Important Note: Liqdra was kind enough to point out that I messed up a historic detail in Chapter 33. I said the Iron Cross was worn on the neck. Instead, the Iron Cross 2nd Class is worn only on the ceremony day, then as a ribbon sewed to the tunic button; and the Iron Cross 1st Class is pinned to the breast pocket. I will go back through the story when I have time and fix this mistake. However, I reall, REALLY love the mental image of Eren with that iconic black and silver cross on the neck. (Plus there's fanart of it!) That medal is the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross.
So, thanks to Liqdra, Eren is about to get a new medal!
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Levi woke up slowly, not jolting out of nightmares this time, but a hazy rising out of foggy fantasies, only to glance across satin pillows to see those fantasies were there in bed with him.
He reached over and softly touched Eren's hair, not enough to wake him, just needing to feel him first thing in the morning.
Their night had been long and adventurous. After a dinner eating in their room, Levi had urged Eren to show him some more, to touch himself and explore in ways the young man had never before felt safe doing. He could tell Eren was not practiced in this and saw when he discovered new sensations.
To think, he was getting to witness Eren learning about his own body!
But that was just half of it! Eren was determined to wear Levi out. After their argument, Levi had cheekily told Duran that he was going to get the best blowjob of his life. Eren sure did his best to make that come true, until Levi teased that he wanted to get drunk on semen.
Maybe they were both a little drunk on sex. They had spent most of the night as wildly infatuated as newlyweds, trying to wear each other out, and both proved to have quite the stamina.
Levi could feel it now, though. He ached!
And yet he still hungered.
He felt like he could never get tired of watching this man squirming across the bed and listening to his throaty cries.
He was addicted, and best of all, he knew there was so much more they had not yet explored.
Levi slowly rolled aside and sat up. He stretched out a crick in his shoulder and stifled a groan.
Out of practice, old man, he teased himself.
When Levi put his feet down, they landed on a pile of clothes on the floor. He looked down and saw the field-gray uniform. Levi shook his head and stepped over it for now.
The movements woke Eren up. "You okay?" he mumbled sleepily.
"You forgot to hang up your uniform."
"I will."
"It'll be wrinkled."
"Ich werde es ... bügeln. Später..." I'll iron it. Later. Eren's eyes sank heavily as he dozed off.
Levi went to the bathroom and washed up. He glanced in the mirror, turned his head to the side, and saw a bright hickey on his neck. The sight made him smile. He realized there were other marks all over his body from where Eren had gotten a bit rough.
He stepped out and saw Eren sprawled out on the bed, tangled in satin sheets. He saw that the lean German had similar marks on him, red circles on his throat and collar, a faded pink scratch mark on his chest, and a bruise on his inner thigh that Levi had given him in a little rough play.
How he would love to mark him up even more!
Levi picked up the uniform trousers, and the leather belt flopped. He looked at the belt, then over at Eren. He was slowly waking up, stretching his bandaged arms above his head, naked and so vulnerable. A sly smile crept onto Levi's lips.
Slowly, he pulled the belt off and draped the trousers over a chair. He crawled onto the spacious bed with the belt in his hands.
Eren glanced over, smiled at seeing such a sexy glint in Levi's eyes, but the belt confused him. "What is that for?"
Levi straddled on top of Eren's torso. He looked down imperiously, and Eren saw a fire in his gaze.
Softly, Levi whispered, "Do you trust me?"
"Of course."
"Do you really trust me?" he asked more seriously.
Eren's brow tightened. "With my life!"
Levi nodded. He took Eren's arms, being careful of the bandages wrapped around his burns, and raised them. Eren obediently lifted his arms, and he felt Levi grasp his wrists. His heart began to race, curious what Levi had planned. He watched as Levi took the belt and tightened it around his wrists. Eren gasped as the leather bit into his flesh.
"Too tight?" asked Levi.
Eren shook his head.
"Does anything hurt?"
"No. What are you doing?"
"Something I used to like to do, but I couldn't with most women. Only a prostitute in Amsterdam would let me."
Eren frowned. "Prostitute?"
"It was for a mission."
He wrapped the belt through the headboard, trapping Eren's hands above his head. Then he pulled back and gazed upon him.
"Now, you really are all mine." He leaned down, nose to nose, and whispered, "Maybe I should capture you, my own personal Prisoner-Of-War."
Eren's whole body shivered. If he had to surrender to the Allies, he would rather be taken into custody by this man.
Levi kissed down Eren's throat, down along his collar, to his chest, peppering kisses down to his nipples. Eren mewled and pulled, but the belt held his wrists trapped.
Helpless! Captured!
"Gott!" he gasped, feeling aroused by just the idea.
Levi snorted a smug laugh. "I had a feeling you'd like this. You like to be teased. Now you're trapped, my prisoner, forced to accept all the pleasure I decide to give you."
Levi reached down, brushing his fingers across Eren's cock. His back arched at the touch, and the belt pulled on his wrists.
"Don't pull too hard. You'll leave bruises."
Eren whimpered, squirmed, but he was trapped. A part of him realized that all these touches and kisses were things Levi wanted to do. He wasn't being forced. He couldn't be, not like this. He was the captured one now.
Eren wondered: did Levi want to do this to reassure himself of his own freedom? After the brutal forcefulness he suffered, maybe this was empowering.
If it was a way to reassure himself and heal, Eren was more than happy to be the helpless one this time.
Levi teased his nipples so relentlessly, they began to feel sore. Then he lowered down Eren's torso, kissing and stroking his hands all across the sculpted muscles. His kisses went lower, tickling his belly button, sending jolts through him as he got lower, and lower, and lower.
Eren looked down. He could not lift much, but it was enough to see Levi down between his legs.
Levi glanced up. "May I touch you?"
Asking permission? Eren wondered why he would bother after last night. Maybe, since he knew the humiliation of being captured, Levi was reassuring himself that he wasn't like that man. He would always ask for consent. They both would!
"You may," Eren whispered, trembling in anticipation.
Levi wrapped his fingers around the arousal, and all of Eren's tension felt ready to rupture. The moan was so loud, he wondered if this might test the soundproof qualities of the room. His hips thrust up into Levi's hand.
He needed him!
So much!
"Levi!"
Levi watched his captive enemy soldier boy. Oh, how he loved the fantasy of taking Eren as his prisoner and keeping him locked away! It was an erotic dream he had many times.
Now, as he watched Eren straining against the belt and trembling at his touch, that fantasy was becoming real.
He glanced down at the cock in his hand. When he did this in the past, it was with women, and usually it was silk scarves he used to bind them. As he had told Eren, it was for a mission, infiltrating a high-class brothel to get close to a target ... but there was that one lady with her kinky ideas...
In his youth, Levi did not really use prostitutes. Others sometimes hired them for him, but the women always reminded him of his mother, so it was hard to truly enjoy it. That Amsterdam prostitute was different. She taught him things. She showed him a world of alternative titillation, as she called it, that he thought he would never experience again. When he dared to even hint at it to Petra, she had looked horrified and flatly refused to play along.
Eren, though...
He had a feeling about Eren's predilections for a while. This confirmed his suspicions.
He stroked more, but the cock was dry. He could climb up to the drawer beside the bed and get lube, but...
Well, there was another way.
He leaned over, staring at the penis up close, foreskin and all. He hesitated, then cautiously leaned in and gave it a lick.
Eren had been watching, sensing Levi was planning to do something, so when he saw that tongue reach out and wetness gliding up him, he gasped in shock.
Was Levi finally going to suck him?
Levi licked again, then rubbed. It was a little better, but it could be more slick. He looked down at the cock in his hand, thick, hard, and turning purple. He leaned in, gave the tip a kiss, and hesitated again. He glanced up to see Eren watching him with anticipation.
Slowly, Levi's lips parted.
Eren could feel the heat of Levi's breath coming from his opened mouth. He whimpered and bit his lip, trying to hold still while his whole body wanted to squirm.
Just as Levi felt the tip of the penis touching his lips, there was a firm knock on the brothel room door. He yanked up in sudden terror.
"Merde!"
Then they heard Carly's voice. "C'est moi. Ich bin's," she said in both French and German to reassure them.
