Blood-red metal [Attila, Erik]

[Dieter "Iceman" Rentz]

Country: Belgium, the Ardennes
Current Time: 21th December, 1944, 16 a.m.
Weather Conditions: Very cold, the sky is filled with thick clouds, but the weather seems to be slowly clearing and the sun shows up every now and then.


The scarce, cheerless rays of sun made the snow on the branches of the trees and on the ground glisten like diamonds, filling the forest with harsh, yet serene beauty. The platoons of SS and Wehrmacht soldiers marching through the quiet forest didn't seem to fit in the middle of all of this and their steady advance broke the silence of the frozen forest. Nobody was complaining about the marching, it seemed to be the only thing keeping them warm in the biting cold air. Some of the men conversed with each other in low voices, talking about the patrol of Americans they had managed to capture just earlier, some wondering about the situation they were heading into, some just cursing the cold. The discussion was at least keeping them from getting too nervous and there was also something comforting in just marching on; after a while your mind drifted off, you could find yourself in some other place and other time and everything around you would just vanish. It was relaxing and made one forget about the blood and the cold, even if it was just for a small while.

Stabsgefreiter Rentz breathed out slowly, watching the small white cloud that formed in the air and soon disappeared. He, too, had let himself get lost in his thoughts as they marched on. Dieter wondered how things were back home now that his father had died. It had happened only some time ago and Dieter had gotten the news from his mother in a brief letter, only explaining the circumstances of the death. His mother knew that Dieter wasn't going to come back home even if he was granted some leave. For some reason he had found himself hardly caring about his father's death. His brother would be the one taking over their father's business once the war was over and this knowledge had made Dieter furious for a good while. It had actually caused him to react more strongly than the news of his father's death, which - he could only guess - must have been very wrong of him. Dieter was feeling that same anger bubbling inside him once again and he realized he needed something else to think about. He quickly let his mind wander back to sunny France and to a fiery blonde-haired girl he had met there. Dieter found himself smiling involuntarily at the thought of her and soon realized that one of the privates was looking at him with a puzzled expression. Dieter only smiled at him wider, just as if had been the most perfect day to march to one's death. The other soldier frowned, maybe figuring that the corporal had lost his mind and quickly averting his gaze, lest the madness take him over, too.

This little scene made Dieter all the more amused and he chuckled quietly. Somehow he just couldn't help but laugh at his current situation. Stuck in the middle of this frozen landscape with Waffen-SS, trying to lead a bunch of kids and old guys who only barely could pass out as soldiers. Having been assaulted by a bunch of black soldiers had made the whole day just that much stranger, not forgetting the one odd guy lobbing a grenade at them. He could only wonder what more was still to come - they had not even arrived in their positions yet and the real battle was still ahead.

The SS soldiers marching in the spearhead of the troops were craning their necks now and Dieter knew they had arrived in their destination. The march had taken almost two hours from what Dieter could estimate and the men seemed both happy and nervous when they realized that the march was over. Once Dieter got a look at what would be their defensive positions, he didn't feel any more confident than earlier. Trenches and small foxholes had been dug up hastily in the hilly area, multiple shell holes marred the ground and their positions were protected only by a row of barbed wire some 100 meters from the trenches. The only decently built defense they seemed to have was a small earth bunker to their left flank.

The men looked around in disbelief. The ground was charred and black, making it seem as if the Americans had opened up the gates of hell itself here earlier. Dieter knew that this bleak sight could only make the more inexperienced soldiers feel very worried, so he flashed his platoon a smile. "Es schaut gut aus, eh?" he asked with a grin, but only a few of the more experienced men chuckled at his sarcasm. Dieter sighed wearily, they would have to make do with what they had for now. His mind was already working on different options of how to defend these positions, although he felt that if the Americans really wanted to take over the area, with enough pressure on the Germans they would most likely succeed.

Obersturmführer Anday was calling for the platoon leaders to meet in the bunker, so Dieter told the men to relax for a while and rest after their long march. He was quite curious to hear how the Obersturmführer was going to arrange their defense, it certainly wasn't the easiest task to take upon oneself. Dieter was soon walking towards the small earth bunker with Feldwebel Stroh. The older man had fallen eerily silent after the earlier attack and Dieter only nodded him, not feeling like striking up a conversation with the man. He didn't like Feldwebel Stroh much and considered him far too stuck-up and self-important. He knew what he was doing, but that didn't mean that Dieter wanted to make friends with him.

