The, not so pleasant, stroll [Raf]

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

OOC: Raf I figured we start the first thread for this area, hope that's ok.

IC: Edward was rushing a bit, he wasn't behind schedule, but being on time left too much room for error to create just such an image. He pulled his tunic on rather abruptly, he'd button it in the vehicle, pulled his cap down on his head, a bit off centered, and checked his sidearms, he never went anywhere without at least one of them. His boots were a bit sqeaky and had yet to be broken in. They were hichly shined and he had only worn them once, when he tried them on initially, he had been saving them for that special occassion, only pulling them out of the box a couple times a week to add a bit more polish and spit to them, they shined like a pair of black mirrors, but that also meant the slightest scuff on them would show up all too easily. straightening his cap as he rapidly decended the steps to the door he looked over to a few other men in the lobby area, one of them being of the small few that didn't hate him, also the man usually tasked with being his driver, when Ed nodded to the man in a fashion to tell him it's time to go, he simply shook his head and pointed outside. It Seems the Sturmbannführer had sent a personal vehicle for McMillan, including the driver to go with it. Ed looked out at the man outside and swallowed hard, this was new, and therefore he was uneasy about it. He pulled off his cap and combed his hair clumsily as he stepped outside, replacing his cap and starting on his buttons. The Driver opened the door and Edward stepped into the back seat of the vehicle, it was a bit cramped for his stocky frame, but he would manage. The driver slid into the front seat easily and withing a couple seconds the vehicle lurched forward, maybe he was indeed late to meet his commander.

As they sped on down the road Edward looked on at those they passed, the areas he had been accustomed to. Eventually they escaped all of those areas, they were heading in a direction the Sturmscharführer had never ventired to before, mainly because he didn't have the rank on his collar to allow him such a pleasure. His heart rate and breathing picked up a bit. "Wo sind wir geführt?" He asked, there was no reply. "Wird der Sturmbannführer uns treffen?" again, nothing. "Sollte ich ein Geschenk bringen?" there was no response from the man up front. Edward pondered a bit, What's with the silent treatment? He reached over the front seat and grabbed the rearview mirror, adjusting it quickly so that he could see the driver's face before slumping back down in the back seat. "Sprechen Sie je?" he asked with a serious look upon his face. The Driver slowed the small vehicle to a stop and quietly turned to view Edward in the rearview mirror. He took a deep breath, readjusted the mirror and began again on his way to thier destination.

Edward remained uneasy for the remainder of the journey, asking the random question here and there, but always the same response, nothing. Eventually they pulled into the drive of a very nice manor, overly decorated with Nazi banners and the like. There was an armed guard at all the entrances, the balconies had them as well. Not to mention the pair of checkpoints from the road to the parking area just to get this far. There also seemed to be a large patrol that stayed just on the otherside of the woodline. Where ever they had arrived, it was no joke and whoever was inside, was indeed of great importance. The driver exited the vehicle, straightened his uniform and just walked off to a smaller building to the rear of the parking area, there were several lavish vehicles, heck they even had their own quard. Edward stepped out, alone, wondering just what he was supposed to be doing, he heard a door click open and a couple footsteps, he turned to see nothing from either of the entrances he could locate, glancing around he noticed a balcony door had been opened, hopefully who ever stepped out could give him a bit of direction.



TRANSLATIONS:
Wo sind wir geführt?
Where are we headed?

Wird der Sturmbannführer uns treffen?
Will the Sturmbannführer be meeting us?

Sollte ich ein Geschenk bringen?
Should I be bringing a gift?

Sprechen Sie je?
Do you ever speak?

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

The clapping of jackboots echoed windingly along the polished wooden floor of the command point, the old manor, once home to a flourished family of aristocrats now played an important role to the Nazis. Officers littered each and every room, with senior sergeants waddling in between the corridors now and again awaiting to be briefed on their orders, further more, to stay out of ear shot of important matters. These were important times and with recent spy activity that had jeopardised a few of the German assaults in Normandy, everyone was under suspicion and no-one was to be trusted.

It had been a few weeks since the SS-Sturmbannführer had officially returned back to the divisional headquarters of the Waffen-SS Das Reich, mainly due to a failed assassination attempt he’d thinly avoided with the cost of his life. Sturmbannführer Wolfram had retired from his office early one night, keys in hand, unaccompanied by a guard and approached his vehicle parked right outside of the office complex, with a mere two-minute walk between point A and point B. Dressed in the standard German tunics, two males ambushed him with means of cloak and dagger beneath the blanket of nightfall…

It was here a struggle ensued and the Sturmbannführer’s face became scarred from one of the assailant’s blades, ripping straight through his pale flesh and narrowly missing his eye. Fortunately, the Sturmbannführer slipped free from one of the assailant’s grasps and with combat experience under his belt, especially from close encounters with the renowned Edward McMillan back in the day, he was more than capable of leveraging the second assailant’s weight to the ground. The rest was written in black and white, as the Sturmbannführer upholstered his P38 and gunned both of the men at point-black range without hesitation. It was later revealed that both men were indeed infiltrators, suspected to have stolen tunics from the dead soldiers in Berlin, as one of the men were recognised for conducting numerous partisan activities in Germany. So eyewitnesses had foretold months earlier.

