Week 1, progress report

[⊕ Edzard Crimm]

It had been a long week to put it gently, the men were already starting to look like rag dolls and one of the regulars had possibly broken his foot when he dropped a box of bolts, but it was better him than a mechanic. In a non morbid way Edzard had felt proud that he was able to think of the idea of having a few regulars around to do the laboring before that happened. He knew he would be running the men into the ground to produce great results for his Captain.

"There we go, how about the other side, coming along?" They had just finished replacing all the iron rods in the treads of the beast with steel ones, they were lighter and they were stronger. It wouldn't have too much of an effect on her acceleration, but she would be less apt to break down when they needed her.

The first three days of the week had been spent going through the manuals, once he had realized the iron tread pins he order replacements from the machine shop down the road a bit. The new pins had come in just a few hours earlier and they set about with changing them immediately. At first it was a time consuming process, but after the first few, they figured it out and were able to move through the rest of them in a timely fashion. He had also noticed that the pivoting points for the turret were not the best made and it would be too easy to get the turret jammed in one position if it took a good hit in the rear. That was his next task to tackle.

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

Walking along briskly, the Hauptsturmführer found himself humming beneath his breath, happily enjoying the escape from the office quarters and training yard - the training predominately being for himself, privately, but of course when it wasn’t, the men were being dragged through the mud under his command on how to appropriately infiltrate and storm enemy sectors with swift cutting edge. His storm-troopers had to be taught accordingly, speed was the key and cutting at the jugular was the other! Rafael did abide by the textbook game, but he also knew by first hand experience, it had many flaws and the human initiative had to make up for it half of the time - it was the least he could pass down to his subordinates on survival, the rest was up to them.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, the Hauptsturmführer stood at the garage door and began to wonder on the progress to his Tiger-Tank was going, but he was also unsure on the early appointment he was making himself. A week, well, it wasn’t very long time at all to see changes happening, but none the less, he had to make sure the workforce given to the Unteroffizier (Sergeant) in amending the Tank’s superiority was all going well. It was standard protocol by his procedure and it was only right, heck, for all he knew, they could be slacking off and using this as a big excuse to avoid training or preparing for the upcoming battles ahead.

So surprisingly, he hoped, he unexpectedly pushed against the hard garage door with his gloved hand and silently stepped in. Everyone seemed to be busy and the noise of the work was a good deterrent to his presence being there - no one bounced to their feet to salute and no one acknowledged him. Grinning to himself mischievously, he gradually slid out from behind the door and closed it behind him almost as quick as he passed through it, glancing around slowly, before taking heed in walking towards his fine young girl.

“Dort Dort…” he muttered out quietly, as he softly patted his hand against the exterior of the tank, before he twisted upon his heels to slowly walk around it, a few of the man dropping their tools in the process as they surprisingly juttered within their place to salute and stand straight with a “Herr Hauptsturmführer!”[/b] - Rafael nodded, before looking around for the Unteroffizier, not quite being able to figure out where he was…


Translations:[/b]
Dort Dort...
~ There There

[⊕ Edzard Crimm]

Edzard gave the last quick twist to the bolt and reached for his small tool box just behind him under the tank as well. All of a sudden he heard some tools hit the hard floor and he looked out from under the front of the beast. "What the..." He was about to move when he heard someone acknowledge the presence of Captain Wolfram. Edzard scurried from under the tank and got to his feet as quickly as he could.

CLANG

He rammed his head into the underbelly of the beast as he crawled out "Son of a..." he caught himself before he brought to much attention. "Captain! I apologize for not noticing your entrance sir." he was mentally kicking himself as he stood straight, wishing his uniform wasn't so dirty. He looked about from the corners of his eyes and saw that the rest of the men had about the same look to them. Well he can't say we haven't been working.

He was glad to see the man. At least it showed he cared about them, or at least the tank. That was probably the main reason, but he still liked to hope. At least he would be able to give the Captain a good report. More dependability at the cost of a privates foot, and only a temporary injury at that. But the manuals were still not completely known in the minds of the men, but they knew they had to do something other than read if they wanted to get the job done. They had noticed just the day prior that there was a way to reposition the antenna to get better reception and range, but it wouldn't lose too much of it's ability to be concealed, so the enemy infantry couldn't just run up and cut it off. These would all be minor improvements, they didn't have the skill or the resources for any major ones, at least not yet. But every little bit helps.