As the German corporal entered the shelter, the warm air hitting his face felt both like a bliss and a curse. It made his cold fingers tingle painfully as the feeling slowly returned into them and he realized that the skin on his face had felt more like a frozen mask than actual skin for the last hour or so. The warmth was reminding him of how nice it felt to just feel one's face again, although he realized that it was a very temporary luxury.

The expression on Anday's face was grave and Dieter blinked slightly, quickly awakening from the brief bliss of just enjoying the warm air inside the bunker. The Stabsgefreiter looked more attentive as Anday addressed them, preparing to give them his orders.


Translation:
"Es schaut gut aus, eh?"
"Looks nice, eh?"

[∬: Attila Anday]

"Soldaten ... .", after addressing his next words to the men surrounding him, Anday made a short break, waiting for everybody in the small bunker to pay attention. "Wir Ihr sicher schon wisst, ist die Stadt Bastogne seit heute früh fast vollständig von Unseren Truppen eingeschlossen und vom Nachschub abgeschnitten. Die Amerikaner verteidigen sich allerdings auch weiterhin verbittert, wir werden hier um jeden Quadratmeter Boden kämpfen müssen."

The dry wood in the oven, standing in one corner of the earth bunker, threw out tiny sparks and made some crackling sounds, when a rather big piece was burning down. Although a big cloud of thick, black smoke came out of the oven, the heat that was spread in the small room felt heavenly to the group of Germans, especially as these men had gotten quite used to the bitter cold in these last, hard days. Holding his hands near to the small stove, Anday tried to rewarm his stiff fingers as much as possible. The blood, that now started flowing within Attila’s hands again, caused an uncomfortable prickle and made his fingers brush in a deep, light- red color. After some seconds of silence, the SS- Obersturmführer raised his deep, hard voice again.

"Unser Auftrag hier ist es, denn, noch dünnen Ring um Bastogne zu schließen zu helfen. Die Amerikaner werden alles daran setzen die Stadt zu halten und möglichst sogar zu entsetzen, aber als Verkehrsknotenpunkt hat Sie eine immense Wichtigkeit für die Fortsetzung der Offensive hier in den Ardennen. Unter keinen Umständen darf es dem Amerikaner gelingen, Bastogne zu befreien. Haben Sie soweit alles gut verstanden?" All of the men nodded their heads toward the SS- officer and Attila hadn't expected any other reaction on his question anyway.

Just when Attila wanted to speak up again, the tarpaulin that hung in the entrance to the small earth bunker got abruptly torn to the side. A young SS- private entered, accompanied by a freezing cold breeze of air. His face wore a very sorrowful expression and although the temperature outside was below freezing, wet sweat glanced on his forehead. The man was completely out of breath and it took him some attempts to be able to speak more than just a few, staccato words. "Herr Obersturmführer, Herr Obersturm." Panting for air, the private stopped in the middle of the word. His eyes wandered nervously from one soldier in the tight room to the next one. After some seconds, he finally was able to continue his sentence: "Herr Obersturmführer, Ich melde das wir Bewegung im Vorfeld gesichtet haben. Es sind nur ein paar vereinzelte Männer, noch circa 700 Meter entfernt. Wir konnten noch nicht erkennen, ob es Amerikaner oder Deutsche sind."

Anday hadn't gotten any information about own troops operating in front of his own company, but of course it was possible that those men were Germans. Grabbing his MP from a corner of the bunker, Anday turned to the entrance. While he already headed outside, the officer addressed some orders to his men: "Gut Sturmmann, Ich werde mir das sofort selbst ansehen. Fink und Rentz, Sie kommen mit mir, die Anderen gehen sofort zu den restlichen Zügen und lasst Sie in Stellung gehen."

With long and fast steps, Anday left the bunker, following the German private. A low trench lead to a bunch of foxholes at the hang of the small height, were a squad of Waffen SS- men had set up their defenses and now strained observed the other side of the frontline. Quickly Anday jumped into an empty shelter nearby, followed by the private and the two NCO's. Without loosing time, Anday took his binoculars from his neck and put them in front of his eyes. The spyglass was a very good one from the German brand Zeitss, that the officer had gotten as a present from his grandfather when he was still serving in the Romanian forces. The binoculars had already done giant services to him.

