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Thread: Alptraum (Nightmare)

  1. #421
    Colonel KLorberau's Avatar
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    Thanks again TekcoR.....Stay safe out there..............
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  2. #422
    Alternative Affairs Specialist TekcoR's Avatar
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    Alptraum
    An Alternative History Affair
    By TekcoR


    Separation


    I sit here knowing that requested leave ends in two days and sixteen hours, with a few minutes as change. The act of departing from a family is a difficult task no matter how many times it has occurred. Yet, no matter how many occurrences have happened, I can still recall every event as if it had happened the day before. The pain and suffering caused by the obligation of ones service is a necessary evil; it is feelings that all who dedicate their life to the military – willingly or forcefully – share.

    The soldier’s pain is shared on several degrees. The first degree is within the heart of the soldier; followed by the family of the warrior. Next, the place of residence the hero calls home feels the collective presence has been diminished. Tragically, the fourth degree is never widely felt. The departure of a soldier from home and family while shared throughout the nation – it is only a burden of those who have a tangible risk on the line. There are people who do not share in the emotions of watching loved ones risk their lives for the cause they have been ordered to fulfill.

    The people who do not feel the necessary emotion by a warrior’s departure are the reason that war has become the evil of humanity. Politicians are often guilty of this capital offense; forgetting that their decisions have consequences for the people they are suppose to represent. Yet, they are not the worst offenders. There are those who have suffered the same feelings, who have suffered through the gruesomeness of war, who returned when others have not, and have risen to positions of power way above their capabilities. These people have risen to a level where they disregard the burden of the warrior and the family, either openly or behind the scenes. These people are traitors, not only to the nation that they amassed power in, but to the species.

    If the suffering felt on the first degree is shared to the highest degree, the fifth, then the planet we inhabit would find other means to resolve differences than armed conflict. The notion of no armed conflict between factions of opposing views seems idealistic; however I truly believe that if more people of power exercised proper thought and were in touch with the necessary emotions; war could become a footnote in history.

    I often just stare at my beautiful family, and get lost in the thought of not being required to depart. Every time the reality of orders makes me wonder if this will be the last time I see my family. Will it be the last time I hear the majestic sounds of the waves against the nearby beaches? The last time I smell the homeliness that I often find myself dreaming about? The last time I feel the beauty of my sweet heart in love making? The taste of bitterness resides in my mouth knowing that the last thing I could see is my demise at the hands of another soul.

    I seek a dream that cannot be fulfilled due to the current realities of the situation humanity finds itself in. It is my duty to carry out my dream, a dream of a warrior never having to leave their spouse, their children, family and home unless it is on their own accord. I do this not only my own selfish purposes, not only for the German people; but rather for the humankind. How to accomplish my ideal is complicated on the best of days; but it is something I again will go about until my end. It is with these thoughts and reservations I once again prepare to depart my beloved life and return to the realities that I willingly and unwillingly take part in.

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  3. #423
    Alternative Affairs Specialist TekcoR's Avatar
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    Enjoy the last installment "Separation"! Feel free to express your thoughts about its subject matter.
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  4. #424
    Field Marshal misterbean's Avatar
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    when reading this very touching installment, I found myself thinking of Hitler, of the 50.000.000 that died, but also of guys like Nixon and Vietnam, of more recent bloodletting. of a certain man in the middle east who has and will again order the death of thousands because he refuses to abdicate.
    A famous dutch singer once had a song to condemn war. In English, the title would be "Goodnight, mister president. Sweet dreams." basically, his reasoning was: the politicians are not to blame, but the people who keep going along with it. if all the human race would tell him: "grab a stick and go do it yourself.", that too would end war.
    until that dream becomes reality, we will need brave people like Tristan (and you), willing to stand up for what they believe in and fight to preserve all our ancestors died for.
    still...what if...?
    HPP LibrAARian. PM me about any change in the status of your HPP AARs. http://forum.paradoxplaza.com/forum/...-Update-Thread
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  5. #425
    Colonel KLorberau's Avatar
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    Melancholy.....as most soldiers are.......settles us into a calm before you return for more action..............
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  6. #426
    Alternative Affairs Specialist TekcoR's Avatar
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    For those who did not check out my brief post in the AAR General section; I have access to the outside world again and will be peeking in occasionally. There is some good news and bad news I will share later, when I feel more comfortable.
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  7. #427
    Pantomacatalasecesionanis ta

