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Dangerous Territory	By : Rhov Category: +. to F > Attack on Titan /Shingeki No Kyojin Views: 4227 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own “Shingeki no Kyojin” and do not make money from this fanfic.

Chapter List
- 68
- 69
- 70
Historical Note: Germans in WWII referred to Americans as Der Ami, or the more derogatory term Scheißami (“shit American,” we saw Eren use that term before). Americans used terms like Kraut, Fritz, Heinie, and simply “Nazi” regardless of the political opinions of the individual soldier.
I wanted to point out these terms, so readers are not confused.
Chapter 69
It's All Burning Down

Eren waited at the door of the town hall until his crew had gathered. He looked them over, making sure they had on helmets, equipment, and their rifles were at the ready. Ivan had his flamethrower. Armin had a huge radio strapped to his back. Luke, Jurgen, and Dieter had their rifles ready. Armin gave him a nod, showing they were ready to depart.
Two men guarding the main door stood ready to let them out past the razor wire and sandbags. Eren felt a cold determination sweep over him.
Back into the fire.
"Let's go," he said, and he faced the door.
The guards pulled back the razor wire, and Eren, Armin, Ivan, Jurgen, Dieter, and Luke stepped out into the cold daylight.
The skies were clear again, but the chill tingled their cheeks. Clear skies in autumn used to be perfect days back when Eren was a child in Cuxhaven. Now, it brought the threat of air strikes.
He thought to himself, the darkness of cloud cover and rain would have been safer.
All around the town hall, the Germans had turned the streets into a maze of landmines, barbed wire, and sandbags piled up to prevent Allies from driving their vehicles too close. The streets were pock-marked where artillery had destroyed areas.
Eren remembered how Maizières-lès-Metz looked when they first arrived. He had seen the slow destruction. Now, the place thousands of people once called Home was nothing more than gutted-out shells where soldiers could escape the bullets or ambush the enemy.
He ran hunched low, trying to keep to any sandbag piles and bits of destroyed walls. He heard his men running behind him, but he had to keep his eyes forward, planning the next place to go. Being out in the open like this always carried risks.
Suddenly, he heard a single blast of a gun. Instincts kicked in. Eren dove for cover and rolled into position behind a brick wall. He heard one of his men scream, followed by another shot. Seconds later, Armin crawled up beside him.
"Sniper. He hit Ivan."
"Was the flamethrower tank hit?" asked Eren.
Armin frowned that Eren's concern was more for the equipment than the man. "I don't think it was hit." Two more rifle shots echoed through the streets. Then Armin thought about what Eren asked. "It won't explode, will it?"
"Not unless they use an incendiary, but I sure wouldn't want to get that fuel on me."
Luke finally made it to the low brick wall, dragging Dieter and Jurgen.
"We can't leave him out there!" Dieter shouted. "His body is right there in front of us."
Eren slid over to the edge of the wall. Just that much, and the sniper fired again. He pulled back, but that was enough for him to see Ivan's lifeless body. He closed his eyes. "Dead is dead. Retrieving the body won't change anything. We need to move on. Our comrades are still alive and need our help."
"You're going to leave him out there?" Jurgen screamed. Just then, another bullet hit the brick wall. "Lieutenant!"
"We can't go out there just for a dead body," Eren argued. "We need to press on."
Luke nodded. "Let's go, you two. We'll try to get him later."
Eren frowned. "It would have been useful to at least have that flamethrower."
Dieter sneered, his fists shaking. "We trained together. We are a crew. Jurgen and I, we were trained to protect him. He's more than just a comrade. He's my friend."
Eren snapped, "And he would want you to live, no matter the price!" He turned, and his face went cold. "Armin, what's the best route from here?"
Jurgen went over to Dieter, also angry. "He's my friend too," he whispered. "Ivan and I grew up in the same village."
"You know they're not going to retrieve the body," Dieter whispered. "If we can at least drag him to shelter … if the fuel tank gets hit, his body could go up in flames. His family at least deserves to bury him."
Jurgen nodded, and he took a quick glance at where Eren and Armin were searching the neighborhood for a safe route. As soon as Luke went over to join the conversation, Jurgen slipped his backpack off. "Cover me. I'll be quick."
"Stay low," said Dieter.
Dieter pulled out his rifle and searched around, hoping to see precisely where the sharpshooter was hiding. Jurgen bolted out.
Too late, Luke turned around. "Idiot! Get back here!" Then he saw Dieter. "What are you doing?"
Dieter snarled, "I'm going to shoot that Scheißami."
However, the sniper fired, and Jurgen went down, grabbing his leg. Growling in pain but determined, he went on. Dieter tried to shoot in the direction the bullets seemed to come, but he could not find the exact place.
Eren shook his head. "We shouldn't have brought them."
Jurgen reached Ivan and managed to grab him. He began to drag Ivan's heavy, lifeless body—flamethrower tank and all—but another gunshot ripped through his shoulder. Blood sprayed out, he howled, and he could no longer grab his friend. Still, he pulled with one hand.
"Let him go!" Eren barked. "That's an order!"
Dieter again tried to shoot, but he could not see where this sniper was. He dropped his rifle and bolted over to Jurgen.
Now the sharpshooter let loose shot after shot. Jurgen was hit in the gut, then in the chest, before the rifle turned to Dieter. A blast erupted, and he went down grabbing his hip.
"Shit! Shit, shit, shit!" he howled.
"Dieter!" Jurgen yelled in horror. "Go back! Get under cover!" Then he was hit again in the abdomen and went down in a ghastly howl of agony.
Dieter sneered. "I'm not leaving you."
Armin pleaded, "Dieter! Fall back!" He pulled out his radio. "This is Jäger Platoon. We are under attack. A sniper has us pinned down at the corner of … crap, where are we?"
Luke pulled up his rifle, but just then a single distant bullet rang out. From a third story window of a building, a man dressed in fatigues fell onto the debris below.
Armin's radio suddenly crackled into life. "Hey, Armin!" Connie's voice called out. "Is that you out there? I sure as hell hope you're going to get Moblit. They've been captured."
Armin let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Connie. Can you give us cover?"
"A bit. I had to move to a new position to hit that guy, and it's leaving Floch defenseless."
Eren leaned over to the radio. "Floch should have enough distance between him and the enemy. We need to focus on Moblit and the rest now. We'll save as many as we can." He muttered to himself, "Sometimes, that's the best you can hope for."
