Blood-red velvet (Dieter)

[Werner von Maybach]

Country: The city of Mersa Matruh, Egyptian- Lybian border area, red- light district
Current Time: some hours before sunset, 15th of September 1942
Weather Conditions: sunny, very hot, air is standing still at the moment

Unteroffizier Werner von Maybach had already thrown away his tropical helmet and his waist belt, when he slowly sat down on the dusty ground besides his equipment, releasing a loud sound that was expressing his pure enjoyment about finally finding a place to rest. Above the man, the leaves of a giant palm tree rose into the sky, spending at least a small tad of wonderful cool shadow. Werner's hair was glued from sweat, his face was a grey mask of dust, his eyebrows where equaling thick bulges and even through his sweat- soaked tropical tunic the dust had penetrated. Tanned from the African sun and the desert wind, the German Unteroffizier merely looked like a inhabitant of the desert, only his uniform wasn't fitting to the image. "Mann oh Mann, tut das gut, sich hier mal wieder so richtig ausstrecken zu können. Viel besser als die ganze Zeit in der verdammten Karre zu hocken und durch diese gottverlassene Gegend hier zu schaukeln. Nichts als Sand und Steine so weit man schauen kann."

While he was speaking, Werner smilingly lurked to the man sitting right besides him, a soldier named Rentz, who actually didn't look all too different. Although the evening wasn't very far anymore, the sun still burned down merciless on the heads of the German soldiers that weren't completely covered by the shadows of the oriental looking tree. Nearly all day the two men had spent in the back of a ramshackle German Steyr 1500A, completely surrounded by the agonizing dust.

Just some minutes ago, the two soldiers had arrived in the outskirts of Mersa Matruh, one of the bigger cities in the Egyptian- Lybian desert, what had been their destination point for today. Although Werner still found it even sarcastic, to call that small settlement a real city. It had once been an Egyptian border fort in the times of the mighty pharaohs, nowadays it had to serve as a German supply base, although the harbor of this small city was merely a tiny joke. But after weeks of fighting, of advancing and retreating and finally of standing still at the El Alamein line, that no German soldier had managed to break through yet, this small hole was just as pleasant as Berlin by night in the eyes of the two grenadiers. And two days of holiday appeared just like paradise on earth to them, nearly too good to be true at all.

Snorting Werner grasped for air, when he poured the rest of the water inside his canteen completely over his head. Although the water was nearly as warm as the air surrounding the man, it at least washed a bit of the sand off Werner's face. Satisfied he looked over to the other German Unteroffizier and started speaking again: "Wasser is ja nicht schlecht, aber ich wüßt da was, das tät mir grad noch besser. Kannst ja ma raten. Es ist auch flüßig, so kalt wie möglich und fängt mit B an. Hört übrigens mit ier auf. Irgendwo hier muß es doch sowas geben, sind ja genug Deutsche hier, oder?"

Slowly, Werner raised himself off the ground now. Holding one hand at his forehand to save his eyes from the bright sun, he peaked around the small place where the two soldiers had left their vehicle. The lively square was surrounded by small, white buildings and everywhere, inhabitants and German or Italian soldiers where walking around. Some of the Egyptians had build up small, wooden stands, where they where offering all kinds of goods for trade. Werner could see a lot of fruits, still living fishes and even more exotic things, that he even couldn't identify at all. One Arabian looking man loudly screamed something in a funny mixture of Arabian, English and German words, advertising his wooden baskets for sale. Obviously, the residents had already learned to deal with the new occupying forces very well.

Suddenly Werner started to laugh loudly, pointing his finger at one building directly behind the palm tree. At the white wall, there was hanging an old, worn out propaganda poster. It was showing a giant gorilla wearing an old, British appearing uniform. In his right claw he held a telephone receiver and he seemed to be deeply concentrated into what he was hearing. Still grinning, Werner silently moved his lips while he read the message, that was warning in big white letters using both German and Italian language: "Sprich nicht zuviel. Der Feind hört mit! / Non parlare troppo. Il nemico è in ascolto!". Slowly shaking his head, Werner collected his gear from the ground again and readied himself to walk on, clearly showing that he was hardly intend on having a beer now. "Dann lass uns mal losgehen. Aber sprich nicht zuviel, denn du weißt, der Tommy hört dir selbst auf der Latrine noch beim furzen zu."

Translations:

"Mann oh Mann, tut das gut, ... ."
"Man oh man, it's so good to be able to really stretch oneself's muscles here again. Way better than sitting in that damned car all the time and dandling through that godforsaken landscape. Nothing but sand and stones as far as one can see."

"Wasser is ja nicht schlecht, aber ich wüßt da was, ... ?"
"Water isn't all too bad, but I would know something that would even do me better right now. Maybe you can riddle it out? It's liquid as well, as cold as possible and it starts with a b. By the way, it's ending with eer. Somewhere here they must have something like that, aren't there enough Germans around?"

"Sprich nicht zuviel. Der Feind hört mit! / Non parlare troppo. Il nemico è in ascolto!"
"Don't talk too much, the enemy is listening to you."

"Dann lass uns mal losgehen. Aber sprich nicht zuviel, ... ."
"Well, I guess let's move on. But don't talk too much because you know, the Tommy is even listening to you while farting on the latrine."

[Dieter "Iceman" Rentz]

Dieter's blue eyes were half-closed in contemplation as the man sat on the dusty ground, an unlit cigarette loosely hanging from between his cracked lips. He could feel the rough and uncomfortable surface of the palm tree pushing into his back, but it was easy to ignore that when the intolerable heat penetrated all of his other senses. It was something one learned to cope with, but he had never actually gotten used to it. He just sat there, wrists resting lazily over his bent knees, and savored the moment of not having to do anything at all. He had the strange feeling that if he got too elated over their brief spot of leave, he would wake up in a tent and find out that he had been dreaming, after all. The sleeves of his sand-coloured Unteroffizier's tunic had been rolled up and the Feldmutze in matching colour was partly hanging over his eyes to shield them from the sun. He was utterly dusty, sweaty and no doubt quite smelly also, but he still found himself wondering if it was worth it even trying to change that situation here in Mersa Matruh - he would be just as dusty and sweaty as soon as they left the city, anyway.

The journey to the city had been unpleasant and bumpy, but Dieter had managed to sleep almost the entire way. He had the very welcome (and sometimes unwelcome) ability of sleeping through almost anything and even the vicious jolting of the vehicle had done very little to disturb his sleep. Someone had once said that Unteroffizier Rentz could sleep through a tank platoon rumbling just by him and it might have been true - he had never had the chance to test this theory and he really did not wish to, either. Some of the soldiers had told him that they would come up with a proper prank for the sleeping Rentz one day, yet, but he had been safe from any such retributions so far.

The man shifted only his eyes and not really his head when he heard Unteroffizier von Maybach sit down on the ground next to him, emitting a deep sigh of satisfaction. The other German soldier was looking just as dusty as he was and Dieter's lips curved into a lazy smile when he heard the him complaining about their car journey to the city. "Nichts als Sand und Steine? Oh, ich sah diejenigen nicht. Ich war auf einer tropischen Insel, und nackte Mädchen boten mir Getränke von Kokosnüssen an," the cigarette bounced precariously between the blonde man's lips as he referred to the pleasant dreams he had been enjoying all the way to Mersa Matruh (even though his head had kept bouncing against the metal frame of the vehicle) and his smile widened slowly at the thought.

He closed his eyes halfway again, just out of pure laziness, and heard Werner pouring water out of his canteen to cool himself off. Dieter forced himself to some measure of attentiveness once again when Werner addressed him again and even though Rentz wasn't the kind of man who was particularly gifted in solving riddles, he could easily solve the one Werner now presented him with. Dieter's blue eyes snapped open quickly and he grabbed the unlit cigarette from his mouth. "Kaltes Bier! Bin ich auch dafür," the man exclaimed with new-found vigour and placed the cigarette behind his ear as he clambered up to his feet. Brushing some dust from his uniform, more out of habit than practicality, the man suddenly heard Werner bursting out in laughter and he turned around, raising an eyebrow at him as if he had figured that he had done something amusing without realizing it. Dieter's eyes followed the other man's gaze and settled on the propaganda poster with a gorilla, joining in the laughter when he saw it and suddenly feeling much more lively and excited over their two days of freedom. The possibilities seemed so endless now and an exhilarating feeling of anticipation made his skin tingle curiously. He snorted even louder when he heard the other man's wisecrack about Tommies listening to them even in latrine and Dieter gave the other man a sly grin.

