Schnapps Doesn't Kill [OPEN]

[Heinrich Landa]

Location: A soldier bar in Munich
Weather: Fairly decent, temperatures dropping dramatically as the sun sets, snow expected late into the night.

The night was still young, as the moon slowly crested over the horizon and the night sky settled down upon the Fatherland. The first twinkling of stars shown to the west, as the north star slowly grew in proportion to it’s full state up in the night sky. The moon’s rays beamed down onto the German city, letting truth be known that it shall shed light and prosecute any whom wish to use night as a cover up. To the east, clouds slowly turned, wanting to unleash their hell upon the earth, but the winds would not let them do so upon the Germans quite yet as it would take hours to even reach the city of Munich.

The streets stayed silent for the most part, other than now the clicking of a jackboot hitting against the cement ground was faintly heard and slowly becoming louder. A Rottenfuhrer made his way down the street, his eyes not set upon one thing as they wandered quite near and far to everything. It would be his first time in this city as mostly he was stuck inside Berlin or out into another country. It was good to be on German soil again, the fresh air of his homeland filled his lungs as a small sigh let loose from his lips. Digging into his jacket pocket, the man pulled out his hard case, opening it up and snatching a German cigarette from it’s hold. His one hand closed it and shoved it back into his pocket, digging for a lighter now as his other hand put the cigarette between his lips.

The flame flickered gently as Landa drew some air into the cigarette, trying to ignite the cancerous stick that would probably get the best of him in his older years. The cig caught, taking a few puffs out of it then snapping the lid back onto the light, he put that back into his pocket as well. The cold mixed in with the puffs of smoke, making it disappear all the slower from around Landa. This night to him would be one in the same, pick a bar, pick a drink and find someone to talk to hopefully. If not, the drink would be his talking mate and would go back to the bunker house and sleep until duty called in the morning. It wouldn’t be normal of Landa not to have a drink on his night off, as thoughts of his father’s death still lingered in this soul and would forever remain there until the day came for closure, which wasn’t now nor while the war played on.

Music started humming through the deserted streets, his ears picking up the tone and now knowing where the bar was. It wouldn’t take long for Landa to walk there, his hand reaching out for the door and grasping it with his warm hand, it almost stuck to the metal knob as he opened it. Warm air blasted into his face, the smoke from the cig back firing onto his face though he cared little about it and walked in, letting the door close behind him. Laughing came from the corner as a group of Oberschtuze sat in the corner at a table, playing cards and one humming along to the woman singing on the record.

Landa made his way to an empty table, away from the Oberschtuze’s and kind of by himself since no one else was around. Taking off his cap, his hand ran over his gelled hair, making sure it was correct and setting the on the table along with unbuttoning and slipping his winter jacket off, setting that aside as well. Was mögen Sie trinken, Rottenfuhrer? the bartender spoke from over by the bar. The drunken Oberschtuze’s heard that, jumping up and saluting though Landa just stood there for a moment staring at them. It’s a bar, not the base. They got the hint after a few awkward moments, sitting back down and going on with their game though one of them kept on looking back to Landa to make sure he wasn’t going to make a stink about anything.

Schnapps, viel davon. His deep tone echoing over to the bartender, that now moved to get the drink. Landa sat down at the table, pulling out a piece of paper out of his uniform pocket and went to open it. The bartender set down the drink as Landa looked up, digging in his pocket with his other hand for some money and setting it out, letting the bartender take what he needed to pay off the Schnapps. His eyes wandered back to the paper, beautiful girlish handwriting covered over the paper; it was from his sister back in Berlin.





Translations:

Was mögen Sie trinken, Rottenfuhrer?
What do you want to drink, Corporal?

Shnapps, viel davon
Schnapps, lots of it.

[Franz Walters]

Franz entered the city of Munich for the first time in a year or two. He had last been deployed and was not able to enter the area for a while due to conflicts in Africa. But, now he was home, and he was happy. It was turning to night time, that meant clubs, bars, and a night of fun and rum. It was getting cold, but people were still out. Young couples, soldiers, the works. Franz's military jeep pulled up to the street and he jumped out. The night was cold, but it would get warm in the bars. But that could wait. Franz made his way to a street vendor, selling small foods, Franz nodded to the man and paid him for a small dish. Franz thanked the man and continued on his way. He began to eat from the dish. It wasn't the best, but anything to fill his stomach until he reached the bar. It had been a while since he had eaten and was very hungry. He ate as he walked, the night to be one to remember.

Franz made his way down the street, finishing off the food. It was a cold night but he didn't have anything heavy on, just the simple uniform. Cold didn't affect him. Not after fighting in Africa with flamethrowers, machine guns, and cannons going off in his face. His comrades had been torn apart during combat, he had seen horrors no man should have. But, that was to be forgotten tonight. It was a good night, he could feel it. He was home, away from all the violence. This was his night, best make the most of it. Franz walked into a bar, one he hadn't heard of before. The place looked nice, they should have something good to drink. As he entered the bar, he caught a wiff of the air - It was the homeland. The smell of cigarettes and drinks. Franz walked to the bar and plunked down on a stool. He slid the bartender two notes and asked for a Heineken. Franz always enjoyed a Heineken, especially on a night like this.

