ATCHUNG PARTISANEN!

[Archaix]

Comments

EPISODE I: THE GATHERING STORM
The night brought with it a few more degrees of bitter cold, which the shallow walls of the log cabin could barely keep from the interior. The thin cracks in the ancient timbers let in the occasional October breeze which let across the room like icy arrows, stabbing at the spines of weary men slumped in corners and the small, solitary flickering flame in centre of the room, around which a few characters sat.
"It'll never work," Smit argued. "It's just too ambitious."
Deutsch smiled reservedly, which only emphasized the scar on his left cheek. It had the right effect, and Helmut Smit squirmed uneasily in his gaze.
"It worked when we secured Mussolini."
"Indeed, but..."
"We are going to kidnap the Regent's son."
"Yes, but..."
"It is possible."
"Right."
"And we will do it."
"Okay."
"And the fuhrer will make heroes of us all."
"Gotcha."
Deutsch Garten, Lieutenant Colonel of the handful of paratroopers stationed in the abandoned lodgings, stood up to command the gaze of his troops.
"If we do not succeed in this mission, gentlemen, you may consider the East to be lost. If we fail, the Russians will soon reach Germany. And then you can expect the worst."
The silence continued.

---

"Consider your actions, comrades!"
The bars clunked heavily as they met with the steel door frame of the cell entrance. Elemer Debro landed heavily on his chest, and paused for breath.
"Shut it, pinko." Said one of the guardsmen. He was a young, inexperienced MP, but at least he was Hungarian. If they had been Germans, Debro could have barely hoped to be forced against a wall and shot. Nevertheless, he was stuck in this damp, dusty prison. He might even be shot, in time.
"You have to release me! You can't let the Germans take control!" But it was no use. They wouldn't listen to him; he wasn't even a sergeant any more. Stripped of his rank, lightly beaten and funneled through the military system as fast as a Blitzkrieg, he was left here to rot. Damn them. God damn them all!

He knew why they were doing it, of course. It didn't take a genius to figure it out; the Germans were reinforcing the country, and reinforcing their ideals at the same time. Fortunately most of the Germans were reinforcing the east of Budapest in time for the seige, so they had to employ raw Hungarians to do their dirty work. Debro spat into the grime as he reasoned the injustice against him. And now he'd have to spend the seige captive.

Mind you, being locked up for being a communist would look good once the Russians poured in, he concluded.

---

El Zee was cleaning his rifle when the Comrade-Captain approached him.
"Comrade Corporal!" He snapped. The solider lifted himself to his feet with apparent leisure.
"Yes, Comrade-Captain!" He replied.
"How many is it this month?"
"Twenty six, Comrade-Captain!"
"Are you looking forward to the battle? Plenty of opportunities for snipers such as you at Budapest."
"Yes, Comrade-Captain! I will look forward to beating the records, sir!"
"Good, good! You will take to the eastern suburbs when the Fifth has closed into it. Or the Sixth, it depends how many men will be left."
El Zee saluted.
"I'm expecting great things from you, Corporal."
"Thank you, sir."
After the Captain had gone, El Zee sneered at him before getting back to his rifle. He didn't know which was better: the Romanians fighting for the Nazis or the Soviets. He hated both with equal contempt.

The problem El Zee had -a condition, in fact, which all snipers suffered- was that killing the enemy had a whole new level of sanctity, even intimacy, that made killing harder and harder with each pull of the trigger. For all 'Plancovsky knew those soldiers he'd killed with simply numbers; twenty six men subtracted from the enemies' total. Oplancovsky -or 'Plancovsky', as he was usually eferred to- knew nothing of the task of killing a man in such a manner as this. Of the crosshairs finding a suitable target. Of seeing the target stumbling, bewildered, through a broken landscape. They never knew that this was their last second of life. They never saw the bullet before it killed them. And the more El Zee did, the more he was expected to do. The more he had to play the hand of death on unwitting foes.

El Zee hated the men he killed for being there. He hated the fact that he was there. He hated the Nazis and the Soviets. He hated both with equal contempt.