[commissartrotsky]

Golodkowski winced as he stepped forward, a brass tipped walking cane in his left hand, its lion headed features denied to him by a pair of black leather gloves. He’d harmed his leg slightly, probably not enough to justify the cane, but he enjoyed the opportunity to brandish it. From a distance, he’d observed his new C.O. entering the ‘Lair’, where the beast was kept, or their prised tank. Golodkowski wondered if they’d even seen one before, judging by the amount of time they seemed to spent in its presence. Anyway, he knew that it was always important to make a big splash the first time you meet your C.O.

The Golodkowski family had once been part of the Russian aristocracy, and many of his forefathers had served as officers in the Imperial Army, some even as officers in the Cossacks. Officially, Schalck was only a SS-Sturmscharführer, but he felt himself an officer, and expected to be treated as one. He’d even managed to slip into the Officers quarters before, the guard believing that nobody under an officer would be turned out so well and brandish that much wealth.

Golodkowski ran his right hand over his sleek black hair, checking it was still in place, then hobbled over to the garage door, making sure every soldier in a mile noticed him. Slowly he swung the door open, revealing a scene of toy soldiers all standing at attention in front of their little general. Several pairs of eyes focused on him and he smiled.

He gave a gentle salute, before wandering over to the men. “It’s a beautiful piece of equipment, isn’t it? But if your lot are constantly tweaking with it Wolfram, you’ll never be able to use it when you need to!” He burst out laughing in his deep Russian voice. He wandered over to Hauptsturmführer and gave him a squeeze. “No, no, I’m just joking with you. Like I always say ‘if something’s not broken, its still fix-able’.” He looked up at the pale face next to him. Now to really turn on the Golodkowski charm. “What you need Wolfie, is some thick Russian broth and a slosh of something. I know this place where you can get the best 1840’s Ukrainian vodka, full stop.” Now if that wasn’t a big splash, nothing was. He could feel a promotion coming straight for him.

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

The Hauptsturmführer continued to quietly observe the garage, his eyes dwindling from one man to another, who all in turn seemed to stiffen up and acknowledge him; Course, this was standard procedure with a Officer around, but waving his hand out some, he muttered “Bequem, geht zurück, zu arbiter”, the men sharing a profound look somewhat as they hesitantly moved from off their spots again, unsure to whether it was a trick or not. Least they wanted, was punishment of some kind, for not being respectful and acknowledging their Superior’s presence.

Almost jumping a little from the surprise of the Unterscharführer Suddenly appearing in front of him and apologising for the lack of quick salutes and what-not upon his unannounced visit, Rafael wavered his hand up and muttered out “Yar Yar, das ist feiner Unterscharführer, unternehmen ich nur, wie die Arbeit zu sehen, und ob Sie mehr partielle Elemente für die Arbeit Sie erfordern, bin vorbeigekommen geht?” he said with a vivid smile, feeling happy to see the one true piece of weaponry and equipment beneath his command that could make a significant difference to their fortitude and fighting upon the soon-to-be frontlines.

Awaiting some kind of response, beyond the clacking and clunking that emerged again, another presence entered the garage a few of the soldiers stopped to astound the new intimidating looking presence with a salute or such; Hauptsturmführer Wolfram narrowed his eyes and intently listened as his name slurred from the male’s voice, before eventually he wandered into his general direction and muttered out he was only joking, something Hauptsturmführer Wolfram didn’t do much off… Then the male began to sputter out on where he could get some vintage vodka, almost as if the man himself could possibly be the dealer? Wriggling his way into Hauptsturmführer’s Wolfram’s pocket subtly

“Sturmscharführer, Was ist Ihr Name?” questioned the Hauptsturmführer coldly, as he stood there, feeling quite interrupted by his presence. His eyes lisping over the man’s fine tucked tunic and cane, as if he were dear Heinrich Himmler himself; more so, he soon acknowledged the WolfsAngel insignia of the ‘Das Reich’ - Hauptsturmführer Wolfram’s body grew cold, was this man apart of his Division and he didn’t even know about it? Reaching out and tugging at the Sturmscharführer’s collar a little, he rubbed his thumb over the stitched insignia in a bid effort to see whether it would fall away from a man-made effort to stitch it on, suspicious of the husk man’s presence, wondering whether he were an intruder or phoney. “Da Reich eh?” he questioned further, glaring at the NCO through the slit of eyes, before dropping his hand back down beside himself and watching the male. “Während es steht, ist Sturmscharführer, ich Ihr befehlender Offizier und Sie werden mich nicht bezeichnen als Wolfie... und als für jenen Wodka gut vielleicht Sie könnten mich zu einigen behandeln” he said firmly to begin with, but softened his tone towards the end, grinning towards the Sturmscharführer in a way that inclined a good drink was on the table for the two…





