Konrad Feldpetzer

November 4th, 1943

Somewhere in Picardie, Northern France

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It was cold. In retrospect, I don’t know why I didn’t expect low temperatures in the winter. I’d spent so long underground in the partisan base that I seemed to have forgotten that seasons were a thing. Only Wolfram and Reuben had been wearing coats before the attack, with Niko and I just in our shirts which didn’t offer much protection against the cold. Thankfully, it wasn’t nearly as bad in the truck as it was outside it.

We’d been traveling in silence for a while now. I’d managed to get the hang of this whole driving thing to the point where I could competently stay in a lane.

Plus, I didn’t have to contend with much traffic at all since we kept to backroads. Made it much easier with my busted arm, too.

Wolfram had even grown confident enough that I wouldn’t drive into a half-frozen river to fall asleep in the passenger seat, with Niko quietly working on Rueben’s wounds.

I can’t say I was fond of the quiet, though. It felt like I was caught in a perpetual loop, where my mind would drift back to the partisans, both dead and alive. How Annette was still unaccounted for, having to go god knows where. It wasn’t even a guarantee that she was alive.

I had to manually get it back on track or wait for a rogue strike of pain from my arm. It’s not like there was much to distract myself out the window, either. It was all leafless forests and maybe some hills if there wasn’t just flat yet empty farmland in its stead.

Maybe I would’ve found the landscape charming and relaxing some other time, but now it only served as an emtpy stage on which my memories forcefully attempted to play out.

“Yes!” I swerved the car at Niko’s shout, nearly making it careen off the edge of the road and into an icy creek. I pulled a hard left, trying to get the vehicle back onto the route and slamming Wolfram’s face into window in the process.

We came to a screeching halt, the car now resting in the middle of the road.

“Don’t fucking do that!” I exclaimed, turning back to Niko.

The man simply gave a somewhat dizzy nod. My gaze turned to Wolfram. His face was scrunched up in pain as he rubbed his nose, rapidly turned red.

I tried asking him, “Are you o-”

“Give me a second!” Wolfram replied, his voice strained as he cut me off.

We both awkwardly stared at the socialist for a moment before he inhaled, his face losing its tension for the most part.

“The fascists should employ that as a torture technique,” the man mumbled, sorely rubbing where he’d been slammed, “I think I broke my nose.”

“We’ll have to make sure,” Niko grunted, “Konrad, don’t you have medical experience?”

I winced, “Yeah, but most of that was for bullet wounds and infections. I can’t remember anything about broken noses.”

“Shit. Then I’ll have to check. Konrad, can you find a place hidden from the road to pull over for a moment?”

I nodded, starting up the car again and taking great care to not cause any more chaos.

“So why’d you even shout in the first place?” I asked.

Wolfram groaned, his voice strained, “That’s why you attempted a circus stunt with the vehicle?”

“Niko startled me. You don’t just shout when everything’s silent and expect to not surprise the driver,” I frowned.

“I shouted because I managed to sew up and clean Reuben’s wound. He’ll live now. I’m certain of it.”

We paused when Wolfram’s barely audible whines punctured the short conversation.

“Right, sorry,” I returned my eyes on the road.

Niko hummed behind us, “Preferably find it fast. The communard’s nose will probably swell up soon and it’s harder to tell then.”

“Why don’t I simply go in the back with you for a moment?” Wolfram’s now nasally voice sounded out. I winced at the noise; it sounded rather uncomfortable.

“Between me, Reuben, and the supplies there’s not much room as it is.”

“There!” I softly exclaimed, seeing a small area where I could drive the car off road behind a string of bushes and trees. While they were all leafless, the dense branches offered a good amount of cover.

“Good enough,” Niko grunted.

I turned the truck, and we most definitely felt it when we got off the road. It took some effort, but thankfully none of us slammed our heads on the ceiling while I drove down it.

I even managed to park relatively well while seeing double.

“I didn’t know they landmined random roads,” Wolfram grumbled as he roughly stepped out of the passenger seat, still clasping his nose.

Niko got out too, and I followed suit, wincing at the abrupt flow of cold air in my face. The man moved over to Wolfram, “Move your hands. I can’t see if you’re grabbing at it like someone else’s money.”