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    It's back with suspense...
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  8. #428
    Field Marshal misterbean's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by TekcoR View Post
    For those who did not check out my brief post in the AAR General section; I have access to the outside world again and will be peeking in occasionally. There is some good news and bad news I will share later, when I feel more comfortable.
    welcome back. We'll be here when you're ready.
    HPP LibrAARian. PM me about any change in the status of your HPP AARs. http://forum.paradoxplaza.com/forum/...-Update-Thread
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  9. #429
    Alternative Affairs Specialist TekcoR's Avatar
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    I appreciate everybody's warm welcome back. I have not returned under the circumstances I've wanted; however often we find ourselves mere pawns in the puzzle that life is. During my stint at Ft. Jackson, I ended up aggravating a previous knee injury (both knees in the same incident); and ended up suffering injuries to the Patellar Tendon (connects the knee to the tibia) in my right knee.

    At this time, surgery is not required; however further strain through running, jumping and extensive exercise using my knee would mostly likely change this scenario. With that said, I will be undergoing physical therapy for the next few months as we attempt to strengthen the tendon to be able to handle strain again. That said, my career in the Armed Forces has been effectively ended until I can re-enlist (with proof that the knee issues have been addressed to satisfactory standards).

    I look forward to recovering and writing more. See you all soon, for the Nightmare will surely continue.
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  10. #430
    Field Marshal misterbean's Avatar
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    for what it's worth, a colleague of mine once had a serious work-related accident. doctors told him he'd never be able to walk again.

    since then, he had had years of playing amateur soccer and is left "only" with a weak ankle.

    determination, friends and family will see you through.

    and we will be here for a shoulder to lean on if needed.
    HPP LibrAARian. PM me about any change in the status of your HPP AARs. http://forum.paradoxplaza.com/forum/...-Update-Thread
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  11. #431
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    Welcome back. Sorry to hear about your injury. Prayers your way for a quick healing. Looking forward for the writing to continue.

    KLorberau
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  12. #432
    Alternative Affairs Specialist TekcoR's Avatar
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    Are you ready for more of the Nightmare?


    Stay tuned as A Destructive Awakening, Magnificent Charade, Wayward Relief and A Chance to Be Taken will reignite the horrors of war as Tristan Schnack struggles to survive in a world that is ever changing.

    A Destructive Awakening - Tristan returns to Warsaw.

    Magnificent Charade - Upon the banks of the Vistula.

    Wayward Relief - Footsteps approaching from the distance.

    A Chance to Be Taken - Oh noes!
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  13. #433
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    Interesting...
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  14. #434
    Alternative Affairs Specialist TekcoR's Avatar
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    Alptraum (Nightmare)
    An Alternative History Affair
    By TekcoR

    Chapter 3
    A Destructive Awakening - Magnificent Charade - Wayward Relief - A Chance to Be Taken

    A Destructive Awakening


    We arrived in Warsaw, a destroyed, desolate city void of civilized life forms, on May 28th, after an uneventful train ride from Paris. The city’s populace had once again fled the city, as the Soviet’s unrelenting horde pushed our forces further and further back; regardless of the valiant effort given by us. I had been to Warsaw once before, three days after the city had captured in 1939. The streets were quiet, the population either left or buried themselves in cellars and shelters hoping to remain hidden from reality, and the only sound that rang throughout the city was one of military vehicles and personnel. Warsaw had not dramatically changed, the only difference was we now had more military equipment within the city, and we were advancing in another direction.

    Though generally devoid of civilized life, there is a place just across the street from where the division setup headquarters that provides a great escape from the realities of the city. I could look straight down the street and see the trees withering in life, leafs that once proudly waved with the wind now being mere memories. Flowers that were marvelous and well taken care of during the peace had become shades of their former selves. Every spring the flowers renewed their annual quest to flourish, only to wither away due to the rigged realities they faced within the decayed city.

