A Time of Celebration [Open]

[Aldebrando von Württemberg]

Aldebrando was hunched over his desk filling out some paperwork. He had recently been asked to review the Fencing training of the members of the HJ; he had placed 1st back when he himself was a member, which seemed so long ago for him now. He looked up at the grandfather clock he kept in the corner of his spacious office. The time read 16h39m; Aldebrando registered what he saw and leaned back in his chair, which spun slightly as he did so. Aldebrando’s eyes shifted from the Clock to his picture table. He smiled as his eyes came to settle on them, he got up and made his way over to the table. He picked up the picture of his father in his full Party uniform, holding the young Aldebrando upon his shoulders. The picture was taken only a few happy hours before the Putsch, Aldebrando found himself wondering if his father would’ve gone had he known what would come next. He quickly banished that unjust thought from his mind and placed the picture back. He cocked his head to the side and looked at the empty box that usually contained his Blood Order. It’s absence was odd to him, but he assumed that one of his boys was showing it off, or that his secretary had sent it out for cleaning, he would have to ask her about it later. There were many other pictures most of them of Aldebrando in his party uniform, HJ uniform (as both a kid and adult), his SS Uniform, and of him and his mother at various points in his life. There were also several more empty presentation boxes, that Aldebrando had no time to notice as he was woken from his reverie by a frantic knock on his door. He turned to see one of his HJ boys flinging the door open and running in out of breath. Aldebrando rushed to the boy’s side and knelt on one knee.

“Ludwig what is it?” He asked of the boy.

“Come quick there was an accident at The Kaiserhof. The unit was deployed doing volunteer work, when the roof collapsed. Come quickly!” Aldebrando didn’t have to be told twice he grabbed his uniform Jacket and threw it on as he ran, the pair past Aldebrando’s secretary who stood at attention.

“Ingrid call my car around front, there is an emergency.” The woman was well trained, if rather plain to look at, she was already on the phone before Aldebrando was out of the room. The pair ran through the halls of the SS Headquarters. The pair exited out onto the stone stairs that lead up to the building, and Aldebrando was happy to see his Black Mercedes-Benz 770 with its Party & SS mini-flags. His Driver already had the door open and was awaiting Aldebrando who didn’t bother to slow down as he dove into the vehicle right behind Ludwig. The driver closed the door and ran around to the driver’s compartment. As he entered he didn’t even have time to ask their destination when Aldebrando called out.

“The Kaiserhof, and hurry it’s an emergency.” The driver sped off down the road at full speed. Aldebrando was flustered but didn’t ask any questions of his Protégé, simply choosing to save his energy for the scene he was sure to face. The car made it to the Kaiserhof in quick order, and began to pull to a stop in front of the hotel; though before the wheels had time to stop moving, Aldebrando was already outside the car and vaulting the steps two at a time. He came into the lobby of the Hotel and was greeted by the flustered looking manager who ushered him toward the main ballroom, though at a much reduced pace than the one that Aldebrando had adopted on his way in.

“It is horrible, they are all in here.” Aldebrando slowed to stay in step with the Manager, hoping the man would tell him something useful, as they approached the Ballroom, though he wouldn’t be gifted with any further insight. When he reached the doors he stopped and looked back, searching for Ludwig, who was nowhere to be seen. Ludwig had come in though he had made his way through the staff halls so that he could be present in the Ballroom when Aldebrando entered. Aldebrando shook his head and pushed his way through the large double doors into the room and was steeled himself for what he expected, though the scene that greeted him was far less morbid.
*****

The ballroom was filled with various Wermacht, SS, and NASDAP officials who had come to wish Aldebrando well on his promotion. The party was co-planned by Aldebrando’s mother and his HJ unit. The room was decked to the nines in NASDAP Party, SS, and HJ Symbols, though the dominant feature was the Wurttemburg Family Crest flanked by two Swastikas. The grouped turned to the staff entrance to see Ludwig enter, and prepared to greet Aldebrando as he would soon be coming in through the doors. As the doors open the HJ band readied their instruments. As Aldebrando came into view the room erupted in applause as the band began to play the HJ Anthem. Aldebrando who was prepared for death, was floored when the reality of the situation set in. He was all smiles and good humor as the wave of support washed over him. His mother emerged from the crowd carrying a uniform Jacket. She raised her hand, and silence fell over the crowd as she stepped forward, she indicated that her son should kneel, so he did. As his mother addressed the crowd, a handful of his Boys assembled about him and helped him change uniform jackets.

