of the bullets would hit its mark, and he'd lose someone. Lose a friend. All because he hadn't walked away when he'd had the chance.

Do you want to kill Nazis?

The echo of Abraham Erskine's voice came outta nowhere. And with it, Steve's reply.

I don't wanna kill anyone. I don't like bullies.

Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are: not a perfect soldier, but a good man.

If Steve left these men to die, he would not be the good man that Erskine knew him to be. Through inaction, he would be a murderer. Maybe if this was the battlefield, it would be different. He wouldn't hesitate to shoot anyone shooting at him or his friends. But this wasn't a battlefield, and he shouldn't treat it like it was. He'd come here on a rescue mission, and it could still be that.

"I'm an enemy of HYDRA," he said. "I came to set you free."

"Why?" The German officer's grime-smeared face was a mask of skepticism. "We are at war, your people and mine. What do you gain from our freedom?"

"I deny Johann Schmidt a workforce," he said. And, because he was an optimist, "And perhaps one day in the future you might come across a similar place, one being run by captured American forces. And perhaps on that day, you'll remember what mercy means. Now, do you know which of the guards carries the keys to your cells?"

"There are no keys. Our cells are opened from a switch in the communications room, on the next level up."

Of course they were. Nothing was ever simple.

"Alright, sit tight." It wasn't as if they could do anything else anyway. "When I throw the switch, bring your men out and take them down the stairs at the end of the corridor. There's a loading bay, but I've taken care of the guards there. Don't leave without me—we're planning to flood the valley in a few minutes' time, and if I don't show you a safe way out, you might get caught in the floodwaters."

"We will wait," the officer agreed. "But I don't hold out much hope for you reaching the communications room alone. You are just one man."

Steve didn't bother correcting him. It was true that he was one man, but he wasn't just one man; he was America's shield.

Finding his way to the communications room wasn't the walk in the park he'd been expecting. The stairs at the end of the corridor didn't go up, so he had to find a different staircase, one that continued to the next level. This place was as maze-like as Krausberg, if not as big. Whatever they were building here was important enough to Schmidt to keep it hidden from Hitler, and the communications room might hold some of the answers. Project Valkyrie. It sounded ominous. The valkyries of legend were women who rode winged horses and carried the spirits of dead Norse warriors to Valhalla. It was hard to imagine Schmidt involved in something so benevolent. Probably just a codeword for some nefarious project designed to net HYDRA more power.

By some miracle, no alarms were yet sounding. The unconscious bodies of the guards had not been found. But time was ticking on. A few minutes. That was all he had to find the control room, free the prisoners, and grab whatever intel he could before this whole place was under water. Would it be enough? It would have to be.

En route to the control room, he came across more guards. They marched in unison wearing helmets that obscured their faces. It was hard to see them as human, when you couldn't see their faces. Maybe they weren't human. Maybe they were actually robots. Stark said HYDRA were experimenting with robotics, so maybe Schmidt had made minions out of machines.

He shook his head. That's crazy, Rogers. Robot soldiers? This isn't science fiction.

The enemy troops, whether they were robots or people, fell to his shield. The narrow corridors did have one thing going for them; when he tossed the shield at the wall, it bounced along it, rebounding off the helmeted heads until it returned to his hand as if it had a mind of its own. He couldn't have cleared the corridor faster even if he had a rifle.

The comms room was a Howard Stark dream; the equipment looked shiny and new, as if it had yet to see real work. One of the tables was littered with a pile of open books, some of which contained equations that may have been the answer to the meaning of life or a recipe for apple pie, and several maps pinned to the wall had been annotated with German words connected by red arrows to locations across the entire world.

On the far wall was a very plain-lookin' lever, the German word for 'cells' written above it. Steve took a step towards it then stopped, his gaze drawn down to the books on the table. Whatever this one was about, it had pictures of ancient ruins in it, and there was a very tropical vibe about it. Was it Africa? South America? Or somewhere in the Pacific? Was HYDRA as active in the Pacific Theatre as it was in Europe? If so, these books could hold valuable intel. Something that could help the troops still fighting Germany's allies overseas.