Now the Sturmbannführer walked with another war-wound, this time branded across his face from the jagged cold steel of a German partisan, how ironic? Adjusting his collar, the Sturmbannführer observed a large map of Normandy stretched out across a large table, with a desk-lamp illuminating the cold sheet of paper. “Die Briten haben Verteidigung innerhalb dieses Gebiets gekräftigt…” the Sturmbannführer said firmly, whilst circling a large ring around a portion of the map with his pencil, giving a long stare towards one of the SS-Hauptsturmführers at the table, before continuing. “Mir ist durch das Oberkommando gesagt worden, dass das Das Reich diese Außenumfänge vor dem Vorrücken mit der Rüstung kräftigen sollte, um die britischen Positionen zu nehmen” The Sturmbannführer once again circled areas on the large-scale map for the officers to observe momentarily, as he continued to explain. “So, ich sage, dass solch ein Manöver Selbstmord ohne Luftunterstützung sein würde, weil die Briten - in der Artillerie über das Feld gegraben haben, und Ja, das wurde im Aufklärungsbericht geschrieben. So werden wir in Position umziehen, teilen dreißig Meilen hinter dem Ziel in Zonen auf und brechen in zwei Bildungen, derjenige ein, der die Stadt lange genug halten und die Hauptaufmerksamkeit des Feinds ablenken kann - sie werden uns dort, während die zweite Bildungsflanke direkt für ihre Artillerie erwarten. Wenig Widerstand sollte getroffen werden, wie das Umgebungsgebiet nichts als Waldland ist und die Briten dumm genug gewesen sind, um ihre Kräfte auf dem Hauptanschluss zu widmen”

Pausing, the Sturmbannführer looked amongst the officers slowly nodding and subtly agreeing with the revised plan he had in mind, before Sturmbannführer Wolfram made sure they did understand. “Verstanden?” he questioned firmly, as all the officers straightened up and spat out a firm response in session. “Ja - Ja - Ja”, then the room’s tension was broken as a knock at the door evaded the men’s attention from the map before themselves, with a young courier (messenger) opening the door to step in. “Sturmbannführer Wolfram…”[/I] the young man addressed, giving a short nod, not having to say no-more, as the Sturmbannführer understood his guest had arrived.

Picking up his peaked officer’s cap from off the table, the Sturmbannführer cleared his throat and walked calmly away from the table, with all the officers standing straight for a brief few seconds whilst he departed their company. It had been a while since he’d seen SS-Sturmscharführer McMillan and was quite looking forwards to the acquaintance with the fellow soldier.

Broadly walking along the corridor, the Sturmbannführer took a nifty shortcut out of the building towards the car-park and avoided any major confrontation with any of the higher ranking officers during his brief walk out of the building. He couldn’t bare the thought of being caught for a brief chat, someone he’d have to lie and pretend too, acting as if their tactical planning was superior for the war effort. Most of them hadn’t a clue and none of them had any combat experience to say otherwise. Breaking from amidst of his thoughts, the Sturmbannführer grinned widely at the sight of a lonesome and lost Sturmscharführer outside and immediately waltzed up towards the finely dressed man abruptly.

“Sturmscharführer McMillan…” he said boldly as he approached the male, his eyes keeping firmly stuck to the Sturmscharführer’s the whole while. “Wie war Ihre Reise?” he asked politely, the scar on his face probably the most noticeable thing the Sturmscharführer would have seen upon first encounter after their last acquaintance. The Sturmbannführer was slowly looking more and more war-ridden, he’d already survived a partisan attack in Munich and now an assassination attempt? It seemed as if his rank carried more burden than good, walking the streets even proved eventful. He’d have to be careful all the time.

Translations:[/b]

Die Briten haben Verteidigung innerhalb dieses Gebiets gekräftigt…
~ The British have fortified defences within this area...

Mir ist durch das Oberkommando gesagt worden, dass das Das Reich diese Außenumfänge vor dem Vorrücken mit der Rüstung kräftigen sollte, um die britischen Positionen zu nehmen.
~ I have been told by high command that the Das Reich should fortify these outer perimeters, before advancing with armour to take the British positions.

So, ich sage, dass solch ein Manöver Selbstmord ohne Luftunterstützung sein würde, weil die Briten - in der Artillerie über das Feld gegraben haben, und Ja, das wurde im Aufklärungsbericht geschrieben. So werden wir in Position umziehen, teilen dreißig Meilen hinter dem Ziel in Zonen auf und brechen in zwei Bildungen, derjenige ein, der die Stadt lange genug halten und die Hauptaufmerksamkeit des Feinds ablenken kann - sie werden uns dort, während die zweite Bildungsflanke direkt für ihre Artillerie erwarten. Wenig Widerstand sollte getroffen werden, wie das Umgebungsgebiet nichts als Waldland ist und die Briten dumm genug gewesen sind, um ihre Kräfte auf dem Hauptanschluss zu widmen.

~ Well, I say such a manoeuvre would be suicide without aerial support, because the British have dug-in artillery across the field and yes, this was written in the reconnaissance report. So we shall move into position thirty miles behind the target zone and break into two formations, one that can hold the town long enough and distract the enemy's main attention - they will be expecting us there, whilst the second formation flank directly for their artillery. Little resistance should be met, as the surrounding area is nothing but woodlands and the British have been foolish enough to dedicate their forces on the main line.

Verstanden?
~ Understood?

Wie war Ihre Reise?
~ How was your journey?

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

There was no need, Edward saw the only familiar face he could probably pick out in the entire building, it was his commander, someone he'd like to think a friend, and possibly a close one, Sturmbannführer Wolfram. As always, dressed impecably, carried himself with a presence demanding respect, he had more than earned it, still just being around the man could humble a raging water fall. Edward swallowed hard and snapped his heels together, he was still slightly uneasy about the setting, but it seemed it should go well, at least he wasn't going to be shot at...hopefully. He threw out a proper salute and stood proud, he didn't much care for the tradition, mainly because most of the people on the recieving end of it had done nothing for the honor, this one had, time and time again. Even if he had done nothing else, Edward would salute him simply from what he knew of the man first hand.

