Finally, the perfect angle—the crest of the hill gives you a perfect vantage point to photograph the German defensive line. It's risky business, to be sure, but newspapers will give you some big bucks for these photos. And besides, the Jerries probably can't afford to go snooping around the hills for people like you—they're probably on the lookout for incoming planes or tanks instead.
You're able to snap some photos of the distant defensive line. StuGs and other self-propelled guns lie in wait. You've seen SPG divisions before, but this one seems haphazardly diverse, including a few types you've never seen before. Perhaps they're getting desperate. Nonetheless, it's good photography material. You snap more photos, including some of crews rearming or refueling the armored beasts.
Further still into the distance you see some tanks advancing to a forward position. They look like Tigers, but with sloped armor and a ludicrously long gun. You crouch and steady yourself to take a good photo, and...
"Halten."
You stop in your tracks as your blood runs cold. "Ich... nicht, um, Soldat!" you sputter out, trying to find the right words.
"Dreh dich langsam um," commands the... female voice?
You don't know those words. "Um... sprechen Deutsche nicht..."
"Turn around, Schweinhund," the German snarled. "Slowly."
You comply, raising your hands. As you turn, you notice that, indeed, the voice belongs to a woman. She's clad in, oddly enough, the sleek black uniform of the SS. Curly cherry-blonde hair spills out of her skull-marked hat, and she leers at you with piercing blue eyes. She's pointing a pistol at you, but she lowers it and her eyes relax a bit.
Are they so desperate that they're recruiting women?
The officer laughs before approaching you. She cups your face with her hand and coos "Vhat is a boy like you doing out here?"
"Don't... don't hurt me," you mutter out. "I'm just a photographer.
"I von't," she whispers, ticking you with her hot breath. "...If you do vhat I say."