C'est La Guerre! (Open)

[Géraud Léon-Alexandre]

Near Aachen, Germany. 0712.

The barren street looked it wanted to tell a story of it's own. The signboard hung onto the very wooden walls that it was attached off, like a parasite. Doors creaked slowly, in an inviting tone. It was almost tempting to go check inside, even if it gave him the goose bumps. It was too enticing. He couldn't resist the seduction of the mysterious doorway. As he approached it, the door began to swing increasingly greater; even though there was nothing beyond it to be seen. Darkness engulfed whatever was beyond the door, Géraud reached closer. Slowly but eventually. He hesitated for a moment, afraid that the door would wound his hand. After a second in deep thought, he decided to go for it. Even though it was in constant movement, it felt in-sync with the timing of his hand on the knob. He opened it, pushing his body away from the door as if he was going to get sucked in by the darkness. It was empty. Nothing. Silence struck.

His eyes creaked open slowly. His ears twitched as he tried to focus on what was happening. He saw an empty barracks. Curiosity took the better off him as he jumped out of bed, feeling a boost of adrenaline as he opened the wrapped towel under his bed. He threw items on his bed as he scrolled through them. Pictures, Notes, a few Francs mixed in with some Reichsmarks. He spent a few extra seconds putting them into one other fold of the towel. He gnarled in frustration as he tried to find the item, eventually taking the towel out and unfolding it and giving it a good quiver. Papers flew everywhere. Regret immediately flew into his mind as he gathered it up and tossed it into a pile inside his towel and pushed it under his bed again.

He pulled his socks out of a little small drawer next to his bed. It barely reached to his knees, and from what it looked like; was around the same size as them too. He put them on as he tried to focus his mind on today's activities. He knew he was supposed to be up by now. He had overslept, although he knew not by much looking at the commotion outside the barracks. Géraud knew the others had a knack for picking on him. Being one of the only French soldiers at that exact camp, he was always in for a hard time. It was not outright bullying, but he knew that it was never the same. He felt like an outsider no matter how much he did. Géraud cleared his mind of such thought, reminding him, he was here to survive; not to make friends. Although deep inside he knew it would have been likeable to have someone.

Before putting on his army shirt, he took out his canteen and went into the corner of the little barracks. He poured some water onto his right hand and gave his face one good swish, hoping it would help him wake up. He stood on the few droplets of water that escaped his palms and spread it around with his shoes. Hoping it would dry out before anybody noticed. He made his bed and threw his canteen on the bed as he took his shirt and stood at the doorway before going outside.

He saw the camp in an array of mess. People were swarming the camp, men running around for the morning jog, some were carrying boxes and some were just in a hurry for no obvious reason. Géraud stretched himself out as he walked out to head to the mess hall. He walked trying to remember any events that today might have in store for him. He entered the almost empty mess hall, really confused he swore within himself for his lack of knowledge of the German language. He noticed the notice board had a new notice. Standing in front of it, he began to stroke his beard. Officer? He noticed that word immediately.

Reality struck him like an asteroid, there was a top brass German officer attending that camp today. He remembered a report he had read. He darted out of the Mess Hall and to back to his barracks. He really needed to find the notice. It was the item he previously could not find, it had the shift times for the medical quarters. He rushed around his area, searching under his covers; trying to search thoroughly while at the same time, trying to keep things tidy.

Stumped, Géraud paced around the room. Did he leave it in the medical quarters itself? Or lended it to another soldier to look at and forgot to take back? He dug his arm into his pocket and felt his hand rubbing against something. His soul lifted as he realized that he had found it, he scanned through the paper while at the same time trying to make his bed look perfect. His heart landed back to earth with a thud, it was the day. He had the morning shift as the medic's quarter. He rushed out of his barracks for the second time, feeling dim-witted for wasting his own time.

He reached the quarters before anyone noticed he was gone. He knew he should not have being that worried. It was not like anybody would get injured this early in the morning, but then again. It was wartime. He noticed the operating table in a mess. The previous attendant had obviously left without cleaning up after himself last night. Géraud knew he was going to have to clean this place up, even if it was just a cover up. He could not risk getting in trouble with the officer who was going to inspect them. His brain finally put everything together, the hasty soldiers, everything. Even though it was a simple process, he felt stupid for not putting it together earlier. He ruffled through the medical utensils clearing them, running them under disinfectant. He took a deep breath as he closed the box and headed to the mirror in the room, adjusting his clothing, making sure everything was in order. Because he knew, as did everyone else that in the army, there was no room for error.