"Ja, aber Sie das Furzen zu hören, brauchen sie keine Spione sogar zu haben. Sie können das den ganzen Weg in London hören!" Dieter laughed harder and punched Werner on the arm, his eyes lighting up even more when he came up with something else. "Sieh, es gibt das Grenadier, und er umläuft, sagend, dass wir Schutz nehmen müssen, weil es eine Artilleriefeuer gibt. Und dann erzähle ich ihm gerade: Nein, Junge, es ist gerade Werner Scheißen!" The blonde-haired Unteroffizier's laughter was rapid and uncontrolled, bordering on a giggle and he had to hold a hand over his stomach when it started hurting. Dieter moved nimbly towards his gear to pick them up, although he still suffered from short spouts of laughter and managed to drop his canteen due to just such an attack. Snorting and wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, he finally succeeded in taking gathering all of his things and soon the man fell into a step beside Werner, still flashing him amused grins. Dieter was always the one to start cracking jokes, both good and bad ones, to lift up other people's moods and he simply could not stand people who lacked a sense of humour. All the traces of his earlier laziness had completely disappeared and there was a lively spring to the Unteroffizier's step as he took in the sights of the city, a small smile lingering on his lips the entire time.

He ignored the sellers that had lined up their stalls on the sides of the street and dodged around people, blue eyes scanning hopefully for any establishment that might have even remotely resembled a bar. His eyes fell on a hastily scribbled sign with the words "Wüstenfuchs" (obviously to attract the local German clientele) and an image of a brown bottle. The said bottle could have of course contained just about anything, but all Dieter could see was beer. "Werner!" Dieter exclaimed suddenly and grabbed his friend by the arm, his eyes fixed on the sign. "Bier! Vielleicht ist es sogar kaltes Bier und schmeckt wie die Pisse des Kamels nicht. Obwohl ... was sorge ich mich, ob es Bier ist?" Dieter made an overly excited face at Werner, mouth half open, half grinning and his eyebrows raised as high as he possibly could. "Mach schon!" Dieter was already dragging the other man with him towards the stairs that had been cut into the stone, leading underground and inside the rather shady establishment.


Translations:

"Nichts als Sand und Steine? Oh, ich sah diejenigen nicht. Ich war auf einer tropischen Insel, und nackte Mädchen boten mir Getränke von Kokosnüssen an."
"Just sand and rocks? Oh, I did not see those. I was on a tropical island and naked girls were offering me drinks from coconuts."

"Kaltes Bier! Bin ich auch dafür."
"Cold beer! Yeah, I'll vote for that."

"Ja, aber Sie das Furzen zu hören, brauchen sie keine Spione sogar zu haben. Sie können das den ganzen Weg in London hören!"
"Yes, but to hear you farting, they don't even need to have any spies. They can hear that all the way in London!"

"Sieh, es gibt das Grenadier, und er umläuft, sagend, dass wir Schutz nehmen müssen, weil es eine Artilleriefeuer gibt. Und dann erzähle ich ihm gerade: Nein, Junge, es ist gerade Werner Scheißen!"
"See, there's this private and he's running around, saying that we have to take shelter because there's an artillery barrage. And then I just tell him: No, boy, that's just Werner taking a crap!"

"Bier! Vielleicht ist es sogar kaltes Bier und schmeckt wie die Pisse des Kamels nicht. Obwohl ... was sorge ich mich, ob es Bier ist?"
"Beer! Maybe it's even cold beer and doesn't taste like camel's piss. Although... what do I care if it's beer?"

"Mach schon!"
"Come on!"

[Werner von Maybach]

Dieter suddenly started laughing as if the sun had burnt a bit too much during these last hours and his stupid answer did also cause Werner to grin even more. After a few seconds only, he immediately replied: "Arsch. Aber lieber laut, als wies bei dir is. Weißt du noch, als Oberleutnant Schuster fast das Hauptquartier kontaktiert hätte, weil er dachte der Tommy hat angefangen, Giftgas gegen uns einzusetzen? Im letzten Augenblick konnten wir Ihn beruhigen und davon überzeugen, daß der Gestank vom Stabsgefreiten Rentz auf der Latrine kommt." Slowly Werner finished to put on his waist belt again. He hung his canteen back to it's place and relaxed refitted the order of his other equipment. While doing so, he still grinned at Dieter all the time like a small school boy, expressing a mixture between his satisfaction about his half intelligent counter and Werner's generally good mood on this promising day.

"Werner." Only seconds before the man besides him grabbed his arm to obtain his attention, Werner also discovered the small, wooden sign that was showing a bottle and some crippled, black letters. Before he even had deciphered the scribbled writing, the possible meaning of the sign clearly flashed through Werner's mind within instants. It hung over an underground entrance, leading into one of the many, shady white buildings arranged around the oriental square. And although one couldn't recognize at all what was going on inside this small establishment, Dieter had already started to walk into the direction of the entrance, slowly dragging Werner behind him.

"Ja so warte doch kurz, ein alter Mann is doch kein Kübelwagen.", Werner said quickly, although he had already given up every resistance against his friend. Coming closer to the entrance, Werner discovered it to be completely closed by a big, thick curtain made of velvet. The clothes was colored in a dark- red tone that immediately reminded him of the color of blood. A slight melody came through the heavy curtain, sung by a beautiful, female voice that instantly attained all of Werner's senses. If he hadn't been assured of entering this establishment only seconds before, now that he had heard that catching voice, Werner gently pushed aside Dieter's hand and hastily stepped on the stairs leading into the underground. The curtain actually was even heavier than it had appeared, Werner realized, when he gently pushed it aside after he had reached the bottom of the stair. The hallucinating voice grew louder, but in the very first moment, Werner wasn't able to recognize a lot in the small cellar- establishment at all.

It toke Werner's eyes some time, before they finally got acclimatized with the quiet dark environment. The big, underground room was only sparely lightened by some, red glowing lamps in the corners. On one side Werner could discover quiet a big counter, where several men, mostly Germans, but also some inhabitants and Italian soldiers where sitting. Most of them where loudly discussing or cheering, with almost everyone of them holding a filled glass in his hands. On a small platform in one end of the cellar- room stood a breathtaking, exotic looking singer while singing that wonderful melody. Instantly, Werner knew that the two Afrika- Korps- soldiers where just absolutely right in this shabby place.

After entering through the heavy curtain, Werner steadily aimed his steps directly for the long counter. He had spent nearly even too much of his life's time in bars or similar establishments, what made him feel somehow comfortable with the situation right from the start. Two free seats where his aim and when he finally reached them, Werner satisfied placed himself on one of them. Behind him, he realized Dieter quickly following him inside the rather large room. Werner needed to grin heavily again, when he looked at the other Unteroffizier, who had just taken the seat right next to him. "War ja nich schwer zu finden der Laden. Hoffentlich gibts hier auch was anständiges zu trinken und nich nur dieses Italienische Spülwasser." The bar- keeper was momentarily busy serving some other guests, what gave Werner some more seconds to look around the big bar a bit longer. At one of the tables, he recognized a small group of German officers, who had a rather cheerfully conversation with each other, disturbed by some loud laughing every now and then. Between the officers sat some, admittedly good looking, Arabic women who seemed to be quite anxious entertaining their male counterparts. One of the officers even obviously had his right arm almost slung around the bottom of one of the exotic beauties.

Finally, the bar tender turned over to Werner, who discovered a rather old, grey- haired, Arabic looking man who expectantly looked at the two Germans. Putting two of his fingers into the air, Werner slowly addressed to the man: "Zwei Bier, bitte.", hopeing that the man would somehow understand.

Translations:

"Arsch. Aber lieber laut, als wies bei dir is. ..."
"Ass. But better loud than the way you use to do it. Can you still remember the day, when Oberleutnant Schuster was nearly calling the headquarters to message, that the Tommie's had started to use gas in our sector? In the last instant, we could assure him, that this horrible smell was only coming from Stabsgefreiter Rentz on the latrine."

