A Walking Mess...(Open to anyone)

[Wilhelm Schlegal]

Location: Berlin
Time: 10:00 PM
Weather: Heavy rain with thunder and lightning

It's been a brutal couple of weeks for the young Unterscharführer. Wilhelm walked along the sidewalk of a busy street, with German made cars whizzing by and pedestrians on their way home from work. He had a slight limp from the battle, but that was the least of his problems. He had failed the Fatherland, getting his men killed and some taken as prisoners. He and his comrade, Heiko Alkema, were also taken prisoner but were soon released. Wilhelm hasn't seen Heiko since.

Perhaps it was for the best Wilhelm didn't see Heiko after the release. He was probably more hurt than Wilhelm was for the deaths of his men because he knew them more than Wilhelm did. Thing is though, Wilhelm got them killed in a brutal fashion with the engineer's exploding flamethrower. Wilhelm was knocked out when the explosion hit, but before he passed out, he saw two of the Privates he was given command of being burnt to a crisp and their sheers of pain ripping through his ears. Those haunting images still haunted Wilhelm to this date. In the near future, he hoped, he would train harder and not make a mistake like he did that day.

What the Unterscharführer really needed, and wanted, was a beer. A nice, cold, German beer. There was a bar not too far from his current position, Bar des Onkels Piepers. It was a popular bar for having a good time, especially for soldiers returning from the front. Wilhelm wasn't looking for a good time, all he needed was to vent his depression on alcohol. Wilhelm walked into the bar, noticing all the young recruits fresh from the front and training, having a few good laughs and singing songs. He looked around, trying to find an area somewhat secluded from the others. There was a bar stool at the end of the bar. Wilhelm walked over and took a seat. He sat his rifle up next to him on his right side, that way his gun was close to the wall and nobody would try and steal it.

"Barmann," Schlegal called out, raising his arm in the air. The old bartender walked over to the side Schlegal was at and then stopped.

"Was ich kann, für Sie, Unterscharführer?" asked the bartender.

"Ein helles Leichtbier." said Schlegal, taking out a cigarette. The bartender nodded and went to go grab his drink as Schlegal lit his cig and took a few puffs. At times, the dangling lights would shake from the thunder, no one in the bar noticing the shakings.

Translations:

Barmann: Bartender

Was ich kann, für Sie, Unterscharführer?: What can I get for you, Sergeant?

Ein helles Leichtbier: One lager

[Franz Albrecht]

Berlin...

Francis "Frankie" Albrecht rushed down the sidewalk holding a Goebbels propaganda magazine above his head to keep the rain from soaking him completely. The Sturmscharfuhrer wore his new M36 Waffen SS NCO's dress uniform. The smooth grey surface of the gabardine wool was dotted with wet spots from the terrible weather of Berlin. On his left sleeve proudly he wore the cuff title of "Das Reich". The rain beat off the streets bouncing nearly a foot from the ground, thunder cracked somewhere off in the distance.

Frankie had just arrived in Berlin transferred from the replacement depot in Southern France where he had been waiting on a response from the 2nd SS panzer Division "Das Reich". Albrecht had put in a formal request to fight along side the division in any upcoming campaigns they entered, therefore joining the ranks. Frankie ran across the street nearly getting splashed by a passing automobile, he saw a crowd leaving an establishment that seemed to be quite busy, Bar des Onkels Piepers, he would shelter here from the rain getting a bite to eat while inside the building.

Albrecht entered the room removing his cap and gazed about. There was music, lots of conversation, the room was very well lit and gave kind of warm feeling upon entrance, also the smell of food!. There were many soldiers and officers in the company of beautiful Frauleins seated around or on them. Frankie did not know any of these people and felt somewhat lost so he decided to head down to the end of the bar where there was only one other man seated by himself. The Sturmscharfuhrer sat down on a stool opposite an SS Unterscharfuhrer who seemed to be somewhat in a daze, there was clearly something amiss with this gentleman. Frankie tossed the wet magazine on the bar, turned on his stool looking at the people inside, suddenly something caught his attention causing him to turn back towards the bar.

It was the thick smell of cigarette smoke that filled the air . Frankie had not had a smoke in hours, it had been a long train journey through Germany, he smoked his last one on the way from Magdeburg to the capital. The SS Unterscharfuhrer puffed away with a distant look in his eyes, it looked as if this happened to be one of the few things that gave him pleasure in these times or war.

"Barmann! Ein Weinbrand , danke" He said raising his hand in the air..

Albrecht cleared this throat trying to get the SS company leaders attention,

"Verzeihen Sie mir, but may i ask you for a cigarette Unterscharfuhrer?"

Frankie leaned forward resting his arms on the bar and gave a nod followed by a grin showing he was friendly.

Translations: Barmann, ein Weinbrand, danke
(Bartender, one brandy, thank you)
Verzeihen Sie mir
(Forgive me)

[Wilhelm Schlegal]

Smoking a cigarrette soothed Wilhelm's mood; it calmed him down. It let go of the battle and the stench of death, it let go of all the dead corpses, both American and German, that littered the sand. Wilhelm remembered the good memories of a child he had when he was just a young teen. The year was 1935, with Wilhelm playing kickball with his friends, Heinz and Franz Wagner. All the younger ones, like Eva, Erwin, and the two Wagner kids Elia and Rosa playing in the sandbox. It was one of those typical days in Munich, those glory days even though Germany was in Economic Decline, but that was changing quite fast witht the Nazi Party taking power. Twas a sunny day everytime the Schlegals and the Wagners would get together and reminise. Those were the glory days, those were the days.

