Arbeit Macht Frei Pt III (Work makes none free)

[Deleted]

Wednesday, June 26, 1943.

Oswiêcim, Poland.

Auschwitz.


Scharführer Friedrich Hautt couldn't help but wonder to himself what purpose was being served in this horrible place. It had been five days since the incident in the nearby Polish village. He had been doing his best to keep busy, but no matter what tasks were handed to him, his thoughts always drifted to that moment. The few short moments when enemy resistance was encountered.

Why in the hell would anyone even think of defying the Germans? It seemed almost improbable that someone even could. It was stupidity. Wasted effort. Wasted time. From the moment the men of Auschwitz-Bikenau geared up for a fight, the fight was over. The Poles had been outnumbered. Outgunned. Out of their minds. On a suicide mission.

Hautt sighed and continued walking around the camp perimeter thoughtfully, his boots clicking and crunching on the hard, rocky ground. He kept his head and eyes downturned, his back poker-straight, his heands clasped in the small of his back. It was a fairly bright, sunny day. He would have said it was a beautiful day if not for the ash and smoke filling the air, blocking the sun--and deepening shadows.

He always came back to the same subject in his internal arguments. The Jews. What purpose were they detained and systematically slaughtered? Population control was a feeble answer. Everyone kept saying how bad the Jews were... how they lulled the world to sleep with a poisonous lullaby while lining their pockets with gold. So far, all Hautt had seen had been a realtively unwashed, smelly people with gaunt faces and large noses. He wasn't overly fond of them, in other words.

He just didn't give a shit about them. Plain and simple. Shoot them, burn them, stab them, mutilate them, starve them, drown them. Suffocate them and injure them. Kill them or torture them. He just... didn't care. Much like the Poles. Or the Italians. At least the French had good wine and civilized tastes. The Russians? Barbarians. Communists. Fools being led to eventual annihilation by a man they feared more than loved. What kind of a place is that? If you defy him, you die. If you obey him, you die. If you whisper in dark corners behin his back, or even look at him without absolute loyalty--you die. Idiot Stalin. Wool-head. Fool-head!

Hautt came to a stop at the great gates of Auschwitz, his eyes, as always, sliding across the words wrought in iron. "Arbeit Macht Frei... ha!" he laughed not so quietly to himself. His laugh had no humor or friendliness in it. It was kind of a stupid thing to put on a gate. Propaganda, really. The men inside would never see those gate from the outside again. Promises in stone and iron. Lies. He almost laughed again to think that some inside actually believed them.


Heading towards the gates, he handed the guard his soldbuch, who took his time looking from the photograph to Hautt and Hautt to the photograph. After passing the gates, Hautt looked over his shoulder at the back on the man's head, mentally picturing himself driving a rail spike into the guys neck. A pity he would never do it.

Looking at his destination, a fairly large administration building, he walked a little faster, shoving his hands into his roomy overcoat pockets. Heading through the open doorway into a side room immediately left of the entrance, he weaved through the numerous desks and chairs to the only other person in the room, who was working vigorously on a typewriter, his ink-smudged nose and inch from the letters.

"Guten Tag, Thomas! Wird alles auf die Ausführungen vorbereitet?" he asked, looking over the shoulder of the man. "Alles ist bereit, Hautt. Es beginnt in ungefähr zwanzig Minuten. Der Kommandant selbst wird besuchen, schrauben Sie dieses nicht deshalb aufwärts," Thomas replied, his tone tired. From the amount of paperwork, Hautt guessed he had been working all night in preparation.

"Keine Sorgen, Herr Sturmbannführer. Alles ist ausgearbeitet worden. Die Juden werden zuerst hingerichtet werden, und dann die Wachen, die ihnen halfen. Die Wachen sind noch nicht informiert worden, aber. Tatsächlich habe ich dem Kommandanten auch nicht gesagt. Ich glaube, daß er suprised sein wird, wenn seine eigenen Männer vor dem langen Sturz Schlingen um ihre Hälse wickeln lassen," he said, keeping his tone down in case someone was within earshot. "Sind Sie sicher, daß Sie machen können, daß, Hautt?" Thomas asked, slightly taken aback. "Ahh, Sie vergessen, Thomas!" he chuckled, pulling out a letter from his top right breast pocket. He didn't read it, but they both already knew what it contained.

A letter authorizing him to inspect and punish, as seen fit, any insubordinate or traitorous persons found in Auschwitz-I, II or III, bypassing the Camp Commander. Hautt was basically representing the chief of the Sicherheitsdienst (SD) in this matter, a certain SS-Obergruppenführer Ernst Kaltenbrunner, Director of the Reichssicherheitshauptamt (RSHA). A fact he had not been inclined to tell his superiors. If he did, then the whole advantage of his anonymity would be kaputt.

"Sie bekommen Ihren Esel, der sich bewegt, besser!" Thomas scolded, looking at his wrist watch pointedly. "Zustimmung, Zustimmung! Ich gehe! Ich werde Sie danach sehen. Wir können Kaffee oder etwas haben," he laughed. "Überhaupt, Hautt, gehen Sie nur!" Thomas urged, pointing towards the door. Hautt exited the building, not looking back. Adjusting his NCO cap, it was a ten-minute walk, at a brisk pace, to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where the executions were going to take place. He flashed his soldbuch at the guard, who he knew, who nodded and let him pass instantly. He made mental note to take him out for a proper lunch sometime.