He could grab a few of these books, memorise some of the maps and equations—he had a good memory, it would only take a few minutes to get a couple committed. But if he took the time to do that, he might not have time to meet up with the prisoners and help them escape. Without knowing which way to run, they would get caught in the floodwaters.

…not a perfect soldier, but a good man…

Yes. Erskine was right, even now. He had to stand up for what he believed in, and try to encourage others to do the same. War was won by soldiers, but the future was shaped by ideals. If his future involved the memory of drowned men, men he could've saved if he'd had more courage to do the right thing… well, that wasn't the future he saw.

He flipped the switch. Grabbed three of the most interesting-looking books, and shoved them into one of the large pouches of his belt. When he tried to pull one of the maps from the wall, it tore down the middle, so he left it behind and dashed back out into the corridor. In the far distance he heard a rumble of thunder, and imagined the force of the water that had killed hundreds of people the last time the dam was breached. Peggy would definitely kill him if he died here.

On his way out, he stopped by the cells only long enough to make sure they were empty. No problem there; the prisoners had fled the moment their prison doors unlocked, spilling out into the factory in a flood of their own. They were probably halfway to outside by now, which was where Steve needed to be as well. He jogged on past the cells, towards the staircase. A new thunder arose; the heavy stamp of booted feet marching in unison. The sound echoed up the stairwell, and it was not the sound of exhausted and beleaguered troops fleeing for their lives.

His concern was fully realised when the first of the HYDRA reinforcements turned the stairs and raised their weapons as they spotted Steve standin' like a rabbit in the headlights. He had just a split second to think. His vibranium shield could deflect bullets, but on the subject of deflecting those HYDRA ray-guns, Howard was much more cagey. Vibranium was such a rare material that it was too risky to test it.

There was a window just to his right, and he was only three floors up. They weren't particularly tall floors, and it was technically the fastest route to outside…

Necessity decided for him. Those bombers could blow the dam at any minute. He'd already taken too long to find and release the prisoners, not to mention his brief diversion in the communications room. Now, he was out of time. He couldn't afford to get caught in another melee with HYDRA soldiers. He had to go.

Lifting his shield to cover his right shoulder, he leapt with as much force as he could manage. Sometimes, he forgot how much bigger and stronger he was now. The window shattered easily, shards of glass sprinkling his hair as gravity took hold of him and yanked him down hard. The ground approached and he closed his eyes, bracing himself for the impact. The shield took it well, and Steve felt nothing, not even a jarring of his arm. He was on his feet before the troops he'd escaped from could even reach the window to fire down at him, jogging around the building back towards the loading bay as the distant rumble of thunder grew closer. Yeah, this was definitely gonna be a close one.

The Germans stood clustered in the bay, some supporting their more injured fellows as the survivors of Krausberg had done. Sure, they were Nazis, but they were also human beings. Maybe one day, they would remember that.

"Come on, this way," said Steve. He grabbed one of the most exhausted-lookin' Germans and pulled the guy's arm around his neck so he could carry him out. "There's a bunch of HYDRA soldiers right behind us. We need to go."

They didn't need telling twice. They jogged as fast as they could, many limping, others half-dragging their friends, while Steve shouted over his shoulder that they were nearly there, almost out, just a little further, and other encouraging platitudes to keep them moving. The thunder was loud enough now that even the Germans could hear it, and they looked around wide-eyed as if expecting an allied army to come marching right into the valley. It wasn't just the sound of the plane engines that filled the air; it was gunfire, from multiple weapons. Hopefully the Commandos could handle whatever was goin' on up there.

At a crossroads of narrow trails, some hundred and fifty metres outside the compound gate, Steve stopped. Time to make a choice.

"We should be safe for a moment," he told the German officer who'd addressed him in the cell. "You have two options. You can either come back with me and surrender to my team. You'll be taken as prisoners of war and treated accordingly. Or you can take that path," he said, pointing to one that led upwards in the opposite direction to the dam, "and strike out on your own. I don't know what forces are out there, or whether there are any settlements nearby. Some of your men are in poor condition; they may not make it. The choice is yours, but make it fast. That dam could go at any minute."

He gave them a moment to confer. He and the rest of the Commandos had learnt a few words of German, but nowhere near enough to understand the conversation rapidly flying back and forth. After a moment of talk that felt more like an hour, the officer turned back to Steve.

"We agree that we cannot surrender. We must do all that we can to return to our units, and will take care of our men along the way. We are eager to see our families again." He frowned, blue eyes darting in the direction of the dam. "Also, we must ensure our superiors hear of this. That word of what Schmidt is doing here reaches those in a position to do something about it."

Steve offered a quick nod. "I understand. You should hurry; this whole place will be underwater in just a few minutes' time."

"Ja." He called an instruction in German, and the soldiers started to file up the path. "I wish to thank you. If you hadn't freed us, my men would've died in those cells, either worked to death by HYDRA, or drowned in the flood you will make. A lesser man would've left us to die and been glad to do so. Will you tell me your name, so that I can be sure my children know the name of the man who saved their father's life?"

Steve stood a little straighter. "Captain Steve Rogers. And if you should have the misfortune of seeing Schmidt in person in the future, you can tell him that I'm going to stop him, whatever it takes."

A wry smile tugged at the officer's lips and he gestured to the factory in the shadow of the dam. "I think he will get the message. Auf wiedersehen, Captain Rogers. It is my hope that our paths do not cross again."

Steve waited until the man's back was out of sight, then sprinted back towards the main path outta the valley. The books in his belt pouch weighed heavier than they oughta. Perhaps the intel he'd gained would be enough to stave off a court-martial.

: - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - :

The crimson red of blood wiped easily off his blade. Bucky surveyed his team's handiwork as Dugan signalled the rest of the men to cross over. The HYDRA soldiers had been so focused on the forces across the dam that they hadn't realised they'd been infiltrated from the water until half of them were already dead. The element of surprise had won the day; no casualties taken. So far, so good.

While everyone except Hodge and Mex joined them, he looked down at the dam and the damage done by the mines. It was easier to see from this side. The wall was cracked and water was leaking through, a spray under immense pressure, but the dam wall was holding. This was a problem. It could go at any moment—or it could stay this way for months. Without more planes and mines, how could they release the flood that was needed to destroy the factory? He posed the question to the smartest man in Italy.

"It's a doozy," Howard Stark admitted. "But we need to prioritise. Right now that means continuing with the plan; we have to get whatever intel we can from the control room, then blow the power generators. After that… well, one problem at a time, Sergeant Barnes." His brown eyes danced over Bucky's body in a way that felt highly inappropriate. "How are you feeling after your near-freezing swim? Any loss of sensation in your limbs? Frost bite? Dizziness or shortness of breath?"

"I'm fine." The whole team were fine, thankfully. The trick now was to keep moving. Keep the blood pumping, the muscles warming, and give their clothing chance to dry. They were already reclaiming their weapons from the guys who'd carried them over; freezing cold and still raring to go. "Gusty, you and the rest of the 107th are with me. Freddie, Stark, stay behind us. Biggs, cover our six. We get to the control room, we get whatever intel we can, and we get out. Steve's gonna need our help when he returns with the men he rescued, and we still have to do something about this dam, so let's not drag our feet once we're inside."

"Meanwhile, we'll set the demolition charges," said Falsworth. "Everybody be careful in case there are more troops in the building, and watch out for any coming up from the factory below to see what all that noise was about. The last thing we want is to be caught with our pants down."

"I don't suppose there's any chance of me getting a sidearm?" asked Stark. "I'd feel a lot safer if I had something to defend myself with."

"No," said Bucky, at the exact same time as Monty.

"You soldier-types are so controlling."

The two groups split up. Bucky led his team towards the control room door, while the rest of the Commandos set off to the find the generators set into the side of the dam. With a little luck, the rest of the mission would be smooth sailing. He had to get back home before Lizzie spoilt Blue rotten.

The door to the facility was open, and as Bucky inched his way around it he heard the ragged inhale of someone trying to breathe quietly and not doing a very good job. He gave a hand-signal to Gusty, one that meant cover me as I advance, then stepped forward as quietly as he could. When he reached the corner he rounded it gun first, and caught a brief flash of white as a door up ahead was slammed shut before he could even think about pulling the trigger.

