The Morals of Mankind

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

OOC: There are going to be a series of threads where me and the Doc dicuss some of the war's more controversial issues. Here's a little disclaimer, so it is not percieved the wrong way.

The purpose of this thread is not to support any racist, or political, view. None of the writers of this thread hold the views or support the actions written. This thread is more to show the Nazis for their actions and views. It shows how even the best of people can be manipulated and psychologically forced into doing things that they would never do in their right mind. This thread and RP is perhaps some the darkest for good reason. We can never prevent things this evil from happening again if we are not aware of the nature of that evil.

IC: Erhard Strumfelder had found himself in better moods over his past thirty five years of life. He also supposed he’d found himself in worse, and that he could very well be in a far worse situation than he was now, standing inside the warm cool shade of the local Tavern. It was scorching hot out side, the ground was arid, and he needed something to refresh him. He’d of preferred a small bottle of Schnapps, but a simple lager would be enough to sooth his throat. Erhard had his sleeves rolled up, and the uppermost button of his black jacket undone. He didn’t look smart, but every man was so hot even the officers didn’t mind. He might as well be in Africa than in the middle of the German summer.

He stepped further into the brick building, holding the main door open for his superior. Erhard grinned as he wiped a hand over his sweaty forehead, as Vlakte stepped in. He motioned to a table in the Tavern’s far corner, right next to an open window. “Wenn Sie und uns zu schnappen werden, dass Tabelle, ich uns einige Getränke erhält? Ihr übliches nehme ich es?” Erhard left the Doc to his own devices, and stepped up to the bar. He grabbed a small half pint, and a glass of Cognac. Erhard could never find a taste for the brandy; he thought of himself as rather simple.

Carefully he walked back over. The place wasn’t as full as you might think. Many people were down at the river, where it was slightly cooler. It was a nice scene. Without the abnormal presence of so many military men, one could barely conceive the idea there was a war on. But there was, and you learnt to cope with these things.
Erhard plonked the two glasses down on the battered table, and slid the drink over to the older man. Strumfelder smiled. “So was sollen wir heute debattieren?” he said jokingly.




Translations:

“Wenn Sie und uns zu schnappen werden, dass Tabelle, ich uns einige Getränke erhält? Ihr übliches nehme ich es?”
~ If you will and snatch us that table, I will get us some drinks? Your usual I take it?

“So was sollen wir heute debattieren?”
~ So, what shall we debate today?

[☤Theodorijk Wijzemens]

In all his forty years of life, Dieedrik van de Vlakte had never felt as bad as he did now. Two letters had arrived to him on the same day, notifying him of death. Dieedrik was too down to enjoy anything, so when Doktor Strumfelder invited him to the tavern for their usual drink that had become tradition each week since Erhard had arrived, Dieedrik accepted it, hoping to get drunk to wash away the sadness. He wasn’t thinking as he usually did as the two medical-men arrived at the doors of the tavern. Dieedrik was sure Strumfelder knew something wass wrong, but the man hadn’t let on yet. They walked into the tavern that was indeed just as hot as it was outside. Dieedrik wasn’t wearing his jacket as he had his sleeves rolled up, hoping to feel cooler than the climate would allow.

As Strumfelder went to the bar to get some drinks, Doktor Vlakte walked over to a booth-like table near the open windows of the tavern. Sitting by the windows offered no consolation from the heat as a warm breeze blew through the windows, only serving to dry his sweaty forehead and make him feel even hotter than before; if that was possible. His light brown hair was plastered to his forehead as the sweat dried, leaving him looking winded. As Dieedrik looked out the window to see a short convoy pass by, Strumfelder sat down across from the doctor, pushing the wineglass of cognac toward him. Being an SS man did allow the doctor access to good French wine, though any HJ boy would be supremely offended that the doctor wasn’t drinking German wine. Dieedrik’s dislike for the Nazi ideals of German wine and cheese were well-known, but it was one of those rules that even the upper echelon of the party broke; everyone drank the French wine and ate the Italian cheese.