It took Anday only a few seconds to discover the approaching group of soldiers. First he was only able to recognize the moving shapes of some men, but soon after the soldiers had gotten a bit closer, Anday could count them. There were circa ten soldiers in the front end and now the officer realized them all wearing white camouflage gear. So these men were Germans for sure. Their uniforms were tattered and they moved slowly through the snow. One of them even appeared to be wounded, as he got carried by two of his comrades. Loudly Anday yelled at the surrounding men from his company: "Niemand schießt, das sind Kameraden."

Translations:

"Soldaten ... ."
"Soldiers ... ."

"Wir Ihr sicher schon wisst, … ."
"As you all surely know by now, the city of Bastogne is nearly completely enclosed by our troops since this morning and cut off it’s rear. But the Americans keep on defending embitter, we’ll have to fight hard for every square meter here."

"Unser Auftrag hier ist es,... ."
"It is our mission to help closing the, still thin encirclement around Bastogne. The Americans will try everything to hold the city or to even relief it, but as a traffic junction, it's way too important for the continuation of our offensive here in the Ardennes. Under no circumstance we can allow the Americans to free their troops in Bastogne. Have all of you understood that?"

"Herr Obersturmführer, Ich melde das wir ... ."
"Herr Obersturmführer, I have to report that we just discovered some movement in the front end. There are only a few men, circa 700 meters away from our positions. We couldn't recognize yet, if they are Americans or Germans."

"Gut Sturmmann, Ich werde mir ... ."
"Ok, Sturmmann. I will have a look at it by myself. Fink and Rentz, you'll accompany me, the others will go to their platoons and let them get into positions immediately."

"Niemand schießt, das sind Kameraden."
"Nobody shoots, that are comrades."

[∬: Erik Schneider]

"Herr Obersturmfuhrer! Ich kann niemand auf dem Radio nicht erreichen! Keine!" The last words of a frightened, young Aryan boy with light blond hair and bright blue eyes echoed in the Obersturmfuhrer's head as he watched a burst of .30 CAL bullets shred the boy to pieces. The fresh recruit had held the rank of Rottenfuhrer and served more as a personal assistant to Schneider than a radioman. Detached from the fierce fighting all around him, Schneider rushed over to the boy's side and dropped down onto his knees. Within a second, his face had disappeared in a gory explosion of blood and flesh. The disfigured face of a beautiful German lay in a puddle of blood, lifeless in Schneider's arms. This was the ultimate sacrifice for his glorious fatherland, that should bring victory upon the Waffen SS men in the Belgian woodlands. At long last, the tragic war was over for the young soul.

In the distance, a grenade exploded with a storm of shrapnel that sent tree branches into flight. The boy deserved this peace, but war was long from over for the unfortunate Schneider who had seen endless violence since '39. But violence comforted the man in a sick, sadistic way. The energy and will to fight was drained from the Obersturmfuhrer as his eyes fell upon the barely recognizable face of Rottenfuhrer Fritz. The mourning was interrupted by a call to get down, to which Schneider quickly obeyed. Burying himself in the snow with his arms protecting his face, the vulnerable Obersturmfuhrer was caught in a hail of bullets that obliterated the trees around him and brought shattered branches down onto his face with a deafening roar. When Schneider had at last found the courage and strength to get up, the hectic spray of bullets had paused and a still dead Fritz was sprawled out in blood red snow. Beneath him, a portable radio strapped to his back served as nothing but blood red metal. The American bullets had cut through the device, effectively cutting off any chances of contact.

The grief in the Obersturmfuhrer's heart was quickly replaced with a quick rush of adrenaline and a bitter cold rage. "Wir können nicht hier bleiben! Wir müssen in Hoffnungen des Findens unserer Linien zurückfallen! " Schneider roared to the surrounding men, that fought a bitter and difficult fight in an raised position in the Belgian woods against fierce American soldiers. He couldn't count heads, the burst of adrenaline complicated any attempt of mathematics. His only focus now was getting his men back to safety and saving as many as he could. There was between ten to fifteen men left alive from the initial patrol, maybe more and maybe less. "Muller!" The Obersturmfuhrer barked, finally standing up and turning his back on the slaughtered Rottenfuhrer. From the trees emerged an Untersurmfuhrer, a young man by the name of Muller, who was eager for action. Schneider had reluctantly allowed the blood thirsty man to accompany him on the patrol, not wanting to risk the lives of officers in these dire times.