The executions were to take place right outside Birkenau's administration building, with most of the higher-ranked SS men attending. Even from the distance, Hautt could see the crowd that was gathered. He could see around fifteen officers, and times four that number in enlisted. Seventy-five men wasn't bad. Unbuttoning his very fine overcoat, he approached the makeshift gallows that waited. The rows of soldiers were quiet as a group of three polish jews were marched to the gallows in silence, their hands restrained in front of them, their eyes blindfolded.

Stepping up on the gallows before the audience, Hautt pulled out a letter from inside his overcoat, opening it and clearing his voice before speaking. "Von Reihenfolge von Hauptsturmführer Karl Fritzsch werden diese Männer zum Tod durch das Hängen verurteilt. Ihre Verbrechen sind wie folgt: Versuchte Flucht, Besitz explosiver Verordnung, Besitz der Feuerwaffen, Besitz der Schutzstaffel-Uniformen, Besitz, Werkzeuge zu graben, das Tragen von einer Uniform des Dritten Reiches, Verkörperung eines deutschen Offizieres, die einen deutschen Soldaten imitiert, das Angreifen eines Schutzstaffel Officer, das Angreifen eines Schutzstaffel-Soldaten, das Angreifen eines Wehrmacht-Soldaten, das Angreifen eines kapo, versuchter Aufstand, Fälschung deutscher Identifikationsdokumente, versuchte Flucht und griff einen Schutzstaffel-Soldaten, versuchte Flucht, an," he finished, closing the letter and replacing it in his overcoat.

As the nooses were placed around their necks, one of them began to sob, while the other two remained silent. A moment of silence, and Hautt kicked the trap door release. It took awhile. Hautt waited a good five minutes, eyeing his wristwatch the whole itme, and then pulled out his pistol and fired a couple into each of their chests to make sure they were gone.

As the crowd began to disperse, Hautt pulled out a separate letter, this time addressing the six soldiers who had marched the jews up to the platform. "Durch die Macht übertrug darin mein durch Obergruppenführer und Allgemeiner der Polizei und Waffen-SS, Ernst Kaltenbrunner, Direktor vom Reichssicherheitshauptamt, Oberhaupt vom Sicherheitsdienst und Sicherheitspolizei, ich verurteile diese Männer hiermit zum Tod durch das Hängen, wirksam sofort. Nehmen Sie ihre Waffen, gefallen Sie," he said, pointing to two MP's, who looked at each other, surprised. The crowd which only moments before were dispersing, had frozen, and all eyes turned to the Commandant.

"Jetzt, bitte," he said one more to the MP's, who reluctantly took the men's firearms. The six men each had a look of disbelief, and horror, imprinted on their faces, as they were marched, almost as if in a trance, to the gallows. "Was ist die Bedeutung davon? Ich fordere eine Erklärung!" Hauptsturmführer Fritzsch bellowed, marching angrily up the gallows to stand by Hautt, his face contorted with anger. Ignoring him, Hautt ordered the Jews to be cut loose, and new nooses prepared. "Antworten Sie mir, verdammen Sie es!" The Commandant screamed, a stream of spit flying everywhere. "Herr, ich empfehle Ihnen dringend Einstellung zurück und ließ mich meinen Anordnungen folgen," Hautt said coldly.

As Hauptsturmführer Fritzsch stepped down, still angry at the turn of events, Hautt read the charges. "Ihre Verbrechen sind wie folgt: Das Versorgen von Häftlingen mit explosiver Verordnung, beim Versorgen von Häftlingen mit Feuerwaffen, das Häftlinge mit SS-Uniformen bereitstellt, beim Versorgen von Häftlingen mit grabenden Werkzeugen, beim Versorgen von Häftlingen mit Fälschungsmaterialien, beim Unterstützen von Häftlingen mit versuchter Flucht, Landesverrat gegen das Vaterland und das Dritte Reich, Landesverrat gegen den SS, Besitz von einem Torah, Besitz Anti-arischer Literatur," Friedrich called out, as the nooses were tightened around the traitorous necks...


----------------------------------------------
Translations:

"Guten Tag, Thomas! Wird alles auf die Ausführungen vorbereitet?"
"Hello, Thomas! Is everything prepared for the executions?"

"Alles ist bereit, Hautt. Es beginnt in ungefähr zwanzig Minuten. Der Kommandant selbst wird besuchen, schrauben Sie dieses nicht deshalb aufwärts,"
"Everything is ready, Hautt. It starts in about twenty minutes. The Commandant himself will be attending, so don't screw this up,"

"Keine Sorgen, Herr Sturmbannführer. Alles ist ausgearbeitet worden. Die Juden werden zuerst hingerichtet werden, und dann die Wachen, die ihnen halfen. Die Wachen sind noch nicht informiert worden, aber. Tatsächlich habe ich dem Kommandanten auch nicht gesagt. Ich glaube, daß er suprised sein wird, wenn seine eigenen Männer vor dem langen Sturz Schlingen um ihre Hälse wickeln lassen,"
"No worries, sir Sturmbannführer. It has all been worked out. The Jews will be executed first, and then the guards who helped them. I have not told the guards yet. Indeed, I have not told the Commandant, either. I think he will be suprised when his own men have nooses wrapped around their necks before the long drop,"

"Sind Sie sicher, daß Sie machen können, daß, Hautt?"
"Are you sure you can do that, Hautt?"

"Ahh, Sie vergessen, Thomas!"
"Ahh, you forget, Thomas!"

"Sie bekommen Ihren Esel, der sich bewegt, besser!"
"You had better get your ass moving!"

"Zustimmung, Zustimmung! Ich gehe! Ich werde Sie danach sehen. Wir können Kaffee oder etwas haben,"
"Okay, okay! I'm going! I'll see you after. We can have coffee or something,"

"Überhaupt, Hautt, gehen Sie nur!"
"Whatever, Hautt, just go!"