Now there seemed to be a new scar on his commander, this one was of the physical nature, his last one was strictly emotional, as far as McMillan knew anyway, unknown to most, but this one would be starring you right in the face, literally. The scar tissue seemed to have been welded on, a very grusome shape for a blade, it must have either been dull or serated, there was a small degree of tearing in the form of it, something most wouldn't be able to pick up on. None the elss it was there and Edward didn't want to stare, but it did run down the lenght of his face right over his left eye. "Es war. ..uh...different Herr, ein bisschen ungewöhnlich, aber alle sind gut jetzt. Wie machen Sie diesen feinen Morgen?" he asked, a smile starting to creep onto his own face as his Commander closed the distance between them.

Whether or not Wolfram wanted the salute it was there, and whether or not he turned it away would not bother Edward, he was going to shake the man's hand as soon as he could, so long as he didn't have to forcefully do so. Edward's spirit was high, he still had his keepsake close to his heart, and now the man he looked up to the most had a rather similar scar. Guess not even the best ones could get out unscathed, and the ones that did, probably never saw a single bit of combat...well maybe the odd sniper here and there.



TRASNLATIONS:
Es war. ..uh...different Herr, ein bisschen ungewöhnlich, aber alle sind gut jetzt. Wie machen Sie diesen feinen Morgen?
It was...uh...different sir, a bit odd, but all is well now. How are you doing this fine morning?

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

The scar upon his face had been hindered by a serrated kitchen knife, an eight-inch blade that tarnished his blood at the end of that long night. It wasn’t the most proudest of wounds he’d received during his duty for the fatherland, but respectfully so, it was now a constant reminder that not even two men beneath the blanket of darkness could kill this officer so easily. Sure, they’d managed to carve their knife jaggedly and with amateur fashion across his face, almost looking like an inverted ‘S’, along with the pigment colour of his iris being stained an crimson red, but once again, it stood as a constant reminder that the officer could handle himself.

His red iris most probably come off more intimidating than sympathetic, where the tip of the blade had somehow cut the inside of his eye, just beneath his upper eyelid, causing a small bleed within the eyeball which amazingly didn’t blind him or cause him any discomfort, but rather tint his once baby-blue iris to a crimson red. Things did seem a little blurry at times with his left eye, but the majority of his vision was perfectly fine and no where near enough to have him dragged from out of the military for a slightly blurred vision in one eye that bugged him every now and again. A small price they wasn’t willing to pay, to replace a good commander.

The salute was more than honoured by the Sturmbannführer, as he drew his legs to a close after speaking briefly and knocked his chin-up to salute the man before himself, as good as he’d salute Hitler himself. Before him stood a formidable opponent, soldier and friend. Someone he respected greatly for the loyalty and experience they held. A brief smile passed the Sturmbannführer’s face once he’d lowered his arm from the salute and stepped closer to hold his hand out for a good firm shake, hoping the atmosphere would dull somewhat now they were in one another’s company, quietly.

Listening to the Sturmscharführer talk of the odd journey he had been received, the Sturmbannführer pulled a faint wondering look, before nodding and answering the man’s question appointed to himself in return. “Ich, bin Sturmscharführer gut” he responded, before slightly being distracted by a dozen or more Waffen-SS soldiers loading into the back of a convoy truck, with a SS-Scharführer rallying the men into the transport truck quickly and swiftly, merely using his voice. Glancing between Sturmscharführer and the transport truck being loaded with soldiers, Sturmbannführer Wolfram suddenly pulled a devious grin whilst he spoke. “Ich nannte Sie wirklich hier heute, um die Förderungen Ihres Zugs zu verhandeln, aber wie bilden Sie sich das Aufholen zuerst ein? Ich bin sicher, dass Sie Berlin richtig noch nicht gesehen haben?” the Sturmbannführer asked, the grin smugly stamped across his face still.

Turning to look to the convoy truck, he spoke whilst he gestured for them to walk, Sturmbannführer Wolfram taking the first step slowly. “Der Konvoi geht in eine lokale Sweedish Stadt nicht, dass weit von hier vermutlich es einige Ortsansässige homing der Widerstand und jüdisch gegeben hat. Wir müssen vorsichtig treten, obwohl Sweden Deutschland einen Augenblick lang erfüllt und deshalb ein neutrales Seitenstück blieb, aber das uns nicht aufhört, die Endlösung - Recht vervollkommnend? the Sturmbannführer spoke with a mean-tone, looking to the Sturmscharführer to say; “Ich habe die Ordnung für diesen Konvoi gegeben, um die Stadt und instate etwas Rücksicht für die Anwesenheit von Schutzstaffel hier zu suchen, wir können Sachen unterwegs besprechen” he said firmly, their approach to the truck drawing closer.

Turning to Sturmscharführer McMillan, he spoke again quickly. “Schade, wenn Sie schlecht über heutige Ereignisse Sturmscharführer informiert wurden, aber hat es einige Löcher in unserer Sicherheit gegeben, und ich konnte nicht den Misserfolg dieser Operation riskier” he revealed soon after, awaiting for the man to respond, before they continued to take command of the convoy themselves…



Translations:[/b]

Ich, bin Sturmscharführer gut.
~ I am good, Sturmscharführe.

Ich nannte Sie wirklich hier heute, um die Förderungen Ihres Zugs zu verhandeln, aber wie bilden Sie sich das Aufholen zuerst ein?
~ I did call you here today to negotiate your platoon's advancements, but how do you fancy catching up first?

