Deutchland, Wach!

[SKILORD]

John Baker was coated in a layer of fine dust as he crouched under the stone bench, “Nothing like it, anywhere else in Britain.”

-

He sat down for drinks with his close friend, Edward Rhodes, he pulled to stool up to the bar, shaking, “I discovered something at work today.”

-

The stone bench was inscribed in German, odd for a city so English as Berlin. Berlin had no Volk movement like Leipzig, to John’s knowledge Berlin had always been an English city.

-

“Yeah, what is it?” Edward replied leaning onto the bar and picking up his mug with his free hand.

John bent himself closer to Edward.

-

“Sir, we’ve discovered something at the other site.”

The head mounted lanterns sent their lights bobbing up and down in the caverns beneath Berlin, it was a magnificent site, any archaeologist’s dream, a long buried tomb of the ancients that had seemed to be a thriving city once in ancient days.

John hurried to the larger, more ornate structure from what he believed to be a sort of temple. The larger building had yet to be defined.

-

“The furthest my male line genealogy goes back is to a Timothy Baker, who supposedly lived here in Berlin nearly a thousand years ago.”

Edward shook his head at John’s obsession with his genealogy, “Why do you worry about it so far back? Hell I count it lucky that I know who my father was.”

-

The large, solid stone door was cracked open, and on the other side what seemed to be two headstones, the larger one imposing and chipped, the smaller had survived and just from site he was sure that the larger preceded the other by maybe thirty years.

-

“There’s no record that any such person ever existed.”

Edward shrugged it off, “So?”

“His wife is a different story.”

-

He peered at the headstones.

“None of us spoke the German, we were wondering if you would tell us what it meant, it looked important.”

“Hier ruht der grösste König der Deutschen, ..." his eyes opened and he realized that this building was far more than they had ever realized, his eyes fell on the smaller headstone and the name struck him as absurdly familiar.

-

“Sophia von Koginsted did not marry a triumphant British soldier after the invasion and move back to his home in Berlin. She was the queen of Germany, wife to Otto von Bismarck.”

Edward had been peering into the deep mysteries of his ale, he turned to John.

“That makes you…”

-

John Baker stood in the Palace of Berlin, his own inheritance, he realized suddenly.

“Deutschland,” he spoke in the ancient tongue that the walls warmed to, “Erwache.”

And he wondered if he really wished it to…

[SKILORD]

I've been busy this evening. :whew:

If it's confusing just bear in mind that it alternates between scenes.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Wow!! if the rest of this continues as well as the teaser then Id say were in for a real treat

Great start SKI

[vovan]

Wah, this teaser is a real ... teaser! I'm all ready to get on to the goods.

[SKILORD]

Alright, I'm, working on adding a new chapter, should be up today. I'm also, however, simultaneously adding 4 book reviews to my site, so don't be too impatient.

[Paddy]

Great teaser... thanks

looking forward to your next chapter... no pressure...

enjoy your evening

[SKILORD]

Edward put down his rapidly depleting mug, “Why would you tell this to a Brit?”

“It never occurred to me that you were,” John scratched his chin.

Edward began glaring at the bartender as he tapped his mug against the bar, “Well, I am.”

John was silent in return, trying to motion the bartender himself.

Edward laughed after a moment of consideration, “You still think everything is the same, don’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Edward laughed and stood, forgetting the empty mug on the bar, “Stupid f***ing Kraut.”

He donned his hat and turned for the door.

-

John sat in front of the tomb of his ancestor the light from the distant entrance cascaded into the door. A glimmer caught his eye, something metallic lay on the tomb.

Um zu vereinen was zerbrach,
Um zu erwecken was erstarb,
dies das Schwert der Deutschen ist!

Bismarck’s sword, he gasped, it was legendary. Created in the last days of his reign it was supposed to ensure the immortality of Germany. As a archaeological find it was remarkable… for the heir of the German throne…

Shadows dashed across the light from the entrance, John turned to watch as dark figures crept down the tunnel to the site.