The doctor took a sip of the cognac and frowned. The taste of the alcohol made him feel bad; something the wine hadn’t done to him before. He drank anyway, taking a larger sip and swirling the glass, almost mocking the upper classes with his ‘skill’ in drinking the fine wine. Strumfelder asked of ‘today’s’ debate. Dieedrik almost smiled, but the grief immediately came back before he did so. “Kein Erörterung heute. Ich tauge nichts. Ich nahm Nachrichten auf, vom die Kriegsmarine und das Rotes Kreuz.„

Translations:
“Kein Erörterung heute. Ich tauge nichts. Ich nahm Nachrichten auf, vom die Kriegsmarine und das Rotes Kreuz.„
~No debate today. I’m not of mind today. I received some letters today from the Navy and Red Cross.

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Erhard looked up at his superior, as he took a long sip of his own cold liquor. He relaxed slightly, and watched the man. He was sluggish, and had a very dull look in his eyes, hardly his usual appearance. Erhard rarely cared for his appearance, but at least he knew where could dress down, and where he couldn’t. He often wondered if he’d wasted his life. Being a Doctor looked good from the outside; good pay, and few un-pleasantries, but the fact of the matter was, it was a lie. Yes, life was more interesting than working twelve hours a day in a factory, but it was also more interesting to share your bed with a pack of lions than your wife. Erhard had helped many people, but at what price to himself? He’d once been working in a trench, when a grenade had gone off directly above him. It didn’t even scratch him, but he swore his hearing had never been as bad before. But someone had to do it, just as someone had to empty bins everyday. It earned him a living, but little more.

“Ich nehme es, das sie die berdens oder die sobreing Nachrichten waren? Wer jetzt hat ihr Leben Art durch diesen blutigen Krieg schneiden gelassen?” He asked, surprised Vlakte didn’t want to debate. Most of the men were ignorant of world events and opinions, but this Doctor wasn’t, and Erhard found him a very interesting man to talk with. He thought and realised his life could be worse. He was an SS man, which granted its own privileges, but he hardly considered himself a model SS man. He had gained the post through a close family friend, and didn’t have to go through all the rigorous training and selection. Erhard supposed that was one lucky break he’d had. Maybe he should improve himself slightly, and get himself that promotion. With a little one on the way, he could use the extra pay. He’d need to work on it fast though, it was six weeks till it was due.




Translations:

“Ich nehme es, das sie die berdens oder die sobreing Nachrichten waren? Wer jetzt hat ihr Leben Art durch diesen blutigen Krieg schneiden gelassen?”
~ I take it they were the burdens or sobering news? Who now has had their life cut sort by this bloody war?

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

OOC: Thought I would show some face. I’ll post in our neutral thread soon Erhard, just wanted a change, hope you didn’t mind?


Yanking at his collar to loosen it, Sturmbannführer Wolfram marched along the pavement callously, his nipped and tucked leather boots clacking against the concrete with a fine altitude of force, his hand idling playing with the wooden collapsible bootjack inside his pocket. The heat had the Sturmbannführer occasionally removing his boots, to air out his thick skinned feet, the heat was unbearable and the leather was hardly softened upon his new jackboots.

Panting out a hot winded breath, Sturmbannführer Wolfram cut a narrow corner, briskly crossing the road as a convoy truck came brawling up the rear. The noticeable sound of German Engineering was explicit, but it’s break pads weren’t so amicable, as the heavy truck screeched somewhat, causing a deafening high-pitch to wake the dead. The driver sat up straight immediately upon noticing the Sturmbannführer cross his path, almost panicking about his appearance the moment the callous blonde haired male strove his dinky blue eyes towards his general direction and began to approach; “Heil Hitler”[/I] the driver said firm and quickly, his sweaty hand raising out of the window for a brief lived salute. “Heil - Könnten Sie mir erzählen, wo ich Getränk einen Ort mein Durstsoldat finden könnte?” Sturmbannführer Wolfram questioned with a firm lip, watching the man behind the wheel almost stutter and judder in thought. “Herr Sturmbannführer! Es gibt eine Schenke die nächste Drehung hinunter, nach links”.

Smirking lightly, he nodded and quickly said “Vielen Dank, treibt sicher und hat Ihre Brüche auch Soldaten haben gesehen”, before moving away from the driver’s door and convoy truck to apprehend his brisk pace once again, following the directions with a swift move. He was hot, bothered and tired to say the least. Upon seeing the hanging wooden sign, protruding from out of the tavern’s wall onto the walkway, the Sturmbannführer almost quickened his pace, the clicking of the well shined and new jackboots he wore a little too apparent, but at least it contributed to the lack of composure and slackening areas to his drooping uniform. Tugged open and loosely worn for comfort, due to the heat.

