"Go home, little German boy."

Graeber feels the burn and embarrassment in his stomach when Katarzyna says this. His pride is offended, and there’s a sudden feeling to shout at her. Is this what his kindness has brought him? However, he swallows the last moment and nods instead. “Guten Nacht, Frau Garnier.”

A shameful smile spreads on her lips, almost making her rejection bearable. “Thank you…Herr Graeber.”

“It’s Danke schön, by the way.” Graeber corrects.

“What?”

“You said ‘donkey shown’ earlier, but it’s 'Danke schön.'”

“Oh,” Katarzyna can’t help but smile wider. “Sorry.”

“Es ist süße,“ he says.

No more words are exchanged, and he feels at ease again. He walks back to where he belongs.

Tonight, Graeber will spend the night sleeping, awaiting the subsequent victory, surely to come to his feet with the Heer and the new modern war machine…

…

…

June 1942 to the Ostfront.

More rain... Graeber thought. More rain…

The wet morning presented Graeber with a bleakness he now often felt. He was heading towards the east again, returning from not just Denmark but also a furlough. Piss ran out his cock and into the soil beneath him as he yawned. He was yearning to return home to Germany. After his last leave, he wanted nothing more than for this stupid war to be over, but after Russia would come Africa. At least another year of combat was still in store.

Instead, here he was, in a village that probably wasn’t even on a map. He glanced behind him, spotting the armored column taking a break as the infantry lounge around, eating and making conversation with the inhabitants. He kicked a can aside and found Lukas with his helmet’s lip pulled slightly over his forehead.

Lukas peered up at him. His blue eyes were duller these days, but after the winter, everything was duller. Lukas smiled nonetheless. “Graeber!”

“Hallo,” Graeber says.

“Come to relax on this fine Polish day?”

“Came to talk,” he sits beside Lukas and picks out his bayonet. “A big operation has to be coming up, right? Look at all of this.”

Lukas looks back at the chassis of a tank. Its short barrel and gray body matched those in cloth uniform– a super soldier with tracks instead of legs. The hatch was open, and the driver was peering outside, drinking coffee as he spoke to someone on the other side of his armored shell.

“The Fühur knows the Russians need one more punch to get them off their high horse!” Lukas smiled, showing his fist, and then yawned, disinterested with the subject already. He had a wife and a child on the way, he was sure of himself anyway once this was all over. “We just need oil to accomplish it.”

Graeber smirked. “So you know where we’re going then?”

Lukas smirked too. “Southern Russia. We missed Barbarossa, but we’ll make it to Case B—“ he looked around and relaxed back down.

“Make it to what?” Graeber licked his lips.

“This is tip-top stuff,” Lukas says. “We can’t talk openly about it. Dangerous stuff! Hey, listen… why don’t you look around? Poland isn’t exactly the safest of places these days, but you’re still in the new Europe… take a look around. We’ll probably wait about 30 minutes before moving on.”

Graeber looked around. There were a few shops and stands around, but the rainy weather put him in a mood he wasn’t exactly enjoying. He shouldered his Mauser’s sling and marched towards the first place that looked interesting.