Loading The POWs [#1 / Felix / Luther]

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

Country: Germany
Area/Setting: Partly countryside, with a small town.

Current Time: 0800hrs
Weather Conditions: Overcast & lightly raining (Drizzle)
Click here to read what the first letter of orders were, regarding the transportation of the prisoners.

Numberg; The departure point had been set for the five hundred Russian prisoners to be transported to Poniatowa within Poland. Dresden had been comprised with security risks and the departure point was quite quickly changed. Folding the second letter in half, that he had received from SS-Standartenführer Klause, Sturmbannführer Wolfram neatly tucked it into the inside pocket to his leather jacket; That was quite neatly laid over his dark SS-Tunic beneath. The morning was extremely cold and windy, so the leather duster jacket kept him quite comfortably warm.

The Kubelwagen veered up towards the station, where a picket of two guard posts had been set up to monitor incoming and outgoing traffic from the station. It seemed as if the station was under a firm guard, then again, with the transportation of five hundred prisoners; All of them renown Russian soldiers, the Sturmbannführer wasn’t quite surprised to see such a firm jurisdiction of SS-Presence within the vicinity. The driver to the Kubelwagen pulled alongside the small guard booth and quickly rolled down his window, leaning out to talk to the soldier on duty - a few words were exchanged, but the Sturmbannführer couldn’t care less for their petty conversation, as he stared out of the window, seemingly caught within a daze. Before he knew it, the driver was franticly rolling up his window again, attempting to stop a cold draft from entering the vehicle, before he pushed onwards to deliver the Sturmbannführer outside of the station.

As the Kubelwagen smoothed into a groove along road, directly outside of the station’s entrance, Sturmbannführer Wolfram let out a small sigh and ignorantly opened the passenger door to the vehicle, not bothering to thank or say a word to the driver in the process. Stepping out onto the concrete sidewalk, the Sturmbannführer tightly pulled the front of his leather jacket together to preserve the warmth, before closing the vehicle’s door and trotting over towards the station’s wide opening of several consecutive doors.

Nodding to one of the guards, the Sturmbannführer hastily entered the large station, where it had been courted off from any civilian presence, other than the station’s staff and platform supervisors. A brief grin phased across the Sturmbannführer’s lips, as all around himself, lingered members of the Waffen-SS Das-Reich; The entire grand station had been taken under SS-Control, until they obviously left the station’s premises with their batch of Russian scum. Although, the prisoners were no where in sight within the grand lobby, a few wandering soldiers and ticket-clerks were all that caught his eye, as most of the presence within the area stiffened up and dauntingly looked into his general direction. Quite obviously noticing the well nipped and tucked uniform of an senior officer enter the station.

Hardly making any time in acknowledging the looks he was receiving, Sturmbannführer Wolfram paced along the tiled flooring swiftly, the clapping of his jackboots causing enough patrons within the station to shudder at the merciless noise of trouble heading their way. Navigating his way through the ticket hall and through a wide corridor that lead out towards the platform; The Sturmbannführer grimaced ever so vaguely to himself, as he noticed the prisoners huddled into segments upon the platform. Most of them were sitting in groups, under heavy guard. None of the prisoners however, were bound by shackles or any means of material; lifelessly, they just sat huddled against one another’s backs, staring into space, awaiting their departure from the station…

Licking his lips, Sturmbannführer Wolfram walked along the platform quickly, his eyes darting between every finely dressed soldier he crossed, looking for his senior non-commissioned officer amongst the soldiers. Luther was no where to be seen, perhaps he was dealing with problems of his own? Either way, Sturmbannführer Wolfram continued on along the platform and attempted to ignore any deathly looking stares from the prisoners littering the platform - surprisingly, as the Sturmbannführer began to see the end of the platform up ahead, he noticed the prisoners were lined up, even off the platform, due there being so many of them. Again, they were grouped huddles, under at least several guard’s keen eyes, with numerous more wandering along the platform, making sure the situation was organised.

Slowly coming to a stop, towards the end of the platform, that would be the ‘front’ of the platform and where the officers and senior non-commissioned officers would embark upon the carriage designated to them. Sturmbannführer Wolfram took a brief moment to look around himself, listening to all the voices bark out towards the prisoners, glumly littering the once beautiful place, within their tattered garments and dirty faces. A few of them had the devious look on their faces, whether they should attempt to run or sneak off if possible. It wasn’t like they were tied up, not until they were on the train, so most of the prisoners under heavy duty guard had a cheeky look about themselves… Just wondering…. Should they chance their luck?

