“I’m not plotting or planning anything, Strasser. You know that would be madness with my wife’s life on the line. Don’t you see that it’s her that I am loyal to? And so long as she’s all right, then I will do nothing to risk her life. After all, that’s why I’m here, and not in an unmarked grave in Crete.”

Strasser averted his eyes and sat down.

“Good,” he said quietly. “Good. I’m glad we’ve got that settled.”

For a while, the two men sat in silence, Strasser going through one of his stacks of paper, Lockhart looking at the measly coal fire. Strasser’s warning was not surprising in itself, only surprising because he felt the need to give it. But there was still movement in Strasser, still the ability to horse-trade. There would be no harm in asking. Lockhart cleared his throat, an action that pained his lung.

“If,” he said, croaking slightly and then clearing his throat once more, “if I knock this unit into shape, then can I see my wife?”

Strasser sat back and smiled.

“You don’t give up, do you, Lockhart?”

“You know me.”

“So you’re suggesting a new deal?”

“That’s right.”

Strasser rubbed his jaw, as though appreciating a good shave.

“What do you mean exactly by ‘knock into shape’?”

“Get it into a condition that satisfies the high military requirements of the Waffen-SS, of course.”

Strasser looked tickled by the idea.

“All right, Lockhart. That’s a deal. And I shall be the judge of whether the unit has reached the required standard.”

“Agreed.”

“And I am allowed to break the rules at any time.”

“Agreed.”

Lockhart knew he was in no position to negotiate any further.

“Good,” said Strasser. “Those terms suit me fine.”

Strasser’s grin looked so untrustworthy, so false, that Lockhart could have laughed.

“Now then,” said Strasser, “bring your chair up and study this training schedule I have devised.”

Lockhart drew up his chair. As he did so, Strasser rifled through the papers on his desk.

“Aha!” Strasser exclaimed. “Here it is!”

“Here’s what?”

“Another letter from your wife. I’m sorry—I almost forgot!”

Strasser passed the letter over. Lockhart’s hands trembled slightly as he ripped it open.

My darling,

They came today and told me I could write to you again! I hear that you are in a POW camp, and that you are doing well, behaving yourself—most un-you! The thought that you are alive takes away so much of the pain. I am praying for you, praying that you are well, praying that we will be together again. I wish you were allowed to write to me, but just the knowledge that you will be reading these words gives me so much comfort. Have you heard from Ma and Pa about Amy? Any news at all?

I was thinking of Ephesians the other day, our lesson, and the part that goes we are to be “one flesh.” I can’t tell you how much I feel that. Whatever happens to us, there will always be us.