Then he looked over at Dieter. He was still holding his hip, blood soaking through his fingers, and sobbing over Jurgen and Ivan. Jurgen was hemorrhaging, and from the blood gushing in pulses out of his chest, Eren knew he would not survive for long.
Eren stood up, glanced around to make sure no other snipers were going to take shots, and finally walked over.
Jurgen looked up and saw the disapproval in his commanding officer's face. "Sorry, sir. I just … I don't even care about Hitler or politics. I just didn't want my friends to die."
Eren knelt down and silently removed Ivan's flamethrower.
Luke walked up. "I can take it, sir."
Instead, Eren shouldered it himself. "I have training on flamethrowers." He adjusted the straps and looked down at Jurgen. "You're a damn fool. A dead body isn't worth your life."
Jurgen nodded, only now realizing that. "Will … Will I be left here too?"
Eren's face held no emotion as he buckled on the flamethrower harness. "Yes. Until we get our platoon back, your body will lie here."
"Eren," Armin whispered, shaking his head at such cold words said to a dying man.
Jurgen closed his eyes as a tear slipped out. "At least tell my family … I died with honor."
Eren looked disgusted. "You're dying from your own stu-…"
"Eren!" Armin snapped.
He slammed his mouth shut. At the very least, he would give this soldier a final, comforting thought. "I'll personally write to your family and tell them you died trying to rescue a teammate. Maybe you'll even get a medal."
Jurgen sputtered out a weak laugh. "Lot of good … that does me … now." A sickening rattle shivered out of his lungs, and then his chest stopped. His eyes slowly opened for one last gaze up into the clear blue skies as the light in them faded.
Dieter broke down into tears and collapsed over his friend. "No. This isn't how it's supposed to be."
"It's war." Eren's words thudded out. "Get up."
Luke was busy examining the wound to Dieter's hip. "He can't walk."
"He has to, because none of us are dragging his ass to a medic. You either stay here as an easy target for another sniper, limp your way back to the town hall alone and hope you don't step on a landmine, or you come with us, and I'll let you go to the hospital in Metz. It'll get you out of this damn battle, and maybe you'll be sent back home. Isn't that what you and your friends wanted: a battle scar to show off to the girls after the war is over? Well, you all three got one!"
"Eren," Armin warned again.
He turned and headed down the street, shifting the flamethrower to a more comfortable place on his back. "Start marching, soldier."
Dieter looked down at Ivan and Jurgen one last time, his face drenched in tears, but he moved to get up. Armin and Luke both got him onto his feet. He sucked in air between his teeth at the searing pain burning in his hip.
"I'll help him," Luke offered. "You keep an eye on the lieutenant. That flamethrower is going to make him a target."
Armin nodded and left Dieter to Luke. He had a feeling Luke was sending him after Eren because of the hellbent glare in his eyes.
They continued onward. Once in a while, they heard Connie's sniper rifle taking out someone ahead, or at least scaring them off.
Eren reached the location where Moblit's message was last sent, but he saw no one around.
"Connie said they were captured. Where?"
Armin crouched down and pulled the bulky radio off of his back. He set it up and called out, "Connie, are you there?"
Connie's voice crackled over. "They're nearby. Another hundred meters north, there's a building across from the train station, a warehouse maybe. I saw the Amis take Moblit and the rest inside. I can't tell what's going on from here."
Eren ordered, "Stay in position and be prepared to provide us with cover. If you see any Ami reinforcements, take them out."
"One more thing, sir. There's fighting east of the warehouse, top floor of a three-story building. I don't know how many of our men are in there, but I saw Thomas and at least one other."
"Shit," Eren whispered. "We'll get Moblit and the rest of the platoon first, then we'll rescue them. Thanks for letting me know. I don't want to leave anyone behind."
Holding his bleeding hip, Dieter grumbled. "Like you left Jurgen and Ivan behind?"
Eren shot him a caustic glare. "They are already dead. You can't save the dead."
Connie's voice sounded frail over the radio. "Jurgen and Ivan are dead?"
"Let's make sure it isn't more. Keep your radio handy, but we're going to set ours outside of that warehouse so Armin can fight."
Connie said, "Okay, I can see you guys better… Wait, do you have a flamethrower on your back?" he cried out in shock.
Eren flipped off the radio. "We need to be quiet as we approach. Dieter, you can wait here or approach at your own speed. We could use your help, but only if you think you can make it." Eren patted the grieving man on the shoulder. "Survive this so you can tell their stories."
He nodded, lips trembling, and then the others took off.
Armin packed up the bulky radio and hefted it onto his back. Luke went ahead to scout out the warehouse. Eren continued cautiously and looked down at the flamethrower.
He said he had training on this. In reality, he only got to play with one in Napola. Each of the boys in that military academy got a turn to strap on a Flammenwerfer 35 and set some books on fire. (Eren never bothered to find out what the books were about, but someone said they were written by Jewish authors.) At 36 kg, the device was heavy for a child. Advances in weaponry made this Flammenwerfer 41 now on Eren's back half the weight with further range. Although the design was much different, the concept was the same, and the muzzle in his hands felt familiar.
They saw the building Connie mentioned, and sure enough, they clearly heard a gun battle a little farther down in a tall building. Eren saw Luke Cis peeking through a window, and he and Armin took cover behind the remains of a brick wall. Armin removed the bulky radio and stashed it away. Finally, Luke crept back over and knelt beside Eren.
He kept his voice low as he reported. "They're in there, kneeling, hands on their heads, maybe ten Amis holding them at gunpoint."
Eren sneered. "Only ten?" How could Moblit have lost to merely ten enemies?
Luke frowned in grief. "It … It didn't look like there were many of our men left."
Armin lowered his head and glanced back to where Dieter was still struggling to make it over to them, hobbling down the road and trailing blood.
Eren glanced the building over, from one end to the other. Then he looked down at the flamethrower. "What's the layout? Where in the building are they being held?"
Luke took a shattered piece of stone and drew in the dried mud under them. "The warehouse looks to be a single open space, ten support pillars, Moblit and the platoon are right in the middle. Four Amis guard them." He drew lines to represent doors. "I saw two doors and a loading bay. No one was by the bay—it's probably jammed shut—but there were three Amis by each door."
Eren nodded thoughtfully. "How large would you say that warehouse is?"
Luke scanned the breadth of the building. "Hundred meters? Hundred twenty?"
Eren gripped the flamethrower tighter. He muttered to himself, "And they're in the middle."
