Fliegerhorst [Ryan]

[Rolf Jäger]

Country: Germany
Current Time: 12.00, early spring 1940
Weather: A pleasant, warm day with only a weak breeze in the air.


The rumble and roar of engines, the strong smell of petrol and the occasional metallic clinking of tools penetrated the warm midday air around the German military airfield. The mechanics were busy fixing and preparing the various fighters and bombers inside the large air hangar and several people were buzzing about, busy with one thing or another. The large doors of the hangar had been pushed open to allow fresh air inside and the day seemed to be developing into a pleasant one, indeed. Only a few lazy clouds were lingering up in the bright-blue sky and the sun shone benevolently down on the busy airfield.

Someone had set up a pair of wooden chairs next to the open doorway of the hangar and also dragged in four wooden crates outside. Two of the smaller crates served as footstools for the Luftwaffe men sitting in the chairs and the two other crates had been stacked to serve as a temporary table. The other man, a Luftwaffe Hauptmann, had placed his peaked cap on top of the crates and was now casually reclining back in his chair, his polished black boots resting on the smaller crate. He was obviously enjoying the beautiful weather and the atmosphere of the airfield, for his grey eyes were half-closed and an almost invisible smile lingered on his lips. Hauptmann Rolf Jäger was savoring the sights and sounds surrounding him and even though he couldn't take up to the sky himself, just being in this particular atmosphere seemed to have a calming quality on him.

Hauptfeldwebel Kronberg was sitting in the other chair and he was constantly glancing at the Hauptmann, as if waiting for something to happen. He knew the man and moments such as these - with Rolf sitting in one place, not saying a word or doing anything at all - were few and rare. Usually the man was bursting with energy and he always wanted to be doing something. He would get easily irritated if he was, for example, forced to spend long hours inside his office and was usually in best spirits when he was busy with something. Right now he seemed to be in a rather good mood and the Luftwaffe officer casually observed the occasional fighter flying overhead or taking off from the runway. They had been inspecting some of the newly graduated pilots and Rolf had also met with some of the newest recruits. It was good to know the men you would be working with.

A shiny, black BMW R35 was standing nearby and casually thrown over it's saddle was a black leather jacket decorated with the silver swastika-grasping eagle of the Luftwaffe. Hauptmann Jäger was often seen moving from one place to another on his motorcycle and this curious habit of his had earned him both amused admiration and silent scorn. Some people considered him too unpredictable and whimsical by the German military standards. His moods could change very rapidly and the pilots he had been training much of his career had learned to fear and watch out for Jäger's sudden outbursts. On the other hand, when it came to matters of flying and air battles, the young Hauptmann was all business. His decisions were swift and efficient and even the people who disliked Rolf for his small quirks would often grudgingly admit that the Hauptmann was at least taking care of his tasks proficiently. He might have been flashy and quite self-centered, but when he was talking about tactics or piloting his fighter, his mind was always entirely focused on the mission. Right now he was waiting to meet a freshly recruited Leutnant - he had specifically requested to meet him at the airfield that day. He wanted to meet this one personally, the Leutnant already seemed like an interesting addition to the unit, not least because of his unusual background.

Hauptmann Jäger casually searched for a case of cigarettes from his pocket, picking up a cigarette and tapping it on the lid of the case a few times. Poking the cigarette in his mouth, he, mostly out of habit than actual practicality, shielded the flame of the lighter with his other hand for a while and soon breathed out lazy wisps of grey smoke.

[Gottfried Schmitt]

“Good run,” Greta spoke quietly to herself, bringing the Messerschmitt low over the edge of the runway and down to the surface, decelerating slowly to a stop. The weak breeze and sunny sky posed few problems, and so it was with a slight smile and a spring in her step that the Feldwebel exited her plane, the cooling engine still pinging behind her. Walking past the wings and to the tail, she gestured to the elevators when one of the ground crew approached her. There had been a slight delay during the last quarter of her flight, and she wanted to make sure it was not the beginning of a sticky elevator before the next flight went up.

With the assurance that a mechanic would inspect the piece, she got out of the way so the ground crew could continue with their work. That finished, she turned and strode off toward the large hangar in which mechanics prepared the military aircraft for service. There were many other pilots to test; if her instructions were correct, she would be informed as to whether her performance passed inspection once all proceedings were complete.

In the meantime, she had received a message earlier in the day that Hauptmann Jäger wished to meet with some of the recruits, herself included. Though her morning had been taken by the flight, she was now free for a time and did not dare put off the meeting and inconvenience a high-ranking officer. Especially not Hauptmann Jäger, whose reputation preceded him as a man of sudden and mercurial disposition. Given the choice, she would take her chances in the air with a sticky elevator, rather than risk rousing the ire of such a man.