    The streets, once teaming with life of a vibrant and flourishing culture were deserted except for those whose fortitude was resilient enough to deal with our occupation. Streets and buildings had been heavily damaged in during the assault of the city, and when we entered it on September 28th, rubble littered the streets. Almost three long, unimaginable years have passed since my last visit to the former Polish capital. As before, I cannot wait until my departure from this hellish city. Warsaw is a wasteland that visits us in our frequent nightmares; Paris is the heaven of the dreams, an escape of the unimaginative grandeur that is only eclipsed by ones home.

    I often dreamed of Paris when I sat at the café across the street from headquarters. I thought of my beautiful wife and daughter visiting and having a nice eloquent brunch before visiting the wonderful landmarks and attractions the city would have to offer. However; the escape from reality was often interrupted by members of the divisional staff; or the rumbles of artillery far off in the distance. The thunderous vibrations at first started close enough to hear, but well beyond the ability to cause harm; yet day by day the sound drew closer to our location. The storm of artillery served as a constant reminder that no matter how often I sought to escape from hell on earth, I could not escape from it, it would always draw closer until finally it would have a hold of you.

    Eight days would pass before the thunder was too far away to suppress; the Soviets were within firing distance of the city. At first the shelling was sporadic, mostly reports from the outskirts of the city, with the shelled units requesting counter battery support. The reports were skittish at first, corps headquarters had passed down a memorandum that the Soviet advance would find Warsaw too difficult to breach and that any opposing force that would be encountered would be light and easy to defeat. I read the memorandums with a bit of skepticism; I had thoughts that betrayed what I was being told. I did not think that the city would be spared from the Soviet rampage; that we would find ourselves in a complete reversal situation by the end of the year. Yet, I continued to believe most of what I was told, for I did not have better information.

    Magnificent Charade


    Rhiley and I watched the sun set over the shores of the Vistula as it ran through the unkempt city of Warsaw. The fighting end of the Third Reich stood across the banks of the Vistula. We sat along the shore, hidden by brush, unnoticed by either our sentries or the enemies; which we could clearly make out with both eye and ear. A hundred meters behind us, the Kübelwagen sat, hidden within behind the doors of a garage. The day had been long; we awoke to an air raid warning as pistons roared near meters above the skyline of the ruined city. We watched in awe as Messerschmitt Bf-109s darted through the clouds in an intricate dance with their Soviet counterparts. Machine guns roared as brass rattled against the stone; the sky had become the show.

    From the small window of the air raid shelter in the headquarters we watched with an obstructed view, the room was shared with the entire divisional staff. Undaunted by the danger, Rhiley had been pestering to get a better view of the on-going aerial action. For an entire hour we watched the weaving of steel and brass in the sky before his youthful sense of danger and pestering got the better of my inner child. At first we slowly pulled away from the gathered crowd of the window, working our way to the door towards to the stairs. After we reached the light wooden door; which really wasn’t much protection for an air raid shelter; I scanned the room one last time leaving behind the wisdom of adulthood. Rhiley opened the door, making a large enough gap for him and myself to slip out one by one. With both of us out of the confined, nearly un-breathable space, we closed the door and dashed up the first, then second and lastly third flight of stairs.

    On the second floor of the stone building, one of the few that we had initially found undamaged from years of neglect, the divisional officers had their quarters. From our new vantage point, my tiny bedroom with an enormous glass door leading to a patio, Rhiley and I watched the aerial fireworks with the glee of children. The Messerschmitt pilots easily handled their Soviet counterparts due to the technical experiences from the previous years. However; the Soviets held an upper hand in sheer weight of their force – as they were capable of amassing a unified air fleet compared to the spread out Luftwaffe. After an entire hour and twenty minutes passed in the lack of safety that my bedroom provided, we watched as the end of the aerial assault unfolded as a Soviet plane crashed within six meters of the divisional headquarters; the pilot had ejected only to be gunned down before reaching the earth.

