Yet Another Day (Strum)

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Strumfelder hadn’t been given an order by a superior in months, and it didn’t feel right now. He looked at the Doctor who had stopped him from his fun, and felt anger rise inside himself momentarily. However, he did step back, placing his bloodied instruments onto the self where his cap sat, though as far away as possible. Vlakte began to scribe on his notepad, and Strumfelder used this momentary brief to stand alongside Jonsen by the door, who looked eager to speak. “Ich mag nicht dieses behandele Methoden,” he whispered. Strumfelder fought back a grin. “Ich muss mit Ihnen sein.” Jonsen gave Strumfelder a knowing look; they both understood each other. “Halten Sie sich - zurzeit zurück.”

Vlakte reeled off a list of demands. Strumfelder half hoped the American would resist. He was after all selling out his own friends lives. Strumfelder didn’t like Vlakte’s methods at all. They were far too… systematic. They acted as if the prisoner was an instrument which played one way, would give a certain tone. Strumfelder believed far more in using fear, treating them animals. If they feared you, you wouldn’t have to work at getting information. Just lift a blade and they would be talking. Vlakte didn’t seem to enjoy his work. It was a job, which put food on the table for him. For Strumfelder, there was something far more interesting and meaningful about creating pain.

Strumfelder neither liked how Vlakte gave orders and seemed to use him as one of his instruments. After all, this American was Strumfelder’s prisoner, and only lived as long as Strumfelder permitted it. He would be well in his rights just to draw his weapon and kill the pathetic animal on the table.

He had just shown a sign of weakness, calling Strumfelder off, and he felt as if Vlakte was degrading him. The American would not fear him as much if he saw Strumfelder to be this Doctors lap dog. He would do Vlakte whim only until he was happy with it, Vlakte might out rank him, but bullets do not distinguish between two men. And while Vlakte was on his own, Strumfelder had to men with him who would most likely follow his orders before this Doctor’s. Strumfelder hoped Vlakte would watch his step; it would be such a pity to kill a friend.

Translations:
“Ich mag nicht dieses behandele Methoden,”
~ I do not like this Doctor’s methods.

“Ich muss mit Ihnen sein.”
~ I must agree with you

“Halten Sie sich - zurzeit zurück.”
~ Restrain yourself - for the moment.

[Cpl. Joe Claude]

Strumfelder had kept going, breaking two other toes and removing the toenails like the first, Joe was withering in agony; he let out little yelps of pain as the toes throbbed like hell. The doctor’s voice was far off and sounded muffled, oh that was nice of him to just stop hurting him, bastard, bastard, bastard! The questioning started once more – "Josef, tell me exactly where the SAS Headquarters is located. I want to know your codename for the SAS and what special orders you were given before you were captured. If you lie to me, I will find out and the results will be far worse than the removal of your toenails. Give me the information and be civil with your tongue and you will have a painkiller when we are done as well as proper medical treatment. Tell me everything I want to know and you will never see me again."

Joe gritted his teeth in pain; he looked over at Strumfelder who was standing just out of the circle of light with the man who had had the metal knuckle contraction. The needles and tongs which were covered in blood had been placed on the shelf beside Strumfelder’s cap, they might be used again, ”Ah.” he said in pain, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes.”The SAS Headquarters are in England, n-not in France.” he blurted out.

”What? A codename? I don’t even have one! Al-l the guys used to call me skinny b-but…shit I don’t have a fucking clue.” Joe spat, he didn’t mean to be rude, he just was so angry at Strumfelder and this doctor, bastards…fucking Nazis. ”No orders, no special orders at all.” he said shaking his head slowly. ”You can look it all up m-mate, I don’t know what the fuck you are going on about.” he said, turning his head to doctor, his eyes filling with tears.

He heard whispering coming from the corner and glanced into the semi-darkness, just seeing Strumfelder moving away from the other man, he could feel his foot covered in his own blood and he couldn't do anything about it.

[☤Theodorijk Wijzemens]

This was becoming pointless. The man was saying anything of any importance. However, there were a few more questions to be asked before the doctor would allow Strumfelder to go entirely his own way. He looked down at the man on the table. "Josef, I have only two more questions, if you lie, I'll know, and Strumfelder will probably have a better way of getting you to talk." Almost everything the doctor had said was a lie. There were no pain killers, and Strumfelder would certainly go back to business as the doctor would look on.

