Replacement Furher

[problem_child]

Hi all. What follows is my civfic that I wrote. Some parts of the story were pretty much ripped straight from Harold Pinters play 'One for the road', and for this I make no apologies, as that great piece of work inspired me to do this in the first place as a kind of translation into a Civ3 context.

I've been reading the fiction section, and I have to say, I'm not expecting a very high standard of criticism, it's a shame really, but the quality of critic in this forum is very low. There are some good writers out there, and some which are rubbish, but you can see that they are all having fun- and that's the important thing. After all this fiction is more for the fun of storytelling Civ3/PTW then develkoping literiture ability.

But for myself- from now on, whenever I read a work, I hereby promise to say not just whether I think it's good, but what I liked about it, what I didn't like, what I thought was stupid- or could have been done different and better.

Apologies to the Deutchlanders amongst you before hand for my appalling knowledge of German names-spelling, title usage, and the lack of accent punctuation.

Here, ist da story:

[problem_child]

.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Ive just read it and thought it was very good, is there going to be more and why dont you post it directly typed here?

for whats written so far.

[problem_child]

Thanks ChrisMa

Actually it's just a short story, and I wasn't thinking to add to it, but gimme time to fix my computer, buy Civ3PTW, play a few games- and hopefully I will be creating a historical piece.

If you think people preffer to have the stories written directly to the forum, I'll do that, it's just a drag choppin it up.

[problem_child]

The Replacement Furher.


'Because we all have been for all time: I, and thou, and those kings of men.
And we all shall be for all time, we all for ever and ever.'

-The Bhagavad Gita.




Siegfreid.


He stood gazing out of the elegant main window of the study, his eyes
seeming not to see the distant forested slopes beyond, or the mountains that
shone clear in the crisp winter air, their snowy white peaks pale in the
morning sunlight. One hand rested against the edge of the stone wall that
framed the tall arch, one hand balled in a fist resting at its habitual station
against the small of his back. His bearing was upright, even at rest,
a marshal grace that suited the neat grey uniform he wore, and the severe
cut of his iron-grey hair.

The study around him was comfortable, furnished by exquisite tastes, the
leather-bound books in hues of burgundy red and dark green
and gold lined the walls, which surrounding the pine floored space, at its
centre the plush Persian carpet, and the heavy oaken desk at one end. He had
ignored the comfortable leather seats, even his own throne-like piece behind
the desk, and he had ignored the well stocked bar beside the window.

This place, this room, his study, his favourite
place in all the world, and yet he could not put himself wholly in the present.
This house, how often he had thought of it these past few months, in his
moments of weakness how he'd wished to be here, and now he was- but his mind
would not rest, would not settle and enjoy what he'd always thought as his
heaven, his haven. Outside his wife read, or wrote, academician that she
was, in the garden below the window he could see her now with another woman,
probably one of her student they sat by the oak tree, he could tell them by
their pale coloured dresses, a black-suited figure; the servant, politely
standing to one side, all their facial features too far away to make out. He
watched them, watched his wife, he loved his wife.

His brow creased, troubled, and his lips tightened slightly, he had missed his
wife, had thought of her often too, in his moments of weakness- and his moments
of strength, but now he could not even bring his mind to dwell on her. A week
he had been back so far, and in that time he had surrendered himself to her
love, surrendered all thoughts of India to the past, surrendered all anxieties
of the war, of Berlin.

And then had come the news, and everything was to change again. Inside it
had already changed again, in his mind he was back in India, reliving the
terrible decisions that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He sighed,
for what General could there be that had no such burdens?

On the one hand he should have been relieved at the news, elated even- god
knows he had prayed for it often enough- during his rages, and he had had many
rages, during the India debacles.

He loved his wife, and he loved being here with her again, here in his villa
in the mountains, but how he had hated the idiocy of his masters. He hated
their arrogant folly, their cowardly half-measures, short-sighted greed that had
caused the loss of so many thousands. Needless deaths, thousands, his to
carry, for that was his duty. Finally his masters fearful incompetence had
called him home and although he was not sorry to be here again, the weight of
the thousands bore too heavy on his shoulders, and he hated them still for it-
despite his love for his wife and his home.