Translations:[/b]

Bequem, geht zurück, zu arbiter
~ At ease, go back to work

Yar Yar, das ist feiner Unterscharführer, unternehmen ich nur, wie die Arbeit zu sehen, und ob Sie mehr partielle Elemente für die Arbeit Sie erfordern, bin vorbeigekommen geht?
~ Yar Yar, that's fine Unterscharführer, I have only come by to see how the work is going and whether you require anymore partial elements for the work you're undertaking?

Sturmscharführer, Was ist Ihr Name?
~ Sturmscharführer, what is your name?

Während es steht, ist Sturmscharführer, ich Ihr befehlender Offizier und Sie werden mich nicht bezeichnen als Wolfie... und als für jenen Wodka gut vielleicht Sie könnten mich zu einigen behandeln.
~ As it stands, Sturmscharführer, I am your commanding Officer and you will not refer to me as Wolfie... and as for that Vodka, well, maybe you could treat me to some.

[⊕ Edzard Crimm]

Edzard slackened his posture as the great Captain had said, he also asked if they needed anything else to complete their job. "Well sir, out torch is running low on fuel, we can handle getting it but since you asked I figured I would let you know sir." He paused as he waited for the Captain to acknowledge his answer then he bent back down and crawled under the tank and set about replacing the last few bolts and tightening the tracks back up on the good ol' girl.

He saw an unfamiliar face walk in as he started under the girl. He had some weight to his collar but looked as if he thought it should have been heavier. Edzard paid him no attention as he had already been told by a higher rank to carry on with his work. "Dietrich, you found out how we can get the turret off yet?" He had tasked the man with the temporary beheading of the beast so that they could strengthen the rails she used as a neck. Dietrich replied stating that he had found the chapter int he manual, but there were no specific directions to removing it. "Well looks as if we are gonna have to tinker with her neck a bit, let's not try to get her too turned on!" He laughed a bit. They all tried to keep the mood light in the garage. They all knew spending so much time together that nerves were bound to be strained, and eating oil and grit stained sandwiches every day was starting to get on everyone's nerves as well.

Edzard stood back up "Sir if you have another moment, would be nice to get a sink in here. Our lunches seem to always taste like oil and dirt, sir." He held his head somewhat low as he stated his request to the Captain. He knew it was a luxury to have a sink and a small complaint, but it had already been a solid week of them and was bound to be a few more weeks of them.

[commissartrotsky]

OOC: This will probably close this thread, unless someone can come up with a new direction for it to go.

The Russian was surprised by the officer’s reaction. So at least now he knew the man fitted his completion. Wolfram scrutinised him, as if he were a mere ant. Golodkowski wondered how his superior would look with his cane up his white little arse. No, the cane was worth too much.

The man wanted his name, then scolded him for being so casual. So the SS were good little schoolboys, just like he’d heard. ‘Yes, sir. No, sir. Three bags full, sir’ He hated that filth of the world that believed they were higher than him, even though they were just commoners. People that lived in tiny little town houses, or state blocks of flats, just like in Moscow, or Leningrad or Novgorod. Filth, absolute filth. He stared at the man in front of him. A near perfect specimen.

Golodkowski had his views, but he knew the score. He could think anything about the pathetic virgin in front of him, but if he was going to get up the rank ladder it was that virgin that was going to get him there. “My name is Schalck Golodkowski, and I am your new NCO, my friend. I would be happy to treat you to the vodka, but I warn you it is very strong.”

He looked down at the men who were now toiling like Bolsheviks over their one village bicycle. He looked up to Wolfram’s steel blue eyes and smiled. “But, just for now, my friend,” Golodkowski reached into his uniform tunic, and drew out a brown and silver flask. “St. Petersburg, from 1917, the vodka from our prised cabinet when we fled. There is little of it left, but I always carry a little. Warms the heart, and the soul.” Golodkowski smiled, taking a long swig.

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

OOC: What makes you think this thread will close so easy?


