Know Thine Enemy...[Claude]

[Nicholas Ealing]

Nicholas had never felt so calm. It was a calmness that came from knowing you had everything to gain and nothing to lose. Apart from his life, of course. But then, he had never felt more certain that he would survive. Survival of the fittest. And there was no doubt in Nicholas' mind that he was the fittest.

He had promises set in stone, promises that could not not be broken. Erhard Strumfelder must die, as must William Luther. That was all he cared about now; these two men haunted his dreams and swam in front of his eyes every time he tried to shake their unwanted spell from his memory. He had no idea of what they truly looked like, though, and so to him, they always appeared as hooded creatures, their eyes hidden by the blackness that seemed to follow them around where ever they went.

Nicholas planned on bleaching them with light, killing the darkness. And killing them in the process. He would find out who they were - what they were - and...well...he hadn't got that far yet. All he knew was that the horizon of these soldiers' lives was in view. He grimaced. He couldn't really call them soldiers. He couldn't call them anything that suggested that they were even human.

They had killed his nephew on the Isle of Jersey, alongside one hundred other innocent boys. Maybe they were proving a point, maybe they were doing it for fun, maybe they had no choice in the matter. Nicholas didn't care. He just wanted them dead.

And there was a man who could help him.

From the hours of research he had conducted, Nicholas had concluded that Strumfelder was the biggest threat. A brutal man, intelligent, manipulative, psychotic and evil; the man was completely without conscience or mercy. Luther would have to be dealt with as well, of course, but he was less dangerous than the doctor, certainly. He was a bastard as well of course, but he lacked Strumfelder's intelligence.

No, Luther would have to wait. Strumfelder, however, was in his crosshairs.

The Lieutenant had learned of the new arrival to the division, Corporal Josef Claude a few days back but had not found a chance to meet up with him until now. He had been captured by Strumfelder but, unlike most men unlucky enough to fall into the claws of the monster, he had...escaped. The perfect ally, Nicholas thought to himself; a man who hated Strumfelder even more than he did.

The day was unusually bright and Nicholas was glad that the torrential downpour of the previous night had at last drawn to a standstill. He sat down gently on an old bench and waited for the corporal to arrive. He had sent him a letter requesting him to meet him at the Track N'Field and he hoped he would oblige. Nicholas hadn't told him of the ulterior motive of the meeting of course; he had kept him deliberately in the dark about that.

Nicholas glanced back and noticed a small, slightly scratched golden plaque on the back of the bench. Dedicated to Edward McMillan. Nicholas sighed. A man's legacy boiled down to a cheap piece of writing on the back of what was essentially a park bench. The Lieutenant vowed that he would never end up like that. Unless, of course, he died fighting and killing Erhard Strumfelder. In which case, he would be the happiest corpse in the world...

[Cpl. Joe Claude]

The day was indeed bright and sunny; the sun was high in the sky lighting up the earth. He, Joe, had been back in England for a week, he had been in a hospital in France for a little while, but that hadn’t gone too well, he and Daniel Brennan and a little German girl and of course many others had all been nearly and some unfortunately…blown up, Daniel was still recovering somewhere in Europe, Joe wasn’t too sure of where it was. The little German girl, Joe hadn’t seen since he had met her on one of his walk abouts before coming back to England, he had taken a liking to her, but that liking had now disappeared as he thought that she would be all safe with her parents or whoever she lived with, it was only another child after all, there were plenty around.

He had just been let out of the Allied hospital at the base, his broken toes and nails were healing slowly and the bullet wound had almost gone, the doctors said that he would be able to see service again if he wanted to and Joe had said that he indeed did want to see action again even if he did have to walk around with horrific scars on his face and see people talk quietly behind their hands about him, always asking the same question..Where did he get those scars? Joe had thought about it, how to explain to someone what had happened to him? He had settled on the idea that he would tell it to the people who asked straight, no lying, if they asked then they would get the whole story end of.

