He leaves the girl alone.

“I don’t know,” Graeber steps away from the girl. “I don’t know.”

He gets off the bed and steps away from the girl. “Stay here. Hide.”

Before Sofia can even move, Graeber closes the door and runs down the stairs to bolt from the building, running in the direction where the others should have been. On the path, he runs into Jäger, who looks around, panicked.

He tackles Graeber to the ground and readies his rifle. “Was?! Was?! Was passiert?!”

Graeber realizes Jäger is suspecting an attack, but he stands up quickly and helps Jäger to his feet. “Es ist nichts.”

They regard each other, and both men look slightly wild, but as the tension ease, Graeber sighs. “Es ist nichts.”

…Soon, they are back on the road toward the SS. Dieter is in the driver's seat, and the Russian landscape is all that belongs to their vision. The endless Russian landscape…

The weather warms as the sun breaks the clouds. Finally, the sky becomes clear, and Graeber begins to worry. He looks at the young driver and nudges him. “Watch out for planes. I don’t think we have much air support out here.”

Dieter glances up. “OK.”

Four trucks arrive at the SS Unit and meet in the center of another nameless, blown-out town. The road is at least paved, but there are so many craters and roadblocks that maneuvering is worse here than the roads they were used to.

Graeber surrenders his MP43 and rearms himself with the K98k rifle. After hauling the supplies to a supply dump, he sits at a staircase to catch his breath. There’s vague **** everywhere and spent brass in corners that accompany the signs of war-gore and a dozen unfortunate events.

He’s surprised to see not just SS here but also Heer infantry. He blinks and looks around. There are tank operators still in their black uniforms in some places acting like sentries.

Dieter spots Graeber and rushes over like an awkward schoolboy on his first day of classes. “Herr Graeber!” He salutes him, and Graeber shoots up, slapping his hand and grabbing his collars.

“Are you trying to get me shot, you fool?! Don’t ever salute me or anyone else in the open ever again! You goddamn baby!”

Dieter’s eyes swell with panic. “Es tut mir leid!”

“Verdammt,” Graeber curses. “Every time you salute someone out here, you’re marking them as targets. Always assume you’re being watched. Always assume there’s a sniper. Always assume—“

Dieter watches Graeber.

“Always assume you’re in danger,” he trails off and sits back down. Dieter stands for a moment and then sits down next to him. Graeber leans into the step behind and cranes his neck, admiring the town's state that has no structure anymore. This whole place looks like a small segment of Stalingrad. “Fuck.”

There's an acute increase In anxiety in Graeber. He isn’t sure if it’s because he’s reminded of his last horror or than something else nearby that’s cutting in closer, but since there isn’t anything requiring his immediate attention, he tries to rest. However, he knows that if he remains idle for too long, someone will **** a task upon him, especially with Dieter is doing the same thing with him.