"Ja so warte doch kurz, ein alter Mann is doch kein Kübelwagen."
"Just wait for a moment, an old man isn't a Kübelwagen."

"War ja nich schwer zu finden der Laden. ..."
"So, that place wasn't all too hard to find. Hopefully they've got something reasonable to drink here and not only that Italian flushing water."

"Zwei Bier, bitte."
"Two beers, please."

[Dieter "Iceman" Rentz]

Dieter stared at the enticing doorway in a stunned fashion, hardly even noticing that Werner wasn't appreciating his continuous enthusiasm. In fact, the young man was so completely enthralled by the sight of the doorway that could have just as well been the very gates of Heaven itself, that he failed to notice the other Unteroffizier pushing his hand away. Dieter could hear the gentle, soft female voice through the curtains, singing some local tune that, at least in his weary mind, sounded like the singing of an angel. What wonders might he find behind those blood-red curtains, what kind of oasis could there exist in the middle of this relentless desert? Dieter raised his hand to poke Werner in the arm, but his fingers touched empty air instead and the blonde man blinked, realizing that the other man had already started heading towards the curious establishment. Hastening his steps for a moment, Dieter managed to catch up with the man, following just behind him and pushing aside the velvet curtain as they descended down the stairs and stepped inside the underground bar.

They both stood at the doorway for a while, blinking at the scarce lighting and Dieter fervently tried to get his eyes used to the darkness, just so that he could spot the source of the enthralling singing. As his eyes slowly grew more accustomed to the dimness of the underground bar, he could see that it had already lured in several customers, both German and Italian soldiers and some local men, as well. They were having loud discussions and enjoying their drinks, no doubt thankful for the slightly cooler climate after having been tormented by the harsh desert sun. Dieter's blue eyes scanned the people inside the bar and fell on the source of the enthralling singing - a dark-haired, exotic beauty standing on a small platform, her hands and hips swaying to the rhythm of her singing. The young Unteroffizier stared at the sight and very slowly, reached his hand to take the cap off his head, some rather unintelligible sounds escaping from his lips. Again, Werner had not been quite as captivated by all of these exotic sights as Dieter was, so the man had to hurry after his friend again.

Dieter stuffed the dusty field cap under his belt before he took a seat next to Werner in front of the counter, stealing another quick gaze towards the female singer and abruptly turning his attention towards the other Unteroffizier when he heard him speak. Werner was commenting on the possible quality of the local beer or, in this case, the lack of it. Dieter grinned at him, running a hand through his hair to make it look neater, although it was a lost cause after the sweat and sand had mixed together and made his blonde hair stand up in unruly spikes. "Ist mir egal, so lange das kalt ist," the man commented and cleared his throat, trying to rub off some of the dirt from his cheek - he had spotted the women sitting in a table of German officers and he wanted to at least make an effort to look slightly presentable. Werner was ordering them drinks and Dieter rested his elbows over the counter, watching as the bartender slowly proceeded with fulfilling the order. The local man might have not been too well-versed in German, but he must have learned some basic phrases with all the German soldiers around.

Dieter crunched his knuckles nervously with his fingers, his eyes straying continuously towards the table with the exotic women. The German forces had been fighting almost continuously on the vast wastelands of Africa, always on the move, and occasions for rest and entertainment had seemed like very distant dreams to them. Dieter felt overwhelmed by the fact that they were free to spend their two days of leave as they wished and that they now found themselves here, waiting for their beers while these nimble little beauties fluttered their eyelashes at them. Well, they weren't really fluttering their eyelashes at Dieter and Werner, as the German officers certainly must have looked like more profitable targets, but that didn't stop Dieter from at least imagining that the ladies might have been gazing at them. The old, Arabic man returned with two bottles of beer, the brand of which Dieter could not recognize or for that fact, even read. Dieter curled his fingers around the bottle gingerly - the glass did not feel exceptionally cold to his touch, but definitely not very warm, either. This was a good sign and Dieter raised the bottle up triumphantly, flashing a wide grin at his friend. "Für die Frauen! Und für den Afrikakorps," the man was already ready to bump the beer bottle against the one Werner was holding, but then he suddenly withdrew it and furrowed his eyebrows. "Und für um Staub nicht essen zu müssen für seit den nächsten wenigen Tagen." Feeling more content with his drinking speech, the man bumped his bottle against the other one, enjoying a healthy swig of beer right after. He leaned his head to the other side and seemed thoughtful for a moment, but finally licked his lips, appearing rather content. "Das ist nicht schlecht," he commented, although he knew that just about any drink even slightly resembling beer would have tasted good to him right now.

His eyes travelled back to the table with the officers and their rather exotic, beautiful companions and Dieter sighed as he watched the woman clinging to the officer's necks. "Was denken Sie, Werner? Interessieren sich sie sogar für die allgemeinen Soldaten wie wir? Nicht, dass - So, ich meine, machte ich Unteroffizier, richtig? Es ist etwas! Aber noch. Unteroffizier ist kein Leutnant," Dieter said wistfully, tasting his beer again. "Sie machen mehr Geld als wir. Sie müssen an Hölle viel besser auch riechen," Dieter turned his attention back to Werner and laughed into his bottle as he tried to drink, remembering Werner's earlier quip. The man almost choked in his beer, but somehow managed to cough and laugh himself out of the situation, finally finding his ability to speak again. "Ich könnte jetzt... ich wirklich könnte eine Entspannung gut gebrauchen, ne?" The man raised his eyebrow as he stole a glance at the ladies once again.


Translations:

"Ist mir egal, so lange das kalt ist."
"I don't care, as long as it's cold."

"Für die Frauen! Und für den Afrikakorps."
"For the women! And for the Afrikakorps."

"Und für um Staub nicht essen zu müssen für seit den nächsten wenigen Tagen."
"And for not having to eat dust for the next few days."

"Das ist nicht schlecht."
"It's not bad."

"Was denken Sie, Werner? Interessieren sich sie sogar für die allgemeinen Soldaten wie wir? Nicht, dass - So, ich meine, machte ich Unteroffizier, richtig? Es ist etwas! Aber noch. Unteroffizier ist kein Leutnant."
"What do you think, Werner? Are they even interested in the common soldiers like us? Not that- Well, I mean, I made Unteroffizier, right? That's something! But still. Unteroffizier is no Leutnant."

"Sie machen mehr Geld als wir. Sie müssen an Hölle viel besser auch riechen."
"They make more money than us. They must smell hell of a lot better, too."

"Ich könnte jetzt... ich wirklich könnte eine Entspannung gut gebrauchen, ne?"
"Because, I could really... really use some relaxation, right?"

[Werner von Maybach]

After Werner had placed his orders, the old Arabian behind the bar immediately turned around and, although he wasn't moving all too fast, the bartender returned after some seconds, holding two golden- glancing bottles inside his hairy hands. The sign on the bottles showed a stylized eagle, that was heroically pouncing down on it's pray. Below the bird, a rather long word was written in black, Gothic print, but Werner could only assume that it may be Italian language and he wasn't even able to pronounce it correctly at all. But honestly, as long as their wasn't any acid- warning on the bottle and it's content's taste would only be a bit equal to the taste of beer, most of Werner's wanting would be immediately fulfilled for the moment. Finally, the bartender handed over the two beers to Afrika- Korps soldiers and surprisingly to Werner, the glass didn't feel as warm in his hand, as he had it suspected to be. Grinning, as he did since the two men had arrived back in a somehow civilized environment, Werner hold his beer up high towards Dieter besides him and expectantly awaited his friend to clink his bottle.

"Für die Frauen! Und für den Afrikakorps,", Dieter started bringing up a toast, adding after a few seconds: "Und für um Staub nicht essen zu müssen für seit den nächsten wenigen Tagen." After he had finished his short speech, the man zestfully knocked his bottle of beer against Werner's one, even causing a bit of foam swapping out of both of the bottles. Instantly after, both of the men took their bottles to their mouths, enjoying their beers in long, hasty gulps.