“Ladies and Gentelmen, it is with pride and honour that I introduce to you,” she turned back and saw that the boys were just fastening the buttons of her son’s new Jacket and stalled for time. “my beloved son, his father would be so proud of him today as he takes another step toward his father’s own rank of Generalfeldmarschall.” She paused feeling a boys hand on the small of her back and took a step back sweeping her hand to indicate her son.

“My son SS-Obersturmführer Aldebrando Lucius Herzog von Württemberg.” Aldebrando had a moment to look down at his uniform, which displayed all the appropriate medals, and even his neck jewel of the Order of Germany before he heard his mother announce him. He stood and mused that he now knew where his medals went, and snapped to attention saluting the crowd.

“Heil Hitler!” His form was perfect, as befitted an HJ turned SS. The Crowd Saluted in return and then the band switched to the National Anthem and Aldebrando started everyone else off. Once the formalities were complete Aldebrando stood next to the receiving table to greet his guests.

[Ryan Neale]

Ryan gazed around the reception, swirling the glass of port in his left hand and watching it swish back and forth and break and against the crystal like a turgid gulf on some foreign shore distracted him temporarily from the fact that although he loved pomp and ceremony, he absolutely despised being one of the few if not the only Luftwaffe men at these functions. Unlike the Heer or the SS, politics really didn't extend as much to the junior officers and enlisted of his service so much as they proved a necessary evil.

Ryan loved the Party, the Fatherland, and the Volk, but his party was far from the double digits and he wasn't even a German. Gauleiter was no option for him, not as if he cared, because although he wouldn't exactly hate a staff job, he would despise and loathe the sort of staff job which rendered him perpetually watched for treason by the SD or the Gestapo due to his non-German heritage and perpetually going to parties and slamming schnapps down his throat in between mingling with an obese, barely literate brute who got his position by punching reds in a tavern and being assigned an order based on being the first to join a bunch of pissed off youths. Granted, a lot of them were killed off in the Knight of Long Knives and in Ryan's mind it was good riddance.

The SS, and by proxy the young man being promoted today were openly known as the ones who performed the deed, murdering off the street brawling SA and Ernst Rohm, and replacing them with a clean, sharp, black uniformed machine. It was like burning the clubs and replacing them with rapiers. It was now a beautiful machine, a precise machine which now steamed along in panzer divisions, infantry divisions, or even civilian administration, as opposed to a band of unshaven drunks stalking the streets like anarchists. Ryan liked it, but it would be unlikely that he would pin the Sig runes on.

Ryan thought to himself that the SS might be the best division to be attached to as air support possibly. After all, since they were forming into elite units they would probably see enough action to keep Ryan in the air. In air combat, there were aces and victims, with very little middle ground. Either you survived and got better or you would go down in flames, your bullet hull riddled cockpit giving only glimpses of your bloodied, dying frame through wisps of smoke. Ryan hoped that if he could stay in the sky long enough to learn, he might well survive the war.

Ryan drank down the last of his port, letting it's amber sweetness burn his throat and stomach in the ever so sweet way that fortified wine tended to, closed his eyes sharply and reopened them to the mingling guests. He sighed and realized just how antisocial he was being. "St. John Chrysostom prevent me from looking stupid when I have to talk to these folks." he prayed, fingering the rosary in his jacket pocket. Ryan had just taken up the habit of praying the rosary once a day, and its black onyx beads and silver crucifix had simply grown into a comfort item for him, in addition to a tool of prayer and faith building.

He looked around at the assembled Hitler Youth. Ryan had been a Boy Scout back in America. yeah he shot rifles and boxed, but these boys were training for war without understanding what war and their own mortality even met. He wondered how many would hold in the face of the juggernaut of the impending chaos of the world's battlefields. He also wondered if he would.