He could have sworn it was a Saturday.

He put the sword down on the grave, it deserved to go in a museum, but if it revealed that Berlin was German, if it could be used as a symbol of fallen Germany how likely was that?

He looked around for a better hiding place as the door’s light was blocked out entirely.

“There’s nowhere to hide, nowhere to run. Turn yourself in now.”

John looked around, “What?”

“John… Johan von Bismarck, you are wanted for the murder of Edward Rhodes.”

-

The prison cell was cold, heartless.

“I’m innocent!” he screamed to the guards as they passed.

The guards guffawed as the prisoner wasted himself against the icy bars of steel.

A light flickered in the corner.

“They don’t give a damn.”

John turned to the back of the dark cell. The stars glittered from the window and a heaving light came from the corner.

“Who are you?”

“Damien Konsig.”

“German?”

In the shadows a bit of light reflected off of his perfectly white teeth, “Aren’t we all?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” the small light from his cigarette flared, “Welcome to the Volkgefängnis.”

John raised an eyebrow, “I’ve never heard of it.”

“A political prison for Germans.”

“Still? But the war’s been over for…”

“Germany’s been a hard nation to kill.”

“But I thought the English were the good guys.”

Damien laughed from his dark corner, “A thousand years later the good guys have always won.”

“So everything that we’re taught is a lie?”

“Yeah.”

A few more ashes fell off of the cigarette.

“I didn’t get your name.”

“John Baker,” he frowned and shook his head, “No, I mean, Johan von Bismarck.”

Damien put out his cigarette.

“Von Bismarck you say?”

John nodded, “Yeah.”

“We have work to do.”

[Paddy]

Wow, wow

great timing for your post too.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Nice stuff here SKI this has the makings of an epic, my only concern is you seem to be rushing yourself. I mean to me it seems to have moved very fast, the first post was spot on but you have skipped along quite fast in part two.

Not a critisism more an observation, but I accept that it is very early in the story, and what you have planned perhaps necessitates the rapid flow.

Dont mean to put you off so please keep the goods coming

Just to reiterate I think you have the makings of an epic here and I am really anticipating the journey your about to lead us on

More power to your elbow friend

[SKILORD]

Chrisus, Chrisus.

Don't be afraid to criticise... me at least. If you're afraid of scaring off other writers you can leave those fears outside of my threads, I'm far too stubborn to be frightened off and you yourself have complimented me in the past for taking criticism well. I'm probably the youngest writer here, I accept that I'm the least experienced and I'm not going to get better by ignoring advice and criticism. If you think I'm moving too fast you needn't mask it.

Anyway, I can see how you can have that misconception and trust me the last... five words of the last chapter aren't what you expect. I'm better with characters than that.

As for a mistake that I did make, I forgot that I had given Edward a last name and where I said Edward Smith in the Second chapter should have read Edward Rhodes as it did in the teaser. I'll fix it.

Thanks for the support.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

SKILORD SKILORD I was not trying to mask my criticism, I was trying to be polite.

A spade is a spade with me young lad

To quote your last post "Anyway, I can see how you can have that misconception and trust me the last... five words of the last chapter aren't what you expect. I'm better with characters than that."

Heres another criticism for you, a tad sure of yourself Id say. I hope you can live up to your bold statement! but IMHO it is entirely up to you to show me I have misconcieved somehow, than to merely say so.

Now how can this be achieved ? by getting on with the story and proving how good you are instead of telling me how good you are

nuff said

[vovan]

Originally posted by ChrisiusMaximus
Now how can this be achieved ? by getting on with the story and proving how good you are instead of telling me how good you are

What he said! Get on with it!



Actually, I had the same thoughts as Chrisius when I finished reading the second chapter. It kinda felt is if you are jumping around rather... Chaotically.

I actually sorta lke that style of writing where you don't really explain too much to the reader and have him put together the situations for himself, but it didn't work too well in the last chapter, I'm afraid. For example, let's take the following piece of the story:

He donned his hat and turned for the door.

