Post by peterkonig on Feb 6, 2009 22:26:51 GMT
Country: Germany, 1943
Current Time: Morning
Weather Conditions: Slight Drizzle, A typical early Spring day
Peter pushed the fried ei around on the small tin plate. A half eaten piece of brot and two wursts lay across from it, bathing in the yolk. It was a fine breakfast, but the SS-Unterscharführer was feeling terrible. A searing pain roared through his head and his stomach churned, the result of the constant cold he had ever since December.
Rolling up his Gray-Green sleeve to check his issue watch. Realizing if he lingered just a few more minutes he would be late, he shoved the remaining wursts into his mouth and rouse from his chair.
His jackboots clopping across the cobblestone streets, Peter strode quickly with his capped head bent twords the ground. Rain drizzled down, dampening his greatcoat and making the ground soggy. Peter prayed it wouldn't turn to ice overnight.
The big building towered over the soggy courtyard that the SS-Unterscharführer walked through. As he approached the doors, the Shutze quickly raised his arm and yelled "Heil Hitler!". Returning the salute, Peter made his way through the door and up to the desk.
"Hallo, Peter König, der SS-Ahnenerbe?" Peter said to the female receptionist. She nodded, and the historian made his way up the stairs to the third floor.
Walking down the dimly light hallway, he found office 107. Pulling the keys out of his coat pocket, fit them into the tiny hole. Pushing open the door, he slipped off his coat and hung it on the small hook.
Approaching the bookcase, he looked for a particular book on Medieval German Kingdoms. He had recently found several pieces of evidence that swastikas had been found engraved on stone turrets that was once owned by the Holy Roman Empire. If he got support from his superiors within the SS-Ahnenerbe, he hoped to investigate himself.
Pulling the book off the shelf, he walked over to the small wooden desk in the corner and sat down. The window in front of the desk was splattered with rain, and Peter could barley make out the cobblestone street below.
Opening the books leather cover, he also pulled a notebook and small golden pen engraved with swastikas. He settled back in the chair and began to read and take notes.
TRANSLATION
ei - egg
brot-bread
wurst-sausage
Current Time: Morning
Weather Conditions: Slight Drizzle, A typical early Spring day
Peter pushed the fried ei around on the small tin plate. A half eaten piece of brot and two wursts lay across from it, bathing in the yolk. It was a fine breakfast, but the SS-Unterscharführer was feeling terrible. A searing pain roared through his head and his stomach churned, the result of the constant cold he had ever since December.
Rolling up his Gray-Green sleeve to check his issue watch. Realizing if he lingered just a few more minutes he would be late, he shoved the remaining wursts into his mouth and rouse from his chair.
---
His jackboots clopping across the cobblestone streets, Peter strode quickly with his capped head bent twords the ground. Rain drizzled down, dampening his greatcoat and making the ground soggy. Peter prayed it wouldn't turn to ice overnight.
The big building towered over the soggy courtyard that the SS-Unterscharführer walked through. As he approached the doors, the Shutze quickly raised his arm and yelled "Heil Hitler!". Returning the salute, Peter made his way through the door and up to the desk.
"Hallo, Peter König, der SS-Ahnenerbe?" Peter said to the female receptionist. She nodded, and the historian made his way up the stairs to the third floor.
Walking down the dimly light hallway, he found office 107. Pulling the keys out of his coat pocket, fit them into the tiny hole. Pushing open the door, he slipped off his coat and hung it on the small hook.
Approaching the bookcase, he looked for a particular book on Medieval German Kingdoms. He had recently found several pieces of evidence that swastikas had been found engraved on stone turrets that was once owned by the Holy Roman Empire. If he got support from his superiors within the SS-Ahnenerbe, he hoped to investigate himself.
Pulling the book off the shelf, he walked over to the small wooden desk in the corner and sat down. The window in front of the desk was splattered with rain, and Peter could barley make out the cobblestone street below.
Opening the books leather cover, he also pulled a notebook and small golden pen engraved with swastikas. He settled back in the chair and began to read and take notes.
TRANSLATION
ei - egg
brot-bread
wurst-sausage