    An eerie silence came over the city after the aerial assault. There was a persuasive feeling residing deep within my gut that what we had experienced today would not be the last event before the clock struck midnight. Though we could not pinpoint what was next in store, we moved throughout the day preparing for the inevitable. By mid-afternoon the tension continued to grow, the Soviets had not acted like we had come to expect thus far. We dared to eat lunch; not because the sensation of hunger was present, but for the sole fact that the next time a meal could be eaten was unknown.

    With an eloquent sandwich on fine bread, meat and cheese in our stomachs, washed down by remarkably clean water, we returned to the task at hand. Though official press releases and communications from corps and army headquarters said otherwise, I knew the Soviets would not bypass the city. There was simply too much to gain if the city were taken. Over the past three days I had conducted a series of reconnaissance missions throughout the city, even venturing outside of the division’s assigned sector. From these I made suggestions to the commanding officers; only to be rebuffed or ignored for my intelligence was beyond the reality of the situation and responsibilities. I felt it was my duty to make a final attempt after lunch to have the commander reassess the situation, only to be advised after an hour of waiting that he was too busy.

    Disappointment again filled the empty caverns within my soul, the generals in charge did not seem to care about the situation I believe we found ourselves in. Without much else to do in the day, Rhiley and I headed towards the river shore late in the afternoon, around 4:50. Our destination was reached within a quick five minutes drive through the partially deserted streets; only a few detachments of soldiers patrolled the division’s sector. We stopped the Kübelwagen and hid it within an abandoned garage before we unnoticeably walked towards brush along the shore of the Vistula.

    The river’s current rushed water between its banks with great simplicity that I became mesmerized by the simple process. I often sat by beach in Norddeich watching the waves being propelled onto the shore. Hours would traverse before I would force myself away from the calming view and back to the house. I hoped to sit upon the banks of the river, escaping from the reality that Warsaw and war are. At first, the minutes sped past us without notice, before they began to slow down. Thirty seven minutes after our arrival within our makeshift hideout, I could hear the faint roar of artillery; which was quickly followed by the whistling of incoming shells. The day had thus far been long, and was just about to get more interesting in both events and duration.


    Wayward Relief


    The shells rain without end, dropping around the city spewing debris hundreds of feet high. I wish I could slip away to the comforts of home, and bring those that I show emotion with to the safety that is nothing but a dream at this current time. As the thunderous storm continued, I dared not move, for the area we inhabited seemed to be a pristine fortress, spared from the ferocity of reality. Yet the brush that hid us, even in the intense light caused by the bombardment, was nothing but a mere castle of glass. Our remains would be gone if the enemy grew wiser, if luck ran out for us, or a thousand other minute calculations turned out differently.

    Throughout the night we huddled in magnificent safety of our paper-thin fortification; which we had reinforced with nearby small branches, and dug ourselves a little deeper into the ground. I kept a nervous pace, tracking the hours through my watch and judgment as best I could. After an hour or two would pass, I would wake up the sleeping nephew to watch guard over our position. I often thought how futile and useless watching over us was, one German soldier and one officer with nothing but a pistol to defend themselves from the Soviet hordes. I calculated our chances of survival, minus the artillery barrage at about one percent.

    I am not sure exactly how long the barrage continued on, I last was awake at two in the morning, before Rhiley took over the watch. I woke up and the sun had already risen and was penetrating through the natural cracks in our castle of glass. I raised my left arm and glanced at my watch, indicating that the time was thirty seven minutes past the seventh hour. Glancing to my left, I saw my nephew lying down, arms covering face in a futile attempt to block out the son.

    “Rhiley,” I said as I nudged him in the shoulder closet to me. There was a slight response, but he did not fully wake. I repeated the action for a second and third time before he revealed his face and looked at me with a blank stare. “How long have you been asleep?”

    He grumbled, still lying on his back, his head resting against fallen branches. He began pulling himself up after stretching out his legs. “About three hours, Colonel, the bombardment had stopped and I couldn’t wake you. We both…”

    I could not believe the words; I could not have been woken. “How long did you try to wake me Rhiley?”