The hangar, within easy distance of the strip to which she had been assigned, was full of a hustle and bustle which attested to the industrious nature of those come to defend the Fatherland. A glint of light caught her eye, and she felt her heart start at the sight of a motorcycle which must belong to the Hauptmann himself. The older men told new recruits tales of his tearing from place to place upon it, some stories ending in amusement and others in warning. Even with all the gossip, Greta really had no idea what to expect in her meeting with the Hauptmann.

Though she had never really met the man, she surmised that he must be one of the two seated in chairs near the hangar door. From what she could see, the rankings on their uniforms confirmed her observation. With no small amount of trepidation she hoped her purposeful stride would conceal, she finished her hike to the hangar.

A small ways off she paused to gauge how occupied the two men appeared. Hauptmann Jäger reclined in his seat looking content while the other man, a Hauptfeldwebel by attire, watched. With the warm weather and soft breeze, perhaps she would have the luck of finding her superiors in amiable moods. Thus reassured, and unwilling to stand idle among so much business, the Feldwebel closed distance to the two men’s location, snapping into a precise, practiced salute upon arrival. If there was one thing she secretly prided herself on, it was the salute which she had spent hours working to perfect.

“Guten tag, Hauptmann Jäger, Hauptfeldwebel Kronberg.”

[Rolf Jäger]

The Hauptmann watched as the graceful and deadly Messerschmitt glided over the grass and bumped slightly when it's wheels touched down on the runway. Rolf had always liked the Messerschmitt, it felt like a very personal and particularly characteristic fighter to fly. Even after the various different adjustments and modifications made to the aircraft, it still retained it's own quirks and Rolf much preferred the fighter that way - it was hardly a boring fighter to fly. The engine worked like a charm and sounded divine, lacking any nasty rattling that was characteristic to some other engines. Rolf's own Messerschmitt, one he had fondly christened Lola, had not taken to the skies for some time now and the thought made the young Hauptmann frown. Seeing this, Kronberg shifted his weight on the chair uneasily, nodding quickly towards the pilot who had exited the fighter and was now making his way towards the hangar. "Vielleicht das ist man von euch, Herr Hauptmann?" Kronberg suggested and Rolf flicked some ashes from his cigarette to the ground, his gaze shifting from the Messerschmitt to the pilot. "Vielleicht," the man replied in a low voice and settled into enjoying his cigarette once again, watching as the Luftwaffe pilot now bee-lined towards them.

“Guten tag, Hauptmann Jäger, Hauptfeldwebel Kronberg,” the man snapped into a precise salute in front of the two men and Rolf studied his features for a while. He seemed very young, maybe slightly smaller in stature than most men in the German army, but fighter pilots hardly needed to have too much bulk, anyway. The less weight there was affecting the aircraft, the easier it was to maneuver and massive men would not have even been able to fit themselves inside the snug cockpit of the Messerschmitt. Rolf himself was quite averagely built and his muscles were trained for stamina instead of sudden bursts of strength. Rolf's grey eyes narrowed and he regarded the young pilot in silence for a moment, the tiny breeze ruffling his sandy hair. Then the Hautpmann lifted a hand to his brow to return the salute. "Feldwebel," the man said casually. "Ich sehe, dass Sie bereits mit unseren Namen, Feldwebel vertraut sind, noch weiß ich Ihrig nicht," Rolf regarded in a leisurely manner, taking his time to pronounce each word slowly to make sure they would sink in. There was a hint of warning to the lazy tone of his voice and as Rolf spoke, his head tilted slowly to the side. He realized that the presence of his motorcycle might have been a giveaway when it came to his identity and he naturally enjoyed getting recognized by people he had never met before, but he disliked the fact that he had no idea of the new recruit's name himself and that the Feldwebel had failed to mention it.

Still, he was in rather good spirits and Rolf smirked slightly, dropping his boots down from the crate. "Setzen Sie sich, Feldwebel," the man nodded towards the small wooden crate, taking another drag from his cigarette. He might have not let such a breach in protocol slide so easily if he had not been feeling exceptionally amiable like today. "Ich beobachtete Ihre Landung, das war ... gut," Rolf sat up straighter in his chair. Hauptmann Jäger was not one to use lavish words when someone did well and this acknowledgement was usually as good as it got. The man raised his chin up and his steel-grey eyes regarded the young Feldwebel in a rather penetrating manner. "Wie viele Flugstunden im Messerschmitt haben Sie, Feldwebel?"


Translations:

"Vielleicht das ist man von euch, Herr Hauptmann?"
"Maybe this is one of yours, Herr Hauptmann?"

"Vielleicht."
"Maybe."