As Niko examined the poor communard’s nose, I took a minute to try to relax. I’d been driving for close to a few hours now, and we hadn’t dared stop before. With some distance put between us and Paris, I finally felt safe taking a moment to breathe.

I sat down on the grass, leaning against the truck as I propped up my hand on my knee.

The road had been situated atop a small hill, meaning I had a slight vantage point over the surrounding landscape. A small lake, with only a thin layer of frost forming on the edges, was in front of me, bordered on one side by forest and the other by an empty farm field. I could clearly see the reflection of the sky and clouds in its waters.

It was only then that I realized how thirsty I was. And hungry.

I had only eaten a few spoons’ worth of peas in the past day, and hadn’t even drank any water. I wasn’t in any position to skimp on food, either, since I’d been forgetting to eat repeatedly for the past few months.

“Alright, good news: your nose isn’t broken. Just sore,” Niko’s voice brought me out of my thoughts.

“Thank the sickle!”

“…that’s a weird way to say thank God.”

“There is no God, only man.”

A small lull of silence.

“…good talk! Now get in the car.”

I stood up, trying to ignore the now-conspicuous feeling of an empty stomach. Sparing the landscape one more glance, I opened the car door.

“So where are we headed again?” I asked, sliding in behind the wheel and rubbing my hands together to try to generate some heat..

The mechanic gave me a curious glance, “Why are you driving again?

“It’s fun,” I shrugged. A half-truth. It was fun, to a degree, but I was more apprehensive of the depths my mind would go to if I had nothing to busy myself with.

“Chaseaux. We’re going to Chaseaux,” Wolfram replied as he sat in the passenger seat, cutting off Niko’s questioning.

“Which is where, exactly?” I glanced at him.

Wolfram craned his head out the window for a moment, glancing up at the sky. He took a moment before getting back in, and then pointed northeast, “That way, I’m pretty sure. A half an hour or so more, I think. My memory from back when I was fleeing Germany is rather rusty nowadays.”

I frowned, “So we’re lost?”

The man gave me a confused stare, “I just said what direction to go in.”

“Followed up by saying your memory is rusty.”

“Just drive, Konrad,” Niko butted in.

I wordlessly backed the truck up the trail, this time with the knowledge of how bumpy it was. It took a minute, but I got the vehicle back on the road.

“Do we have any money?” I asked as I started driving.

“I don’t think so. Why?” Niko leaned forward from the back.

I winced, “Well, I’ve barely eaten in the past few days and I’m starving. We might need to stop somewhere and buy food if we can.”

“But did Rueben not grab a whole sack of items?” Wolfram turned around, gesturing to the rucksack sitting on the floor between my seat and Niko’s.

“He did, but it’s all weaponry and munitions.”

I glanced at the man through the mirror, “Then why not sell some of it? I’m sure it would fetch us a pretty penny.”

“Because I doubt people would have much need for military-grade munitions. Guns are illegal, remember? Even just a hunting rifle is enough to land you in some serious trouble. Plus, all the people who even would’ve bought any of this was probably either killed off by the fascists or imprisoned thanks to registration records,” Niko explained.

“Well, did you search through all of it? He might’ve packed some food,” Wolfram suggested.

Niko deadpanned, “I highly doubt that.”

I quirked an eyebrow, “But are you sure?”

The man stared at me back through the mirror before conceding, “Fine, I’ll look through it.”

A few minutes of silence followed, Niko’s rustling through the rucksack a steady sound in the background. The trip was the same as before; varying sights of forests, plains, and farmlands. Maybe the occasional pond here and there with Wolfram wincing in the background

“Well I’ll be damned.”

I glanced at Niko through the mirror, “Found something?”

“Several rations. Or at least parts of them,” He pulled out a tin with a label in German I couldn’t read through the mirror.

“Only one can?”

“No. There’s a good amount here. I count four tins and that’s just meat. Some metal cups here too.”

I could feel my mouth begin to salivate at the idea of food.

“Wait, so Rueben held rations in the armory?” Wolfram spoke up.

Niko seemed paused for a moment, mulling it over, “It actually makes some sense. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him outside of the armory for longer than fifteen minutes. Only follows that he’d eat in there too.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I stated, “It’s food. Let’s stop and eat.”