    He rubbed his eyes, peeling away the sleep. “I tried for ten minutes, Colonel. Then I heard what sounded like voices approaching us. It sounded like Russian, so I got quiet. Next thing I know is what we are discussing right now.”
    I nodded, my nephew’s story made a little bit more sense and non-accusatory. Though I dreaded the thought that there was a chance we were surrounded by the enemy. If we were trapped behind enemy lines, I hadn’t kept my voice low. There was a good chance that any moment enemy soldiers would come running from wherever they were to our position and without question end our lives. Yet, minutes passed and nothing to the like transpired. We sat there motionless and silent, having decided that we should creep out to better safety as soon as possible.

    We waited there for minutes as the courage to act upon what we had agreed upon to build up. This was an unusual feeling, I had never been so afraid of being captured in my storied career. I had never thought about the possibility or to the extent that was racing through my mind at the current time. The horror stories of what Soviet soldiers were doing to the local population haunted the spirit; their torture was not quick. I had heard that a handful of officers of the same rank or a grade below or above me had been subject to brutal methods for up to three days before they succumbed to what we all must face, death. I did not wish to experience these horrors, and felt that the castle of glass we had inhabited for the past evening and night would be the safest option, but an option that could not be taken.

    Hesitation, the act of delaying the inevitable action that one must take. It is the game that Rhiley and I played all night long, though initially with good intent. Without adequate reason we continued our presence within the castle of glass; there likely were no Soviets across this side of the Vistula. There was no sense in playing the game any longer; we had to move, eventually. I prepared myself to move and saw Rhiley mimicking my motions. With our reluctant selves ready to move, I heard the sound of footsteps meters away.

    A Chance to Be Taken

    We had been startled by the approaching sound of boots tussling against twigs and dirt. As quietly as possible I cocked the beloved 7.65mm Luger my father had once used, I hoped to catch the intruder unprepared. The sound of the foot steps drew closer and closer as I brought the Luger inwards snug to my upper chest, prepared to fire at moments notice.

    “Rhiley,” I whispered. “Be prepared to run, follow my lead after I shoot.” My nephew simply nodded that he understood. A nervous sweat was visible from his brow, and most certainly I shared the look.

    The sound of approaching footsteps halted in a delayed fashion, suggesting to me that there were at least two souls approaching us. Though the years have changed me from decades ago, I was confident that I could incapacitate both targets before they could effectively return fire. “Are you ready Rhiley?” I spoke softly. I watched him nod in the affirmative, as I began a count down. “One, two, thr--.”

    “Tristan, there is no need to hide within the bushes. We are not young children anymore,” said a voice that I instantly recognized. We had grown up in neighboring villages, our fathers both mayors of their respective residences.

    I smiled as I removed myself from the castle of glass and brushed off my uniform. “What brings my good friend, Erwin out into the destruction of Warsaw?” Erwin returned a friendly smile at me, though his companion was a bit perplexed why I still had the heirloom Luger close to my chest. Upon realizing the weapon there, I made haste to holster it.

    “Well my dearest friend, quite frankly I am here on my own orders, and was about to depart back for Berlin to report to my superiors. I was about to get on the plane when I overheard a conversation between a group of soldiers that an officer had last been seen riding in a Kübelwagen towards the Vistula. You know my weakness, Tristan; I love an adventure and set off without much thought. After about a fifteen minute search, I remembered our favorite hiding spot back home, and looked for a similar object. Thus, here we are, in a middle of a war zone recollecting about times gone by.”

    I laughed at the end, the Soviets could certainly resume whatever they had planned for Warsaw and we wound find ourselves again trapped in the same situation as moments before. “It has been forever since we last saw each other. Even longer than the last time we visited the beach together my friend. Yet, no matter the length of separation, your timing never ceases to amaze me.”

    Erwin grinned with a gleeful emotion running throughout his body. Rhiley and my friend’s companion looked lost in the situation. Perhaps I would have to one day share the tales of Erwin Daniel Preissner with my nephew. First, I would have to indulge my serving children about their adopted uncle’s heroics. The saga would break dinner table pleasantries for the horrors of war are a sacred bond between those who have experienced it. Though our journey into the forest was over two decades prior, I had not shared that fateful event.