"Ich sehe, dass Sie bereits mit unseren Namen, Feldwebel vertraut sind, noch weiß ich Ihrig nicht."
"I see that you are already familiar with our names, Feldwebel, yet I do not know yours."

"Setzen Sie sich, Feldwebel."
"Sit down, Feldwebel."

"Ich beobachtete Ihre Landung, das war ... gut."
"I observed your landing, it was... good."

"Wie viele Flugstunden im Messerschmitt haben Sie, Feldwebel?"
"How many flight hours in the Messerschmitt do you have behind you, Feldwebel?"

[Gottfried Schmitt]

Greta held her salute as she should, staring straight ahead as the Hauptmann regarded her. She wanted to feel relieved when he returned the salute and she was by protocol allowed to drop her arm, but for some reason his manner kept her on edge. She had saluted correctly hadn’t she? What was it she said to him? She tried to remember correctly, but she had been nervous enough that most of the last few seconds went by in a blur. She had not spoken with an officer ranking this high before, much less the somewhat infamous Hauptmann Jäger.

"Ich sehe, dass Sie bereits mit unseren Namen, Feldwebel vertraut sind, noch weiß ich Ihrig nicht,"

He spoke slowly, and she clearly heard the warning behind every word. Beunruhigend. She had definitely said the wrong thing, then. She could feel heat rising in her cheeks and she knew the faint blush which her American found so endearing would soon be visible if she did not get herself under control. Telling herself firmly that weakness such as that would not be looked kindly upon in this place, she snapped to attention and steeled herself for the coming reprimand—

"Setzen Sie sich, Feldwebel,"

—A blink, and a hesitant thought, Richtig ich hörte?

She did not have time to contemplate his command to sit, however, as he was already continuing to speak, complimenting her on her earlier flight, and asking, “Wie viele Flugstunden im Messerschmitt haben Sie, Feldwebel?" Unsure whether this was a test or simply pleasantries, she paused for the briefest of moments and wondered to what she should respond first, the request to sit or the questions. With a mental sigh of resignation and the knowledge that Weiss would probably find this encounter uproariously funny, provided she got out of it in enough of a piece to inform him, she followed the Hauptmann’s speech in order and perched, back straight, upon the indicated seat.

“Danke schön Herr Hauptmann,” She responded gravely. Though that was easy, the question after the compliment was harder. Everyone got nearly the same amount of flight hours during training, so was he expecting her to count those, as well as the hours since she had graduated? Of course, in addition to military flight training she had flown many hours as a civilian aviator, but if the Hauptmann wished to know about every time she had been in the air, he would not have asked specifically about her hours in the Messerschmitt, would he? She would assume he just meant these Messerschmitts, then. He would correct her if she was mistaken, she felt sure. “Siebenunddreißig stunde im Messerschmitt hier ich habe, Herr Hauptmann.”

Speaking of the Messerschmitt made her dearly wish she were back in the air, sticky elevator or no. She could deal well with the stresses of the sky, but interactions outside of the plane made her jumpy. After all, people could see you on the ground, and there was always the fear of discovery to weigh upon her. At this point, she would seriously debate which was more nerve-wracking, facing down a wing of enemy fighters or meeting with her superiors.

A stray breeze whirled past them, carrying with it the healthy growl of plane engines. She blinked once and awaited the Hauptmann’s command.


Translations:

Beunruhigend
(Troubling.)

Richtig ich hörte?
(Rightly I heard? / Did I hear him correctly?)

“Danke schön Herr Hauptmann,”
(Thank you very much, Herr Hauptmann.)

“Siebenunddreißig stunde im Messerschmitt hier ich habe, Herr Hauptmann.”
(I have thirty-seven hours in the Messerschmitt here, Herr Hauptmann.)

[Rolf Jäger]

It wasn't the first time Rolf had witnessed other people growing anxious and confused in his company and he had actually quite learned to enjoy the feeling. Making other people uneasy gave him a certain kind of power. It was power over their emotions and reactions, a thing often overlooked by many, but Rolf knew how useful it could be. Sometimes all it took to change a person's mind was just a nudge in the right direction - once they succumbed to one emotion, other emotions would follow more easily and getting controlled by emotions always made people more easy to influence. It was not really Rolf's intention to control the young pilot, however, he was merely intrigued by his reactions and he also wanted to test the strength of his character. The Hauptmann's grey eyes stayed on the Feldwebel as he took a seat on top of the wooden crate, his back rigid and posture precise. He answered Jäger's question promptly, although in reality Rolf was not really that interested in the exact number of hours the pilot had spent in a Messerschmitt. He only asked these questions from the newly recruited pilots to see how quickly and effortlessly they were able to respond.