"Von Reihenfolge von Hauptsturmführer Karl Fritzsch werden diese Männer zum Tod durch das Hängen verurteilt. Ihre Verbrechen sind wie folgt: Versuchte Flucht, Besitz explosiver Verordnung, Besitz der Feuerwaffen, Besitz der Schutzstaffel-Uniformen, Besitz, Werkzeuge zu graben, das Tragen von einer Uniform des Dritten Reiches, Verkörperung eines deutschen Offizieres, die einen deutschen Soldaten imitiert, das Angreifen eines Schutzstaffel Officer, das Angreifen eines Schutzstaffel-Soldaten, das Angreifen eines Wehrmacht-Soldaten, das Angreifen eines kapo, versuchter Aufstand, Fälschung deutscher Identifikationsdokumente, versuchte Flucht und griff einen Schutzstaffel-Soldaten, versuchte Flucht, an,"
"By order of Hauptsturmführer Karl Fritzsch, these men are sentenced to death by hanging. Their crimes are as follows: Attempted escape, possession of explosive ordinance, possession of firearms, possession of Schutzstaffel uniforms, possession of digging tools, wearing a uniform of the Third Reich, impersonation of a German Officer, impersonating a German soldier, assaulting a Schutzstaffel Officer, assaulting a Schutzstaffel soldier, assaulting a Wehrmacht soldier, assaulting a kapo, attempted revolt, forgery of German Identification papers, attempted escape, assaulting a Schutzstaffel soldier, attempted escape,"

"Durch die Macht übertrug darin mein durch Obergruppenführer und Allgemeiner der Polizei und Waffen-SS, Ernst Kaltenbrunner, Direktor vom Reichssicherheitshauptamt, Oberhaupt vom Sicherheitsdienst und Sicherheitspolizei, ich verurteile diese Männer hiermit zum Tod durch das Hängen, wirksam sofort. Nehmen Sie ihre Waffen, gefallen Sie,"
"By the power vested in my by Obergruppenführer and General of the Polizei and Waffen-SS, Ernst Kaltenbrunner, Director of the Reichssicherheitshauptamt, Chief of the Sicherheitsdienst and Sicherheitspolizei, I hereby sentence these men to death by hanging, effective immediately. Take their weapons, please,"

"Jetzt, bitte,"
"Now, please,"

"Was ist die Bedeutung davon? Ich fordere eine Erklärung!"
"What is the meaning of this? I demand an explanation!"

"Antworten Sie mir, verdammen Sie es!"
"Answer me, damn it!"

"Herr, ich empfehle Ihnen dringend Einstellung zurück und ließ mich meinen Anordnungen folgen,"
"Sir, I strongly recommend you stand back and let me follow my orders,"

"Ihre Verbrechen sind wie folgt: Das Versorgen von Häftlingen mit explosiver Verordnung, beim Versorgen von Häftlingen mit Feuerwaffen, das Häftlinge mit SS-Uniformen bereitstellt, beim Versorgen von Häftlingen mit grabenden Werkzeugen, beim Versorgen von Häftlingen mit Fälschungsmaterialien, beim Unterstützen von Häftlingen mit versuchter Flucht, Landesverrat gegen das Vaterland und das Dritte Reich, Landesverrat gegen den SS, Besitz von einem Torah, Besitz Anti-arischer Literatur,"
"Their crimes are as follows: Providing prisoners with explosive ordinance, providing prisoners with firearms, providing prisoners with SS uniforms, providing prisoners with digging tools, providing prisoners with forgery materials, aiding prisoners with attempted escape, treason against the Fatherland and the Third Reich, treason against the SS, possession of a Torah, possession of anti-Aryan literature,"

[Otto Wolff]

A stabbing pain, much like a sharp knife, was viciously carving at Otto Wolff's left temple and he found himself at the complete mercy of this sensation. It filled his entire world and all the other things were shut out - he could only realize the immense, blinding pain inside his head. Otto was sitting on a chair of a small, simple room in one of the barracks of the camp - the room had been made available to him for the moment so he could work on his investigation concerning the recent uprising. Usually Brenner was there working on various papers with him, but right now Otto was alone, doubled over in his seat due to the head-splitting migraine. He pressed a hand against the side of his head, the muscles on his neck tensing from the effort of trying to withstand the blinding headache. He had suffered from migraines for several years, but the attacks had been quite infrequent and never as severe as the ones he had been experiencing lately. He knew it had something to do with the explosion he had been caught in some time ago - although Otto had survived the incident with relatively little damage, he had not escaped it quite unscathed. He would forever carry a scar on his other thigh as a remainder of the conflict and apparently his migraines would torment him in a much more severe manner than ever before, too. He could only hope that it was something that would fix itself - he was slightly worried that it would start taking a toll on his work performance sooner or later.

Very slowly and very carefully, Otto managed to open his eyes, but his vision was hazy and filled with numerous tiny specks of bright light. He could faintly make out the outline of the small container of pills he had managed to procure from the camp doctor. He had not been quite truthful of the exact frequency and severity of the migraines when he had explained his situation to the doctor, but he had figured that the attacks would end eventually, anyway. He just needed to get to the bottle and he would feel all better soon. Although he knew from experience that moving around would only make the pain worse, he slowly sat straighter and, holding a hand on his forehead, stumbled up to his feet. He had trouble seeing where he was going and the hot, relentless pain did not help him much. Still, the man made his way slowly to the table and curled his fingers around the small container, his thumb working on the cap for a good while before it finally popped open. Otto tilted the bottle, only barely managing to see the pills that dropped on the palm of his hand. He threw the pills quickly in his mouth, washing them down with a glass of stale water that had been sitting on the table since yesterday.