[William Luther]

OOC: This post feels a bit awkward, but oh well.

Russian’s littered the floor, like rubbish, not wanted by any, and Luther had a distinct look of distaste on his face as he weaved between them, polished boots making menacing clicks on the ground with each steady pace. His army parka was tight on his chest, the mouse grey material holding in the warmth as he paced the frigid train station. His StG44 was held tightly against and had the added support of the leather strap. Needless to say, it was cocked and the safety catch off and both hands gripped it through thin leather gloves, not large enough to block out the cold, just enough to stop his hands becoming sluggish, the kind of thing that would kill him.

He moved between groups, holding brief conversations with the guards, along the lines of “We’ll boards the train shortly, we just need to wait for Herr Wolfram”or, “Any problems? I’ll have somebody replace you shortly.” The soldiers were the best of the SS, and therefore, the best of the best. Machine pistols were held by the men, on edge, ready to fire at the slightest movement. There had been a small display earlier, a group of Russians had though they might have been able to get away with a small coup. Luther had seen to it they were executed in front of their comrades, before the blood was mopped up by more Russians. It had got the message across, and there hadn’t so much had been a dirty word since.

Shouting grabbed Luther’s attention, and he walked over, indicating for another pair of roving guards to follow with a simple hand gesture. They fell in behind him as Luther approached a group of prisoners. The guard had a look of exasperation as one prisoner shouted loudly in German. An educated Communist, now there was a first. “Ich bin ein Offizier! Ich fordere lieber als das, es sollte richtige Annehmlichkeiten für mich und meinen Gefährten Offizers geben.”

Luther stood over the Officer, a thoughtful look on his face as he looked down. The Officer took this as some sort of help, and tried coming to his feet. Luther smashed outwards with the butt of his rifle, breaking the nose of the Soviet, a spray of blood filling the air. A look of disbelief came upon the face of the soldier who began babbling in his native language. Luther let the man fall before indicating one to one of the guards to come closer. “Nehmen Sie ihn auf diesem Balkon auf, und haben Sie ihn Schuss. Mehrere Zeit. Verstanden?”

With the briefest of confirmations, the Soviet was taken by the arm and dragged up a staircase, yelling out with pain as his foot dragged on each step. Another soldier came behind him, trying to get his attention. Before the person could speak, Luther just yelled out, snapping at the poor Soldat. “Schießen Sie gerade den Bastard bereits!”
The young soldier paled slightly, before sheepishly saying, “Um, Herr, ist Sturmbannführer Wolfram gerade angekommen.”

Luther swore, and bit his cheek, smiling slightly at the idea of ordering the soldier to shoot the Second-SS Division’s commander. That wouldn’t be good towards a promotion. “Wo ist er dann?” asked Luther, before noticing the hand pointed towards the main entrance to the platforms, and the menacing from of Rafael Wolfram stood in his large leather coat. Luther instantly felt inferior as he began marching over. He pulled a salute

Translation[/u]

Ich bin ein Offizier! Ich fordere lieber als das, es sollte richtige Annehmlichkeiten für mich und meinen Gefährten Offiziers geben. - I am an Officer! I demand better than this, there should be proper amenities for me and my fellow Officers.

“Nehmen Sie ihn auf diesem Balkon auf, und haben Sie ihn Schuss. Mehrere Zeit. Verstanden?” - Take him up on that balcony, and have him shot. Several time. Understood?

Schießen Sie gerade den Bastard bereits! - Schießen Sie gerade den Bastard bereits!

Um, Herr, ist Sturmbannführer Wolfram gerade angekommen. - Um, sir, Sturmbannführer Wolfram has just arrived.

Wo ist er dann? – Where his he, then?

[∬: Felix Odegaard]

"Slawisch scum! Sie sind glücklich, am Leben sein!" Felix shouted, kicking the Russian with the sole of his jackboot, the hobnails digging into his face painfully. Blabbering in Russian, Felix left the prisoner to be dealt with by the two privates that were looking over them. Such rubbish shouldn't be left alive to pollute the German Reich, Felix thought to himself, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

Felix wore his long wool greatcoat, it hung loosely over his shoulder and bunched at his belt. They had already issued all of the greatcoats his size, so he had to deal with the next size up. At least he had a coat. His hands were covered with woolen issue gloves, and they kept his hands quite snug. A small strand of blond hair hung down from the front of his scratched and pitted steel helmet, blowing slightly around. A steady rain drummed on the thin overhanging roof on the station, ringing out with a soothing sound. Felix preferred rain over shine, it seemed more appropriate for such an occasion.