[Aldebrando von Württemberg]

Ludwig looked around the room; unsure of whom he should be speaking to. Aldebrando would’ve told him ‘Anyone you feel you want to’, but that was just Aldebrando’s way. Ludwig was much more cautious about his choices, and was not as sure of himself as Aldebrando was. Ludwig was a fine young German boy, of fine genetics. His blond hair, light grey eyes, and freckles all served to endear him to his HJ Leaders over the years. Ludwig caught site of an odd man in the room. There were many Wermacht, SS, HJ, NASDAP, and even a few Kriegsmarine personnel in the room, but there was only one member of the Luftwaffe, and he was standing off by himself. Ludwig made his way toward the man watching him as he sloshed his drink, and then downed it in one swallow. Ludwig found him interesting, there was a strangly foreign to the man, he was defiantly not German, or for that matter from any of the allied states. He approached the man and saluted, as his arm extended it could be seen that there was a rosary wrapped around his wrist, the crucifix secured neatly into the wrap.

“Heil Hitler!” The boy’s German was as impeccable as his features. He had not yelled out the standardized greeting, as so many of his peers would’ve, instead choosing a more intimate level, though what he lost out on volume he made up for with sheer dedication and force behind his words. The rank insignia about his collar marked him as a Scharführer (Section Leader), and he wore an aiguillette that marked him as being assigned as an aide-de-camp to the HJ Leader of his Unit. He also wore a single Sig Rune about his neck, a high honour for one of his age. Though if anyone were to look about the room, they would see that everyone of the HJ in the room were of the same unit and that they all wore a single Sig Rune. His uniform bore the cuff title "Wachgefolgschaf", though so were half the room. The other half all bore the cuff title "Streifendienst".

Ludwig

[Ryan Neale]

"Heil Hiter." Ryan sedately replied, arm half bent. As much as the Leutnant felt the Party had done for Germany, he possessed a sheer loathing for political maneuvering and the attempted politicization of the party by party die-hards. While the SS was a finely tuned elite unit, it still functioned as little more than an armed branch of the party in some instances. The Kriegsmarine was probably the least vulnerable to political infiltration, especially its U-boat corps. The submariners tended to close ranks and shut out political appointees and the Luftwaffe often did the same. Though Goering was certainly a political appointee, he was a fine fighter pilot back in the Great War. 'Was' was the operative word as Goering's rotundity, lavishness, and perceived gluttony, were the laughingstock of foreign nations and behind the closed doors of the Reich people would often snicker at the fat Luftwaffe head.

It wasn't the Luftwaffe, however, that rounded up Jews and Poles as the Wehrmacht surged through their nations. The air war was a distant thing where faceless adversaries attempted to send an aircraft into the ground. It was martially simple and apolitical, allowing for grudging respect and professional detachment from the kill. The reality of the hell below lead to a war of loaded emotion and hatred where it was no longer a war between two abstract nation states, but between German and Pole, Italian and Celt, and the individuals who had come to identify themselves in terms that turned a war of resource and politic into a war of cultural and racial hatred. It was certainly discomfiting, but Ryan felt literally and figuratively above it all.

Ryan looked at the young Hitlerjugend in front of him and gave a slight smile. The racial indoctrination he was certainly undergoing would soon put these differences in sharp contrast, and he hoped that maybe the young man would go into the Luftwaffe or Kriegsmarine where he hoped his peers would serve to temper his political fervor and add a keen edge of detachment that would mold him into a warrior par excellence.

[Gottfried Schmitt]

Greta took a light sip of the deep red she had been served as the festivities began. The wine played on her tongue, and she observed in closemouthed appreciation the proceedings taking place at the center of everyone’s attention. Watching the newly-made SS-Obersturmführer being presented by his proud mother put a smile on her face, and the young woman knew she took some amount of vicarious pleasure from seeing another so adored by a parent. She only wished her own mother were still alive, though Freida would be quite horrified by her only daughter’s current occupation.

Of course, she thought somewhat dispassionately, should her mother be alive, the remainder of the family would still be huddled together on a failing farm in Bavaria, wondering whether they would have anything to eat that day or the next. It was almost funny in a morbid sort of way that while her father’s death had been the family’s undoing, her mother’s had liberated both Greta and Gottfried. She would certainly never be here, sipping wine and watching an important promotion, had the tragic deaths not occurred.

That was not, of course, to say that she was glad her family was gone, but as a farm girl by upbringing, she was well-versed in the practice of looking for what small victories she could in the face of adversity. Anyone who grew up as she had that could not do so was usually buried under said difficulties; they never realized it took a hardy plant to flourish in such hardscrabble conditions. Her brother had been one of these, and she realized that had her mother not died when she had, Gottfried might have been an early victim of the family’s lifestyle rather than a much later victim of pneumonia. One must choose one’s battles, after all, and the winner in the end is really the one who stays alive the longest. She had found that the military had much in common with farming in that regard.