He waited for the medicine to kick in and even though he knew that actual effect was not quite so instantaneous, he could almost immediately feel the worst brunt of pain starting to let go. The uniformed Gestapo officer rested his hands on the table, closing his eyes and waiting until the waves of pain very slowly receded and he felt it was safe to open his eyes once again. He was still seeing hazily and the migraine had not completely disappeared, so he moved very slowly towards the smaller counter next to the wall. A white enamel wash basin had been set on the top of it and on the wall behind it was a small mirror. Otto stopped in front of it and sneered at the image he saw staring back at him. He felt very weak and he looked like it, too. Cold sweat was clinging to his pale skin and he appeared anything but presentable in his current state. Otto took a deep breath before leaning down to splash some water over his face. The cool water felt blissfully soothing and he did not even care when it dripped under the collar of his white shirt. The pain was now only a dull sensation on his temples and Otto was starting to feel more confident about surviving through the day again. He wiped the water away from his skin and ran both hands over his black hair, staring at the image in the mirror. Auschwitz had definitely taken it's toll on him. He just wasn't sure how severely he would be paying for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe... it had been the right place at the right time. After all, together with Erik Schneider they had taken control of the situation and helped to quell the riot before it had become more disastrous. If they had not been there, who knows what might have happened to the camp?

A sudden, sharp knock from the door made Otto almost jump and he sighed at his own stupidity when Brenner opened up the door and peered inside. "Otto. Ich dachte, dass Sie den Obersturmführer jetzt trafen?" the younger man asked, looking quite perplexed. Usually the Kriminalkommissar was very prompt with his schedule and he was always the one telling his assistant to hurry up to get things done. Otto wiped a drop of water from his chin and nodded. "Natürlich brauche ich nicht erinnert zu werden. Ich sollte so etwa abreisen," Otto answered sharply, arching an eyebrow at the young Gestapo officer to make sure he realized that Otto did not like to be reminded. Brenner shifted his weight from one foot to another, staring at his superior for a moment, but then he merely nodded and closed the door quietly, leaving Otto alone again. The Kriminalkommissar glanced at his reflection, wiping a drop of water from his chin with a sigh. "Zeit, um Sachen dann zu machen, Otto."

The man straightened out his grey uniform and ran a hand over his hair once more to make sure that he looked at least somewhat presentable. If he appeared slightly weary, he could just put that on the account of having worked so diligently for the past few weeks. Actually, his only reprieve from work had been the occasional lunches and dinners spent talking to the young Obersturmführer Schneider. They had become something of friends over this short course of time and even though they had not really discussed any personal matters, Otto felt that he had become to know Schneider quite well. He was a decent and industrious young officer and Otto was sure that he would get far in his career yet.

Still, their work was far from done and new matters required their attention today. Taking one final glance at the mirror, Otto stepped out of the room, nodding briefly at Brenner before making his way to the door. He could see the inquisitive look in Brenner's eyes, but instead of saying anything, he merely stood up straighter and tried to appear as much his normal, proud self as possible. He did not need Brenner hovering over him, constantly asking what was wrong - he was more than qualified to take care of himself and he certainly did not need the help of a young little pup such as Brenner. The weather outside was clear and bright and Otto squinted his eyes, fearing that the excess light might trigger another spout of headaches. Spotting just the man he was looking for, Otto merely avoided looking at the sun and with long, practiced strides, made his way towards the Obersturmführer.


Translations:

"Otto. Ich dachte, dass Sie den Obersturmführer jetzt trafen?"
"Otto. I thought you were meeting the Obersturmführer now?"

"Natürlich brauche ich nicht erinnert zu werden. Ich sollte so etwa abreisen."
"Of course, I don't need to be reminded. I was just about to leave."

"Zeit, um Sachen dann zu machen, Otto."
"Time to get things done then, Otto."

[∬: Erik Schneider]

The dining room of the officer's quarters was tranquil, an obvious contrast to the chaos that had been running rampant elsewhere within the Auschwitz camp. A large wooden oak table was the center of attention in the dining room, with several chairs guarding its perimeter. There was some lavish decorations littering the walls of the room, including a Nazi flag as well as a portrait of the Führer. Fanaticism was the norm within the concentration camp, hence why some of the rooms within the luxurious officer's quarters were decorated with various portraits of Adolf Hitler himself. The SS men enjoyed being surrounded with images of their infamous leader as well as insignias of the Nazi Party apparently and Schneider didn't blame them. If he had to spent years within the camp, tainted constantly by the inferiors that poured into the camp via railroad, he would do his best to escape the reality of it too. Far from home, these paintings were the only thing they had left to remind them of their glorious fatherland.

In silence, as well as solitude, the Obersturmfuhrer gently maneuvered his knife and fork through the soft pastry. Schneider loved the taste of Strudel in the morning, especially that of Apfelstrudel. A delicious layer of cream covered the top of the savory layered pastry with apple filling inside. The young Obersturmfuhrer had spent many afternoons and nights eating and discussing with the Gestapo Kriminalkommissar. They discussed topics that ranged from how they were going to win the war to the happenings within the camp. A frequent subject of their discussions between meals was that of a certain Scharführer by the name of Friedrich Hautt. Whether it be his comical and disastrous feats, or the mysterious amount of power he was wielding within the camp. Sometimes, the discussions on Hautt's behalf were not so pleasant. In fact, Schneider would vouch that nearly all of them weren't pleasant. He still chuckled at the tantalizing thought of forcing Hautt into manual labor within the camp once more.

