*Golodkowski's Execution* (Golodkowski allowed)

[MAJ Patterson]

The morning would have been a beautiful one, but the deed that need be accomplished loomed ahead. The sleep prior would have been greatly welcomed, but Patterson had yet to hear of Staff Sergeant Brennan's return. The preparation would have been some silent time well needed to prepare mentally, but the prison was never short of loud people. The bullet would have been for honorable use on the battlefield, but it's fate had been sealed by the ill advised actions of one German soldier.

"Stand up, turn around and place your hands on the wall!" The guard stated to the prisoner so that they could safely enter the cell and place him in restraints. Golodkowski had been sentenced to death for his actions in the woodlands of France and no negotiations had even been attempted by his former unit. The man was doomed and there was now no time for anyone to do anything about it. "Find Staff Sergeant Brennan immediately, do not return until you have him with you. understood?" Patterson said to Private Pepper before turning to face the prisoner. Pepper nodded swiftly and then set out at full sprint to try and locate Staff Sergeant Brennan as quickly as he could.

Patterson was offering the honor of pulling the trigger at this execution to the man he had served in this war with the longest, also one of the men in the battle when Golodkowski was captured. I do hope he made it in last night. I despise paperwork, but it helps if you ever have to see court time. He thought as he looked at his watch, if things went to plan Golodkowski would only be alive for another twelve minutes. The Allies could then be through with him and continue on with the war effort. Damn formalities, should have just shot him there and been done with it. He shook his head very slightly then raised it and coughed quietly to set his gaze upon Golodkowski.

There were three other guards there as well, making the total number of his escort five men, seven if Pepper returned with Brennan. It was early and the usual fog that is spread across the lower elevated part of the base had just started to dissipate. The courtyard that would hold up Golodkowski's last steps was starting to come into focus. The flood lights had been turned on, if there were any prisoners still wanting the Allies to win, they would get a morale boost, any prisoners from the Axis side would find it hard to swallow at breakfast, and the prisoners that did not care, would either keep sleeping, or watch simply for a change of pace.

[commissartrotsky]

OOC: No, I haven’t disappeared into cyberspace, and yes, I have been watching you lot. The shop looks good Danny, BTW.

Golodkowski knew he had seen his last sunrise form his barred cell window. But when one considers one’s fate, it raises many questions. That lone charge. What was it worth? His life? The Russian thought of himself as a brave warrior, raring to kill in almost anyone’s name. But... Had he ever contemplated this? Death in battle was one thing, death by execution was something else entirely. But who could he blame for his situation now? The American’s seemed an obvious choice; they were pulling the triggers. Golodkowski looked deeper. What about Wolfie? The man who he’d tried to impress, but had been nothing more than a Bolshevik, wanting complete fairness. He was meant to be a Fascist for Christ’s sake! Nazario? If he had been prepared to take the initiative in that skirmish, would his senior NCO now be facing death? What about his men? If they had done their duty more thoroughly... No matter how many times Golodkowski played the idea round his skull, the same final answer appeared. One person was to blame, and that was himself.

The American’s actions were just. They were doing exactly what he would have done. Wolfram was right too. Who wanted a drunken oaf of a man as their senior NCO? Nazario? He probably saw what was coming and stayed well away. Who could blame him? And his men? Well, they were all with God now, and by this day’s end. He would join them. But if he had learnt one thing form war, and his life, it was this. One in a million, is still a decent chance And he wanted to play that chance today. There was no last cigarette for him. He wouldn’t let himself be shot freely. He didn’t know how he was going to go about it, but he would, some how.

Golodkowski was removed from his cell and trudged down towards the courtyard. How many dead men had walked these corridors, he wondered? Ten, twenty, one hundred? He thought of Russian poems, and of proverbs. Of what he was, or had been, fighting for.

He was lead into a small space, and let himself be placed into restraints. He felt like Harry Houdini. Golodkowski turned at looked into the captain’s eyes, as he gazed into his own. He opened on hand, and put it forwards for the officer to shake. It had been a well played game, but it was not over quite yet...

[Daniel Brennan]

Arn't people usually executed by a firing squad? I don't particularily want Daniel to be the sole executioner, so can I just say that there will be two other NPCs there?

Daniel slowly walked through the hallways. God, this prison block was so big. He was on his way to an execution. Yes, it would be hard to think of a glooier event. He had only been back a short while and he had only been informed a few hours ago that he had been chosen to be a member of the firing squad. He glanced at a watch and quickened up his pace a small bit. He didn't want to postpone the prisoners agony... or did he? The man did deserve what was coming to him. He had murdered a seriously injured man in cold blood. Daniel still shivered at the thought of Private Webb's gruesome death.

