Shop is open! (JT)

[Amanda Knight]

The Bloch’s shop was open for business after a week of not being open due to the hard weather, the weather hadn’t been great for a long time, snow had been falling for days, covering the pavements and snow, some people had even been snowed in, the poorer people of Amsterdam had had a hard time these last few days, the Nazis hadn’t helped much at all. They had just patrolled the streets, staring down at everyone as if they were dirt on their shoe…bastards.

Peter Bloch stood behind the counter, reading the morning paper, the Nazis had over taken the newspaper agencies so the whole paper was filled with “Hitler is great” and “British will die” well, not exactly, that was how Peter interpreted it anyway. He wore faded brown trousers that looked years old, his shoes were polished, his shirt was a white one, over the top was a blue jersey that looked years old as well, his brown hair was rather scruffy looking, his eyes tired, scanning the paper.

The sound of the bell in the shop aroused him from his half day dream, half reading the paper mode and he looked up, a woman came in, she was one of the few Jewish people left in the city, ”Mevr. van Pells, goedemorgen, hoe is vandaag u?” He smiled at the woman, she didn’t look well, her face was riddled with lines of tiredness, her clothes looked respectable enough, but that horrid yellow star stuck out like a sore thumb on her coat. She gave him a weak smile and replied back, she told him she was fine, doing alright but life would never be the same she feared.

”Wat zou u willen vandaag kopen?” he asked in Dutch, she asked for a loaf of bread and some Jam. He nodded and came out from behind the counter, going over to get a loaf of their finest bread and jam. He came back and handed her the loaf and jam. He glanced around and then lent forwards, ”I' ll geef u een korting voor dit…” he muttered, looking at her sternly, she smiled at him gratefully and nodded, thanking him, giving him the money and then began to leave the shop. Peter watched as she went, smiling slightly, turning back to his paper.

He heard a small muffled scream from below him and froze, quickly going out the back to the cellar; he opened the wooden door and climbed in. The cellar wasn’t big at all, he made his way down the steps and saw three figures, one sitting down on a sofa, head in hands, the other adult figure, a woman was trying to calm the third figure, a child who was screaming her head off.

”Zult u stil zijn! De moeder en de vader zijn uit en de winkel is open! Als een Nazi u toen hoort konden wij allen zijn ontsproten!” he hissed at the wife and child, this family was the Jewish family who they were looking after, hiding them, the Polshes they were called. The mother gave Peter a look and he retreated upstairs, the little girl had shut up by now thank the lord.
He came back to the front of the house and heard the bell ring again, another customer…that girl better not shout for the next few minutes.

Translations:

Mevr. van Pells, goedemorgen, hoe is vandaag u? – Miss van Pells, good morning, how are you today?

”Wat zou u willen vandaag kopen?” – What would you like to buy today?


”I' ll geef u een korting voor dit…” – I’ll give you a discount for this

”Zult u stil zijn! De moeder en de vader zijn uit en de winkel is open! Als een Nazi u toen hoort konden wij allen zijn ontsproten!” – Please be quiet! Mother and the father are out and the shop is open! If a Nazi hears you then we could all be shot!

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

McMillan strolled along, dragging on the hand rolled cigarette, it had been a while since he had a real one, but these were making due nicely. His men had been run into the ground and were just passing through, they hadn't had a decent meal in over a week, living on scraps and whatever they could barter for, but they were almost at the breaking point. McMillan had tried his best to instill a good set of morals to his men, they were here for the war, if Hitler wanted to make it a race issue it was his business, but they would not partake in such drivel things. Once or twice Ed had to go a little beyond the books to make sure his men styed in line, but it never went too far. They looked up to him and somewhat feared him, but he had earned their respect and McMillan hoped they remebered it.