Taking a deep breath, Greta allowed the wine to warm her from the inside out. She was for all her experience with drink still a ‘lightweight’, and she could feel herself loosen up as time went by. Now was a time for celebration, not brooding, and she forcibly turned her thoughts away from their darker train. After all, fine food and fine wine were not often freely given, and when available one should appreciate the gesture without souring a good red with gloomy thoughts. She swirled the glass once, watching it trail down the sides appreciatively, and maintained her reserved smile. How the real Gottfried would have enjoyed such an event!

The wineglass itself was of course immaculate, its crisp lines echoing the young pilot’s own pressed uniform. How a Feldwebel such as herself had managed to rate an invitation to this celebration was a mystery, though with the fine drink available Greta was not disposed to contest it. Any promotion was a cause for happiness in her mind, after all, and she was glad to help the man celebrate his. That was, of course, so long as she was allowed to stay in her unobtrusive corner and be the observer rather than participator. With all the higher ranking men in attendance, the last thing she wanted to do was get in one’s way, invitation or not. To compound matters, there were few if any other Luftwaffe here. She had caught the most fleeting glance of one earlier, but had not seen the man since, and having so few of her fellow pilots in attendance made her feel out of place. No, she would let others converse with one another and congratulate the SS-Obersturmführer. He deserved to be surrounded by friends on this most auspicious occasion, not some unknown Luftwaffe pilot who had only recently learned his name.

[Aldebrando von Württemberg]

Aldebrando stood at the reception table greeting guest after guest, most of them passed by him with little more than a handshake and a nod in acceptance of their congratulations. Though mixed in here and there were people that demanded far more attention from the newly promoted SS-Obersturmführer. Though of all the ones that demanded a fair bit more attention from him was Generaloberst Friedrich Fromm, Commander of the Reserve Army. Aldebrando caught site of the man and smiled warmly, Fromm had served under Aldebrando’s own father during the First World War and had remained a friend of the family ever since. Aldebrando saluted as Fromm approached him, Fromm responded by raising his hand in the lazy salute that high ranking members adopted over the years.

“General Fromm, it is good to see you.” Aldebrando said with a big smile and warmth to his voice.

“Aldebrando, who would’ve thought that the precocious little boy I knew, would grow up to be such a fine young officer. That rank looks good on you; I can only hope that as you grow in prestige you remember the old men that helped you along the way. At this rate you will be the Riechfuhrer-SS when Himmler finally retires.” Fromm said with his own style of speech. Everyone knew that Fromm was a man of little worth to the Reich beyond his current position, but the man always tried to ingratiate himself with the more powerful so that he could gain some modicum of prestige by their support. Family friend or not, Aldebrando understood the reason behind the man’s being here, and he would treat him accordingly.

“God forbid General. I hope that Himmler stays in power for many, many years to come.” He leaned in close and whispered into Fromm’s ear, “Family Friend or not, if I even so much as hear of you speaking about Himmler in that tone again: I shall personally assure the fact that you come to the same end as all traitors. A short fall and a sudden stop.” He then returned to his previous position with a smile on his face.

“Please General enjoy your stay.” Fromm was visibly shaken by the young man’s words. What he had intended as a complement had been returned upon him as Aldebrando had seen through his face, and glimpsed his true hart. Aldebrando then moved to greet the next member in the line. He moved several more guests down the line before he ran into another guest that required his attention. Aldebrando again smiled warmly but this time instead of saluting stepped forward and embraced the man that stood before him.

“Baldur! What brings you here? I would’ve thought you busy with far more pressing matters. I have heard rumours that the Fuhrer is making plans to invade Poland.” Aldebrando spoke making conversation.

“Well I have heard the same rumours Schwert.” Aldebrando, whose name meant ‘rules by the sword’, and had thus, earned the nickname Schwert (German for sword) when he had placed first during a fencing competition in his youth. Baldur von Schirach had been his mentor and trainer before that competition and for several years before and since. The two were fast friends, since there was only 4 years difference in their ages.

“But I can’t say that his invading Poland or not, would affect us in the HJ. That and I wasn’t about to miss this important day in your life. You were the best man at my wedding after all, so I figured I should be here. You remember my wife Henrietta.” Baldur had been busy as of late with some programming options, and Aldebrando had known this, but both were happy to be present today.