Armin sharply looked over at him. "Eren, no! That is far too dangerous."
Luke also understood where the lieutenant was going with this. "That is what a flamethrower was made for, though."
"The FmW 41 has a range of thirty-two meters," Eren said, reciting what he had been told in officer training school. "They'll feel heat, but the flames won't reach them. I'll take care of one door. Luke, you take a window. As soon as the flames start, shoot the Amis guarding our men. Armin, I want you stationed near the front entrance. Don't allow any Ami to escape, or they'll bring reinforcements and we're all as good as dead." Just then, Dieter finally dragged himself over. "I'm glad you made it. Are you ready for one more battle before you're sent home with a scar to show the girls?"
Dieter looked pale and sweaty, but he nodded. "I'm not leaving anyone behind."
Eren patted his shoulder, and for a moment they all saw the gentle twinkle in his eyes, the look they knew well of their benevolent commanding officer. "You were trained to be Ivan's support crew. Now you're mine. You'll avenge him, you'll avenge Jurgen, and you'll help to save the rest of your comrades."
Dieter looked down at his hip and flinched. "I don't think I can walk much more," he admitted.
"Can you make it to the warehouse?" Eren asked, and Dieter nodded. "That's all I need you to do. You know the drill. Keep low and stay away from the flames. You'll be in a hospital flirting with nurses before this day is over. Now, are we ready?"
The men nodded. "Jawohl, Herr Oberleutnant!"
"Sieg heil."
They all whispered with determination, "Sieg heil!"
They broke into three groups. Armin crept low toward the front entrance. Luke went to a window near the center of the building, glancing briefly over the sill to make sure he was lined up with the enemy. Eren and Dieter went to a back door. Dieter still struggled to walk, quietly hissing in pain that turned his face into a fixed grimace, but Eren kept his pace slow for him. They slid along the wall, all the way up to the double set of doors.
"That's good," Eren whispered when they were in place. "Here's the plan. Knock on the door, and then get the hell out of the way."
"Knock?" Dieter exclaimed softly.
"Yes. Here's the pattern: one long, two short, two long, wait a second, then two long."
Dieter was curious. "Is that American Morse code?"
"No, it's something they call Shave and a Haircut. High Command learned that the Amis use it as a code when knocking on doors. At the very least, it's familiar to them, and they won't shoot."
"What if they call out first?"
Eren smirked slyly. "I am fluent in English, you know."
Dieter barely held back a laugh. "I almost forgot."
Eren turned around to show Dieter the tank. "Is it ready?"
Dieter slipped into the training he had as Flammenwerfer support. "Yes, sir. Pressure looks good."
Eren nodded and turned back to the door. "Guard my flank in case there are patrols nearby. Now, remember the pattern."
Dieter raised his blood-covered hand and knocked against his other palm to show he knew it. Eren nodded in approval. He flattened himself against the wall beside the door, gripped the flamethrower with his finger on the ignition trigger, and calmed his breath. Dieter's bloody hand raised, trembling slightly. He gulped, but he gave firm knocks.
Shave and a haircut, two bits!
Immediately, he moved out of the way and pulled gun his out. Eren's whole body was coiled up, prepared to spring. They heard English words from the other side of the door.
"Who's out there?"
Mimicking the American accent he had been practicing all month, Eren replied in English, "Don't worry, buddy. I'm on your side. Open the door, quickly! There's some Nazi bastards right behind me."
He heard a huge metal lock clang. As soon as the door creaked open, Eren spun into view with the flamethrower lowered. He saw the shocked look of the American soldier.
"Thanks, buddy," he said with a maniacal grin.
Fuel and flame burst out. The man in front of him shrieked and dropped to the ground, rolling around, trying to put out the fire, but the Flammöl stuck to his clothes.
Eren bellowed out. "Feuer! Runter!" Fire! Get down!
"It's a Kraut! Shoot!"
Eren swung to the right, and the other two Americans guarding the door tried to run away, but there was no way to outrun the jet of hellish fire. He blasted them until they dropped, shrieking in agony and crying for help.
Around him, he heard gunfire and shouts in both English and German. He saw a bullet fly right in front of his face, barely missing him, and suddenly Dieter was beside him, providing him with cover. Through waves of heat, Eren saw Luke at one of the warehouse windows, his gun shooting at the Americans who held Moblit captive, while Armin was at the far end of the warehouse shooting the remaining soldiers.
Eren saw one desperate American making his way toward the loading bay. He stomped forward, closing the distance, and shot another jet of flames. The man howled horrifically, writhing around in agony as the petrol and tar fuel drenched him and fire consumed his body.
Dieter looked down at one of the blackened bodies still writhing in agony and fired a bullet right into the man's head. He went from one charred body to the next, making sure they really were dead and putting the survivors out of their misery.
Armin came in through the front door and rushed over to their men kneeling in the middle of the warehouse. He immediately began to check their wounds.
Eren blew on his hand. He had blisters where the metal had heated up. He should have thought about taking Ivan's gloves as well.
Moblit walked up to Eren. "You made quite an entrance. Good to see you, sir. I really thought we were heading to a prison camp."
"I'm glad you're safe," Eren said with a genuine smile of relief. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine, but we have wounded. I see Dieter isn't doing too great," Moblit said, looking at where Dieter had collapsed onto the ground, almost passed out from blood loss.
Eren frowned. "We lost Ivan and Jurgen on the way here."
Moblit closed his eyes in a moment of respect for the dead. "That explains the flamethrower. Thomas and Franz got separated from us."
"We heard the fight not far from here. Is anyone else with them?"
"Just those two."
"Well, we're not leaving them behind. Luke," he called out. "Get Moblit and anyone who can still fight back to the town hall. Use one of the backstreets. Jarnach, get the wounded to the southern slag pile. There's a wheeled cart over there. I know it's undignified, but those who can't walk can be pushed to the medics. Armin, radio Connie, tell him to keep the wounded safe. Then you're with me."
"Jawohl!" Armin said, and he rushed outside to get his radio.
Moblit lowered his voice. "I can get Thomas and Franz. You get back to safety, Herr Oberleutant."
Eren smiled at his loyalty. "I came here to get my men back, and I'm not leaving until I get them all. Keep them organized until I return."
Armin returned, hauling the heavy radio. "Connie has a route the wounded can take."
"Give the instructions to Jarnach. Let him keep the radio."