A letter had come from one of his COs, a Lt Nicholas Ealing, the man had asked if he would come to the track and field, the letter had not said anything about why and what they would be talking about so by now, Joe was making his way towards the track and field. There was no one else on the field apart from someone, who Joe thought must be the Lieutenant, sitting on a bench, that bench apparently was called “THE EDWARD MCMILLAN” bench, apparently some poor guy had been killed that everyone had liked.

Joe came closer and indeed saw that it was Nicholas Ealing. Joe smiled as he stood by the bench, his eyes scanning the man. ”Lieutenant.” he gave a salute, ”My name is Corporal Joe Claude, I believe you wished to see me.” his scars were easily seen on his face, they caught the sun and made them look either more horrific.

[Nicholas Ealing]

Nicholas rose to his feet as the corporal approached and visibly recoiled as he saw the scars etched into the man's young face. Strumfelder's work, of course. The man obviously had cause to hate the doctor; a valuable ally, perhaps.

"Please, sit down," said Nicholas hurriedly, gesturing for Claude to take a seat next to him on the old bench. "I was anxcious to talk to you, actually, corporal and, well...I thought that perhaps an informal chat should be on the agenda. So...I chose out here," he waved his hand airily, cutting through the gentle Easterly breeze. America was refreshingly warm. Compared to mainland Belgium anyway.

He wasn't entirely sure how to begin his questioning and so he sat in silence for a few seconds. The Lieutenant opened his mouth to say something but no sound came out; inside, he was fuming. He had waited days to approach Claude about Strumfelder but now...now he could barely get a word in edgeways.

Nicholas decided swiftly that beginning with small talk - casual conversation and the like - would be a fairly good way to initiate Claude into talking. Ease him into the process, make him feel comfortable. And then...ask him about the man he hated more than anyone else in the world. Acknowledging the corporal's disfigured face, Nicholas could understand why.

"The Captain tells me that you come from the 49th ID," said Nicholas vaguely, attempting a wan smile. "A friend of mine is an NCO there; perhaps you know David Bevan?"

[Cpl. Joe Claude]

The man had risen to his feet; this gave Joe a sort of nice feeling towards the man, a proper gentleman, Joe seemed to like him already. He thought he saw the man wince slightly as he approached him but shrugged it off; he had gotten use to it by now.

Joe took a seat beside Nicholas, giving him a small smile. ”That’s fine.” Joe said rather flatly, glancing around at the track, the Easterly breeze was slightly refreshing. They sat in silence and Joe felt rather awkward, staring into the space, thinking of what the man wanted to talk to him about and why be it informal? He had never met this Lieutenant in his life.

Joe glanced over to see the man just shut his mouth, then he started to talk small talk like. ”Yes, I am.” he nodded, indeed he had been from the 40th ID, he hadn’t enjoyed it, he had been sent out into France with that company and look what had become of him. ”David Bevan…I’ve heard of him and seen him a couple of times, never spoke to him properly, he seems a nice chap sir yes.” he nodded, remembering the man’s face.

The two sat in silence for a few more seconds and then Joe opened his mouth, beginning to speak. ”So Lieutenant sir, what are we out here to talk about? Is it about what happened over in Germany? Erhard Strumfelder I believe was the man who did this to me.” he said the name with loathing as he gestured to his face.

[Nicholas Ealing]

Nicholas grimaced. Claude had clearly seen through his blank attempt at small talk. He sighed and ran a hand through his unkept hair, unusually long for an officer. The corporal was smart, it seemed.

"Yes," he said mechanically, turning to glance at the American. "Erhard Strumfelder." He swallowed. "What would you say, Corporal, if I told you that a young British boy, nine years old, went on holiday to Jersey Island, just off the coast of France? What if I told you that the Germans landed that day? What if I told you that that little boy was killed, just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time? What if I told you that it was Erhard Strumfelder who killed him, or at least ordered for the act to be done. And what if I told you that that little boy...was my nephew?"

Nicholas' bloodshot eyes widened; he could feel rebellious tears pricking at his eyeballs. He forced himself not to cry in front of the young man; it would hardly be good for discipline if the men saw their commander crying his eyes out like a schoolgirl.

