Chapter 1: June 17 - July 8, 40

June 17, 1940

 

 

   I am going to keep an active log on my whereabouts, the things and the people I meet on the way. To start off I am Lars Köhler. I will turn twenty eight in mid September. My latest job that I highly enjoyed was being reporter for the Berlin Weekly Newspaper. We would update the civilians of the latest news on the war. Or what the Gestapo told us to write. I don’t know what kind of world this is now that Hitler is in charge. Anti communist my a*s... Anyways before my passions were deep into the writing business I was a planning to take up my father’s business of being a potter. It was a family owned business but it never called me. It was either that or assists my mother, and I don’t like making bread all day. The smell was too much. I would eat more than sell. After two years in the potter business I quit and got married to my wife Anja. She forced me to my passions. So here I am now in the war. Me just sitting here writing about bombs, and people dying. The only thing I will contribute to this war is my words. I have never shot a gun, and I am planning to keep it that way. It’s been four months since I was “nicely” intruded by The National Socialist Party (aka Nazis for those less intelligent.). They recruited me to document the war and events for further historical reasons. Today I will be put with a group of different soldiers with different experiences. Were supposed to gain knowledge from each other even though I do doubt that. Some sound like they have their PHD, and some sound like they don’t even know what a Collage is. I suppose that’s what you get when you enter war. Well, I will update this log once I get to know these seven men. Till then, see you later.

 

 

 

July 8, 1940

 

   It’s been a while. Nothing much has happen since I filled you. I finally meet my crew. As I said, there are seven of them. Each came along in the day. Some are quite and some are extremely loud. There is a man, his name is Günter Becker. He was the first to walk into the tent were I calmly sat. He puffed his chest out, grabbed my book and screamed in a heavy German accent “Well what is this s**t?”
   My thoughts were complete. I mumbled under my breath “He’s one of those.” Apparently he took to some offense and crossed his arms. I wish I could tell you what he said next, but his accent was too heavy. I shrugged it off and continued to read. The next to waddle on in was a good height man, with metals all over his coat. I admittedly sat up and saluted. He was our Captain of the group. He had been transferred to us instead of going to Poland. Günter sat up and pointed at me. “He’s prick don’t talk to him!” Günter shook the Captain’s hand. “Nice to meet you sir!”

   The man smiled and shook his hand. “Good evening to the both of you. I am Wolfgang, but just call me Cap. I will assist you men on your missions and provide leadership.”

   He was extremely intimidating, but I found myself smiling and nodding. “When will the other be coming?” Cap asked me and Günter. Günter shrugged and looked at me. “Do you know when?” he asked. I gazed at the clock hanging from a cabinet. “Well all should come in today sir.” I said looking at the Cap. He nodded and turned on the kettle. “Perfect then! We shall wait until they come!”

   Well we waited for many more hours, and more came in. Some tall, some short, and most seemed to be in the best shape. Cap thought it would be a good idea if we all went around the room and told something about ourselves. Günter, being loud, and outgoing was made to go first to shake up the awkward silence.

“Hello Yawl!” He began has he paced the room several times. “Well I am Günter Becker; you can call me Tanker. I am thirty-eight, and I am in war just like the rest of yawl.” He paused, as if he was trying to be nice, trying at least.

“Well I am a professional firearm and I will teach you everything I know.”

Cap sat up and gestured for Tanker to sit down.

Cap placed his hands behind his back and gazed down at the soldiers. Well, and me the timid novelist. And with his incorporation voice booming he began.

“I am your Captain.” He paused. I realized that he paused after every sentence he spoke. I wasn’t too sure of his reasoning of doing that, but I would never question a man of his power. He did everything for a reason. I do remember that.

“We are here for one reason and one reason only. To protect you friends, family, and most important, this country. Many will die, you will see death, you will live death, you will eat death, and you will be death. This isn’t Boot camp any longer gentlemen. You will have to let go of many things, but the first thing I want you to let go is your humanity. There is nothing Humane about this battle field. If there’s a problem with that, then leave.” He paused and waited for anyone to get up. They had all stayed down looking at each other in dumbfounded expression. The Cap nodded and went on. “I am Wolfgang, but I would like to be called Cap. Just that.” With that he sat down. He looked over at some skinny kid and chuckled. “We got a HJ in here? Get up boy!” He slapped the boys back and he got up. He fixed his glasses and look at all of us. “Well Hello I am Fritz Weber. I am actually thirty-six. If I recall you age Cap you are two years younger than I am.”

The group of guys looked over at Cap. He smiled. “It’s not about your physical age boy. It’s all about your spirit.” He chuckled and started to read. Fritz went on “I guess so? So for this mission…” Fritz paused and started to pull maps and compasses out of his hiking mountain backpack. The other men laughed, I found myself chucking a little also. Pens dropped out of his bag and papers flew. Cap put his book down and slapped Fritz back. “Pick you self up boy!” He laughed and began to read again.

Once Fritz picked himself up, he continued. “I will be your map man, per say. So I am positive you will never get lost without me! Of course it could be bad if I die.”

“I am sure I would be just fine without you.” Tanker said as he picked his nose. I watched a line of snot drag across his finger to up his nose. I just rubbed my nose a little.

“Well were we are going it’s important to avoid mines and Russians.” Fritz said as he stacked his maps back up against the wall.

We went through the other four boys. Their names Ulrich who was in charge of bombs, Björn who was this airplane fanatic, Oleg we just called the Russian. He was good at rebuilding cars and weapons. And the last one was this boy named Jack; he was the doctor of the group who had never really shot a gun before. Tanker gave him some tough love about it, but I wasn’t one to complain. I’ve never shot a gun before either. I had introduced myself as their personal reporter. No one was too excited about me, but I could rather careless. I was just here for the show anyways. Even though, Cap and I got along well which was an A in my rule book.   

 

 

Author's Note

Done with the two Logs. Off to War they go (: