Maxxob
The Overseer
Let the dominoes fall
-
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Realistic or Modern The Last Days (IC)
Maxxob
The Overseer
Egon Geissler
A sudden stream of light penetrated the dark room. Through the raggedy curtains, the sunlight hit the man’s eyes directly, precisely, almost as if it was Simo Häyhä. A hand was raised in a vain attempt to protect him from the brightness and allow him to remain in Morpheus’ embrace. Alas, not even 3 minutes later, a sound started to echo throughout the room. A metallic sound, with a reasonably high pitch. The sound, albeit not constant, began and ended so rapidly that it surely seemed so. The sound came from the alarm clock, sitting on the tiny nightstand, just besides the captain’s bed. Giving up on his attempt to sleep for a few more minutes, or hours, his hand, that was at first trying to protect him from the sun, moved to the clock and, after hitting a small button on top of it, silence rained supreme once again. With his eyes fully opened, the man sat on his bed and looked around his own bedroom.
It certainly wasn’t a big room and, not only served as his bedroom, but also his office. A small desk with a chair could be seen against the windows, which were pretty big. With the curtains open, the room was perfectly lit during the day. Besides that, there was a simple wooden wardrobe. Additionally, there was a mirror, big enough that the man could stand in front of it and inspect every bit of his own clothing. To the side of his nightstand, his own assault rifle rested against the wall, a few magazines for it could be found just on his nightstand. Geissler usually slept wearing the pants of his uniform, and that night was not different. Still sitting on the bed, the man grabbed his boots and put them on, fastening its shoe laces. After doing so, he hit his right heel a few times against the floorboard, without particular strength, and got up, using his arms to help him.
Standing up, he stretched his arms above his head, intertwining his fingers and forced his back forward, his chest arching with the motion. Letting a yawn, he walked over to the curtains and opened them. The brightness pierced his eyes, leaving him by an instant, until he got used to the light. After that, he walked towards the wardrobe, taking out of it a hanger with his both his shirt and his jacket. Laying it on the bed, he took both clothing pieces out of the wooden object he, first, put the shirt on and, after it, his jacket. Walking over to the mirror, he started to close the buttons, one of the time, looking at his own reflection. After both his shirt and jacket were buttoned up, he walked once again towards the wardrobe, taking out of it a green-moss colored tie. In front of the mirror, he put it on, making sure it was perfectly centered. He checked his uniform one last time and then began walking towards his work desk.
The desk was relatively clean. On top of it, it could be seen some of his badges, political awards and also his Knight’s Cross medal. He took a good look at them and shook his head, deciding against putting any of them on - “Pieces of metal, worn by officers to display to others their service. Futile pomposity” - his attention was then drawn by the files next to his awards. Those were not there before he went to sleep, and that could only mean one thing: his adjutant must have placed those in there for his review while he was asleep. Taking the folders in his hands, he appreciated how diligent his aide was. The front cover of the folders read Volkssturm, which could only mean they were the files on the recruits that would be in his squad. Walking over to the chair, he sat on it to read the files.
His fingers slid on the corner of the folders, opening it up. There was a mug-shot of the recruit, as well as his own data (
Pilgrim59
) - “Mmm… Eugen Preisig…”. His eyebrows twitched a bit in discomfort from the typos present in the text, but seeing how grave the situation is, one couldn’t expect the typewriter-typed text to be perfect. At one point, the captain started to rub his eyes to make sure what he was reading was correct - “A veteran… did they misplace him?” - that sure caught the officer by surprise. At any rate, that was the army’s loss and his own gain. An involuntary smirk appeared on his face as he kept reading the soldier’s file. He then closed the file and proceeded to the next one. He read the file as carefully as he had read the previous one (
BigManHimself
) - “Norbert Schwarzwald… quite young".With the recruits’ appearance and information recorded in his memory, the man put the files back on top of his desk and walking over to his assault rifle, just on the side of his nightstand. He fixed the strap on the back of his neck, as to make it hang in front of his chest. Taking the 3 spare magazines, he stuck them into his jacket front pocket however, due to their size, the pockets didn’t close. That didn’t bother the man at all and, with confident steps, he marched out of his bedroom. As soon as he stepped into the hallway, his adjutant’s desk, with the very man sitting behind it, came into his vision. The man stood up, saluting the captain and, looking at him, the officer gave a quick salute back, but didn’t stop to talk. Instead, he started to make his way downstairs.