The small white plate was by now empty, the only trace of strudel being the crumbs that littered the plate's surface. Grasping a cool glass of milk from beside the plate, Schneider downed the glass in one gulp. The cool milk gracefully poured down his throat, washing down the Apfelstrudel. Setting the glass down on the table, he pushed his chair out from under the table so that he may stand up. Schneider pushed the chair back under the table, leaving a mixture of plates from that particular mornings breakfast behind to be cleaned up by one of the camp's cooks. As he scooped his peaked cap off the edge of the oak table, holding it up against his chest, he paused momentarily. A few seconds of silence passed as the Obersturmführer gazed on the portrait of Hitler. The scent of strudel still lingered in the room, it's taste blended with that of dairy. He nodded at the portrait, realizing that the work to be carried out was vital to Germany.

Swiftly, he brought a white cloth napkin up to his mouth and wiped the remnants of milk and strudel from his face. He pulled his peaked cap snugly over his golden blond hair and turned on his heels to face the door. The corridor of the officer's quarters wasn't precisely active that day either. Most of the men had left their barracks and quarters in order to view the executions that would be carried out in the courtyard that day. Many of the Jews would be publicly executed before the guards for their participation in the recent rebellion. Personally, Schneider cared little to view the executions. The Jews were murdered systematically throughout the camp, so the spectacle of a hanging wasn't all too appealing. If he wanted to view a killing, he simply had to visit the gas chambers. So, the Obersturmführer had the officer's quarters to himself for the moment. He had lulled behind the early rush of the other officers to finish their breakfast and view the hangings in order to enjoy his morning in peace and solitude.

Adjusting his grey tunic, he made sure he looked presentable. Reassured that nothing on his uniform was out of place, he exited his quarters and stepped into the crisp Wednesday morning air. No doubt the camp would significantly heat up as the hours passed by, the summer heat was overwhelming in the afternoon. In the distance, Schneider could overhear the commotion of the executions. Someone had foolishly put Scharführer Hautt in charge of the whole ordeal. Schneider craned his neck and looked in the direction of the hangings briefly, before strolling over to a nearby building where he was to meet with the Kriminalkommissar. It was unusual for the men to be running late, so Schneider slipped a cigarette out of his breast pocket and slid it in between his lips. In no time the tip of the cigarette was lit and Schneider began taking drags on the German cigarette. Waiting patiently for Wolff's arrival, Schneider entertained himself by listening in on the uproar near the execution site. In the distance, Kriminalkommissar Wolff appeared and approached the Obersturmführer. "Ah, Herr Kriminalkommissar! Guten Tag."

[Deleted]

As Hautt checked that the nooses were in their proper places, he took one last look at Fritzsch, who was cursing at the sudden turn of events. "Du Sohn von einer Hündin, Hautt! Ich werde dich dafür Gericht-verhaften lassen!" the man shouted for him to hear, a steady flow of spittle soaking the men around him. Hautt shrugged and flashed a winning smile, yanking on the lever to release the trap-door. As six bodies dropped, each doing their best to breathe the air to extend their life for a few more insignificant moments, Hautt scanned the crowd to see what reactions he could see. Most were disgusted. Not at the men, but of him. Why shouldn't they? A few were blank. One was really pale and sickly looking. Squinting, he almost could hardly believe his eyes that it was the Kriminalkommissar Wolff. "Verdamme, er sieht schrecklich aus. Muß etwas herum gehend sein," he thought to himself, his smile turning to a frown. He'd never seen the man look this bad. Not even when he had a fair chunk of wood embedded in his leg.

Turning his attention back to the men he was hanging, he pulled out his walking stick from it's usual position, tucked into his belt in the small of his back. Running a back-gloved finger over the SS Insignia on the handle, he leaned forward and proceeded to prod the bodies one at a time, satisfied that they were, indeed, dead. "Schneide sie los, bitte," Hautt asked the MP, who cut the nooses, letting the uniformed bodies fall next to the dirty bodies of the Jews. "Auch verdächtigt darin, den Häftlingsaufstand zu unterstützen, ist das folgende; SS-Schütze Otto Morder, SS-Schütze Richard Faust, SS-Schütze William Shadoan, SS-Obergrenadier Philip Stahl, SS-Rottenführer Eugène Terre'Blanche, SS-Unterscharführer Kenneth Terre'Blanche, SS-Hauptscharführer Heinrich Kumm, SS-Hauptsturmführer Ernst Morder. Gefangennahme besagter Verräter wird hiermit vorbei zur Zeltlagerwache gedreht. Sie sind, unter Wache um Truppen von den 3. SS für Versuch von einem kombinierten Sicherheitsdienst und Geheimestaatspolizei militärisches Gericht nach München transportiert zu werden, als gesehener Anfall neben jedem Fall, beurteilte hohen Beamten von ein Reichssicherheitshauptamt. Bestrafung schließt vielleicht ein, aber wird nicht dazu beschränkt: Inhaftierung für bis zu zwanzig Jahre, gezwungene Arbeit, Aufgabe zu einer SS-Bestrafung Bataillon, Ausführung vom Hängen, Ausführung davon, Gruppe anzuzünden, das Ausziehen von allen Auszeichnungen und den Dekorationen, das Ausziehen von Rang, und der unehrenhafte Abfluß von SS-Dienst. Wenn es nicht schuldig gefunden wird, sagte, daß Personen vielleicht ehrenvoll freigesprochen werden. Alles ist sofort wirksam," Hautt finished, stepping down from the platform and walking through the thinning crowd towards Obersturmführer Fritzsch, receiving dirty looks the whole way.