The Hauptsturmführer stared at the Sturmscharführer quietly, as if working him out. The man looked nothing more than a nine-pence, something the British would call ‘pompass’ and full of arrogance. Well, the male before himself looked the perfect specimen of that; Someone who’d rat their way to the top and suck up to all the big bold spectacled men of the SS. He’d have to keep a close eye on this one, he could ill afford a reckless and arrogant officer within his Division. Perhaps he were just better off getting rid of him now? He stunk of alcohol and cheap wine, or was that lipstick?

Hauptsturmführer Wolfram grimaced within as the male referred to him as ‘his friend’, more so when he continued to refer to his superior as a mere friend, but then he truly did cross the line, as a small flask emerged, just to top off the alcoholic smelling breath that illuminated from the Sturmscharführer . “Sturmscharführer, reframe von Beruf mich Sie Freund, kennen Sie kaum mich, und wenn Sie sind, mein so genannt „NCO“ zu sein, würde ich Sie schätzen, Ihren Leber zu behalten, zu reinigen und Ihr Gemüt befreit von Getränken” he said briskly, hoping the Officer would put away his flask and straighten up in front of the men - they already seemed to dauntingly shed stiff looks towards his direction.

Turning away from the Sturmscharführer, he watched as Unterscharführer Crimm stood again, making a more than tangible request. “Ich werde zu ihm Unterscharführer sehen, werden Sie einige sauberen Wässer haben, zu benutzen” he said with a timid smirk, before looking upon the Tiger Tank again, only praying it’s overhaul will turn out for the better. They were to hit the frontlines real soon, the work must be accomplished by then…


Translations:[/b]

Sturmscharführer, reframe von Beruf mich Sie Freund, kennen Sie kaum mich, und wenn Sie sind, mein so genannt „NCO“ zu sein, würde ich Sie schätzen, Ihren Leber zu behalten, zu reinigen und Ihr Gemüt befreit von Getränken
~ Sturmscharführer, reframe from calling me you friend, you hardly know me and if you're to be my so-called 'NCO', I'd appreciate you keeping your liver clean and your mind free from beverages

Ich werde zu ihm Unterscharführer sehen, werden Sie einige sauberen Wässer haben, zu benutzen.
~ I will see to it Unterscharführer, you will have some clean water to use.

[commissartrotsky]

Jun 11, 2008 20:30:22 GMT ∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram said:

he said briskly, hoping the Officer would put away his flask and straighten up in front of the men - they already seemed to dauntingly shed stiff looks towards his direction.

OOC: I’m loving this! And see, you do think of me as an officer!

Blind ignorance. That was the way to get through these situations. Golodkowski bit his tongue and had to rethink what he was going to say. The pale face stick of a man in front of him seemed to be more of a thug, just with rank and a weapon. No class, just the illusion that he had it. And every army needs class, but every army also needed footsloggers, and this man seemed the sort you’d stick in front of machine gun. Golodkowski, he was the class that this place needed. He was handsome, yes carrying some extra padding, but charming and very likeable. This officer wasn’t intelligent enough to see it, that was all.

“Wolfie, you are such a joker, my friend, just like the men told me you were. My liver is just fine; I am Russian after all. And intoxicated is the custom way all great warriors charged into battle years ago. Dulls the pain, you see,” Golodkowski said, laughing slightly. How idiotic did he appear now? “And I believed the Waffen SS to be great warriors, so I feel it appropriate. Anyway, these plebs here can fetch their own clean water. You obviously appear a man of stature that shouldn’t be running errands for pathetic engineers. Now, you are to come with me, and we can drink Ukrainian until the morning dawn.” How many times had he just lied?

The man had probably never been drunk in his life, and certainly never in front of his men. He would be a laughing stock if the men saw him, the sober Golodkowski, carrying in a sleeping, drawling Wolfram. Why had he been blessed with a great brain, as well as such dashing looks?

[⊕ Edzard Crimm]

Edzard listened as the Unterscharfuhrer bellowed on and continued to disgrace the uniform they all wore. Is this guy kidding? He might not respect the man, but to have that much weight on his collar he must know you still had to respect the rank. Edzard shuddered inside, listening, waiting to see if the Hauptsturmfuhrer might crack this guy in the jaw if he kept on. Edzard nodded slightly "Thank you sir." He replied as he was told that the sink would not be an issue.

