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I was rereading Chapter 14 of Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart today. I adore the conversation between Ludwig and Alfred.
(Btw, I apologize if the SS jackets are inaccurate -- it's only a sketch, don't kill me!)

The story is by George deValier, not me.

Once outside the base, Ludwig lifted Jones onto his back, taking care to put the pressure on his unburnt side, and set off immediately down the long road. "Good work, Jones," he said breathlessly, wiping the sweat from his brow, feeling his blood thrum vibrantly beneath his skin, shoot tingling down his spine.

"German bases… terrible security… no wonder we're winning the war."

Ludwig could not be sure he had understood that correctly, though he felt massively reassured to hear it. "I could say the same about yours, you know." Ludwig did not bother to marvel at how they had made it out unhindered. Right now, he was at the stage of just taking everything as it came, and there was no need to fear, and no need to worry, because the only thing he could control was how far he could walk with this man on his back. There was perhaps a two hour walk ahead, depending how fast Ludwig could keep his speed up. Jones' head rested on Ludwig's shoulder, his arms clasped in Ludwig's hands. Ludwig took care not to apply too much pressure so close to the open wounds of Jones' mutilated fingers. "Nearly there, Jones. I'm taking you to the Italian resistance. They'll get you out of here. You're going home."

"Home," said Jones quietly. "Arthur…" He sighed softly, sounded like he was drifting. Ludwig knew he had to keep the American awake until he got to proper medical care. If he passed out with those injuries, there was too great a chance he would not wake up again.

"Who is Arthur?"

"Arthur is everything."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow. Well, who'd have thought. He had something in common with this American after all. "Tell me about Arthur."

"He can't play baseball. And he swears too much. And drinks too much. But he's perfect… and he doesn't know it…"

Description
I was rereading Chapter 14 of Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart today. I adore the conversation between Ludwig and Alfred.
(Btw, I apologize if the SS jackets are inaccurate -- it's only a sketch, don't kill me!)

The story is by George deValier, not me.

Once outside the base, Ludwig lifted Jones onto his back, taking care to put the pressure on his unburnt side, and set off immediately down the long road. "Good work, Jones," he said breathlessly, wiping the sweat from his brow, feeling his blood thrum vibrantly beneath his skin, shoot tingling down his spine.

"German bases… terrible security… no wonder we're winning the war."

Ludwig could not be sure he had understood that correctly, though he felt massively reassured to hear it. "I could say the same about yours, you know." Ludwig did not bother to marvel at how they had made it out unhindered. Right now, he was at the stage of just taking everything as it came, and there was no need to fear, and no need to worry, because the only thing he could control was how far he could walk with this man on his back. There was perhaps a two hour walk ahead, depending how fast Ludwig could keep his speed up. Jones' head rested on Ludwig's shoulder, his arms clasped in Ludwig's hands. Ludwig took care not to apply too much pressure so close to the open wounds of Jones' mutilated fingers. "Nearly there, Jones. I'm taking you to the Italian resistance. They'll get you out of here. You're going home."

"Home," said Jones quietly. "Arthur…" He sighed softly, sounded like he was drifting. Ludwig knew he had to keep the American awake until he got to proper medical care. If he passed out with those injuries, there was too great a chance he would not wake up again.

"Who is Arthur?"

"Arthur is everything."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow. Well, who'd have thought. He had something in common with this American after all. "Tell me about Arthur."

"He can't play baseball. And he swears too much. And drinks too much. But he's perfect… and he doesn't know it…"