The platoon split into two. Luke and Moblit headed out with most of the platoon, while Jarnach organized the wounded. Those who could walk helped those who could not, either limping or, for leg wounds like Dieter, being set upon one of the warehouse's wheeled carts.
Eren walked up to one of the shot American soldiers and kicked the body over. He gazed down at the face: a young man, eighteen perhaps, brown hair, blue eyes, not so different from himself. He knelt beside the body and pulled out the dog tags.
John Miller. This enemy had a name. He had a family back home, maybe a girlfriend or a wife. Eren glanced back at the smoking husks of the men he had charred. Those men also had friends, family, dreams, and he had burned it all away.
Eren closed his eyes, purging that sympathy from his heart. He could not allow his conscience to control him. Like Hitler said:
"Gewissen ist eine jüdische Erfindung.
Es ist wie die Beschneidung
eine Verstümmelung des menschlichen Wesens."
"Conscience is a Jewish invention. Like circumcision, it is a mutilation of the human being."
He could not afford to be weakened by a conscience, not when he still had a battle to fight and men to protect. Yes, these enemies had families, but so did the Germans standing around him, and his duty was to them, to those families who wanted their sons to come back safely.
He felt around the man's pockets and pulled out a tiny pack of cigarettes. Eren smiled in relief. Leave it to the Americans to always have cigarettes on them. The package said Lucky Strike. Well, not lucky for this man.
"I'll be taking these off you," he muttered in English. "They're bad for your health, after all."
Eren rose and stepped outside. He tapped out of one the cigarettes, pulled out his lighter, and lit the end. He took a long, direly needed drag, then slowly released a stream of smoke. He instantly felt relief in the nerves that had been on edge for over a week, ever since he ran out of cigarettes.
He glanced around at the town. He normally tried to avoid thinking about who used to live here, what happened to them, and how their lives would be once those civilians returned home to … this! To destruction. Real people worked in these stores, ate in these restaurants, and lived in these houses. Generations had built their livelihoods in these stone and brick buildings.
Although it was mostly damage caused by the Americans, he was sure that those civilians would blame Germany. Just as well. This town would not have ended up this way if not for them taking a stand.
He could hear the gun battle in that tall building. Thomas and Franz were still holding out, but for how long? They were probably almost out of ammunition.
"Armin!"
A moment later Armin joined him. His nose wrinkled at the smell of tobacco. "You're smoking with a flamethrower on your back? Do you want to get burned alive?"
"It's fine so long as none of the fuel gets on me."
Armin glanced around at the carnage. "This reminds me of Anzio."
"It's worse," Eren grumbled. "At least in Anzio, we couldn't see their faces. We couldn't see that they look just like us." Eren took a long drag on his cigarette. "Have I ever said how much I hate urban warfare?"
"Once or twice," Armin said with a light smile. "Jarnach is about to head out. Are you ready to go?"
Eren crushed out the cigarette. "The sooner we save them, the sooner I can enjoy the rest of these American cigarettes."
Armin reached into his pocket and pulled out more cardboard boxes. "I snagged a couple more. I figured you'd want them."
Eren laughed and took the cigarette cartons. "Du bist klasse." You're awesome.
Eren oversaw Jarnach departing. Thankfully, there were only five wounded, counting Dieter, and only two needed the cart to be hauled back to a medical tent. Still, that was five men he would lose in this battle, and his platoon was already dwindling.
At least in the hospital, they would be safe.
As he watched them slowly heading down the street, Eren muttered, "Is it bad that I've begun to think, the more wounded I have, the more men I save?"
"I think the same thing," Armin admitted. "In a way, they're lucky. At least they get out of here. We're not going to win this battle."
Eren knew that was true. The objective was never to win, only to hold out, to fight to the last man.
Eren turned toward the three-story building. They approached slowly, scanning the area. There did not seem to be any Americans around this section. Still, they came up to the building cautiously, peering in through a window first.
"Ich sehe niemanden," Armin whispered. I don't see anyone.
Eren wondered if they were all on the top floor. Thomas and Franz were probably come to this building to get a sniper position in order to rescue Moblit, and instead they got trapped.
They stepped cautiously through the bits of broken plaster and wood. With all the desks and filing cabinets, this looked like it had once been an administrative building. They finally found the staircase. High above, they heard echoes of shouting.
Suddenly, there was static. Eren and Armin both jumped, but then they saw a radio left on a table. Curious, Armin went up to it and adjusted the antenna. A voice boomed out in English.
"I repeat, all troops fall back. You are to return to base immediately. If you cannot withdraw, take shelter. This is an order from Colonel Barth to all troops. Fall back now! I repeat, all troops fall back."
Armin asked, "Was ist los? Was hat er gesagt?" What's going on? What did he say?
"Sie ziehen sich zurück." They're retreating.
Armin thought about it. A frantic call for retreat? Why? His eyes widened as it dawned on him. "Sie planen einen Anschlag." They're planning an attack.
"Los, wir müssen uns beeilen." Come on, we have to hurry.
They climbed up the stairs, trying to go with caution but also a sense of urgency. If there was a massive attack planned, being in a tall building like this was dangerous.
Above, Eren heard a voice.
"Come on, guys! They've called the retreat. Just leave the damn Krauts there."
"We've got 'em cornered," another voice yelled. "If we leave 'em, as soon as we step out of this building, they'll snipe us. 'Sides, the only good Nazi is a dead Nazi."
Eren and Armin now took each step carefully. Armin went first, while Eren kept the flamethrower ready.
"Fuck this. I'm not staying around when that Black Dragon starts breathing fire." They heard footsteps stomping down the stairs. "Didn't sign up for this shit. Thought I'd be shooting Japs, not Heinies."
Eren whispered in warning, "Er kommt die Treppe runter." He's coming down the stairs.
Armin's gun was steady as he waited. As soon as he could see the soldier, he fired. The gun echoed through the stairwell, and the body tumbled down the stairs.
"What was that?" someone screamed.
"Nazis!"
They heard more stomping feet. This time, Eren came forward, kneeling on the landing in front of the stairs. As he saw the soldiers, he pulled the trigger. Flames burst out, and shrieks of agony filled the stairwell.
"Flamethrower!" one screamed in warning. "Shoot him!"
Bullets rang out. Armin fired, hitting one of the men flailing around with his uniform on fire.
Eren heard one bullet clang, and suddenly he was shoved face-down by a release of pressure. He felt wetness on his leg.
"Scheiße! Ich bin getroffen!" Shit! I'm hit!