“Of course,” Aldebrando stepped forward and kissed the woman on the cheek. “Frauline it is good to see you, how are the children? Angelika, Klaus and, don’t tell me... Robert, the youngest.” Aldebrando asked with a smile.

“They are fine Heer, and it is kind of you to ask.” The young woman responded with a slight blush to her cheeks. “I am only sorry that they couldn’t be here today, but are still too young.”

“I understand, well Baldur I will have to introduce you to my Protégé a little later in the evening. In the mean time I unfortunately have more guests to greet.” Aldebrado said as he looked beyond his friend at the line of people.

“I look forward to it. Heil Hitler!” The two saluted then in perfect form and Baldur left Aldebrando to his work.

Aldebrando again was greeted with a familiar face when a Priest stood before him. Aldebrando stepped forward and kissed the man’s hand, out of habit and political common sense: Though inwardly the action caused him no end of revulsion. As a faithful and trained SS his family’s fear-based loyalty to the bloated and now obsolete Catholic Church.

“Father Gröber, it is good to see you again. I hope that you will enjoy the party.” The words burned his tongue and caused the bile to jump in his throat. This man’s mere present seemed to cause him revulsion. He smiled and nodded his way through the encounter and once it was done excused himself from the table as he looked and saw no more people of any interest to him. He made his way to the bar and quickly ordered something to calm his stomach.

“Double schnapps please.” The bartender simply nodded and poured the drink. Aldebrando shot it back and then turned back toward the crowd. He looked over the crowd for a few moments and then caught sight of his protégé who was speaking to the only Luftwaffe member in the room. No that wasn’t entirely true he thought to himself, he had caught a glimpse of another Luftwaffe uniform in the room, but he couldn’t quite place where. He smiled and thought ‘leave it to that boy, to always choose the odd man out and engage him.’ Aldebrando decided then that he should save the man from the bombardment of questions from that he knew the boy was preparing to ask. He made his way toward the man and smiled warmly.

“Forgive me, Leutnant, is Ludwig bothering you? I am Lucius von Württemberg. Tell me how one of the illustrious Luftwaffe finds himself here amid us who have never defied gravity and danced amid the angels?” Aldebrando had a congenial tone about his words; his hands came to rest upon Ludwig’s shoulders as he stood behind the boy addressing the Leutnant.

[Franz Albrecht]

Sturmscharfuhrer Albrecht glanced at his watch as the Grey Horch KFZ.15 sped through the streets of Berlin. The destination was the Kaiserhof located across the street from the chancellery, Hitler’s headquarters in Berlin.

"We are late Scharfuhrer, quickly now"

The driver gave a slight nod to show he understood, the car jerked as he shifted gears while turning the corner entering the Wilhelmplatz district. Frankie had been to the hotel once before but on security detail. This hotel was famous for being the fuehrer’s favorites, Goering had been married here, and the hotel also served as a venue for the Olympic Committee along with other sport officials in 1936. The Horch screeched to a halt at the buildings main entrance, Albrecht hopped out with the driver wearing erdgrau Uniforms. The black Allgemeine uniform was proving impractical for daily service wear these days, therefore the grey uniform had been authorized for full time Allgemeine
Members.

This new addition had been based on the black uniform, with minor differences in design. Frankie pulled on the bottom of his tunic, causing the gabardine wool to smooth. He then glanced at his recently shined jackboots, he put a lot of time into making them flawless in appearance. Next he noticed a tiny bit of lint attached to his left arm, it rested on his SD diamond patch. He picked it off and flicked it into the breeze, looking at the Scharfuhrer standing next to him he nodded,

“Looking smart Krishan, lets get in there”

The two Sicherheitsdienst men entered the Kaiserhof in step with one another. The lobby was well lit, the décor identified the hotel as a Nazi party venue. Many flags were hung about the room, statues of the fuehrer were present, along with exquisite collection of Nazi art works. Albrecht heard the sound of music coming from the ball room, suddenly voices called out, “Heil Hitler!”. Frankie and Krishan made their way to the sound of the HJ anthem.