"Looks like this place isn't entirely deserted," he called over his shoulder. "We got at least one engineer."

"Y'know, this kinda reminds me of that time when you and Wells tried to take one of those HYDRA bunkers using knives."

"I told you, I'm not playing this game."

"And that one guy was holed up on his own with the comms equipment," Gusty continued. "I remember standing outside that corridor listening to the two of you argue about who was going to shoot the guy. Neither of you wanted to do it, but neither of you wanted the other to have to do it."

He remembered. Like it was yesterday. The horror in the pit of his stomach as he slashed the throat of a man who slept soundly in his bunk. The stupid argument with Wells after Bucky had forgotten to knock the safety off his pistol and failed to shoot the HYDRA soldier before he had chance to surrender. It had seemed so important at the time. Weight of the world kinda stuff. And here it came; that empty feeling inside. The dark hole inside him that he couldn't let himself dwell on in case it consumed him.

"You gotta point?" he asked, pushing the emptiness aside.

Gusty shrugged. "Just that if this guy surrenders, I am perfectly okay with shootin' him. Just like last time."

The time when he and Wells had been so deep in that stupid argument that they hadn't seen Gusty arrive and take aim. Gusty had always been happier than most to shoot Krauts. Especially since Tipper.

"Fine, if you want to shoot him, you can shoot him," he said. "He'll probably have swallowed his cyanide pill by the time we get in there anyway." He reached out to rattle the door handle. Locked. But not unexpected. "Stark?"

"On it," said Howard. He shrugged off his backpack and pulled out an item Bucky hadn't seen in months; the universal key. That thing had opened a lot of HYDRA doors, back in France. Very possibly it had opened a lot of hotel room doors for Stark. Probably best not to dwell on that.

Click.

The lock disengaged and Stark stepped aside. Bucky nodded to Gusty, and together they stepped through the door.

The dam's control room was all metal panels and blinking lights. The back wall was an enormous window which gave a full view of the valley; an impressive sight. It took Bucky's attention for a moment, so at first he didn't clock the white-coated man standing beside one of the consoles. When he did, he realised the guy's finger was pressed down on a big red button. A maniacal grin twisted his lips.

"Hail HYDRA," he said.

Bucky didn't think; he reacted. Grabbed Gusty by his collar, pulling him back so hard that he crashed into Stark and the two of them went sprawling in the corridor. Letting his shoulder strap take the full weight of his rifle, he grabbed the door with both hands to yank it back just as the scientist lifted his finger up.

The console exploded, followed by the others in turn. A searing fireball engulfed the room, shattering the window, a blast of pressure racing out, buffeting the door and escaping through the gap. Bucky was blown backwards, and just where he'd been stood, a fan of bright flames licked the air.

He pushed himself to his feet but didn't dare touch the door. Even from a couple of feet away, he could feel the heat on the other side of it. So much for intel. Instead, he turned to his men, and asked, "Everyone okay?"

Gusty and Stark were a little bruised from their collision, and Bucky was a bit singed around the uniform, but everyone else was fine. It had been a close call.

"A dead man's switch," said Stark. "I should've expected something like this."

"If you hadn't closed that door, we'd probably all be dead," said Gusty. "That was quick thinkin', Sarge."

"Let's just hope that was the only surprise HYDRA has planned. Sorry Freddie, but it looks like you're not gonna get chance to use that camera after all. Whatever intel we could'a got is well and truly gone."

"Not to worry, Sergeant Barnes." Freddie patted his camera fondly. "There's always next time. At least this place is out of operation for good."

"I wish we could've got something," said Stark. "Anything. This 'Operation Valkyrie' troubles me."

"Doesn't anything you don't know trouble you?" Gusty asked him.

"Yeah, but when it comes to HYDRA, I'm doubly troubled."

"We can't do any more here," said Bucky. "Let's head to Monty's position and see how the Commandos are doing with those charges."

In fact, they made it to the generator facility just as Falsworth and the rest of the team were filing out. After hearing of their escapades in the control room, Monty delivered his own sitrep.