Eren fell back and quickly unstrapped the flamethrower. The pressurized fuel spewed out, spinning the tank and flowing down the stairs.
"We got 'im!" someone yelled, but just then Armin shot again, and the American tumbled down the staircase, limply crashing onto the landing.
Armin turned to Eren in worry. "Bist du verletzt?" Are you hurt?
Eren looked down at the wet spots on his arm and leg. "Ich kann eine Weile keine Zigaretten rauchen." I can't smoke cigarettes for a while.
Someone upstairs shouted down. "Hey, Carsten! Did you get those Krauts?"
Eren again aimed his voice to an American accent, even deepening it to sound like the last man who had yelled. "Yep, got 'im."
Armin slowly peered up to the next stair landing. He looked back and nodded that all was clear. Eren pulled out his Luger, and the two crept up to the top floor.
They saw a hallway and two doors. Obviously, the Germans were on one side, Americans on the other, but which? By just the sound of bullets, they could not tell which were Lugers and which were Colts. Eren shook his head in frustration. He remembered Levi was once able to tell a Webley by just the sound of a single bullet. He wished he had that talent.
Just as Eren was trying to figure this out, he saw someone throw a rag-stuffed gas can into the next room. It burst into flames, and finally they heard Thomas and Fritz scream.
"Thomas!" Eren shouted.
"Herr Oberleutnant!" Thomas yelled back.
The Americans peeked around the door. "Shit, it's more Nazis!"
They opened fire on them. Eren and Armin dropped as bullets flew just above their heads.
Eren looked over to Armin. "Gib mir Deckung, ich gehe rein." Cover me, I'm going in.
"Pass auf die Flammen auf." Watch out for those flames.
While Armin fired rapidly at the Americans to prevent them from looking around the corner, Eren got low and slid down the hall. He could hear the screams of his men in the fire, and he sneered. Like hell would he let them burn!
He reached the doorway, motioned Armin to stop shooting, and when an American slipped around the corner Eren instantly shot him. Another American shouted to his buddy, but Eren whipped around the doorframe. The man was on the short side, stocky, with black hair dripping with sweat from his helmet. Eren grabbed the gun right out of the man's stunned hand, tossed it aside, and got in close before the soldier could lunge for his weapon. His Luger pressed right into the man's gut.
"Got 'im," Eren said in a taunt.
The soldier's hazel eyes went wide as he realized the deceit. "You bastard…"
Eren pulled the trigger. The explosion shook the man's entire body. He stared at Eren, shocked, terrified, and angry all at once.
"You won't win, you Nazi piece of shit. You … won't win…"
"No," Eren agreed. "But I'll send you to Hell first."
His gun went higher, and he shot the man in the heart. Blood burst out, and the man immediately began to go limp. Eren first took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, slightly wet from blood.
"Thanks for these," he said. Then Eren shoved him to the ground and turned away as the man convulsed with blood pooling around him.
"Momma," the American soldier called out quietly, and Eren paused. "I don't wanna die, Momma. Just wanted to make you proud. Jesus, forgive me. I don't wanna die."
Eren's eyes slammed shut. Yes, this was definitely worse than Anzio. He didn't have to listen to the enemy die back then.
He stepped over the body of the other soldier and went out into the hallway. The room across the way was on fire.
"Thomas, Franz?" he yelled.
"We're still here," said Thomas. "We can't get out."
"Hannah!" Franz cried out. "I'm sorry for not being faithful, Hannah."
"Get it together!" Eren yelled. "Can you leap through the flames?"
"What?" they both yelled in shock.
"You'll get scorched, but at least you won't burn to death."
Armin came forward and looked at the inferno. "I saw a drinking fountain down the hall. I'll get water to put them out." He grabbed Eren's arm that still had fuel on it. "Stay away from those flames."
"I know," he said, and Armin took off in a rush. "Thomas, trust me. We'll have water. Just run through the flames as fast as you can, then drop to the ground and—"
Suddenly, something exploded. Eren was blasted backward, slammed into the far wall, and all the wind was knocked out of him. His ears rang so loudly, for many seconds he heard nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat. Then faintly he heard Armin yelling for him. His vision was black, then spotty, and slowly it cleared up.
"Eren!"
"Lobov! Carsten! Cap says we gotta get out of here, ASAP. Are you still … oh shit!"
Eren heard gunfire. Armin! He shook out the shock. Whatever the hell that explosion was, they needed to get out of there. He looked forward, but where Thomas and Franz were, he saw blue sky and smoke. There was not even a room left.
"Thomas?" he whispered in horror. "Franz?"
Was he seeing things? Where did the room go?
Barely thinking, he ran forward, but then something slammed into the back of his head. He felt like his eyeballs might pop out from the sheer force of the hit, but Eren still focused ahead. Where were his men? What happened to this room?
The blast!
"Nein!" he screamed.
Then he heard another gun blast and felt another hit to his head, this time knocking him flat down. Something wet was dripping down his neck. He struggled to stay conscious. Was he shot? His head hurt so much.
He heard Armin shouting for him, more gunfire behind him, but all he could do was lie there, eyes getting blurry.
"T- … Tho- … Thomas…"
Part of what used to be a room was still engulfed in flames, and they crept closer. Eren felt his damp sleeve suddenly catch on fire.
"Nein," he seethed, hitting the fiery sleeve to the ground. "Verdammt noch mal, nein!" He screamed as his arm burned and he could feel his skin sizzling.
He needed to roll. He needed to get out of that room, but Eren felt consciousness slipping as his arm went up like a torch.
Was this divine retribution for burning those men?
There was another massive explosion, this one further away, but the whole ground shook. A second later, a gush of cold wind from a shockwave blasted the flames right at him. Eren barely managed to put his face down, although he felt blistering on his neck and could smell burned hair.
With a creak and a groan, the room in front of him crumbled more. Eren watched as the fiery floor just ahead of him cracked apart and fell, like tumbling into Hades. He looked down at three stories of debris with smoke and fire below.
Was this how he was going to die?
No! He had to live!
"No matter the price," he whispered. Levi's face floated through his mind through the flames. "No matter … the price!"
Just then, water dumped on him, and the blistering skin felt soothing relief. Armin had filled his helmet with water. As the flame refused to go out on Eren's uniform, Armin yanked him up and ripped off the fuel-drenched sleeve, tossing it out into that perilous void.
"Eren? Eren, can you hear me?"