Levi scrambled up to the headboard and quickly untied the belt from Eren's wrists. Their eyes lingered, a moment of realization that even here, nothing was completely safe. Then Levi opened the drawer, flipped the switch to the secret passage, and hid inside the wall.
Eren tried to calm himself, but his dick was hard, his heart raced, and his whole body tingled. The knock on the door was louder this time, and Carly's voice spoke firmer.
"Herr Oberleutnant? Forgive me. I normally don't interrupt clients, but there's a call for you. Apparently, it's urgent. He demanded you speak with him."
Defiantly, Eren strode to the door and threw it open, naked and disheveled with a raging erection. Carly glanced him up and down and smiled at his erotic look.
"I interrupted something good," she snickered. "Perhaps I can join—"
"Fuck off, you whore!" he growled. "Tell them I need five minutes."
"You can use the telephone in my office." She smiled coyly again. "No need to get fully dressed."
He slammed the door shut on her. "Verdammt!" He ran his hand through his messy hair, but then he looked down at his wrists. They were slightly pink from the belt. He would need to hide that.
He walked up to the wall. "Levi?"
The molding shifted and the door opened. "Is something wrong?"
"An urgent telephone call. I need to take it. It may be about Armin."
He glanced down and saw Eren's body starting to calm and go limp. Softly, Levi said, "Go do your job, come back here tonight."
Eren grinned that Levi wanted more. "Maybe we can pick up where we left off." He leaned into Levi's ear. "I'll let you tie me up anytime."
Levi smirked, and suddenly he grabbed both of Eren's wrists. He pressed them together, bound by his fingers now. Eren caught his breath, feeling the excitement all over again. Levi gazed at the pink lines on Eren's skin from the belt. He brought the captured wrists up and gave a kiss to each one, right over the mark left on his skin.
"Maybe Carly has silk scarves," he whispered. "That's what I'm used to."
Eren's face turned red as he imagined it: tied up with something so dainty, at Levi's mercy, and he could take all the pleasure he wanted.
Levi released his wrists. "You should go."
Eren looked reluctant and whined, "I don't want to."
Levi cupped the back of Eren's neck and brought him down to give him a kiss. "You're such a greedy little takhshet." Then he released him. "I have something I should probably do anyway. Come back tonight. Don't keep me waiting too long."
Eren nodded, and he turned to hurriedly get dressed. Behind him, Levi was also pulling on his clothes. Eren found his long underwear, uniform trousers, undershirt, tunic, socks, boots, and cap. Some of it was wrinkled, but it would have to do. By the time he pulled on all of it, he turned to speak with Levi, but he was gone.
Had he slipped through the secret passage while Eren wasn't looking?
He realized Levi left the Tanakh on the nightstand. He took it, opened the nightstand drawer with the pornography photos that hid the secret switch, shoved the book way into the back, and covered it with nude photos. Then he closed the drawer, straightened his officer's cap, and stepped out.
Eren marched swiftly through the hallway. He went down the stairs and headed to Carly's office. The brothel madam was already there with paperwork stacked on her desk. She motioned to the telephone on her desk with the receiver off and waiting. Eren picked up the phone.
"Hallo, hier spricht Oberleutnant Eren Jäger."
He recognized the voice: Hauptmann Kitz Woermann. He snapped at Eren for taking so long and for being in the brothel at that hour. How are you expected to lead anyone if you lead with your dick?
He sounded more angry than usual. Then again, at the cathedral, Colt Grice had told Eren that the Gestapo already investigated Kitz Woermann and found he had indeed given himself a wound and faked just how bad it was. He would be punished by being sent to the front lines, not even to the safety of the forts.
After one close call with an artillery shell, the captain had been so scared he wounded himself just to escape the battle; now, he was being sent right into the line of fire. No wonder he was screaming over the phone.
Finally, Kitz seemed to get all of his rage out and curtly told Eren to bring the remaining company to the Metz Opera house. When Eren asked why that location, Kitz screamed something he could not make out and hung up.
Eren pressed down the receiver, released it, and told the operator to connect him to Nordpol Barracks. It took the person who answered the telephone a while to find Jarnach.
During that time, Carly offered Eren a cigarette. He gladly accepted it, and she lit it up for him. He figured a nice bonus about the brothel was that Carly always had the best cigarettes.
When Jarnach finally answered the phone, Eren ordered his new NCO to find the rest of the company and send Floch to pick him up from the brothel. Then he hung up and puffed in frustration on his cigarette.
Carly watched as she smoked her own cigarette. "A man's libido interrupted can leave the man distracted, and a distracted man makes mistakes." She inhaled a breath and let out a dainty stream of smoke. "Don't make any mistakes, Eren Jäger."
He glared over at her. "Do you know what's going on?"
"I don't know everything about this city, but I do know how to survive. Act ignorant. Say as little as possible. Above all else, play by their rules. At least, until they're no longer watching."
Eren wondered, just how much did Carly really know?
"You should iron your uniform. The laundry is next to the kitchen. Other officers have needed to use it before."
He looked down at the rumpled uniform. She was right, if he had to go to a meeting, he needed to look his best.
He left the office and found the laundry filled with bed sheets. He grimaced, not wanting to think about what ended up on those sheets. He found a little iron and a board. He glanced around, but no one seemed like they even cared. Maybe she was right and officers did this as a routine.
He removed his trousers and set about ironing them. He also starched the tunic, getting the sleeves nice and crisp. After redressing, he went to the brothel's toilet to use a little water and smooth out his hair. Looking in the mirror to make sure his cap was on straight, he frowned at his reflection; he really could use a haircut. The brown hair was starting to get lanky.
He went to the kitchen, grabbing a pastry to eat as breakfast. Then he strode through the brothel, opting to stand outside to eat. A storm was moving in, and the rain was so icy it felt like it might change to sleet by evening.
He luckily did not need to wait long before Floch pulled up with the truck. Eren climbed in and found Jarnach, Connie, and a few others from the platoon who had recently been released from the hospital and cleared to return to service. He smiled to see them again.
They weren't many, but they were his men, and Eren was determined to shelter them from the coming storm.
(crossing Pont de Roches, Temple Neuf and Opéra-Théâtre de Metz ahead)
They drove toward the river and crossed the Pont de Roches bridge reflecting the rain-pocked gray Moselle. Eren glanced out at the steeples of Evangelische Stadtkirche Metz, that same church he and Levi had gazed upon as they stood on the bridge so many times before. He gazed to his left and could see that bridge now, as well as two people who had paused halfway to look at the island, same as they had done.
"Have you been to the Garden of Love?"
Eren jolted out of his thoughts and looked over to Connie. "What?"
"The Garden of Love. It's what they call the garden around that church over there."
They were already at the church, and Eren saw that the rosette window adorning the front even looked like it was made from a bunch of hearts with a Star of David in the middle.
Like his love for his little Jew.
"No, I haven't gone there," Eren muttered. Now he really wanted to take Levi here, but it was probably too dangerous. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've been on this island at all."
"Haven't you explored?" Connie cried out.
"Jean took me around early on. His aunt lives here."
"Oh, Jean! How is he doing? I miss that horse-face."
Eren huffed out a laugh. How was he supposed to tell them that Jean was head-over-heels for a Jewish Russian girl forced to work as a prostitute. "He's about the same," he said cautiously.
Jarnach said, "We may see him here."
Eren glanced over. "Will we?"
Jarnach shrugged. "If he decides to come."
They drove up to the Opéra-Théâtre de Metz, or Metz Opera, a stately, bring golden-yellow building built in the early 18th century with Rococo decorations, an entryway of golden stone arches, and a huge courtyard where, Eren imagined, French nobles would pull up their carriages for a night at the theater. Armin once told him, this square was also the site where nobles were guillotined during the French Revolution.
Now, there were many cars and military trucks, with officers mingling around the courtyard that once flowed with noble blood. Eren marched in through the stone arches, and his platoon followed after. They passed through dark wood doors and into a foyer, with more gold-stone arches to lead into the theater.
(Metz Opera entry, photos by Mark de Metz)
The foyer was crowded, Heer and SS alike milling about. As they entered, Connie gazed around at the posh architecture.
"Is this where officers have their meetings? If so, I should have tried to sneak in."
"No," answered Eren. "It's honestly a little strange that Hauptmann Woermann asked me to come here, and to bring all of you." He glanced around. "Also, why is it so crowded?"