Pushing into the door, the Sturmbannführer boldly took a couple of steps in, twisting off his officer flat-cap to perch up beneath his arm, whilst his hands made quick work of undoing a few tunic buttons. Immediately falling at ease. He hadn’t noticed the two Doctors from the Das-Reich idly sitting by the window, enjoying a beverage, as his attention was fixated upon the bar upfront. “Ein Kaltes Bier bitte” he requested, before the young barmaid could open her mouth - his body slowly and limberly moving towards the front of the bar, placing his immaculate flat-cap upon the bar-top, his eyes catching a curious look from a East-German officer quietly drinking at the opposed end of the tavern’s bar. Jealously maybe? Chirping a quiet breath to himself, the Sturmbannführer dragged out a stool and leant against it stiffly, trying to undo his cufflinks, before he twisted off a Silver SS, Thunderbolt emblem ring from his left hand, the marriage finger, to place upon the bar-top. Ironically, the Sturmbannführer wore the ring as if he were married to the SS, which was a very strong symbolic gesture to make.


Translations;[/b]

Könnten Sie mir erzählen, wo ich Getränk einen Ort mein Durstsoldat finden könnte?
- Could you tell me where I could find a place to beverage my thirst soldier?

Herr Sturmbannführer! Es gibt eine Schenke die nächste Drehung hinunter, nach links.
- Herr Sturmbannführer! There is a tavern down the next turning, to the left.

Vielen Dank, treibt sicher und hat Ihre Brüche auch Soldaten haben gesehen.
- Thank you, drive safely and have your breaks seen too soldier.

Ein Kaltes Bier bitte
- A cold Ale please

[☤Theodorijk Wijzemens]

The world closed in on Dieedrik as the thought finally hit him when Strumfelder asked of the letters. A grief previously unknown to Dieedrik filled his thoughts as he frowned. He had had his tears already, but the sadness was still not gone. In an almost stuttering tone, van de Vlakte answered Strumfelder, knowing talking about it would help, “Die Briefe haben mich von meines Bruders und der Tod von Schwester informiert. Während der gleichen Periode von sechs Stunden, wurde mein Bruder durch die Russen und meine Schwester, eine Krankenschwester in die Tschechoslowakei, hinunter wurde ermordet von den Parteigänger zum Heilen des SS Kommandant in Prag geschossen. Ich habe beide Briefe im gleichen Tag erhalten.” Keeping his face straight, Doktor Vlakte turned his face toward the window again, meeting the warm breeze that enveloped his head.

Doktor Vlakte sat in silence as he thought of the letter. Attached to the Red Cross letter, informing him of his sister’s death was an article from Das Schwarze Korps, the SS newspaper that was distributed to the ranks and required reading for SS men. The article explained everything for Doktor Vlakte:
Three days ago, a German nurse, who came to the aid of Gruppenführer Krieder, the SS commander of the Prague district in Czechoslovakia was found dead in the hospital. After a seven hour search for the murderers, the Schutzstaffel bravely fought civilians to bring the perpetrators to justice. The perpetrators in question were so called – Czech Resistance – fighters, punishing Nurse Vlakte of the illustrious Dutch family, for her actions to save Gruppenführer Krieder from life-threatening disease. From this, we can assume the Slavic evildoers had poisoned the Gruppenführer and were quite disappointed to find he was indeed alive. The families of the evildoers have been purged from the German population in west Czechoslovakia and peace has rightly come to the city. SS personnel from around the 3rd Reich are being collected to guard the area and deal with the Slavic menace that threatens our German way of life.

For once in his life, Doktor Vlakte was beginning to believe what the Das Schwarze Korps. He sipped his wine again and set the glass down spitting the cognac out the open window, “Gottfluch es! Dieser Kognak schmeckt wie Scheiße. Sie töteten meinen Bruder und meine Schwester! Guter Gott!” His voice cracked as he yelled into the heavy air of the tavern, gaining the momentary attention of most people in the room.