He rounded a corner and was nearly ran into by a running Private Pepper. "Captain, needs you right away, execution, you have to come quick!" babbled the man. "Yes, I know about the execution. I was just coming." He answered without expression in his voice. He was still thinking about what was to come. He continued on walking with Private Pepper beside him. He had a standard issue rifle in his hand. As a show of contempt, he had borrowed this rifle from the weapons depot, rather than use his BAR. He wouldn't waste those valuable bullets on a prisoner such as this. Although he was full of contempt for the man, Golodkowski, he did have room for a little pity. The man was going out of the world in a cruel way; knowing his fate. It was much easier in battle, where you knew there was a chance you might die, but also a chance you might live. This was different; much different.

He came Captain Patterson and saluted. "I'm here sir," he said quietly. The two other men of the firing squad were already there, it appeared. He glanced at the prisoner and saw that he was putting out his hand for Patterson to shake. He figured he might as well shake the prisoners hand too. He stuck at his hand in the direction of the prisoner.

[MAJ Patterson]

Patterson turned and walked behind the two guards that had a firm grip on Golodkowski, with the other two behind him, he looked over his shoulder as he heard Private Pepper speak in the distance and was glad to hear Brennan's voice reply. They walked at a slow pace, can't think of anyone that would rush to their execution. They had made it about twenty yards into the courtyard "Thats far enough..." Patterson said as he gazed about the courtyard, the prison block had grown eerily silent, it always did when they walked a prisoner into THAT courtyard "...attach his restraints there." Patterson ordered as he pointed to a small post in the ground with a chain hanging from it with an iron loop at the end. The guards did as they were told, they never seemed to talk much during these things.

Golodkowski held out his hand, Patterson didn't know what for, was he thanking him, showing a sign of respect or what. Staff Sergeant Brennan entered the courtyard as they finished attaching the restraints to the post. Brennan approached Golodkowski to return the hand shake. Brennan walked directly by Patterson to do so and Patterson, without taking his gaze off of Golodkowski, stiffly locked out his right arm and caught Brennan in the chest, he coiled his fingers a bit around the slack in the man's uniform. "Sergeant, if you would like to shake the prisoner's hand, that is your business, but you will not approach him with a weapon in your care, set it to the side in that locker before you do so." Patterson shifted hi glance only for a moment toward the locker before resting it once again on the doomed. He had yet to even look at Brennan, not out of a bad mood, but damned men tended to get imaginative.

Patterson had no intentions of granting Golodkowski any last bit of joy, granted the man was set to die by firing squad, if he tried anything before his time, Patterson would end it himself without a moments thought. He had the other four rifles to be used in the execution in the other locker behind him. The guards not having them needed to be supplied. Patterson had the rounds in the chambers of the weapons substituted with blanks, the rest of them were live full metal jackets, just in case. The point of a firing squad is that no one was to know who actually killed the doomed, but he was only to be shot once through the heart, Patterson would know, and the Staff Sergeant would know when it was over. If he wanted to share his information he could, as far as Patterson was concerned, it was better if it was kept as is and forgotten about.

He looked at the Sergeant of the guard and motioned his head to the rear, the Sergeant nodded and did the same to each of his men. The Sergeant unlocked the locker and handed the rifles to the rest of the guards, grabbing the last one himself. They all opened the bolts and slid them back only a mere inch to see if they were loaded. They had all done this before, they knew how it worked as well, they never wanted to know who fired the shot, just so long as the deed was done.

[commissartrotsky]

Why were ‘Dead men’ always considered to be useless? Golodkowski believed them to be even more dangerous than a live man, because they will try literally anything. If they are already to pay the ultimate price, what sanction can you impose on them? Nothing. The Russian’s gaze met the imposing eyes of the Captain’s in front of him. The American was looking at him as if he was his sworn enemy. He, he supposed.
“You seem, a little on edge, Captain.” Golodkowski smiled. For over two weeks now, he had been ignorant to English. It provided mild entertain ment how the Allies had attempted to find him a translator, and when they finally did, listening to how they discussed his replies. These seven works seemed to slightly shock the courtyard. But the Russian had far more to say. “Why, do you think I am a threat? The man who you see before you, in chains, when you have all the guns, is a threat? I... I am flattered Captain. Or do you believe your Staff Sergeant to be a clumsy fool, who cannot handle his weapon? I would prefer the first option, a puny yank scared of a brave Russian bear, but I suppose you lot are known for your distinct lack of dexterity. Maybe if you concentrate, you’ll only have to expend twenty to thirty rounds. If not, I think I still have some shrapnel in my heal. Maybe you can fashion a bullet out of that, and then put it into my head?” The Russian’s smile widened, enjoying the show he was putting on. If he was going to die, he’d at least enjoy it! “Oh, I very nearly forgot. I believe I am yet to take my last puff, no? Please, spare me the torture of one of your cigarettes. I want Russian paper between my lips when I die. I have just one left, in my left breast pocket. They are thirty years old, you know? From before the revolution. Am I aloud that one, very last luxury?”