The mechanic paused, “No, we need to keep moving. We’ll stop and eat in half an hour when we’ve got some more distance.”

“What is your obsession with running away from Paris? We already have an hour or two between us and the city. We’re not at risk of being captured. So let’s stop and eat for fifteen minutes,” I tightened my grip on the wheel, already feeling a hunger-fueled annoyance begin to bubble up.

“Need I remind you that we’re wanted criminals that would be shot on sight if the Führer’s goose-stepping goons ever found us?”

“Have you seen a single Germany military convoy in our time on the road?”

“Yes.”

“That was half an hour outside of Paris! That doesn’t count.”

“Look, we’re obviously not going to get anywhere by arguing. Let’s just have Wolfram act as a tiebreaker.”

Wolfram hummed for a second before saying, “I have to agree with Konrad. I haven’t eaten in a while either.”

“You’re a socialist; I thought you’d be used to that,” Niko deadpanned from the back.

I grinned, “It’s settled. We stop and eat.”

“Fine. Just make sure to find a well-hidden spot. And we’re eating quickly; we don’t need to be given away by smoke.”

I glanced at Niko in the mirror, a smirk making its way onto my lips, “Whatever you say, dad.”

X-X-X

Fifteen minutes later, and we’d found a small spot at the edge of the forest sheltered from the road. We had parked the car next to our little clearing, keeping the back door open so we could keep an eye on Reuben’s comatose form. After had Niko set up a small fire to keep us all warm, I had tried to drag the rucksack out of the car.

I also learned why Reuben had been struggling to carry it back at base, since it must’ve weighed at least fifty pounds. Wolfram had to come over and help me drag it over.

Finally, after all that work though, I was finally able to get a good look at the foodstuffs. Niko hadn’t been lying when he said there was a good amount. Without any sort of plates or cooking gear, Niko had had to fashion a small rig made of sticks to keep the pork can over the fire.

It was cut into small chunks, so the plan was to simply drop a pork chunk into your mouth from the dangling can. We all sat around the fire as it cooked, waiting in an eager silence. We were all hungry, even Niko despite him trying not to let it show.

It only got worse when the faint smell of cooking meat began wafting around the small clearing. We were so intent on the food that we didn’t even hear the footsteps walking up behind us.

“Oh, you lot dug into the rations?”

Our reactions were instantaneous. Niko grabbed a pistol he’d taken from the car, Wolfram staring at the source of the noise with the expression of a deer caught in headlights. Meanwhile, I nearly had a heart attack from the startle.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Reuben. Don’t sneak up on us like that,” Niko breathed, placing the pistol back on the ground.

The Brit gave a sheepish grin, “Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t think you would be so distracted with the food.”

“So how’s your injury?” I asked, still trying to calm the jackrabbit currently possessing my heart.

“Hurts like the Devil, but I’ll live,” Reuben replied, taking a spot next to the fire and sitting down, “So what’s cooking?”

“We found a pork ration in the rucksack you had taken,” Wolfram gestured to the sack sitting near Niko.

“Yeah, what’s with that anyways?” I quirked my head at the Englishman.

“Oh, the food?” Reuben raised an eyebrow, “I often got carried away in the armory and forgot to do things like eat for the better part of day, so I just kept rations in the room with me that I could cook with my blowtorch whenever I needed them.”

Niko stuck a small log into the fire, seeing it start to die out a bit, “We assumed as much.”

“Did you happen to put that blowtorch in the rucksack too?” Wolfram asked.

Reuben hummed for a moment, staring at the fire, before ultimately responding, “Perhaps? Being honest with you lot, I don’t remember too well what I put in there. I was just grabbing at anything I thought important in the moment.”

“Well, regardless, pork’s done,” Niko spoke up.

My eyes immediately snapped to the can. The mechanic was right, as the pork chunks seemed to be thoroughly cooked. Had we been talking for that long?

Niko reached for the can, but immediately drew his hand back on contact. Right. Heat. I can’t believe we forgot about that.

“Do we wait for it to cool down?” I asked.

Reuben quickly replied, “You lot can if you want.”

With that, he quickly picked up two leaves off the ground and used them as oven mitts to pick up the can.