Wet, shivering with the shock of pain, ears thrumming, he looked up and tried to focus on Armin's bright blue eyes. "Armin," he whispered. His head lulled over onto his shoulder. "Thanks."
Armin looked over him with astonishment. "How are you alive?" He shook off the shock. "We need to go."
"No. Thomas and Franz."
"It's too late. They … They fell."
Eren looked ahead at the demolished room. "Maybe they're downstairs," he mumbled.
Armin flinched. Did Eren not realize what just happened? Thomas and Franz just took a direct hit with an artillery shell. There was no way they could have survived. Still, he smiled through the painful grief.
"Sure. Maybe they're down there. We'll check."
Eren rubbed his brow. "My head hurts." Hot wetness dripped down through his hair and tickled the edge of his neck. Something was scratching him on the scalp hard enough to cut skin.
Eren yanked his helmet off, and that was when he saw something that shook him to the core. A bullet had pierced his helmet but only partially penetrated. The bullet was still lodged in. Eren felt the back of his scalp and flinched. The bullet got close enough to cut his scalp, but it had not pierced it. Just a millimeter more… Another bullet had ripped a chunk of metal out of the side of his helmet, barely missing him.
Lucky not just once, but twice!
"What are the odds?" Eren muttered to himself.
"I'll calculate it for you after we're out of here," said Armin. "We need to go before the whole building collapses." Eren was still looking at the lodged bullet in awe. Armin flinched as he saw the damage. Softly, he said, "I saw you getting shot in the head twice. I was … I was so certain you were dead." Armin could not keep the emotions out of his voice.
Eren looked over at him, and a genuine smile lifted his lips. "My true luck is having a man like you to fight by my side." He pulled the helmet back on, no longer caring that the lodged bullet scratched his scalp. "I think I went through all my luck for the rest of the century today."
Armin had to hoist Eren up off the floor, and Eren held onto the wall. Perhaps his helmet save him from a bullet, but the hit jarred his brain. His vision kept blacking out, and he felt like the whole building was tipping. Maybe it was.
"What was that?" Eren muttered as he stumbled toward the stairwell. "A tank?"
Armin held his arm as Eren wavered on his feet. "That was no tank shell. I still vividly remember that sound from Anzio. A 240 mm howitzer." His brow tightened. "I still have nightmares of it."
"Howitzer," Eren whispered. "That's what the radio was warning about. The Amis are going to shell the whole damn town."
Eren felt sick. This place was someone's home. Did the Americans not even care?
They came to the stairs, now littered with bodies, some still burning. As Eren went down the steps, he stayed far away from the flames, worried that other parts of his fuel-soaked uniform might catch on fire. Although his head was still throbbing and his vision blurry, Eren managed to hold onto the handrail to make his way down.
Another blast hit, and it felt like the whole building tilted to the side. Armin stumbled down the stairs, and Eren fell on top of him. He rolled off, sat on the ground, and rubbed his brow.
"My head really … really hurts," he admitted.
Armin sat up and looked over him. "You likely have a concussion. Maybe worse. Your helmet saved you from a bullet, but it won't save you from kinetic energy."
"You and your big words," Eren teased with a weary laugh. Suddenly, he hissed as his brain finally let in signals of pain, and he looked down at his sleeveless arm. The skin was red with puffy blisters. Funny how that had stopped hurting in the rush of adrenaline. "That's going to be a nasty scar," he grumbled.
Armin got up and reached his hand out to Eren. "Come on. We need to get out of this building."
Eren took Armin's hand, yanked himself up, but he swayed on his feet. Armin quickly held him steady.
"I'm … I'm gonna … pass out," Eren whispered as the world went black for a moment.
"Not until we get outside."
Eren forced himself onward. Armin held onto him, looking at Eren with worry. The blistered skin was bad enough, but he dreaded to think how much brain damage he might have.
Finally, they reached the bottom, but the way was blocked with debris. They crawled on top of a portion of the collapsed building and squeezed through to get out of the stairwell.
All around him, Eren could hear the building creaking, ready to tumble. He and Armin stepped carefully over mounds of debris until they made it outside into the sunlight. Eren rushed around to the corner where Thomas and Franz would have been, and then he came to a sharp stop.
Any hopes he had that they merely fell and would be safe were gone. Armin came up beside him and flinched in anguish. They both saw an arm sticking up out of the fiery debris, broken and twisted grotesquely, with the German uniform slowly being consumed by flames. Still, Eren went up to the pile.
"Thomas? Franz?" he called out. "Are you there? Shout if you're alive." There was no response.
Armin walked up beside him and lowered his head. "We tried. We need to go."
Eren cringed in anguish. The tears burned the cuts and scorching on his face. Thomas had dreams of running his family's restaurant. Franz had a wife and a baby on the way. Why them? Why did men like them, with such high hopes and grand futures, have to be sent to a war like this? Someone like him, with no family and no ambitions besides serving his country: that was one thing, but someone like Thomas…
Just then, they saw the fiery trail of a howitzer shell shoot past them, and as their eyes followed the path, they saw its aim was for the town hall. The concrete building burst apart, and debris rained down.
"Shit! Moblit! I sent them back to the town hall." Eren began to head down the street.
"No, you need a medic."
"I'm fine!"
"You definitely have a concussion, and your arm…"
"I'm fine!"
Seconds later, another bone-rattling explosion shook the air as an artillery shell struck the train station right across the street from them. Eren and Armin had to raise their arms to shield themselves from the debris. Eren looked at the building in horror. The roof was completely gone, the entire second story collapsed down into the shell of the brick walls.
Eren stared in shock. "That was close."
Just then, the tall building behind them began to tilt. Armin grabbed Eren by his good arm.
"Run!"
They frantically ran as the whole building creaked, crumbled, and pieces fell all around them. Eren felt pieces of brick and cement hitting him as a deafening groan pierced the air. Then suddenly Armin was hit in the head by a massive chunk of concrete and went down.
"Armin!"
Eren dropped on top of him, shielding him as the building continued to crumble. Dust choked the air, and although he felt pieces hit his back, he shielded Armin. Finally, the rumbling stopped. Eren sat up, and he saw a massive dent in the back of Armin's helmet.
"Armin?"
He was not moving. Fearful, Eren rolled him over. Blood poured down his slack face.
"Armin! Wake up. Come on, wake up, dammit!" he yelled, shaking him, but Armin did not respond. "No. Not you. I refuse to lose you!"