"Maybe it's a movie about Hitler," Floch guessed.
Jarnach kept quiet, but he had a small smile on his lips.
Then Eren saw Armin in a wheelchair being pushed forward by a nurse. His head was still wrapped in bandages, but he had a beaming smile on his face.
"Armin!" Eren cried out. "You shouldn't be up."
"Of course I'd come for this."
"For what?"
Armin looked confused. "Weren't you told?"
Suddenly, Ian Dietrich was right by Eren's side. His piercing blue eyes and chiseled cheekbones held no emotion.
"Oberleutnant Jäger, heil Hitler. You haven't been back to the hotel in a few days," he said sharply.
"I've been busy," Eren replied warily.
"You got a telegram." Ian handed the paper over. "You should have seen it before coming here."
"Why?"
Ian only nodded down to the paper. Eren opened it, took a moment to read, and his mouth slowly dropped.
"This is a joke."
"I thought so too," Ian grumbled, looking deeply displeased. "What sort of people are you kissing up to?"
"No one! Why...?" He re-read the paper, shaking his head in disbelief.
"What is it?" asked Floch, trying to peek over Eren's shoulder.
He stared in numbness. "I'm ... I'm being awarded the Knight's Cross."
Connie and Floch shouted in excitement and shook Eren in celebration. Other soldiers glanced over at the noise.
Ian explained, "This is why Hauptmann Woermann asked that any survivors of the company be brought, especially the wounded."
"Right," said Armin. "It's not just me. All of the platoon, as well as Oberleutnant Ian Dietrich and Leutnant Gunther Schultz's old platoons, are here too."
He waved back toward the yellow stone walls, and now Eren saw them, wounded soldiers lined up against the wall, smiling at him.
"All of us who can be moved came to see this."
"You shouldn't be moved," Eren scolded, but then he smiled. "I'm glad you're here." He looked over to the wounded men. Some, he had rescued from the clutches of the Americans. He snapped his heels together and stabbed his arm straight out to salute them.
These were the true heroes!
They all returned the salute, and as one they yelled out, "Heil Hitler! Sieg heil!"
"Sieg heil!" Eren said back.
His arm dropped and he looked down at the paper again. The Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross! An award approved by Hitler himself! It was a medal he used to see as a goal when he was a young and fiercely loyal trainee in Napola. Now, he was about to receive this rare honor.
Eren covered his mouth. He wanted to be like the others and laugh in excitement, but he strongly felt the pressure to act like a proper officer, especially now.
He looked up to Ian. "When did this letter arrive?"
"Thursday or Friday, I'm not sure. When you didn't return, they gave it to me. I tried calling your platoon's barracks, but no one knew where you were."
Floch snickered and said, "He was at the brothel."
Eren defended himself, "I'm allowed at least a couple of nights to blow off steam." He dearly hoped no one asked too many questions about why he would stay overnight at the brothel, and for many days in a row.
Luckily, just then Jean ran up and pushed Eren's shoulder, nearly knocking him over. "Why didn't you tell me you were getting this, you bastard?"
Eren cringed as he rubbed out his shoulder. "You'd probably just mock me."
"Well, I sure as hell think they got the wrong Eren Jäger. It must belong to someone who is actually smart."
"You'd use an Iron Cross to itch your ass," Eren teased back.
The other officers from his hotel came through the opera house doors, and Holger was the first to run up to him.
"Jäger! Congratulations."
Surma walked up slower. "We heard from Dietrich."
Samuel shook his hand. "I bet your wife is so proud. Is she here?"
Daz's cut in and declared, "I feel braver just knowing there's a Ritterkreuzträger down the hall."
Eren's mouth dropped again. Ritterkreuzträger. Knight's Cross Holder. It was a level of honor he used to see as the true Übermenschen—supermen of Germany, heroes he aspired to be like. Hannes even used to give Eren their autograph cards to collect.
Jean clasped Eren's shoulder, and all teasing was put aside. "You must have done something really heroic to deserve this. The fact that you weren't bragging about it to all of us shows you never thought it was special at all. That, I think, is what really sets you apart from everyone else."
Eren was stunned and touched by Jean's words.
And then he added, "You're so stupid, you don't even know when you're a hero."
The platoon and officers all laughed.
Then Eren saw two more familiar faces, and his smile widened. "Reiner! Colt!"
The burly blond Untersturmführer and Gestapo Kriminalassistent both came up.
Jean told him, "I let them know, since you were keeping this a secret."
"I wasn't hiding it," Eren protested.
Reiner saluted him. "Oberleutnant Jäger, heil Hitler."
"Oh, stop that!" Eren laughed, coming up and giving Reiner a hug instead. "It feels weird when you address me by rank. You used to call me Moron Eren."
Reiner chuckled at the memories of their school days. "That was before you became a hero."
Jean chimed in, "Although you're still a moron."
Colt walked up. "I was thinking about somehow awarding you for helping us uncover what your captain was up to."
Connie jolted. "Wait, what's this about Woermann?"
Jarnach leaned over to him. "I'll tell you later."
"However," Colt went on, "I heard you were about to receive the Knight's Cross. There's not much greater award I can recommend, so I wanted to tell you myself, on behalf of the Gestapo, we appreciate your dedication to the Reich and all that you have done for Germany."
Eren smiled, feeling awkward. He had not turned in Woermann for the Reich, but because he was mad at the man for abandoning his troops in fear. Eren was the one who had to hold the entire company together near the end.
"I was wondering," Colt added, "could you come to my little brother's Hitler Youth group tomorrow? I would be very happy to have a Ritterkreuzträger to speak with them, keep their spirits up during this time."
Eren's eyes widened. "The children are still here? Didn't they get out?"
Colt shrugged. "Someone has to man the anti-aircraft guns."
Eren's shock and horror was instantly bashed away as the whole company gathered around to shake his hand. Even one soldier who had lost his hand at least used that bandaged stump to salute him.
"To think, we get to serve under a Ritterkreuzträger."
"We all knew Jäger was a hero."
"I need to write home about this. My father will be proud."
"No way, my father will ask when I'm going to get a Knight's Cross."
Jarnach came up to him. "You deserve this medal."
Eren looked over sharply. "This was you, wasn't it?"
"I may have told the right officers, who filled out the right forms," he admitted with a smirk. "If it wasn't for you, me and the rest of Jäger Platoon would be in a POW camp ... or worse. We lost some good men, but you saved us. You didn't have to come out there, dodging snipers, wielding a flamethrower..."
Floch gasped, "Wait, that part is true?"
Armin added, "I know you're haunted by all who died, but what you did was truly heroic, Eren."
Eren shook his head, wanting to cry and laugh and scream out in both joy and pain. "You guys..."
Ian cut in before Eren could get emotional. "The ceremony will begin soon. Stabsgefreiter Arlelt, there's a place for wheelchairs near the front."
"Thank you. I'll see you inside," Armin said to Eren, and the nurse pushed his wheelchair away.
"The rest of you, get to your seats."
"Jawohl, Oberleutnant Dietrich!"
Holger patted Eren's arm. "I'll see you later. It's a shame Greiz didn't live to see this."
Samuel added, "We should go out for drinks."
"And girls!" Daz shouted.
Colt came up now that the others moved away. "I'll call your hotel tomorrow morning to arrange a time for speaking at the Hitler Youth assembly." He saluted Eren and left.
While the others went into the theater auditorium, Jarnach stayed a step behind Eren as he and Ian walked through the crowded foyer.
"You know," Ian said, sounding both stiff but casual, "I don't think I've heard the whole story of what you did. A flamethrower?"
"It seemed like a good idea at the time." Eren rubbed his arm which was still wrapped in bandages. "It didn't end so well."
"Hauptmann Woermann was furious when he heard."
"I don't doubt it," Eren muttered. "If he had stayed on the battlefield, I wouldn't have needed to do all that."
"Speak of that..." Ian guided them through the crowd until Eren could see Kitz Woermann talking with a group of Heer and SS officers. He overheard some of the conversation.