Translations:
“Die Briefe haben mich von meines Bruders und der Tod von Schwester informiert. Während der gleichen Periode von sechs Stunden, wurde mein Bruder durch die Russen und meine Schwester, eine Krankenschwester in die Tschechoslowakei, hinunter wurde ermordet von den Parteigänger zum Heilen des SS Kommandant in Prag geschossen. Ich habe beide Briefe im gleichen Tag erhalten.”
~The letters informed me of my brother’s and sister’s death. During the same period of six hours, my brother was shot down by the Russians and my sister, a nurse in Czechoslovakia, was murdered by the partisans for healing the SS commander in Prague. I got both letters in the same day.

“Gottfluch es. Dieser Kognak schmeckt wie Scheiße. Sie töteten meinen Bruder und meine Schwester. Guter Gott.”
~ God damn it. This cognac tastes like shit. They killed my brother and my sister. Good god.

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

OOC: Sorry this is so short, but I’m writing three posts simultaneously, and because of the conversation it’s going to be short and sharp.

Strumfelder noticed the man’s entrance, but failed to realise who it was. He didn’t really care though; he was more shocked by Vlakte’s outburst. How strong was that wine!? He listened to the Doctors explanation, and Erhard suddenly realised he was in a rather difficult situation himself. Most people in the tavern turned to look at their table, and Erhard did his level best to keep his head low, and try and comfort his friend. But how could you effectively comfort someone who had lost two siblings in one day. He supposed it depended on how the man felt, if he was upset, it would be easier. If he was angry, which any idiot could see he was, it would be much harder. Losing a loved one was never easy, Erhard had lost several brothers himself during the Great War, but he had just been a child, and ignorant.

He placed his hand onto the Doctor’s arm and tried to defuse his anger. “Beruhigen Sie unten. Möglicherweise trinken ist nicht die beste Sache, zum in der derzeitigen Situation zu tun. Ich bin traurig. Waren Sie nah an ihnen?” he said in a soothing voice. If he could get Vlakte back to his quarters, and calm him down, they could talk more comfortably. He didn’t want to make a scene in public, but he didn’t want the situation to escalate either by forcing him to do something. Erhard was a doctor, but rarely gave the news of someone’s death to their relatives, and had never had to comfort somebody in grief. He’d have to handle this very carefully and play it by ear.




Translations:

“Beruhigen Sie unten. Möglicherweise trinken ist nicht die beste Sache, zum in der derzeitigen Situation zu tun. Ich bin traurig. Waren Sie nah an ihnen?”
~ Calm down. Maybe drinking is not the best thing to do in the present situation. I am sorry. Were you close to them?

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

Sighing heavily, the Sturmbannführer rubbed at the pink fleshy indent made from the silver sterling SS ring he wore upon his marriage finger. The heat had caused his flesh to swell a little, he could already begin to feel his ankles becoming numb and sore from continuously rubbing against the insides of the new tarnished jackboots. Urgh! the weather was humid, hot and bothersome and the company of patrons within the local Tavern didn’t seem all too eager to be brandishing a talk either; A few dreary eyes wandering about idly, succumbing to the devil’s torture of boredom, with a pint of bitter suppressed against their lips.

Listening to the clunk from a mug of ale being placed upon the bar-top, the Sturmbannführer twisted his gaze towards the young barmaid, shedding an iffy and intimidated smile. “Vielen Dank,” he quibbled out distractedly, as someone loudly insulted the taste of their beverage, before easing out a distraught confession - their siblings being dead. The Sturmbannführer double looked almost towards the ignorant patron raising his voice unnecessarily, but soon swallowed his own tongue as he bared witness to the familiar tunics and faces. Well, from what he could make out from the back of their heads; Hesitantly for a brief moment, the Sturmbannführer glanced between the barmaid awaiting payment and off towards the couple of men by the window, who’d encountered a cold draft of looks and attention.

Fumbling a hand into his pocket, he scattered some Reich marks onto the stained bar-top and nodded towards the young woman who muffled a grumble to the haste in which he’d thrown the money down in. Gathering his few belongings on the table, he nestled the officer’s flat-cap up beneath his armpit and slid the “Thunderbolt Insignia” SS ring back onto his finger, almost forgetting his mug of brew in the process. Taking a sip of the ale, he casually and almost cautiously walked towards the two men, the illuming feeling of unwanted attention drifting about them -- Stepping aside Doctor Vlakte at the table, he broke wind of a weak smile and glanced between the two men worriedly momentarily.