"They left a few guards behind; nothing we couldn't handle. There were, however, considerably more turbines than we had been expecting. It seems HYDRA had upgraded the facility before moving in. Jacques has located the ones we believe are the main turbines, and rigged them all to a single remote detonator."

Dernier held the control out to Bucky, who merely shook his head.

"I wouldn't dream of denying you that pleasure, Jacques. I know how much you loving blowing up Nazi toys. Why don't you do the honours?"

With one of his usual crazy grins, he held up the detonator and said, "Trois, deux, un, et voilà!" When he pushed the button, the ground shook briefly, and a muted rumble attested that the bombs had worked. Unlike at the control room, there was no huge fireball, no shattered glass, no pressure blast. The turbines were too far underground for the explosion to reach the surface.

"Well, this feels rather anticlimactic," said Monty. He actually looked disappointed about the lack of explosion. He was just as crazy as Dernier. "We should probably head back to the other side before the dam crumples and strands us over here."

Gusty groaned loudly. "Aww, why'd you have to go and jinx us like that?"

Monty's eyebrows rose in surprise. "What? I'm sure the dam will still be standing, and we'll make it back with no problems."

"Baaarnes, tell him to stop talking!"

"He's right, Monty," said Bucky. "That sorta talk will doom us all."

"You Americans are far too superstitious."

"I hate to agree with Major Optimism here," said Stark, "but we really shouldn't dally. No telling when that dam will go. Besides, Rogers will probably need our help. Even he can't carry fifty men single-handed."

The dam was still standing. Not only standing, but still spraying water from its single crack. Judging by Hawkswell's reports of what happened the last time its integrity was breached—not to mention all of Stark's talk of Italian engineering—Bucky had been expecting it to crack like an egg. Clearly, some higher power was at work here. Probably the same higher power that made all of their missions go sideways. A higher power who delighted in causing unexpected mischief.

When they reached the walkway over the dam, they spotted a single figure waving to them on the other side. Steve must've double-timed it to make it back up here before them. The sight of him standing there, unharmed brought with it a wave of dizzying relief. Steve was safe. This mission wouldn't end with him losing a friend.

"Where are all the prisoners?" Dugan asked, once they'd reached Steve. Hodge and Mex had joined him, ready to move out as soon as the mission was completed.

"Ah. Well. Bit of a funny story." Steve brushed his hand through his hair like he always did when he got in trouble with his mom back when he was a kid. To this day, it was one of his strongest poker tells. "Y'see, Schmidt wasn't using captured Allied prisoners as a workforce. He was using German soldiers."

"Ahh," said Mex. "So you left them in their cells so the flood would get them?"

"No. I let them out and gave them a chance to make a run for it."

It was like someone flipped a switch inside Gusty's head. He went from pale and shivery to beetroot-red in the blink of an eye. "You did what?"

"I couldn't just leave men to drown, even if they are our enemy."

"Don't you understand that this is war? We're not sitting safe in London, waiting for our next stroll through Europe. This is the front line. We face death every single day. Every breath we take could be our last. And behind every fired bullet, behind every laid mine, is one of these bastards. And you just let them go? Every American soldier that they force us to bury out here is on you. The families who don't have a son or a brother or a father come back, that's your fault."

"Hey, back off, Gusty," said Dugan. "Cap did what he thought was right, even if you don't agree with it. Can't say I'd feel comfortable with leaving anyone in a HYDRA work cell, not after what I went through in Krausberg."

"This is pointless!" Bucky strode between them, silently willing Gusty to put a sock in it. He had to change the course of the conversation. Couldn't let it go to Krausberg. He could never go back to that table. "What's done is done. And maybe it'll work out for the best. Yeah, the Nazis are our enemies, but so are HYDRA. I'm not saying the enemy of our enemy is our friend or anythin', but it's better for us if our enemies are divided, and word of Schmidt enslaving other Germans has gotta be good for us. Right now, we've got bigger problems. That dam was supposed to be destroyed, and it isn't. Yeah, we handled the turbines, but the brass want that factory and whatever it's making under water, and we're fresh out of Dambusters."

