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Chapter 4

The Other Side

In March of 2011, a D.A.F.A.Z. POW gets the chance to speak with a news reporter about his capture. His name is Josef Hoffman.

"'Twas a chilly day, around thirty degrees many months ago. That was when I saw him. I woke up that morning at camp, I put on my equipment and I quickly cleaned my weapon as usual. I remember the camp was relatively close to Media Line road as well. Dangerous, considering there was a squad of Guardsmen camped at the old auto shop on the corner," recalls Hoffman. He adjusts his position on the hard wooden bench.

The reporter too, adjusts his position. The wooden benches of the mess hall are still quite uncomfortable even with so many layers of protective clothing. He asks Hoffman "What led to the skirmish that resulted in your capture?" Hoffman takes a sip of his stale, lukewarm coffee. He grimaces as it goes down.

"Hm, well, myself, Hauptmann Klinger, Gefreiter Gage, and another soldier I cannot recall at this moment, were with around fifteen to twenty others. We had circled around behind the high school and made our way towards Media Line road to see if we couldn't catch our enemy off guard. We were going down the street and one of our men with an anti-tank weapon was shot by a sniper. The rocket fired and flew towards the school, exploding fairly close to the wall."

"And what happened then? Was anyone else immediately injured?" asks the reporter, setting his recorder down on the table and leaning back against the wall.

Hoffman briefly loses his train of thought because of the interruption, but lets it go and gets back on track. He looks down at his feet and continues. "I don't think anyone else was killed outright, but I remember someone being hit in the arm. We couldn't get to him so we made a run for the driveway leading up the side of the school. From there we provided cover for a few of our comrades." he pauses, expecting another question from the reporter.

"I heard this is where you were captured by a civilian fighter? Was that not behind the school?"

"Yes," continues Hoffman, "we decided it would be best to make a loop around the building and take out the enemy from behind."

"What went wrong?"

"We heard a click, barely audible against all the fighting behind us, where wewere though, it was relatively quiet. We stopped briefly when Der Hauptmann -"

"Um, sorry but could you speak -"

"Yes yes, my apologies," says Hoffman. "Dummer Amerikaner," he mutters under his breath. "As I was saying, when the Captain stopped and asked if we heard something, he told us it was a faint clicking sound. This concerned him. During the time he spent with the Marines, he tells us that he was walking through a grassy area and stepped on an anti-personnel mine. The click was similar and it scared him greatly. We slowly made our way around the corner at this point. This was our mistake. We went around the corner in a line staggered outwards from the corner. Being I was the furthest behind, I saw everything happen in detail."

"And what exactly happened? Who went down first? Were you injured?"

"Nein, I meant to say, no. No, I was not injured. We were all around the corner, we were moving a bit too fast and did not see the men in the snow. The first shot hit the Captain, throwing off his helmet, which he tended to leave unfastened, and shattered his protective goggles, throwing him against the wall. There was blood everywhere and nothing of the right side of his head. The soldier I cannot recall received a revolver round between his eyes. Gefrieter Gage was grabbed from behind by a fighter wielding a knife. It was driven into the back of his neck and he was killed instantly. It had severed his vertebrae." He looks up at the ceiling as he says this, a sickly look on his face. He sighs and takes a sip of his stale coffee again, now cold.

"What did they do afterwards? Were you attacked?"

"No. The better equipped of the three walked up to me. He spoke with an odd accent. He almost sounded British, but the ferocity in his eyes screamed American. When he spoke he surprised me. He looked me in the eye and spoke politely, but with a sharp and serious voice, one I will not forget. He was also unusually calm for the situation we were in."

"Could you describe these men for me?"

"Let me start with the easiest one. The cat. In his gear he looked like a very intimidating individual. He stood straight, even with all his equipment. He was large, but you could tell he was not fat. One of his eyes was an odd shade of red, the other was blue. He was equipped no differently than your average soldier, very well prepared. The taller one was an odd sight as well. He appeared to be a second-in-command. He wore a uniform just like the cats, but he had a large, clumsy looking black protective vest over that. Over top of that he had on an olive drab, wool trench coat, which made him seem even taller. On his left hand he had this menacing and oddly fascinating glove. It had three very large razor sharp claws on it, and in his other hand carried the revolver that killed, I remember his name now, Donald. The third one was a peculiar one. He was shorter and a tad wider, but still a tall individual. His uniform was different in pattern, but he wore a protective vest like the other two, but had no helmet or gear. I only saw him holding the knife that killed Gage."

"And next?"

"They searched and restrained me with duct tape and brought me around to the front of the school. After that, it took about two days for me to end up here"

After a few more questions the reporter is satisfied and Hoffman is led back to his barracks. He will survive the war, and he will live every day with that day, January fourth, stuck in his mind forever as if it were yesterday.