"Ich möchte mal kurz später mit Ihnen sprechen, Herr, wenn ich könnte," Hautt said respectfully in a low tone. "Ich werde sagen, daß Sie können. Die Wegsachen gehen, Sie werden zuvor diese verdammte Stelle lang leiten. Kann ich nichts machen? Ist ich, die genaue Kleidung auf meinem von mir von einem aristokratischen Bastard wie sich, einem niedrigen Scharführer dabei, genommenen Rücken zu haben? Ich kann Sie, Hautt, beruhigen," Fritzsch paused, putting anger and poison into his voice when he said his name. "...Ich kann Sie beruhigen, daß ich mein Bestes tun werde, um zu sehen, scheitern Sie," he finished, his voice a mere whisper. Hautt nodded and smiled, saluting respectfully. He was truly looking forward to it.

The crowd steadily dispersed, each going to their own duties, some clearing out the bodies, some heading for the barracks, a few heading for town, with the bulk of them left to do whatever they pleased. A game of football was started on the grounds, 3rd versus 14th. German versus foreign. The Totenkopf against the Galizien. The 14th Waffen Grenadier was a recently formed volunteer Division of the SS, consisting mainly of ethnic Ukrainians living in Galicia. The roster, however, was also littered with Slovaks, Czechs and Dutch men and officers. It was only thousand men strong or so, but they were growing fairly steadily and would begin shipping for the Eastern front as early as October, as a part of the SS Kampfgruppe Beyersdorff, or so most of them said. The cold would already be on its way by then, however, so even if they did get a lucky start, they wouldn't get far before being locked down. He had really gotten to like the guys in what time he had spent with them. They didn't have the experience the German SS Divisions did, but he had seen first hand at the very beginning of the month the rigorous training they had to go through. Harder than the average Wehrmacht soldier, that was for certain. They had chaplains, from both the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church and the Orthodox Church, unlike the German SS which denied its men such a privilege. Lucky bastards.

He walked a short distance away from the Obersturmführer, removing his overcoat and taking a seat on an old mess bench. Watching as the bodies were dragged away, the soldiers for boxes bound for Germany, and the Jews for the burning pits, he dug as deep as he could to see if he had any regret. Any sadness. There was none. Any moral center he had in past years had been eroded by the time spent in the various camps and ghettos. Hautt couldn't help but wonder if his parents would recognize him. And what about Liliane? By the time he got back to her, he might not recognize the man he saw in the mirror, much less his future wife. The camps changed people. For worse. Pity? None. Regret? None. Weaknesses.

He even found himself losing bits of himself. The little things which made him human. He never smiled unless he didn't mean it. He never laughed unless it was at another's misfortune. He had given up all but the oldest of hobbies. He cringed when someone asked him to join in on a card game, and claimed he had things to do when asked if he wanted to go to town for a quick drink. The whole place was a nest of despair. It sucked in all the happiness and joy and individuality from a person, and left them nothing but and faceless machine full of anger and hate. He had often gone on walks by himself to get away from it, always intending to go to town, but never seeming to arrive there. Instead, he walked into the woods and played his violin to himself for a few hours, the only truly enjoyable aspect of his stay being those moments when he was quietly alone to himself, his music, and his own thoughts.

He couldn't help but hope the camp had done some good for him. He now drank only rarely, and had quit smoking altogether. Was that fair payment for what he had lost? Most likely, the answer was no, but he couldn't muster enough will at the moment to even care. Looking sideways at Otto, he wondered what the man would say to him if he told him these thoughts. What would Schneider say? Nothing, most likely. He would probably call Hautt a loser Jew bastard and shoot him in the knee just for the hell of it. He never could tell what either of the two would do next. Absolutely unpredictable. By the end of the day, Hautt could be rotting in a prison cell or dining at a restaurant, depending on the moods of his superiors. Absolutely unapproachable. For him, those men were the untouchable God-like figures who dictated his fate. He could subvert an Obersturmführer, and single-handedly rid a camp of corruption, but he could not make himself right in their eyes. He had always been, and always would be the clumsy idiot they had known from day one, who couldn't make it as a cook in the Mountain Divisions, who couldn't make it as a radio operator in the Motorised Infantry Divisions, and who apparently couldn't make it as a Soldier in the SS. Who he didn't just hang himself from a tree after filling out his own death paperwork to save them the trouble was beyond him.

"Sohn einer Hündin!" he hissed under his breath. He wanted to get out of this God-forsaken shit hole! A bar full of Russians, and his trusty umbrella. That's all he wanted. He considered looking for someone to beat down. Someone to break. He knew there was noone, however. Schneider would kill him if he started something with another Wehrmacht. "Es gibt hier nichts! Keine bewaffneten Russen, keine Partisanen. Nichts! Wie können wir einen Krieg gewinnen, wenn wir auf unseren dicken Eseln sitzen, die den ganzen Tag Juden verbrennen?" he muttered under his breath. One of the German soldiers playing football, a Sturmmann, heard him, and held up a hand to stop the game. "Was ist das? Hast du etwas gegen brennende Juden? Du siehst selbst wie ein Jude aus, du mörderischer Verräterbastard!" the man cried, to the cheers of his team. "Lügner! Ich werde dich töten!" Hautt bellowed, completely losing it. His umbrella was out, and before he knew what was happening, he had thrown the man to the ground and was bashing the face of the poor bloke with his hardwood umbrella handle. Cries went out, and the man's team went to his aid, a half a dozen members of the Galizien rushing in to Hautt's aid.

