Sticks & Stones, Will Break Your Bones.

[☠ Kyle Steinbeck]

Time:[/b] 2045hrs
Weather:[/b] Dry and Clear skies - Chilly, but not freezing.

OOC: Open for one or two members to join. No more. Thank you!


“Bewegen Sie es! Bewegen Sie es!”[/I] yelled a SS-Unterscharführer, as he dropped down from the back of an opel blitz truck, his rifle clasped between both hands, holding it against his torso, as to not accidentally catch any of his comrades as they befell from the truck behind him; Soon followed by what seemed to be Wehrmacht prisoners, still dressed in their shabby field green uniforms, as if they had been picked straight off the frontlines or barely had a chance to change their outfits.

The SS-Unterscharführer flagged his hand out to several SS-Schützes who’d been assigned the duty to participate within the evening’s events, yelling; “Raum! Behalten Sie Ihre Gewehre am bereiten”, that instinctively in turn made the soldiers clunk their bolts upon the stocks into place, loading their rifles precariously to what may happen or worse still, what they may be asked to do. Soon after, their hardened jackboots clacked against the stone pavement beneath the treads of their feet, as their bodies sprawled out into more spacious positions, surrounding their prisoners who - by now, had their hands placed against the backs of their heads, worriedly bunching up against one another, not quite knowing what to expect.

A kublewagen ahead of the opel blitz truck used to haul the prisoners and soldiers, soon became apparent to everyone, as the headlights came on, lighting up the small encirclement of soldiers within the street ahead. The passenger door opened slowly, almost instantaneously, with a silhouette emerging from the automobile; due to the beam of lights cascaded amongst the soldiers, they were merciless to see who was approaching. “ SS-Unterscharführer, lassen Sie die Gefangenen ihrer Feldtuniken berauben. Der wehrmacht kann sie zurück wollen” a voice allured from the dark, causing the SS-Unterscharführer to stiffen up, unable to see whether the orders were from an officer or a petty soldier messing around, but his curiosity was soon appeased, when the silhouette approached calmly, after closing the passenger door.

“Heer Obersturmführer! - Sie hörten den Offizier, sie ihrer Tuniken berauben lassen!”[/I] the SS-Unterscharführer bellowed out to his subordinates, as two of them voluntarily broke from their duty-line to shoulder their rifles and rough handily shove the prisoners against the side of the truck, yelling at them to comply, which most of them done from fear anyway. Yanking their field green tunics off, one by one, whilst the rest of the cautious soldiers stood on the sidelines, rifles cocked to teach any heroes or fleeing cowards, the SS-Obersturmführer stood aside the SS-Unterscharführer to watch patiently. Comfortably he took wind of the moment to slip out a thin silver case, opening it briefly to shake out three cigarettes into his left palm, before snapping the case shut and replacing it back into his inner pocket.

Once the two soldiers had ridden the prisoners of their German tunics, SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck whistled to catch their attention and collar his hand up towards them. “Sie zwei, Brechung die rechte Hand jedes Gefangenen, will ich nicht, dass diese Verräter denken, dass sie uns einschalten können, wenn wir es am wenigsten erwarten. Es gibt eine Zigarette für das Paar von Ihnen, nachdem Sie das getan haben” he foretold the two soldiers, who deviously grinned to look at one another, seeming like they’d enjoy the orders given to them. SS-Obersturmführer sighed vaguely to himself, as he pushed the two cigarettes against the SS-Unterscharführer’s chest for him to hold. “Geben Sie ihnen ihre Zigaretten, als sie beendet haben, und wenn Sie sich eine Zigarette verdienen mögen, gehen Sie Abruf meine Waffe vom Fahrzeug. Es ist auf dem Rücksitz. Oh und bringen Sie meine Aktentasche” he said with a smirk, sliding out another cigarette he’d kept between the nimble fingers upon his adjacent hand, to push the cigarette against the SS-Unterscharführer’s lips. Patting him on the cheek afterwards.

The SS-Unterscharführer stared angrily for a moment, but soon complied to the orders, as he hurried off to the vehicle, knowing that earning a cigarette from it, was far better than getting nothing. Patiently watching the two soldiers manhandle each prisoner in turn, Kyle couldn’t help but smile to himself, quite not knowing why he was enjoying every moment of their suffering? It almost felt, powerful. His eyes lisped over the two men, as they yanked each prisoner’s right arm out to hold against the hard brain of the truck, whilst the other soldier raised his rifle to shoulder height, stomping down their rifle butts against the wrist and hand of each prisoner in line. The noise of the wood crunching against the shattered ligaments and bones was almost cringing, yet joyful; particularly the embellished yearns of pain that came from each of the scum’s mouths.