Upon entering the room Albrecht put a pleasant, greeting smile on his face. The room was decked in party banners and flags. The dominant banner was that of Württemberg, once a duchy within the Roman empire. During the reign of Frederick I of Württemberg. it became a republic called the Free People's State of Württemberg. Frankie had visited a few times and happened to be a fan of the fine wine they produced there. It was excellent quality, unmatched.

“Krishan, fetch us some wine…”

The Scharfuhrer clicked his heels and immediately went to find the wine. Albrecht noticed the officer who had just been promoted standing with good form in the reception area, greeting the guests upon entrance. The Hitler Jugend had a strong presence at the Kaiserhof today, their motto.. Blut und Ehre… stood out strongly, written on a banner that was attached to the wall. Frankie recognized the Hj as a necessary program to steer the youth of Germany in the right direction, which was to follow their Fuhrer with unquestionable loyalty. As Von Württemberg greeted more guests with a smile, Frankie arranged his greeting within his head. Sturmscharfuhrer Albrecht did not know Obersturmführer Aldebrando Lucius von Württemberg on a personal level. Frankie had been asked to attend at the last possible moment to display a Sicherheitsdienst presence at the party. Not to intimidate anyone but simply show their support and willingness to co operate with the SS.

The SD were always making themselves visible to the party, everyone was aware they worked hand in hand with the Geheime Staatspolizei, or the Gestapo as it was commonly known. Their presence was noted by all, at times it made one cautious of his words. Today of course was not about official business, basically Frankie would enjoy himself in the company of loyal Germans, pretty women and good drink.

[Aldebrando von Württemberg]

Florian had been circling the room, taking mental note of all the people in the room. Despite his age of 15 years, he had already gotten used to watching everyone with suspicion. The maltreatment at the hands of his supposed school chums had helped him along that path nicely. Despite it being late 1939 and the Wermacht hadn’t yet expanded beyond what most in the World would at least grudgingly accept as being German Land, he still had to watch for decentres and those whose actions betray them. Aldebrando arrived in the room and he smiled, but unlike the rest of the crowd he continued his rounds, he noted a few abnormalities in the room as the man clapped, one of which was the Luftwaffe officer who stood in a corner by himself trying to avoid attention. This marked him as odd and he began to move toward him to get a better understanding as to why he was hiding, when one of the doors to the room opened, the young Florian strained to see over the gathered crowd of gathered adults who were singing the anthems of the party. Disgusted at his personal disadvantage in height he made his way around the crowd and toward his door, his prey temporarily saved from his investigation. He came around the edge of the crowd and saw a member of the SD standing behind Aldebrando, who was happily engaged in the singing. Again Florian’s investigation was cut short as the SD man fell into line at the receiving table, so he bade his time and chatted with subordinates amid his unit. Aldebrando discreetly but abruptly ended the receiving line after a discussion with a member of the catholic church and noticed Florian, he made his way up to the boy while heading to the bar.

“Florian there was a Sturmscharführer from the SD in the line, make sure he is greeted and I get to speak to him. It would not do to upset the SD.” Florian walked to keep up with the man who seemed determined to get to the bar. Once the man finished his instructions Florian turned on his heels and made his way to the man. As he approached the made note of the man’s rank of SS-Sturmscharführer and adjusted his own immaculate uniform, which looked as if it had been cleaned only minutes before the start of the party. The boy’s shoulder boards identified his unit as HJ-Gabiet #3, HJ-Bann “A”, and HJ-Unterbann II, as well as being an HJ-Scharführer despite his young age. Upon his left cuff he wore a band that identified the II Unterbann as being a HJ-Streifendienst, or the HJ equivalent of the Gestapo or SD. On his the collar of his uniform he wore a paired set of single Sigrunes to denote the elite status of his unit. The last thing rounding out his uniform were a handful of HJ awards, including the proficiency badge, and an aiguillette that marked him as being an aide to the man being honoured today. He stepped up to the SS-Sturmscharführer and saluted, his voice strong and determined despite his intimate tone as he said,

“Heil Hitler! Herr Sturmscharführer, I am HJ-Scharführer Florian Globocnik, yes I am the issue of the Gaulieter of Vienna, as well as being the head of our HJ-Streifendienst unit. The Herzog wished for me to extend to you the warmest of welcomes and should you need anything just to ask.” His voice as an octave high for his age and bore a slight lisp, it seemed that perhaps he had not fully entered into the swings of puberty yet, though he most likely had an amazing soprano singing voice. But perhaps he had as his muscle development was a fitting level for his approximate age. He also chose to speak with fluid hand movements, not unlike many who come from Vienna or France.

