Martin made his way carefully towards the lorry as the Englishmen called it. He tried to play this off as completely casual. Nothing the matter. The escape would need to be quick. He tried his best not to call attention to his face so anyone watching wouldn't be able to identify him. Basic fieldcraft really. Something he'd been told to use back in Canadian spy school as it were. He's got one foot on the back of the truck when he hears, "Oberstleutnant! Wait! Where are you going?" Martin loosened his coat abit and turned to look at a young soldier rushing over, gun lowered, looking winded abit and confused. It's Martin's driver from earlier, he had gone to an inn further into the town and had been spared the massacre. He made a motion to the more then likely blood thirsty cadre of spies, terrorists and traitors behind himself, asking them silently not to do anything.

Martin smiles, "Unteroffzier, glad to see you're okay. I am going with these men and women. We are going on a quick trip that was planned during the party." He looked at the young soldier, "I would appreciate it if you kept this to yourself young man. Can you do that?" The young soldier gulped, "But sir, I need to report this. It's imperative that a SS officer is kept track of sir." Martin sighs, "Are you sure about that my boy?" The sargeant nods, "I was afraid of that." He steps in grabbing the young man's hand pulling him in close, "I admire your dedication my boy. But it is very important that this does not reach anyone else."

There is a slither of leather on steel, the young man, barely a man really lets out a hiss and a gasp. And twenty three inches of steel slide into his chest, angled that it went right through his heart and out his back. Martin sighed, "I apologize young man, you didn't deserve this. But I cannot let you give his away." He lays the boy down, taking his hand in his own, patting it softly, "Rest well. You did not deserve this. When they find you, you will already be in gods hands." he pulled the blade out of the boys chest, cleaned it in the snow, then got to his, sliding the long blade away again, jumping up into the truck, "Tragic business that." He gasped as they pulled away, holding on for dear life as they raced off, plowing into reinforcements and ducking as they took fire.

He called forward, "I hope this isn't foreshadowing into what's going to happen later in this operation! If you're piloting the train, I think I'll walk home instead!" He grunted and rubbed his head as they hit something or someone that caused him to hop up in his seat and hit his head on one of the support spars in the back of the truck, "Ah...gah!"