    I began bringing myself off the ground, while doing so Preissner extended his black-gloved right hand to assist. I reached for my friend’s hand with my left and finished pulling myself up with ease. After he had finished assisting me to my feet, he extended the same courtesy to Rhiley.

    “Thank you, sir,” Rhiley said gently as he dusted himself off. Preissner’s face brightened with the emotion of pride as he looked at me.

    “You are welcome, soldier,” he replied, turning his glance towards Rhiley and hesitantly saying the last word. Preissner returned his eyes towards me. “Is this your eldest, Philipp?”

    “No,” I said, holding back words. “This is Rhiley; he is Joseph’s eldest and only son.”

    Preissner nodded, Joseph and he had not always gotten along, as they had a difference of opinion on a great number of events. “He is the one I have heard about, mostly hearsay though, a friend of a friend of a witness you know. From what I have collected, an ambitious middle aged officer bribed a senior officer with exotic and rare wine in order to get the transfer of a beloved nephew. I believe that is the jest of the story, is it not friend?”

    I gulped then nodded in agreement, allowing Preissner to continue. “Under normal circumstances, we both know the penalty for such actions – if the chain of command were to find out. However, circumstances have not been normal far too long my friend.” Preissner halted, and I noticed he was continuing to review the look on Rhiley and my face. “Friends, you do not need to worry. I have burned the paper trail; there is no record of a young corporal being transferred due to a bribe.”

    Our faces were instantly relieved. Preissner was an interesting friend, but one for all his faults, all his little nuances, in the end he was a person I could trust. “I believe I can chalk up another tally for what I owe you my friend, how many is that now?”

    He grinned. “I cannot remember the exact number, I am sure it is far more than I can count. Let’s just say three.” We both smiled at that. “There is one last thing though, my friend,” he continued while pulling out a manila envelope. “This one is free of charge.”

    I nodded, and took the envelope which had the seal of Oberkommando der Wehrmacht Headquarters on it. “Thank you,” I said as I examined the envelope further. I wondered how he had obtained this particular package, however Preissner is a man of many questions, but his method speaks for his personality and ways.





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  15. #435
    Pantomacatalasecesionanis ta

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    It seems that our hero has been wandering randomly instead of doing something useful in the front...
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  16. #436
    Alternative Affairs Specialist TekcoR's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Kurt_Steiner View Post
    It seems that our hero has been wandering randomly instead of doing something useful in the front...
    That is up for debate. Wandering randomly because he doesn't have a use - nobody will listen to him... Or wandering randomly because it just makes for a good point in the story? That is what you have to ask yourself.

    I did notice, when re-re-re-reading Chapter 3, it doesn't clearly mention this, but Chapter 3 is set in 1942. The next few installments will be set in 1942, as more of the back story needs to be explained regarding a certain Erwin Daniel Preissner, who may become a major player in the end of it all.

    Any questions about Chapter 3? Or anything else thus far?
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  17. #437
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    you might want to mark "flashback" chapters as such. otherwise it gets hard to follow.
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  18. #438
    Alternative Affairs Specialist TekcoR's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by misterbean View Post
    you might want to mark "flashback" chapters as such. otherwise it gets hard to follow.
    You are right, my apologies for any confusion others may have about that.

    All "flashback" installments/chapters will now clearly be marked as such. Here is an example of future "flashbacks"

    Flashback

    Chapter 4
    Orders from the Rear - A Meeting of Resistance - Position of Power - Around the Commands


    Until then, thanks for reading and sharing your concerns!
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  19. #439
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    Welcome back TekcoR...interesting read those last ones.....Warsaw is the front line in 1942???? Hmmmmmm
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  20. #440
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    Quote Originally Posted by KLorberau View Post
    Welcome back TekcoR...interesting read those last ones.....Warsaw is the front line in 1942???? Hmmmmmm
    Warsaw, June 1942...Yep.

    The read will be more interesting here soon. I really believe more backstory needs to be written, thus that is what we get!
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