Der Konvoi geht in eine lokale Swedish Stadt nicht, dass weit von hier vermutlich es einige Ortsansässige homing der Widerstand und jüdisch gegeben hat. Wir müssen vorsichtig treten, obwohl Sweeden Deutschland einen Augenblick lang erfüllt und deshalb ein neutrales Seitenstück blieb, aber das uns nicht aufhört, die Endlösung - Recht vervollkommnend?
~ The convoy is heading into a local Swedish town not that far from here, supposedly there has been some locals homing the resistance and Jewish. We have to tread carefully though, Sweden is momentarily complying with Germany and therefore remained a neutral counterpart, but that doesn't stop us perfecting the final solution - right?

Ich habe die Ordnung für diesen Konvoi gegeben, um die Stadt und instate etwas Rücksicht für die Anwesenheit von Schutzstaffel hier zu suchen, wir können Sachen unterwegs besprechen.
~ I have given the order for this convoy to search the town and instate some respect for the Schutzstaffel's presence here, we can discuss matters on the way.

Schade, wenn Sie schlecht über heutige Ereignisse Sturmscharführer informiert wurden, aber hat es einige Löcher in unserer Sicherheit gegeben, und ich konnte nicht den Misserfolg dieser Operation riskieren.
~ Sorry if you was ill informed of today's events Sturmscharführer, but there has been a few holes in our security and I could not risk this operation's failure.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

His commander seemed to welcome him in high regards, the meeting in itself was flattering to McMillan. But the moment was brief, happy none the less. "Das wäre schöner Herr, ist es zu lang gewesen." He said as he spun slightly on his heels to face the convoy truck and walked alongside his commander. The last of the men were piling into the truck and preparing for the events that would soon unfold. A bit of an announcement, the SS had a tenadncy to make to more physical statements as to thier presence compared to most everyone else. Nothing out of the ordinary, granted it wasn't exactly the type of fight Edward liked, or even approved of for that matter, but it was odd how everything seemed alright next to his commander. He'd kick open the gates of hell for Rafael, and hold the devil in place while the man beat the brakes off of satan himself. This probably wasn't the best effect on Edward, he's biggest concern was that innocence was protected, but Wolfram had some aura about him that seemed to make McMillan fell alright with whatever was going on, this would more than likely be to his advantage in the times to come. "Sollte uns im geringsten Herrn nicht aufhalten, würde ich geehrt werden, Sie zu begleiten." and he honestly meant it.

He nodded to his Sturmbannführer as he climbed into the vehicle that would take them into town, likely the same town Edward had riden through to get here, but who knew how long the ride would be, could be an entirely different location all together, although if it was he would consider suggesting the one he passed, it wasn't exactly your model neighborhood from the Nazi eye. "Vergeben Sie mich wenn meine Auswahl der Themen, unsere Fahrt mit ist eine arme Wahl anzufangen, und fühlen Sie frei, mich am Herrn irgendeines Moments aufzuhalten. Neugierig obwohl, Ihre Verletzung, ich haben nie es gesehen, bevor aber es anschaut, zum größtem Teil geheilt. Ich hoffe, dass es nichts zu schrecklich war." he said as he looked to his great leader. Could Edward look upon himself he would be wondering why he smiled so much at the idea of a "Final Solution" such an idea seemed so barbaric to him, maybe it was the lack of combat he had seen in the recent months, it was almost saddening how accustomed to the horrid tradition he had become, but a tradition that was needed all to much at this day in age, seems he was born in the right era and had so far made the right choices to put such abilities in motion.

His thoughts had carried him away fro mthe moment and he was knocked back to reality as the vehicle lurched forward out of the parking area. Ed reached over and pulled the door closed, fidgiting in his seat for a moment to get comfortable for the ride, or at least as comfoprtable as he could be. He almost felt as if he had forgotten something important, but hopefully his rifle wouldn't be needed for the days first events. Rafael had mentioned holes in the security, that had explained such a high volume of guards at the building, it was enough to fell safe behind, course with such a juicy target sitting behind it, such precautions were to be expected to be taken.




TRANSLATIONS:
Das wäre schöner Herr, ist es zu lang gewesen.
That would be lovely sir, it has been too long.

Sollte uns im geringsten Herrn nicht aufhalten, würde ich geehrt werden, Sie zu begleiten.
Shouldn't stop us in the slightest sir, I'd be honored to accompany you.

Vergeben Sie mich wenn meine Auswahl der Themen, unsere Fahrt mit ist eine arme Wahl anzufangen, und fühlen Sie frei, mich am Herrn irgendeines Moments aufzuhalten. Neugierig obwohl, Ihre Verletzung, ich haben nie es gesehen, bevor aber es anschaut, zum größtem Teil geheilt. Ich hoffe, dass es nichts zu schrecklich war.
Forgive me if my selection of topics to start our ride with is a poor choice, and feel free to stop me at any moment sir. Curious though, your injury, I've never seen it before but it looks, for the most part healed. I hope it was nothing too horrible.

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

OOC: Not my best post. Sorry!

The men had by now piled into the back of the convoy truck, a healthy number of soldiers that would estimate a rough fourteen to fifteen at first glance, most probably more than enough for their dealings in the accustomed small Swedish town they were on route too. The SS-Scharführer that was loading the men noticed the Sturmbannführer and Sturmscharführer’s approach and immediately approached the two men with a stiff salute, the clacking of his boots causing Sturmbannführer Wolfram to shudder a little. He’d heard the noise way too much for his liking as of late.

