"But," protested von Rath in astonishment, "you hold so few of our brave soldiers, compared to the vast numbers of yours who have deserted to our side! Moreover, you treat our men well because you know you must. Our Fuehrer has promised that the blood of each slain German will be avenged a hundred times over, nicht wahr?"
"Your Fuehrer," snorted Chuck, "is good at promises. He promised your army plenty of fuel oil, too. But you ain't got it yet. Trouble with Adolf is, he picked the wrong method of getting it, attacking the Russians. I know an easier way. All he had to do was build a pipeline from Berlin to the Baku oil-fields, and shove one end of the pipe in his mouth. If he could suck like he can blow, Germany would have more oil than the whole state of Texas!"
Von Rath stiffened, his eyes darting malice.
"That," he stormed, "is dirty democratic propaganda! Our Fuehrer is—"
"Was!" interrupted Steve.
"Eh?"
"Was," repeated Steve wearily, "not is. You two seem to have forgotten where we are. Stop fighting a war that was over fifteen centuries ago!"
Both men stopped wrangling abruptly, glanced at each other rather sheepishly. Chuck said, "Yeah. I guess you got something there, Steve," and von Rath said, "Ja, we have been foolish."
Even so, his defense of the Daans had reminded Steve again that even yet the Nazi was not altogether to be trusted.