“Doktor Vlakte, Verfälscht Strumfelder. Alles stimmt zu?”, the question almost sounding a little dumb founded as the apparent expression upon Doctor Vlakte’s face explained everything. Awkwardly, he took a small sip from his glass-mug of ale and set it onto the table, glancing to the closest chair to set his hand upon it, already dragging it out before asking. “Darf ich Sie anschließen? Könnte nicht helfen aber könnte bemerken, dass Sie eine Firma benutzen könnten..” he said quite honestly, drawing out a seat slowly, as if keeping his bodily motions to a dim, not wanting to attract or avert anymore attention than need be; Sitting, he displayed a curious look between the two men, wondering if what he’d heard out-loud in the Tavern was true - Had Mr Vlakte lost his siblings? Not wanting to purge the question, he bit his tongue and awaited to be spoke too…


Translations:[/b]
Doktor Vlakte, Verfälscht Strumfelder. Alles stimmt zu?
- Doctor Vlakte, Doctor Strumfelder. Everything okay?

Darf ich Sie anschließen? Könnte nicht helfen aber könnte bemerken, dass Sie eine Firma benutzen könnten..
- May I join you? Couldn't help but notice you could use some company..

[☤Theodorijk Wijzemens]

The bitter taste of adrenaline came to Dieedrik’s mouth as he turned back to the table to find half the room looking at him. “Was ist ihr ganz betrachtend? Hat ihr nicht Leid vorher! gesehen? The men in the tavern turned back to their drinks, still glancing over to Vlakte’s table. Strumfelder, tried to diffuse the situation, asking Dieedrik of his relations. He quickly caught himself, remembering he was in a public place. “Ja war ich zu ihnen nah. Ich bin 10 Jahre älter als mein Bruder; er schaute oben zu mir. Ich mußte ihn mit Familie meiner Schwester lassen, als meine Eltern starben, als er 10 Jahre alt war. Ich wuchs mit meiner Schwester, Marjolijn, in Amsterdam auf. Die drei von uns waren sehr nah, da wir keine Eltern für Unterstützung hatten. Jetzt haben jene Slavic Irren mich allein auf dieser Masse gelassen.” Doktor Vlakte kept himself in stature now, knowing that open emotion would only harm things, much to the relief of Strumfelder, he could see.

At this point, Sturmbannführer Wolfram appeared from no where, something usual for him, though rather annoying to most members of Das Reich! He asked if the two doctors were okay, “Ja Herr Sturmbannführer; Ich bin fein. Alle ich gerade hatte einen Ausbruch bin. Danke.” Wolfram sat down next to Strumfelder, across from Dieedrik. Dieedrik couldn’t help but feel a little put out. “Ich erklärte gerade, um Strumfelder zu behandeln ein paar Briefe, die ich heute empfing.“ Dieedrik grabbed the glass of congac and threw the liquid and the glass out the window carelessly.


Translations:
“Was ist ihr ganz betrachtend? Hat ihr nicht Leid vorher! gesehen?
~What are you all looking at? Have you not seen grief before!?
“Ja war ich zu ihnen nah. Ich bin 10 Jahre älter als mein Bruder; er schaute oben zu mir. Ich mußte ihn mit Familie meiner Schwester lassen, als meine Eltern starben, als er 10 Jahre alt war. Ich wuchs mit meiner Schwester, Marjolijn, in Amsterdam auf. Die drei von uns waren sehr nah, da wir keine Eltern für Unterstützung hatten. Jetzt haben jene Slavic Irren mich allein auf dieser Masse gelassen.”
~Yes, I was close to them. I'm ten years older than my brother; he looked up to me. I had to leave him with my sister's family when my parents died when he was ten years old. I grew up with my sister, Marjolijn, in Amsterdam. The three of us were very close since we had no parents for support. Now those Slavic madmen have left me alone on this earth.
“Ja Herr Sturmbannführer; Ich bin fein. Alle ich gerade hatte einen Ausbruch bin. Danke.”
~Yes, Herr Sturmbannführer; I am fine. I just had an outburst is all. Thank you.
“Ich erklärte gerade, um Strumfelder zu behandeln ein paar Briefe, die ich heute empfing.“
~I was just explaining to Doctor Strumfelder a couple of letters I received today.