The SS-Scharführer then proceeded to speak quickly, knowing they were fixed to a schedule: “Der Konvoi ist bereiter herr Sturmbannführer!”[/I] the young non-commissioned officer reported. Sturmbannführer Wolfram gave a short nod of approval and responded with a firm merciless tone, something he didn’t display when talking to Sturmscharführer McMillan; “Gehen Sie Scharführer weiter, wir werden dem Konvoi folgen” the Sturmbannführer ordered, watching as the young man saluted once again, before quickly walking off towards the front of the convoy truck’s cabin, where he’d accompany the driver.

Glancing to the Sturmscharführer with a brief pause, the Sturmbannführer held his arm out towards a kubelwagen sitting idly behind the truck, the driver waiting patiently. “Wir Sturmscharführer?” the Sturmbannführer gestured for them to get into the vehicle awaiting their presence, the Sturmbannführer slowly walking towards one of the rear passenger doors in the process, his cold hand unclasping the lock upon the door, as he pulled open the heavy duty door to the vehicle. Taking his peaked officer’s cap off, the Sturmbannführer shifted a foot into the vehicle, leveraging his weight down slowly into the vehicle, whilst his spare hand combed the back of his tunic to lay flat against his buttocks at the same time, not wanting to crease the back of his uniform so early in the day.

Shuffling within his seat, the Sturmbannführer gained some comfort, before giving the driver quite the stare for not opening the doors for the two men. The curtsey certainly not gone unnoticed. Immediately however, the driver pulled away as soon as they had sat down, sparing no time for incompetence and followed the convoy leading the way, usually the vehicle attaining the officers would lead such a convoy, but with matters regarding such failures as of late - particularly with the Sturmbannführer almost being assassinated - he was quite keen for them to follow the convoy, rather than lead.

Sturmscharführer McMillan was first to break the silence, inquisitively asking of the apparent scar upon his face. The Sturmbannführer broke another devious grin and gave the man a long look beside himself, before answering. “Ich habe Gerüchte unter den Männern über meine Narbe, mein Auge gehört. Sie sagen, dass der Schwanz des Teufels mich im Gesicht fing, weil ich zu nahe hinten folgte” the Sturmbannführer said with a mysterious tone to his voice, his eyes glancing to the driver who was curiously watching via’ the rear-view mirror, his ears twitching to every word they said. Sturmbannführer Wolfram grinned to himself, slowly looking towards Sturmscharführer McMillan, his red iris retracting a little in the process. “Ich konnte Ihnen Sturmscharführer McMillan die Wahrheit sagen, aber es würde die Gerüchte zerstören, die ich höre. Außerdem ist ein Mann nicht größer, wenn sie das unbekannte fürchten?” he asked curiously, giving a wink soon after.

Brushing a few dog hairs from off his peaked officer’s cap, the Sturmbannführer subtly thought about his two new dogs, before asking a curious question of his own to the Sturmscharführer. “Erzählen Sie mir Sturmscharführer, ließen Sie irgendwelche Freunde oder Familie auf dem otherside der Leitung zurück?” the Sturmbannführer questioned quite curiously, not knowing whether the man had any family or loved ones he abandoned to fight a better cause…






Translations:[/b]

Der Konvoi ist bereiter herr Sturmbannführer!
~ The convoy is ready herr Sturmbannführer!

Gehen Sie Scharführer weiter, wir werden dem Konvoi folgen.
~ Proceed Scharführer, we will be following the convoy.

Wir Sturmscharführer?
~ Shall we Sturmscharführer?

Ich habe Gerüchte unter den Männern über meine Narbe, mein Auge gehört. Sie sagen, dass der Schwanz des Teufels mich im Gesicht fing, weil ich zu nahe hinten folgte.
~ I have heard rumours amongst the men about my scar, my eye. They say the devil's tail caught me in the face, because I was following too close behind.

Ich konnte Ihnen Sturmscharführer McMillan die Wahrheit sagen, aber es würde die Gerüchte zerstören, die ich höre. Außerdem ist ein Mann nicht größer, wenn sie das unbekannte fürchten?
~ I could tell you the truth Sturmscharführer McMillan, but it would ruin the rumours I hear. Besides, is not a man bigger when they fear the unknown?

Erzählen Sie mir Sturmscharführer, ließen Sie irgendwelche Freunde oder Familie auf dem otherside der Leitung zurück?
~ Tell me Sturmscharführer, did you leave any friends or family behind on the otherside of the wire?

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

The 'Devil's Tail' as his commander put it was an unknown rumor to Edward, but indeed a lovely title for such an event, whatever that may have been. He simply smiled at the sound of it and nodded "Deuten Sie genommenen Herr, der Schwanz der Teufel. ..rather anpassend, gibt dem imagineation genug aber begrenzt es zu den befürchteteren Möglichkeiten, mag ich es Herr." he really did like the cleverness of the idea, one that if asked about he would indeed spread within the ranks. Then the conversation took a different turn, one that oddly enough had yet to come up with McMillan, it was almost shocking to him now being in the moment of it that not a single soul had raised the question before. "Familie? Gut war dass etwas, das ich in anschaute, so weit, als ich gekannt habe, dass ich keinen gehabt habe, aber dann ein ungewöhnlicher Gefährte hat mir eines Tages genähert, beanspruchend meinen Vater untreu zu meiner Mutter war, und dass er das Ergebnis von solchen Handlungen war. Unnötig zu sagen, dass es über nicht gut gegangen ist, aber der Mann passt der Rechnung, hat sogar den Nachnamen gehabt und die Einstellung, zu ihm. ..I Spucke in seinem Gesicht für solche Anklagen und ist gelaufen ab zu passen, hat nie ihn wieder nach jenem Tag gesehen." his tone was a bit odd, he had never spoken of the subject before, to anyone, but he made it a point to leave out the fact that this person was a soldier in the American Army. He didn't want his commander thinking it would afect his abilities on the field of battle, and it wouldn't, but there was no need to place the possibility of doubt in his Commander's for him.