The cold, bitter liquid running down his spine felt so good and refreshing to Werner, it made him close his eyes in pure satisfaction for a short second. After a few moments of silence, Werner opened them again and slowly said: "Ja, da geh Ich absolut mit. Und natürlich auch auf unsere große Siegesparade in Berlin. Ich kanns kaum erwarten, Stolz wie Oskar am Adolf vorbeizumarschieren und Ihm dabei meine Deutsche Heldenbrust entgegenzustrecken." While saying that, Werner couldn't help himself but laughing in a rather sarcastically tone, as the situation during these last weeks at the frontline surely could make one think of anything except a big victory- parade. But now, he was sitting here in a bar, having a cold beer in front and a good friend aside him. Lost in his thoughts again, Werner only half realized about Dieter's comment regarding the, not all too bad quality of the beverage, the two men had just gotten served.

After another while, Werner realized that Dieter was glancing over to the table, were the officers had their evening- relaxation accompanied by those nice, exotic ladies every now and then. The females obviously seemed to have caught his interest and it wasn't actually hard for Werner to follow his friend's motives. As if Dieter would have guessed about Werner's last thoughts, he made a rather ironic comment regarding the chances, those two men would have with that type of women. After taking another, this time smaller gulp of his beer, Werner answered to the man sitting besides him: "Beim Kommiß is doch fast egal, welchen Rang genau du hast. Wenn einer mit genug Lammeta auf den Schultern um die Ecke kommt, kneift auch dein Leutnant die Arschbacken so schnell wie möglich zusammen. Aber besser als Schütze Arsch isses auf jeden Fall. Und mit dem gut riechen wirds bei dir am Ende ja doch nichts." When he had finished with his next, bad joke, Werner joined in the cheerful laughter of the other Unteroffizier, while taking out a box of cigarettes of the pocket of his desert tunic. Opening the small, red box with the etiquette reading "Overstolz", he first offered one of the cigarettes to Dieter, before he took out another one and inflamed it with his steel fuel- lighter.

Still watching this wonderful bottle of beer that stood on the table right in front of him, another, rather stupid joke flashed through Werner's mind. "He Dieter, pass ma auf, denn hat mir Oberfeld Kurtgens von der schweren Flak letztens erzählt. Woran kann man die Britische Luftwaffe erkennen? Die Flugzeuge schimmern leicht grünlich- bräunlich. Woran erkennt man die Amerikanische Luftwaffe? Die Flugzeuge schimmern deutlich silbern. Und woran erkennt man die Deutsche Luftwaffe? Das sind halt einfach keine Flugzeuge, nirgends was zu entdecken." Expectantly he smirked at Dieter now, awaiting another reaction from the German sitting next to him. But just before the other Unteroffizier could respond anyhow, some very loud and cheerful, Italian voices started singing a very heroically sounding song. The voices came from a big table in the very back of the establishment and instantly more guests joined in the rackety singing, absorbing any other sound in the cellar- bar after a very short while. "Battaglioni del Duce, Battaglioni! ..."

www.youtube.com/watch?v=I5ouvJjHBqk

But although Werner wasn't really able to even understand a single word of the cheerful, Italian song, it's more than glorious appearance just didn't fit to the image, those Italians had left to him by now. Instantly, the picture of a broken down, Italian tank entered his mind again, that Werner had seen only several days before. Strained the crewmen were working right in the terrible midday sun, trying to get their tank moving again. While his men did their repairs, an Italian officer walked from soldier to soldier, loudly screaming around and even kicking after them every now and then. Only a riding crop in the hand of the superior would have been missing, to complete that awful picture of the, nearly medieval state of things inside the Italian army. Leaning close toward Dieter, Werner loudly spoke to his friend, so that he would be able to understand something at all: "Na, singen wie die Helden können Sie ja, unsere Italienischen Kameraden. Aber mit Ihrer Ausrüstung und Ihrer, na ja, sage wir mal, suboptimalen Führung, können einem die armen Schweine wohl eher leid tun."

Translations:

"Ja, da geh Ich absolut mit. Und natürlich auch auf unsere ... ."
"Yes, I'm absolutely with you here. And for our big victory- parade in Berlin of course. I can't await to marsh in front of Adolf, holding out my German heroes'- breast as proud as a peacock."

"Beim Kommiß is doch fast egal, ... ."
"In the military, it almost doesn't matter, which rank you do exactly carry. There only needs to come someone around the corner, who is carrying enough gongs on his shoulders and even your Lieutenant is punching his buttocks as fast as possible. But being an Unteroffizier is way better than being private ass of course. And well, I guess smelling good is kind of unreachable for you anyway."

"He Dieter, pass ma auf, denn hat mir Oberfeld Kurtgens ... ."
"Hey Dieter, listen to that one, Oberfeld Kurtgens from the heavy AA- guns did tell me lastly. How can you easily recognize the Royal Air Force? The planes are lightly shimmering in a greenish- brownish color. How can you easily recognize the American Air Force? The planes are clearly shimmering in a silver color. And how can you easily recognize the German Luftwaffe? Well, there are just no planes, nothing to see anywhere."

"Na, singen wie die Helden können Sie ja, ... ."
"Well, our Italian comrades obviously seem to be able to sing like heroes. But with their equipment and their, well, let's say, suboptimal leadership, one should merely feel sorry for those poor bastards."

[Dieter "Iceman" Rentz]

Dieter tore his attention from the women currently entertaining the officers and nimbly picked up a cigarette from the case Werner was offering to him. Nevermind the fact that he already had an unlit cigarette stashed behind his ear - if free cigarettes were offered, he would never miss a chance to stock up on them. He hadn't always been such a heavy smoker, but these days it seemed to be the norm for him. If there was a pause in the action, he was smoking a cigarette... this of course in the case that he had not already ran out of them. The sandy-haired Unteroffizier searched for his lighter and shielded the flame purely out of habit, savoring the blissful feeling of the first wisps of smoke snaking inside his mouth. The man snorted at Werner's words about military ranks and promptly broke out in laughter after he heard his comment about his distinctive stench - absolutely not true, of course, but Dieter wasn't the type of guy who was easily offended. "Aah, der war gut!" the man's eyes narrowed under his sharp, distinctive eyebrows as he kept grinning. "Aber sehen Sie dieses Gesicht?" Dieter pointed at himself and raised one eyebrow, tilting his head. "Das Gesicht eines verdammten Engels," the man exclaimed proudly and his blue eyes skipped away from Werner when he spotted one of the skimpily clad ladies making her way towards them, though her gaze was really fixed on the table with the German officers.

Dieter turned half-way around in his seat, flashing the young woman the same confident smile as he had just demonstrated, apparently wanting to exhibit the positive effects of his angelic face in action. Instead of paying the German Unteroffizier any mind, the woman simply walked past him and the smile on Dieter's face died down slowly. "Ah, verdammt. Es ist gerade, weil sie nicht wirklich zusah, verstehst du? Gewöhnlich arbeitet es viel besser," the man assured his friend as he turned back to his beer, picking up the cigarette from his mouth so he could take a swig of his drink. His expression of disappointment lasted only for a while and with a crooked, content smile, Dieter poked the cigarette back in his mouth and motioned at the bartender, holding two fingers up and pointing at the bottles of beer to make sure he understood the message. They had not finished with their first beers yet, but Dieter had already decided that before the end of the night, he would be drunk as a skunk, singing Lili Marleen horribly off-key and giggling at his own, sorry state.

He fixed his attention on Werner again, leaning his elbow on the table and focusing on his cigarette as he listened to the other Unteroffizier's joke. A smile crept up to his lips in anticipation as the joke progressed and by the time Werner had reached the part where Luftwaffe involved, he was already grinning, blue eyes narrowed, the cigarette hanging loosely from between his lips. Once the man had gotten to the finale of his joke, Dieter burst out laughing in the way that was very characteristic for him - it was a mixture of a violent laugh and a strange, loud giggle. The very same laughter had certainly caught the attention of other people more than once, but it had become quite familiar to those who spent more time in his presence. He liked to joke around, play pranks and have fun, so the strange laugh of Unteroffizier Rentz had become a mundane sound to some of the soldiers in the 21st.