“Just drop some chunks into your mouth and pass it to Konrad. We have no idea for how long we’ll be on the move so we need to ration our supplies.”

Reuben nodded, quickly dangling the can a few inches above his mouth and letting some pork fall in. He then quickly handed it over. At that point, the cool leaves had taken in most of the heat so I could hold it for a bit without getting my hands roasted.

“So? Is it good?” Niko prompted, staring at the Englishman.

Reuben gave a thumbs up, “Burns like the Dickens but I’m too hungry to care.”

After taking my first portion, I had to agree with him. I knew my tongue would hate me later but I was just too ravenous to care about the heat.

“So you said we’ll be on the move?” Reuben asked through a mouth full of pork.

Niko nodded, watching Wolfram take his fill of the food, “That we will. We’re a few hours outside of Paris, and the plan is to hide out in a village that the communard here came through while escaping Germany. We can’t be sure it’ll work out, though, so we should prepare for the worst.”

“It’s the dead of winter, though,” Reuben said, “How will they even feed us if they do let us stay there?”

Niko paused in the middle of grabbing the tin, “…fuck.”

“We just offer to share the rations with them,” Wolfram replied, voice muffled as he waved his hands dismissively.

“But they aren’t infinite,” I pointed out.

The communard nodded, “Yes, but it’s still a good amount. Plus, I doubt they’re eating much meat these months.”

I nodded, “Yeah, fair point. Back when I was growing up on the farm, we’d rely on what we grew in the summer months for the winter. Our diet wasn’t exactly diverse, either. We’d kill to get some meat. Literally.”

Niko hummed, “I grew up in Vienna so I can’t comment on the farmer lifestyle, but Novembers were rather lifeless when it came to animals.”

I paused, “November?”

The man gave me an odd stare, “Yes.”

“Is it November now?”

“…it is?” Reuben confusedly responded.

I blinked at the group, “How the fuck is it November so soon?”

Niko deadpanned, “You do know how time works, right?”

I stared at him, “Well, yeah. Just a bit surprised. Thinking about it, I guess I knew but didn’t really sink in.”

“…and why is November so important?” Reuben quirked his head, leaning back though I didn’t miss his wince.

“My birthday was in October,” I grimaced at the memories. This was the first time I ever celebrated a birthday without my family. Even last year, I was lucky enough to score two weeks’ leave. Even I’d missed it, what with my single-minded drive to avoid Annette.

I felt a twinge of homesickness in my chest. I’d daydreamed about going back to Bavaria but never before gave it much thought. Now I had all those happy memories thrown back in eyes like mud.

It was weird to think that I’d been conscripted into the army, killed men, and turned into a partisan fighter before I was even considered a legal adult. It felt… wrong, somehow.

“Well, for what it’s worth, happy late birthday. We don’t have any presents, but times are tough in a war,” Niko grunted.

I blinked at him, “Oh, that’s fine. I was more shocked that that I even got here. Seemed like it’d never come.”

Being honest, I wasn’t sure I’d even live to see adulthood. You don’t get thrown on a battlefield and have full confidence you’ll survive. Even truer when said experiences are repeated.

“We’ll all survive the war of fascists and imperialists and live to see the grand utopia Stalin shall bring to Europe,” Wolfram hummed.

I stared at him. I’d known him long enough to know that that was just his incredibly odd way of trying to reassure me, but it was still just plain weird.

Reuben wasn’t as subtle with his confusion, but got over it quicker than I did, “Doubt the Jerries will be able to take us out when we’ve gotten this far.”

“Let’s just hope Europe stops kicking itself in the shins sometime soon. Would be nice to have some peace for once without the economy going to shit,” Niko stated. He seemed to have eaten his feel while we were talking.

Reuben spoke up again, “I hate to drag the discussion to a halt, but we really should get on the move. The sun is rather low in the sky. I’d estimate we have… maybe an hour ‘till sundown.”

I glanced up through the gnarled branches of the trees edging the clearing. The Englishman spoke the truth, with the sun starting to dip below the treeline.

“Agreed. I trust no one will starve to death?” Niko glanced at the three of us, getting a unanimous no, “Good then. Let’s go.”