[Archaix]

EPISODE II: STORM IN A TEACUP
Damn Romanians- Thought colonel Kalezsony while walked back to his command post. The Romanian regiment was under his command, and this fact brought up old stories...
Stories about feats and rank treasons, about exploding human bodies and war-cries...In those times, the Romanians were enemies and the battlefield was deep in his motherland. In those times he must triumph over general Lascar and his men on the barren landscape near Stalingrad. Never! He would never trust a Romanian.

"Comrade Colonel!" His aide-de-camp awoke him from his nostalgia.
"Comrade Colonel, you must report at comrade Avtomatzsy as soon as you can!"
"Did he happen to mention a reason?"
"No, Comrade Colonel, hopefully it has nothing to do with the poor performance of the regiment...."

Kalezsony didn't reply. Well, the time had come. He couldn't reach the desired village in time...He just prepared to leave when the field-telephone rang.

"Comrade Colonel! The 4th company is in trouble. They asked for armored support."

Damn Romanians! For one good, Russian guards company…but no, only Romanians!

"Colonel Kalezsony speaking." The officer listened to the liaison officer patiently.
"No, you cannot retreat. Counter attack them now, or face the execution! And send Zee back to the headquarters. He's too valuable."
Kalzsony turned from the phone. "Aide! Send a maxim squad behind the 4th company. Anyone retreating,open fire!" Then he rung off, and jumped into a captured German jeep headed toward the command post of the division.

The general was feeding his favourite pets when he heard the distant noise of an engine. It was a Volkswagen, Avtomatzsy knew that much. He collected a vast amount of experience in this subject. Speaking of experience, he was only a captain when the war began, and now he could enjoy all the comfort that an old castle ruin could offer.
"Colonel Kalezsony asking for audition, Comrade General!"
Avtomatzsy threw the last pieces of meat into the hutch of his penguins. As far as he knew, he were the only officer of the red army with such pets. Nobody knew where they are originated –some privates, or Comrade Privates, who had never seen them before in their lives, believed them to be Frenchmen. Avtomaticzsy did not like to disappoint his men, and maintained this fiction.
"Ah, colonel, just sit down,” He said, turning to his visitor. “How are you?"

Kalezsony was relieved. He hadn't seen the usual squad waiting for "traitors", and the general was unusually kind...too kind for an officer with the nickname of "The Siberian Butcher". He sat down, and the general continued the briefing.

"We'll split the division, comrade. The fifth and sixth under Plancovsky will advance to Budapest and encircle it, making the preliminary moves. You and the seventh will initiate the secondary attack. The rest of the division will try to reach the Austrian border - under my personal command. Those fool Hungarians will collapse under our charge, just as the Romanians did."

"So, the dirty work is mine, and this maniac will receive another promotion..." - thought Kalezsony.

"One more thing, we'll use these Romanian troops as cannon-fodders. The Leader, in all his wisdom, has requested that we do not retreat, and I’d hate for our troops to bear the brunt of this. Clear?”

The door swung open suddenly, and two chunky, unshaven military policeman threw a skinny soldier into the room. Accidentally, the hostage opened the hutch, and the two penguins jumped out of the window.

"Who are you?!" shouted the general "You two!" pointed Avtomatzsy to the policemen. "Go after our French guests, at the double! And stop staring, or you’ll be executed before you could say 'sorry'!" To reinforce his power, the general shot in the direction where the policemen stood, at which point they set to the task, shouting fragments of broken French after the waddling Gallic emissaries now playing in the snow.



The noise of the guard’s hurried paces slowly died away.

"I don't know who you are, soldier, but if those flat-foots don't bring my loved friends back, you're dead."

The general was calm, but the mask couldn't deceive Russio. This was the silence before the storm, a silence which was beyond all bearings for Russio.
“Sir, may I request that I help find the penguins?”He ventured, politely. “I have had experience around them before; you see they ate my family.”
Avtomatizsy was pleased that Russio knew what these creatures were, and was possibly further entertained by the thought of penguins ripping people to shreds. It was thus possible, and rather remarkable in Kalezsony’s tired eyes, for a glimpse of rare good-humour to break to the surface of the General’s vicious temperment.
“By all means, boy, by all means. See they get back here safe.”
Russio left.