He would have commented on the joke, but the opportunity was stolen from him when the Italian soldiers chose to burst into a loud, cheerful song. The smile disappeared from the man's features and his mouth was left slightly agape, the cigarette hanging from his lower lip as Dieter frowned at the sudden disruption. A look of distaste was now evident on Unteroffizier Rentz's face and he leaned in closer when Werner addressed him - otherwise he would have not been able to hear what he was saying. When the other man commented on the shabby state of the Italian army, Dieter could only agree - he didn't like the Italians! He didn't like their language, their food or their manners and he certainly didn't like their stupids songs interfering with his perfectly good mood. Dieter removed the cigarette from his mouth so that he could answer Werner, but in his irritation his voice was slightly louder than he intended, although there should have been no real danger of the Italians hearing it over their own rambunctious singing.

"Verdammt richtig! Wer denken sie, dass sie sind, singend und so wichtig handelnd, wenn wir das ganze echte Kämpfen richtig tun? Haben Sie ihre Fahrzeuge gesehen, wie sie gerade das Brechen unterdrücken?" the man snorted and raised his eyebrows to emphasize his words. "Alles, wofür sie gut sind, singt jene verdammten schrecklichen Lieder und gehende 'Mamma Mia' und beschmutzt ihre Hose, wenn jemand nach ihnen schießt!" Dieter raised his voice even further as he spoke, failing to notice that the gaze of three Italian soldiers sitting in a table nearby had now fixed on him and one of the Italians even managed to note the openly disdainful look on the German Unteroffizier's face. The three Italian men had ceased from singing and were now getting up from the table, while Dieter leaned back in his seat, poking the cigarette back between his lips. He noticed something from the corner of his eyes and paid it only an absentminded glance first, before his mind registered the fact that the three uniformed Italians were now standing next to him, their faces sour and hostile. Dieter's gaze shot quickly at the men as the slow realization of his offensive words being overheard by the Italians started dawning to him. He might have been the relaxed and happy kind of guy, but he was often better at starting fights than actually avoiding them.

A challenging, mirthful look took over his features as he leaned both of his elbows on the table behind him while still regarding the Italians, waiting for them to throw the gauntlet. A rather large, olive-skinned soldier stared at the arrogant German, obviously ignoring Werner for now - they had no idea that the other man had been meting out some very unflattering things concerning their countrymen just earlier, too. "Hai qualcosa da dire, Fritz?" the hulking Italian asked gravely, although Dieter could only understand the last word and it made him frown with irritation. Very slowly and assuredly, the German straightened his back and stared at the three soldiers, derisive laughter in his eyes. The situation had suddenly turned quite flammable and Dieter had completely forgotten about the German officers, the women and even about the cold beer he had been dreaming of for such a long time. He would show these greasy Italian bastards their worth.


Translations:

"Aah, der war gut!"
"Aah, that's a good one!"

"Aber sehen Sie dieses Gesicht? Das Gesicht eines verdammten Engels."
"But you see this face? The face of a damn angel."

"Ah, verdammt. Es ist gerade, weil sie nicht wirklich zusah, verstehst du? Gewöhnlich arbeitet es viel besser."
"Ah, dammit. That's just because she wasn't really watching, you know? Usually it works much better."

"Verdammt richtig! Wer denken sie, dass sie sind, singend und so wichtig handelnd, wenn wir das ganze echte Kämpfen richtig tun? Haben Sie ihre Fahrzeuge gesehen, wie sie gerade das Brechen unterdrücken?"
"Damn right! Who do they think they are, singing and acting so important when we are doing all the real fighting, right? Have you seen their vehicles, how they just keep breaking down?"

"Alles, wofür sie gut sind, singt jene verdammten schrecklichen Lieder und gehende 'Mamma Mia' und beschmutzt ihre Hose, wenn jemand nach ihnen schießt!"
"All they are good for is singing those damn awful songs and going 'Mamma Mia' and soiling their pants when someone shoots at them!"

"Hai qualcosa da dire, Fritz?"
"Did you have something to say, Fritz?"

[Werner von Maybach]

Looking at his friend after he had finished his words, it appeared to Werner as if the loud, Italian singing did disguise Dieter a lot more than it actually did himself. The Italians were known for their southerly, rather boastful behavior and so Werner actually couldn't take neither those men nor the songs, they were singing, all too serious. But Dieter's face, that had shown such a smiling and happy expression just seconds before, had now turned into appearing pale and hard. His eyes had become small slits, rotatory watching the singing Italians and Werner sitting besides him. In a rather serious tone, Dieter answered to Werner's words, expressing his very own dislike of the whole situation. Obviously to Werner, the comrade besides him did feel pretty stressed at this moment.

The three Italian soldiers, who were sitting at a table directly nearby the long counter, had caught Werner's eyes right in the moment when he had entered this cellar establishment together with Dieter. All of them were rather robustly built and these men didn't appear like inspiring a lot of confidence to the German. The Italians had cheerfully played a game of cards until the heroically song had started to sound through the large bar, which they quiet immediately joined in singing. Only one of them wasn't busy singing by his whole heart, instead of that, he used to continuously scan around the bar with his eyes, apparently realizing about Dieter's unfriendly comments. But just before Werner could try to somehow advice his friend to one of the Italian soldiers monitoring him, Dieter managed to make things a lot worse, by addressing another, even louder and nastier phrase to the man, who was sitting on the barstool next to him. While he spoke, either Dieter still absolutely hadn't noticed about drawing the attention of a whole table of Italian soldiers or the long- awaited beer had made him already not caring anymore after the very first bottle. He still grinned at Werner, taking an enjoyed haul from his cigarette every now and then.

Immediately, the one Italian, who still was observing Dieter, signaled his friends to stop singing. He said something addressed to the other men sitting around the nearby table and it seemed to Werner, as if he even was pointing his arm into the direction, where the two Germans sat at the barcounter. Simultaneously, the three men stood up and slowly started walking towards the counter. Although none of the Italians were small, one of them had a nearly gigantic stature, being about one whole head larger than the others. Now the tall man placed himself right in front of Dieter, wearing a rather hard and aggressive expression inside his face. "Hai qualcosa da dire, Fritz?"

The deep, aggressive sounding voice of the Italian soldier clanged through the establishment. Werner wasn't actually able to understand anything of what this sinister looking Italian had just said at all, except one short phrase, Fritz. And the usage of this phrase caused him to inevitably grin at the man in front of Dieter. The three Italians were still kind of ignoring Werner, now slowly starting to surround Dieter, who still relaxed sat on his stool. Carefully scanning the three southerners, Werner also got up his stool, trying to make his shoulders appear as broad as possible. The tallest of the Italians had now realized about Werner walking towards him, turned around and appraisingly looked at the German. The man really was built like a bear and now Werner could discover a collection of several, Italian army medals at the uniform of the Italian. Von Maybach had a quiet muscular stature by himself, but was by far not the tallest man, what made him even appear a bit bulky to some. But now, he had to uncomfortably look up to the Italian standing in front of him, when he loudly raised his deep, guttural voice: "Camerata.", Werner started because he actually didn't know any more Italian words. "Setzt euch besser wieder hin und singt weiter eure albernen Lieder."

Although Werner had tried to appear as confident as possible while speaking, he had strained his muscles for a very short moment, because he nearly did expect an Italian fist flying towards his face in the very next seconds. But nothing used to happen for now. The tall Italian still used to expectantly observe the two Germans, answering Werner's view with an angry staring. The air in the small bar had gotten thick enough now, one could even cut slices out of it. In the corner of his eyes, Werner realized one of the German officers, whose attention the small confrontation also had caught. When the CO slowly came closer, Werner got able to recognize him as a Hauptmann, wearing the lemon yellow collar tabs of the signal corps.

After giving a slight cough to catch the attention of all the soldiers, he relaxed started to speak in surprisingly fluid Italian: "I gentiluomini, soddisfacciamo tutta la calma giù per il momento. Sono sicuro che tutto è appena un piccolo malinteso, che sarà facilmente risolto. Lasciarmi paga un rotondo o due ed appena dimenticare di quel piccolo episodio."