-

He sat in front of the tomb of his ancestor the light from the distant entrance cascaded into the door. A glimmer caught his eye, something metallic lay on the tomb.

After the dash, denoting a jump in space and time, you keep on talking about John, but don't really mention his name. In fact, for the first two paragraphs, you just keep saying "he". Now, that is fine for an as of yet unintroduced character. In fact, that's almost an expectation I have. You put the "-" to denote a jump. I expect a change in space, time, and setting. And indeed, we get that here. But I also expect a change in characters. So, when you keep saying "he", I fully expect him to be a new male character. So, when you suddenly refer to John, it almost doesn't click right away that he corresponds to the "he" you were talking about before.

Disclaimer: I wrote this post in between the times when a friend of mine came to bug me about a programming assignment we have to do. So, if it's incoherent, not my fault.

[SKILORD]

I'l try Chrisus, I'll try.

I understand where you're coming from vovan, I'll see what I can do.

[SKILORD]

Neway, I've been snowed in all week and hopefully I'll get off my arse and write summore of this.

Actually I have been doing something, but how many of you really want to read a 15 page summary of the lies and half truths that Dan Brown uses, in the Da Vinci Code to justify his belief that Christ had a child by Mary Magdalene?

None of you, that's what I thought. I'll write this instead.

[EQandCivfanatic]

eagerly awaiting more

[Kaos XIII]

Very nice, good job SKI.

[steamthunk]

I'm a big fan of alternate history Germanys so this looks interesting. Have to agree with some of Vovan's comments though about moving through it too fast. I, for one, want more background.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

You have attracted quite an audience here SKI, now all we need is another chapter

[SKILORD]

Yeah, you do, don't you?

I started work on one last night, and if you give me... and hour... I'll have it up.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Woo Hoo

[SKILORD]

Johan von Bismarck lay quivering in his bed. Memories ringing painfully through his head.

-

Damien punched him, “Think it’s funny? Smartass?”

“It’s not what you think,” Johan put a hand to his bleeding nose, “I really am.”

Damien hit him again.

-

Johan peered over at Damien’s cot, wondering if he could get a new cellmate.

-

“Hey Otto!” someone called from the mass that had encircled them, “Wanna crown?”

-

These people are barbarians, he realized, blood dripping onto his pillow as the cement of the wall scratched his back.

-

Damien had knocked him down, had him mounted.

“Never pretend to be someone you aren’t.”

The punches landed like hailstones, one eye had already swollen shut, a few cuts were heaving blood with each new strike.

-

If only I could prove it, but he realized that nothing could ever prove it while he was still locked up.

A soft clink of metal came from the cell door.

-

They had left him alone in the yard, bleeding and desperate.

It had taken ten minutes for him to pull himself up and hobble back indoors, the guards had been angry that he was so late. It seemed so distant.

-

The barrel of a gun was pressed firmly into his scalp.

is this how it ends?

-

The guards were no less cruel. Just as the other Germans hated him; distrusting his royalty, the British guards hated him for causing trouble.

-

Johan threw himself off of his cot. The bullet screamed as it left his pillow in ruins and dug into the wall.

“S***,” he could hear through the bars. Another clink as the gun pulled away.

Damien shot upright, peering about.

“What the f*** are you doing?”

“Somebody shot at me.”

Damien was quiet again, “I should beat the s*** outta you again smartass. We’ve got a lot of work to do on you before you act German.”

“I swear Damien, they did, there’s a bullet hole and everything.”

Damien swung down from his cot, his bald head glistening in the moonlight; he squatted down and touched the bullet hole.

“I’ll be damned.”

Johan nodded.

“I’ve never seen ‘em do this before.”

“Really?”

“Nah. Interrogation, torture. Never a murder in the night though.”

“What’s it mean.”

“It means that no matter how much of a liar you are… maybe we can get someone to believe you.”

Johan frowned, “And so what?”