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Sarcasm towards a senior officer was never a good thing, but Erhard guessed that Wolfram would cut Vlakte a little slack. He was a little annoyed by the Doctors outburst; Erhard hated the feeling people were watching him, and no doubt this would spread around the barracks like wildfire. What he really needed to do was calm the man down, before this situation escalated any further. Wolfram would be a good distraction, but taking Vlakte’s mind off the topic at hand seemed rather...wrong. But if it was that, or having the Doctor turn this place upside down, he knew which he’d rather have happen.

“Wie Sie von geschätzt können, Herr Strumbannfuhrer, waren sie nicht gute Nachrichten. Vor Dieedrik verlor einen Bruder und eine Schwester zu den Kommunisten einigen Tagen. Er ist wenig gerüttelt über es, wie Sie sehen können.” He said slowly, trying to hint that he could do with some help. Erhard took a small sip of his lager, and sloshed it around his mouth, trying to find an excuse not to speak. Bloody hell, it was hot!

“Wünschen Sie mich Ihnen ein anderes Getränk erhalten? Sie sagten, das nicht ziemlich so gut war, wie Sie erwartet hatten.” He questioned, getting up from his seat and reaching for the glass.



Translations:

“Wie Sie von geschätzt können, Herr Strumbannfuhrer, waren sie nicht gute Nachrichten. Vor Dieedrik verlor einen Bruder und eine Schwester zu den Kommunisten einigen Tagen. Er ist wenig gerüttelt über es, wie Sie sehen können.”
~ As you may of guessed, Herr Strumbannfuhrer, they were not good news. Dieedrik lost a brother and sister to communists a few days ago. He is a little shaken about it, as you can see.


“Wünschen Sie mich Ihnen ein anderes Getränk erhalten? Sie sagten, das nicht ziemlich so gut war, wie Sie erwartet hatten.”
~ Do you want me to get you another drink? You said that was not quite as good as you had expected.

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

OOC: Strumfelder, would you mind if we based this thread AFTER our current neutral thread? I feel that there could be more to sympathise with Wolfram’s character if so, plus there’s a move I’d like to make and I wouldn’t be able to do it otherwise.


Feeling a sludgy piece of dry and dead skin upon his lower lip, the Sturmbannführer cuffed his loose woven tunic sleeve against his lip roughly, surprised to still be in the damn uniform! Regulations were regulations, he wasn’t officially on leave as of yet anyhow; More of an “Day Trip” away from the barracks, delivering some papers to the local police station personally, which in turn had them ferried over to the Gestapo. Small errands had him breathing fresh air in no time and he was thankful for escaping the four wooden walls to his bigger office - nothing too fancy, he was still being paid peanuts compared to the few Oberführers towards the end of the hall on the same level. The higher levels were restricted; No pass without paper. Invitations.

Leaning back for a moment, Sturmbannführer Wolfram looked to Erhard Strumfelder who confirmed what he thought he’d heard out loud. Indeed the poor Doctor had lost two siblings, perhaps ignorantly or just unaware, the Sturmbannführer irritated by the dryness of his lips continued to lick at them the whole while. “Ich bin sehr erbärmlich für Ihren Verlustdoktor”, he sympathetically said with a weak smile, before leaning forwards slowly, whilst one of his hands processed the job of fishing out a folded envelope. “Thalhaussen, Norden von München. Mein Großvater, Großmutter - nicht jünger als achtzig mit meiner eigenen Mutter sind momentan als Fehlen aufgezeichnet, haben Verstorbene vermutet. Verbrannt wie sie waren. ... Abschaum oder jüdisch!” he angrily spat out towards the end, his voice quite demonically and throatily husk when angry, but calming himself quite abruptly, he wiped his lips from the small spit that’d escaped and looked away to take a deep breath, tossing the envelop onto the table as if he didn’t care anymore.

“Deutsche Parteigänger, unterstützt durch den ruskys zu werden... Ich bin glücklich mein Vater ist momentan in München mit meiner Schwester und jungem Wolfrick. Sie arbeiten - Sie sehen und Wolfrick, mag er den Lastwagen und den Soldaten zuschauen” the briefest of smiles broke upon his lips momentarily, before hastily fading. Looking to Doctor Vlakte, he shook his head slowly and leant against the table, burying his head into the palms of his hands, before running his long slender digits through his hair to bellow out a hard breath. Facing the grieving Doctor, he grinned that devious trademark smirk and stared at him. “Ich habe einen Flug, der für München in zwei Tagen gebucht wird. Liefern Sie die schlechten Nachrichten, aber vielleicht Sie könnten mit dem Bruch Dieedrik machen - Sie auch Erhard. Sie sind mehr als heißt willkommen, bei mir zu bleiben, würden Anna und Wolfrick von der Firma verblüfft werden. Mein Vater, ah, hartnäckige alte Narrenmieten aus seinem eigenen Ort, aber denkt daran Dieedrik... Wir könnten alle mit einem kleinen Bruch von diesem Krieg machen” he offered generously towards Doctor Vlakte and Doctor Strumfelder, his eyes glancing between the two.