He felt Armin's throat, and thankfully he still felt a pulse. He checked for breathing. Although shallow, his chest was still moving. Eren looked around frantically. There was another comet of fire as a shell from the howitzer pierce across the whole length of the town and blasted apart anything it hit. He looked back at the building Thomas and Franz had been in, but not even that broken limb was visible now.
He needed to get out of there.
Ignoring his own pains, Eren grabbed Armin's arms and hoisted his limp body up onto his back. Slowly, he went down the street, dragging Armin's feet behind him as his head bled onto Eren's shoulder.
He trudged past building after building, along a street that he hoped avoided the path of the howitzer. He kept his eyes focused on the south. If he could reach the slag pile, he could get Armin to a medic.
He just had to keep walking.
"Eren!"
He heard running feet, and Connie jogged up to him.
"What happened to Armin?" Then he saw Eren's helmet, ripped sleeve, and blistered arm. "Oh my God! What happened to you?"
"He needs a medic."
"You need a medic." Connie pulled Armin over onto his shoulders. "I'll take him. You just keep walking. Seriously, were you inside that building when it came down?"
"We … We made it out." Eren's vision began to blur.
"Oh no, no, no. I can't carry you both, and I'm not about to be put into a situation where I have to choose him over you."
Eren laughed weakly. "You'd choose him, huh?"
"Well, obviously," said Connie. "Armin's smart; you're just lucky. Now, with all due respect, keep walking or I'll kick your ass down the street."
Eren trudged on, holding onto his head as he stumbled but continued forward. His head throbbed. His ears sometimes faded into deafness. He must have passed out at one point, because suddenly he was on the ground with Connie kicking him in the side, shouting at him, pleading for him to get up and keep going. Barely conscious, he managed to get back up.
It felt like he was in a dream, standing but not feeling his feet, walking in a nightmare world with his ears muffled and vision blurred. Everything swayed, like that building had swayed. Everything burned, like his arm as he reached out to Thomas and Franz. Tears ran down his face and stung a dozen cuts.
"-ger. Oberleutnant Jäger!"
He jolted. He was still upright, but he had not seen Jarnach join them. He blinked in confusion. Were they at the slag pile already?
Jarnach pulled Eren's good arm up over his broad shoulders. "The medics are right ahead, sir."
"Moblit," he muttered. "We … We need to find Moblit and the others."
"We can send a search party after the Amis stop their attack."
Eren nodded. A search party. Good. Find his men. Bring them home. That was all that mattered.
Someone was talking, but his ears went deaf again. His vision blurred and darkened. He thought he heard Connie and Jarnach call out to him, but nothing felt real. Then suddenly hands grabbed him. Eren shouted in pain, and it all cleared up for a moment of lucidity.
"They're medics, sir," said Jarnach. "They'll take care of you."
He saw the men with large red crosses on their helmets. "Help Armin," he muttered. "He at least has to live. That's an order. Help him."
Finally, the blackness swallowed him up, shadows swept him away from the pain, and Eren could finally escape the brutal sounds of war.
# # #
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Dieter, Jurgen, and Ivan – These three made a brief appearance in AOT Episode 22. In the scene, Dieter and Jurgen wanted to retrieve the body of their friend, Ivan. Levi scolded them, "Whether you have the body, dead is dead. It won't change anything." Going against orders, Dieter and Jurgen rode off and got Ivan's dead body. They were chased by Titans, Ivan's body got knocked off the horse, and Jurgen was eaten. Just as Dieter was about to be eaten, Mikasa killed the Titan holding him. Their actions caused more Titans to come, and Levi made the call to dump all the bodies, including Petra's, so the wagons could outrun the Titans. Afterward, Levi gave the traumatized Dieter a Scout Regiment badge, claiming it was Ivan's, and said this was proof that he lived. Dieter rode the rest of the way back to Wall Rose in a cart, sobbing for his lost friends.
Shave and a Haircut – This little tune dates back to the late 1800s and was common by the 1930s. During WWII, Korea, and the Vietnam War, Americans used Shave and a Haircut as a shibboleth (a password known to one culture). If they knocked the "Shave and a haircut" part, and the person next to them knocked back "Two bits," then they knew it was truly an American.
John Miller – The dead American was named in honor of the fictional Captain John H. Miller, played by Tom Hanks in Saving Private Ryan.
Nicknames – Fritz and Heinie are diminutives for Friedrich and Heinrich. The nicknames were used by Allies during both World Wars. Fritz was more common in the UK, while Canadians used Heinie. Americans began to use the Canadian Heinie but sometimes spelled it "Hiney," a slang for buttocks. More common in America (and still used pejoratively today) was the word "Kraut," based on the German navy handing out sauerkraut on their ships to prevent scurvy, much like how Americans call the British "Limeys" for passing out limes on ships.
Lucky Strike – Americans got a 4-pack of cigarettes with their daily rations, and many cigarette brands fought for the honor of getting soldiers addicted for life. Lucky Strike was one of the biggest. At the time, American doctors believed cigarettes were good for your health, although German doctors had already linked smoking to lung cancer.
Flammenwerfer 41 (FmW 41) – Designed in 1941, this flamethrower had two horizontal tanks that strapped onto the user's back: one held Flammöl 19 (a mix of petrol and tar), the other was a Nitrogen tank used as a propellant. The tar in Flammöl 19 made the fuel stick to anything it touched, so it would continue to burn with devastating effects.
240 mm howitzer M1 – the most powerful weapon deployed by U.S. field artillery units during World War II; it could fire a 160 kg/360 lb high explosive projectile 23 km/14.3 miles. Its first operational use was by the U.S. 5th Army at the Anzio Beachhead in Italy in January 1944. (So, Eren and Armin are WELL ACQUAINTED with this heavy artillery!)
Getting shot in the helmet – Bullets getting lodged in helmets? Happens more often than you would think! Helmets save lives, kids.
- https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1220903/Miracle-escape-soldier-shot-head-bullet-gets-stuck-helmet.html
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The Battle of Maizières-lès-Metz: Conclusion
On October 28, 1944, after a month of fighting and experimenting with various tactics for urban warfare, General van Fleet ordered Colonel Barth to pull his men back; he was calling in the BIG guns to dislodge the last German fighters who had taken refuge in the Maizières-lès-Metz town hall.
The town hall was utterly pulverized by 240 mm howitzers (AKA "The Black Dragon") firing from outside the city. It reduced the village to a few gutted ruins and piles of stone.