“It means you’ll stop going to bed coated in your own blood. Johan von Bismarck, get some rest. We’ve got a lot less work tomorrow.”

With that he pulled himself up to his cot and reclined back to sleep.

Johan laid himself down carefully on my cot and stared at the bars, it was going to be a long night.

-

“C’mon Damien, yesterday you were beating the s*** outta him for even thinkin about it, now you think he’s the real deal?”

Damien thought no such thing, “Yeah, I do. The guards tried to kill him in the night last night, you ever seen ‘em try that one? Why not torture, why not interrogation? The limeys obviously think he’s special.”

“Yeah? If they thought he was so special, why not torture him.”

Damien paused for a moment, but only for a moment, “Tortures have to be recorded, they don’t want any record of him. Anyway they can’t kill in tortures, that’s why they’ve gotta be recorded.”

The larger man was silent, peering into Johan’s bruised eyes, judging the spirit that was left.

He sat down, “I dunno.”

Damien stood a little taller, “We’re all Germans here. We need to, for once, put aside our differences. The limeys can lock us up as long as we’re fighting with ourselves. We put all of the fighting aside and then what? If we work together, behind this man,” he grabbed Johan’s well bruised shoulder, “we can get ourselves out of here.”

A look of awe dawned behind every eyelid, “Freedom.”

“Yeah!” Damien was talking faster, excited now, “And if we can do that then maybe, just maybe, we can get our country back.”

Excited, childlike grins darted from mouth to mouth.

Deutschland ueber alles, Johan smiled back at the men who had so quickly come to accept him, above all the petty disputes, above every difference. Deutschland

“Deutschland,” Johan stepped forward, lifting his fist, “Erwache!”

-

“I don’t like being used,” Johan muttered to the cot above him

A snort came in reply, “Ain’t it better’n gettin smacked around?”

“Yeah,” Johan nodded, his arms behind his head, looking across his cell into the next, where a vigilant inmate stared into the darkness of the hall.

“Think they’ll try it again?”

Damien snorted again, “Nah, too late now. I could make you into a martyr.”

Johan von Bismarck, heir to the long forgotten German throne shook his head and pulled his arms out from behind it, setting his head onto the filthy pillow of the cell, wondering whether the inmates had sworn allegiance to him or to Damien.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Superb!! you proved your point

"We got a lot of work to do!"

Nice stuff SKILORD very nice

[Paddy]

Thank you for this.... appreciate your work...

[SKILORD]

Yeah,. now if I could only spell Deutschland properly

Where's a mod when you need 'em?

[SKILORD]

This isn't so good.

-
Damien’s cigarette sent smoke spiraling towards the sky, “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t she?”

Johan nodded, staring out the barred window.

“When’ll we be free, you suppose?”

Damien snorted, “Free? That’s not goin to happen to us, Johan. We’ll be slaves to the limeys until time runs out. Those of us stuck here in prison don’t like it, but that’s the way things are.”

“Why not rise up, I mean, no one could say we don’t have reason.”

“Why should we? So that we can get a closer feel of the great British heel?”

The guard at the end of the hall stood up, “I don’t like the sound of that, mister.”

Damien stood up, stubbing out his cigarette.

“You goin to do something about it, ye limey bastard?”

The guard was a plump man, a nightstick hung at the side of his belt, a sneer crossed his face.

“Yeah, I am. You want a taste of the British heel?” he pulled his wireless transceiver to his face, “Torture? Yeah, we’ve got a Kraut up here who wants a closer feel of Britain’s heel.”

Damien spit through the bars, “f*** you.”

The guard stared cruelly at him, and turned to his wireless, “Yeah, make sure this one gets plenty.”

-

Johan sat in the cell, leaning against the wall, trading meaningless conversation with the men in the cell next to his.

“He’s been gone a day, it usually take that long?”

The other men frowned, “Ja, Mein Kaiser.”

“Scheisse.”

The other man’s cellmate appraised him as he propped myself on my knees, “Kaiser, do you really think we can make it out of here?”