"Na schön, Feldwebel," Rolf said slowly, languidly, flicking the cigarette from his fingers and exhaling the last remaining smoke through his nostrils. The Hauptmann glanced at Hauptfeldwebel Kronberg, who had all this time merely sat silently, observing the discussion, but mostly paying attention to Jäger's current mood. The Hauptmann's previously amiable mood had changed ever so slightly to something more calculating, almost insidious, and Kronberg had been around the man long enough to notice the small change. Rolf's eyes moved to regard Kronberg and he nodded at the man, who quickly produced a folded piece of paper from the breast pocket of his tunic. "Ihr Name, Feldwebel?" Kronberg asked with an arch of his eyebrow, waiting to hear the young man's name so he could make a note that the pilot had arrived for the appointment accordingly.

Rolf waited until the pilot had given his name and in the meanwhile observed the aircraft that was making it's landing further away. Rolf's eyes settled on the young Feldwebel once again, looking for any signs of weakness or nervousness. The Hauptmann could not stand weak and jittery pilots and would have never trusted them to cover his back while in combat. Situational awareness and the ability to keep one's cool were vital for a fighter pilot's survival and also to the survival of his wingmen. There was something different to this Feldwebel and Rolf was now slowly realizing that it was not a weakness he was seeing, it was... something else. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it.

A very slow smile crept to the lips of the sandy-haired Hauptmann and his eyes narrowed. "Feldwebel Schmitt. Sie sind... von Bayern richtig?" the man suddenly grinned wider and tilted his head to the side. "Ich kann erzählen, in der Weise Sie sprechen. Ich bin von Stuttgart selbst," there was obvious pride and arrogance to the Hauptmann's words, almost as if he wanted to challenge someone to comment negatively so he could snap at them. There was only the occasional hint of Swabian dialect to Jäger's words, but mostly spoke in Hochdeutsch. Still, he was quite proud of his origins and had even decorated the side of his Messerschmitt with the black, rearing horse of Stuttgart's coat of arms. The horse also had another important meaning to Rolf, since he had spent his childhood among these animals and was expecting to inherit the stables and the stock of breeding horses owned by his father once it was his time to start taking care of the family lands. "Wo von Bayern sind Sie, Feldwebel? Haben Sie Familie dort?" Jäger's eyes stayed on the Feldwebel as he posed his question. Not that he was truly interested in hearing the life story and the origins of the pilot - he was merely interested in seeing if the question would pressure the young man into getting more nervous - a reaction which could prove to be quite disastrous in front of the sly Luftwaffe officer, indeed.


Translations:

"Na schön, Feldwebel."
"Very well, Feldwebel."

"Ihr Name, Feldwebel?"
"Your name, Feldwebel?"

"Feldwebel Schmitt. Sie sind... von Bayern richtig?"
"Feldwebel Schmitt. You are... from Bavaria, right?"

"Ich kann erzählen, in der Weise Sie sprechen. Ich bin von Stuttgart selbst."
"I can tell by the way you speak. I'm from Stuttgart myself."

"Wo von Bayern sind Sie, Feldwebel? Haben Sie Familie dort?"
"Where from Bavaria are you, Feldwebel? Have you family back there?"

[Gottfried Schmitt]

It was easy to forget that the Hauptfeldwebel was present in the few minutes that had passed since entering this situation. Greta shifted slightly as he withdrew a piece of paper from his jacket, watching somewhat warily this new development.

"Ihr Name, Feldwebel?"

She paused for a brief second, her mouth automatically forming the name of her dead brother even as her mind thought Greta. The names were one and the same now, were they not? Except, this Gottfried was not quite the Gottfried present in her younger life. The real Gottfried was airy, intransient, more a man of ink and words than the world around him. Greta herself was the hands to Gottfried’s mind, always the doer but rarely the thinker. This shell she wore? A Gottfried graver than the tomb, born of a grief Greta would never let herself feel and a temper to the femininity which would have given the woman away instantly. This was a new Gottfried that hung about her like a shroud, not possessing her as a ghost—

“Ich bin Feldwebel Gottfried Schmitt, Herr Hauptfeldwebel,”

By will alone, she brought nervous bits of her mind together, forcing them to quiet and locking them together. Her personality may stretch thin under the strain of this façade, but her mind must be sharp regardless. The Hauptmann was testing her; that much was clear by the calculating look in his eyes. It was the same look she had seen in the eyes of countless men, looking for a reason to turn her away from a job, seeking because of her gender to discount her as less than worthless. She had let none of them break her; this man would not be the first. With what courage she could muster, she looked attentively at Hauptmann Jäger. The meeting was not over yet.