The only sound loud enough to drown out the rumbling bellowing from their abdomens was that of the left over snow, sloshing around under their feet. The looks they received from almost every face was helping the problems either. McMillan was trying to get them away from the public eye as much as he could, but he knew they needed food or it would all go to hell really quick. There was a small shop on the left hand side of the street ahead, McMillan knew the owner, good man, but as they rounded the corner McMillan could see the bright yellow star of the lady exiting, just 30 meters down the road, "Ahhhh...son of a...!" he yelled out as he knelt quickly and grabbed his ankle, luckily it drew the attention of his men before they could see what he saw. He was in no way injured, but he would rather fake his own than to have his men lose it here and now. They walked over to him, but he merely waved them off, and limped on, as he looked ahead he could no longer see the lady, and he hoped that everyone was smart enough to keep the ngith sky at bay.

One of his Sergeants held the door for him as he pulled himself in and took a gentle seat in the first chair he could. He looked up as he heard his man ring the bell and then started to look to his leg once more, but did a double take as he saw the boy come behind the counter, it wasn't the man he remembered. "Wo ist der Eigentümer? Ich kenne ihn." McMillan spoke as he sat up straight in the chair, wondering if something had happened.

Translations:
Wo ist der Eigentümer? Ich kenne ihn.
Where is the owner? I know him.

[Amanda Knight]

The bell had rung again, someone wanted accidence. Peter came around the corner to see two men, both in army uniforms. One standing at the counter, the other sitting on a chair looking at his foot for some reason, maybe he was injured…Peter frankly didn’t care, he didn’t care if this man was injured in any shape or form, he was a Nazi and Nazis were bad.

The man sitting down started when he saw Peter and asked him where the owner of the shop was, and that the Nazi knew Peter’s father. Peter glanced at the other man and then back at the first who had spoken. ”Er ist heraus geehrter Herr, ich ist sein Sohn,” he said bluntly, opening the record book and quickly scribbled down what the Jewish lady had brought and then glanced back up at the first man, shutting the book quickly, he face held a slight hint of fear as he stood, legs shaking. That girl better not shout…if she did….oh god…why did these Nazis have to come into his shop? Why? He frowned and looked down at the wooden counter, not daring to speak in case he said something stupid. He ran a hand through his brown hair, biting his nails.

He suddenly had a sudden jolt of panic as he heard the muffling of the girl’s scream once again, he began to cough violently, trying to cover up the noise, he was starting to get really scared, he couldn’t go back down there now what with these men here, he would have to stay put and just be as quick as possible in asking what the men wanted.

”Was wurden Sie mögen Herren?” he asked, after he had stopped coughing, averting his gaze to the window and out into the street, the Jewish woman had disappeared thank the lord.

Translations –

Er ist heraus geehrter Herr, ich ist sein Sohn – He is out sir, I am his son.


Was wurden Sie mögen Herren?
- What would you like sirs?

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

McMillan nodded slightly as the lad spoke of his father, the owner, and then looked back to his ankle, tightening his laces for "support", he would only need to fake it for a bit, his men would forget it happened once they had something to eat. Two of his men remained outside by the door, while the other two came in to join McMillan and his Sergeant, there wasn't a lot of space, but they hadn't taken it all up just yet. McMillan looked out onto the street as he heard a quiet smack, the man on the left side of the door had taken it upon himself to antagonize the locals, McMillan had to play his injury and he knew that his Sergeant had most of the same views that Edward did as well, so with a subtle "Unterscharführer." and a nod of the head, Hueber stepped out and whispered in the man's ear with a firm grip of his shoulder, there was a direct nod and the matter was over.

Suddenly the boy seemed to go into a coughing fit, McMillan looked on puzzled, seemed to just come out of the blue, but he seemed ok after a few seconds and asked what they needed. "Wir haben viel nicht, mit zu tauschen, aber wir werden Sie geben was wir können für die Speise Sie können verschonen uns." McMillan said gently, he knew they were an unliked bunch of guys, but he tried his best to change a few minds, the numerous zealots that served in the same uniform he wore never made it easy, but friends were better than enemies any day.

He stood up with a slight grunt and hobbled over to the counter, the boy seemed a bit off, but McMillan shook the thought away as he pulled a small sack from his gear. He poured out the small amount of contents on the counter to show the boy they weren't here to steal, they just needed enough to get them back to the outpost another seven hours walk down the road. He moved the contents around with his fingers so that everything could be seen. There was a nice pocket watch, only a few scratches, it belonged to one of McMillan's Sergeants before he caught two in the chest, a small pocket knife that belonged to the same soul, and a half smoked pack of American cigarettes, McMillan had been holding those for sentimental reasons, but this was not the time to go soft. There were also a few coins, from various countries in involved in this horrible war, maybe they were still worth something.