"I have been trying to track down everybody who has any information on Strumfelder - or his little whore of a crony, William Luther - and it led me to you. Next on the list is a German Captain whom I captured some time ago and David Bevan himself, whose brother Luther killed. But you, Josef, you are top of the list. You were captured by Strumfelder...but you escaped." He breathed deeply. "Tell me everything you know."

[Cpl. Joe Claude]

Joe sat there, waiting for Nicholas to start talking; he noticed how the man’s hair was indeed unusually long for an officer, odd really. He saw most men with very short hair, short, back and sides sort of type. But Joe didn’t dwell on that sort of thing, he wanted to know what Nicholas was on about and it did seem that it was about Strumfelder.

The, story the commander now told, was rather horrible, a little boy on holiday, nine years old and was killed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, it did sound like Strumfelder’s work. The poor man, the little boy had been his nephew…how awful. The man looked like he was about to cry and Joe looked away to make him feel less awkward. ”That sounds like Strumfelder’s work to me.” he muttered quietly.

Joe has thought that this sort of conversation would happen after a while; they wanted to know what had happened to him by the sounds of things. Joe sat in silence for a few seconds and then opened his mouth. He turned to stare out at the field, remembering everything as if it was yesterday. ”I was captured in France on a patrol, can’t remember much of it, passed out I think sir.” he paused, ”Taken to some kind of hospital in Germany, in a room on my own. My leg had a bullet in it and the German doctors were fixing me up which was nice of them I suppose.” he shrugged, ”Strumfelder came in, told me he knew who I was, where I was born, I’m German decent sir you see, grew up there, I’m Jewish sir, and what Strumfelder told me, they don’t like Jews…I knew that of course, my family moved out of Germany after the Great War because of the sudden hatred for Jews even back them…anyway, he just kept questioning me, I kept being smart, not letting him into anything until he got his knife out from his medical bag…” the last part of the speech, his voice cracked. He gritted his teeth and clasped his hands together as if the memory was too painful. ”Cut into my face as if I was a slice of bread, no morphine, nothing…he left the room after I had given him enough information…I know I shouldn’t have sir, but I wanted the pain to stop…he went out, shot a doctor who was questioning the screaming that I was making, came back in, cut those two lines.” he pointed to his forehead, ”They sewed them up, again with no morphine…I’ve never felt so much pain in my life…little did I know that the pain would be worst two days later.”

He stopped, and waited a minute for all of that to sink in and then continued, it was the first time he had been able to tell someone else about his ordeal. ”Took me to a cell, Strumfelder, this guy called Jonson and another…Vlakte…yet another interrogation, tired me to a table this time, I wouldn’t answer any of the questions you see. Strumfelder used this tool to break three of my toes, I was screaming in pain sir, I couldn’t do anything, I had to tell them…I…I…” tears sprung to his eyes and he looked at the grass, ”Strumfelder ordered his men to tie me to the ceiling by my wrists, started hitting me with this baton, took my shirt off you see, I still have the scars…” he paused, ”Then he shot me in the stomach, I think he wanted to kill me, but something in his eyes as I stared at him, something flickered and he didn’t…Vlakte rescued me, something had changed in side him and he realized that the Germans weren’t the men to be with…that’s it sir…that’s what happened, I didn’t find out anything about what the Germans were doing…that’s all I know.” he glanced over at Nicholas, ”I didn’t mean to drag on sir but…I haven’t told anyone else since it all happened…”

[Nicholas Ealing]

Nicholas listened intently as the Corporal told him of his fate at the hands of Strumfelder. Even as he spoke, Nicholas could feel his heart beating harder than ever within his ribcage. He had often felt sorry for the enemy; he had thought them brainwashed to follow the evil machinations of the bastard Hitler, he had thought that perhaps they had even been forced to fight under him. But this man...this...this bastard. He actually seemed to enjoy causing pain. God would surely thank him for sending the monster down to the fires of Hell. No one would grieve for him, that much was certain. Nicholas vowed never to feel anything but unbridled hatred towards the enemy; no mercy. None at all. Mercy equalled weakness. And if he wanted to beat Strumfelder at his own game, then he wouldn't be able to afford being weak.