"Feldwebel Schmitt. Sie sind... von Bayern richtig? Ich kann erzählen, in der Weise Sie sprechen. Ich bin von Stuttgart selbst,"

“Sie sind richtig, Herr Hauptmann,” Greta replied with a self-deprecating grin, only marginally surprised at the Hauptmann’s observance. Weiss picked fun at her about her accent often enough, though she could not hear it, it must be strong enough to mark her country upbringing for anyone familiar with the area. Stuttgart, though? She had certainly never been there, and knew about it only what little she had overheard on the airstrip. The talk had generally been positive, though. “Ich höre sehr nett Stuttgart ist. Ich habe mich noch nie dort gewesen, wenn auch, Herr Hauptmann.”

"Wo von Bayern sind Sie, Feldwebel? Haben Sie Familie dort?"

Well, that wiped her smile away. If there was one thing she had hoped the military would let her forget, it was her origins. She hesitated, hateful memories of her time on the farm resurfacing unbidden. She did not need to tell him of that, she thought, trying to force the images away. She would not grieve for those undeserving of it. Unwilling to say more than necessary on this subject, with closed features she said shortly,

“Ich bin aus einem Zuchtbetrieb in Erding. Ich habe keine Familie überall, Herr Hauptmann.”

Translations:

“Ich bin Feldwebel Gottfried Schmitt, Herr Hauptfeldwebel,”
(“I am Feldwebel Gottfried Schmitt, Herr Hauptfeldwebel,”)

“Sie sind richtig, Herr Hauptmann,”
(“You are right, Herr Hauptmann,”)

“Ich höre sehr nett Stuttgart ist. Ich habe mich noch nie dort gewesen, wenn auch, Herr Hauptmann.”
(“I hear Stuttgart is very nice. I have never been there myself, though, Herr Hauptmann.”)

“Ich bin aus einem Zuchtbetrieb in Erding. Ich habe keine Familie überall, Herr Hauptmann.”
(“I am from a farm in Erding. I have no family anywhere, Herr Haputmann.”)

[Rolf Jäger]

The air had grown tense and still around the three people sitting next to the flight hangar. Rolf's grey eyes were narrowed into a cold, calculating stare as he watched the young Feldwebel give his name to the Hauptmann's assistant. It seemed as if even the gentle breeze that had brought a breath of fresh air earlier, had now quieted down, making the air feel heavy and almost oppressing despite the comfortably benign temperature. Rolf could not shake the strange feeling off - he knew there was something different about this particular pilot and he found the dubious situation increasingly irritating. Maybe he had been just sitting still for far too long? It usually was more than enough to drive him up the walls.

The Hauptmann relaxed visibly in his chair and tilted his head to the side as Schmitt answered his question concerning his origins. The Feldwebel felt even comfortable enough to answer the question with a grin and Rolf answered with a small, slow smile which did not quite reach his eyes. “Ich höre sehr nett Stuttgart ist. Ich habe mich noch nie dort gewesen, wenn auch, Herr Hauptmann,” the Feldwebel noted courteously and this time the Hauptmann smiled a more natural smile. "Oh, dann haben Sie auf vielen guten Dingen, Feldwebel gefehlt. Stuttgart hat viele wunderbare alte Gebäude, zu viele, um zu erwähnen, solche schöne Architektur. Und die Parks und die alten Kirchen sind ein echter Anblick, um zu sehen. Sie sollten dort einmal besuchen, ich bin sicher, dass Sie es genießen würden," Rolf commented with more than just a hint of pride in his voice. Rolf loved receiving compliments, whether they were aimed at him or towards the city he considered his home. He was smart enough to usually spot the pretentious compliments that were said merely to get on his good side or sometimes, were nothing more than insults, poorly disguised by their giver. As self-absorbed and haughty as Rolf might have appeared, he was usually skilled at picking up other people's emotions and the true meaning behind their words - he was a lawyer by trade and such skills were often needed in the courtroom.

Still, the words of the Feldwebel had seemed genuine enough and Rolf felt slightly more comfortable around the young man again. At least he had possessed the brain to say something nice about Stuttgart - most fresh pilots were too flabbergasted to spout out anything else but 'Ja, Herr Hauptmann' or 'Nein, Herr Hauptmann'. It was clear that such discussions never developed into anything interesting. Rolf's eyes lighted up with sudden intrigue when the Feldwebel's smile vanished upon being questioned about his family. It was clear that some kind of a tragedy lingered in the Feldwebel's past and even though Rolf held little interest for other people's menial lives, knowing some of these details did often gave him something he could use for his advantage later. “Ich bin aus einem Zuchtbetrieb in Erding. Ich habe keine Familie überall, Herr Hauptmann,” the Feldwebel answered, almost laboredly. The Hauptmann merely raised his eyebrows at his answer. "Welche Scham, Feldwebel. Aber wir sind alle gerade eine große Familie hier, sind wir nicht, Kronberg?" the Hauptmann threw a sudden, almost boyish grin towards the Hauptfeldwebel, who visibly jumped at the other man's words and fell silent for a moment before answering. "Aber ja, Herr Hauptmann," the man managed to say and Rolf raised his hand in the air, nodding towards Feldwebel Schmitt and tilting his head to the side as if to say; 'I told you so'.