"Herr Obersturmfuhrer?" A panting Muller muttered by the Obersturmfuhrer's side. "Untersturmfuhrer Muller, Sie führen die Männer in einem Ausbruch von dieser Tasche. Zum Süden. Versuchen Sie und halten Sie die Amerikaner weg von Ihrem Endstück, wie Sie für deutsche Linien bilden. Lassen Sie nur einige mit mich zurück, um weg zu halten, solange wir können." The Untersturmfuhrer gulped and looked at his superior with a questioning glance, which was quickly dismissed by Schneider who urged the man to leave. Within moments, the Obersturmfuhrer had gathered with another five or so men. Muller, in a daring charge down the hill, broke through the American's encirclement with little casualties. The surprised Americans had no time to react as the Waffen-SS soldiers charged down at them with a blood thirsty look of fanaticism in their eyes.

The fighting escalated into a desperate battle of the six or so men who remained behind to keep the gap in the American encirclement wide open for as long as possible to ensure everyone could get out. Including themselves. All of Schneider's focus fell upon the brilliant German weapon in his arms, the MP44. As he spread bursts of fire into the American positions, his bones endured the recoil of the powerful automatic weapon. Shakily, from a mixture of cold and recoil, the man had to reach for a fresh clip. Spotting a miracle, or simply an opportunity, Schneider raised from behind a large Belgian tree to give his orders. "Gehen Sie jetzt! Wie schnell Sie können! Gebühr!" Enraged, Schneider unleashed his clip into the woodlands. Determined to survive, the Obersturmfuhrer led his men forward once the weapon finally gave a loud click to signify it's emptiness. So numb, so extremely numb, Schneider's dash down the hill through the trees felt weightless. The soothing comfort of numbness from the cold gave the man a sense of immortality.

However, this "immortality" was not to last. Panting as he sprinted through the mass of trees for his very life, he came under heavy fire along with his men. Suddenly, this was answered by bursts of fire from the trees ahead of Schneider. Well, god damn, Muller was doing something useful. Ahead, the SS soldiers were providing covering fire for their comrades. Safety was just in Schneider's grasp as he charged forward, American bullets landing all around his feet which expertly traversed through the snow with the gentleness of a dancer. A dancer whose fate was to unfortunately make a fatal, amateur mistake. Schneider's foot slipped against a patch of ice and rocks and the man flew forward with great velocity. The Obersturmfuhrer came painfully crashing down into the snow and ice, his world came crashing down with it and Schneider fell into darkness.

"Herr Obersturmfuhrer...Herr Obersturmfuhrer.... Schneider!" Erik awoke from a gentle prod by Muller, feeling extremely nauseous. Bringing his head up in a hurry, a rush of pain shot through his head and he quickly found himself vomiting into the snow to his side. The bright white snow was stained with a mixture of blood from where his head once rested and now from his fresh vomit. "Geht mein Mittagessen." He muttered, rousing a round of laughter from the men. Dazed and confused, Schneider felt slightly concuss as he wiped the left over vomit that lingered on his lips off into his sleeve. He noticed his helmet was not on his head and when he reached up to feel his head, he felt wet bandages. Around his head, some gauze had been hastily wrapped around some kind of cut on his head which was soaked through with blood. Confused, he looked to Muller for an explanation.

"Sie nahmen durchaus den Fall dort, Obersturmfuhrer. Sie schneiden Ihren Kopf auf einigen Felsen und gefrieren, sobald Ihr Sturzhelm abkam. Er ist ernster nichts, gerade ein kleiner Schnitt, der schwer blutet. Sie wurden heraus, aber Sie denken Sie können weitergehen geklopft?" The vomit had been relieving to Schneider, who had now adjusted to consciousness and felt okay to move. The cut was, hopefully, nothing serious and his concussion had only lasted for a few minutes of unconscious. Hopefully, Schneider proved that he would be fine and could stay on the front. "Muller, wo sind wir? " The Untersturmfuhrer only shrugged. "Wie die Hölle sollte ich wissen? Irgendwo im Ardennes. Wir erreichten, den Amerikanern auszuweichen und Unterscharfuhrer Krueger hier war in der Lage aufrechtzuerhalten und trug Sie mit ihm. Wir waren glücklich."