"Maria is my second child. She's nineteen, more than old enough to start having children. I wrote to my old military friend Major Schweitzer—a true hero from the World War—and convinced him to get his son Hans to finally ask her hand in marriage. Hans is an officer in the SS and just reached the rank of Obersturmführer. He is sure to bring glory to the family's legacy, and Maria can finally start to give me grandchildren. Well, I do have some grandchildren, if you want to call them that. My eldest, Helga, ran off with some Polish boy while I was stationed in Kraków. I don't even speak of her, and I don't consider her children to be anything other than potential Jews. You never know with the Polish; Jews, all of them! Heinrich, though, is the ideal German: his hair is so blond it's almost white, and his eyes are as clear and blue as the sky itself. He will surely do his duty to Maria, and they can start to repopulate the Aryan race as soon as possible. I was planning to get permission to return for the wedding, but we'll have to see about that."
Ian scoffed in disgust. "He pressured his daughter into accepting some man's hand in marriage, all so he could leave Metz and go to the wedding. Yet another attempt of his to get out of the war."
Eren cautiously glanced over. "What do you mean?"
"Surely you noticed. Take a look. No cane."
Eren realized he was right, Kitz was no longer heavily leaning on a cane. Not only that, he seemed to be walking perfectly fine with no pain at all. Eren had guessed he would at least still limp a little, but it seemed that, now that he did not need to act injured, he was giving up the charade completely.
Ian dropped his voice. "Were you questioned by the Gestapo about Hauptmann Woermann's leg?"
Eren cautiously replied, "I spoke with Kriminalassistent Grice."
"What did you say?"
Eren shrugged. "I was in the room the day it happened, but I didn't see him get injured."
Ian frowned and whispered, "I did. The shell hit, smoke and bloody mist in the air, and I saw him looking like he was about to wet himself with fear. Then he grabbed a chunk of concrete and stabbed himself in the leg."
Eren jolted. "You saw him do that? Why didn't you say anything sooner?"
"To me, this was proof of his cowardice, and a coward should not be leading men. It's better for us all if he leaves the battlefield and hides away in a hospital. I trusted you to lead those men more than I trust him." He glanced proudly down at Eren. "It seems you went above and beyond even my expectations, Oberleutnant Jäger."
Eren was impressed. He thought Ian mildly hated him.
"In my opinion, Woermann should be stripped of his commission and forced to fight as a regular soldat." Ian's icy eyes narrowed at Eren. "You were the one who reported him, weren't you?"
Eren was again cautious. "Why would you say that?"
"You've always been great at lying but terrible at looking innocent."
Eren laughed softly. "I told you, I didn't see him injure himself."
"But you suspected it. Good. Something like that should be reported. I considered filing a report, but I had no proof beyond my own testimony. I felt that wasn't enough."
"You should have spoken with the hospital nurses," Eren said, and he smirked slyly. "They have interesting stories to tell."
Ian let out a small, brief laugh, reining it back in immediately. "I had my doubts about you, Jäger, but you're a good officer and a brave man. Fierce and loyal. I'm glad you're on our side, and while I admit I'm jealous, you deserve a Knight's Cross. So I'll give you a warning. Transfer your platoon away from Woermann's command. I've already requested it, even before all this. You know Woermann has been trying for months to find any excuse to have you killed. With you winning this award, and especially if he learns that you're the one who reported him, he may not even wait for an excuse."
Eren's brow tense in concern. Had all the officers in the company realized how much Kitz Woermann hated him? "I already requested it and was told it would be finalized today. With my platoon only having a handful of enlisted left, I'll probably be given some of the new recruits." Eren scowled and muttered, "I wonder if they're those little boys who were serving the officers at the hotel."
"I wish! Youths at least have strength and ambition. I already met my new platoon. I think the youngest was thirty and already missing two fingers, and the oldest has more gray hair than my father." Ian's brow tightened. "I always wanted High Command to give me a challenge, but not this. Those old men aren't soldiers; they're cannon fodder. This will look bad on my record."
Eren silently frowned. Bad on his record? He was talking about losing another twenty to thirty soldiers, and Ian was more worried about his military record.
"Well," said Ian, "it was an honor fighting with you, Eren Jäger." He snapped his heels together sharply and shot his hand out. "Heil Hitler!"
Such a cold farewell! Then again, he and Ian had never really been friendly together, not like how he and Gunther had been, or his friendship with Jean and his platoon.
"We'll see each other in the hotel," Eren reasoned.
Ian looked confused that Eren was not returning the salute. Eren realized that he was reluctant to do so, and that was dangerous. He instantly stiffened up and shot his hand out.
"Heil Hitler." There was bitterness in his mouth saying those words now. Hail victory? Of course! But hail the man who wanted Jews like Levi to be wiped off the face of the planet?
However, Ian looked satisfied. "Yes, I suppose we may see one another in passing. Then again, you never know with war. At any moment, it could be the last time you see someone."
Eren lowered his arm, and his face fell with that grim reality.
He was right. In war, you never knew when would be the last time you see someone. A bomb could strike. Any one of them could be sent out that very day, off to defend a fort.
Any moment could be the last time he and Levi were together.
A tall, decorated officer in his early thirties walked up to the two. "Oberleutnant Jäger, heil Hitler."
Seeing the man was a Major, Eren's brain snapped straight into attention and his arm shot out without hesitation this time. "Heil Hitler."
"I need to speak with you before the ceremony starts. Meet me on the terrace." Then he swiftly walked off.
Ian hummed in interest. "Sturmbannführer Matzdorff? If he's your new commanding officer, you're quite lucky."
"Who is he?"
"Major of the Schutzpolizei. He's in charge of Feste Württemberg and the nearby airfield. I hear he rules with an iron fist."
"Then I'm sure he'll be a good commander."
"Indeed," said Ian. "That's what we need to win this war: daring heroes like you, unflinching officers like him."
With a nod of his head in farewell, Eren left to follow the tall Major.
# # #
(fanart by Puppy_Brat, rainy French countryside)
The sky was growing dark, and the rain drummed like a machine gun on the roof of the car as Floch drove Eren through the wet streets of Metz.
"If the rain keeps up this bad, the river is going to flood again."
Eren kept quiet, staring ahead, his eyes devoid of emotions. Floch glanced in the rear view mirror at him.
"Are you sure you want to go to the brothel, sir? I know Daz was the one who recommended it and Jean already left, but I bet everyone else will be partying until midnight. You are the guest of honor."
Eren vaguely reached up, touching the Knight's Cross now tied by a red, white, and black ribbon around his neck.
"I've drank enough," he muttered.
Eren continued to keep his eyes locked ahead at the gray sheets of rain as the ceremony ran through his head.
# # #
In the past, when a soldier was awarded the Knight's Cross, there would be a massive ceremony back in Berlin, and Hitler himself sometimes presented the medal. As the war dragged on and people tried to assassinate the Führer, that no longer happened. Now, on the cusp of a battle they all knew they had no chance of winning, the best they could do was a ceremony at the opera house.
Not that this was, by any mean, a modest affair.
With golden walls and striking red seats, a domed ceiling that looked like golden sunset clouds, and all the elegance of the French New-Classical period, the opera house was one of the most elegant buildings Eren had ever stepped into. Whereas the Cathedral gleamed with riches of Heaven, this place gleamed with riches of the Earth, an embodiment of French aristocracy.
The same aristocrats who were beheaded in front of this opera house.
Eren's strong belief in Socialism felt it was appropriate that now such humble people like him, Armin, Jean, Connie, and all the others could sit here and enjoy what was once reserved for only the most wealthy.
It was explained that General Otto von Knobelsdorff was ill, and his replacement, General Kurt von Tippelskirch, was busy valiantly defending the north, so the ceremony was headed by Generalleutnant Vollrath Lübbe, the new commander of the 462nd Volksgrenadier Division, an imposing man with receding silver hair and eyes as sharp as steel daggers.
Also on stage were other high-ranked officers, and Eren saw Kitz Woermann sitting there. The captain looked conflicted, proud to be on stage and in front of so many others, but scowling that it was his underling getting awarded today, not him.
The ceremony started with singing Deutschlandlied and Horst-Wessel-Lied. Then Eren was called forward. As he stood there and gazed out at the sea of German uniforms, SS and Heer, he had never felt so humbled, so proud, and so conflicted in his life.