Now, Doktor van de Vlakte looked back to Strumfelder before he turned back to the man to ask the questions. "Josef. From what city in Canada does Aiden Jacka come? Describe to me the structure of his family." Now there was a different motive for the questions. the doctor was thinking of a sinister plan that would bring about more information of the Canadian commander.

It didn't really matter what Josef said, Doktor van de Vlakte gave amotion to Strumfelder and whispered to him, accidentally in English, "Do as you will with him. I am done here." The doctor stepped away and sat in a chair against the wall with his men flanking him as he let Strumfelder begin using his tactics. Hopefully, some useful information would come about.

[Cpl. Joe Claude]

”Which city?” Joe said, repeating what the doctor had said and frowning. ”Er…Jesus, he doesn’t tell many people but f-from what I’ve heard it is called L-Littlehampton…” Joe said, his heart sank as he realized what he had just told the Nazi, he had just given his commanding officer the chop. ”And family structure I have no idea.” he said, ”We don’t get told anything about personal lives of our commanding officers.”

He shouldn’t have said anything, it was bad, but he just didn’t want any more pain, he would rather die then be put through more pain on this table. He could hear what the doctor said to Strumfelder, it made Joe’s blood run cold with the words, oh Strumfelder could do a lot of dangerous things, Joe stiffened up, he could just see the doctor go over to a chair and sit down, biting his lip, Joe stared up at the ceiling, his heart pounding in his chest, he closed his eyes for a breath second and then opened them, looking around.

OOC – Sorry for shortness.

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Now he could have some fun.

Strumfelder looked at Jonsen and smiled. The Sergeant would also enjoy this moment. Strumfelder stepped forward. “I think you know far more than you are telling us Josef.” Strumfelder spoke in a controlled tone. “Befreien Sie ihn und legen Sie ihn dann in die Fesseln.” The men did as ordered, and released the American from the table, and pushed him up. He obviously couldn’t stand, so they dragged his across the floor to a pair of chains hanging from the ceiling. The opened the bulky cuffs, before locking his wrists into them. Now he hung from the handcuffs, and dangled.

In the meantime, Strumfelder and Jonsen had both placed on leather gloves, a relaxed slightly. Jonsen had fetched a baton used by the Gestapo, and passed it to Strumfelder. The doctor weighed it in his hands, and examined it. “No, I don’t think you are telling us anything of any use, Josef. You will pay. Entfernen Sie seine Jacke.” The men again did as ordered, and removed the American’s upper clothing, revealing his bare back. The second his men had stepped back, Strumfelder brought the weapon back in a great arc, and then smashed it into the middle of his back. He did it again, and again. “YOU” SMACK. “WILL” SMACK. “PAY!!!” SMACK.! Every hit left a nasty mark on the American’s back. “Schlagen Sie ihn.” Strumfelder spat.

Jonsen grinned, and taking a small run up, thumped the American hard in the stomach with his knuckle duster. “Start talking, Josef!” Strumfelder yelled, as Jonsen landed a second hard punch.

[Cpl. Joe Claude]

Joe really did not know what to talk about; he didn’t know what they wanted. Joe was realized but his toenails were too numb and sore that he couldn’t stand, they dragged him off the table and his wrists were put into chains, because he was not the tallest of men, his feet did not touch the ground, he just dangled like an ape from the ceiling.

His clothing was them removed, revealing a skinny torso, Joe had been called the Skinny One by members of Easy Company because he was one of the skinniest and fittest among them, Joe liked the compliment but not know when he hadn’t had any food for ages and was wasting away. Joe could see out of the corner of his eye that something had been handed to Strumfelder, it looked heavy and long like a stick...no, it couldn’t be a baton…oh bloody hell.

Suddenly, no less than a second from when his clothing had been removed, the baton came hard and fast down on his back, it smashed into the middle of his back, and then another hit, another smash…Strumfelder was now yelling, smacking his back as Joe let out yells of agony as the thing came crashing down, his eyes filled with tears as he felt his back becoming red and inflamed.

The sergeant that had been with Strumfelder for ages now was running towards Joe, thumping him in the stomach, the sharp iron on the knuckle duster made Joe cough and splutter, his stomach starting to become covered in blood. Strumfelder yelled once more, ”Start talking, Josef.”
”About what? About what?” Joe’s voice cracked, tears streaming down his face, bands of sweat were coming down his face, and on to his back, he shook with crying.

