Before Our Dawn| ongoing

thirty-one

Chapitre trente-et-un
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Hans had a dreadful feeling in his stomach since he woke up this morning. Even as he dressed in his uniform, had gone down to the mess to eat, and had reported to headquarters, there was something amiss—he just couldn't put his finger on it.

Once again, he was put on patrol, which he preferred over desk duty, since he had the opportunity to walk about and maybe wander off on his own later should either Kurt or Friedrich become distracted. Unfortunately, today, he hadn't been able to evade their company, and so he was stuck with Friedrich until the evening.

Despite how much time they spent together, he didn't know much about his fellow soldier, and neither had he bothered to ask. Forging friendships at a time like this proved useless, and Friedrich wasn't exactly the type for friendship. He was here for one thing and one thing—to serve his army, his country, and carry out his orders. His commitment was admirable, Hans could admit, but he was devoid of the things that made people human; smiles, laughter, empathy, compassion. The necessities. No, Friedrich was logical to a fault, detached from the lives of others. It both unnerved Hans and awed him.

They patrolled the streets that evening, their footsteps resounding in the silence of the curfew-bound town. It was a moonless night, and the shadows danced eerily on the cobblestone streets.

Friedrich was the first to speak after a long episode of silence. "You remember that woman from a while ago? The one with the little girl? The exotic one that married a Frenchman?"

Hans's heart clenched at the description of Isra and Sophie. He needed to keep his hands busy. He reached into the pocket of his uniform and retrieved a cigarette and matches. He nodded, masking his unease. "Yes, I remember."

"I saw them yesterday. Isra was giving one of our soldiers, Joachim, a hard time. You know Joachim, don't you?"

He didn't, but he nodded his head again, eager to hear the rest of the story.

"She caused quite the ruckus. You see, she complained about her rations being too small. And then she accused Joachim of giving her rations to the girl who had been ahead of her in line!" Friedrich's expression shifted from malice to smug satisfaction, recounting the incident. "Joachim wanted to arrest them both, but I stepped in and suggested we take the child instead. I thought it would be a charitable act. You know how persuasive I can be. I practically saved her life."

Hans was able to mumble a response, carefully controlling his emotions. "That was... kind of you."

"And Joachim could use some lessons in patience and understanding. She was practically in tears by the time we took her daughter away. I have to admit, she did have a point about what he had done," his voice was surprisingly soft and contemplative, his eyes staring out at the scenery ahead, but not quite focused. "Food is already scarce. Her anger was not misplaced."

Hans lifted the cigarette to his mouth, inhaling the nicotine, hoping that Friedrich didn't pick up on the tremor in his hand. "I suppose not."

Taking another drag from his cigarette, he looked straight ahead, trying to maintain an air of detachment, even though his mind was already whirring and spinning. All he could think about was Isra and Sophie and how stupid she had been for disrespecting a soldier.

Oh, Isra, you idiot!

Hans inhaled another drag from his cigarette. "Where will they take the girl?"

He remained cool and detached, traces of sympathy vanished as if discussing the most mundane of topics. "Well, there's a good chance they'll send her to Gurs, or perhaps another camp. But honestly, the odds of her surviving alone, especially at her age, are slim to none."