"C'est la Guerre, Géraud." Escaped from him lips unintentionally. Coming out as a soft whisper.

[Wind vom Oberturm]

Hospitals...they were not pleasant places in the grand scheme of things. Pain and horror seethed beneath the whitened surface of the ungainly facility. Nothing was more depressing to Wind than walking through the hallways of mercy. Mercy meant there was something to be merciful about. Aside from his dread, Wind was thinking about ordering his men in the flight section in the 2e Geschwader. One man, an airman, was in hospital. Wind had come to visit him, making sure he would be in order for training exercises the next week. His section would do some bombing exercises over Vichi-France, get rid of an 'abandoned' Jewish village. The airman was not vital to the exercises since he was only a gunner, but his participation would be better when the glider targets would be launched from the ground by some Wehrmacht soldiers invited to participate in exercises on the ground near the bombing.

Though he was visiting one of his men, Wind's real mission in the camp was to make a pre-inspection. For some reason the Heer leaders thought it would be hilarious to send a Luftwaffe officer to do the job of the War Ministry. As funny as they thought it was, Oberleutnant vom Oberturm was not so amused. Not being the air for so long would dull the skills that kept his squad above the allies for so long. He brought his mind back down to Earth, though. He would complete the pre-inspection, report back to the Luftwaffe headquarters to have it delivered to the Heer. That would at least give the Heer a harder time. He smiled to himself as he pulled out the checklist he was to fill out. First, inspection of living quarters. Second, inspection of the hospital, since it was a medical unit. Third, pry around the motor pool. Fourth, annoy the airboys, more fun. Fifth, give the unit commanders hell. Well, it was written in more sophisticated German than that, but Wind was a good colloquial translator.

He began by walking out of the hospital as a rushing medical staff-man came into the hospital. Someone had overslept. Oberleutnant vom Oberturm headed out of the hospital where his assistant, Airman Leonirus Helgricht, was waiting. "Sind Sie bereit, Herr Helgricht, die Einrichtungen zu kontrollieren?" He looked back and replied in the affirmative. The two walked to the barracks and walked in. It was empty and neat. A couple of sheets seemed to be ruffled, but people would be sleeping on them anyway. nothing was in the way of walking and all the personal belongings were in their proper places. Most people thought there was always a problem with order, as was often commented in stories, but most of the time regulations in barracks were followed.

The next place on the list was hospital. Something the Oberleutnant did not want to do, but went onward to do. He walked into the building with Helgricht behind him, pencil and paper in hand. The place looked clean enough. He walked down the aisle between the beds, most of them empty. All the sheets looked fresh, but some things were dirty. He had Helgricht note them and continued on to the triage station. It was stained with the colors and scents of battle. He would give them leeway with this. It was understandable. Even the strongest vinegar would not cover up the ugliness of this room.

He then headed on to the surgery room to find something he was not expecting, someone in the process of cleaning. Usually medical units were informed to pre-inspections, so this should have been done earlier. The pilot smiled. Finally he would get to hit the Heer with their inefficiency. One wouldn't find this in a Luftwaffe field hospital.

The man washing the room still hadn't noticed him. The Oberleutnant spoke. "Guten Tag, Herr Landser. Können Sie mir bitte sagen, warum dieses Zimmer noch nicht aufgeräumt worden ist?" The air hung still a moment as the Oberleutnant waited for the man to answer him. His attention rested quietly on the mans grey woolen jacket, at the shoulder, waiting for a face to appear. Airman Helgricht moved forward a bit, pencil ready at the paper for what was sure to be an interesting answer.

Translations:

"Sind Sie bereit, Herr Helgricht, die Einrichtungen zu kontrollieren?"
-Are you ready, Mr Helgricht, to inspect the facilities?

"Guten Tag, Herr Landser. Können Sie mir bitte sagen, warum dieses Zimmer noch nicht aufgeräumt worden ist?"
-Good day, Private. Can you tell me why this room hasn't been cleaned up yet?