He looked around the area as his drink was set in front of him. The bar wasn't to alive tonight. Franz took a gulp from the glass, and looked over across the bar, he saw a man, A Corporal. "Hallo, Corporal, kann ich einer von denen?", referring to his cigarette. Franz needed a light, he was all out.

Translations:
Hallo, Corporal, kann ich einer von denen?
= Hello, Corporal, may I have one of those?

[Heinrich Landa]

Taking a puff from his cig, Landa let his eyes settle upon the paper. It had been too long since he had seen his family; Mutter, Ava, Derich, and Maximillian. Been too long since those days of childhood, playing soldiers on the front porch and slaying the Americans with their powerful wooden guns and rocks as grenades. Ava use to sit on the stone railing, being the damsel in distress as the brothers would fight each other off for her hand. Those days that Papa would come home in his fancy BMW’s, baring gifts for all of us and spending the day out in the lavish yard and read stories or watch the kids climb to the top of the big tree out back. If only those days never vanished like they did, though human life ventured on and made Landa older, wiser.

Dear Heinrich,

It has been too long since I’ve heard from you, as the last time you wrote was back four months ago when you were in Poland. I hope all is well and you are still alive fighting for the Fatherland, father would be so proud of you and Derich. By what my telephone conversation with Derich, he will be coming home for the wedding. I hope that you also can come home so you can stand for me, next to Hugo for our wedding. It will be at home in the backyard, underneath that tree we use to play under. Mama is letting us move back into the house, she is slowly going downhill from age and when father died did not help her health either.

I miss you, brother, and hope to hear from you soon. Please call me and let me hear your voice again.

Your Sister,
Ava

Her voice echoed in his head, her dainty fingers scrolling across the paper she wrote this letter on. Landa wished she would not being married so soon and to a Luftwaffe General de Flieger. A shiver ran down Landa spine thinking about the Luftwaffe. Why join that when the battle is on the ground? Cowards. Derich better stand in front of Landa that day for the wedding, as Landa would pound the shit out of Hugo and Ava would be quite mad. That was going to be a day of drinking and hiding in the corner, though Ava would need her closest born brother to hold onto and a shoulder to cry on. The soldier in Landa would stand there and take it, though the true Heinrich would sit there and tell Ava not to marry this beast. As long as Ava’s happy, Heinrich could not say much anyways as the two love birds would be taking care of mother was Hugo was soon retiring, lucky bastard.

While Landa read the note, the bar door open and closed. Landa stayed still in his seat, though knowing full well if it was a high officer he would have to stand and salute. It wasn’t, good. Landa’s eyes glanced up off the paper, seeing it was a Obergrandier and looked back down. His hand pulled the cig from his lips, putting it between his ring and index finger of his right hand and grabbing his glass of Schnapps, letting the sweet liquid run down his throat and letting the burn sit there for awhile. Damn good stuff if Landa said so himself.

A voice arose from the bar, knowing full well it wasn’t the card players talking. Taking another gulp of Schnapps, Landa looked up, letting the paper fall to the table before him. The man’s speech lingered in the air, commenting on the cigarettes. Natürlich können Sie ein haben, solange Sie sich mir für die Gesellschaft anschließen. Ich dont denken meine Hände, bin zu Karten ganz noch bereit, mich kennend, würde ich schießen. A grin played upon Landa’s lips. He folded the letter up, putting it back into his winter jacket pocket and grabbing his hard case of cigarettes and lighter. Landa moved the jacket and hat onto the other side of the table, so then if the Obergrandier wanted to join he could.


Translation:

Natürlich können Sie ein haben, solange Sie sich mir für die Gesellschaft anschließen. Ich dont denken meine Hände, bin zu Karten ganz noch bereit, mich kennend, würde ich schießen.

Of course you can have one, as long as you join me for company. I don’t think my hands are ready for cards quite yet, knowing me I would loose.

OOC: The letter from Ava is written in German, but I did not want to Translate it out on the bottom, hence in english up in the post.

[Franz Walters]

Franz heard the man's reply, and grinned, taking a seat at the table. He leaned back in the seat. Franz took one of the cigarettes from the case, and allowed the corporal to light him up. Franz took a puff off of the cigarette with satisfaction, and looked over at the man. "Also, wo Sie gerade her?", Franz asked the fellow soldier. Franz was leaned back in the chair, very relaxed as he watched the card games around him and waited for the man's response. People came and went in the bar, no one special, a few other soldiers but not many. Franz thought up a plan of what to do while he was in Munich, and seeing his family was probably the next thing he would do after his visit at the bar. He picked up the Heineken glass and took a drink, setting it back down on the table with ease.