Yes, on the one hand he should have been pleased, but on the other- who now
replaced that cowardly gallery of fools? For that was the news, they had
been replaced, those idiots in Berlin had been replaced. It had come as no real
surprise of course, not once it had happened, over the past weeks even in India
they had all come to know how bad the situation had become, the riots, the
curfews, the strikes. Even here, in Hamburg, mere miles away, there had been
violence, the Communist Workers Initiative they had said, infiltrating the
ranks of local miners and agitating the townsfolk. Luckily things had
settled down before the army had been called in. Of course he couldn't blame
them, who was he to know what the best way to govern was, he was a soldier-
all he could do was hope those that chose, be they the people or the elite,
would choose rightly, for that government would be his master, he
did not choose the government, for he was neither of the people- nor of the
elite, he was a soldier.

He turned from the window at the sound of a polite knock at the door. "Come"
he said, his voice clear, deep. The door opened slightly, it was Johann- his
butler "Herr General" said the Butler, eyes levelled respectfully at the
Generals boots, his manner dignified
"Gentlemen from the Ministry of Warfare are here
to see you sir, they ask that you accompany them... they say they are here to
take you to Berlin Herr General."
"Hmm" said the General resignedly, for this came as no surprise. They had
called for him, as he knew they would since the moment he had heard the news
that morning. "Where are they now?" he asked
"They are in the foyer Herr General, they say they must leave immediately sir,
they say they have been sent directly by order of the new leadership sir"
"Tell them I will be with them shortly, I need first to say goodbye
to my wife." instructed the General.
The butler disappeared, and the General turned once more to the window, he
stared at his wife, her face was turned towards the house now, she
was looking at him. He knew she sensed it, she always seemed to sense
what he sensed, it was their bond. And now there was to be another parting of
that bond, perhaps forever? Whatever they planned for him, he must make sure
his wife and daughter would not be harmed.

He went to say goodbye.

[problem_child]

Arnold.

The electric light burst into his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, in pain.

"Thank you, you may leave us." said a voice, different from any of the ones
he'd heard so far, deep, commanding.

There was silence for awhile, he sat there, on the hard chair, trying not to
fall off (they beat you when you fell) his wrists behind his back, the cuffs
digging into his flesh. He tried not to shiver in the cool air, his bare feet
against the cold stone floor.

The silence dragged on, he began to wonder when the questions would begin
again, Who-, Where-, Why-, What-, We Need To Know The Situation! Delerious
with lack of sleep he had tried to tell them everything, anything, all.
Nothing worked, they were never satisfied. He was cold, naked, hungry,
fatigued and confused, and beaten into compliant passivity.

"You seem quite the worse for wear young Arnold" said the voice suddenly,
conversationaly.
"I hope they have not treated you too poorly, eh?" it continued. "They might
have gotten over enthusiastic when they collected you from your home."
Arnold was not sure whether to answer, after some more silence, his lips;
cut and busted as they were, began to move "I have no connection to the Workers
Communist Initia-"
"Oh please, do not bore me with any of those tiresome
details the boys downstairs are so interested in, there is no need for that
here. No need for that. And please don't cower like that, we are both
civilised men after all, there is no need to cower" said the voice.

Arnold could smell tobacco, cigar smoke, his eyes watered through the bruises
and the bright light, he could make out blue smoke now, and a dark figure that
stood somewhere before him, on the other side of the blinding yellow light.
"Hmm, it seems the boys were abit rough when they collected you eh?, please...
forgive them, forgive us! Some of us get sooo... carried away sometimes.
Vigour, eh? Vigour for a good cause you know. Oh dear I see they have tied you
up! I thought you were just sitting like that! ha ha, I have told them so many
times not to be so crass. Ah well, what can you do- they are after all simple
men no? eh?" Arnold remained half seated in his broken posture, this was
obviously some new game, some new twist to add to the brutalities they had
inflicted on him thus far. Perhaps they had finished with his body, at least
for the moment, and now intended to concentrate on twisting his mind.

"All talked out eh Arnold m'boy? Never mind. Eh? Never mind." the voice had
turned thoughtful, almost sad. "Let me remove those bonds from your
wrists eh? then we can talk, discuss politics or something."