Felix was to report to SS-Sturmbannführer Wolfram to find what train car he was to guard and any additional orders. Felix was nervous about meeting someone of such a high stature as Wolfram, the commander of the Das Reich! division.

Biting his lip, Felix walked over to a SS-Scharführer chatting with a train employee in a navy blue uniform. "Entschuldigen Sie bitte, wissen Sie, wenn Sturmbannführer Wolfram ist da noch?" Felix asked the Scharführer. "Ja, er hat Recht gibt." Looking in the direction the sergeant pointed, Felix saw an imposing figure in a leather coat and bleach blond hair. A NCO stood in front of him, saluting. Felix himself hurried over, clicked his heels, and raised his right arm stiffly.

TRANSLATIONS

Slavic scum! You are lucky to be alive!

Excuse me, do you know if Sturmbannführer Wolfram has arrived yet?

Yes, he is right over there.

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

The Sturmbannführer cautiously kept one of his eyes on the lingering presence of the Russian prisoners, a small chat whispering between two of the grotty prisoners huddled close together caught his attention from afar, as the daunting whites to their skinny malnutrition faces gawped long stares towards him; Quite obviously speaking about him and the Sturmbannführer could only guess it was bad news. All it took was one successful skinny body to make it several foot into his direction with a sharp instrument, home-made from the makeshift prisons they were previously kept at, to abruptly end his rein of supremacy in the Waffen-SS. The thoughts made Sturmbannführer Wolfram cringe inside, but he secretly welcomed the challenged of a strangler prisoner to venture his way; He hadn’t used his pistol in months.

Watching as the soldiers slowly moved about the platforms, the Sturmbannführer noticed a fine dressed figure marching into his general direction and immediately turned his face to glare at the approaching figure, seeming a little defensive of how close someone got for a moment. The apparent distinguished Sturmscharführer straightened up and saluted, but didn’t say a word. “Sturmscharführer Luther nehme ich mich heraus? Ich erkenne Sie kaum” Sturmbannführer Wolfram said with a slight shock, knowing the last time he had met the man, was many months ago when they trailed a lead into the ghetto over the murder of Wolfrick, his son and a few dozen people who were murdered in the streets of Munich that eventful evening.

(This was an old thread Felix, so you don’t get confused reading that)

Briefly smiling at the slowly becoming familiar face, Sturmbannführer Wolfram continued to speak. “Hat es irgendwelche Schwierigkeiten Sturmscharführer gegeben?” he questioned inquisitively, wondering if Sturmscharführer Luther would tell him if there was any reports of trouble or not. Whilst the Sturmbannführer waited for a response, another figure approached boldly and saluted, a young Rottenführer who seemed to await being spoken too; Sturmbannführer Wolfram pulled a questionable look, standing there for a few seconds, waiting to see if the young man spoke, but obviously didn’t. “Was ist es Rottenführer? Sollten Sie Ihren Posten verlassen?” the Sturmbannführer questioned intently, staring at the young man before glancing to Sturmscharführer Luther.

“Erziehen Sie inbound, zehn Minuten!” a voice called out from the platform, an elderly gentleman dressed in blue, his white gloves pocketing his antic watch. Sighing, Sturmbannführer Wolfram looked at the two men before him and quickly spoke, knowing there was little time to stand around speaking when a job had to be done. “Lassen Sie uns diesen Chat für später Sturmscharführer Luther sparen, beginnen, die Gefangenen zusammenzutreiben, die bereit sind, den Zug zu täfeln. Rottenführer, Sie bleiben bei mir” Sturmbannführer ordered to each man, wanting the Rottenführer to stay with him, as he felt a little uncomfortable standing alone on the platform. The manpower was stretched thin to cover the journey of the five hundred prisoners, possibly less from the awkward feeling he got from the Sturmscharführer and Sturmbannführer Wolfram didn’t exactly have the pleasure of having a detail of bodyguards or associates following him around for this trip to Poland.

So the Rottenführer’s company was well needed, particularly with some of the gaunt looks he was receiving from the prisoners. “Rottenführer, Aufenthalt nahe” the Sturmbannführer ordered, as he cautiously undone the holster to his P38, not wanting to take any chances of a prisoner or two that may attempt to run at him when they’re gathered from off their feet to board the train…

OOC: Nathan you can mod the train coming into station if you like, if not, just gather the prisoners off their feet and stuff. You’ve been put in charge of getting them ready and Felix, you’re my personal bodyguard for now. =P Lol.