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Strumfelder brought the baton down twice more on the spine, not sure what he was hitting was flesh or bone. Well, this man would have a lot of broken bones by this days sunset, if he didn't start to talk. He'd probably have more if did talk, because one answer leads to another two questions. This was great fun indeed. Strumfelder stepped back a few feet behind the American and threw the baton with incredible force. It struck the neck before bouncing off across the room.

Jonsen began to lay into the American's already scared face, opening up wounds. How much more could he take? Let's see. Strumfelder moved over to his medical kit, and removed a scalpel and a saw from the leather bag. The scalpel had a long sharp head, designed to make deep incisions, and was perfect to use when removing body parts. He placed the jagged saw on shelf close to his hat, and removed something else.

With it in his hand, he walked up to the American's now bloodied face and held it up for him to see. "This Josef, is Sodium Pentathol. It's a truth serum. I inject this into you, and you will be powerless to resist my questioning. In short, no more pain, Josef. But convince me that I need to use it. Tell my something I'd want to know. Because if you don't give me information, I'll take a hand."

Strumfelder stepped back, and allowed the words to sink in. Maybe he should just kill this prisoner now, but what would Vlakte think? He'd keep is mouth shut if he new what was good for him. Or maybe Strumfelder would have to close his mouth, permanently. He wasn't really sure. "So, some information, please, Josef?"

[Cpl. Joe Claude]

Joe's face was now covered in blood, he had been screaming with pain every time the baton had hit, his neck was now hurting from the weapon and his back felt like it was on fire. Jonsen had been opening up the old wounds from a few days back and Joe let out yelps of pain as the blood came down, dripping on to the floor and into his mouth and eyes. The American was breathing heavily, bloody hell he just wanted to curl up and die, this man was evil, this man really was the most awful man in the entire world...apart from Hitler, now he really was awful but this man came pretty close.

Strumfelder's voice was far off, but he suddenly saw a bottle with some sort of liquid being dangled in front of him, Joe was feeling dizzy so didn't exactly understand what Strumfelder was saying, he heard the man say about a hand, he was going to cut his hand off! Strumfelder stepped away from Joe now so the American could think, there was one way out and that was to answer questions, the pain was so great that it was making him lose concentration. He opened his mouth to speak but started coughing up blood.

He gritted his teeth, breathing fast. "I...I..." he began to say, blood coming out of his mouth, "Allies...planning....an...attack..." he spat blood away from his mouth, looking over at Strumfelder and then at the doctor, his eyes begging, begging to be released from the pain, maybe painkillers?

"Fucking hell." he spat more blood out, staring at the ground now, his arms were starting to really hurt now what with the ceiling, they felt like they were coming out of their sockets, tears started to mingle with the blood that kept on coming from the old wounds.

There goes the neighborhood. -JT

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

OOC: I hope you understand the god-modding. It’s a slight turning point for Strumfelder

He was fading, slowly, but surely this American was fading away. This was impossible. He hadn’t be beaten that badly, and yet he was close to fainting. He could barely speak and was mumbling. What could Strumfelder do with this wreck now?! Just when he was getting somewhere! He spun on the spot and threw the small bottle of clear liquid. It struck the wall and shattered, just above Vlakte’s head. Strumfelder couldn’t cut this American’s hand off now. He was too far gone to fear anything. And without fear, Strumfelder could do nothing but inflict more pain. But pain would just send the lump of organs in front of him into a sleep.

“Befreien Sie ihn.” Strumfelder spat out the three words. He was disappointed and annoyed. Nothing had been achieved in the past few minutes. Well, the American had been put through pain if you called that an achievement. But still, Strumfelder could have made far better use of his time on this early winter morning. This American had reveal precious little during his time here at the camp, and the spy in the prisoners had failed to note any of the American’s slip ups. What point was there to actually keeping him alive? He was a drain on food and materials, nothing more. They could experiment on him, but he was too malnourished and injured to be of any use. Yes, what was the point?

There was none. “HALT!” Strumfelder barked out the order, just before the Corporal released him from the shackles. The NCO stepped back, unsure of the Officer’s intensions. Strumfelder was now certain, and he took a few steps so he was now about five metres in front of his prisoner. “I’m so sorry it has come to this Josef, but you are nothing of any importance to the master race. I hope you enjoyed our hospitality. Goodbye.” The doctor drew his Mauser pistol from its leather holster and held the weapon at arms length, gazing down the iron sights. He aimed at the skull. One bullet was all the American needed.