Edzard listened all he could This guy couldn't keep the hours we are and still accomplish the simplest of tasks, he would probably fall in trying to piss, seeing as how he would have to sit to do so. Edzard smiled to himself as he knelt to crawl back under the behemoth. How can the Captain take this, he must be boiling inside. Edzard picked up and wrench and returned to his feet, he stepped slightly toward the Hauptsturmfuhrer. He whispered under his breath so only the Hauptsturmfuhrer could hear him. "Sir, with all due respect, just the slightest of nods and I'll ease the madness to your ears, all of our ears, sir." He gripped the wrench until his knuckles were white.

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

OOC: I actually was getting tired of putting in Sturmscharführer every now and again, so don’t kid yourself.


Pathetic seemed to be an understatement of the male before him, but so did the term Ignorant. Hauptsturmführer Wolfram couldn’t even imagine the Sturmscharführer before him in battle, he seemed the type that was reared through a Jewish family with nine wives, bit of a mummy’s boy? Heh he thought to himself, grinning subtly to himself as he glared upon the boy at hand, full of himself to his heart’s content, he was even beginning to doubt the flask even had anything in it now -- the Sturmscharführer didn’t look the type to drink.

As the man opened his mouth and verbally spoke down to the Hauptsturmführer again, Rafael’s hands began to coil into tight fitted balls and more so, he seemed to think Alcohol was the medicine to fighting? How foolish. “Sturmscharführer, wenn Sie weiter einen Mangel der Rücksicht für Ihren befehlenden Offizier zeigen, werde ich zu ihm sehen, dass Sie jene Zunge haben, die auf Ihren Mastdarm geschoben wird! Sie werden mich als Hauptsturmführer Wolfram und nichts weniger anreden” angrily spat out Hauptsturmführer Wolfram as he gritted his teeth, as if giving the man one final warning to change his ways in how he spoke and approached the Hauptsturmführer - if he were sucking up for a promotion, he was going the wrong way about it.

Glaring upon the Sturmscharführer at hand, he continued to speak, not quite finishing with him yet “Und Sie beleidigen den Waffen-SS, wo Sie Sturmscharführer stehen, sind diese die Männer von der Teilung Sie sind, Gefecht mit, nicht bloße Ingenieure zu sehen - ich schlage Sie Entschuldigen Sie sich zu ihnen dementsprechend vor, damit sehend, während Sie denken, dass sie große Krieger sind. Jetzt Sturmscharführer” Rafael spat out coldly, losing his temper with the out of line Sturmscharführer who seemed to regard the Hauptsturmführer as some pompas’ Officer who lacked the fighting spirit, someone who sat behind a desk and showed a lack of complexion for the war effort - no, he was a ‘footslogger’ alongside his men, but he also had a great tactical mind that earned him his rank in the field.

The Hauptsturmführer ignored Edzard’s kind gesture, briefly giving him a glance that suggested it wasn’t quite a good idea, but welcomed none the less. As it stood, Rafael couldn’t stand the sight of the two-faced Sturmscharführer and still awaited the apology…


Translations:[/b]

Sturmscharführer, wenn Sie weiter einen Mangel der Rücksicht für Ihren befehlenden Offizier zeigen, werde ich zu ihm sehen, dass Sie jene Zunge haben, die auf Ihren Mastdarm geschoben wird! Sie werden mich als Hauptsturmführer Wolfram und nichts weniger anreden.
~ Sturmscharführer if you continue to show a lack of respect for your commanding officer, I will see to it that you have that tongue shoved up your rectum! You WILL address me as Hauptsturmführer Wolfram and nothing less.

Und Sie beleidigen den Waffen-SS, wo Sie Sturmscharführer stehen, sind diese die Männer von der Teilung Sie sind, Gefecht mit, nicht bloße Ingenieure zu sehen - ich schlage Sie Entschuldigen Sie sich zu ihnen dementsprechend vor, damit sehend, während Sie denken, dass sie große Krieger sind. Jetzt Sturmscharführer.
~ And you insult the Waffen-SS where you stand Sturmscharführer, these are the men of the Division you are to see combat with, not mere engineers - I suggest you apologise to them accordingly, so seeing as you think they are great warriors. Now Sturmscharführer.

[commissartrotsky]

OOC: Well if that doesn't hit a nerve, nothing will...

Golodkowski looked at Wolfram’s ever changing expression. It was like watching an old film, each blink revealed a different style of face. It appeared mildly comic. The Officer seemed to spit his words at him, as if he was some bad smell. But now at least he wouldn’t be forgotten. Golodkowski felt eyes, burning into his back, and turned to find one of the grubby faced engineers giving him a daggers look. Golodkowski could have kicked him there and then if it wasn’t for the current presence.