Looking at the young Feldwebel, a sudden and quite surprising thought surfaced inside Rolf's head and the realization was evident on the man's features. "Feldwebel Schmitt, wie sind Sie mit Pferden?" the man asked, although he continued before the pilot could answer - clearly the answer did not really matter at all. "Sie sehen, ich hatte gerade diese Idee. Ich bin dabei zu gehen, an diesem Wochenende reitend, und Kronberg wird schrecklich langweilig, um ringsherum als Gesellschaft zu bleiben. Sie sollten mit mir kommen, die Ställe sind nicht mehr als fünfzehn Kilometer von hier, Sie werden eine Autofahrt dort natürlich bekommen. Ich dachte am Samstag, das Wetter sollte angenehm sein," Rolf said in a rather amiable tone of voice, even throwing in a small smile. It was true, he was tired of Kronberg and the way he only said what was necessary, rarely coming up with anything interesting at all. As much as he appreciated the Hauptfeldwebel's obedience and eye for keeping up with Rolf's suddenly changing moods, he could be awfully boring as company. If this Feldwebel Schmitt knew how to maintain a good conversation and not keep falling off a horse, he couldn't be worse company than Kronberg was now. Rolf was used to just acting on an impulse and he needed no specific reason for inviting... well, ordering the Feldwebel to accompany him. Maybe he did it purely because he could.

"Wie hört sich das an, Schmitt?" the sandy-haired young Hauptmann posed the question casually and a small smile was still lingering on his lips, although it was clear that a negative answer would spell trouble for the Feldwebel.


Translations:

"Oh, dann haben Sie auf vielen guten Dingen, Feldwebel gefehlt..."
"Oh, then you have missed on many good things, Feldwebel. Stuttgart has many wonderful old buildings, too many to mention, such beautiful architecture. And the parks and the old churches are quite a sight to see. You should visit there sometime, I'm sure you would enjoy it."

"Welche Scham, Feldwebel. Aber wir sind alle gerade eine große Familie hier, sind wir nicht, Kronberg?"
"What a shame, Feldwebel. But we are all just one big family here, are we not, Kronberg?"

"Aber ja, Herr Hauptmann."
"Oh yes, indeed, Herr Hauptmann."

"Feldwebel Schmitt, wie sind Sie mit Pferden?"
"Feldwebel Schmitt, how are you with horses?"

"Sie sehen, ich hatte gerade diese Idee..."
"You see, I just had this idea. I'm going to go riding this weekend and Kronberg is becoming dreadfully boring to keep around as company. You should come with me, the stables are no more than fifteen kilometers from here, you'll get a car ride there, of course. I was thinking Saturday, the weather should be good."

"Wie hört sich das an, Schmitt?"
"How does that sound to you, Schmitt?"

[Gottfried Schmitt]

"Oh, dann haben Sie auf vielen guten Dingen, Feldwebel gefehlt. Stuttgart hat viele wunderbare alte Gebäude, zu viele, um zu erwähnen, solche schöne Architektur. Und die Parks und die alten Kirchen sind ein echter Anblick, um zu sehen. Sie sollten dort einmal besuchen, ich bin sicher, dass Sie es genießen würden,” The Hauptmann responded to Greta’s comment about Stuttgart. He seemed pleased by her praise, uninformed though it may have been, and the Feldwebel simply smiled and nodded with interest, commenting at the end, “Vielleicht eines Tages werde ich die Stadt zu besuchen und sehen, all diese Dinge, Herr Hauptmann,” From the sound of it, Stuttgart would indeed be a place worth visiting, though some part of Greta wondered just how much of the sterling reputation she was privy to hearing was embellished by the Hauptmann’s pride in his city. To find out, she would just have to go one day and see, she decided.

It was then that the Hauptmann asked her about her family and her mood began to darken. Of course there was no way the man could know how the comment would affect her, but it still wrenched from her a moment of weakness she would rather not experience. The heavy air seemed to press against Greta, filling her lungs and head and making it hard to think. Something about this conversation, talking about her past…Wird es Regen, frage ich mich? The thought flew through her mind inanely, and she made an effort to bring herself back to the conversation.

"Welche Scham, Feldwebel. Aber wir sind alle gerade eine große Familie hier, sind wir nicht, Kronberg?"