Then a more complex subect came from it, friends. Edward had a couple of friends, every single one of them were in the military as well, this would be a difficult topic to end on a good note. He took a deep breath before delving into it. "Gut haben Herr, ich ein paar Freunde gehabt, glaube ich, dass Sie sogar ein Paar von ihnen getroffen haben..." he paused for a moment to view Rafael's reaction to the idea that men McMillan had associated himself with had once faced the man as well alongside Edward. He continued none the less, even if this was a bad idea, he had asked, and Edward wasn't going to hide anything from him, well except Colly. No one would ever know of his close relationship with Stephen, not even Sturmbannführer Rafael Zacharia Wolfram. "...There war ein Pilot, ziemlich guter Bursche, ziemlich eifrig, dieser Ingenieurbursche, vielleicht die einzige andere Person, so viel Handlung gesehen zu haben, als mich selbst er dort war, als ich Sie für die sehr erste Zeit getroffen habe. Dieser junge Mann, hatte ihn gewusst, bevor ich angeworben habe, hat er mit mir aber nur für eine kurze Zeitspanne eingeholt. Es gab einen Offizier ebenso, war Er dort, als wir uns an jenem Fluss getroffen haben, der kreuzt. ..sorry um jenen Schulterverletzungsherrn. Das ist es Herr." he finished, whiping his mouth, a bit of saliva having ammassed there from the long windedness of his answers, maybe he was nervous speaking of such things, but he'd rather sound like he was talking too much than trying to hide something.



TRASNLATIONS:
Deuten Sie genommenen Herr, der Schwanz der Teufel. ..rather anpassend, gibt dem imagineation genug aber begrenzt es zu den befürchteteren Möglichkeiten, mag ich es Herr.
Point taken sir, the Devils' Tail...rather suiting, gives enough to the imagineation but limits it to the more feared possibilities, I like it sir.

Familie? Gut war dass etwas, das ich in anschaute, so weit, als ich gekannt habe, dass ich keinen gehabt habe, aber dann ein ungewöhnlicher Gefährte hat mir eines Tages genähert, beanspruchend meinen Vater untreu zu meiner Mutter war, und dass er das Ergebnis von solchen Handlungen war. Unnötig zu sagen, dass es über nicht gut gegangen ist, aber der Mann passt der Rechnung, hat sogar den Nachnamen gehabt und die Einstellung, zu ihm. ..I Spucke in seinem Gesicht für solche Anklagen und ist gelaufen ab zu passen, hat nie ihn wieder nach jenem Tag gesehen.
Family? Well that was something I was looking into, as far as I knew I had none, but then an odd fellow approached me one day, claiming my father was disloyal to my mother and that he was the result of such actions. Needless to say it didn't go over well, but the man fit the bill, even had the last name and the attitude to go with it...I spit in his face for such accusations and walked off, never saw him again after that day.

Gut haben Herr, ich ein paar Freunde gehabt, glaube ich, dass Sie sogar ein Paar von ihnen getroffen haben...
Well sir, I had a few friends, I believe you have even met a couple of them...

...There war ein Pilot, ziemlich guter Bursche, ziemlich eifrig, dieser Ingenieurbursche, vielleicht die einzige andere Person, so viel Handlung gesehen zu haben, als mich selbst er dort war, als ich Sie für die sehr erste Zeit getroffen habe. Dieser junge Mann, hatte ihn gewusst, bevor ich angeworben habe, hat er mit mir aber nur für eine kurze Zeitspanne eingeholt. Es gab einen Offizier ebenso, war Er dort, als wir uns an jenem Fluss getroffen haben, der kreuzt. ..sorry um jenen Schulterverletzungsherrn. Das ist es Herr.
...There was a pilot, pretty good guy, rather eager, this engineer guy, possibly the only other person to have seen as much action as myself he was there when I met you for the very first time. This young man, used to know him before I enlisted, he caught up with me but only for a brief period of time. There was an officer as well, He was there when we met at that river crossing...sorry about that shoulder wound sir. That's it sir.

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

OOC: You can control the convoy's men if you like. Such as them jumping out of the truck and forcefully rallying the occupants of homes out on the street, searching for weapons, Jews, etc...

Gives you a bit more to write if you need it.



Gently stroking his hand across the flat surface of his peaked officer’s cap, that neatly rested on his lap, the Sturmbannführer idly plucked and brushed any hairs or fluff from off his hat. His hands were making devil’s work, idly picking and fiddling with his officer’s hat against his lap. It wasn’t a sign of being nervous, nor’ boredom for that matter, but rather implications that the Sturmbannführer was quite a thoughtful man when sitting quietly. That was until his questions were being answered, after the smart comment he made about the devil’s tail - although, it was simply a rumour he’d heard to begin with. A good one at that. Better than some of the rumours he was hearing, particularly after his son died…

The Sturmscharführer spoke lengthily and awkwardly, whilst the entire time Sturmbannführer Wolfram remained deadly quiet, just listening to the man speak. Giving him the time to say what he had to say, before opening his own mouth. “Bruder? Ich beobachte am besten mich dann…” the Sturmbannführer dryly joked, naturally assuming his brother was of American heritage alike himself and more so, being a fit young lad, drafted into the army to fight like any other willing young man. It didn’t take a scientist to put two and two together, he just hoped he wasn’t a pain in the arse like the Sturmscharführer beside him proved to be on the other side of the wire. The thoughts made Sturmbannführer Wolfram grin to himself, after what the two of them had been through, hell-bent on killing one another, it had now come to this? Sat beside one another, dressed in the same tunics, believing the same righteous antics their glorious fuehrer strove the way for Germany. Was this really the same man he was beside anymore?