He smiled with the certainty that any leader must learn, “Of course mein freund.”

The gate at the end of the hall opened, swinging on it’s rusty hinges, two guards dragged a body across the hall to the furthest cell.

The door to Johan’s cell swung open, “You done with him you bastards?”

The body bled from countless wounds across his back.

“Shut up ye Kraut, or we’ll find you next.”

The British turned and slammed the door shut, “Ye sadistic limey bastards, you can all go to hell for all I care!”

Damien looked up at Johan, fury burning in his eyes.

Johan nodded, defiant to the last.

The bells rang at the far side of the hall and the guards came down the hall to usher the Germans to the outdoors.

-

There were a few guards who waited with rifles, watching the Germans.

Johan had learned of several occasions that those rifles had been used, he had been promised that the guards weren’t afraid to use them.

The sun beat down on Damien’s cuts, the guards didn’t have the mercy to leave him inside.

Eager eyes awaited the furious Kaiser, “Mein Volk,” he began.

The crowd became tense, staring furtively at the guards, then it grew bold, screaming.

“Ueber alles, Ueber alles!” resonated across the yard.

A guard approached the crowd, his rifle raised, “Disband, now.”

They stared out at him, yet bound together.

“Disband.”

The guard watched as out of the crowd came a single man, the crowd watched the tall man the guard had heard called the Kaiser, the man who seemed at the center of everything from hunger strikes to mealtime riots, he aimed his rifle delicately.

“Deutschland Lebt.”

Johan von Bismarck swung his fist across the guard’s face.

-

Rifles had punctured the air, blood had spoiled the ground, Johan had personally been shot in his arm and it now hung limp beside him. Rocks had caught the guards who had shot from the walls. The Germans had been buried and the limeys left to feed the vultures. The stench of death still permeated the truck.

Someone had been digging a ditch under the wall for months. The British attempts to lock them in the yard had failed. The ditch hadn’t led to freedom, as it had been hoped, instead they found themselves in the shipping yard, they had beaten a trucker, his truck was filled with escaped Germans and the gates had fallen before them, the guards hadn’t been in place until too late, too busy trying to understand what had happened.

Johan’s arm burned as he forced the truck down the road at desperate speeds.

But it seemed a small price to pay, he contemplated, watching destiny speed towards him.

[SKILORD]

I sahn't feel confident to continue this if none are present to read it.

Were your aim but to curse, I would as a brother embrace ye.

[Paddy]

But Sir, we are here.

We just sit quietly in the presence of your work.

May we have some more Sir, Please?


Paddy and the Scots

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Hey its not so bad, sometimes you are by far your own worst critic SKI.

Im enioying this sure enough, although it is not your best work yet!

I stress the Yet for it is early days in this story, Im anticipating a tale of epic proportions, of the rebirth of a nation. Has Fight for Freedom been of any inspiration to you in this story ?

I definitely wish to see you contimue, and would advise you to expect at times the response to be limited, this forum is very quiet at times. Trust me I know

[History Guy]

Well, I like what I see here.

[SKILORD]

The man behind the computer shook his head, “The traffic authorities can’t find any trace of them, sir.”

His wrinkled blue shirt presented a sloppy tie, advertising a lifestyle that Edward Rhodes could never in good conscious accept, so damn unbritish.

Have them keep searching, they can’t have gotten too far without a stop.”

The lackey nodded, “Of course.”

“They can’t be allowed to get near a city, if this got out…” Edward shuddered.

“Yes, sir.”

Satellites peered from their spacey abode onto the Earth, seeking for him, piercing every nook of the desert that separated the prison complex from civilization.

Edward stepped closer to the screen that projected their progress, nothing.

“Sir, we’ve found something.”

Edward Rhodes, General Commander of yet occupied Germany, turned to his aides, smiling.

The scent was caught; the pursuit would be a little task.

-

The truck dragged itself past the scalding winds of the desert, the engine firing a few last pistons as it slowly died without fuel.