[Archaix]

EPISODE III: PERSONAL POLITICS
The frenetic energy of Budapest had subsided somewhat along with the temperature -for it was October- and a sudden calm rushed through the streets, down the broad, majestic way of the Danube. For the moment there could be a pause, if only a slight one, while extra reinforcements arrived from the west and the enemy arrived on the eastern suburbs of the city. The need for a rest was felt by all, from the old men helping to construct barricades in ancient knotted streets to small boys piling up sandbags in the middle of crossroads. Even in the factories on the islands in the middle of the river, renowned for their industry, the shells destined for big guns rolled out in a slow procession of solemn dignity. For right now, Hungarian troops were manning the defenses, and German troops were filling the capital as the minutes rolled by.

Down in his cell, Debro whistled a low tune.

There were, however, a few people on the west bank of the city who were immune to the sleepiness. Deutsch Garten and his squad were currently making their way down the shaded sides of the streets that seemed to grow as the sun sank towards the west. In contrast to his men -sardonic SS men, as confident as they were brutal- Deutsch strode out in front while they lagged behind, lingering in the darkness. He walked with a peculiar gait that seemed to emphasize his tallness and at the same time reminded one of a crab; he walked with his right arm and shoulder slightly projected before the rest of him as though carrying a shield, while every new step was taken with his right foot. Finally this halted before a Hungarian barricade in the middle of the street.
"Nom?'' Said the Hungarian soldier, hurriedly noting his German uniform.
"Deutsch Garten. Get out of my way." The barricade-staff quickly pushed aside two wooden tables that were designed to repel Russian tanks, and the men moved on.

---

"Hey, come back!" Shouted Russio, but it was no use.
"QUACK!" Said one of the penguins, indistinctly. "Quack..." Replied his companion, waddling down the road. The guardsmen assigned to get them back caught up with Russio.
"I thought you said you knew how to handle them?" One said, wiping his brow. This had been going on for hours, and they were all very tired.
"That was a lie...no penguin can really be tamed. It's in their blood, you see. In regular mammals rebellious enzymes are denatured by the heat, but in penguins who are used to living in arctic conditions this simply isn't the case. You may as well try to stop an asteroid by holding up your hand...oh no, they're heading for Budapest!"

"Quack," Said Penguin One. "Quack quackquackquack, quack."
"Quack." Replied Penguins Two, appreciatively.

The son of the president, Miklos Jr, disappeared from his royal quarters that night, leaving behind an unmade bed and two dead guards lying next to the door. And a note, beside them, reading,

To: Miklos Horthy, President.
If you ever want to see your son again, I suggest you cease trying to co operate with the Reds. The German fuhrer does not take kindly to traitors, and nor do I.

Yours sincerely, Duetsch Garten.

Two Hungarian guards were watching with bated breath as the two figures made there way slowly to their lines.
"Who do you think they are?" Asked one.
"I think they're French. I've heard them babble as they walked across the field."
"What would two Frenchmen be doing here? That's insane."
"No, they're emissaries from the Russians. Makes sense, doesn't it? After all, they wouldn't send their OWN men to a tricky area."
"I suppose not. And you know how good those French are with diplomacy. I suppose I should call the Sergeant."
"You can't, he's been locked away for being a darn communist."
"Oh, well, I'll call the Lieutenant, then."

"What are your terms?" The lieutenant asked the diplomats.
"Quack! Quack QUACK!" Penguin One barked. The lieutenant scratched his chin -he hadn't expected negotiations to be this difficult.
"I can't help you if you don't speak in Hungarian, sirs..."
"QUACK QUACK!" cried Penguin Two, ruffling his flippers in what the lieutenant concluded as a show of arms.
"Could you lower your tone, please..."
"QUACK!" Penguin Two snapped at his shins menacingly.
"Excuse ME, but I'm afraid under the Geneva Convention..." The Lieutenant began, but it was no use. Negotiations had failed. "Seize them!" He ordered, rubbing his leg as the guards moved in. "And grab that man spying on us over there!"
And with that, Russio, Penguin Two and, after a brief fight, Penguin One, were submitted to the cells.