Florian Globocnik

[Franz Albrecht]

As Albrecht waited his eyes scanned the room taking a note of the guests present at the event. He then noticed that Obersturmführer Aldebrando Lucius von Württemberg had cut the line off and had made his way to the bar. Frankie was slightly confused to why he had taken his leave? Had he not noticed his presence?. Maybe he simply did not wish to speak with the Sturmscharfuhrer?.

Suddenly Albrecht’s thoughts were interrupted by the voice of a young man. The tall Austrian turned his head and cast his gaze to a lower level where he instantly noticed a boy wearing a highly decorated HJ uniform standing there before him. Albrecht noted the Nazi salute, quickly he returned it as the boy spoke,

"Heil Hitler" The Sturmscharfuhrer replied, "Heil Hitler, Scharführer" He gave a slight nod towards the young man, he looked directly at his collar tabs with a grin. Albrecht believed the Hitler Youth was an excellent program, a very respectable organization beneficial to the sculpting of today’s youth. There had to be order, even with regards to children of the Reich. It gave them a since of achievement, something to work towards. It taught them honour, courage and loyalty in the process.

This boy had done well for himself to date. He was on the path to becoming an outstanding servant of the Reich. The HJ-Streifendienst unit was to report suspicious and anti-Nationalist Socialist behaviour to their supervisors in the Geheime staatspolizei (Gestapo), the Schutzstaffel, or the Sicherheitsdienst (SD, Security Service). The members were hand selected and they were more of an elite class of the HJ.

Frankie listened attentively allowing the HJ leader speak. When the young Globocnik had finished, Albrecht dismissed his thoughts of suspicion and curiosity, everything was in order here. The boys voice had been sincere. Nothing but honesty would come from an HJ member of this calibre. They with held nothing from their superiors.

Albrecht adjusted his cap that he had tucked beneath his left arm, It was grey doeskin wool with a black velvet band . A silver braid ran across the upper section of the visor, the insignia in the center was that of Deaths head, located directly above it was an eagle gripping the Swastika in it's talons. Frankie held the cap outwards for the boy to accept it,

"Danke, Scharführer,"

Albrecht continued with a smile, "Im afraid I didn't notice a place I could put that, if you could I would be grateful. Ah, and Scharführer, Inform the The Herzog the Reichssicherheitshauptamt sends him their best wishes, I offer my own personally. When he is non commited, i would shall like to speak with him. No rush"

[Aldebrando von Württemberg]

Florian took the hat in his hands as if it were almost a sacred relic, and to an HJ that may well be what it at breast level.
“It would be an Honour Sturmscharführer. I shall make sure that he is aware of your want to speak with him. In the mean time, please feel free to speak with any of the guests you would like to. Riechjungendführer von Schirach & General Fromm from the Reserve Army are two men of note that I have seen are present. There are several other people around as well I am certain. And again should you require anything, just flag down one of my men, and we will endeavour to server you.” He then bowed his head and headed off to find a place for his newest prize. He made his way into the coat room, ignoring the protestations of the Hotel Staff member who was assigned to it: Then placed the hat on a shelf, which was away from everyone else and turned to the sputtering man.
“If anyone touches this hat other then its owner or me, I want to hear about it immediately, do you understand?” The man just nodded and with that Florian made his way out of the room, and back to the ballroom. Despite his personal unease at leaving the party, he knew that his staff was more than capable of keeping things secure, none the less he hurried back to his post. After a few minutes he made his way up to Aldebrando who was just finishing up his conversation with a Luftwaffe man.

“Well it was good speaking with you Herr; I hope to do so again someday. Please enjoy the party.” Aldebrando then made his way back through the crowd Ludwig in tow. Florian made his way up to Aldebrando and spoke.

“Herzog, the man from the SD would like to speak to you, at your convenience. “ Florian explained. Aldebrando turned to the boy and smiled,

“Well there is no time like the present. Please show me the way.” Florian led both Aldebrando & Ludwig through the throng of people, as he knew exactly where the SD man was in relation to them.

“SS-Sturmscharführer Albrecht, this is SS-Obersturmführer von Wurttemberg and his protégé HJ-Scharführer Ludwig Schröder” Florian announced, using his flowing hand to indicate the two that accompanied him.