There was movement around him, and then the feel of large hands fiddling
with the cuffs, and then his hands were free- the pain remained. After some
moments he heard the sound of a match being struck, smelt the acrid smell of
sulphur and tensed for the intense pain that would surely come. Seconds past,
he heard the sound of puffing, and inhalation, and then a fresh cloud of smoke
surrounded him. He looked around behind him slightly and saw the tall stocky
shape of the man who owned the voice walking forward again, one hand to his
face, surrounded by billowing smoke and orange glow, another shaking out the
match, he flicked it to one side, stood before Arnold again.

"I expect you'd thought I'd be accompanied by another eh Arnold? Me, asking
the questions, friendly one moment, threatening the next, while another waits
in the shadows, silent, watchful, introspective, predatory, Hm?" The man
chuckled quietly, amused, drew on the cigar for a moment "No, no no no," he
continued gently, kindly, "it's not like that here...

No. we're not like that here."

More silence.

"Do you smoke Arnold? No? Heh, terrible habit really, not good for your health
of course, no, no a young man like you shouldn't smoke. Terrible habit. But
Indian Cigars... hmm, they are my vice. Curse the damn Indians eh? Ah well,
there are things worth risking death for yes?. They are our allies, and they
make damn fine cigars"

Arnold sat silently, tried not to collapse, grateful for the strange
interlude. The man would make his point eventually.

"I've met your fiancée by the way." said the man suddenly, as if just then
remembering. Arnold tried to control his shudders of distress, swallowed on a
dry throat. "Lovely girl, yes, lovely girl. You really have chosen well, she
is quite attractive, yes, quite quite attractive."
"Please..." said Arnold
"Please? Please? why do you ask 'Please' Arnold?"
Arnold remained silent, struggling to think of some way to answer that would
not endanger her, his beloved Ingrid.
"You don't think- oh Arnold! What do you think we are? We are not savages, I
know the girls father you realize, that's how I met her! No, a sweet girl like
young Ingrid has no place here with the likes of you and me... no no" the man
was shaking his head, a gentle smile upon his lips as if amused at the foolish
delusions of a naive child. Arnold could make out his face now, round, balding,
grey hair, bushy grey eyebrows that accentuated every thoughtful expression,
he looked like a manager, not some military thug this. He even wore a tweed
suit, tie-less and open coloured. He stood, one hand in his pocket, one hand
holding the long fat cigar between finger and thumb, he had begun to pace
slowly, staring thoughtfully at the floor. "No, I know Ingrids father.... do
you know him Arnold? Have you met him? Of course you must have... you sleep
with the mans daughter! Eh? Hah! Eh?
Ah well, perhaps not.
He travels alot after all, a soldier you see... a General no less. Yes, he is
a great man, Ingrids father, a true patriot, great man. Germany needs more men
like him you know, yes... we need more men like him." The man took another
thoughtful puff on his cigar, seemed to stare into space for a while.

Arnolds stomach remained clenched, the man was getting to him, his brand of
torture effective after all.

"Have you ever been to India Arnold? Hmm? Beautiful country... yes, very
beautiful country. The people, the land, not like the beauty of Germany of
course, different from Germany, oh yes quite different. Nonetheless quite
beautiful. We owe them don't you think? They keep the Persians from our door
after all, they don't have a choice of course but still. Our allies.

You don't agree Arnold?"

Arnold said nothing, stared at the stone floor.

"No, of course not, no. You are a Republican after all are you not. Hmm. We
are whored to fight the Persians by the Schwarzesreich eh? the Western
Military/Industrial Complex, that's what you lot believe isn't it? Hm?" The
man grinned gently down at Arnold thoughtfully. He had stopped his slow pacing
again, standing in front of Arnold, puffing on the cigar.

"You intellectuals hm? You should not be so selfish you know, so... involved
with your own personal lives, petty freedoms. That's why your government had
to go you understand.

Yes. That's why your government.... yes. Had to go. Had to." he shrugged.

Thoughtful silence, puff puff. And then-

"You know the other day, at the inauguration ceremony of our new provisional
government the man who runs this country made a speech, a beautiful speech,
really, wonderful, very inspiring. But one sentence struck me in particular,
one that I wish to share with you now.