Damien cursed in the passenger seat, Johan pulled the truck off into the caked sands at the side of the road.

“What now? We die?” A panicked expression swept across Damien’s face..

“Maybe, but there should be a station nearby.”

“We’re enemies of the state,” Damien reminded him.

“When did the gas station attendants become concerned with the state?”

Damien nodded, “Perhaps we’ll be safe.”

“Safety has nothing to do with it, we don’t have a choice.”

Damien kicked his door open and went around to the back of the truck, slapping the doors against the side of the trailer.

“We’re outta gas, Honor Guard report.”

The largest of the group stepped forward, pulling themselves down.

“The rest of you stay in the shade back here, if you get killed by something so f***ing stupid as the sun, I’ll whip the body.”

The other men returned to their assorted sprawls in the back of the trailer.

-

The rotors buzzed behind him, Edward Rhodes slid furiously across the desert.

“We’re almost there sir.”

A contingent of Royal Marines twitched nervously in the back of the chopper as they sped towards the location that the satellite had revealed.

The heavy gun mounted on the side of the chopper stared lazily at the sands and dust beneath it as it passed.

“There, sir,” the pilot pointed off in the distance at a stationary truck.

A cruel glint flashed in Edward’s eyes, he turned back and signaled the Marines to prepare.

The Germans heard the engines, came out to inspect.

The pilot swung the ship to dash sidewise as the heavy gun opened fire, laying a few Krauts low.

The heavy gun barked and spewed death. The chopper came to a stop, rocks pelting it in the side and bouncing harmlessly off of the windshield. It landed and the Marines began to file out, lining up and firing, executing heartlessly the enemies of the state.

Shot, pause, shot. The rhythm of the Marines was the envy of the world. The Krauts ran and fell, died and collapsed. Bullets found themselves new homes in these, wanderers came to a final pause.

Edward Rhodes sat himself behind the heavy gun, grinning strangely. The pilot might have noticed but already a thin chord of blood seeped down his uniform. Lifeless eyes stared out the window, lifeless hands gripped the throttle.

The commander of the marines turned back, his job complete the traitors murdered.

The heavy gun barked again.

“No witnesses.”

-

“Yeah, happens all the time, truckers get lost, ferget to load up proply,” the attendant chuckled, “We can get ye all filled up.”

Damien laughed, “yeah, happens I guess. How much it gonna be?”

“Well, thirty pounds oughta get yah back to Leipzig if that’s where yer headed, ssuming you is only a few miles back.”

Damien nodded and checked the wallet he had taken off a fallen guard, he handed over the money.

He lifted his hand and Johan started to pump the diesel into the excessively large container. The Honor guard stood at his sides, watching everything.

Damien shook hands with the attendant, “It’s a pleasure.”

The attendant nodded his gray, wizened face, “You want a ride back?”

Damien lifted an eyebrow, “You serious?”

“Yeah.”

“All of us?”

The attendant shook his head, "I can't take ye all, just the two a ye."

Damien looked carefully at the Honor Guard, “We’ll go for that, sure.”

-

Edward kicked bodies out of the way, proceeding through the remains of the truck.

A redcoated British marine watched him, the jaw sagging open and bleeding onto the sandy pavement.

“No witnesses.”

Edward kicked another body out of the way, pulling the Germans apart and examining each of them, peering into their features.

He cursed to the sky as, in the distance, the sandy berth of a truck began speeding towards them.

-

Bodies everywhere. Blood had spilled and mixed, an orgy of death. The station attendant paused for a moment, unsure that he was seeing this.

Damien stared, petrified, watching the bodies of his friends as the buzzards sat on their chests, whispering of the grave.

Johan leaned forward from the back seat, “Who did this?”

The car came to an abrupt halt, the attendant leaned out the door and vomited.

Johan leaned forward, “I promise you that our boys didn’t do that to the redcoats.”

Dietrich turned back to reply to him.

And saw the chopper hovering behind them.