Translations:
Wir haben viel nicht, mit zu tauschen, aber wir werden Sie geben was wir können für die Speise Sie können verschonen uns.
We don't have much to barter with, but we will give you what we can for the food you can spare us.

[Amanda Knight]

Peter noticed that the man was looking at his ankle a bit, he had tightened it up for a support or seemed to have tried to do that at least. ”Ist Ihr Knöchel gut Sir?” he asked, pointing to the man’s ankle, frowning. His head shot up as he heard a scuffle outside as his head turned to the window, seeing a man smack one of the locals, the boy’s face turned to anger suddenly and his eyes flashed as he glanced at the “leader” of the group to see what he would do, he better do something about this…ah…good he was. Outside turned to normal again as the matter was dealt with.

After Peter’s pathetic coughing fit, he continued looking around, seeing the face of the leader looking at him, puzzled like. Instead the voice that came out was now softer and gentler than it had been, Peter was expecting to be questioned about the coughing fit, but no, the man wanted food for his other men, oh…
Peter started to back away as the man hobbled over, watching him carefully, terrified that now the man was nearer to the cellar he may hear the child scream again…please don’t…the man pulled out a sack and Peter came closer, staring at the contents with sudden interest.

Wow, there was a pocket watch, a pocket knife and a half smoked packet of…American cigarettes!…now those were cool, and a few foreign coins also in the mix. Peter was more interested in the cigarettes, they were foreign and were once held in the hand of an Allied soldier most likely, wow…he picked them up and turned them in his grubby hands, looking at the detail that was all in English, trying to read it but he couldn’t. He set them down and then picked up the watch and knife, those were pretty cool as well but would his father if he was here give the man money? If this soldier said he was a friend of his father then yes.

Peter glanced up now and again as he studied the things that the soldier had given, he looked over at the coins, and they were pretty cool as well. Peter was now thinking in his head quickly about what he could do with all the items that were now with in reach…he could give the watch and knife to the Polshes down stairs, the cigarettes he would keep for himself and maybe give to his friends…and the coins….they weren’t really needed.

He kept hold of the cigarettes, the knife and the watch and pushed the coins roughly back at the man, pocketing the contents he had kept and then opened the book which kept the orders.

”Welche Nahrung wurden Sie mögen?” he asked, staring at the man and suddenly heard a crash from below, he leaned away from the soldier and quickly went to the back door of the shop, terror rushing through him as he heard the sounds of yet another scuffle from the cellar…he came back, his face trying to stay calm and composed as he awaited the man’s answer.


Translations:

Ist Ihr Knöchel gut Sir? – Is your ankle alright sir?

Welche Nahrung wurden Sie mögen? – What food would you like?

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

McMillan looked on as the boy seemed almost excited by the contents of the bag. Thank God... he thought ...maybe we can eat now. He leaned on the counter to lessen the "strain" of his ankle and looked about behind the counter to see what all they had to offer. There was more than enough to feed four men, but McMillan would only ask for what he thought fair for the trade, if it meant he didn't eat then so be it, if worse came to worst there was a dead cow down the road a peice, still fresh thankfully, they could build a fire and roast it, but he wanted to avoid that at all costs, the chances of desease were through the proverbial roof.

McMillan cleared his throat as he thought of what they could get, looked was surprised when the lad push the coins back over, he just scppoed them up and stuffed them into his shirt pocket. "Gut ein Laib von Bro..." the sudden noise stopped him in the middle of his request. The boy went to the rear door, McMillan just held his hand behind him open and palm facing his Sergeant, he could hear the man start to walk that way but knew that whatever it was was none of their concern. They needed food, not a headache, but McMillan also knew that too much of that and the two outside would beat them around the back of the shop. He had to be as brief as possible.