Lübbe spoke of him with lauding praising, how he bravely fought despite bombardment in Maizières-lès-Metz, how he led his entire company after all the other officers were dead or wounded, how he ground his heels in and refused to be pushed back even as the enemy began to encircle the city, how when he heard that an entire platoon was captured—Half the platoon, not all of it, thought Eren. The rest were still in that town hall and died there—he bravely raced through the war-torn streets, leading a rescue party through a hail of enemy gunfire, and when the soldier manning the flamethrower went down from a sniper—Ivan! His name was Ivan Böhme!—he took it up himself, making him a target for the snipers.
Lübbe spoke with glowing—and slightly elaborated—praise of how Eren rescued his men from the Americans, killed multiple enemies in close-combat, and saved the lives of many.
He left out that Eren had sent his NCO Moblit Berner back to the town hall with the able-bodied soldiers, and in doing so, he sent them to their doom as artillery shells destroyed the building mere minutes later, killing everyone inside.
He claimed that Eren fought through a staircase with the flamethrower to reach the last two men who were pinned down by enemy soldiers, got shot twice in the head, saved by a heavenly miracle thanks to his helmet—Lübbe even lifted the punctured helmet with one bullet still lodged inside; Eren had wondered where that helmet went.
Lübbe exclaimed how Eren got set on fire after his flamethrower was hit by a bullet—not that he caught fire later because fuel had spilled on his uniform—and then barely made it out of the building before it collapsed after the enemy began to shell the city. His head injured and his limbs burned, he still carried his wounded soldier, Stabsgefreiter Armin Arlelt—at that point, Lübbe gave a dramatic wave down to the young soldier in the front row, sitting in a wheelchair with his head wrapped in a thick bandage—and got this brave Stabsgefreiter to safety.
Because in Socialism, all men are equal and deserving, regardless of rank, wealth, or family lineage!
Unless their family is Jewish. Then they get taken away, sent to forced labor, or forced to watch as their mother is shot dead in the street. Or worse!
Eren realized Lübbe left out that he failed to reach Franz and Thomas in time. He should have mentioned the fire the Americans set that trapped them in that room, the screams of fear and pain, and how right at the end, Franz had prayed for forgiveness for being unfaithful to his wife. He should have listed all the lofty dreams Thomas had of running his family's restaurant, not all the wounds he received in his failed attempt to save them. He should have listed nearly one hundred men from their company alone who lost their lives in that hellish town.
And for what?
How was any of that worthy of a medal?
To Jarnach and others, Eren was a savior.
Some savior!
General Lübbe presented Eren with a Gold Wound Badge and pinned it to his uniform pocket. His injuries—a wound to his hand early on, two concussions (from the American Doorknocker and from the two bullets hitting his helmet) and multiple burns to his arms and neck—more than met the requirements of getting wounded five times in combat.
Next General Lübbe handed Eren a red leather folder containing his award certificate, embossed with a gold eagle and swastika. Then the general tied the Knight's Cross medal around his neck, stepped back, and saluted him with a Hitlergruß. In front of all these soldiers, Eren shot out his hand and gave the most bombastic "Heil Hitler" he had ever given in his life.
It turned his stomach, but he had to hide it.
Hide everything!
With his arm straight out, he saw a pink line on his wrist from the belt that morning. Shit!
Hide everything!
He had to give a speech. Eren honestly could not remember any of it. He thanked his men, thanked his training in Hitler Youth and Napola, and of course thanked Hitler. He ended the speech, not with another Heil Hitler, but with a phrase that felt less sickening to say:
"Sieg heil!"
They sang the national anthem again. After it was all over, every man wanted to greet Eren, salute him, thank him for being a hero and an inspiration to the troops, and some wanted to shake his hand, until his arm ached and his fingers felt numb.
After over an hour greeting them all until his body felt mechanical, he finally got to leave, but rather than making an escape, he was dragged to a party. Someone put together a polka band, beer flowed freely—still watered down, Eren noticed—and men sang in praise of Eren. Someone even knew a song about his hometown of Cuxhaven and sang it along with the band.
Eren was managing to hold it all together, to keep up his mask, to be the soldier Germany expected him to be, until the band started up a song to honor Eren's North Sea heritage, a song his mother used to sing to him.
# # #
Im reetgedeckten Häuschen, gleich hinter'm Strand am Deich
war ich als Kind zu Hause, dort ist mein Himmelreich.
Ein Shanty klingt vom Hafen, es riecht nach Salz und Teer,
und golden in der Sonne, da liegt das weite Meer.
Ich liebe die Nordsee, die Wellen und den Strand,
ich liebe die ganze, herrlich schöne Waterkant.
Die Möwen im Winde, des Leuchtturms hellen Schein,
mein Herz könnt' woanders auf der Welt nicht glücklich sein,
mein Herz könnt' woanders auf der Welt nicht glücklich sein.
Die Welt hab ich durchfahren, bis in das fernste Land,
und grüßte von der Reeling so manchen fremden Strand.
Doch stets treibt mich die Sehnsucht zur alten Heimat hin,
wo am Rand des Meeres ich dereinst geboren bin.
Ich liebe die Nordsee, die Wellen und den Strand,
ich liebe die ganze, herrlich schöne Waterkant.
Die Möwen im Winde, des Leuchtturms hellen Schein,
mein Herz könnt' woanders auf der Welt nicht glücklich sein,
mein Herz könnt' woanders auf der Welt nicht glücklich sein.
#
In a thatched cottage, just behind the beach on the dike
When I was at home as a child, my heaven is there.
A shanty sounds from the harbor, it smells of salt and tar,
and golden in the sun, there lies the vast sea.
I love the North Sea, the waves and the beach,
I love the whole, wonderfully beautiful waterfront.
The seagulls in the wind, the lighthouse's bright glow,
my heart couldn't be happy anywhere else in the world,
my heart couldn't be happy anywhere else in the world.
I have traveled the world to the farthest land,
and greeted many a foreign beach from the railing.
But the longing always drives me back to my old homeland,
where I was once born at the edge of the sea.
I love the North Sea, the waves and the beach,
I love the whole, wonderfully beautiful waterfront.
The seagulls in the wind, the lighthouse's bright glow,
my heart couldn't be happy anywhere else in the world,
my heart couldn't be happy anywhere else in the world.
# # #
Floch looked over at Eren. "Are you crying?"
Eren yanked himself out of his thoughts. "My mother loved that song. I'm thinking about what she would say right now."
Reiner leaned over. "I never got to meet your mother, but I remember Captain Hannes. He would be immensely proud of you."
Eren smiled and blinked the tears away from his eyes. "Yes, he would be. He used to get me Ritterkreuzträger autographed cards. Imagine if I were to ever get one of those."
"You will!" said Holger. "It might not be until after the final victory, but definitely, you will, and I'm going to buy one so I can tell all of my children how I was friends with a Ritterkreuzträger."
# # #
Sitting in the car and watching the rain, Eren was still haunted by that sea shanty.
What he had not told anyone was that, while listening to that song about his home in the North Sea, Eren heard his mother's voice singing it on rides in their carriage, his father handling the horses, as the family went to the beach for a picnic by the lighthouse. He could see the warm shine of her eyes in the summer sun.
And it was all shattered as her eyes went from softly tender to wide and shaking with terror.
"Not my son! He is Aryan. Hannes! Please, don't let them take Eren. He at least is Aryan."
Would his mother have been proud that he got this medal?
How could she ever be proud of any of his medals and honors, knowing her son wore a uniform adorned with the symbol of the men who killed her?
He looked down at the red leather mappe and ran his hand over the gold embossed swastika and Reich eagle. He opened it and looked at the letter inside.
Im Namen des deutschen Volkes verleihe ich dem Oberleutnant Eren Krüger Jäger das Ritterkreuz des Eisernen Kreuzes. Führerhauptquartier 6. November 1944. Der Führer und Oberste Befehlshaber der Wehrmacht.
In the name of the German people, I award First Lieutenant Eren Küger Jäger the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross. Führer Headquarters. 6 November 1944. The Führer and Supreme Commander of the Wehrmacht.
And below was Adolf Hitler's signature.
A year ago, getting this award had been Eren's dream. Three months ago, this would have been the proudest day of his life.
Now, he was haunted by the ghost of his mother's dead body lying in the street, her blood pooling across the cobbles, as Captain Hannes held Eren back and screamed at the Brownshirts to stand down, giving them orders that they looked ready to refuse despite his rank, as he demanded that Eren be spared because 'he at least is Aryan.'
Young Eren's screams of grief and horror melted into Thomas' screams of agony and fear. Hannes' begging the Brownshirts to spare the ten-year-old boy turned into Franz pleading to be forgiven for his disloyalty, knowing his death was at hand.
His knuckles tightened, threatening to bend the leather protective case.
None of them should be proud of him.
That whole night, officers around him talked about the progress being made to the north and south. Call it what they want, but all Eren saw was Germany clinging on by its nails, young men sacrificed for a strategic slowdown. Their job was to delay the Americans and their approach to the Westwall.
In that, he supposed, this all could be progress.
Regardless of the cost of lives, every day of grinding their heels in was another brick to help defend the Westwall. Every day they didn't surrender, despite all their losses, was a victory. Hail victory!
Sieg heil!
Death all around, all to buy more time for Germany to build up the defenses. That was all that mattered now: defend the homeland, hold the line, and beg God that the Allies didn't simply swarm them all by sheer force of numbers.
Sieg heil!
And now, with this medal, Eren was expected to inspire the troops, to show them that fighting to the end was what real Aryans did. Even when all seemed hopeless—no, especially when all was lost—that was when heroes were made.
Sieg heil!
He stared ahead, detached from everything, feeling a dead hollowness inside. He was haunted by screams, flames, and the moment he sent Moblit back to the town hall, back into the fight, rather than pulling all of those men out of a battle they had no chance of winning.
He was meant to be a hero, but the medal tied around his throat now choked him with all the souls lost during that so-called heroic feat...
A hero, all because he fought on at Maizières-lès-Metz and stubbornly held his position until he lost nearly every man under his command.
It was what made Werner Matzdorff want him. Eren's refusal to surrender, fighting until he was too wounded to continue and yet ready to leap into the flames again, were traits the notoriously "iron-fisted" Major wanted in his officers. He wanted a hero, someone who could convince his men to fight to the death for Germany.
Because that was what they were all about to do: fight to the death.
# # #
They pulled up to the brothel, and Eren left the car. Floch drove on as Eren walked inside. The evening's work had just begun, with officers mingling with scantly-clad ladies.
Daz ran up to him. "Jäger! I'm glad to see you know where the real men go to party. Come!" He began to yank Eren along. "There are these two girls you need to meet. Hire them both together, and I promise, you will see something you have never seen before. Just don't tell the Gestapo, haha!"
Just then, Eren saw Jean sitting on a sofa with Annie. "Ah, I need to talk to Kirschtein first. You go have fun with them first."
Daz looked confused. "Are you sure? I might be a while."
"I plan to be here all night."
"Ah, working your way through the girls," Daz said, nodding his head thoughtfully. "Well, make sure you hire Greta and Mimi together."
Eren gave a small wave and quickly left. He walked over to Jean and Annie. They were holding hands as he talked to her and she smiled dreamily, although he knew she did not understand anything he said.
Jean looked up at Eren as he approached. "Well, well! The hero of Maizières-lès-Metz arrives. You look like shit."
Eren did not even have the right frame of mind to make a comeback.
Jean pouted as he saw deadness in Eren's eyes. "Major Matzdorff, huh? Could be a lot worse."
"Yeah, I guess so," Eren muttered.
Jean glanced around the brothel. "We all have a duty to the Reich. Go take your mind off things. Take some pills, drink some wine, fuck a few girls. Or whatever you want," he mumbled under his breath. "It makes following that duty easier."
"Is that what you're doing? Drugs and sex."
"Not the drugs." Jean looked over at Annie, and tenderness warmed his eyes. "I just got word. I'm being reassigned to Saarbrücken, where my mother lives. Back home!" he said with a scoff, although he actually looked happy. "I'm to report there on the 10th."
"Well, that's good. It'll get you out of the city." Then Eren glanced over to Annie. "Oh. Does she understand?"
"No," Jean said, squeezing Annie's hand. "Part of me doesn't want to tell her, so our last days together are happy. I just want to enjoy this while I can. I don't want any sad goodbyes. Maybe it's cruel, but I'd rather her last memories of me be happy ones."
"It's going to break her heart."
Jean smiled and stroked the girl's pale hair. "I'll break her heart either way. In one, I'm an asshole who vanishes without a goodbye; in the other, I have to watch her cry, and I can't even console her because she doesn't understand a word I'm saying."
Annie picked up on some of the sadness in Jean's eyes and asked him a question in Russian.
"I'm sure you'll do what's best," said Eren. He tipped his head to Annie, who gave him a small but charming smile.
Eren walked away and saw Carly in a tight red dress, elegantly smoking a cigarette. He wove between women and soldiers and went up to her.
She eyed the golden medal on his chest and the black cross dangling from his neck. "I heard the news. Congratulations."
"Is the room still available?"
"Yes, but your darling is ... preoccupied."
"I'll wait."
She tried to judge his face. Under the cold glare, there was fear in his eyes. She guided Eren up the stairs, led him to the far end of the hallway, pulled out a key, unlocked the ornate door, and turned on the lights. After Eren marched in, Carly entered the room and locked the door behind her.
"My maids changed the sheets. They were quite a mess."
He swung a scathing glare at her.
"They also found a certain book. You didn't hide it very well."
Terror momentarily gripped Eren's throat. "Where is it?" he snapped.
Carly walked over to the table, shifted it aside, and lifted the scarlet rug underneath. To Eren, it did not look like anything was strange, but Carly pulled out a small nail file, fit the flat end between two planks of wood in the floor, and a secret compartment lifted up. She pulled the floorboard up to reveal a tiny storage area. Placed inside was Levi's Tanakh next to a pouch of marijuana and some bottles of pills.
"This room has many secrets." She lowered the plank, fixed the rug, and shifted the table back in place. "You really should hide that better. If anyone else found it..."
"Where's Levi?" he cut in.
"He's on a mission. You may have to wait a while."
Eren looked around the room: that gleaming red bed, the carved headboard where Levi had trapped him that morning, the table that still held a few fruits, and the wall with its wooden molding, where Levi would walk through and join him. He had wanted to stay in this room, make it into a little home for the two of them. It truly was the safest room in Europe for him and Levi, a place where they could talk without being heard and love without being hated.
"Leave," he ordered, and his throat choked up.
Rather than go, Carly took a few steps closer.
As his lips began to quiver, rage surged up. "LEAVE!"
Carly paused at the scream, but her face firmed up as well. She saw Eren about to fall apart. A sob choked deep in his throat, and he collapsed onto the edge of the bed. She walked over to him, sat beside him, and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.
Emotions burst out, and Eren hunched over to hide his tears. As he began to snuffle up snot and get choked on the suppressed sobs, Carly reached into her bosom and pulled out a handkerchief. Eren accepted it and wiped his dripping nose. The tiny embroidered cloth smelled of perfume, but he was still grateful.
She was so kind.
Like his mother had been.
A loud, screaming sob burst out, and Eren buried his face down into the handkerchief. Carly soothingly rubbed his back and simply let him cry.
Eren had hoped to hold all of this in until Levi arrived, but he was also glad that Levi would not be the one troubled by this outburst. A part of him felt humiliated for crying in front of a woman, but another part did not care what her gender was. Despite a few annoying flirtations, Carly had been nothing but supportive and encouraging. Even now, she was staying with him, being a friendly shoulder to cry on.
It took a few minutes, but slowly Eren's sobs calmed down, leaving his chest hiccuping as the flood of emotions ebbed away.
Carly whispered, "How long do you have?"
Eren inhaled, wet and shaking, and tried to speak through the jolts in his chest. "Three days. On the 9th, my men and I will be sent to Feste Württemberg. We will defend the fort and airfield ... to fight to the death, if need be." Fierce burning returned to his eyes. His shoulders shook with grief.
He knew he would get sent back out eventually, but he had not thought it would be so soon. He thought he would have more time with Levi.
