Tomorrow will be just another day.
Hans. England. Forever.
These three words are the only ones running through my mind this evening, and I cannot sleep because of the shock and sadness which they bring me.
About 3 hours ago, you broke the tragic news to me over the radio in the back of Hubert Gruber's little tank. I have no idea as to what I'm going to tell General von Klinkerhoffen about your whereabouts; but I do know that he'd never believe me if I recounted the whole story about how we- on his orders, may I add- ended up in that Camp, while trying to keep an eye on René and his staff. Nor would he listen to the story of the failed escape attempt involving a see-saw type contraption. Oh Hans- I should never have forced you to be the guinea pig. If only I'd known what was to happen. As I look over at your empty bed, which is just as you left it- surrounded by photographs, records and books, I can't help but feel partly responsible for this whole situation.
A telegram has been sent on my behalf to Elise, saying that you volunteered for the Front, and are missing in action. Although devastating, I think that it would be best if she didn't know too much about our recent escapades. As I sat next to the radio, just after you had said your final farewell, an important thought came into my head. I may not have shown it, but there was never a day when I didn't feel proud to have you as a brother-in-law. You made my little sister so... oh, what's the word? I don't think that 'happy' goes far enough. Anyway- you were a perfect, loving husband for Elise, a wonderful father to Boris and Marlene, and a credit to our whole family.
I guess I should finish by saying that even though we had quite a few arguments towards the end, I could not have asked for a better assistant. Hans, I really am sorry that it had to turn out like this. Already, I miss the way your beady eyes would peer at me through those round-rimmed spectacles, and how your can't-be-bothered-to-salute attitude. Most of all, I'll miss those silly suggestions of yours. I had to yell at you for that sometimes, but deep down inside, I wanted to laugh out loud. Just thinking about all of this makes me well up. I know a man is not supposed to cry- but even balding Colonels have emotions.
Gute Nacht, Captain Hans Geering, wherever you are.
As I turn over and try to get back to sleep, I realise: tomorrow will be just another day.