The building his home/office was located, was a bit rundown by the air attacks. It was a 3-store building, the third floor completely destroyed. He had been relocated to that place two weeks ago. Making his way downstairs quickly, and out of the building, he kept walking towards the assembly point, where all the Volkssturm that would be deployed that day, not only his own squad, were already waiting for their own officers. There was quite a bit of saluting on his way there, as well as friendly greetings to the men and women that crossed his path. After all, there was no need to make things harder than they already were. After 10 minutes or so of walking past the crumbling and destroyed building, Geissler could already see the groups of new recruits, waiting to be debriefed by their own squad leaders. Slowing his speed, he kept walking looking at the direction of the recruits, as if evaluating them: some young as 13, some old as to be in their 70s.
The officer finally stopped when he reached the squad from the district he was assigned to. Approaching the soldiers, he started - “Schwarzwald and Preisig, I am your squad leader, captain Egon Geissler. I see both of you are already armed and ready to go, which we will start doing right now” - the man had a soothing voice as he said those words, ending up by pointing towards a road - “I will get both of you up to speed as we make our way towards Nauen” - the town, Nauen, was at least 40 kilometers away from Berlin. It sure would take some walking until they got to their destination. However, before the man began walking towards the city, he saw a few items that needed to be taken with the squad: ammo boxes for their machine gunner and the anti-tank weapon. Being a hands-on type of guy, the captain approached one of the ammo boxes, grabbing it with his right hand and the anti-tank weapon with his left one, carrying it over his shoulder. A few of the senior officers that were already present gave him looks of disbelief, but Geissler thought nothing of it and simply started to walk in the direction of their objective.
Last edited:
Pilgrim59
Ardent Advocate of the Ausrufung
E. PREISIG
Interaction:
Maxxob
BigManHimself
Interaction:
Maxxob
BigManHimself
"ACHTUNG! (Attention!)" The company adjutant shouted, snapping the young and old faces to close ranks at attention.
A jaded pair of hazelnut optics from beneath a slovenly-kept visage glowed as the presence of a Kompaniefuhrer demanded the attention of the mixed bag of troopers. Having little time to get himself squared away since his arrival, the corporal brought with him the rotten smell of burnt steel and trampled grass. While it surely helped to keep him accustomed to the receding lines in the east, it certainly was less than amiable to present himself to a superior officer in such a manner. Alas, such was the time they dwelled in where hope is most lethal to the naïve. For the hunter from the Eibsee, he was less inclined to keep himself in the mud when everyone else was already drowning in it. Putting on his worn helmet, the gray fighter rose to his feet and dressed his ranks alongside a seemingly younger face. It did not take long for him to realize that he was the odd one out of the whole bunch of old men and young teenagers. Perhaps the Hauptmann would not mind his stench when everyone else already possessed a pleasant aura about them, hoped the corporal.
But the one thing that troubled the man the most was the fact that the more they fought, the younger the victims became. Not many were of his age ever since he stepped down from that Lastwagen. It certainly did not do their cause much justice to see children barely out of grammar schools to be bearing rifles and explosives. It pained the corporal's heart, as much as he tried to suppress his inner bitterness. It was then, the Captain's voice called out to the weary corporal and the soul next to him. His hazel eyes fixed forward, while lending an ear to Geissler's words, as he had been drilled to do for the past six years. Another hike - the first thing that came to Preisig's mind, as he sluggishly raised his arm to perform a half-hearted salute. Just like any other man that had just returned from combat patrols with rare naps, Preisig was in no mood to entertain the notion of a disciplined trooper. That was to say, if it even mattered to anyone once the fighting starts. Even so, the corporal believed that he was still on the clock, and it was only honorable to do it right by what is asked of him. After all, that was all they had left when everything else is either bombed to oblivion or conceded in fear.