He said to me... he said: 'All men and women in this country now truly share a
common bond, each man, and each woman; is now truly a Patriot, bonded by the
love for our great nation'."

The man smiled thoughtfully, fondly, remembering the speech. Arnold remained
silent.

"Yes, a great speech. Everybody, Every-body, every human being in Germany- now
truly one. Even the Deutch-Grecco, and the Deutch-Indy, the Deutch-Tec, we
are all Patriots." There was a silence. The man was staring levelly at Arnold
now, staring into his eyes, something hard and unsympathetic shone in his gaze.

He continued "Do you know what that means Arnold? Eh? That means all
Germans, all real people in Germany... except tourists obviously," he scoffed
jokily "all are Patriots. All real people here.... are Patriots.

Hm?

And non-Patriots? Eh? Ah... well, obviously... non-Patriots can't be people can
they, because people in this country.... real people, human beings, are
Patriots. You do see? You do understand what I'm saying Arnold?" asked the man
with a raised eyebrow, starring down at Arnold earnestly like a man discussing
the higher principals of Chinese Existentialism.

"It wasn't always like this though," he resumed, pacing slowly again "not when
your lot ran things. Terrible times then Arnold, terrible times... young people
like you lacked discipline you see, wasn't your fault of course, you were raised
in the Republic after all, how could you know any better."

Puff, slowly pace, puff puff, pace, pace. And then-

"I can see you're clearly a man of the utmost intelligence, a very bright young
man certainly, perhaps- in a way, even Enlightened. The problem with you
though Arnold, the problem with you, the problem you've got... in my
opinion, is that you were betrayed by your education, you see.

Taught wrong.

You, the workers, a lot of people- some who should of known better... all
misguided by weak willed republicanism, selfishness.

Pace, pace-

"No Stamina you see... no passion, no loyalty no patriotism.

No commitment.

That's why the India effort went so wrong one would guess... humiliating,
terrible. Terrible thing. Shouldn't have happened to Germany's own, no...
shouldn't have happened. Not to our brave lads. Makes for poor Leadership,
Republicanism. Cowardly Leadership.

You know, the other day, the man who runs this country said to me he said
'Whenever you run across somebody you think would really p*ss me off
Christofer, I want you to try to take a moment to explain to them how to be
more constructive, more useful, to the nation... as a whole'.

Heh?

Hm?"

Arnold remained silent. The man- Christopher, puffed on the cigar, its
burning tip glowed orange in front of the cruel/kindly eyes that held Arnolds
gaze like twin iron nails. He let the quote hang in the air. The cigar
smoke continued to rise in the space between them, drifting in the yellow beam
of the electric light.

[problem_child]

Siegfreid.

"Ah, General Siegfreid Van Olson I believe? I am Colonel Victor Mienhoff,
welcome, I am pleased you agreed to come" said the man, as if he'd had a
choice. Short and plum, his black uniform featureless, Mienhoffs bland eyes
starred out of a hairless head from behind wire eye-glasses "This, is Marshal
Martin Braum, of the 1st Army" he indicated the man to his left, who nodded
curtly, clipping his heels "A pleasure Herr General" "And this is General Carl
Gruttenbourge, 33rd Cavalry" continued Victor Mienhoff of the tall dark haired
man to his right, who in turn tipped his head, then straightened. "And General
Herman Strictt" he indicated the next man, "General Strictt is presiding over
Logistic Division for the Southern Front." the thin blond haired man with the
tight face clicked his ankled boots together sharply, "Herr General, an
honour"
"This is Governor Hector Wiessman, Acquisition Control, Governor Pieter
Johannson, from the Workforce Office, Martin Gruemann, Information and
Propaganda..." the men, dark suited, middle-aged, sharp eyed, nodded and
greeted Siegfreid stiffly. "Colonel Frederic Schenkle, from the
External Security and Intelligence Thinktank-" the hard eyed man in the iron
grey uniform nodded and clipped ankles "and finally, but certainly by no means
least- General Hienric Kissinger, from the Provisional Strategic and Civil
Command Junta. General Kissinger is chairing the affair.
The General Kisinger, tall and jowly stepped forward, nodded, eyes analysing
from behind thick black rimmed glasses. "Gentlemen, Herr General, of course
General Olson and I have already met" he said in a deep voice.
Siegfreid nodded, replied "Indeed we have Herr General, it is.... good to
see you again. It has been a long time." Siegfreid remembered Kissinger from
Operation French Protection, the pre-India campaigns that the previous
Republican administration had commanded to neutralize the former little Persian
client-state of France.

