Dangerous Territory

Clarity in the Cathedral

Eren spent most of his first day in Metz at a beer hall full of soldiers. A few had women with them, letting the girls sit on their laps, telling them stories of bravery while their buddies insisted none of it was true. They toasted their commanding officer, buying more and more beers for Eren, cheering for him like a hero who could end the war single-handedly.

Eren drank beer after beer. He talked and laughed with his platoon mates late into the night, sang every song they could think of, even some Eren had never heard before, but he learned them as they sang and cheered, swaying to songs of the Fatherland.

Oh, Du schöner Westerwald!
(Eukalyptusbonbon!)
Über Deine Höhen pfeift der Wind so kalt!
Jedoch der kleinste Sonnenschein
Dringt tief ins Herz hinein.

After many hours, Eren retreated to the lavatory to relieve nature. There he came across Armin standing by the sink, washing his face and looking woozy like he had just vomited.

"Drink too much?" Eren asked, his own voice slurring as he unzipped his trousers and stood in front of a urinal.

"Sorry, sir. Connie was really pushing me into more toasts."

"I'll have Floch drive you home."

"Das müssen Sie nicht tun, Herr Leutnant." You don't have to do that, lieutenant.

"Sie?" Eren asked, catching the formality in his words. "Since when is it Sie between us?"

Armin pouted as he leaned against the wall to keep upright while his head swam. "Jean is right. This is Metz. It's not like that little village; it's not even like Paris. We're on the front lines again, just like Anzio, and in Anzio we showed you proper respect."

"In Anzio, I was fresh out of the academy. I probably demanded respect since I didn't know any of you."

"Still, of all times to take our roles seriously, this is it. I've seen the maps. If things keep going as they are, Metz is going to be the last German stronghold in France." His head lowered and shook despondently. "Now is the time to act like real soldiers."

"We went through hell in Anzio," Eren reminded him. "We qualify as real soldiers more than most of the men here."

"Some of these men have been in this country since the Battle of France. Many were at Normandy. I met one who has been fighting since the 1939 Verteidigungskrieg. Five years! I can't even imagine five years of this hell. And the worst is coming up." He glanced around, but all the stalls were empty. "What happened to you-know-who?"

Eren shook off a droplet of urine, tucked himself away, and zipped up his trousers. "My hotel has an attic. He's safe."

Armin smiled in relief. "That's good."

"I need your help planning an escape."

"I know. I'll start gathering maps in the morning. A city map to start, a better map of the region would help for after he gets past the walls, then if I can get access to maps of enemy movements, figure a route so he's not caught in the middle of a war zone..."

"Leave that to me," said Eren. "And Armin ... thank you."

Armin smiled, feeling once again like they were just two friends, not enlisted and officer. "You're welcome, Eren."

"Let's get you home."

Eren helped Armin to walk as they went back to the beer hall and hunted out Floch. Unfortunately, the young soldier had drank to excess and passed out on a table. Eren shook his head, but he figured at least his men could have some fun here in Metz. Even if Armin's grim warning was right, for the moment at least, they could enjoy life to the fullest.