Obviously, the Hauptmann had just hit exactly the right nerve, as the expression in the face of the large Italian soldier used to change within only a few seconds. The promised round of beers apparently was exactly after the man's taste. Again, Werner hadn't understood a single word, but seemingly, the officer had managed to calm the situation down a bit for the moment. "Und von euch trostlosen Gestalten erwarte Ich wenigstens ein bißchen mehr Anstand und Benehmen gegenüber unseren Italienischen Waffenbrüdern." While he spoke his last sentence to the two other Germans, the Hauptmann smirked all over his face, obviously at least a bit proud of his diplomatic solution of the situation. Signaling the Arabic bartender to issue a round of beers to the Italians, the Hauptmann turned around and hurried getting back to the company at the officer's table. The three Italians had also returned to their small table for the moment, still continuing to flash angry views towards Dieter and Werner every now and than.

Translations:

"Camerata."
"Comrade"

"Setzt euch besser wieder hin und singt weiter eure albernen Lieder."
"You better sit down again and continue to sing your absurd songs."

"I gentiluomini, soddisfacciamo tutta la calma giù per il momento. ..."
"Gentlemen, let's please all calm down for the moment. I'm sure everything is just a small misunderstanding, that's easily going to get solved. Let me pay for a round or two and just forget about that tiny incident."

"Und von euch trostlosen Gestalten erwarte Ich ... ."
"And from you inconsolable figures, I'm awaiting at least a hint of decency and manners adverse our Italian brothers in arms."

[Dieter "Iceman" Rentz]

The three men towered forebodingly in front of the Germans, their faces hard masks of stone as they stared their new adversaries down. By now it appeared as if a fight was more inevitable if anything and the air around them seemed to stand still. After Werner got up from his seat, Dieter followed his example, cigarette now clenched between his teeth. He liked to think that he looked intimidating, but he wasn't really the tallest guy of the bunch and much depended purely on his attitude. Being teased about his height was one of the rare things that made the usually relaxed man angry very quickly and he didn't forgive such jests very easily. That was why he usually acted as if he was just as tall as the next guy, even when he now had to crane his neck back in order to stare the hulking Italian in the eyes. Dieter felt how his muscles readied themselves for a fight, even though the rational part of his mind was telling him that with a brute like the one that was standing in front of him right now, they didn't really have very good chances of winning the fight.

He had been talented in getting in trouble already from a very young age and he had always found a way of getting into fights and causing whatever mischief he could back in Meissen. He had settled down from those days, but was still very easily pushed into doing stupid things. If someone presented him with a dare, he would blindly rush at the challenge, just to prove others that he wasn't a coward. It hadn't been very long ago when Dieter had eaten a live scorpion when another Unteroffizier had told him that there was no way he would manage to do it. He had won the bet, of course, and received the hefty sum of ten cigarettes for it, but had also suffered from severe stomach cramps for two days after. Another recent bet had seen him sitting on the sun-scorched metal of a tank for at least a minute on his bare ass. Needless to say, it had not ended very well and the aftereffects of that particular bet still made Dieter cringe with displeasure. Well, he certainly wouldn't be doing that again.

Right now he was about to embark on yet another one of his stupid escapades and he was fully meaning to punch the big oaf of an Italian straight in his ugly face the moment he would open his mouth to say something insulting. Even in his current state Dieter managed to feel somewhat guilty for the fact that he had dragged his friend into the mess with him, although he was also certain that Werner would fight beside him even if the worst would come to pass. They had been in more dangerous situations out on the battlefield together and trust like that wasn't broken easily. Dieter's blood was boiling in anticipation of the fight and he only barely managed to register the fact that Werner was saying something to the Italians - maybe he wasn't quite as eager to get into a fight as Dieter was. Offensive words were already waiting on Dieter's tongue, when a new voice stopped him. His blue eyes darted to the side, almost expecting a fresh danger, but he stood up straighter on an instinct when his eyes fell upon the collar tabs of a German Hauptmann. Stupidly enough, he had not even considered the fact that a bunch of German officers were sitting in a table in the same room and inside his thoughts and Dieter grimaced when he expected for the man to snap at them.

Instead of really noticing them, he addressed the Italians in their own language, saying things that Dieter of course couldn't understand, but it seemed to have a calming effect on the other men. Dieter's eyes skipped from the Hauptmann to the Italians and the muscles on his arms relaxed when their adversaries slowly turned away, returning to their table and discussing the situation in low voices as soon as they sat down. The Hauptmann regarded the two Unteroffiziers for a while and told them to show at least some manners towards their Italian comrades. Anger clenched Dieter's guts at the remark, but he nodded stiffly and acknowledged the officer's words with a steady 'Herr Hauptmann', his eyes burning with cold anger when the officer turned around to rejoin his happy entourage. The Unteroffizier glanced at the Italians once more, but sat back on his seat with an irritated huff. "Scheiße!" the man growled under his breath, grabbing his beer and downing the rest of it in one swig, just to calm himself down. "Wie ist es unsere Schuld diese südlichen Idioten können nicht ihre Temperament enthalten?" Dieter muttered, disregarding the fact that he had been more than ready to trade some punches himself. The man raised his eyebrows as he glanced Werner, stumping the cigarette angrily in an ash tray. At least the beer seemed to settle his mood somewhat and the severe scowl on his features softened as the taste of the cool drink still lingered in his mouth. The bartender had already brought them two fresh bottles of beer while their attention had been occupied by the Italians and Dieter slammed the empty bottle down, curling his fingers around the new one.

He drank deeply from the bottle, tilting his head back and giving himself more time to simmer down. Finally he groaned and glanced towards the table with the officers, shaking his head slightly. "Vielleicht ist das besser, dennoch. Hätte am wahrscheinlichsten diesen kompletten Tisch gehabt, der uns Ärger bereiten," the man commented, turning his attention back to his friend. "Außerdem, wenn jene Makkaroni noch einen Kampf später am Abend wollen, können wir es draußen setzen, stimmt das?" The thought seemed to make Dieter feel slightly better and the more familiar grin appeared on his features slowly, the worst brunt of his irritation having already dissolved. It wasn't very like him to get too pissed off and when it happened, it usually lasted only for a moment before he was back to his grinning and joking self.

While the Germans were enjoying their drinks once again, the old bartender moved to the other end of the counter, addressing one of the exotic girls who was currently carrying three empty bottles in her fingers. The woman nodded at the man's words, laid the empty bottles down on the table and circled around the counter, her hips swaying seductively the moment she knew she had the attention of the two Germans. The bartender had observed the flammable situation and figured that a woman might calm down the worst flames of rage and keep his paying customers happy - something that Dieter was, of course, completely oblivious to, since he only figured that his "angelic face" had finally managed to capture the attention of the ladies.

Still holding the bottle of beer in his hand, Dieter blinked and stared at the dark-haired woman in silence, but his expression of surprise soon turned into a lopsided, self-assured smirk. He swerved around in his chair and the smirk transformed further, now forming into a wide grin when the woman laid a hand down on his shoulder and the other one on Werner's. "So... Hallöchen," Dieter greeted the woman courteously, all vengeful thoughts concerning the Italians already completely forgotten. "Ich nehme nicht an, dass Sie Deutsch sprechen? So, es ist nicht wirklich von Bedeutung. Ich spreche die Sprache der Liebe, und es ist die einzige Sprache, die wir dabei sind zu brauchen. Sieh hier. Ich... Die-terrr. Und hier ist mein guter Freund... Wer-ner. Ja, dieser Kerl genau hier," the man pointed a finger at Werner, taking good care of pronouncing each word as clearly as possible. The woman giggled at the words, much as she was expected to behave by the patrons and she removed her hand from Dieter's shoulder to point at herself. "Sa-diah," she pronounced her name slowly in an effort to imitate the way the German had just introduced both himself and his friend with. Dieter laughed almost too loudly at the woman's little joke and the laughter still lingered in his blue eyes when he nodded. "Oh, solch ein hübscher Name für eine hübsche Dame," he grinned at his own overly saccharine words and beamed with open joy when the woman rested her hand on his shoulder once again.

The man raised an eyebrow as he glanced at Werner and then at the exotic little beauty who suddenly seemed more than happy to give them her undivided attention. Dieter nodded towards the other Unteroffizier and prodded the woman towards his friend. "Bitte, unterhalten Sie Werner ein kleines bisschen. Er sieht nur wenig gelangweilt aus," Dieter suggested graciously and whether the woman really understood the German words or not, she moved towards Werner, obviously trying to settle into sitting in his lap. "Geh voran, Werner. Seien Sie freundlich zu kleine... Sa... Was für ihr Name war. Oder haben Sie vielleicht eine ziemlich kleine Dame, die auf Sie zurück nachhause wartet? Obwohl, wen kümmerts? Haben Sie etwas Spaß, lebend ein wenig!"