Strumfelder could not feel the sharp trigger through his leather glove, but slowly began to squeeze. This American needed to die. He had to die. Then why wasn’t Strumfelder pulling the trigger. Why didn’t he shoot?! So he did.

The bullet exited the barrel and tore through the air, before striking the American’s flesh, sending out a spray of blood. Strumfelder lowered the pistol. Blood poured from the American’s wound.

“Stoppen Sie das Bluten und nähen Sie herauf die Magenwunde. Nehmen Sie ihn dann zurück zu dem prisoner' Schwefelverbindung. Ich schlage vor, dass Sie ihm etwas Nahrung geben. I don' t denken, dass Herr Claude zu jeder Zeit bald essen wird. Blei gibt die schrecklichsten Verdauungsbeschwerden.”

Translations
“Stoppen Sie das Bluten und nähen Sie herauf die Magenwunde. Nehmen Sie ihn dann zurück zu dem prisoner' Schwefelverbindung. Ich schlage vor, dass Sie ihm etwas Nahrung geben. I don' t denken, dass Herr Claude zu jeder Zeit bald essen wird. Blei gibt die schrecklichsten Verdauungsbeschwerden.”
~ Stop the bleeding, and sew up the stomach wound. Then take him back to the prisoner's compound. I suggest you give him some nutrition. I don't think Mr Claude will be eating anytime soon. Lead gives the most terrible indigestion.

[☤Theodorijk Wijzemens]

Doktor van de Vlakte sat in a near daze as he watched Strumfelder nearly kill the American. The doctor dropped his notepad as he unbelted his pistol, taking a hold of it as he looked to the door where his two assistants were standing. He nodded to them; they drew their rifles in a semi-ready fashion as Strumfelder stopped and dangled the serum before the man, promising a rest should he give information.

What had Dieedrik done? He let Strumfelder do this. No sooner had he thought of standing up than a glass bottle exploded over his head. He stood up as the man before him drew his pistol on the prisoner, waited, then shot the man in the stomach.

Dieedrik would wait no longer, "Doktor Strumfelder! Mit mir draußen kommen und sprechen. Deine Männer lassen, um den Gefangenen zu beschäftigen." It was the first time, he had referred to Strumfelder as 'doktor' in months. He had always been the rank, not the title, to most people including Doktor van de Vlakte.

He stepped aside and looked to one of his men standing at the door. "Friedhold, stellen sicher, daß der Gefangene lebendig gehalten wird. Ihm etwas Brot und Wasser außerdem erhalten." He walked out of the cooler and led went to the nearby commander's office. The commandant had left already after his wife was raped and murdered in front of him, he had gone to some corner before contemplating suicide. It was a disgusting thing Strumfelder had done this day.

The doctor stood in the office as Strumfelder arrived. He looked with steel eyes to this man whom had been his friend at some point but was now pushing limits like nothing else. He kept calm, taking a few deep breaths before he started speaking. "Doktor Strumfelder, was war das innen dort? Ich könnte nichts aber einen verärgerten Mann nicht sehen, der seinen Zorn heraus auf einem Gefangenen nimmt, der offensichtlich keine Informationen von Bedeutung hat." He stopped and looked down at the telephone on the desk and pulled it forward. The Gestapo were supremely unoriginal, the devices were always under the phone. He pulled the bug apart and looked to Strumfelder.

He continued with the same steely calm voice, it was bathed in an emotion that Dieedrik couldn't comprehend as well, disgust perhaps. Du tötetest Deutsche heute und du verletztest die Familie eines Mannes, um an ihn zu gelangen. Nicht nur daß, aber du nicht sogar den Amerikaner aus seinem Elend heraus setzen würdest. Jedoch denke ich nicht, der ist, warum du ihn nicht schossest. du warst, ihn aus einem anderen Grund zu töten. Warst du nicht? Mich dir, dir erklären lassen und ich habe beide gebrochen unserem größten Eid. Nicht zum Gott, nicht zum Führer, nicht nach Deutschland. Wir haben unsere Eide zur Menschlichkeit verletzt!" He took a breath, already he had sealed a death warrant if Strumfelder cared to say anything. However, if Strumfelder said anything, he would be at risk as well. And indeed, both of the doctors would have the ability to play their mind games that they were both so god at. No, they have this meeting to themselves.

