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Erich Hartmann. | Messerschmitt Bf 109 G-6,9./JG 52, | 24. August 1944.

(Rumor that Hartmann might get transferred)

Krupinski: You’re not allowed to leave this Gruppe.

Hartmann: I don’t think it works that way.

Krupinski: I found you, I trained you, I crashed next to you; you’re under warranty.

Operations officer: Any questions about the plan?

Mölders: Yes. Why is “don’t get shot down” written three times?

Steinhoff: Statistically, someone needs the reminder.

(Everyone slowly turns to Marseille at the end of the table.)

Marseille: Hey, I only ran out of fuel twice this week.

(Night, everyone freezing in their bunks)

Hartmann: I can’t feel my feet.

Krupinski: That’s because you stole my blanket and I stole yours.

Hartmann: That doesn’t make any sense.

Hrabak: Welcome to the Eastern Front. Nothing does.

(Thaw season. The airfield is mud.)

Krupinski: We no longer operate an air base. We operate a swamp.

Rall: It’s a combined arms experiment: aviation and bog warfare.

Krupinski: Who wants to hear how I almost got shot down twice in five minutes?

Barkhorn: No one.

Hartmann: I do.

Rall: I don’t, but I want to know how you’re still alive.

Hrabak: I came to check discipline.

Barkhorn: Better than our supply situation.

Rall: Which is the diplomatic way of saying “nonexistent.”

Hrabak: Excellent. I see the sarcasm levels are adequate.

Propaganda: We’d like some stirring statements for the newspapers.

Steinhoff: “It’s cold, the fuel is bad, and we’re very tired.”

Propaganda: …Something more uplifting.

Barkhorn: We haven’t all died yet?

Propaganda: I see I came to the wrong Gruppe.

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