As the Sturmscharführer spoke of friends and how Sturmbannführer Wolfram may know a few, he couldn’t help but look away quietly and wonder to himself; did he miss them? Would he even be able to carry out his duties on the battlefield properly - if faced with any of them ever again? They were questions that bugged the Sturmbannführer’s mind, but it was the Sturmbannführer’s belief that answered them and reassured him, such a man could follow god’s will for the benefit of the fatherland. The Sturmscharführer may not have been religious, neither was Sturmbannführer Wolfram, but they all shared the quality of hope and faith. Sturmbannführer Wolfram had both of these qualities bet on Edward, if such a man could befriend his enemy, then what was there to worry about?

Unable to respond to the Sturmscharführer’s answer about friends and the apology about the shoulder, the Sturmbannführer merely broke a weak smile and looked up ahead towards the small village now plain in sight. “Tun Sie die Männer glauben noch an mich... Sturmscharführer?” the Sturmbannführer asked in a soft tone, as if he were speaking from the heart for the first time to someone. His baby blue and crimson eye shifting to look towards the man beside himself, almost emotionally for a brief moment? As if a mere man had surfaced for a split second, beneath the hardened cold exterior of what portrayed a war mongrel; a man torn by war, by scars, vacant stares and merciless emotions. Just for that moment, a worried and caring man was sat beside Edward, asking if his men still had faith in their leader, after everything that had happened. The question was mainly asked in correspondence to what had happened with his son and the eventful roads that followed from the incident that day.

Drink, whores and slaughter. The Sturmbannführer had off-record lost count of the men, woman and children he’d taken his aggression out on - the slavics, the ethnics and the Jews deserved every piece of his temper. Perhaps he was wrong? They were but mere people too, human beings, but such thoughts in the mind of an SS commander were devastating. They were scum, a plague, nothing more than a rodent to the world. He had to stay strong.

Suddenly Sturmbannführer Wolfram turned his head away, feeling the mask slip a little, by now the convoy had reached the village and the Sturmbannführer was all too eager to exit the vehicle, not wanting to hear the answer from the Sturmscharführer. “Vergessen Sie, was ich - Treiber sagte, wird das tun” the Sturmbannführer ordered, with the kublewagen soon pulling over, whilst the convoy carried on for a few more yards before stopping further down the road. Opening the door quickly, the Sturmbannführer got out of the car and twisted his peaked officer’s cap down upon his head. The merciless and devious grin soon spreading across his face, as he unclipped the holster to his P38. Not wanting to take any chances.


Translations:[/b]

Bruder? Ich beobachte am besten mich dann…
~ Brother? I best watch myself then…

Tun Sie die Männer glauben noch an mich... Sturmscharführer?
~ Do the men still believe in me... Sturmscharführer?

Vergessen Sie, was ich - Treiber sagte, wird das tun.
~ Forget what I said - driver, this will do.

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

OOC: You can control the convoy's men if you like. Such as them jumping out of the truck and forcefully rallying the occupants of homes out on the street, searching for weapons, Jews, etc...

Gives you a bit more to write if you need it.



Gently stroking his hand across the flat surface of his peaked officer’s cap, that neatly rested on his lap, the Sturmbannführer idly plucked and brushed any hairs or fluff from off his hat. His hands were making devil’s work, idly picking and fiddling with his officer’s hat against his lap. It wasn’t a sign of being nervous, nor’ boredom for that matter, but rather implications that the Sturmbannführer was quite a thoughtful man when sitting quietly. That was until his questions were being answered, after the smart comment he made about the devil’s tail - although, it was simply a rumour he’d heard to begin with. A good one at that. Better than some of the rumours he was hearing, particularly after his son died…

The Sturmscharführer spoke lengthily and awkwardly, whilst the entire time Sturmbannführer Wolfram remained deadly quiet, just listening to the man speak. Giving him the time to say what he had to say, before opening his own mouth. “Bruder? Ich beobachte am besten mich dann…” the Sturmbannführer dryly joked, naturally assuming his brother was of American heritage alike himself and more so, being a fit young lad, drafted into the army to fight like any other willing young man. It didn’t take a scientist to put two and two together, he just hoped he wasn’t a pain in the arse like the Sturmscharführer beside him proved to be on the other side of the wire. The thoughts made Sturmbannführer Wolfram grin to himself, after what the two of them had been through, hell-bent on killing one another, it had now come to this? Sat beside one another, dressed in the same tunics, believing the same righteous antics their glorious fuehrer strove the way for Germany. Was this really the same man he was beside anymore?

As the Sturmscharführer spoke of friends and how Sturmbannführer Wolfram may know a few, he couldn’t help but look away quietly and wonder to himself; did he miss them? Would he even be able to carry out his duties on the battlefield properly - if faced with any of them ever again? They were questions that bugged the Sturmbannführer’s mind, but it was the Sturmbannführer’s belief that answered them and reassured him, such a man could follow god’s will for the benefit of the fatherland. The Sturmscharführer may not have been religious, neither was Sturmbannführer Wolfram, but they all shared the quality of hope and faith. Sturmbannführer Wolfram had both of these qualities bet on Edward, if such a man could befriend his enemy, then what was there to worry about?