He hadn't liked Kissinger then, as Operation Commander, the man had made a
dirty- messy war, and he had run it from home, no doubt to keep himself close
to the games of power that had resulted in his place in the Junta
now.

The ten of them stood for a moment upon the polished marble floor. Above them,
the spaces beneath the high, domed ceilinged hall was filled with diagonal
rays of sunlight.
"I must say you have chosen a most spectacular location for
our meeting" said Strictt, admiring the beautiful baroque architecture of
arches and angels that towered above them, and the painted naked and robed
figures, and billowing white cloud against blue sky that decorated the ceiling.
"Yes. In fact it is a question of necessity Herr General, the Junta is of
course concerned about security, we need a suitable building for these things-
and the Chapel suggests itself, for now.

The Sistine has been used as a kind of emergency meeting place ever since the
Junta seized power, with the Palace just across the river, but still damaged
from the Blue Republics final stand... why not the Chapel?." "The Junta?"
asked Braum "Ahh, the Junta, so that's whose in charge now" said Governor
Johannson ironically "I take it you too have been out of the new loop then
Govornor" stated Colonel Schenkle, dryly. "Hah, when even the spy masters are
out of the loop, you know we're in completely unknown territory!" joked Martin
Grueman "All will be explained shortly" reassured Hienric Kissinger, his manner
indicated he was taking over the lead from Colonel Mienhoff, as they sat
down in the chairs around the simple wooden table.

"Well gentlemen, we have alot of work to get through today, so, let us begin."

Mienhoff picked up and opened a briefcase by his seat, and began withdrawing
paperwork. General Kissinger, and some of the others who also had
briefcases, with them, did likewise.

"Mienhoff will be taking the minutes, we will break for lunch and
refreshments at some point, after which I will need to speak to some of you
alone. But first things first.

"As you all know, as of Thursday of last week- the Bismarck Republic of
Germany, is officially dissolved. The Army has decided it would be best to
maintain the pretence of the Republic for a month after Von Bismarcks demise
of course, until we could re-arrange things. You are all part of the Junta
now, " said Kissinger.

"As you may know the Schwarzesreiche has enambled us to be here today, they
share some of our objectives, they wish to see the emergance of a
Persian Reich in the South no more then we do. Their money helped fund our
coupe, and gentlemen, their money- and their iron supplies, and most crucially
their armoured assault vehicle technology, is what is going to help us re-start
the war." There were sounds and reactions of surprise at this, muttered voices
or raised eyebrows and exchanged glances from all but Kissinger and Mienhoff.

"Let us hope we can raise a better effort for our Indian friends then last
time, eh" remarked General Strictt.
"We are not going to repeat the mistakes of those fools, our ambitions stretch
beyond merely halting the Persian advance into India. Expect no half
measures, no inept mission-creeping failure of initiative. You are here today
not just to receive orders, you see the Junta believes the future of Germany
lies entirely, on the complete strategic domination of the
continent, both military, and economic. With our English friend Mr Smith and
that import/export corporation of his, the corporation that we, the new
government of Germany now control, and the financial and technical aid of our
Zulu allies across the ocean- the Junta intends to turn Germany into a war
machine, and engine of conquest. We intend to build a German Reich. The
first step- is the complete defeat of Persia within five years."

The men shuffled grimly, the spark of power lighting the eyes of some, troubled
expressions flickering across the faces of others. Siegfreid remained
impassive, inside his heart sank, for a moment he thought again of his wife,
his study in the mountains, and then he thought of the blood that stained his
hands from the forced betrayals in India, the men lost through
over-extension and cowardly under-committal. He thought of his daughter,
bright eyed young political romantic, her radical free thinking friends, that
fiancée journalist of hers, all now to live in an 'engine of conquest'. He
truly wanted peace, but now he knew that the new rulers wanted war. But then,
then he thought of the ever expansionist Persia... and the soldier in him could
not help but be roused. Germany would be threatened directly if it was not
stopped, and what would become of them all, under Xerxes regime.

"Gentlemen, we are gathered here today to discuss what is to be known
as Operation BlitzReach. Total war on Persia."

The meeting continued, they discussed the assignment of land forces, the
cavalry units and infantry divisions to be employed, and the building of the
new tank-corps, their addition to General Gruttenbourges command, who would be
under Siegfriend. They estimated logistical requirements, consulted and
conjectured with General Stictt of Southern Logistics. They estimated
schedules, build-times, projected losses, projected gains, materiel and
personnel requirements, and analysed Colonel Schenkles intelligence reports on
the state of the Indian conscript-armies and their resistance, still struggling
under the onslaught of Monarchic Persia. They talked of the contributions of
the Resurgent Roman Republic, further south- its forces dividing the Persian
effort. Governor Hector Wiessman advised on the priorities for extraction and
transport of acquired resources. Of the need for rapid expansion of the rail
network.

"We need workers, more workers" entreated Pieter Johannson of
Workforce "The destruction of infrastructure in France alone is too
much for us to manage with what we have, seven years after conquest, now you
propose this new adventure, you must give me more workers!
We simply don't have the raw man-power at this time to meet infrastructure
demands! Roads, mines, track, your materiel’s will not appear from thin air!"

The meeting rumbled on.

"It is likely I think, that we are going to have to annihilate the
Persian cities beyond the East River, Tyre and Antioch certainly. It's a
political issue, and we cannot control such large and vehemently opposed
populations in that region" stated Kissinger.
"Suitable candidates for heavy labour Mr Johannson, will be selected from the
population, their elites, officials, intellectuals- all those of any standing
in the old-order will be processed by Schenkles boys in External
Security, and they too, if their suitable to hard labour, will be for you to
have your pick Johannson. The some, that we can't afford the bullets to
deal with so to speak, we'll send back into Persia, cause a refugee crisis for
them, swamp their capacities, the rest..." he left the silence hang. The men
glanced at each over, grim, stony faced. Siegfreid looked away, disturbed.
"Well, Collateral Damage of course, there is always collateral damage.
Unavoidable civilian loss of life, even when we ourselves take it for
strategic purposes, it is unpleasant business but it must be so, Braum, you
will head the brigades specific to the business." stated Kissinger. "Let us
move on."

Hours passed. The meeting moved to issues of materiel for the operation.

"I've been to the Schwarzesreich, to Zimbabwe, I've seen what these Tanks can
do, I say we use the new corps, and Gruttenbourges cavalry
brigades, and strike deep into Persian Azteciland. Yes it is a stretch
across near wildness, un-defended wilderness, we go where the enemy is not.
We hit their forces deep in-country, where we know they are week. They depend
on the slowness of our infantry, and the vulnerabilies of cavalry in defence,
they depend on convential military practice. It is because of this that we can
put them on the defensive in a single stroke- we needn't respect their
conventionnel expectations. Suprise! Unconvention! This is how I dreamed of
ending the war last time, were it not for Bismarchs damned senate." insisted
Siegfreid at one point, countering Kissingers suggestion of an infantry
centred invasion of north-Persian territory, using fast units to hary the
Persians, while infantry and artillery units pressed south directly against
the enemies north-western advance.

Time passed, they argued, and negotiated, and analysed and strategize.
Eventually the outlines of their plan emerged, Operation BlitzReach took form.
The timescale of initiation, the methods and tactics, order of attack,
priorities, contingencies, objectives.

