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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Operation Ganymede - 20. Chapter 20 - The Echo of Triumph
Back at the manor, Arnfried rests before Eisenmann, eager for tales, rouses him. Their chat is cut short by a call to assemble, where Dettmann judges their missions. An unexpected announcement and a sudden interruption heighten the tension among the lads.
Back at the manor for a good hour, Arnfried sat in his room, the afternoon hush wrapping him like a blanket after an emotional squall. After reporting to the orderly at the gate and learning they had free rein till 3:00, he’d flopped onto his bed, knackered from the morning’s turmoil, slipping quick into a restless kip.
Then the door crashed open, yanking Arnfried from sleep. Eisenmann burst in, brimming with vim, and before Arnfried could sit up, the blond had plonked himself on the bed’s edge, a sack in hand, his grin lighting the place up.
“So, how’d it go?”
Arnfried, eyes still bleary, rubbed his face to clear the fog. Eisenmann’s spark was catching, and he started spilling his tale, though with a touch of reluctance at first.
“It was… a prisoner camp,” he began, sketching the haggard faces behind barred windows, the thick air of confinement. “And there was this captain, Lefeuvre—a French chap, a queer sort.”
“Queer? How so?”
“Dunno,” Arnfried said, dodging the full story.
“What was the mission?”
“Snagging stuff on an escape network."
Eisenmann, hooked, pressed for more. Arnfried carried on, not shy to polish his part a bit:
“See, he’s the camp librarian, so he can move about and chinwag with anyone. We had to hit the library—where secret meets went down,” he said, giving himself more credit than was due.
“And Heissler?”
“Pff, not much. He just kept an eye on the library.”
“What about you?”
“Me? I went with him down to the cellars—even where there’s tunnels under the camp!”
Eisenmann, plainly impressed, wanted the rest:
“And the upshot?”
“A plan I handed to our contact!”
“Crikey, that’s something!”
“But you?” Arnfried shot back, now propped up, wide awake.
“But you?” Arnfried shot back, now propped up, wide awake.
“Eh, ours didn’t pan out much,” Eisenmann said, a flicker of disappointment dimming his face.
“Rotten luck,” Arnfried said, surprised someone as sharp as the “blond” could flop.
Eisenmann was about to spill his yarn when a bellow roared up from downstairs:
“RASSEMBLEMENNNTTT!”
The lads swapped a quick look, their break cut short, duty snapping back. Eisenmann, still grinning, hopped up, leaving his empty sack at his feet, while Arnfried, roused by the tale’s buzz, felt reality’s weight settle back on his shoulders. They kitted up fast, checking their gear—the adventure on hold, but the mateship and itch to swap war stories hanging thick in the air.
The four boys, still in mission togs, stood ramrod straight, hands clasped behind, under Dettmann’s steely glare.
“BRAVO, you’re all on time! That’s a point in your favour,” the Oberleutnant barked, his voice ringing with iron-clad authority.
He jerked a thumb at the desks, just as they’d left them yesterday, beckoning each to take his spot. The lads obeyed, filing in with drilled hush.
Dettmann, tweaking his specs, pressed on:
“I’ve had a first report, and I must say the results fall short of my expectations. Too many slip-ups, too much dithering.”
Eisenmann flicked a glance at Arnfried on his left, who was already kicking himself for maybe laying it on a tad thick. But Eisenmann didn’t twig, his face blank.
Dettmann carried on, declaring:
“Only one team managed to fetch the info required.”
Arnfried, still feeling that ghost envelope between his fingers, straightened with pride. The Oberleutnant pointed him out, along with his mate, as the sole winners.
“Klein and Heissler,” he said, “you’re the only ones who pulled it off.”
Not half proud, HJ Scharführer Arnfried Klein swelled with triumph. But right then, the corridor door swung open, cutting Dettmann’s speech short. Arnfried saw Heissler, ahead of him, twist round to clock who’d dare barge in on the Oberleutnant. His underling’s face melted, Heissler’s look flipping from nosiness to fright in a flash.
Every eye swung to the door, tension coiling in the room, all braced to see who’d dared crash this crucial moment.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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