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"It's not safe here." said Günter, the Feldwebel. “You think not?” said the Oberst. He smiled a tired smile inside himself. He wished to pat his sergeant on the thigh but his hand didn’t move. It was a nice day out, unusual for this late in the year; chilly but not quite winter chilly. The two men sat on the ashy wood floor above the courtyard, a barbed wire fence silent and constant outside. Through the fence a few hundred sunken eyes stared out the fence, staring at nothing. The glass in the window above the two soldiers began to buzz with the rumble of heavy diesel engines. Neither man said anything. Then a near sound, a rising sound like eight thousand beaten dogs might make, ears unfolding. Tails stirring. The dogs with enough strength began to rise. Dust rose with them. “Detroit!” said Günter. He looked at his Colonel and nodded his head with relief. The Oberst trusted his sergeant. Günter had spent too long on the Eastern front not to know the difference. The two men remained seated, their eyes a thousand miles away, a thousand lifetimes away. The files were burned. Ash continued to fall like burnt snow through the air in the room. The cheering from outside began to sound human as the tanks grew closer, perhaps even in sight, though neither man rose to look through the window. There was not much more to do. "It's not safe here,” said Günter again, and this time both men laughed out loud. They rose to their feet at the same time and stood a foot apart looking at each other. “I love you,” said Günter. The Oberst smiled a tired smile inside himself. 297 Words |