"Feste Württemberg?" Carly whispered. "We used to call it Fort Saint-Privat, down near Marly. I grew up around there. Me, Yelena, Hange, Lili, Jolie, all of us outcasts. We would ride our bicycles out there, hide in the woods just outside the fort, smoke cigarettes, drink whiskey, make love to one another—well, not Yelena, she was never interested in sex, and Hange was too perfect for any of us." She rubbed Eren's back. "Let me know if you need anything. Wine, cigarettes, pills to make you forget everything."
Eren mumbled, "A silk scarf."
That piqued Carly's interest. "Oh? I was wondering about the lines on your wrist this morning. A little prisoner-of-war role playing? You're not the only officer who is into that."
"I'm probably the only one in love with a member of the French Resistance."
Carly chuckled and gave his back a pat. "Don't be so sure. I'll fetch the scarf and some wine. We have chicken and potato soup for dinner. I don't know how long Levi will be, so I suggest you eat. It'll help you to feel better." She got up and strutted out of the room.
Eren let out a heavy sigh. He was exhausted, with hours worth of pent-up emotions released from his heart. He removed his cap and boots. He reached up to the tunic neckline and once again felt the Knight's Cross.
It was meant to honor him, but he knew this iron weight would haunt him.
He had just removed the tunic and was hanging it up in the wardrobe when Carly returned, items in hand. She set the wine and a bowl of soup on the table, draped the scarf on the nightstand, and set down a small shot glass with a pill capsule inside.
Eren grumbled, "I don't want to be drugged."
"It'll help you to sleep. I've seen men come in like you. Their eyes burn with the Hell they've seen, and now they know they need to return to the Abyss. Men like that don't sleep well." She nodded to the pill. "It doesn't keep away the dreams, but at least you'll sleep until morning."
Eren merely nodded and whispered a thanks. Carly patted his shoulder.
"I'll tell them to send him up here as soon as he's back, but I don't know how long that will be."
"Do you know where he is?"
"They don't tell me these things, and I know better than to ask. The less I know, the safer I am. Consider that as advice." Then she stepped out of the room.
Eren let out a huff. "I already know too much."
Eren sat down to dinner. He tried to eat the soup slowly, but eventually the bowl was empty, and still he was alone. He opened the wine and had a glass.
An hour ticked by. Two. Three. He checked his watch and saw it was long after midnight.
Eren could not just sit there. He went into the adjoining room and started up the bathtub. He would at least be clean for Levi. He knew how much the man loved cleanliness.
Eren scrubbed himself thoroughly. All the darkness of the outside world, the dust and grim of war, the smell of gunpowder a few kilometers to the south, he washed it all away. He scrubbed his skin until it hurt and turned an angry pink.
He stared ahead as scenes of battle and death flashed through his eyes. The screams of war grew louder, LOUDER, deafening.
Suddenly, he collapsed backwards and sank into the water, plunging fully under.
It was quiet here. No screams. No sound at all. So peaceful, just floating there!
A thought trickled into his mind, like the first drip from a crack in a dam that was about to burst and flood everything. A dark yet sweet thought.
There was one way to escape this fate.
He could simply drown, right here.
He didn't have to go back out there. They would find him and assume he fell asleep in the bath after a night of too much drinking. Not a heroic way to go, but at least it wasn't painful.
That trickle of a thought grew.
How easily he could escape!
How simple, really!
He wouldn't have to go back to the bombs and bullets and screams of men dying.
He would never again be responsible for another man dying.
Eren opened his mouth. He felt the water flow in, drowning in tongue, and trying to push past the bubble of air in his throat. He closed his eyes against the watery view of the ceiling, shutting out everything as his mind sank, sank, drowning in darkness.
It was just water in the lungs, a painless way to go.
A single minute, and it would be over.
No more nightmares.
No more memories.
No more pain.
Nothing!
Suddenly, he burst up from the water, coughing and screaming in rage. He refused to let that dam burst and sweep him into flooding darkness.
He had promised Levi that he would survive this war.
He couldn't die.
Not yet.
He curled up in a ball in the tub, hugged his knees, and his tears salted the water.
He couldn't die, he refused to surrender to the dark...
...Yet it hurt so damn much to live!
# # #
# #
#
I had to write heil Hitler so many times in this chapter, I felt like it was the heil scene from Jojo Rabbit.
"Titillation" – A stimulation by touching lightly; to excite another pleasurably, superficially or erotically. I first learned this word in a college preparatory class but never actually came across it in writing until I read a graphic novel set in Victorian England about people who are into what we now know as BDSM. As one of the characters catches the others in the midst of kinky play, he awkwardly realizes "this is for titillation." Victorian English for "kinky shit."
Pont de Roches – One of four bridges connecting Île du Petit-Saulcy to the rest of Metz. Sadly, last year (2022) while stopping for a pedestrian, an elderly driver mixed up his pedals, accelerated instead to braking, hit the pedestrian, smashed into the bridge, fell over the edge, and landed upside down on another car below. Thankfully, he did not fall into the canal, no one was killed, but many meters of the 300-year-old bridge were destroyed.
Metz Opera (Opéra-Théâtre de Metz) – It is the oldest theater still in use in France. Construction began in 1732, with draining the swampy island of Petit-Saulcy, connecting it to Metz with bridges, and mining the golden-yellow Jaumont stone found along the Moselle that gives old Metz its iconic sunny yellow color; however, wars paused the building efforts, and it was not finished until 1752. The Metz Opera was meant to embody the Age of Enlightenment, but just 37 years after its grand opening, the square in front of the opera house was the site for guillotine executions during the French Revolution. It originally held almost 1,400 seats, but this was reduced to 750 in 1963.
Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross (Das Ritterkreuz des Eisernen Kreuzes) – Following the ideals of socialism, every soldier—enlisted or officer—was eligible for this medal. It honored acts of bravery or "exemplary conduct of the unit as a whole." The medal had to be approved by Hitler himself. It was a neck decoration worn on a red, white, and black ribbon that tucked under the tunic collar and tied in the back. To qualify, a soldier had to have already been awarded with the Iron Cross Second and First Class, and done an especially heroic act: sank so many ships for the Kriegsmarine, shot down so many planes for the Luftwaffe, or heroic feats on land for the Heer. As iconic as it is now, only 8,000 were awarded, mostly during the end of the war, as these were handed out more as a way to "strengthen the soldiers' motivation and perseverance." Nazi propaganda promoted the Ritterkreuzträger (Knight's Cross Holder) as heroes, and they even had their own autograph cards. Hitler sometimes would present the award himself, but after the assassination attempt during the 20 July Plot, he rarely did so. The recipients would give lectures at Hitler Youth events to serve as heroic role models for young children. Hitler also announced that recipients would be exempt from taxes after the "final victory." Another way they were honored was in military greeting order. The rule was that, when greeting soldiers, "lower rank greets higher first." Thus a First Lieutenant like Eren would greet a Captain or Major first, and they would greet him back; however, with Ritterkreuzträger, a higher ranked person would have to greet Eren first. This emphasized the "hero" status they had in the military. Once awarded, the soldier was expected to inspire the troops around him, which meant younger, lower ranked soldiers often did dangerous, daredevil acts that got many of them killed.
World War – I had to look up what the Germans called the war that began in 1914. The original term was "The European War." The German word Weltkrieg (World War) would appear later that year. The British and French called it the Great War or La Grande Guerre, while the Americans used both World War and Great War interchangeably. Then 1939 came, and everyone realized it wasn't so "Great" after all. The British simply called this new conflict "The War" until the late 1940s, but they and Canada eventually preferred "Second World War," a term used by President Franklin D. Roosevelt in a 1941 address. Funny enough, Roosevelt didn't like that name, so he asked the public to recommend what they should call the conflict. "World War II" soon became the most popular term. (I swear to God, if that happened today, we'd get "Warry McWarface.")
Kitz mentions that his daughter is engaged to an SS officer named Hans, the son of his old military buddy, Major Schweitzer. This choice in name is based on Hans Schweitzer, artist, personal friend of Joseph Goebbels, and one of the first 30 members of the NSDAP in Berlin, so he is an OG Nazi. He was the man behind many of the Nazi posters, in both their rise to power and promoting the war. He designed the new Third Reich coins (I own a few) and is partly responsible for the ban, confiscation, and destruction of so-called degenerate art, i.e. any modern art like Surrealism, Cubism, Impressionism, and Jewish artists. A guy who burns a Picasso or a Monet because it "isn't really art" can kindly go fuck himself.