[devros1]

Tom gripped the rifle with both hands as he received it it was lighter than his M1 Garand but it was still a good gun he looked over at the other men they had all grim expressions and Tom was glad this wasn't a celebration it was a execution. If he saw someone smile he would had have had a go at them it was a stupid thing to do. Even thought it was a beautifully morning the prisoners death would still be grim. He had volunteered for the gob in the firing squad and now he knew why almost no one had done the same it was a grim.
He looked at the German with a blank expression he was a fool from what he had heard the man had intentionally threw himself into a building and had lost three men in the process and killed a wounded soldier. How low can you get? Tom thought when he had heard the news the man was clearly delusioned and now he saw him Tom could confirm he suspicions.

“You seem, a little on edge, Captain.” he heard the prisoner say

“Why, do you think I am a threat? The man who you see before you, in chains, when you have all the guns, is a threat? I... I am flattered Captain. Or do you believe your Staff Sergeant to be a clumsy fool, who cannot handle his weapon? I would prefer the first option, a puny yank scared of a brave Russian bear, but I suppose you lot are known for your distinct lack of dexterity. Maybe if you concentrate, you’ll only have to expend twenty to thirty rounds. If not, I think I still have some shrapnel in my heal. Maybe you can fashion a bullet out of that, and then put it into my head?” The Russian’s smile widened.

“Oh, I very nearly forgot. I believe I am yet to take my last puff, no? Please, spare me the torture of one of your cigarettes. I want Russian paper between my lips when I die. I have just one left, in my left breast pocket. They are thirty years old, you know? From before the revolution. Am I aloud that one, very last luxury?”

Tom grunted the man was a idiot Tom hoped that he could die as well as he could speak.

[Daniel Brennan]

Although Daniel had thought his Captain's attention was fixed solely on the prisoner, an arm was stuck out, hitting him on the chest and causing him to admit a faint "Oof". He nodded at the order, even though he didn't think it was neccesary at all. What could the prisoner do? Even if he did manage to grab a rifle then, he would be shot dead, quick as a flash; Bang. But still, he reasoned. It would give Golodkowski that bit of satisfaction before he died, to cause some trouble. He knew he was going to die, unless some miracle happened, so he might just think that there was no point in being good and that he should just cause hassle for the sake of it.

He shoved his rifle into the locker, carefuly closing the door behind him and he walked back over to the prisoner. He was about to offer his hand again for Golodkowski to shake, when the man started up on some death speech. Of course, Daniel hadn't even seen the prisoner since the day he was captured, so he wasn't the slightest bit amazed that the man was speaking fluently in english. He listened half heartidly to the man drone on about how he thought Patterson was nervous and how Americans were all useless idiots and then he asked for a last smoke... With his own ciggarettes? Why hadn't they been taken off him?

Daniel just ignored the question; he waited for Patterson to answer. The man was making him angry again. He swiftly walked back over to the locker and purposefuly took his rifle back out. He then stood back behind the crowd and watched the goings on. He wondered what Patteron was going to say about the smoke.

[MAJ Patterson]

Patterson stood there as he heard the Staff Sergeant place his rifle in the locker and walk back over, only to seem annoyed by the ranting of Golodkowski. He then heard Brennan retrieve his rifle and the left side of Patterson's mouthed curled up a bit as he let out a quiet Hmmph" and nodded his head in the very slightest. Odd how he seems to think we are such pathetic human beings and yet he is our prisoner. Patterson's thought kept the small smirk smeared on his face for another half second before stepping to the side and looking at the Sergeant of the guard "Line them up, Sergeant. Brennan, take a spot in the line if you don't mind, your choice." He figured Brennan might want to back the line up, just to show Golodkowski how inept the American's were.