Translations:[/b]

Sturmscharführer Luther nehme ich mich heraus? Ich erkenne Sie kaum.
~ Sturmscharführer Luther I presume? I hardly recognise you.

Hat es irgendwelche Schwierigkeiten Sturmscharführer gegeben?
~ Has there been any trouble Sturmscharführer?

Was ist es Rottenführer? Sollten Sie Ihren Posten verlassen?
~ What is it Rottenführer? Should you be leaving your post?

Erziehen Sie inbound, zehn Minuten!
~ Train inbound, ten minutes!

Lassen Sie uns diesen Chat für später Sturmscharführer Luther sparen, beginnen, die Gefangenen zusammenzutreiben, die bereit sind, den Zug zu täfeln. Rottenführer, Sie bleiben bei mir.
~ Let us save this chat for later Sturmscharführer Luther, begin rounding up the prisoners ready to board the train. Rottenführer, you stay with me.

Rottenführer, Aufenthalt nahe.
~ Rottenführer, stay close.

[William Luther]

OOC: By the way, Luther isn’t that fond of Communists.

Luther lowered his arm as Wolfram addressed him, replying curtly as was fir for the officer. “Ja Herr, Sturmscharführer Luther.” He considered adding a small statement of friendliness, perhaps a “I trust you are well?” but realised that that sort of thing could wait until later. They could not display signs of weakness in front of the Reds gathered around, if they thought they were weak then they may find a reason to revolt. He was not all that surprised that he was not recognised, he had done a lot of training since the last time they had met, and allowed his hair to grow a little bit longer. It appeared to be receding at an alarming rate, and letting his blonde hair move forward a bit seemed to cover it up. Luther wanted to be the image of death, and death didn’t have a pigeon’s arse on its head. He was guessing, but he couldn’t see it.

As the CO asked if there had been trouble, he heard shouts from the balcony above, counting down. Luther quickly spoke, wanting to get maximum effect from this. “Wir haben einige ... Ereignisse gehabt. Der letzte Anstifter hat vor geschossen zu werden, aber ich glaube, dass das ein lohnendes Opfer ist, wenn es mehr Argumente von den Gefangenen aufhören wird.” As if in cue, the countdown finished and three shots rang out as one. With a small cry of pain, a body fell from the metal balcony and landed on the concrete with a rather sickening thud. With a few shouts, some more prisoners were forced to their feet and made to pick up the body. As a small touch which Luther particularly liked, one of them was made to take his jacket off and use it to mop up the mess. If he was an officer, he would have given a promotion out on the spot to the German in charge of them.

Wolfram spoke again as the arrival of the train was announced. Luther spoke for a third time, “Abgestimmter Herr. Ich werde diese Kommunistischen Dummköpfe zu ihren Wagen hineinbringen und Sie dann an der Front des Zugs treffen.” It was almost an order, Luther had a satisfaction in talking like that to superiors, being the highest ranked NCO most jobs he took part in, he generally knew more about what was going on that anybody else. Clicking his heels and saluting again quickly, he committed an about turn.

He signalled towards another soldier, one who he knew spoke Russian and had him follow Luther. “Wiederholen Sie alles, dass ich, OK, Strieker sage?” With a brief nod, from him, Luther began talking, pausing at the end of every sentence for the translation to fit it. “Hören Sie OK, Ihre Kommunistischen Bastarde!” Barely a second later, Strieker bellowed out the Russian translation.

“Der Zug kommt in zehn Minuten an. Sie sind alle, um aufzustehen, sich durch die Gruppe zu gruppieren, die am Südende der Station anfängt, und sich vorzubereiten, den Zug zu täfeln. Misserfolg zusammenzuarbeiten wird auf Sie hinauslaufen geschossen werden. Jedes Verwirren ringsherum, und werden Sie geschossen. Ihre Leben sind in unseren Händen, und wir würden Sie alle gerade als jetzt glücklich töten.” He stopped for a second, thinking of what to say, before carrying on. “Und Show eine Selbstachtung und Marsch. Selbst wenn Sie Idioten sind, sind Sie nicht eine Menge.”