"Verzeihen Sie mir, but may i ask you for a cigarette Unterscharfuhrer?" This just shattered the good old memories that Wilhelm remembered when he was a kid. Hearing another German soldiers voice, the voice with a calmer tone than most German soldiers, brought back the day when the Jews were being evicted from their homes in Munich. Sitting in his home, reading the latest political news and learning about the SS, Wilhelm heard a comotion outside. He put his paper down and walked over the window which overlooked the street. Looking out the window, he saw a truck stop in front of the Wagner house with SS men standing guard of the truck. Screams were heard in the Wagner household, followed by a loud bang. A gunshot? Wilhelm ran down the stairs and onto the street, standing in front of his house. His sister Eva and brother Erqin quickly followed, wanting to see what the comotion was.

"Eva, Erwin, gehen Sie zurück innen, gibt es nichts..." Wilhelm calmly said, but stopped in the middle of his sentence when he saw 4 SS troops escorting Mr. and Mrs. Wagner, along with Heinz, Elia, and Rosa, all in tears. One of the Senior SS troops smiled as he looked to the sky,smiled, and then back to one of his men.

"Ein weiteres glorreichen Tag zu beseitigen diese Jude Ratten aus fuher. Go get Stelle innerhalb und lädt es, bringen Sie den Rest an den Hauptsitz für die Verarbeitung." said the officer in a deep tone.

"Ja, Herr Abgeordneter!" said the young soldier. He ran inside with another soldier and then dragged out Franz' body. Wilhelm turned around and rushed his siblings inside. This wasn't the time nor the place for his youngest siblings to see this.

Snapping out of his memories due to the music playing and the cheers and jeers from the German troops. The bartender had already left the Lager in front of Wilhelm, who wasn't even paying attention. Wilhelm turned to the man who sat next to him and noticed he had asked for a cigarrette. Noticing the insignia on the Sturmscharführer, Wilhelm's eyes widened and he shot up with his right arm swing in the air, his fingers together. "Heil Hitler!". He wasn't going to get on any of his higher ups' bad side.

Sitting back down with some of the other patrons looking at him, Wilhelm nodded to them all and took out his box of cigs. He wasted no time giving the Sturmscharführer a cigarrette and a light. He took another puff from his cig and then a sip from his lager. "Wie sind Sie, Sir?" he said in a quiet tone.



Translations:
"Eva, Erwin, gehen Sie zurück innen, gibt es nichts..."-Eva, Erwin, go back inside, there is nothing to...

Ein weiteres glorreichen Tag zu beseitigen diese Jude Ratten aus fuher. Go get Stelle innerhalb und lädt es, bringen Sie den Rest an den Hauptsitz für die Verarbeitung.- Another glorious day to get rid of these Jew Rats for out Fuher. Go get that body inside and load it, bring the rest to Headquarters for processing.

Wie sind Sie, Sir?-How are you sir?

[Franz Albrecht]

It took a few moments for the Unterscharführer to respond. Frankie waited patiently then seen the soldiers eyes focus upon him, instantly the man shot out of his seat throwing up the Nazi salute "Heil Hitler!". he shouted. Albrecht raised his right hand swiftly returning the gesture while remaining seated, it was acceptable when he was the higher rank. Calmly he replied, "Heil Hitler".

Frankie felt people watching them from behind. He glanced over his shoulder to see three army Oberschütze's with a Obergefreiter who quickly turned their heads when they caught his glare. Frankie wasn't a fan of attention and disliked people looking at him. Being a member of the SS was a bonus, he had noticed people didn't really like to look at you. Maybe it was because of a certain fear factor? perhaps the reputation? what ever it was it worked out in his favour.

Albrecht remembered when he was attached to the SS-Totenkopfverbände during 39', 40' in Poland. Everyone in the country knew the units purpose therefore having a reason to fear them. The SS overall didn't deserve this reputation, allot of good men that served in it's ranks were often caught up in the 'mix' so to say. Frankie had been one of them himself.

The young man often wondered what he would tell his parents when he arrived home after the war, if he could ever tell them about the things he was ordered to do. Francis Albrecht was raised in a religious family and knew that one day he would answer to god for all of the sins committed. He wouldn't need to gather the courage to tell him anything, as he had already seen it. The only thing frank would tell the lord is that he was truly sorry for what he and his people had done.



Sturmscharfuhrer Albrecht took a drink, set it on the bar then received the Unterscharfuhrer's lighter and a cigarette he had given him, Danke,. Frankie lit the smoke, returned the lighter with a nod while he inhaled...

Wie sind Sie, Sir? Said the soldier in a quiet voice...

Albrecht replied, "Alle ist gut Unterscharfuhrer, enjoying this cigarette you have given me. Thank you very much, and..the formalities are not necessary with me in this environment. Speak freely with me as I will with you, Verstehen?

He took another drink, " In exchange for the smoke, let me buy you one of what you are having, I insist."

Translations:

Alle ist gut= All is good
Verstehen= Understand

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post:

The following CP has been issued:

Schlegal - 4

Albrect - 4

-JT