Patiently, Krauss withdrew an engraved silver flask from the interior pocket of his coat. One side bore the initials A.H., etched in fancy Germanic script, and the reverse bore the Reich war eagle, marred and deliberately scratched to disfigure.

Unscrewing the cap, he took a long drink, then looked up to the soldier who had swooped in unannounced to bear bad news. Arching an eyebrow, he offered the flask to the bewildered soldier.

“Und noch einer…” he mumbled to himself, shrugging a bit. “Asche zu Asche, Staub zu Staub. Such a shame.”