A Totenkopf man lifted Hautt off the ground and slammed him on to the firm ground, raising a fist and driving it into his face like a jackhammer. Hautt threw up his left arms to shield himself, his right hand still gripped on his umbrella. Pulling his own arms back, Hautt jabbed forcefully with his umbrella, hard metal tip making contact with ribs. Pushing the guy off of him, Hautt rolled away and stood up, a full-out brawl already started on the grounds, with spectators of the game joining in as well. Another man, this time of the Wiking Division ran at Hautt, his shoulder hitting him like a snow plow, knocking him off his feet, the bulk of his body falling onto a chair, the rickety old thing splintering into a dozen pieces. Everything else was a blur, with him getting pummeled in the ribs over and over before he finally using his thumbs to gouge the eyes of the Wiking brute, rolling over on top and driving an elbow in the guy's face, a loud crack announcing a broken nose. Standing up shakily, he was immediately beaten down once more, this time by someone wielding a chair, the blow landing on the small of his back, the pain making the corners of his vision turn red, before the whole field finally turned black as he passed out blissfully, managing one word as the mass of people around him continued going at it brutally.

"Lügner."



----------------------------------------------
Translations:

"Du Sohn von einer Hündin, Hautt! Ich werde dich dafür Gericht-verhaften lassen!"
"You son of a bitch, Hautt! I'll have you court-martialled for this!"

"Schneide sie los, bitte,"
"Cut them loose, please,"

"Verdamme, er sieht schrecklich aus. Muß etwas herum gehend sein,"
"Damn he looks awful. Must be something going around,"

"Auch verdächtigt darin, den Häftlingsaufstand zu unterstützen, ist das folgende; SS-Schütze Otto Morder, SS-Schütze Richard Faust, SS-Schütze William Shadoan, SS-Obergrenadier Philip Stahl, SS-Rottenführer Eugène Terre'Blanche, SS-Unterscharführer Kenneth Terre'Blanche, SS-Hauptscharführer Heinrich Kumm, SS-Hauptsturmführer Ernst Morder. Gefangennahme besagter Verräter wird hiermit vorbei zur Zeltlagerwache gedreht. Sie sind, unter Wache um Truppen von den 3. SS für Versuch von einem kombinierten Sicherheitsdienst und Geheimestaatspolizei militärisches Gericht nach München transportiert zu werden, als gesehener Anfall neben jedem Fall, beurteilte hohen Beamten von ein Reichssicherheitshauptamt. Bestrafung schließt vielleicht ein, aber wird nicht dazu beschränkt: Inhaftierung für bis zu zwanzig Jahre, gezwungene Arbeit, Aufgabe zu einer SS-Bestrafung Bataillon, Ausführung vom Hängen, Ausführung davon, Gruppe anzuzünden, das Ausziehen von allen Auszeichnungen und den Dekorationen, das Ausziehen von Rang, und der unehrenhafte Abfluß von SS-Dienst. Wenn es nicht schuldig gefunden wird, sagte, daß Personen vielleicht ehrenvoll freigesprochen werden. Alles ist sofort wirksam,"
"Also suspected in aiding the prisoner revolt are the following; SS-Schütze Otto Morder, SS-Schütze Richard Faust, SS-Schütze William Shadoan, SS-Obergrenadier Philip Stahl, SS-Rottenführer Eugène Terre'Blanche, SS-Unterscharführer Kenneth Terre'Blanche, SS-Hauptscharführer Heinrich Kumm, SS-Hauptsturmführer Ernst Morder. Capture of said traitors is hereby turned over to the Camp guard. They are to be transported to Munich under guard by troops of the 3rd SS for trial by a combined Sicherheitsdienst and Geheimestaatspolizei military court, as seen fit by each case, judged by a Reichssicherheitshauptamt high official. Punishment may include, but is not limited to: Imprisonment for up to twenty years, forced labor, assignment to an SS punishment battalion, execution by hanging, execution by firing squad, the stripping of all awards and decorations, the stripping of rank, and the dishonorable discharge from SS service. If found not guilty, said persons may be honorably discharged. All is effective immediately,"

"Ich möchte mal kurz später mit Ihnen sprechen, Herr, wenn ich könnte,"
"I would like to have a word with you later, sir, if I might,"

"Ich werde sagen, daß Sie können. Die Wegsachen gehen, Sie werden zuvor diese verdammte Stelle lang leiten. Kann ich nichts machen? Ist ich, die genaue Kleidung auf meinem von mir von einem aristokratischen Bastard wie sich, einem niedrigen Scharführer dabei, genommenen Rücken zu haben? Ich kann Sie, Hautt, beruhigen,"
"I'll say you can. The way things are going, you'll be running this damned place before long. Can I do nothing? Am I to have the very clothes on my back taken from me by an aristocratic bastard like yourself, a lowly Scharführer at that? I can assure you, Hautt,"

"...Ich kann Sie beruhigen, daß ich mein Bestes tun werde, um zu sehen, scheitern Sie,"
"...I can assure you that I am going to do my best to see you fail,"

"Sohn einer Hündin!"
"Son of a bitch!"

"Es gibt hier nichts! Keine bewaffneten Russen, keine Partisanen. Nichts! Wie können wir einen Krieg gewinnen, wenn wir auf unseren dicken Eseln sitzen, die den ganzen Tag Juden verbrennen?"
"There's nothing here! No armed Russians, no partisans. Nothing! How can we win a war if we sit on our fat asses burning Jews all day?"