Without saying a word, Preisig gave the Captain a long gaze, peering deep into the windows of his soul - a measure of understanding between men. He then eyed the road where the captain trod and simply gave heed. The least that he did was wasting no time to take the first step, and that was a sufficient answer for the machine gunner. Turning towards his younger counterpart with an expressionless look, Preisig lowered himself to pick up two cans of belt-linked Mauser ammunition. Having done so, he would drop them into the kid's hands, before lugging his own MG Forty-Two from the ground and shouldering it. Resting both his arms upon the machine gun on his back, the corporal took a deep breath and exhaled sharply to clear his nasal passage.
"Come on, Junge." Preisig finally spoke with a firm voice, motioning the young rifleman to follow as he himself tailed Geissler's shadows to form a marching line.
BigManHimself
New Member
Norbert Schwarzwald
"Scheisse!" reverberated off of the weathered tiling in the young man's shower, he still wasn't used to the initial shock of the cold showers he began taking weeks ago that were supposed to invigorate his fighting spirit as his father suggested. Stepping out he was able to study the mirror which was unclouded by past comforts, searching for the face of a soldier. Still, even with the change in his schedule in the recent weeks learning how to use his rifle, he saw only the face of a butchers apprentice.
But a German butcher's apprentice, and as his father repeatedly told him, that aspect of his identity was as important as the one that carried on the tradition of the family trade. His father hoped to join the Volkssturm himself when he first heard of its existence in other parts of the country, however when the chance came to Berliners his disability (a compound leg fracture caused by a motor accident that never properly healed) precluded his ability to enlist. Often in the training camp the pride his father showed in him pushed him onward and helped his morale, but as the call to action grew more imminent the look of fear on his parents' faces the last time he saw them is what took precedent in his mind.
Standing alongside the rank and file he noticed the deterioration of his city. Life during wartime was all Norbert really knew and for the most part he'd even grown to accept bombings as part of Berlin life, but in the militia the destruction felt more palpable.
His compatriots ranged from the very young to men so old Norbert wondered how his father could have been turned away. Some he recognized as customers from the deli though many now wore an intensity on their faces that rendered them almost unfamiliar. Still, there were many more he didn't recognize. Among them were the squad leader (
Maxxob
) and the hazel eyed man (
Pilgrim59
) who addressed and instructed him: the former setting him on his path and the latter bestowing the ammo canisters he'd be responsible for along the way. Whatever the mirror showed this morning, Norbert was a soldier today.
Onward for the fatherland.
"Scheisse!" reverberated off of the weathered tiling in the young man's shower, he still wasn't used to the initial shock of the cold showers he began taking weeks ago that were supposed to invigorate his fighting spirit as his father suggested. Stepping out he was able to study the mirror which was unclouded by past comforts, searching for the face of a soldier. Still, even with the change in his schedule in the recent weeks learning how to use his rifle, he saw only the face of a butchers apprentice.
But a German butcher's apprentice, and as his father repeatedly told him, that aspect of his identity was as important as the one that carried on the tradition of the family trade. His father hoped to join the Volkssturm himself when he first heard of its existence in other parts of the country, however when the chance came to Berliners his disability (a compound leg fracture caused by a motor accident that never properly healed) precluded his ability to enlist. Often in the training camp the pride his father showed in him pushed him onward and helped his morale, but as the call to action grew more imminent the look of fear on his parents' faces the last time he saw them is what took precedent in his mind.
Standing alongside the rank and file he noticed the deterioration of his city. Life during wartime was all Norbert really knew and for the most part he'd even grown to accept bombings as part of Berlin life, but in the militia the destruction felt more palpable.
His compatriots ranged from the very young to men so old Norbert wondered how his father could have been turned away. Some he recognized as customers from the deli though many now wore an intensity on their faces that rendered them almost unfamiliar. Still, there were many more he didn't recognize. Among them were the squad leader (
Maxxob
) and the hazel eyed man (
Pilgrim59
) who addressed and instructed him: the former setting him on his path and the latter bestowing the ammo canisters he'd be responsible for along the way. Whatever the mirror showed this morning, Norbert was a soldier today.Onward for the fatherland.