The group of battered Waffen-SS soldiers were lead onwards, back towards German lines by Schneider. With his helmet back on, applying some pressure to the cut on his head, Schneider managed to walk fine with only some slight pain in his head. The concussion proved to be only minor and temporarily, the symptoms would probably be gone within a few hours. After some time, the SS soldiers donned in white camouflage smocks emerged from the woods and came upon some German foxholes. The beaten soldiers, tired from bitter battle and a long march through the cold were relieved to find their comrades. Raising his hands up, Schneider called out towards the German fortifications, "Wir sind deutsch! Wo ist Ihr Kommandant? Wir sind deutsch! "

Translations:

- "Herr Obersturmfuhrer! I can not reach anyone on the radio! No one!"

- "We can not stay here! We must fall back in hopes of finding our lines! "

- "You shall lead the men in a breakout from this pocket. To the south. Try and keep the Americans off your tail as you make for German lines. Leave only a few behind with myself to hold off as long as we can."

- "Go now! As fast you can! Charge!"

- "There goes my lunch."

- "You took quite the fall there, Obersturmfuhrer. You cut your head on some rocks and ice once your helmet came off. It is nothing serious, just a small cut that is bleeding heavily. You were knocked out, but do you think you can go on?"

- "Muller, where in the hell are we?"

- "How the hell should I know? Somewhere in the Ardennes. We managed to evade the Americans and Unterscharfuhrer Krueger here was able to keep up, carrying you with him. We were fortunate."

- "We are German! Where is your commander? We are German!"

[Dieter "Iceman" Rentz]

The fire in the small stove hissed and crackled in a comforting, almost homely manner, making Dieter feel oddly relaxed in the shelter of the meager bunker. Maybe it was just some ancient, primal instinct that made a person automatically feel safer when near a comfy fire, it was hard to say. All Dieter knew was that he could feel his face and fingertips again and that the warm air made him feel slightly sleepy. He hardly paid any mind to the fact that the thick smoke made his eyes sting and water, it was a small price to pay for the warmth. The man only squinted his blue eyes and tried his best to concentrate on Obersturmführer Anday's words.

What the SS officer had to say hardly surprised the German corporal. The Americans were fighting back fervently and wins did not come easily to the Germans. They had managed to encircle the Americans, but their lines were thin and the situation was precarious. If the Americans managed to bring in help, the Germans could not hope to win Bastogne. When Anday asked them if they understood how vital their task in the Ardennes was, all the men inside the bunker only nodded their acknowledgements. Dieter did not much care for worrying over the situation too much, he knew it was of no use. He had already been assigned a platoon under his command, something that made him less than happy, and most of his men were either unexperienced or too old. They were short on equipment and ammo, but had at least winter camouflage and what seemed to be, an experienced commander. The freezing weather was getting to some of the men but Dieter knew from bitter experience that it could have been worse; so far they had not suffered from biting wind and they could only hope that things would stay that way for now.

The blonde man was awoken from his thoughts as he felt the cold air on his skin again - someone had moved the tarpaulin away from the doorway, making their way in. The newcomer was a young SS-private and it seemed that he had been in somewhat of a hurry to carry his news to Anday. The man had to catch his breath for a while and all of the men in the bunker stared at him expectantly, most likely awaiting to hear some bad news. It was always bad news. When the Schütze was finally able to speak clearly, he told that they had seen movement in the front end, but had not been able to tell if the men had been some of their own or Americans. Certainly the Americans wouldn't have moved towards their positions with a force of just a handful of men? Dieter frowned at the news and looked at Obersturmführer Anday to see his reaction. "Fink und Rentz, Sie kommen mit mir, die Anderen gehen sofort zu den restlichen Zügen und lasst Sie in Stellung gehen," Anday ordered and Dieter acknowledged the order, using the Wehrmacht salute almost instinctively.