The boy returned abruptly, he seemed a bit skidish but not alarmed enough to abandon the trade. "Gut ein Laib von Brot und ein Fleischfetzen wäre groß, wenn Sie eine Kartoffel ebenso wir verschonen könnten, wären in Ihrer Schuld." McMillan said, this time able to get the whole bit out. he wished he could have given the boy his lighter for the cigarettes as they seemed to interest him the most, but the only way he would give that up is if he were dead, he would starve before he gave that possession up. It was a gift, from a great leader, and McMillan hoped he would never see the man again, for both of thier sakes.

With a quick hand gesture over his back, in a balled fist, his Sergeant stepped outside once more to retreive the spare pack from one of their dead brethren, still sploched with blood. They were unaware that a stray bullet had more or less cut through the top of one of the straps and with a slight tug the pack flipped on it's side when the strap finally gave way, spilling the gear inside onto the sidewalk. Oh Jeez! I just wanna get this done with and be gone before you lot do something stupid. MCMillan motioned hurredly for the soldier to pick it up.



Translations:
Gut ein Laib von Brot und ein Fleischfetzen wäre groß, wenn Sie eine Kartoffel ebenso wir verschonen könnten, wären in Ihrer Schuld.
Well a loaf of bread and some meat scraps would be great, if you could spare a potato as well we would be in your debt.

[Amanda Knight]

Peter glanced up as the man lent on the counter and stepped slightly back, not wanting to get too close to the Nazi just in case he caught some odd Nazi disease that was rumoured. The rumour had it that all Nazis had this disease and if you were touched by one then you would get the disease as well. Peter believed the rumour even though his parents didn’t.

Peter nodded as he went around the counter and over to where the loaves of bread were, sitting in neat rows on a shelf. He took one off and came back, putting it on the counter then went round for the meat scraps, placing them on the counter also, he did this without looking at the Nazi, keeping a distance from him. Finally he took a potato off the shelves and came back, putting that on the table also.
Peter’s eyes wandered around, frowning as he looked outside, seeing some gear spilling out on to the pavement outside. Peter tried not to laugh as his head bowed to hide his smirk at what had just happened…stupid men.

”Dort gehen Sie,” he finally said, when the leader looked round at him again, he pointed at the pile of items on the counter now and watched the man, ”Diese Nahrung sollte Sie halten zu gehen,” he added, his hands gripping the counter, wanting them to leave and then he would go and shout at the family in the cellar to tell them to shut up even more because they could be heard…and then, yet again, there was a scream, this time the scream was louder and recognisable as a child’s scream coming from somewhere.
Peter’s blood ran cold, he tapped his nails on the counter, awaiting for the man to take the things and leave…if he hadn’t heard the scream that was…

Translations:

Dort gehen Sie - There you go
Diese Nahrung sollte Sie halten zu gehen - This food should keep you going

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

McMillan nodded generously as the boy placed all the food on the counter, his mouth started to water. The boy seemed odd but the food kept the thoughts away. McMillan looked out as his men tidied up the spilled gear and finally his Sergeant came in and his eyes almost popped out of his skull when he saw what McMillan had bartered for. The Sergeant tore off the end of the loaf of bread and stuffed what he could of it in his mouth, partially still hanging out. He open the pack and held it against the couter top, scooping the food inside, and he started to close it up when he too heard the child. McMillan could hear it as well, and the men outside came in looking at McMillan. They had looks of confusion smeared across their faces and McMillan just shook his head.

The Sergeant handed them the pack and the smell of food drifted from it as the pulled the top open. But one of the men didn't seem to care, the noises were loud enough to keep his attention. He started to walk to the back door but McMillan grabbed his arm. "Dieser Junge hat uns, kein Bedürfnis geholfen, ihn irgendeine Schwierigkeit zu verursachen." McMillan said in a low tone of voice, gripping tha man's arm tightly, but a quick yank and a stern look and the private showed his disgust toward McMillan, and continued for the back door, mistake number one.