Maxxob
The Overseer
Egon Geissler
The road was serviceable at some point, until the pavement gave way to broken concrete, dirt and powdered stones. Crumbled bricks, shattered buildings, houses and the dust… oh, the dust was simply everywhere. With each step, the captain heard a crunching noise under his boot’s heel. A true testament of the current state the fatherland was in. The crunching from under his boot wasn’t the only sound that played with each step: the metallic sound of the munitions inside the box rubbing against each other, rattling as if asking for freedom, was also piercing into his mind through his ears. Would it take long to grant them their wish? That he had no idea.
After walking a few good ways, away from the possible eavesdropping, the man kept his promise and started to explain while they were on a march - “An important radio relay tower was taken out in Nauen, making the communication with a few tank battalions quite difficult. We are making our way there to guarantee the safety of the engineering squad while they fix the tower” - he said, stopping for a moment and looking at both soldiers.
What he was planning to use the Volkssturm under his command wasn’t by the book per se, as the higher ups saw them as nothing more than auxiliary troops or emergency forces. The captain, however, had received a strange leeway in the form of a letter with a curious stamp on it which allowed him to act with more autonomy than normal - “The head engineer was shot and killed while doing the previous repairs and, from what I gather, they were not a fighting core, but a civilian force drafted in a hurry…” - turned his back on the soldiers, he started to walk once again - “... that, or they will have a lot of explaining to do when we get there”
In reality, the state of the intel the army received was simply shoddy, at best. Anything could have happened in Nauen, maybe there was a whole battalion of American troops waiting for them, maybe it was a formation of Soviet tanks, maybe it was simply nothing. The squad would only be certain when they got to the city. Just at the outskirts of Berlin, as soon as they got past at the very last standing wall on their right and they would walk right into the open field, the group came into contact with four civilians: an elderly man, with a pretty weary face, black bags around his eyes; a woman which her eyes showed livid desperation as soon as she noticed the group and brought closer to herself two children, a boy and a girl, most likely around 4 and 3 respectively. The man, carrying a luggage bag, positioned himself between the soldiers and what appeared to be his family.
With such a sight, the officer halted on his tracks. His analytical gaze peered towards the family. Squinting his eyes slightly, his face sporting a wolfish likeness. Geissler had a pretty good idea of where they were, and an even better idea of where the family would go if they kept moving in the exact direction they were when they came across his squad. Most certainly, they were trying to reach the Allies in the West and surrender to them. Many thoughts brewed inside the captain’s mind, and it was clear to both soldiers the man was making a decision. His eyes shifted between the members of the family, at the very least a few dozen times, all made in total silence. It was only, after much staring, that the officer broke the silence - “You ought to conceal yourselves more. Some are not as forgiving towards deserters”
With those words, he resumed walking, simply ignoring the family. While his words may have been harsh, they were the pure, naked truth. But, seeing how hopelessly the situation looked like, would anyone blame a man for trying to make his family survive another day?
Pilgrim59
Ardent Advocate of the Ausrufung
E. PREISIG
Interaction:
Maxxob
Interaction:
Maxxob
The machine gunner gave the Kompaniefuhrer his utmost attention, even when his feet were keeping pace and his eyes busy scanning their environment. It made the corporal think of their country's future. It certainly was not their greatest hour, when it seemed as if the world's fury was about to engulf them. In that moment, Presig felt alone, as much as their three-man unit was upon the empty road in disrepair. The fact that they could not even afford a dedicated garrison unit to repair the radio tower ahead of them was something that reminded Preisig that they were on the verge of being overwhelmed in short order - even if their enemies have yet to make their presence.
"Guess we'll find out for ourselves soon enough, won't we, sir?" He replied, as the Captain led them towards their objective, never expecting an answer as he was sure that both of them knew the reality of the ground far better than the illusion of the propagated lies in desperation that their morale officer often perpetuate over the national broadcast almost every day.