After the artillery shelling, the American soldiers rushed en masse to the town hall, but all they found were German corpses.
They spent two more days rooting out the last few German entrenchments. By the evening of October 30th, Maizières-lès-Metz was liberated by the American 3rd Army. The 357th Infantry Regiment held the town, or at least what was left of it. General Patton personally visited to savor his victory.
The German losses were heavy, with an entire battalion of the 462nd Volksgrenadier Division being decimated. Meanwhile, the Americans lost only 55 men. (And in my story, Eren just killed, like, 15 of them, haha! This is fiction, after all.)
In total, 710 buildings were destroyed: the town hall, train station, schools, churches, fire department, municipal heritage building, and 350 civilian houses and apartments.
Although the inhabitants of Maizières-lès-Metz fled before the battle began, they returned to find nothing more than piles of blasted stones and gutted buildings splattered with blood. One in four of the 4,000 inhabitants lost their homes. It would take ten years to build enough housing for everyone, and decades to reconstruct their town.
That is the brutal reality of urban warfare that history books don't bother to talk about. The city doesn't miraculously respawn after the battle is over. The armies move on to the next town, and the residents are left homeless, often without jobs, forced to rebuild their businesses from the rubble, and struggling to repair their once beloved home.
…
Writing a story about these battles and getting the real history accurate was NOT easy, so a big thanks to the people who made these websites, detailing the battles of Fort Driant and Maizières-lès-Metz, as well as maps and many minor details that I got to work into the story, like the Germans burning mattresses to push Americans out of the town hall.
- http://www.ibiblio.org/hyperwar/USA/USA-E-Lorraine/USA-E-Lorraine-6.html
- https://warfarehistorynetwork.com/2019/01/21/battle-of-metz-pattons-bloody-fortress-battle
- https://nationalinterest.org/blog/buzz/one-battle-proved-why-general-george-patton-legend-99277
- https://nationalinterest.org/blog/buzz/fortress-forfeited-how-general-patton-seized-major-nazi-stronghold-141832
Hans, Get Ze Flammenwerfer!
A little extra about flamethrowers, because I did a TON of research for that one scene. I really wanted Eren using the flamethrower to be iconic. (Fan art, anyone?)
The modern flamethrower was invented in 1901, using a mixture of pressurized gas and Flammöl (literally "flame oil"), and sold to the Kaiser Army. German shocktroops used them during the First World War to such traumatizing effects, they were banned under the 1919 Treaty of Versailles.
In 1935, Hitler repudiated the treaty and immediately began to manufacture flamethrowers, starting with the Flammenwerfer 35 (FmW 35). It weighed 35.8 kg (79 lb), held 11.8 liters (2.6 imp gal; 3.1 US gal) of fuel, and had a range of 25 meters (82 feet). The FmW 35 was a key weapon during the 1940 Battle of France.
The Flammenwerfer 41 (FmW 41) was modified from the FmW 35, making it lighter in weight (22 kg, or 48 lbs) and a longer range (32 meters, or 105 feet). After the hydrogen pilot light routinely failed in the cold regions of the Eastern Front, the Germans copied the Soviet ignition blanks, coming up with an even lighter-weight 18 kg Flammenwerfer mit Strahlpatrone 41 with a magazine of 10 ignition cartridges. This model is recognizable by a second tube mounted to the flame rod.
Wielding a flamethrower carried more danger than an average soldier. You had a huge, heavy canister of flammable liquid strapped onto you, making you a nice, shiny target for snipers. The range of a flamethrower was limited, so it was close-combat fighting. A captured flamethrower operator was executed on the spot. There was no surrender and Prison of War treatment for such soldiers.
Due to the dangers, flamethrower operators worked in a team, 3-5 men, with the team guarding the operator so he could get close enough to where the flames were needed.
Because flamethrowers were targets for snipers, Germans later modified the trigger and muzzle to look like an infantry rifle, and the tanks were painted canvas-beige to look like it was merely a backpack, in an attempt to disguise users and prevent them from being singled out by enemy snipers.
Although it carried immense risk, Germany, Italy, Japan, Britain, Australia, Finland, the United States, and the Soviet Union all used flamethrowers, especially in close combat situations like the Battle of Metz.
Unlike what you'll see in games and movies, a personal flamethrower has only about 10 seconds of continuous use. This wasn't a weapon you could run around with, setting enemies on fire, "Hans, get ze Flammenwerfer" style. It was meant to clear out bunkers, flush out enemies, and set fire to buildings. It was a lot of work for 10 seconds of fun.
Another Hollywood myth: if the fuel canister was shot, you would NOT go up in a massive fireball. Instead, the pressurized fuel would spray out with enough force to shove the operator forward, tripping them. The fuel was sticky, so an operator who tripped and fell could get the fuel on their uniform. That's not great, but not deadly. However, some soldiers trying to take down a flamethrower also used incendiaries to light the fuel on fire. THAT would be really bad news, but no "flamethrower go boom" explosions, sorry to disappoint.
It took until the 1980s for the UN to make it a war crime to use flamethrowers against enemy combatants under the Convention on Certain Conventional Weapons Protocol III: Incendiary Weapons. (Specifically, you can burn down fields but not people.) However, flamethrowers are legal for civilian purchase in the United States, since they are defined as tools, not weapons. (Indeed, my family has used them to burn the fields.) Well, unless you live in California, because those guys catch on fire when a squirrel sneezes!
Just a note: I kept coming across discrepancies about the FmW 41, both in appearance and weight. Wikipedia actually listed it as 18 kg and 22 kg at different parts of the article. Since many of the historic weapons sites I found directly copied their info from Wikipedia, I couldn't easily figure out which was correct. I dug around and finally found an explanation for the discrepancy, that it was a re-design after the pilot light kept failing in Russia. Of all places, this was on Internet Movie Firearms Database. (My husband and I love that site when there are cool weapons in movies.) Why was this on IMFDB? Because the FmW 41 was used in the movie The Pianist.
- https://warfarehistorynetwork.com/2018/12/17/wwii-weapons-flamethrowers-of-the-wehrmacht
- https://www.militaryfactory.com/smallarms/detail.php?smallarms_id=718
- http://www.imfdb.org/wiki/Flammenwerfer_41
- https://www.historynet.com/arms-men-flammenwerfer
- https://treaties.un.org/doc/Publication/MTDSG/Volume%20II/Chapter%20XXVI/XXVI-2.en.pdf
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