The night was beginning to set in, and outside small flurries of snow began to fall. The amount of traffic began to fall, less people being on the streets. The stars began to fade as the snow slowly fell to the ground like ashes. Franz was very relaxed with the bar setting, nothing threatening, very cozy place. Franz nodded with the man's answer, acknowledging him well.

Translations:
Also, wo Sie gerade her?
So, where are you from?
OOC: Sorry for the short post, it's been a long day and I am still occupied with some things.

[Heinrich Landa]

The Obergrandier moved over to the table by Landa, his boots gently clicking against the ground, not like the jackboots but loud enough to find if one would be listening for boots to find an enemy. His body sinking down into the chair next to Landa, his finger digging through the hard case and finding just the right cigarette for himself, closing the case and setting it back in front of Landa. Landa’s hands put the hard case into his uniform jacket, taking the lighter and flicking it on, the small flame illuminating from the top of it. Lighting up the other German’s cig, Landa flipped the cap, extinguishing the flame and put that back into his pocket as well. Puffs of smoke came from this other man as he sat back into the chair, enjoying himself. Landa pulled the cig from his mouth with his right hand, taking his own drink with the left and taking a swig, letting the sweet flavor roll down his throat and letting his taste buds take in the alcohol taste. It was one thing that actually tasted good on a cold night.

Flicking the ashes into an ashtray in front of Landa, he brought the cig back up to his lips, taking a drag and letting the smoke linger in his lungs before letting it blow out of his nose, the smoke rising into the air and vanishing towards the ceiling. The voice of the other German perked Landa up, making his eyes shoot straight over to him and seeing his lips move. “Berlin, sollte in der nächsten Woche oder so für die Erlaubnis nachhause gehen. Meine Schwester verheiratet sich, so mindestens werde ich kommen, um Berlin noch einmal zu sehen, Sie wissen nie in diesem Krieg, wenn Sie sterben oder nicht.”

Yes, Ava. That little sister of Landa’s. It would be her wedding to Hugo Wanderland. A chill ran down his spine thinking of that name, why oh why did it have to be Hugo? Removing his cig from his lips and taking a swig of Schnapps once again, the drink was a little longer this time. Finishing off the drink, he ordered another which probably would be his last one for the night before he walked back to the barracks and hit the stack. “Und Sie? Muss es verpassen, wie ich meinig tue.” The bartender brought Landa’s drink, giving him the notes that he needed and then the bartender walked off to load up on the drinks for the low lives that were playing cards.

” So was bringt Ihnen zu dieser Bar heute Abend? Nacht, um mit dem Krieg zu entkommen?” It was true for Landa, it was enough to think about it twenty-four fucking seven and three sixty-five. Who knew this was going to last this long, Hilter taking over more and more. You would think that at one time he’d call it enough and want to just work in what he already had. Greedy bastard.

Translations:

Berlin, sollte in der nächsten …
Berlin, should be going home in the next week or so for leave. My sister is getting married, so at least I’ll get to see Berlin once again, you never know in this war if you die or not.

Und Sie? Muss es verpassen, wie ich meinig tue.
And you? Must be missing it as I do mine.

So was bringt Ihnen zu dieser Bar heute Abend? Nacht, um mit dem Krieg zu entkommen?
So what brings you to this bar tonight? Night to get away from the war?

[Franz Walters]

OOC: Short post, been busy, very sorry for the inconvinence.
IG:
Franz was relaxed and smoking his cigarette, leaning back in the chair. He took a few drinks from his Heineken, and looked over at the new face he had met. The man had loaned him a seat and a cigarette, a night to unfold into further events. The man said something to Franz and it took him a moment to analyze it in his brain and come with a response. After a moment, he nodded.
"Ja, nur eine Pause von allem, kam zurück in meine Heimatstadt der Familie zu sehen.'
Franz nodded with the response, and took another drink, and another puff off of his cigarette. The ash fell into the nearby tray, the tip of the cigarette still burning. The reply from Franz was quick and to the point, having missed some of what had been said to him. He was out of it, his body there and his mind somewhere else, only tuning in at one point. He didn't do it to be rude, but he couldn't do anything about it.
"Ich bin auf sowie zu verlassen."
What Franz had said was the truth, he was on leave. It was a nice break from the war, and he was happy to be out. Franz took a final puff of his cigarette before smashing the butt into the ashtray. Then he took a drink of the Heineken, which was almost empty.

Translations:
"Ja, nur eine Pause von allem, kam zurück in meine Heimatstadt der Familie zu sehen.'"
"Yes, just a break from everything came back to my hometown to see the family."

"Ich bin auf sowie zu verlassen."
I'm on leave.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post:

The following CP has been issued:

Landa - 5

Walters - 4

-JT