Upon arrival, the machine gunner studied the individuals that were crossing their shared path. As they ran into a fleeing family, Preisig's eyes never once blinked as he fixed his attention upon his commanding officer. Even when he had been folded into what was supposed to be a rag-tag band of fanatics desperately clinging onto their leader's futile dream, Preisig's instincts kicked in, almost ready to spring into action should the need arises. Not at the family, but at his own officer if the latter tried to hang them for simply trying to survive. After all, it was Preisig's own actions in the past alongside his Wehrmacht comrades that placed him here in the first place. Although it was less of a political reason, and more about the lack of manpower that demanded his extended service with the Volkssturm.
Preisig's arms then relaxed and fell upon the machine gun upon his shoulders, completely caught off-guard by Geissler's act of mercy. In that moment, the captain had inadvertently gained a fraction of Preisig's respect. It seemed that the corporal did not have to suffer the fate of presumed treason. Taking a step forward, with a relieved sigh, the man snatched his officer's ammo box and secured it against his webbing. "I'll take point, Captain. Wouldn't want you running over one of our mines." He announced, before making his way in front of Geissler. A subtle gesture of respect for a man that was willing to look past what he was taught in a political Kriegsschule and chose to simply be a decent human being. That was more than enough for Preisig to take on the burden of the weighted belt of ammunition. In comparison, it seemed to weigh less than that of the captain's decision to let the family go.
BigManHimself
New Member
The trek towards Nauen felt disturbingly quiet to Norbert at first. Trying not to grow anxious, he focused on anything but his own thoughts fixating on the sounds of their boots on the concrete and the ammunition in their canisters. He almost found himself in a state of auto hypnosis when the Captain's words brought him out of it. The intensity of the 2 other men somewhat intimidated him and Norbert found his anxieties coming to the forefront of his mind. Was he really capable of being 1/3 of this fighting force? Or would he be dead weight?
After some time on the broken road, the squad came upon a family of four. The air felt heavy and the seconds that passed felt like an eternity while as the squad and the family acknowledged each others presence. Norberts eyes had only very recently been trained to see the father as a deserter, but he had no training to address what he saw in the mother's eyes that reminded him so much of his own mother's before he left for the training camp. He felt lost at sea as he waited for a word from the commanding officer, unsure of who he would have to become in this situation.
When Geissler simply admonished the family and indicated that both parties joruneys would continue, Norbert felt a kind of relief that was new to him. Suddenly the ammo canisters didn't feel as heavy, but as the munitions moved around within and their boots continued to drum the broken pavement, Norbert was now becoming more aware of the kind of choices he would have to make going forward.
For now though, he was just happy that his captain was the one making decisions.
After some time on the broken road, the squad came upon a family of four. The air felt heavy and the seconds that passed felt like an eternity while as the squad and the family acknowledged each others presence. Norberts eyes had only very recently been trained to see the father as a deserter, but he had no training to address what he saw in the mother's eyes that reminded him so much of his own mother's before he left for the training camp. He felt lost at sea as he waited for a word from the commanding officer, unsure of who he would have to become in this situation.
When Geissler simply admonished the family and indicated that both parties joruneys would continue, Norbert felt a kind of relief that was new to him. Suddenly the ammo canisters didn't feel as heavy, but as the munitions moved around within and their boots continued to drum the broken pavement, Norbert was now becoming more aware of the kind of choices he would have to make going forward.
For now though, he was just happy that his captain was the one making decisions.
Maxxob
The Overseer
Geissler was a bit surprised when Preisig took the ammunition canister from his hands, but he didn’t object to it. With a small smile and a nod, he took a moment to look at the other soldier, Norbert. He wondered how would it be their first experience in real combat and what would happen, yet, despite the unknown, the officer kept a confident look on his face, in a vain attempt to show that the situation was clearly under control.
The arduous road continued for quite a few ways. After many hours walking, the trio could see, at the distance, what it looked to be a small town. From the direction they were coming towards it, its appearance was practically intact. Its entrance, so to speak, had two tall constructions colored in a gray lifeless tone. The constructions, each in one side of the road, created a narrow ‘hallway’, so to speak, in which Nauen could be accessed. Not only that, but many sandbags, forming barricades, further made the passage even narrower. The makeshift ‘fortress’ was not unmanned, however, as the absence of color would suggest.