The corporal grimaced as he followed Anday outside, leaving the blissful warmth of the bunker behind him. How he would have enjoyed taking his gloves off, sitting by the stove and enjoying a nice, relaxing smoke and a cup of coffee. But no, instead he was here, trudging around in snow in the middle of this bloody Belgian countryside! He tried to channel his irritation into his limbs, hoping that it would serve to keep him warm at least for a minute or two. The Germans jumped into one of the trenches and Dieter stood next to the SS men, peering his eyes, trying to see these mysterious figures they had heard reports of. His breathing coming out in white clouds and the man strained his eyes, even though he knew that Obersturmführer Anday would be the first one to identify the group of men with his binoculars.

"Niemand schießt, das sind Kameraden," Anday announced after a while and Dieter sighed. Well, it was somewhat good news, they could use the assistance, although this lot might have not been of much use to them. What were they doing in the enemy territory, anyway? He had to wait for some time before he too could identify the soldiers. It seemed that they had been through some tough times and as they got closer Dieter could see that one of the men had bandages shoddily wrapped around his head. They were SS and Dieter only barely prevented himself from groaning out loud. That was just great, even more SS to look down on them!

Still, it was better than getting attacked by a bunch of Yanks, so Dieter couldn't really complain, either. Glancing towards the other trenches, the Wehrmacht corporal spotted a familiar figure, that of an older medic called Gerber. "Gerber, komm hierher!" Dieter called for the man, who instinctively sharpened up after hearing his name. Dieter motioned at the man with his hand and Gerber, as swiftly as his frozen limbs carried him, made his way towards Stabsgefreiter Rentz, dropping into the trench. "Helfen Sie und kümmern sich um das verwundete, Gerber," Dieter pointed towards the group of SS-soldiers who had now nearly made it to the safety of their own trenches. The bandaged man SS officer was asking for their commander and Dieter's gaze fell upon Obersturmführer Anday.


Translations:

"Gerber, komm hierher!"
"Gerber, come over here!"

"Helfen Sie und kümmern sich um das verwundete, Gerber."
"Help and see to the wounded, Gerber."

[∬: Attila Anday]

After he had shouted at his men, not to open fire prematurely, Anday started to slowly rise from his shelter and waved both of his arms toward the soldiers in front of the German positions. Within only seconds, the officer’s signal had gotten perceived and answered by a similar gesture from one of the dirty- white figures. Steadily continuing towards the height, the men fought their way through the deep and partially hardly frozen snow. Their movements were awfully slow and in their faces, one could easily see the great efforts these men had gone through. The two soldiers, who used to carry their wounded comrade, had already dropped quite a distance behind the rest of the marching row.

Another man approached the group of four men, who were now all standing tall in the small shelter, from behind, stopping directly next to Unteroffizier Rentz. At the second sight, Anday realized the soldier to be one of the medics that had gotten assigned to the Wehrmacht platoon under the command of Rentz. The Red Cross was brightly lightning at his white helmet and his complete body was draped with all kinds of bags and pouches. The face of the men showed some deep wrinkles and his eyes were shrunken and expressionless, letting him appear like being already way too old for staying at the direct frontline. But the hair below his steel helmet had a light blonde color with only some grey streaks, what bespoke that his true age was actually way lower. Now the medic was loudly panting for air after he had to run a good distance with his heavy equipment. Curiously he looked out for the reason of all this alertness, until he had finally found the soldiers coming towards them.

"Wir sind Deutsch! Wo ist Ihr Kommandant? Wir sind Deutsch!" Once the German troops had gotten near enough, Anday could hear one of the men loudly yelling at him. Strangely, the officer had the strong feeling, as if he had heard this voice somewhere before, but for the moment he absolutely couldn’t help himself. After Anday had signaled the men besides him to follow, he slung his MP over his shoulder and made some vast steps toward the soldiers in front of him, lifting his right hand to his forehead in a quick gesture in the meantime.

His next words were addressed to the man who had just called for the commander of this group here in front of him: "Bei Gott, aus welcher Hölle sind Sie denn gerade geflohen?”

Translations:

"Bei Gott, aus welcher Hölle sind Sie denn gerade geflohen? "
"Egad, from which hell did you just manage to escape?"

[Heiko Alkema]

Moderation[/b]

Attila Anday[/i] - 4CP

Erik Schneider[/i] - 2CP

Deiter Rentz[/i] - 4CP
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