"Corporal Hodge filled me in on what happened with the planes," said Steve. Gusty looked like he had a hell of a lot more to say, but he wisely kept quiet. "There's intel down in that factory. I grabbed a couple of books on my way out, but there's a whole lot more. Since the dam hasn't burst yet, I could go back and grab as much as I can."

"I wouldn't recommend it," said Stark. "Sure, the dam hasn't burst yet, but it could go at any minute. Better not to tempt fate. It's a shame I didn't have chance to bring more of my equipment with me; I've been designing a grenade launcher that could hurl a grenade at that crack easy as pie. One good shot would be all it needs."

Biggs stepped up and slowly rumbled to life. "It's a shame we're so far away, Sarge. I reckon if we were closer, you could hit that no problem. You're one of the best darts players I've ever seen."

Bucky nodded as he eyed up the crack in the dam wall. Biggs was right. If they were closer, he could probably hit it dead centre with a grenade; it wouldn't be too different to baseball, and he'd always been a good pitcher. But the distance was just too great; any grenade he threw would fall well short. To make that shot, he'd need some kinda super-human strength.

Now, there was a thought…

"I bet Steve could make it."

Steve's eyes almost popped out of his head. "C'mon Buck, you've played enough baseball with me to know what a lousy shot I am."

"But that's before you got enhanced… well… everything. And that includes your hand-eye coordination, right? I mean, I've seen the way you throw that shield." At times it seemed it had a will of its own.

"He has a point, Captain," said Monty. He searched the ground for a moment then picked up a small, round-ish rock. "Here, give this a try. If you can get near the crack in the dam with this, then a grenade should be no problem."

"Hah! Five bucks says he can't put that stone anywhere near it," Hodge scoffed. "It's way too far, even for pipsqueak here."

"That's Captain Pipsqueak, to you," said Morita.

"Still, it's an impossible shot."

"I'll take that bet," said Dugan.

Bucky met Steve's gaze, and offered a firm nod of encouragement. "Me too."

"Great. No pressure, then!" Steve said. But he hefted the rock, gave it a good wind up, and threw it as hard as he could. Several pairs of binoculars came up just in time to see the rock ping off the dam wall right next to the crack.

"That, my friend, is definitely in the ballpark." Stark clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder, then winced as it stung his palm. "Hodge owes us all some money."

A scowl pulled Hodge's eyebrows down. "Hey wait, you didn't even take the bet! Besides, you've got more than enough money of your own without taking mine too."

"It's a matter of principle. Now, who has a grenade for Rogers?"

A half-dozen grenades were thrust at Steve, who accepted one with feigned gravitas. "At least I'll have plenty of opportunities to try again if I miss with this first one." That was his humble side. He wouldn't miss. Everybody knew it. He'd already made the shot once, and he had more than enough strength to cover the distance. In fact, the only thing that was hit-and-miss with Steve these days was his luck with Carter. He was still learnin' how to avoid putting his oversized foot in his mouth.

When he pulled the pin and gave the grenade a quick wind-up, Bucky didn't even bother saying a prayer that it would find its target. He could tell, even from the early trajectory, that the weapon would hit. And hit it did, in spectacular fashion, right in the centre of the crack. The boom was small, but the sudden eruption of water was not. It shot out in all directions, a force of nature unleashed. Cold mountain water sprayed the entire team, drenching them head to toe even as they tried to retreat to avoid the worst of it. Gasps of alarm from those who'd been dry up to this point echoed around the valley as the crack raced down the dam wall and released the lake held back.

Thank God they had high ground; Bucky had always thought war was the most terrifying thing a guy could experience, but seeing all that water—the stuff he drank every day, and every living creature relied on for survival—come crashing down the valley, ripping the HYDRA factory from its very foundations, tearing up trees and carrying them along as if they were matchsticks… well, he'd been wrong about war. Nature was far more terrifying.

Howard Stark stepped forward to survey the damage. His civilian clothing was wet through, his black hair plastered to his head. Even his moustache appeared to be drowning. "And that, my friends, is what I call a successful mission. Congratulations, Rogers, you've just made the history books. You're now a human Dambuster."