Translations:[/b]

Bewegen Sie es! Bewegen Sie es
- Move it! Move it!

Raum! Behalten Sie Ihre Gewehre am bereiten.
- Space out! Keep your rifles at the ready.

SS-Unterscharführer, lassen Sie die Gefangenen ihrer Feldtuniken berauben. Der wehrmacht kann sie zurück wollen.
- SS-Unterscharführer, have the prisoners stripped of their field tunics. The wehrmacht may want them back.

Heer Obersturmführer! - Sie hörten den Offizier, sie ihrer Tuniken berauben lassen!
- Heer Obersturmführer! -- You heard the officer, have them stripped of their tunics!

Sie zwei, Brechung die rechte Hand jedes Gefangenen, will ich nicht, dass diese Verräter denken, dass sie uns einschalten können, wenn wir es am wenigsten erwarten. Es gibt eine Zigarette für das Paar von Ihnen, nachdem Sie das getan haben.
- You two, break every prisoner's right hand, I do not want these traitors to think they can turn on us when we least expect it. There is a cigarette for the pair of you after you have done this.

Geben Sie ihnen ihre Zigaretten, als sie beendet haben, und wenn Sie sich eine Zigarette verdienen mögen, gehen Sie Abruf meine Waffe vom Fahrzeug. Es ist auf dem Rücksitz. Oh und bringen Sie meine Aktentasche.
- Give them their cigarettes when they have finished and if you wish to earn yourself a cigarette, go fetch my weapon from the vehicle. It's on the back seat. Oh and bring my briefcase.

[deutschlandschutze]

Cold metal touched Dietrich's fingertips as he grasped his rifle tighter. The air was chilly and a slight breeze breathed across his face, raising goose bumps across his tanned skin. A shiver ran down his spine, he tried to control it and remain still but it over came him and he shook visibly. The other SS soldiers were lined up next to him watching the prisoners' wrists being broken one at a time.

Dietrich grimaced at the crack of each one and tried to think of something else. There he saw Helene, standing in a field pciking flowers. He saw her face once again as it smiled shyly at him. Her blue eyes galncing down childishly, brought warm feelings swelling inside of him. His hand ran through her brown hair and marveled at how delicate she was.

Dietrich opened his eyes at a sharp pain in his side. The elbow of the soldier next to him was withdrawing to its former position. Dietrich realized he had been slouching and not paying attention. He blinked hard a couple of times, trying to revive his brain. It had been a long day. A long couple of days for that matter. He had gotten no more than two three hours of sleep the previous night and now he was here doing God knew what.

Dietrich's eyes drifted to the cigarette in the SS-Unterscharführer's hand. His eyes alighted on the small object longingly. He had smoked but once in his life after joining the SS and generally detested it. However, now he was cold enough and tired enough not to care. Things in his mind were anything but clear at the moment. He pondered at the look on the SS-Obersturmführer's face as the prisoners were abused. How could anyone enjoy such a thing as this?

Joining the Waffen-SS was a way to be one of the best without having the detestable position or status as the Algemeine-SS yet the cruelty had seemed to infiltrate both branches. Considerably less in the Waffen granted, but it was still there undeniably.

A mesquito landed on his neck and he felt the tingle of its small legs. His left hand arced up and smashed the small insect as it slapped into his throat. The weight of his helmet felt like a load of bricks, slowly weakening the muscles of his fatigued neck. A bed. That sounded heavenly to his mind and his heart seemed to warm in anticipation. Quickly quenched it was however, when a breeze shifted the air across his face and returned him again to the cruel reality of things.

His tiredness had lended nothing to goodwill and he had become quite distempered. The helpful nudge of his companion had become an uneccesary jab in the ribs. Each second that he had to stand in this miserable place he became more and more agitated. His feelings could not be expressed in the military however, especially towards officers. Which in this case was the chief reason for the delay. If only he wouldn't take so long.

The SS-Unterscharführer circled around the truck to get something or other. Finally. Dietrich blinked again. The two men had finished their grim business of breaking the prisoners' wrists and had taken their place back in the line. The officer returned from around the truck holding a briefcase and weapon. He couldn't tell what sort of thing the weapon was nor what the nature of the briefcase was. Exchanging the items for a cigarette, the man stood contently by the SS-Obersturmführer. Almost as an after thought he beckoned the two schutze's to him.

Each man recieved a cigarette and returned to the line of men. Dietrich shot a glance toward the SS-Obersturmführer to see what he was doing. Curiosity began to replace his agitation and now that things were rolling, the night didn't seem to be that horrible after all. Dietrich shifted his grib on the k98 and awaited further orders.