Translations:

"Wie ist es unsere Schuld diese südlichen Idioten können nicht ihre Temperament enthalten?"
"Like it's our fault these southern idiots can't contain their tempers?"

"Vielleicht ist das besser, dennoch. Hätte am wahrscheinlichsten diesen kompletten Tisch gehabt, der uns Ärger bereiten."
"Maybe it's better, though. Would have most likely had that entire table breathing down our necks."

"Außerdem, wenn jene Makkaroni noch einen Kampf später am Abend wollen, können wir es draußen setzen, stimmt das?"
"Besides, if those macaronis still want a fight later in the evening, we can settle it outside, can't we?"

"So... Hallöchen."
"Well, hello there."

"Ich nehme nicht an, dass Sie Deutsch sprechen? So, es ist nicht wirklich von Bedeutung.."
"I don't suppose you speak German? Well, it doesn't really matter. I speak the language of love and that's the only language we are going to need. See here. Me... Die-terrr. And here is my good friend... Wer-ner. Yes, this guy right here."

"Oh, solch ein hübscher Name für eine hübsche Dame."
"Oh, such a pretty name for a pretty lady."

"Bitte, unterhalten Sie Werner ein kleines bisschen. Er sieht nur wenig gelangweilt aus."
"Go on, why don't you entertain Werner a little bit. He is looking a bit bored."

"Geh voran, Werner. Seien Sie freundlich zu kleine... Sa... Was für ihr Name war..."
"Come on, Werner. Be nice to little... Sa... Whatever her name was. You don't have some pretty little lady waiting for you back home, now do you? Although, who cares, right? Have some fun, live a little!"

[Werner von Maybach]

"Scheiße!", Dieter turned towards the German besides him in a rather hushed voice and after a short break, he continued agitating about the happenings of these last five minutes. The man's head had brushed red in commotion and his eyes were widely opened, when the Unteroffizier finally turned his attention back to the cold beverage, that still stood right on the counter in front of him. While Dieter slowly grabbed for his bottle again, Werner already had emptied his first beer in one long, obviously satisfying gulp. When he placed the blank bottle back on the bar counter, Werner suddenly felt some air forcefully pushing on his stomach. With a fast view through the big cellar room the man used to assure himself of not having any females all too close nearby, before the Unteroffizier raised his fist to cover his mouth a bit and released an appreciative, surprisingly loud burp. Right after, Werner grimaced his face at his friend besides him and immediately added: "Hey, alles muß raus, was keine Miete zahlt."

On his tongue, Werner could feel the bitter, sparkling taste of the Italian beer and because of the hot temperature in the cellar, the alcohol went to his head even faster than the man had expected. His vision started to get slightly blurry and he felt some strange zest for action raising inside himself. But nevertheless, this couldn't keep the German from instantly grabbing the next, full bottle, which was already waiting in front of him. Holding his bottle high towards the man sitting besides him, he loudly started bringing out the next, cheerful toast: "Also dann, auf den großen, dicken Benito. Ihm haben wirs schließlich zu verdanken, daß wir die unglaubliche Schönheit Afrikas kennenlernen durften." Shortly snorting about the irony of his last words, Werner slowly lifted the next bottle of beer to his lips.

The situation in the cellar bar used to cool down more and more with every moment now. The bunch of Italian soldiers was completely lost in the game of cards again and Dieter's facial features also had tangible lightened up again. Obviously, the man besides Werner seemed to have found back to his former, holiday- mood quite fast. "Außerdem, wenn jene Makkaroni noch einen Kampf später am Abend wollen, können wir es draußen setzen, stimmt das?", he grinningly addressed to Werner, trying to somehow make a point for himself. Instantly, Werner replied: "So ist es. Zum Glück für die Spaghettifresser hat sich dieser Hauptmann hier noch eingemischt. Sonst hätten wir zwei doch den Boden mit denen aufgewischt." While speaking, he couldn't avoid grinning all over his face, as his words obviously weren't meant all too true. Throwing a short view over to the Hauptmann, Werner slightly shook his head and continued his words: "Und überhaupt, was bildet der sich eigentlich ein? Der Pimpf sieht doch aus, als hätt er noch nie ein Deckungsloch von innen gesehen. Die Frontlinie kennt der doch nur aus seinen Funksprüchen."

Lurking over to his friend, Werner realized, that he had already lost the attention of the man besides him. With a wide grin, that was nearly reaching from one ear to the other, Dieter had fixed his eyes on one of the dark skinned, airy dressed waitresses. The girl was slowly moving into the direction of the two German NCOs and quite surprisingly to Werner, she didn't just pass by the two men, but stopped right behind their backs. Immediately, Dieter turned around on his barstool and addressed some short words at the exotic beauty, trying to introduce himself and his friend besides him. He ended with asking for the name of the unknown female, expectantly waiting for an answer by the young girl.

Before answering to Dieter's question, the beauty wandered her right finger playfully through her black, shimmering hair. It actually took her some moments, until she appeared like having understood and gave her name to the two German soldiers, trying to speak as slow as possible to make the two foreigners at least somehow understand. "Sa-diah." Her tongue hushed over her lips while speaking, releasing a row of rather long, diamond- white incisors. "Oh, solch ein hübscher Name für eine hübsche Dame.", Dieter winking replied to the waitress, trying to speak in a voice as sweet as honey. Right after, the man nodded his head towards his friend and quite surprisingly to Werner, he started to prod the woman toward the other German soldier. Hesitating in disbelief for a single moment, Werner finally understood and carefully slung one of his arms around the thin hip of the dark skinned female, slowly pulling her a bit closer. Without showing any signs of resistance at all, Sadiah now used to carefully sit down right on the soldiers lap. "Hallelujah, es gibt hier in Afrika also doch einen Gott oder zumindest sowas ähnliches." The Italian soldiers at the table nearby had already lost any relevance to Werner right now.

Even through the clothes of his desert tunic, the touch of the woman's warm body on his lap felt all too pleasing to the young German NCO. The exotic smell of her skin crawled into his nostrils, something that the soldier had missed out all too long. His view was fixed at Sadiah's face, trying to explore her deep, brown eyes. Instantly, Werner's head brushed red, when he realized that she could most probably feel his growing excitement about the whole situation. In an attempt to calm himself down a little, the man grabbed his beer again and swallowed down the last gulps inside his second bottle. After placing the bottle on the bar counter again, he turned to Dieter and smilingly said: "So, ich wär ja soweit versorgt, wie stehts denn jetzt mit dir? Bring doch dein Engelsgesicht nochmal zum Einsatz und zieh für dich auch so nen Fisch an Land." While he spoke, a rather satisfied grin grew on the face of the German Unteroffizier. After he had finished his words, Sadiah threw a short glance at Dieter, smiled at both of the men and vastly jumped off Werner's lap. "Ich, zurück, soon.", the young girl said before disappearing behind one of the heavy, wooden doors, leading into the back rooms of the cellar establishment.

Translations:

"Hey, alles muß raus, was keine Miete zahlt."
"Hey, out with anything, what isn't paying a rent."

"Also dann, auf den großen, dicken Benito. ..."
"Then, for the big, round Benito. Because in the end it's due to him, that we got to discover the unbelievable beauty of Africa."

"So ist es. Zum Glück für die Spaghettifresser ... ."
"That's it. It was a huge luck for those Eyeties, that our Hauptmann used to interfere at all. Otherwise, we would have swept the floor with these guys."

"Und überhaupt, was bildet der sich eigentlich ein? ..."
"And generally, what does this guy fancy to be? This Pimpf looks like he has never seen a foxhole from inside. I'm quite sure, he only knows about the frontline from his radio- messages."

"Hallelujah, es gibt hier in Afrika also doch einen Gott ... ."
"Hallelujah, so after all, there does a god exist here in Africa. Or at least something similar."

"So, ich wär ja soweit versorgt, wie stehts denn jetzt mit dir? ..."
"Well, I'm supplied for now, but what about you? Maybe, just try and bring your angels- face into effect once more, to also land a fish like that for yourself."

