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Wraggles To The Rescue!
- Thread starter Wragg
- Start date
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- original story
RacingRodent
Consul
Wait a minute! In this story I am a resistance...owl?
Racing Rodents and Ohmic Owls...makes perfect sense to me
Ted Parry
Governor
I've had to ask a wise owl for help with my Deutsch, short delay on the next part.
Just throw in a few "donner unt blitzens" and "got in himmels" .... it'll be fine .......
Oh, that's good Eul! 
Brilliant, but shouldn't we keep this vintage thread in it's correct period? (Ooh, maybe this isn't very politically correct?...)
The first part of the plan went remarkably smoothly.
After what seemed an age of waiting, six SS stormtroopers marched along the road towards the clearing where Messaline was crucified. By now a gibbous moon had risen and there was some light, but not enough for them to see murky shapes emerge from the bushes beside the road.
It was done silently, mercilessly, and effectively. Six knives slid into six ribcages, and six hearts stopped beating, ending six fairly despicable lives, in less than a few seconds. The men relieved them of their weapons, and pushed the bodies into the hedges.
‘SS-Rottenführer’ (Corporal) Repertor led the squad as they resumed the march towards their overnight guard duty. Wraggles and the others wore the uniforms of SS-Schützen, privates. Privates in most armies were taught to be seen and not heard, reflected Wraggles, praying that he wouldn’t be called upon to say anything.
Gradually it dawned upon him that the noise he could hear was a truck, and that the truck was coming along the road behind them.
“Raus aus dem Weg, Idioten!“ bawled Repertor, a little too much in character for Wraggles‘ liking. Nevertheless he leapt out of the road. Even in the moonlight the truck was, all too clearly, in the employment of the German military. Wraggles fingered his gun nervously.
The truck ground to a halt. A man, clearly an officer, stepped out, and Repertor saluted. Wraggles and the others followed suit, the necessity of performing the hated Nazi salute was irksome but necessary for survival. Wraggles wished he’d looked up the SS uniforms.
“Ich dachte,“ remarked the officer, “wir hätten nur sechs geschickt?“ ’What the hell does that mean?‘ wondered Wraggles.
“Nein, Herr Untersturmführer,“ replied Repertor, “ Es gab sieben Männer, bestimmt!“ It dawned on Wraggles that they’d replaced a squad of six with an extra man! Yet none of them would have volunteered to stay behind.
The officer considered, and then shrugged. One less man would have been more of a problem… “Hör genau zu. Ich werde das nur einmal sagen. Wir glauben, dass ein sehr gefährlicher feindlicher Agent, namens Barbara Worralson, mit einem Fallschirm in der Nähe gelandet ist. Sie wird vermutlich versuchen, Messaline zu retten. Sie had den Köder angebissen! Wir wollen das sie lebendig verhaftet wird! “
Wraggles was not following at all well, but he certainly picked up the words “Barbara Worralson” and “Messaline” amongst the incomprehensible speech. For sure, whatever the problem was, these women were at the bottom of it!
“Lass Ihre Männer sofort einsteigen, Rottenführer!“
“Jawohl, Herr Untersturmführer!“ Repertor snapped to attention and turned to us. "Alle einsteigen! Schnell!"
Wraggles, with a sense of impending doom, followed the others on the double into the waiting truck. He sat down next to Loxuru. “What the hell was that all about?” he hissed.
“They know about Barb. They say that she’s a secret agent. Now Messaline is the bait, and she’s coming to rescue her. We, it seems, are the trap!”
After what seemed an age of waiting, six SS stormtroopers marched along the road towards the clearing where Messaline was crucified. By now a gibbous moon had risen and there was some light, but not enough for them to see murky shapes emerge from the bushes beside the road.
It was done silently, mercilessly, and effectively. Six knives slid into six ribcages, and six hearts stopped beating, ending six fairly despicable lives, in less than a few seconds. The men relieved them of their weapons, and pushed the bodies into the hedges.
‘SS-Rottenführer’ (Corporal) Repertor led the squad as they resumed the march towards their overnight guard duty. Wraggles and the others wore the uniforms of SS-Schützen, privates. Privates in most armies were taught to be seen and not heard, reflected Wraggles, praying that he wouldn’t be called upon to say anything.
Gradually it dawned upon him that the noise he could hear was a truck, and that the truck was coming along the road behind them.
“Raus aus dem Weg, Idioten!“ bawled Repertor, a little too much in character for Wraggles‘ liking. Nevertheless he leapt out of the road. Even in the moonlight the truck was, all too clearly, in the employment of the German military. Wraggles fingered his gun nervously.
The truck ground to a halt. A man, clearly an officer, stepped out, and Repertor saluted. Wraggles and the others followed suit, the necessity of performing the hated Nazi salute was irksome but necessary for survival. Wraggles wished he’d looked up the SS uniforms.
“Ich dachte,“ remarked the officer, “wir hätten nur sechs geschickt?“ ’What the hell does that mean?‘ wondered Wraggles.
“Nein, Herr Untersturmführer,“ replied Repertor, “ Es gab sieben Männer, bestimmt!“ It dawned on Wraggles that they’d replaced a squad of six with an extra man! Yet none of them would have volunteered to stay behind.
The officer considered, and then shrugged. One less man would have been more of a problem… “Hör genau zu. Ich werde das nur einmal sagen. Wir glauben, dass ein sehr gefährlicher feindlicher Agent, namens Barbara Worralson, mit einem Fallschirm in der Nähe gelandet ist. Sie wird vermutlich versuchen, Messaline zu retten. Sie had den Köder angebissen! Wir wollen das sie lebendig verhaftet wird! “
Wraggles was not following at all well, but he certainly picked up the words “Barbara Worralson” and “Messaline” amongst the incomprehensible speech. For sure, whatever the problem was, these women were at the bottom of it!
“Lass Ihre Männer sofort einsteigen, Rottenführer!“
“Jawohl, Herr Untersturmführer!“ Repertor snapped to attention and turned to us. "Alle einsteigen! Schnell!"
Wraggles, with a sense of impending doom, followed the others on the double into the waiting truck. He sat down next to Loxuru. “What the hell was that all about?” he hissed.
“They know about Barb. They say that she’s a secret agent. Now Messaline is the bait, and she’s coming to rescue her. We, it seems, are the trap!”
Ah, the plot thickens. Plots do tend to do that nicely when Barb gets involved. She's a thickening 'agent'.
And you're all in enemy uniform. If you drop in the soup, you'll be shot as spies.
Great stuff!
Of course, they know about me and Messa too ... somebody blabbed:
loose lips sink ships, and Seagram's loosens lips!
That, ladies, is how to salute Bobinder, if you should chance to meet him!
Thanks Wragg - next time I'll try getting a posted pic manipped and back in the thread in less than 60 minutes...
windar
Teller of Tales
I recall THAT story. She wasn't very good at it, was she?
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Decidely, she's always a spy this Barb !!!
Well, it seems that it could continue for a long time for me ... so, I should sing ...