Kronberg, surprisingly, jumped when the Hauptmann directed the comment at him. Was the Hauptfeldwebel not a friend of the Hauptmann’s, then? Greta watched his behavior as best she could, though the Hauptmann seemed willing to ignore his anxiousness and the Feldwebel, for her part, had to keep her thoughts focused on the officer leading the conversation. Somehow she felt that Hauptmann Jäger would not at all appreciate someone giving anything but their full attention to him over the course of a meeting. If they were ‘one big family’, then did that make Hauptmann Jäger the authoritative father figure? This thought, of course, reminded her of her own father, a memory she felt it wise to suppress for the moment. The Hauptmann, of course, made this easy as a new idea struck him:

"Feldwebel Schmitt, wie sind Sie mit Pferden?"

Horses. Greta almost visibly flinched, and had to stop herself from getting up then and walking away. How would the Hauptmann respond if she told him it was the hooves of their draft horse that had broken her father’s ribs and fractured what was before a solid family? Just how did he expect her to respond to that?

"Sie sehen, ich hatte gerade diese Idee. Ich bin dabei zu gehen, an diesem Wochenende reitend, und Kronberg wird schrecklich langweilig, um ringsherum als Gesellschaft zu bleiben. Sie sollten mit mir kommen, die Ställe sind nicht mehr als fünfzehn Kilometer von hier, Sie werden eine Autofahrt dort natürlich bekommen. Ich dachte am Samstag, das Wetter sollte angenehm sein,"

Apparently, in this case the correct response was to say nothing at all. Perhaps this was a show of power, or perhaps the Hauptmann was genuinely attempting to be amiable, in his own way. Greta honestly could not read the man that well; she glanced quickly at the Hauptfeldwebel as he was mentioned, and decided that it must be a form of entertainment for the Hauptmann. After all, if one cared what another thought of them, one would not treat the other so flippantly, she assumed. If that was the case, then the Hauptmann was offering her the figurative gilded basket, not out of kindness necessarily, but simply to see if the viper inside would bite. It was after this thought that she realized there had been a pause and she had yet to answer the officer.

"Wie hört sich das an, Schmitt?" Hauptmann Jäger asked with a small smile, and Greta saw the verbal gilded basket before her. There was no question for him that she would accept his invitation; it was a pretty gift, and even knowing that a viper lay coiled inside, this was an order wrapped in a request for her to take it. Wenn ich wie mein Vater zu sterben, bitte dem Tod schnell zu machen, she prayed, wondering if anyone listened anymore to the prayers of her family, so much misfortune had they suffered. Attempting something resembling a polite smile, and hoping the Hauptmann would take her pause in stride as he had the Hauptfeldwebel’s startled reaction to his earlier attention, she responded finally, “Ich würde mich geehrt. Vielen Dank, Herr Hauptmann.”

Translations:

“Vielleicht eines Tages werde ich die Stadt zu besuchen und sehen, all diese Dinge, Herr Hauptmann,”
(“Perhaps one day I will visit the city and see all these things, Herr Hauptmann,”)

Wird es Regen, frage ich mich?
(Will it rain, I wonder?)

Wenn ich wie mein Vater zu sterben, bitte dem Tod schnell zu machen,
(If I am to die like my father, please make the death a quick one,)

“Ich würde mich geehrt. Vielen Dank, Herr Hauptmann.”
(“I would be honoured. Thank you very much, Herr Hauptmann.”)

[Rolf Jäger]

A moment of silence passed between the Feldwebel and the Hauptmann after Rolf had posed his question. Although outwardly Rolf did not express his emotions in any way, inside he wondered what had caused for the young man to hesitate. It was clear that having one's commanding officer suggest something like a riding trip could only be answered positively, but it seemed as if the answer was not quite as clear to the Feldwebel. It might have been that he was only surprised by the Hauptmann's suggestion, maybe he hesitated because he didn't even know how to ride a horse or maybe... it was something else. Even though the friendly smile remained on the Hauptmann's features, his grey eyes narrowed slowly as he waited for Schmitt's answer. Right now the sandy-haired Luftwaffe officer appeared calm and collected, but under that seemingly smooth surface something dangerous and unpredictable lingered - it was the same feeling one might have experienced while watching the still surface of a dark lake. You did not actually see anything and surely it was just your imagination running wild, but you could imagine.. you could feel it in the cold shivers running through your spine. Under those cold, dark waters a predator lingered, waiting for the right moment to strike, waiting for someone to stir the relative peace of the lake.

Under the surface the beast smiled benevolently. Patiently.