It was a blessing the Sturmbannführer wasn’t as cut up as he looked, but it didn’t take much of a psychologist to fathom him out. Wolfram was bottling it up, his teeth were grinding within the confines of his mouth as a comfort and breathing long winded, calming himself. All he truly cared about, was Wolfrick; Selfish to think that? Maybe, but the Sturmbannführer had little love for his family, he was married to the SS and hardly ever spoke to them. They sent occasional letters, nothing more. Wolfrick was his own flesh and blood on the other hand…


Translations:[/b]

Ich bin sehr erbärmlich für Ihren Verlustdoktor.
~ I am sorely sorry for your loss Doctor.

Thalhaussen, Norden von München. Mein Großvater, Großmutter - nicht jünger als achtzig mit meiner eigenen Mutter sind momentan als Fehlen aufgezeichnet, haben Verstorbene vermutet. Verbrannt wie sie waren. ... Abschaum oder jüdisch!
~ Thalhaussen, North of Munich. My Grandfather, Grandmother - no younger than eighty with my own Mother are currently recorded as missing, presumed dead. Burnt like they were.... scum or Jewish!

Deutsche Parteigänger, unterstützt durch den ruskys zu werden... Ich bin glücklich mein Vater ist momentan in München mit meiner Schwester und jungem Wolfrick. Sie arbeiten - Sie sehen und Wolfrick, mag er den Lastwagen und den Soldaten zuschauen.
~ German Partisans, being aided by the ruskys... I'm lucky my Father is currently in Munich with my sister and young Wolfrick. They're working - you see and Wolfrick, he loves to watch the trucks and soldiers.

Ich habe einen Flug, der für München in zwei Tagen gebucht wird. Liefern Sie die schlechten Nachrichten, aber vielleicht Sie könnten mit dem Bruch Dieedrik machen - Sie auch Erhard. Sie sind mehr als heißt willkommen, bei mir zu bleiben, würden Anna und Wolfrick von der Firma verblüfft werden. Mein Vater, ah, hartnäckige alte Narrenmieten aus seinem eigenen Ort, aber denkt daran Dieedrik... Wir könnten alle mit einem kleinen Bruch von diesem Krieg machen.
~ I have a flight booked for Munich in two days. Deliver the bad news, but maybe you could do with the break Dieedrik - you too Erhard. You are more than welcome to stay at my place, Anna and Wolfrick would be astounded by the company. My Father, ah, stubborn old fool rents out his own place, but do think about it Dieedrik... We could all do with a small break from this war.

[☤Theodorijk Wijzemens]

Sturmbannführer Wolfram’s offer took Dieedrik by surprise. It was unusual for someone, especially a superior, to invite one into one’s own home. Dieedrik sat, blank-faced for a moment, wondering what to say. He knew he needed a rest, and München was known for its wonderful wine and fine German cuisine. He grinned, “Das ist von eur, Sturmbannführer gut. Ich zweifellos benötige einen Rest; wie Erhard tut, kann ich sehen. Wir suchen wie Reklameanzeigen nach Krankheit. Ich würde lieben, nach München mit eur zu gehen, da Sie hinsichtlich geöffneten dein Haus zu uns so rücksichtsvoll bist. Was junges Wolfrick anbetrifft, ich habe eine Ansammlung weniger Bleisoldaten von meiner Jugend, die ich sicher bin, daß er schätzen würde.„ He smiled, feeling better after the thought of some rest from the incessant war-making.