"Ich, zurück, soon."
"I, back, soon."

[Dieter "Iceman" Rentz]

Having not enjoyed the luxury of consuming alcohol for a good while, the beer was going into Dieter's head quickly and almost whatever Werner now said caused the man to succumb into a fit of laughter and he would have fallen from his seat had he not been grabbing the edge of the table. Whenever the man managed to stop laughing to drink his beer, he soon fell victim to another laugh attack and hence, had great troubles consuming his drink. His laughter was finally reduced to constant, mad grinning once he had the attention of the exotic girl and after he had very gracefully pushed the woman towards Werner, he felt a twinge of brief envy. Still, the grin soon returned and Dieter only nodded at Werner and his freshly acquired female friend. "So, Ich bin mir nicht sicher, wenn Gott in Afrika besteht, aber auch eine blinde Henne findet mal ein Korn.. Ich glaube, Sie haben Glück," Dieter smirked, raising the bottle of beer to his lips and enjoying a healthy gulp of the cool drink. The girl, her name already having been forgotten by Unteroffizier Rentz, was now happily sitting in the other man's lap and Werner appeared slightly flustered, quickly occupying himself with drinking his beer.

Dieter's eyes were fixated on the exotic female and his eyes skipped back to Werner when the man addressed him, courteously asking after his friend's well-being, suggesting that Dieter should use his previously advertised "angel face" to lure in a female companion of his own. The man just shrugged and smirked. "Machen Sie sich um mich keine Sorgen, die Nacht ist noch jung, das Bier ist kalt, und die Frauen sind heiß," the young Unteroffizier assured his friend, gesturing around the room with his hand as he spoke. "Ich denke, dass Sie gerade gehen und sich amüsieren sollten... wenn du weißt, was ich meine, eh? the man arched an eyebrow and laughed coarsely to further emphasize his words. "Geh, geh... Los! Verzieh dich!" Dieter waved his hand, and despite his words, he grinned continuously and released a low sigh only after Werner and the woman had taken their leave, the girl leading the Unteroffizier towards the back rooms. "Ja ist das, was Sie bekommen, um zu großzügig zu sein, nicht...?" Dieter commented in a low voice, gulping down the rest of his beer in one, long swig. Raising a finger at the bartender, Dieter settled into waiting for his new drink and as he did so, he carefully surveyed his surroundings. All of the ladies seemed quite occupied by their current company and the woman he had spotted singing just earlier, had by now vanished somewhere, making the German frown with dislike. Just a few hours ago enjoying one cold beer would have filled him with bliss, but as was common with human nature, once he had his beer, he needed another one and after the third bottle he needed more things to keep himself in a jovial mood.

The man grasped the fresh bottle from the counter and drank it down, figuring that if he was drunk enough, he simply wouldn't care. He settled into enjoying his beverage, ordering a new one as soon as the bottle was empty and lazily picking up the cigarette from behind his ear. The man lit it with a small frown, forming a small "o" with his mouth and watching as wisps of smoke, now formed into a distinct shape of a circle, drifted away from him and soon dissipated. At first he was intrigued by the scene, but then the man frowned. Was this the best he could find as an entertainment once he finally had his leave? With a low growl, Dieter stumbled from his chair and eyed the bartender. "He, Sie. Ja, Sie. Schützen Sie mein Bier, ja? Ich bin gerade dabei, das Zimmer des kleinen Unteroffizier zu besuchen.., oder sowas. Wenn mein Freund inzwischen zurückkommt, erzählen Sie ihm das. Verstanden? Ja, gut. Gut..." the cigarette bounced up and down between the man's lips as he spoke, while the bartender merely stared at him, having really not understood the German's words and he kept polishing a glass when Dieter just rotated around for a while, trying to remember where the entrance was.

When the man had finally found his way outside, the sun had already started setting, painting the sky with various shades of deep red and bright yellow. It would have been a beautiful sight to behold, but Dieter was feeling increasingly buzzed as he made his way away from the underground establishment, trying to find a decent spot to relieve himself. The man turned his back towards the bar and thought how courteous it was of him to bring some rain into the middle of a desert and Dieter arched an eyebrow at his own sentiment. "He, vielleicht werden einige Blumen hier wachsen," the man remarked out loud and immediately chuckled at his own words as, even in his current drunken state, he realized how ridiculous they were. The man pushed his other hand against the wall to keep himself steady and after he had finished with the procedure, he turned around, just to face a group of three men, all of them Italian, and all of them alarmingly familiar. The large man towered in the middle, flanked by two other Italian soldiers and Dieter snatched the cigarette from his mouth, pointing it towards them. "Ah, ist es Mario und seine kleinen Freunde!" the German remarked and tilted his head to the side. "Und Sie sehen noch hässlicher hier im Tageslicht aus. Wer hätte es sich träumen lassen, dass solch ein Ding sogar möglich, nicht?" the man released a small, mirthful chuckle, not fully realizing the ever darkening and increasingly hostile expressions on the other men's faces.

Even if the meaning of the sharp words was lost to the Italians, they could easily distinguish the mocking tone in which they were presented in and before Dieter even realized what was happening, he had been grabbed by his shoulders and sent pivoting towards the nearest wall. The man collided with the stone surface forcefully, but managed to stay up on his feet long enough to stumble a few steps back, before he finally came tumbling down on the sand. The three Italians erupted into loud laughter as they watched Dieter crawling around in the dust as the man tried to get back to his feet, even when his entire world was suddenly spinning and he had trouble discerning up from down. When he finally managed to crawl up, he held a hand over his forehead and grimaced at the pain. His blue eyes tried to focus on his opposition and for a while he wondered how the three other Italians had managed to approach him so sneakily, before he realized he was merely seeing double.

"Oh... Sie dachten, dass komisch war, nicht wahr?" Dieter asked, although he felt anything but confident about winning the fight. Yet, he raised his fists in front of him, swaying around on his two unsteady feet, sandy hair standing up and dust clinging to his skin. "Sie leg dich nicht mit 21. Panzer an," Dieter exclaimed proudly, but his words only made the three Italian men laugh again and the man towering over his friends cracked his knuckles in response.


Translations:

"So, Ich bin mir nicht sicher, wenn Gott in Afrika besteht, aber auch eine blinde Henne findet mal ein Korn.. Ich glaube, Sie haben Glück."
"Well, I'm not sure if God exists in Africa, but every dog has his day. I guess you got lucky."

"Machen Sie sich um mich keine Sorgen, die Nacht ist noch jung, das Bier ist kalt, und die Frauen sind heiß."
"Don't worry about me, the night is still young, the beer is cold and the women are hot."

"Ich denke, dass Sie gerade gehen und sich amüsieren sollten... wenn du weißt, was ich meine, eh?
"I think you should just go and enjoy yourself... if you know what I mean, eh?"

"Geh, geh... Los! Verzieh dich!"
"Go, go... Go on! Get the hell out of here!"

"Ja ist das, was Sie bekommen, um zu großzügig zu sein, nicht...?"
"Yeah, this is what you get for being too generous, don't you...?"

"He, Sie. Ja, Sie. Schützen Sie mein Bier, ja? Ich bin gerade dabei, das Zimmer des kleinen Unteroffizier zu besuchen.., oder sowas. Wenn mein Freund inzwischen zurückkommt, erzählen Sie ihm das. Verstanden? Ja, gut. Gut ..."
"Hey, you. Yes, you. Watch out for my beer, ok? I'm just going to visit the little Unteroffizier's room.. Or something. If my friend comes back in the meanwhile, just tell him that. Understood? Yes, good. Good..."

"He, vielleicht werden einige Blumen hier wachsen."
"Hey, maybe some flowers will grow here."

"Ah, ist es Mario und seine kleinen Freunde! Und Sie sehen noch hässlicher hier im Tageslicht aus. Wer hätte es sich träumen lassen, dass solch ein Ding sogar möglich, nicht?"
"Ah, it's Mario and his little friends! And you look even uglier here in the daylight. Who would have figured such a thing is even possible, right?"

"Oh... Sie dachten, dass komisch war, nicht wahr?"
"Oh... You think that was funny, don't you?"

"Sie leg dich nicht mit 21. Panzer an."
"You don't mess with the 21st Panzer."