With a large blast of steam and a thunderous noise, the train entered the station, slipping below the green glass cover above the tracks, and coming to a halt. Large passenger carriages were on the back, and Luther knew they had been modified, wooden benches with chains around the ankles. Thankfully, the German carriages were a bit more luxurious, and he couldn’t but help wonder who he’d be stuck with.

By now, he had reached the south end of the station, and aimed towards the first group. Their commander made them stand and slowly walk on to the train. He heard a bit of clamour inside, but they were just complaining about the seats, and, as Strieker explained how “they’d have sore arses.” Luther couldn’t help but laugh as he moved towards the next group.

Translations [/u]

Ja Herr, Sturmscharführer Luther. - Yes sir, Sturmscharführer Luther.

Wir haben einige ... Ereignisse gehabt. Der letzte Anstifter hat vor geschossen zu werden, aber ich glaube, dass das ein lohnendes Opfer ist, wenn es mehr Argumente von den Gefangenen aufhören wird. - We've had some... incidents. The latest instigator is about to be shot, but I believe this is a worthwhile sacrifice if it will stop more arguments from the prisoners.

Abgestimmter Herr. Ich werde diese Kommunistischen Dummköpfe zu ihren Wagen hineinbringen und Sie dann an der Front des Zugs treffen. - Agreed sir. I'll get these Communist fools in to their carriages and then meet you up at the front of the train.

Wiederholen Sie alles, dass ich, OK, Strieker sage? - Repeat everything I say, OK, Strieker?

Hören Sie OK, Ihre Kommunistischen Bastarde! - OK, listen up your Communist bastards!

Der Zug kommt in zehn Minuten an. Sie sind alle, um aufzustehen, sich durch die Gruppe zu gruppieren, die am Südende der Station anfängt, und sich vorzubereiten, den Zug zu täfeln. Misserfolg zusammenzuarbeiten wird auf Sie hinauslaufen geschossen werden. Jedes Verwirren ringsherum, und werden Sie geschossen. Ihre Leben sind in unseren Händen, und wir würden Sie alle gerade als jetzt glücklich töten. - The train is arriving in ten minutes. You are all to stand up, group by group starting at the south end of the station and prepare to board the train. Failure to co-operate will result in you being shot. Any messing around, and you will be shot. Your lives are in our hands, and we would just as happily kill you all now.

Und Show eine Selbstachtung und Marsch. Selbst wenn Sie Idioten sind, sind Sie nicht eine Menge. - And show some self-respect and march. Even if you are idiots, you are not a rabble.

[∬: Felix Odegaard]

Felix kept his stiff position as Sturmbannführer Wolfram approached, addressing the other SS man who was also saluting. The NCO dropped his position and conversed with the Sturmbannführer briefly, before the officer turned to face the Norwegian. "Was ist es Rottenführer? Sollten Sie Ihren Posten verlassen?" The officer questioned Felix.

Felix had just opened his mouth to plead his case to the officer as an elderly man in a blue uniform shouted “Erziehen Sie inbound, zehn Minuten!” over the chatter of the people and prisoners on the platform. "Lassen Sie uns diesen Chat für später Sturmscharführer Luther sparen, beginnen, die Gefangenen zusammenzutreiben, die bereit sind, den Zug zu täfeln. Rottenführer, Sie bleiben bei mir." The officer spoke and the NCO went off to load the prisoners on the train. The Sturmbannführer began to walk and Felix trotted up next to him, slinging his rifle from where it hung on his shoulder.

The officer walked briskly and Felix had to move his feet rapidly to keep up with the German. As they walked, Felix looked at the hollow, gaunt bodies of the Russian prisoners grouped around the station. They looked up at Felix and the officer with an emotion in his eyes that Felix could not put a finger on. It looked with hate at one moment, fear the next, and then they just looked empty, staring at Felix emptily. It made the corporal uneasy, and the palms of his hands were sweaty around the wood of his rifle. But Felix reminded himself that he was the Superior, that they were unarmed, subhuman trash of the world that they would never threaten the SS. Or at least he hoped.

Felix turned his helmeted head, licking his lips as he thought of what to say. A disrespectful word could mean bad things, and Felix meant no disrespect. Deciding on several words, Felix spoke in his Nordic accented voice "Herr Wolfram, darf ich fragen, wohin wir gehen?"


TRANSLATIONS


"Herr Wolfram, darf ich fragen, wohin wir gehen?"
Sir Wolfram, may I ask where we are heading?

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post:

The following CP has been issued:

Wolfram - 5

Luther - 4

Felix - you dead

-JT