With a quick jerk McMillan removed his helmet as it had not been fastened under his chin and hurled it at the private. The man's shoulders hunched up as he turned quickly and darted for McMillan, mistake number two. He leapt from his feet at his superior but he didn't land as expected, instead of grabbing uniform he only found the floor, face first. McMillan had grabbed his outstretched arms and stepped aside, taking the man's arms with him so he had nothing to break his fall. The Sergeant and the other private were too busy constructing a nice sandwich to care. The injured man rolled over quickly to see McMillan starring down at him with a stern gaze, he spat at McMillan's boots, mistake number three, this man was out. As he tried to get to his feet and in the process was met with a boot in his chest and a bulky man leaning down on it when they combination pinned him to the floor. "Aussehen, Sie dürfen meine Entscheidungen, Sie auch nicht dürfen mögen mich nicht mögen, aber Sie werden diesen Rang achten oder, den ich zu embarass Sie vor wem fortsetzen werde, ist anwesend, bis ich genug Grund habe, Sie zu haben, haben geschossen, MACHT SIE MICH PRIVAT VERSTEHEN!!!"



Translations:
Dieser Junge hat uns, kein Bedürfnis geholfen, ihn irgendeine Schwierigkeit zu verursachen.
This boy has helped us, no need to cause him any trouble.

Aussehen, Sie dürfen meine Entscheidungen, Sie auch nicht dürfen mögen mich nicht mögen, aber Sie werden diesen Rang achten oder, den ich zu embarass Sie vor wem fortsetzen werde, ist anwesend, bis ich genug Grund habe, Sie zu haben, haben geschossen, MACHT SIE MICH PRIVAT VERSTEHEN!!!
Look, you may not like my decisions, you may not even like me, but you will respect this rank or I will continue to embarass you in front of whoever is present, until I have enough reason to have you shot, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME PRIVATE!!!

[Amanda Knight]

Peter panicked, being to cough as he saw the confused looks on the men’s’ faces, bloody hell why was he the one in the shop? Why couldn’t it be his father or mother manning the shop today not him? Peter stopped coughing and watched with slight disgust on his face as he saw how the Sergeant ate the food…did the man have no manners or was he that hungry?

Peter saw that the man was walking towards the door and Peter made his way over to the counter, blocking the man in his tracks, the man sneered at him but the leader had grabbed his arm. Peter couldn’t quiet hear what they were saying so he just stood there, a slight terrified look on his face. But the man still made his way towards the door, Peter was really actually quiet terrified, not wanting them to find the family beneath their feet. But the leader seemed to sort things out and soon a small struggle developed between the group of men. Peter glanced over to the other little clump of people who were not paying any attention, more interested in making a sandwich then seeing the struggle in front of them.

The injured man looked awful; he looked rather embarrassed, well who wouldn’t be? The leader was shouting words at him and Peter just stood there.

The boy glanced towards the window, seeing a few citizens looking through in slight confusion. Peter passed the two on the floor and lent against the door way, staring at the civilians who looked at him, questions in their eyes. ”Ga weg!” Peter shouted in Dutch at the group who soon went away as quickly as they had come.

Peter glanced back into the inside of the shop, watching, waiting, holding his breath.

Translations

GO AWAY

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

McMillan glared at the man he was holding down with disgust. He would have none of this racist crap under his command. He was here to win a war, he was no judge or jury, if you came to fight he would assume the role of executioner, but that was it as the way of judgment. He stood straight and yanked the man from the floor who quietly wiped the blood from his mouth while giving a look of hatred toward McMillan, then it turned toward the shop keep. McMillan moved to cut the man's gaze off, he wasn't having any of it. The soldier walked out side and snatched a handful of food before he walked on down the street.

McMillan wiped himself off and straightened his uniform...well what was left of it, tattered and torn all over...combat had a way of doing that. He looked around the shop to make sure it was left the way it was found. He straightened a chair and turned to the boy. A solid look and a nod should have been enough for the boy to know that he was lucky this time, but there were never any guarantees for the next time. Edward stepped out into the street and motioned for his men to press on, they had ground to cover before the sun set if they wanted to get back as desired. They regrouped and pressed on. Before McMillan was out of sight he looked to the boy once more and smiled...he almost reminded Edward of a long lost friend...a long lost dear friend.

[Daniel Brennan]

Mod Post]/b]

CP:
Edward "Nice guy" McMillan: 10CP

Peter Bloch: 10CP


~Dan