Dieedrik felt a sort of relief from just the thought Munich. He had never been to Munich, since he had spent most of his time in Aachen. The atmosphere of the tavern lightened up, even with the sweaty air becoming the only air in the room. He stuck his head out the window again and looked down at the broken glass on the ground outside the window, “Ich sollte den vermutlich nicht heraus geworfen haben. Gut war es scheißen Kognak irgendwie,” he said in a soft tone, “Kellnerin, holen ein kaltes Lager hierhin!! Es ist Zeit, das Gedächtnis meiner verlorenen Geschwister zu feiern. Ich bin auf der Masse, kann ihre Seelen ihre Weise zu mir rechtzeitig finden allein.„ He wasn’t going to keep his mind in the past. He would just take the edge off with a drink.

Translations:
“Das ist von eur, Sturmbannführer gut. Ich zweifellos benötige einen Rest; wie Erhard tut, kann ich sehen. Wir suchen wie Reklameanzeigen nach Krankheit. Ich würde lieben, nach München mit eur zu gehen, da Sie hinsichtlich geöffneten dein Haus zu uns so rücksichtsvoll bist. Was junges Wolfrick anbetrifft, ich habe eine Ansammlung weniger Bleisoldaten von meiner Jugend, die ich sicher bin, daß er schätzen würde.„
~That's good of you, Sturmbannführer. I certainly do need a rest; as does Erhard, I can see. We look like advertisements for illness. I'd love to go to Munich with you since you are so considerate as to open your home to us. As for young Wolfrick, I have a collection of little lead soldiers from my youth I am sure he would appreciate.

“Ich sollte den vermutlich nicht heraus geworfen haben. Gut war es scheißen Kognak irgendwie,”
~I probably shouldn't have thrown that out. Well, it was shitty cognac anyway.

“Kellnerin, holen ein kaltes Lager hierhin!! Es ist Zeit, das Gedächtnis meiner verlorenen Geschwister zu feiern. Ich bin auf der Masse, kann ihre Seelen ihre Weise zu mir rechtzeitig finden allein.„
~Waitress, bring a cold lager over here!! It's time to celebrate the memory of my lost siblings. I am alone on the earth, may their souls find their way to me in good time.

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Strumfelder watched his CO intently, slightly taken aback by the offer. What was he drinking?! His wife was six weeks due, and he had never been to Munich. He partly wondered though if Wolfram was going to use it as an excuse to see his family’s resting place. How Fleischer had described the villagers’ death was completely vile; he felt sympathetic towards the Major. Erhard had never really understood the hatred there was towards the Slavic people, but actions like these did little to improve the situation. It was as if the Slavs wanted the situation to degrade! He saw resistance attacks as cowardly. They might slow down the enemy for a few days, maybe a week, but would never have any lasting impact, except the death and unrest they caused. They had been defeated; why not just except it and move on?

He’d heard of the Major’s son only once before, who had just come up in casual conversation. Nobody had yet met him, Wolfram was somebody who didn’t seem to have a family. He could have been a machine that the SS had brought in by the way he acted. But a son made him sound that little bit more human, and maybe he was beginning to warm to the two Doctors.

“Danke, Herr Strumbannfuhrer. Ich bin nicht auf einer Reise für Monate gewesen. Ich könnte mit einigen Tagen entfernt tun und ein bloßer Tourist, unter den Gebäuden von München gerade sein. Ich höre, dass sie die pathetische Bombardierung recht gut überlebt haben.” He answered, seeing as Vlakte was gain. He wouldn’t mind seeing the boy. If he was going to be a father himself soon, he could pick up a few tricks.



Translations:

“Danke, Herr Strumbannfuhrer. Ich bin nicht auf einer Reise für Monate gewesen. Ich könnte mit einigen Tagen entfernt tun und ein bloßer Tourist, unter den Gebäuden von München gerade sein. Ich höre, dass sie die pathetische Bombardierung recht gut überlebt haben.”
~ Thank you, Herr Strumbannfuhrer. I have not been on a trip for months. I could do with a few days away, just being a mere tourist, among the buildings of Munich. I hear they have survived the pathetic bombing pretty well.

[PuNk! ™]

Moderation Post:[/b]

Closed due to Inactivity & Request (Has not ended properly / 1 PAGE)

Captain Wolfram: 10CP

Doctor Vlakte: 10CP

Doctor Strumfelder: 10CP

- Threads ending on short notice or prior to their finish line, will encounter less CP. Some new rules will be added soon, due to the unfortunate position of inactive/unfinished threads, earning the amount of CP as of that to a properly finished thread.

This includes BATTLE Threads also.

~Danny[/color]