Patterson placed his weapon into the locker that Brennan had used for a short moment, closed it behind him and strolled over to the prisoner. Patterson lifted his foot and planted it squarely into the back of Golodkowski's knee while reaching around with his left hand and taking a firm one handed hug onto the man's throat, pulling back to keep his balance off. Patterson reached around with his free hand into the man's left breast pocket, pulling out a cigarette "What do you know, you aren't full of lies." He stated as he twisted to his right and letting go with his left hand, using his shoulder to thrust the man's back forward, to avoid any retaliation. "Oddly enough, I have a medic that smokes. He might find this a nice treat, but should he despise it, I'll make sure to send what is left of the charred cigarette back to Germany with your body." He explained his plan as he walked back to the locker and pulled his weapon from it. Yanking the sling up onto his shoulder he slid the smoke into his own left breast pocket as he watched the men line up for the task at hand.

[riley]

It hadn't been long since the Lieutenant had arrived back from France along with Brennan and the men they had fought along side in that small cabin in the middle of the French woodlands. Now they all had wound up in a prison block, awaiting to watch the execution of one German soldier they had taken prisoner during the skirmish. Riley had even discovered that Brennan had been chosen to be among the firing squad to execute the prisoner. No German negotiations were received for this man, and he had been charged with the murder of a Private Webb. Riley remembered when he crawled across that rooftop only to discover the men cruelly murdering a helpless soldier and the anger that had exploded inside him. This German would deserve this death. It was a pity Riley would not be one of the few delivering his punishment.

Riley arrived in the courtyard to find a gathering of soldiers already there, Patterson and Brennan included. Having not seen either of these men for quite sometime Riley waved and smiled, before approaching them and staring at the man before them who was going on some rant about how the Americans were weak. "Strange... you would think if someone was weaker then you, they wouldn't be able to take you prisoner? I guess your logic is flawed." Riley blurted out, wondering if the prisoner would recognize his voice. He could imagine someone would be quite angry if one of the men who had captured them and brought this faith upon them, was mocking them. Riley thought maybe this German deserved that too.

[commissartrotsky]

OOC: I’ve enjoyed my time here. It’s been good. I don’t think people will mind me God-Modding my own death. It’s only what would have happened (P.S. Himmler died this way.)

Golodkowski allowed himself to be tugged around a bit. Give the baby what its wants. He smirked slightly as his cigarette was taken from him. “Make sure your Medic keeps it tight between his lips.” It was a minor annoyance, but a clever man always has a back up plan, and for the Russian, it was concealed in his tooth. How stupid were the Americans if they thought they would deal the final blow? Golodkowski wouldn’t have it. There were absolute idiots, knowing nothing about the German way of war. It was a culture in itself, fighting for the Third Reich, a way of life. They were the Knights Teutons. A new breed. And what were the Allies? Trigger happy schoolboys who want to show off, and believe they have an answer for everything. But they were uncultured. Farm boys who came from their sister’s womb, and fed off their daughter’s milk. No wonder they were so dense.

The Sergeant-Major turned to the cocky Lieutenant. “It takes one thousand ants to swarm a lion. The ant alone is a pathetic being, and can only draw strength in numbers.” Golodkowski now addressed the entire courtyard. “You men are cold hearted killers. You are shooting a perfectly healthy man who is unarmed. I was killing an armed and fatally wounded man in the field. He was already going to die painfully, and, with no medic in sight, I granted him his final luxury, in death. But, I say you are going to shoot. You are not, but you are just prepared to. The only hands to which my death will be at, is my own. Depay Imperskogo Erossiy!!!” Golodkowski roared.

Without a seconds notice, he bit down hard on a back molar. It was a weak false tooth which was hallow. Potassium Cyanide poured into his mouth, and within seconds attacked his body. Ten seconds later Golodkowski went limp. Schalck Golodkowski was dead.

[devros1]

OOC: '(P.S. Himmler died this way.)' no hi did not he deleted his account! and why do you have to be such a coward and kill yourself now? you had the chanse earlier and sorry this post iss short gyes i have to go the holiday now

Tom watched as he saw the prisoner took the Potassium Cyanide but before he could react the prisoner was dead. The speach was pathetic Tom thought the man was a sure lunatic he probebly only thought that to win a battle he had to kill his own men. He walked over to the body overwhelmed by anger and spat on his dead rotten corpse and muttered

"coward"

As he walked of in anger.

[Daniel Brennan]

What a sec... Since when could you buy Pottasium Cyanide in the shop? And he meant the real person, Tom. Not the member on here.

[commissartrotsky]

Many SS men had hollowed out teeth which contained Pottassium Cyanide, if they were placed in a situation where taking a conventional Cyandie phile was impossible, they would just have to bite hard on the tooth.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post

The following CP has been issued:

Patterson - 7CP

Riley - 3CP

Brennan - 6CP

Edwards - 4CP