~

They broke for lunch, servants appeared with trolleys of food, and wine, and
glasses. They stood talking now in small groups, talking casually as they
sipped wine and ate sandwiches while the three servants stood politely by.
Kissinger took Siegfreid aside,
"A word if you would Herr General" he said.
"Certainly" said Siegfreid.
"It is not just for the construction of BlitzReach that you have been invited
here today General" said Kissinger "You see, the Junta- the Combined Chiefs of
the Army... we are a leadership, without a leader. We look like a committee,
to the people. The German people do not like rule by committee, look what
happened to the Republic.." he chuckled softly. "Anyway, we need a face, a
figurehead. We have solved the problem of politicos General, the days of rule
by civilian government may return one day, when we have made Germany secure,
ordered the continent. Until then, what we need is a... a king if you will,
an appointed Monarch, a... a Furher." Kissingers eyes bored into Siegfreids,
metallic, reading. General Siegfreid was not sure he understood exactly where
the General was going, but slowly it started to dawn on him. "What we need is
you Herr General. I suggested you myself, to the PSCCJ, a fighting General-
seen to be responsible for the future of nation. After the Persion operation,
which you will surely win, and command- you will no longer command armies, but
be seen to command the nation. As a servant of the Junta of course."
"What makes you think I want to be your Furher?" demanded Siegfreid calmly. "We
know you love your country Herr General" replied Kissinger "you will do it for
your country, for your family... please Herr General, do not make me expand on
our determination to have you as our nations Furher, your soon-to-be son-in-law
could testify... it is difficult to shun ones duty." Siegfreid was puzzled by
this remark.
"My daughters fiancée? What has he to do with-" and then he saw it, saw the
message in the remark. They had arrested him, Arnold, would probably have
tortured him. The message was plain, they could afford to strong-arm him
through his daughters beloved to make him obey them, but if he refused, they
would easily strike at others close to his family, they may even strike
at his wife and daughter directly.
"The people need to know who's in charge General, they need a strong man, a
leader. You are the one we want, you have the reputation, you are descent
and honourable and true, truly a noble strong-man. And Siegfreid-" General
Kissinger put one hand lightly upon Siegfreids shoulder, who cocked his head
to look at it, before bringing only his eyes back up to stare back at
Kissinger, cold and dangerous.

"There's something about the way you talk to people, they... love you. Did you
know that? Not just your troops, the People love you. Hah! Why
do you think the Republic kept you out in India all this time eh?
Haha!

You will make an excellent warrior-king Herr General."

He removed his hand from the Generals shoulder, Siegfreid radiated
steel-rage, cold- unmoving, sharp, but so outwardly calm that none of the other
men of BlitzReach noticed the quiet 'conversation' between the two.

"Of course the real leader Herr General," continued Kissinger "The real
leader still leads. As ever he did, but through the Junta now. And the Junta
Herr General, the Junta has chosen the peoples Furher.

You."

[problem_child]

huh... that wasn't so bad... copy/paste*3, a little vB code, and it's done. I will be less lazy in future

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Thanks, it would be nice to see what becomes of Siegfreid if you continue this.

Once again good stuff!!

[steamthunk]

I must say that people probably write about the German civ more than any other around here (including me). Good start. Thought the interrogation was the best part so far. Felt the story could have moved a bit quicker though and the first part especially had some rather long sentences that made it difficult to read. Try breaking stuff down to more sentences.

[problem_child]

Yeah, okay. Actually I'm abit of a fan of long sentances, I try to be disciplined and keep em short but sometimes I forget.

I will bear advice in mind next time steam.

[problem_child]

^I would realy appreciate fresh feedback on this, I can't even think about writing more stuff with so little feedback on this.

Perhaps you think it is a good thing if I do not write more? Then say so guys!

[ChrisiusMaximus]

No no do not deprive us you did a very good job with this. The problem with the feedback issue is well known here, most of the stories get little feedback but as you can normally tell by the views counter far more people have read it. One tip might be to only post short parts and wait for people to start asking for more before the next installment and as Steamthunk said shorter sentences and more paragraphs. I think most people find it easier to read with plenty of spaces between the text.

I myself wish more of the people reading these stories would take the time to comment whether good or bad as constructive criticism is very useful to the writer. Not only that though some of the actual writers who complain about a lack of feedback dont seem to give support to the other writers so the problem is bigger than meets the eye.

Finally Problem Child please write some more as I myself would be glad to read and offer my thoughts.

[problem_child]

I am appeased, and amicableized.

Jus gimme some time to buy and play PTW a bit, (and get GTA3 out of my system) and I will provide- more. And your right, I myself havent been providing much feedback in this forum. There was this one story where a guy called General Crius or something sends his arch-enemy some Ham for his birthday, I thought that section was hilarius!

Anyway, more feedback for everybody! More feedback all round.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

No problemo.