Apologise?! To the dog bellow him? He’d do that the day hell froze over. “Wolfie, why do insist on this jest? It is losing its appeal, my friend.” Golodkowski smiled and looked down at the engineer. “You want me to apologise? They are engineers! They just roll around in their own filth for days on end. A dog could do their job!” He spat to the side of the man’s face. “That’s the only clean water you’ll be getting from me.” Golodkowski then noticed a ratchet lying at the dog’s feet. He kicked it, well underneath the tank’s belly. He delved into his pocket and withdrew a fifty Reichspfennig coin, and tossed it down as well. “Go fetch, boy.”

Not turning back to see what the engineer went for, he delved into his jacket and brought out a silver and gold watch. He opened it. Displayed on one side was an antique clock, slowly ticking away. On the other, a small photograph of Nicholas Romanov. He turned the watch and showed the officer. “Do you see? That was the last Tsar, Nicholas II, the true Russian leader.” The watch showed he was to leave. “I have an appointment, with my doctor. Some imbecile though it amusing to take a hammer to my leg, from behind my back. Well that coward’s days are numbered, believe me.”

He tucked the clock away, and removed one more thing. A small flask, containing some Swedish Absolut. He covered it with his large glove and approached Wolfram right side. He carefully slotted it into the officer’s pocket, making it look like he was staring out of the window. “Enjoy it,” he whispered. He turned and headed for the door. “I will be seeing you around, Wolfie.” He opened the door and left, swinging his cane behind him.

[☤Theodorijk Wijzemens]

Doctor Vlakte made his way to the divisional garage slowly and surely; he still didn't know where everything was since his arrival in camp earlier that morning. He had stopped at Divisional HQ to report to his new commanding officer, Hauptsturmführer Wolfram, only to find that he was not at headquarters. After asking around, Doctor Vlakte finally found the place to look. It seemed the Commanding Officer was very much in love with his tank.

The doctor finally reached the door to the garage to hear harsh words being thrown about; oh, how Dieedrik hated to hear people yell in German. It was not the most pleasent language to hear from a harsh voice. Doctor Vlakte thought twice about going into the garage before he slowly opened the door a crack to look inside. He saw an disgruntled officer and, what looked to be, another officer, though his rank insignia was that of a Sergeant.

Doctor Vlakte opened the door and stepped in to see the Sergeant spit in the face of one of the engineers on the ground and insult the man by throwing money to the ground after him. Dieedrik had grown up as a middle-class citizen and he knew this behaviour was exactly what the 3rd Reich was against. He spoke up in his strong, though accented, voice, "Sturmscharführer, was machst du? Das ist abscheulich Führung und ich werde bei erster Gelegenheit anzeigen es. Wer denkst du bist?" After his outburst, Doctor Vlakte caught himself and looked at the officer who was obviously Hauptsturmführer Wolfram. "Bitte entschuldigen Hauptsturmführer. Ich heiße Doktor Vlakte. Ich bin der neues Doktor für euer Division." Doctor Vlakte stood at attention in front of the new Commanding Officer, hoping in all hope he had not offended the man.

Translations:
Unterscharführer was machst du? Das ist abscheulich Führung und ich werde bei erster Gelegenheit anzeigen es. Wer denkst du bist?
~ Sergeant, what are you doing!? That is disgusting behaviour and I intend to report it at the earliest opportunity. Who do you think you are?

Bitte entschuldigen Hauptsturmführer. Ich heiße Doktor Vlakte. Ich bin der neues Doktor für euer Division.
~ My apologies, Captain. I am Doctor Vlakte. I'm the new doctor for your division.

[commissartrotsky]

OOC: This may seem a little harsh. Please don't take it that way, it just helps to really sum up my character.

Golodkowski pushed based the medic when trying to exit, not noticing his presence. He was another dog, though a little more useful than a spanner handler. He quickly looked the man up and down. No sign of a weapon, not even a bayonet. A doctor who wasn’t prepared to fight would last long in his army. He ignored him. The man was a new face to Golodkowski, but so was everyone on this base.