"Pull yourself together, Corporal," said the Lieutenant gently, when the man had finished speaking. "I promise you, one day, I will kill the man who did this to you. But I'm going to need your help. Did you learn anything - anything - about him? You must have heard something. Tell me everything. What does he look like? How old is he? His accent - where does he come from? Is there anyone close to him? A wife? A child? A friend? Tell me!" Nicholas suddenly noticed that he had raised his voice. He lowered his tones. "I apologise, Corporal. But it is imperative that I know who I am dealing with. And, let it be known, if I ever take him prisoner, I'll leave him to you."

Nicholas finished grimly and waited for the Corporal to answer. He checked his watch; he couldn't afford to waste time. Every second that he wasted, every milisecond, Strumfelder was still alive in this world. And he was still hurting people.

[Cpl. Joe Claude]

Joe looked up at the Lieutenant as he spoke softly, ”Sorry sir.” he muttered, rubbing his nose as he felt it begin to run. He thought hard, trying to think what Strumfelder had said to him, he closed his eyes, feeling Nicholas’s voice getting louder and louder. ”I’m thinking sir…” Joe began to say but Nicholas cut him off, saying he was sorry but he obviously wanted to know. ”I’d like that.” Joe added as Nicholas spoke about if Strumfelder getting captured, Joe could go and torture him and then kill him…that would be nice. Strumfelder could feel pain like Joe had done.

He opened his eyes and looked over at Nicholas, ”He studied medicine at Cambridge, he is a medical officer…” he paused, trying to collect his thoughts, ”As I said before, it was more him asking me questions…umm…” he paused again, trying to think. ”I’m sure he said more…I just have to remember it.” he racked his brain, thinking…”He’s good with medicines, I mean…he knows a lot about them…” he glanced back out into the field, watching the birds fly above them.

”No, I don’t think he is married or has children, his accent…it’s German in origin but has an English hint to it, he speaks English fluently, and what he looks like…you’d be able to spot him anywhere Lieutenant sir. He has an eye patch over his left eye, a scar down the left side of his face. He walks with a very bad limp, his face is basically a mangled mess.” Joe gave a slight smirk at this, ”Not sure about his age…I’d say early 40s or so.”

[Nicholas Ealing]

Nicholas' headsnapped up as the Corporal answered his frantic questioning. Cambridge University? He had studied medicine at bloody Cambridge. Nicholas had attended Oxford himself but an uncle of his - Nicholas winced as he remembered that he was young Robin's grandfather - worked there in some managerial capacity. He had worked there for as long as the Lieutenant could remember - perhaps he had even met the disfigured man. How strange to think of evil bastard of such magnitude as Erhard Strumfelder as a young man. Perhaps he had been a sprightly student, a student with dreams and ambition. And now...now look at him. A man who had studied medicine so that he could help people and make the pain fade away was now the bringer of agony. A servant of Satan, Nicholas told himself. A servant who would die. He would die hopeless, desperate and pathetic, no doubt how Robin had felt as he fell into the shadows. It was time for revenge.

"I can't thank you enough for this information, Corporal Claude," said Nicholas, genuinely smiling for what felt like the first time in years. His uncle, Robert Kingsley, he would know everything. He would have access to the files of every student who passed the university's doors for decades; centuries even. He would certainly have information on the shady young German who had made himself known there all those years ago. The files would give the Lieutenant even more information than the Corporal had - where he had been born, his family, even his grades. They could all be at Nicholas' fingertips. And if he could pull a few strings, then there would be nothing to stop the Lieutenant from fullfilling his greatest ambition on this Earth.

He would live to regret crossing Nicholas Ealing.

The Lieutenant rose to his feet and saluted the Corporal with respect. He said his goodbyes, told him that he would very much like to speak with him again, and without looking back, was alone again, with only the whistling of the wind for company.

[Daniel Brennan]

Mod-Post[/b

CP:
Ealing: 7cp

Joe: 7CP


~Dan