“I was never an enlisted man,” Karl said, and picked up his glass. “Gentlemen, the late Oberst Grüner.”
Willi looked at him for a moment before touching his glass to his. “Papa,” he said.
“Oberst Grüner,” Peter said.
They drained their glasses. Willi immediately picked up the bottle and refilled them. “That was taken just before I was shot down,” he said. “During which process Hansel here saved my ass.”
“Excuse me?” Karl said.
“A Spitfire got me,” Willi said. “Sonofabitch came right out of the sun and did a real job on me. Took off the whole left stabilizer. And my engine, of course, was gloriously on fire. I didn’t think I was going to get out of the airplane.”
“And you said Peter—”
“Hansel got the Englishman, and then circled around me until he saw me safe on the ground.”
“I don’t understand,” Karl said.
Willi looked at him for a moment before speaking. “Some asshole who never flew anything but a desk got the idea that it would be a good idea—to keep parachuting Englanders from getting back into another airplane, you see—to make targets of them after they bailed out. And some of our guys were stupid enough to listen to him. The natural result of that—which apparently never occurred to our asshole—was that the English started shooting at us when we had to bail out.”
Karl looked as if he was about to say something but then changed his mind.
“You were a POW?”
“Oh, yeah. For four happy months.”
“You escaped?”
“The Old Man somehow arranged for me to be the escort officer when we exchanged seriously wounded,” Willi said.
“And what are you doing now?” Karl asked.
“I was hoping you’d ask, U-boat. Sorry, I can’t tell you. State secret.”
“You’re not flying anymore?”
“I didn’t say that,” Willi said, then turned to Peter.
“So tell me, Hansel, are you back for good, or are you going back to Argentina?”
“I’m going back to Argentina,” Peter said.
“And how is Argentina? And don’t tell me about the beef; the Old Man already did. You getting any?”
“Beef, you mean?”
Willi laughed. “You know what I mean, Hansel.”
“There are some very good-looking women in Argentina,” Peter said.
“The question was ‘Are you getting any?’”
“A gentleman never discusses his sex life,” Peter said.
“You’re not a gentleman, you’re a fighter pilot,” Willi said. “Or were.” He turned to Karl. “You ever been to Argentina, U-boat?”
“I’m going to Argentina very soon,” Karl said.
“To do what?”