Translations:
"Doktor Strumfelder! Mit mir draußen kommen und sprechen. Deine Männer lassen, um den Gefangenen zu beschäftigen."
~Doktor Strumfelder! Come and speak to me outside. Leave your men to deal with the prisoner.

"Friedhold, stellen sicher, daß der Gefangene lebendig gehalten wird. Ihm etwas Brot und Wasser außerdem erhalten."
~Friedhold, make sure the prisoner is kept alive. Get him some bread and water as well.

"Doktor Strumfelder, was war das innen dort? Ich könnte nichts aber einen verärgerten Mann nicht sehen, der seinen Zorn heraus auf einem Gefangenen nimmt, der offensichtlich keine Informationen von Bedeutung hat."
~Doktor Strumfelder, what was that in there? I couldn't see anything but an angry man taking his anger out on a prisoner who obviously has no information of importance.

Du tötetest Deutsche heute und du verletztest die Familie eines Mannes, um an ihn zu gelangen. Nicht nur daß, aber du nicht sogar den Amerikaner aus seinem Elend heraus setzen würdest. Jedoch denke ich nicht, der ist, warum du ihn nicht schossest. du warst, ihn aus einem anderen Grund zu töten. Warst du nicht? Mich dir, dir erklären lassen und ich habe beide gebrochen unserem größten Eid. Nicht zum Gott, nicht zum Führer, nicht nach Deutschland. Wir haben unsere Eide zur Menschlichkeit verletzt!"
~You killed Germans today and you hurt a man's family in order to get to him. Not only that, but you wouldn't even put the American out of his misery. However, I don't think that's why you didn't shoot him. you were going to kill him for another reason. Were you not? Let me tell you, you and I have both broken our greatest oath. Not to God, not to the Führer, not to Germany. We have broken our oaths to humanity!

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Strumfelder felt insulted, as his superior lead him away as if he was a troublesome schoolboy in a class room. He was treating his prisoner how he felt he should, and that was that. And yet Vlakte suddenly seemed to have developed affection for this animal? You don’t become feared within the SS being kind and generous. You must show no mercy, and you must tear your opponents apart. Strumfelder was sorry that Vlakte had decided to become one of them. He used to like the man, before his heart got the better of him. He was weak, and was treading on Strumfelder’s toes, and Strumfelder was having none of it.

“Ich bin sehr traurig, dass Sie sich entschieden haben, verstehend zu einem Mann zu werden, der glücklich Sie unten, wenn er bewaffnet war, und keinen Zweifel schießen würde, die, er ihn zu anderen Krieger von Deutschland getan hat. Aber mein Job ist, die Schmerz zuzufügen und zu versuchen, Informationen zu extrahieren. Ich interessiere mich für Deutschland und das Führer und Menschlichkeit. Ich bedauere Sie, Dieedrik, wenn Sie glauben, dass Sie Ihre Eide verletzt haben, aber meine Gewissenhaftigkeit ist sauber. Wie schlagen Sie mich, meinen Eid zur Menschlichkeit verletzt zu haben vor, wenn ich Schweine so nicht als Menschen sehe?” Strumfelder kept a very controlled tone; this had caused him problems in the past. He would not give Vlakte the chance he wanted.

Concerning the Kommandant, he had decided to bar Strumfelder’s way, so Strumfelder taught him a lesson. There would be an investigation, but nobody would speak out for fear of the same treatment. Strumfelder would happily make himself feared if he’d have to. But he could not understand this Doctor. He was unsure if he was trying to appeal to Strumfelder, or simply reprimand him. But none the less, he’d made him look a fool in front of his prisoner. Whether the prisoner had been conscious enough to register was debatable, but in an instant, Strumfelder forgot his friendship with this man. “Ich kenne Sie nicht Dieedrik.” he muttered.

“Sie haben mich Schlechtes des Blickes sehr heute gebildet, und ich stehe nicht für es. Sie können glauben, dass Sie über mir, Dieedrik sind, aber Waffen nicht unterscheiden.” He spoke to this man now as an equal, not a superior. A superior demanded respect, but how could you give something which you don’t have for somebody? You can’t.

Strumfelder moved quickly, not bothering to pull the punch, and launched it at the older man’s face. As it swung round, he closed his arm and jabbed forward with his elbow, stepping into the blow. He used the shock of the moment to draw his pistol and ready it. Vlakte would pay for his troublesome actions and words. A terrible accident. A prisoner trying to escape in the distance. The men wouldn’t have seen who they were firing at. He would be in the ground before anybody new the wiser.



