Hasso held his rifle steady, ready to act at any given moment. The soldiers around him shared that stance. Heinrich had given them so much, had brought them victories and had taken care of them.
"DROP YOUR WEAPON, OBERLEUTNANT!" a colonel shouted, aiming his pistol at Paul, who did not move an inch, his eyes still focused ahead.
"We will shoot if you don't!" he shouted again.
"You won't dare!" Hasso yelled from the other side, his grip tightening, his muzzle now aiming at the colonel.
"STOP IT!" A loud and stern voice brought all of them back to reality. "Are you kids? What the hell are you doing aiming at each other? Put away your rifles, all of you! That's an order!"
The General moved closer, towards Paul."Heinrich, can you explain to me what the hell you are doing? What grave crime did Hauptmann Fuchs commit for you to attack him like this?" Sperrle asked, trying to deescalate.
"What grave crime, you ask?" Paul opened his mouth for the first time since the standoff began.
"Hauptmann Fuchs," he spat out the name, his voice filled with poison, "is responsible for everything I had to endure."
General Sperrle's gaze unconsciously moved to Paul's torso.
"He tried to kill me," Paul said quietly, almost whispering it.
His eyes met Sperrle's. "Have you not asked yourself what happened back at that school I freed you from? Why I did not come out of that goddamn cellar? Have you not given it a thought?"
Paul paused for a moment before turning back towards Hauptmann Fuchs."If you didn't, then how about asking him?"
The Hauptmann's eyes were filled with fear. Sweat was pouring down his forehead, dripping to the ground.
Sperrle looked at Fuchs, then at Paul, before his gaze stopped at Fuchs. "Go on then. Tell us what happened."
He moved a bit closer.
Fuchs's eyes widened, moving hectically between the General and Paul. "I... I," he stuttered, "I don't know what he wants from me. I haven't done anything."
Paul thought about pulling the trigger right in that moment. Every muscle urged him to, his fingers tingling in anticipation.
Sperrle saw Paul's reaction and realized the situation could escalate further. He took a quick step forward."Then why did Oberleutnant Jaeger not return from the cellar? You were last to come out, if I remember correctly. What happened to him?"
"I... there was smoke and dust, I couldn't really see anything, none of us could, right? Perhaps he tripped?" Fuchs stammered.
A terrifying smile appeared on Paul's lips. "I slipped?"
Sperrle's eyes widened at the answer before lunging at Paul, already close enough to push him to the ground.
A shot rang out, grazing Fuchs's head, the muzzle pulled aside by Sperrle's sudden shove.
"Take him into custody!" Sperrle ordered, struggling to hold Paul to the ground.
He leaned closer to the resisting Oberleutnant, his voice low so that only Paul could hear."I believe you," he whispered.
Paul's movements slowed. A moment later, the soldiers pulled him up and took him away.Before disappearing from sight, he looked at Hasso and gave him a short, reassuring nod — a silent plea to stay calm, to stop any thought of rebellion.
Paul was not brought into a cell but seated inside the General's temporary office in Ávila. Two guards flanked him, each resting a firm hand on his shoulder.
Then the door opened, and Sperrle revealed himself. He walked in, sat down across from Paul, and studied him in silence.
After a moment, he turned to the guards."You two can leave," he ordered.
They exchanged uncertain glances. "Are… are you sure, Sir?" one of them asked.
Sperrle gave them a cold stare. "I will not repeat myself."
The guards obeyed immediately and left, closing the door behind them.
A heavy silence hung between the two men.
"I want to apologize," Sperrle said first.
"No, I have to apologize," Paul interrupted him. "I acted on emotions I thought I had long buried."
"Well, it seems neither of us is perfect." Sperrle allowed himself a faint smile. "As I said before, I believe you. But you can't simply kill a Hauptmann of the Wehrmacht like that. Doing so would have meant your own death. He must be brought before a military tribunal — or at least, we need some evidence before an execution can be justified."
"To get that," he continued, leaning back slightly, "I'll have to let him off the hook for now. I know you two didn't know each other before, which rules out any personal grievance. The most realistic explanation is espionage. He's an agent, planted here, and he was ordered to kill you. Perhaps they feared your rise — a young officer showing too much promise."
"Perhaps," Paul said, thinking about it.
"I have planted good men — capable, trustworthy men — to watch his every step. If he's as dumb as I think, he will try to contact his middleman somehow. If he does, I'll let you pull the trigger this time."
Paul looked at the man. Sperrle had given him much. Any other general would have thrown him into a dark cell by now, if not shot him on the spot.
I will remember this, Sperrle, Paul thought, a small feeling of gratitude forming inside him.
"Now — will you tell me what the hell really happened?" Sperrle asked, curt, almost impatient.
Paul looked up for a moment, studying the ceiling before he breathed in. "I've tried to help some officers who were falling behind. I helped them up one by one until it was that son of a bitch's turn."
He paused, forcing the memory back into words. "I'd seen him glance at me before, but I shrugged it off — maybe he'd seen me in a newspaper or something. When I grabbed his hand to help him, he smiled, then pulled me. He caught me off guard and I plummeted down the stairs. He shoved me into an abyss and looked at me with such satisfaction and relief in his eyes —"
Paul balled his fist; the skin was already reddening. "The hatred kept me alive."
"I remember being found among the rubble by someone — but it wasn't one of ours."
"The next thing I remember is waking up in that prison, being greeted by that psycho. He nursed me back to strength only to cut me down again, every single time."
"When our forces finally reached Ávila, I saw an opportunity to escape. I took it. I left justice for those who'd held me captive."
Sperrle listened carefully, sometimes raising an eyebrow or swallowing hard.When Paul finished, he muttered something under his breath, a faint curse perhaps, remembering the reports about the massacre that had taken place inside the prison of Ávila.
"Then how did you conquer a city with a men ratio of one to two stacked against you?" Sperrle asked in disbelief.
Paul told him everything, down to the smallest detail.
Sperrle would sometimes leave remarks like, "Truly a genius idea. Good work. I would have acted the same way..."
After their talk, both men stood up and shook hands.
"After we get that bastard, I promise you'll get the recognition you deserve. I'll tell High Command about you. Perhaps even the Führer himself will be interested."
"Thank you, General. I thank you truly," Paul said, full of gratitude for the man before him.
They parted, and Paul was brought into a small room, hidden from the public.
A few days passed when a knock woke Paul from his daze.
Sperrle entered, a big smile on his face.
"Our man was dumb enough indeed. He tried to send a letter to his middleman, but our men stepped in before he could."
"Sadly, he passed. Bit down on a cyanide pill," Sperrle said.
Paul's jaw tightened. Although he had wanted to finish the job himself, he was still grateful the matter was settled at all.
"That's still great news. What about the letter? Any intel?" Paul asked, eager to find out who had plotted against him.
"We got some important information," Sperrle replied. "I'll give it to you later. For now, I've got something better for you."
He left the room, only to return moments later carrying a brand-new military uniform."Although it's not official yet, Berlin has informed me that the Führer has decided to grant you a rare double promotion. Rumors say he was completely fascinated by your story, your heroism, your feats."
Paul's eyes widened.
"The Führer, huh." So now I've already appeared at the edge of the frame. It won't be long before I'm just a step away from it's center, Paul thought — calculations already forming inside his mind.
"Oberleutnant Jaeger, I hereby promote you, by the authority given to me by the High Command of the German Wehrmacht and the Führer himself, to the rank of Major."
Sperrle smiled warmly, handed him the uniform, and patted his shoulder."Congratulations, Major — you deserve it."
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