“Ich würde mich geehrt. Vielen Dank, Herr Hauptmann,” the Feldwebel finally said and truth to be told, Rolf would have outright jumped up from his seat had the young pilot said no. The smile on Rolf's lips widened into a grin and he appeared quite delighted, as unsurprising as the Feldwebel's answer was. "Sehr gut, Schmitt, sehr gut! Es wird sein erfrischend, um jemanden neu zu haben, um mit zur Abwechselung zu sprechen," Rolf announced cheerfully and Kronberg merely frowned at his words. He did not actually appear to be very offended, but the Hauptmann's words were slightly unexpected. Kronberg was usually the one to accompany the Hauptmann wherever he went and Rolf had liked to keep things that way - he knew Kronberg was smart enough to take a step back when he started getting irritated and they did not really clash with each other at all. Then again, just such company was starting to get very boring and Rolf figured that it was time to enjoy some change.

The smile still lingered on the Hauptmann's lips as he moved away the sleeve of his blue tunic to take a look at the hands of his slightly worn Hanhart-wristwatch, a chronograph that was quite popular among the pilots of the Luftwaffe. "Ich werde getan wartend, ich ausgehen mit Mitzi," Rolf announced suddenly, grabbing his officer's cap as he started getting up from his seat. Kronberg was quick to get up from his seat also - the military protocol stated that once an officer got up from his seat, the enlisted men near him should follow his example. "Herr Hauptmann, was werde ich dem Leutnant erzählen?" Kronberg asked, he did not really appear very surprised that Rolf had suddenly changed his mind - it wasn't the first time the Hauptmann had modified his plans at the last minute. Rolf was already stuffing the crushed cap under his belt and he raised his eyebrows at Kronberg's question, as if the thought had not even really crossed his mind.

"Oh, sagen Sie ihm gerade, dass ich ihn später treffen werde. Ich kann besseren Gebrauch für meine Zeit finden als das Sitzen hier irgendwo," the Hauptmann scoffed and his gaze suddenly stopped at Feldwebel Schmitt. "So, es war gut, Sie, Feldwebel zu treffen. Ich werde Sie am Samstag sehen, nicht?" the man asked, allowing the young pilot another overly flashy grin, his eyes narrowing as he did so. Rolf slapped Schmitt on his shoulder in a manner that was supposed to be comradely, but might have ended up being more forceful than necessary. "So! Ich bin weg..." the Hauptmann turned around, muttering the last words almost absentmindedly, as if his thoughts were already on something else. As he headed towards his motorcycle, he suddenly veered around on the heels of his boots. "Ah, ja. Weggetreten, Feldwebel," the Hauptmann's hand visited on his brow very briefly, almost lazily and the next moment Rolf was already concentrating on putting on his leather jacket.

Pulling the jacket on, Rolf sat astride on the motorcycle and with a few kicks, the engine was brought to life, accompanied by loud rumbling and roaring that was sure to render the bystanders nearly deaf for a moment. Rolf regarded the Feldwebel once more under his brows and his silver eyes fixed on to the pilot for a brief moment, as if to make sure he would remember his youthful face later. Then the man almost gleefully pulled on the throttle of his motorcycle, a more content look crossing his face once again. As the shiny, black BMW R35 veered around the set of makeshift seats, the Hauptmann settled his boots on the footrests and breathed out deeply, his eyes half-closed, enjoying the wind on his face. The flame that had started to dangerously burn inside him felt lesser now, more manageable, soothed momentarily by the feeling of freedom, as artificial as it might have been. Maybe one day his lust to feed that flame would get the better of him and he would be consumed by it's hellish torrents whether he wanted to or not. But not now, not today.

There were still far too many glorious things for him to achieve.



Translations:

"Sehr gut, Schmitt, sehr gut! Es wird sein erfrischend, um jemanden neu zu haben, um mit zur Abwechselung zu sprechen."
"Very good, Schmitt, very good! It will be refreshing to have someone new to talk to for a change."

"Ich werde getan wartend, ich ausgehen mit Mitzi."
"I'm done waiting, I'm taking Mitzi out."

"Herr Hauptmann, was werde ich dem Leutnant erzählen?"
"Herr Hauptmann, what will I tell the Leutnant?"

"Oh, sagen Sie ihm gerade, dass ich ihn später treffen werde. Ich kann besseren Gebrauch für meine Zeit finden als das Sitzen hier irgendwo."
"Oh, just tell him I will meet him later. I can find better use for my time than sitting around here."

"So, es war gut, Sie, Feldwebel zu treffen. Ich werde Sie am Samstag sehen, nicht?"
"Well, it was good to meet you, Feldwebel. I'll see you on Saturday, right?"

"So! Ich bin weg... Ah, ja. Weggetreten, Feldwebel."
"Right! Then I'm off... Ah, yes. Dismissed, Feldwebel."

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post:

The following CP has been issued:

Jager - 8CP

Schmitt - 7CP

-JT