Unable to respond to the Sturmscharführer’s answer about friends and the apology about the shoulder, the Sturmbannführer merely broke a weak smile and looked up ahead towards the small village now plain in sight. “Tun Sie die Männer glauben noch an mich... Sturmscharführer?” the Sturmbannführer asked in a soft tone, as if he were speaking from the heart for the first time to someone. His baby blue and crimson eye shifting to look towards the man beside himself, almost emotionally for a brief moment? As if a mere man had surfaced for a split second, beneath the hardened cold exterior of what portrayed a war mongrel; a man torn by war, by scars, vacant stares and merciless emotions. Just for that moment, a worried and caring man was sat beside Edward, asking if his men still had faith in their leader, after everything that had happened. The question was mainly asked in correspondence to what had happened with his son and the eventful roads that followed from the incident that day.

Drink, whores and slaughter. The Sturmbannführer had off-record lost count of the men, woman and children he’d taken his aggression out on - the slavics, the ethnics and the Jews deserved every piece of his temper. Perhaps he was wrong? They were but mere people too, human beings, but such thoughts in the mind of an SS commander were devastating. They were scum, a plague, nothing more than a rodent to the world. He had to stay strong.

Suddenly Sturmbannführer Wolfram turned his head away, feeling the mask slip a little, by now the convoy had reached the village and the Sturmbannführer was all too eager to exit the vehicle, not wanting to hear the answer from the Sturmscharführer. “Vergessen Sie, was ich - Treiber sagte, wird das tun” the Sturmbannführer ordered, with the kublewagen soon pulling over, whilst the convoy carried on for a few more yards before stopping further down the road. Opening the door quickly, the Sturmbannführer got out of the car and twisted his peaked officer’s cap down upon his head. The merciless and devious grin soon spreading across his face, as he unclipped the holster to his P38. Not wanting to take any chances.


Translations:[/b]

Bruder? Ich beobachte am besten mich dann…
~ Brother? I best watch myself then…

Tun Sie die Männer glauben noch an mich... Sturmscharführer?
~ Do the men still believe in me... Sturmscharführer?

Vergessen Sie, was ich - Treiber sagte, wird das tun.
~ Forget what I said - driver, this will do.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Edward smiled as his Sturmbannführer joked about his possible brother, well half-brother, McMillan still didn't believe the man, but maybe one day everything would come to light, but that day didn't look like it was going to be rearing its ugly head anytime soon. Then he heard a rather odd question, almost seeming a bit like his commander had felt guilty of something or maybe upset at himself, none the less Edward started to answer but before he could get a word out he was stopped, mouth gapping open. He wanted to answer, especially after hearing such a thing come from the man he had looked up to the most in this entire war, his mentor of sorts. He wanted to reassure him of the men's faith in their commander, even though he tended to take leave for extended periods of time he was the best commander Germany had and the men knew it. Time after time he went out of his way to make sure they had the needed equipment to get the job done. He hadn't been taken as a prisoner of war like that guy in the Afrika Korps. McMillan figured those guys probably were still unsure of their commander, no one knew what he did or didn't tell the Allies. The only other unit operating in the same area had been recently disbanded, that had to speak volumes. And if all else failed, McMillan would stand toe to toe with any man, friend or foe, that had a less than glorified word for his commander, after all, Rafael Wolfram was the main reason Edward wore the uniform he did, and wore it with pride.

The vehicle came to a stop shortly after as Ed was still looking down, his eyes darting side to side, he honestly felt bad for his leader, something he had only felt with Colly, sympathy, but there were oceans of difference between the two, Wolfram could more than handle his own and some of the rest anyone near him couldn't handle. He reached over slowly and grabbed the door handle, pulling on it gently until the door popped open, he leaned his forearm into the padded interior and pushed it open, stepping out one foot at a time and standing outside onto the street. He stood, took a deep breath and straightened up his uniform before placing his cap on his head and turning to walk around the rear of the vehicle to take his place next to his Sturmbannführer. Following his lead Edward reached down and slowly pulled his pistol from its resting place, reaching over with his thumb and pulling the hammer back into the cocked position. He cleared his throat and spit the contents off to the side away from Rafael. Looking into the windows he could of the cramped area that seemed to be rotting away before their very eyes, it was disgusting for a living environment, maybe it would be nice to sleep in for a night if you were in the thick of combat, but on a daily basis, no wonder everyone was sick all the time, this was the perfect breeding ground for disease.

McMillan watched as the men piled out of the convoy trucks and jogged over to the first four doors leading into the large apartment type structure, a squad for each door, the squad leaders walking up casually between there men and opening the doors in their own way for the rest of their squad to enter, two just turned the knobs, one was locked, a swift kick knocked it clear of the hinges, another was kicked in as well but remained in tact to the frame, the guy at the end actually knocked and Edward looked toward he and his men with disdain, the man at the rear looking back almost rolling his eyes, Edward put his hand out and swiftly motioned for the Private looking their way to get it done, and with that he stepped out of line and opened the door with a quick twist of the knob, seemed a book case was in the way so a pair of them shouldered up and shoved their way in. You could hear the random scream here and there, windows breaking, lamps getting knocked over, some windows blinked with light and some went out entirely. On the back side of the structure you could here the sparse gunfire as the occupants tried to run but the men that pulled up along the back had been positioned there for just such a case. For the most part the small operation was moving swimmingly...Edward still thought it a waste of resources, soldiers should be tasked with more important objectives, at this point in time there was a war to be fought, he would never voice his opinions and no mater how much he'd rather be on the lines, he'd conduct himself as ordered from Wolfram, no one could hold a candle to the man in Edward's book.

[Nathan Whyte]

Again, the high standard I'd expect from both of you.

JT - 5 posts - 7 CP
Raf- 4 posts - 6 CP