The medic said something in his direction, but it was the word ‘Sergeant’ that got his attention. He stopped, and turned back to face the doctor. “I am Sergeant Major Schalck Golodkowski. I care little for what you just said, but I am your senior NCO and you will address me correctly. You have just come within one hair’s bredth of having a months worth of extra duties. Dare challenge me again and you’ll have wished you had the month’s worth.
“While you are under me, you will treat me with the utmost respect. I will treat you how I please and you will have the decency to keep your mouth shut. Medics make my job harder, preserving life, and I therefore believe they should eradicated from war, and therefore you shall always be under me."

Golodkowski felt annoyed that his first meeting with Wolfram had to end this way, but maybe a show of force was good in this situation. It showed he had two sides, which he could turn on and off, and could maintain civilized, but also voice his views in a disciplinary matter.

He turned to Wolfram and smiled. “Sorry for that Wolfie, but I can’t stand when people don’t address me correctly. I hope you didn’t mind me sorting that... doctor out. I’m sure you would have done the same in my situation. After all your far from a Bolshevik!” Golodkowski burst out laughing at his own joke, and made his exit on a new high note, trying to escape that garage for a second time. He grumbled to himself as he walked out. That small flask of Vodka had been expensive.

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

OOC: I’m a little lost, too much has happened for me to even respond to actions made, due to the double posting… And leaving of Golodkowski… So forgive me if I miss out some stuff, just no point responding to it now.


The Sturmscharführer’s lack of respect was slowly earning him demotion after demotion and the Hauptsturmführer grinned deviously to himself as he quietly watch the imbecile of a man degrade himself further and further. He would be a threat unto himself upon the field of fire and his presence amongst the men was earning him a good punishment coming his way - more so, he ignored the Hauptsturmführer’s order to apologise. Which will be clarified within his report too; unable to carry out orders. Not a great start for the man who was to be his Senior NCO, contemplated thoughts drafted through his mind momentarily as he allowed the man to continue to degrade himself… Spitting, tossing money and showing a disregard towards Senior Officers of the Reich without reason. This man will no longer serve beneath him, before the day’s out.

Then - Another witness entered the room, another Officer with higher standards than himself, which the Senior NCO continued to verbally assault and ‘correct’. Hauptsturmführer Wolfram slowly shook his head as he awaited the man to leave, a grinding of his teeth within the confines of his mouth being the only soothe to his anger. “Guten Abend der Doktor Vlakte” the Hauptsturmführer said casually, as he watched the ignorant NCO leave, chirping a small laugh beneath his breath to mutter out “Er entweder wird dem Ende von einem deutschen Fass durch das Ende von heute gegenüberstehen oder hat von seinem - vermuteter, überlegener Rang unter meinem Befehl abgezogen. Er ist Bedrohung für sich selbst Verfälscht, wenn er die Männer nicht achten kann, die er ist, mit zu kämpfen, dann wird er seine Nichtbeachtung sonst nehmen wo…” announced Rafael firmly, meaning every word, the ignorant soldier had just signed his fate within’ the Waffen-SS ‘Das Reich’.

Turning his attention towards the Unterscharführer, he slipped out the flask of alcohol the soldier had given him and tossed it over to the real Unterscharführer beneath his wing. “Getränk auf Unterscharführer, verdienen Sie einen Bruch” Rafael said with a wink, before looking towards the Doctor again, stepping towards him for a more formal acquaintance. “Sind Sie Ihren Vierteldoktor gezeigt worden?” he questioned intently, hoping the fellow Medical Officer had been shown around appropriately by a desk jockey in the Offices, his eyes narrowing a little as he stood there, slowly rubbing his gloves fingers into place beneath the leather sockets of his black gloves.





Translations:[/b]

Guten Abend der Doktor Vlakte
~ Good Evening Doctor Vlakte

Er entweder wird dem Ende von einem deutschen Fass durch das Ende von heute gegenüberstehen oder hat von seinem - vermuteter, überlegener Rang unter meinem Befehl abgezogen. Er ist Bedrohung für sich selbst Verfälscht, wenn er die Männer nicht achten kann, die er ist, mit zu kämpfen, dann wird er seine Nichtbeachtung sonst nehmen wo...
~ He will either be facing the end of a German barrel by the end of today or stripped from his - supposed, superior rank beneath my command. He is threat to himself Doctor, if he can not respect the men he is to fight with, then he will take his disregard else where...

Getränk auf Unterscharführer, verdienen Sie einen Bruch.
~ Drink up Unterscharführer, you deserve a break.

Sind Sie Ihren Vierteldoktor gezeigt worden?
~ Have you been shown your quarters Doctor?