Even before the squad got close enough to enter the town, a few helmets and rifle barrels appeared, just over the barricades - “STOP!!!” - came an angry yell towards Geissler’s group. The captain, stopped dead in his tracks, lifting his right, free hand in a surrender motion and still held on to the anti-tank weapon over his shoulder with his left hand - “Ah, I see the radio problem has been solved then! And without the help of Captain Geissler, Private Preisig and Private Schwarzwald no less!” - the shouted back, in a mocking, joyous voice, pointing to both of his squad members in turn as he mentioned their names.
There was a silence for a moment, while the town’s garrison talked among themselves. The quietness felt almost deafening, until finally, it was broken - “Come closer, but no sudden movements!” - came another order from the same soldier, still pointing their rifles at the squad. The officer felt slightly bothered, by that. Why were they worried about possible saboteurs and spies? Certainly, the enemy had not come that far into the Fatherland, have they? - “Lets play along… for now” - he said, turning to the war veteran and the new recruit. Displease dripped from his voice.
As the group approached the town’s barricade, the garrison appeared to be slightly more calm, not pointing their rifles at the group. One of them, with the stripes of senior private, approached the group, asking for the captain’s papers. With a heavy sigh, the man obliged, using his free right hand to fish the document from inside his jacket and turning it over to the garrison. One thing to note were the soldiers’ black uniforms, displaying the party symbol on their arm bands. After much checking, the soldier finally spoke: “I apologize sir, things are rather tense around the town. I will take you and your squad to the commanding officer” - the man starting guiding the group towards one of the more solid-looking buildings inside the town.
During their short walk, what looked to be a still standing town from the outside revealed to be simply in shambles on the inside: half-torn houses and constructions, craters could be seen all around, surely the result of artillery of some kind. The radio tower stood almost in the center of the crumbling concrete, surrounded by all sorts of make shift defenses, such as sandbags, pieces of furniture, barbed-wire.
Into the building, they were greeted by a dim-lighted room, the windows were mostly boarded up. One of the few light sources were the door and candles, spread throughout the small space. In the very center of it, there was a table where a man in officer’s uniform was sitting. The soldier, who guided them, saluted him - “Sir! Captain Geissler and his squad is here to help with the matter of the broken radio tower” - with that, the man rose up from his chair and walked towards the group. He was also a captain, which prompted Egon to offer him only a brief salutation, as they were of equal standing. The man looked young, no more than 25, and wore a uniform as black as the garrison of the town. Blue eyes, blond hair and a sharp look, his uniform was adorned with all sorts of medals, ribbons and such but, curiously enough, none of them were combat awards.
“Captain Geissler, I am captain Derichs. We have a-” - before the man could finish, a loud, shrieking sound could be heard - “ARTILLERY!!!” - a shout came from outside the door, before the ground rumbled and the earth shook - “GET DOWN!!!” - Geissler screamed towards both of his squad members, before throwing himself towards the ground, and Derichs followed suit.
The arduous road continued for quite a few ways. After many hours walking, the trio could see, at the distance, what it looked to be a small town. From the direction they were coming towards it, its appearance was practically intact. Its entrance, so to speak, had two tall constructions colored in a gray lifeless tone. The constructions, each in one side of the road, created a narrow ‘hallway’, so to speak, in which Nauen could be accessed. Not only that, but many sandbags, forming barricades, further made the passage even narrower. The makeshift ‘fortress’ was not unmanned, however, as the absence of color would suggest.
Even before the squad got close enough to enter the town, a few helmets and rifle barrels appeared, just over the barricades - “STOP!!!” - came an angry yell towards Geissler’s group. The captain, stopped dead in his tracks, lifting his right, free hand in a surrender motion and still held on to the anti-tank weapon over his shoulder with his left hand - “Ah, I see the radio problem has been solved then! And without the help of Captain Geissler, Private Preisig and Private Schwarzwald no less!” - the shouted back, in a mocking, joyous voice, pointing to both of his squad members in turn as he mentioned their names.