"Was ist das? Hast du etwas gegen brennende Juden? Du siehst selbst wie ein Jude aus, du mörderischer Verräterbastard!"
"What's that? You have something against burning Jews? You look like a Jew yourself, you murderous traitor bastard!"

"Lügner! Ich werde dich töten!"
"Liar! I'll kill you!"

"Lügner."
"Liar."

[Otto Wolff]

The Kriminalkommissar nodded at the Obersturmführer in response to his greeting, not bothering with the formalities of saluting with the man anymore. Otto was sure he had arrived more than just slightly late and the mere notion made him feel irritated, even when Obersturmführer Schneider seemed to be at a complete ease with just enjoying his cigarette. In true German fashion, Otto was always very punctual and organized and truly abhorred people who could not keep up with timetables and arrangements. The still lingering pain on his left temple did not help matters any and he was sure that he sounded quite blunt when he greeted the Schneider. "Und guter Tag zu Ihnen, Obersturmführer." There was a measure of irritated sharpness to the Gestapo officer's voice and the man sighed as he hooked a thumb under his belt. "Meine Entschuldigungen für das Verspäten geschah etwas direkt im letzten Moment," Otto said very matter-of-factly and secretly scolded himself for the constantly surly tone of voice. The corner of his left eye twitched involuntarily and Otto tried to calm himself down, letting the irritation go in one long exhale of breath.

"Dieser Gestank in der Luft ... bekommt es ganz das Verschlimmern, nicht wahr?" the man made a conscious effort to sound more amiable this time and he arched an eyebrow as he continued. "Ich erzählte gerade Brenner wie..." A sudden commotion cut the man's sentence short and Otto turned towards the source of the angry shouts. The crowd that had previously surrounded the site of the executions had now dispersed and Otto shifted around just in time to witness a familiar Scharführer, no other than Friedrich Hautt, attacking another member of the SS with something resembling... an umbrella. "Helvetes jävlar!" Otto cursed under his breath in Swedish. An all-out fight had broken out in the matter of seconds as the soldiers abandoned their game of football to take part in the scuffle. The Kriminalkommissar did not even glance at Schneider, he already knew that the man had noticed the same as he had and that no communication was needed. He had already veered around and started moving towards the combatants, knowing that Schneider was right there next to him.

Otto's eyes burned with dark anger as each one of his long, determined strides took the man closer to the fight and his hand went for the Luger on his belt, fingers working on the button of the holster. "Fy fan idiotiskt barnen och deras dumma lilla spelen. Jag skulle skjuta dem alla om det var upp till mig, de är inte ens förtjänar att kallas tyska soldater," Otto growled, mostly to himself. The times when Otto spoke Swedish were few and rare and usually meant that the man was quite roally pissed off. Slipping the Luger from it's holster, Otto's face was a mere mask of stone when he flipped the safety off and pointed the pistol towards the sky, pulling the trigger two times. The loud cracks of the gun were enough to draw the attention of most of the men taking part in the fight and they backed off. Several pairs of fearful eyes were now on the Obersturmführer and Kriminalkommissar making their way towards them and no doubt some of the soldiers were slowly realizing just what kind of trouble they had gotten themselves into.

Seeing such uncontrolled and brutish behaviour made Otto's blood boil. He had always taken great pride in just knowing that the German soldiers were kept under strict discipline and that any misbehaviour would be punished swiftly and justly. It disgusted him to see this bunch of men acting like a group of small school kids. Was this the standard of German soldiers now? "Was ist das? Sind Sie alle Hunde, bloße unlenksame Mischlingshunden? Ist das ein Hundekampf?" the Kriminalkommissar's voice was strong and it echoed from the walls of the nearby buildings, giving it an almost supernatural quality. The usual pleasant smoothness of his voice was now replaced by cold sharpness, fueled by anger and disgust. "Wenn Sie alle bestehen, sich dieser Weg benehmend, vielleicht sollten alle von Ihnen wie Hunde geschossen werden! Das kann eingeordnet werden. Beendigen Sie diesen Kampf, jetzt!"


Translations:

"Und guter Tag zu Ihnen, Obersturmführer."
"And good day to you, Obersturmführer."

"Meine Entschuldigungen für das Verspäten geschah etwas direkt im letzten Moment."
"My apologies for being late, something turned up right at the last moment."

"Dieser Gestank in der Luft ... bekommt es ganz das Verschlimmern, nicht wahr?"
"This stench in the air... it's getting quite aggravating, isn't it?"

"Ich erzählte gerade Brenner wie..."
"I was just telling Brenner how..."

"Helvetes jävlar!"
"Hell's devils!"

"Fy fan idiotiskt barnen och deras dumma lilla spelen. Jag skulle skjuta dem alla om det var upp till mig, de är inte ens förtjänar att kallas tyska soldater."
'God damn idiotic children and their stupid little games. I would shoot all of them if it was up to me, they are not even worthy of being called German soldiers.'

"Was ist das? Sind Sie alle Hunde, bloße unlenksame Mischlingshunden? Ist das ein Hundekampf?"
"What is this? Are you all dogs, mere unruly mongrels? Is this a dogfight?"

"Wenn Sie alle bestehen, sich dieser Weg benehmend, vielleicht sollten alle von Ihnen wie Hunde geschossen werden! Das kann eingeordnet werden. Beendigen Sie diesen Kampf, jetzt!"
"If you all insist behaving this way, maybe all of you should be shot like dogs! That can be arranged. Break up this fight, now!"

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post:

The following CP has been issued:

Hautt - 4CP

Wolff - 4CP

Schneider - 2CP

-JT