"Those old men aren't soldiers; they're cannon fodder." – In the early days of the Battle of Metz, the true power behind the German defense were trainees from the multiple officer and NCO training schools located in Metz. Beginning in October, German High Command began to pull officers and NCOs away from Metz, realizing the city was going to fall, but Hitler was determined not to surrender. So on October 9th, all candidates in the training schools were graduated and sent to other areas of the Western Front. To fill in the gaps, security battalions from the Westwall were sent in. These replacement soldiers were either very young, poorly trained, or they were older soldiers, and many were already injured. The older men had either trained long before the war began and were out of shape, or they had never been in combat before, got drafted, rushed through basic training without the same rigors as preparatory groups like Napola and Hitler Youth, and placed on the Westwall because, at the time, it was a dead-end deployment. According to reports, upon seeing the replacement soldiers, Major Werner Matzdorff shook his head and lamented, "Such old geezers, they're no soldiers."
I made an award specifically for Eren. (And spend HOURS trying to find a font that mimics close enough and figuring out just the right settings to get the gold emboss to look the same.) The ones like this one pictures that are actually signed by Hitler, not just stamped, can sell at auction for $18,000. (All image are on AO3.)
General der Panzertruppe Otto von Knobelsdorff was the first real-life person to appear in this story, back when Eren got his promotion to oberleutnant and Iron Cross First Class. (Chapter 33, "Promotions Well Earned") I really wanted to bring Knobelsdorff back, sort of like Eren is coming full circle in Metz, but during this time in the real timeline, he was sick.
I want to share a little story that shows the difference between Hitler's brainwashed, hate-filled youths, and some of the older, established officers who, up until 1932, were by law forced to be apolitical. (To clarify, some older officers 100% agreed with Nazi ideology and thrived on the idea of purging Germany of people they saw as inferior, but this was by no means universal.)
When he was stationed on the Eastern Front, Knobelsdorff saw members of the SS Einsatzgruppen ("death squads") preparing to massacre Jews. He arrested the soldiers and planned to execute them. Himmler told him to let his men go, but Knobelsdorff knew that killing unarmed, non-combatant civilians was a war crime, so these men deserved appropriate punishment. Hitler himself had to step in and order Knobelsdorff to stop the execution. Shortly after that, he was moved to another location. It makes me wonder if the reason he was sent to the Western Front was to remove him from the massive spree of war crimes occurring on the Eastern Front. Later during the Battle of Metz, Knobelsdorff defied Hitler and his seemingly insane orders (in reality, preparing for the Battle of the Bulge) and would be relieved of duty. He would fall sick again, go on leave, and never get another command before the end of the war.
General der Infanterie Kurt von Tippelskirch – On October 31st, General Knobelsdorff fell ill and went on leave. Tippelskirch, who was just coming back into service after being wounded in a plane crash, led the German First Army until Knobelsdorff recovered. He would later go on to serve during the Italian campaign. I originally had this scene led by him, but on November 6th, Metz was struggling to get trains in past the Allies to deliver supplies of food and ammo, let alone bring in a dignitary for an awards ceremony in a besieged city.
Generalleutnant Vollrath Lübbe – Lübbe took over the 462nd Volksgrenadier Division on October 15, 1944. While Knobelsdorff was in charge of the entire First Army along the Western Front, Lübbe was in charge of defending Metz. We will see more of him later, so I don't want to give away too much. (I had such a hard time not mentally thinking of him as "General Lube" LOL!)
Songs of Cuxhaven – I love sea shanties, so when I heard Ich liebe die Nordsee I just had to include it. I also want to shout out this musician I found on YouTube singing a song specifically about Eren's hometown of Cuxhaven. I have no idea what the lyrics are, I just like the song.
Greta and Mimi – It is implied that these two prostitutes in Carly's brothel are lesbians, or at least will agree to do lesbian acts. They are named after real-life lesbian couple, actresses Greta Garbo and Mimi Pollak.
For how strictly anti-gay Nazi Germany was, lesbians were not specifically targeted (although they could be arrested for other things). Many high-ranked officers had a kink for lesbian acts performed by prostitutes, including Joseph Goebbels, although politically, the Nazis still claimed that this was a profane thing. (Kinda like how the loudest anti-gay politicians, religious leaders, and pro-conversion therapists keep ending up in sex scandals with gay lovers.)
Werner Matzdorff (1912-2010) – Sturmbannführer of the Waffen-SS, Major of the Schutzpolizei (Protection Police), Commander of Feste Württemberg, officer of the 4th SS-Polizei-Panzergrenadier-Division. He saw his first action in France. He was awarded with both iron crosses for his campaign and with two Stürmtage for the infantry assault badge in the small villages Vonce (Voncq) and Les Islettes. Matzdorff was then Hauptmann within the 2nd SS-Polizei-Schützen-Regiment. After the Blitzkrieg, Matzdorff was send to the Eastern Front. He was encircled by the Russian army in Kusmino. On March 29, 1943, he received the Deutsches Kreuz in Gold (German Cross in Gold) for his "clearance" actions in Russia. In 1944, Matzdorff became the commander of Feste Prinz August von Württemberg (Fort Saint-Privat), one of the inner fortresses around the city of Metz. He was known to rule "with an iron fist." He was one of the commanders that swore not to surrender and to fight until the last man standing.
Feste Württemberg – Feste Prinz August von Württemberg was built by German engineers in 1872-1875, back when Metz was part of the German Empire. It formed part of the inner belt around the fortress of Metz. The fort is located on the right bank of the Moselle and on the left bank of the Seille, in the district of the municipality of Marly, about five kilometers southwest from the town center.
After the First World War, as the Lorraine region came under French control, the fortress was rechristened as Fort Saint-Privat. Soon after, construction of a military airfield (Base aérienne 128 Metz-Frescaty) began, including the fort within the military compound.
(American F-82 Thunderjets flying over the Metz-Frescaty airbase)
After the 1940 Battle of France, the Germans resumed control of the region, and the fort was again called Feste Württemberg. In 1944, the fort and nearby Metz-Frescaty airfield were under the command of Sturmbannführer der Waffen-SS und Major der Schutzpolizei Werner Matzdorff. Knowing that the fort would not be able to hold out for long, he led a relentless defense and made no move to lay down his arms.
The fort and airbase were relentlessly bombed by USAAF Ninth Air Force Martin B-26 Marauder medium bombers and Republic P-47 Thunderbolts. The Americans pinned down the Luftwaffe aircraft with unguided rockets and .50 caliber machine gun sweeps whenever heavy bombers, like the Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress and B-24 Liberator, were within interception range. Also, P-51 Mustang fighter-escort groups of the Eighth Air Force would drop down on their return to England and attack the base with a fighter sweep and strike at any target of opportunity to be found.
(B-26 Marauder, P-47 Thunderbolt, B-17 Flying Fortress, B-24 Liberator, and P-51 Mustang)
On November 20th, Matzdorff left the facility with a white flag to tell the commander of the U.S. 11th Infantry Regiment that he and his men would fight to the death "if need be" but he asked that twenty of his seriously wounded be taken out to get medical care. This must be allowed under the Geneva Convention. After the wounded were taken away, the fighting resumed.
On November 22nd, Metz surrendered. Despite that, Feste Württemberg and the Frescaty Airport, like the other eastern fortifications, continued to resist American attacks. As Matzdorff had said, they were prepared to fight to the death.
However, after another week of relentless shooting and bombing, the situation became increasingly critical. Food and ammunition were running out. Eighty of Matzdorff's men were wounded and had not received medical attention for a week. Many soldiers had already given up and walked over to the American side to surrender. On November 29, 1944, Major Werner Matzdorff agreed to an unconditional surrender. He was taken prisoner with 22 officers and 488 non-commissioned officers and enlisted men. The swastika flag over the airfield was lowered, but slogans of perseverance remained, painted on the walls of the fort, fatalistic phrases such as: "Der Mann kann fallen, die Fahne nie." The man can fall, the flag cannot.
Although the fort fell, the objective of the German General Staff was to stall U.S. troops for as long as possible ahead of the Westwall (Siegfried Line). In that, the Germans achieved their objective.