There was a silence for a moment, while the town’s garrison talked among themselves. The quietness felt almost deafening, until finally, it was broken - “Come closer, but no sudden movements!” - came another order from the same soldier, still pointing their rifles at the squad. The officer felt slightly bothered, by that. Why were they worried about possible saboteurs and spies? Certainly, the enemy had not come that far into the Fatherland, have they? - “Lets play along… for now” - he said, turning to the war veteran and the new recruit. Displease dripped from his voice.
As the group approached the town’s barricade, the garrison appeared to be slightly more calm, not pointing their rifles at the group. One of them, with the stripes of senior private, approached the group, asking for the captain’s papers. With a heavy sigh, the man obliged, using his free right hand to fish the document from inside his jacket and turning it over to the garrison. One thing to note were the soldiers’ black uniforms, displaying the party symbol on their arm bands. After much checking, the soldier finally spoke: “I apologize sir, things are rather tense around the town. I will take you and your squad to the commanding officer” - the man starting guiding the group towards one of the more solid-looking buildings inside the town.
During their short walk, what looked to be a still standing town from the outside revealed to be simply in shambles on the inside: half-torn houses and constructions, craters could be seen all around, surely the result of artillery of some kind. The radio tower stood almost in the center of the crumbling concrete, surrounded by all sorts of make shift defenses, such as sandbags, pieces of furniture, barbed-wire.
Into the building, they were greeted by a dim-lighted room, the windows were mostly boarded up. One of the few light sources were the door and candles, spread throughout the small space. In the very center of it, there was a table where a man in officer’s uniform was sitting. The soldier, who guided them, saluted him - “Sir! Captain Geissler and his squad is here to help with the matter of the broken radio tower” - with that, the man rose up from his chair and walked towards the group. He was also a captain, which prompted Egon to offer him only a brief salutation, as they were of equal standing. The man looked young, no more than 25, and wore a uniform as black as the garrison of the town. Blue eyes, blond hair and a sharp look, his uniform was adorned with all sorts of medals, ribbons and such but, curiously enough, none of them were combat awards.
“Captain Geissler, I am captain Derichs. We have a-” - before the man could finish, a loud, shrieking sound could be heard - “ARTILLERY!!!” - a shout came from outside the door, before the ground rumbled and the earth shook - “GET DOWN!!!” - Geissler screamed towards both of his squad members, before throwing himself towards the ground, and Derichs followed suit.
Pilgrim59
Ardent Advocate of the Ausrufung
E. PREISIG
Interaction:
Maxxob
Interaction:
Maxxob
Despite the sudden emergence of worn rifles and helmets worn by faces younger than his own, the machine gunner stood dead in his tracks. Neither out of fear nor audacity, but because he was willing to abide by his officer's words. He understood why it was necessary for them to action such a measure, for the garrison was clearly riled up by the impending world that was converging gradually upon them. Akin to that of an artillery barrage that slowly creeps towards its target, the piecemeal movement was far more detrimental to the feeble minds of men than it did when it came to actual devastation - the very reason why swift ends were preferable to the lost of one's liberty to act. For Preisig, he had grown numb to the notion of facing the primed barrels, out of acceptance that it came with the job the moment he picked up his rifle in the name of patriotism, or whatever he gave reason to it at the time. But even now, Preisig felt the blood flowing through him, as if out of instinct to act upon their predicament. He turned over towards Schwarzwald with a certain look in his jaded pair of eyes to dissuade him from any giving into his irrational responses. As things were, everyone was shaken by the course of the war, whether they like to admit it or not.
Surely enough, the troops quicky stood down as the trio were quickly processed by one of the Obersoldats. It seemed that his officer's charm managed to get them by this time. Judging by the worn-out environment around them, it was not too presumtuous of the machine gunner to speculate that the recent attack on the radio tower will not be the last.
How ironic, as soon as his thoughts came to pass, a distinctive whistling followed the infantryman's cautionary yell, as the two officers hugged the ground. Dropping his Maschinengewehr Four-Two onto the ground, Preisig sprung back to tackle Norbert, hurling both the young rifleman and himself away from the tainted panes. "Get your dick's in the dirt! Keep your face away from the windows!" He said, with one of his hand covering his nape with the other covering Norbert's neck. The last thing he wanted was for his munition carrier to soak up all the shrapnel before the fighting even starts.