Translations:
“Ich bin sehr traurig, dass Sie sich entschieden haben, verstehend zu einem Mann zu werden, der glücklich Sie unten, wenn er bewaffnet war, und keinen Zweifel schießen würde, die, er ihn zu anderen Krieger von Deutschland getan hat. Aber mein Job ist, die Schmerz zuzufügen und zu versuchen, Informationen zu extrahieren. Ich interessiere mich für Deutschland und das Führer und Menschlichkeit. Ich bedauere Sie, Dieedrik, wenn Sie glauben, dass Sie Ihre Eide verletzt haben, aber meine Gewissenhaftigkeit ist sauber. Wie schlagen Sie mich, meinen Eid zur Menschlichkeit verletzt zu haben vor, wenn ich Schweine so nicht als Menschen sehe?”
~ I’m very sorry that you have decided to become understanding to a man who would happily gun you down if he was armed, and no doubt he has done it to others warriors of Germany. But my job is to inflict pain and to attempt to extract information. I care about Germany and the Führer, and humanity. I pity you, Dieedrik, if you feel that you have broken your oaths, but my conscience is clean. How do you propose I have broken my oath to humanity, if I don’t see swine like this as humans?

“Ich kenne Sie nicht Dieedrik.”
~ I do not know you Dieedrik.

“Sie haben mich Schlechtes des Blickes sehr heute gebildet, und ich stehe nicht für es. Sie können glauben, dass Sie über mir, Dieedrik sind, aber Waffen nicht unterscheiden.”
~ You have made me look very bad today, and I will not stand for it. You may believe you are above me, Dieedrik, but weapons don’t distinguish.

[☤Theodorijk Wijzemens]

OOC: Sorry for all the god-modding. Of course, other things could happen while you're being escorted.

The words sunk in. This man had gone mad through only months time. This was not the man he once knew. Though, he had little time to mull it over as the men began giving the signs, the peremptory movements. Luckily, the doctor's pistol was in his hand as he had put it in his pocket before coming to the building. He was faster to the draw as Strrumfelder punched at him, he moved to the side just as he was scathed by the fist, then the elbow scather the top of his head. It was a hard hit, but the doctor had his pistol out as he shot to the side and stood up, yelling -- "Schutz! Schutz!"

Now, standing over the man that was moving back from the elbow he was putting his body into, the doctor knew in a split second that he would not live through the day if he didn't fire. He took quick aim for the man's hand and pulled the trigger -- once, twice, three times just as the guards came running in with their rifles up. Not even knowing if he had hit the man, the doctor strode back to the door.

He stood their as the guards came around and looked bewilderingly. The doctor had not won this fight, be was alive, however briefly. The Hauptärtzlichführer van de Vlakte came to the guards and said loudly, Sperre diesen Mann ein. Er hat einen überlegenen Offizier geschlagen. Er bleibt in der Gefangenschaft während einen Gericht Marschall.

Dieedrik stepped back as the guards escorted the man out of the room. The entire world was confusing now. He left the building, holstered his pistol and called for his men who soon came with his medical bag. The doctor was done with this place. Except, perhaps one last loose string. He walked back to the cooler and noticed the camp doctor. "Doktor, unterzeichnen diese Papiere. Ich nehme Josef Claude mit mir nach Nürnberg."

The man was unconscious. Dieedrik had his men load him onto a stretcher and bring him to the car sitting in the compound. the doctor got into the back of the car while Friedhold took the wheel and the other aide kept guard over the prisoner. The care left the camp and head on the Autobahn straight for Nürnberg.

"Schutz! Schutz!"
~Guards! Guards!

Sperre diesen Mann ein. Er hat einen überlegenen Offizier geschlagen. Er bleibt in der Gefangenschaft während einen Gericht Marschall.
~Imprison this man. He has struck a superior officer. He shall remain in captivity pending a court marshal.

"Doktor, unterzeichnen diese Papiere. Ich nehme Josef Claude mit mir nach Nürnberg."
~Doctor, sign these papers. I'm taking Josef Claude with me to Nuremberg.

[Daniel Brennan]

Moderation Post

The following CP has been issued;

Strumfelder: 10CP

Docter Vlakte/Wijzemens: 10CP


~Dan