I awoke to the sound of thunder. Or, so I thought. The wind chilled my cheeks, frosting my eyelashes. I could barely see. Where was I? What was I doing? There was a violent movement, and suddenly I found myself flying through the night, hurtling to my death, 2000 feet above the ground. I suddenly remembered. The thud of a cannon was all I needed to remind me. To remind me where I was; hell. I am William "B.J." Blazkowicz. We were paratrooping into Deathshead's compound. At least, we were supposed to. I was hurtling at a great speed, without a parachute. It was absolute hell. The compound was a hell of its own. Many atrocities were committed there that made places like Buchenwald look like heaven. At the time, the only thing on my mind was death. Then again, every soldier will always think about this dark, infamous, figure. Death was spelled with a bullet, a knife, or even a panzer. Death was everywhere. At the time, I thought I was ready. Oh, well, I thought. At least I'll die quickly. As I was about to become sea sauce, an unseen force knocked me sideways, carrying me. I thought death had gripped me in its icy hands, carrying me off to either above, or below. Instead, it slowed down, gently delivering me onto the shore. It was the early morning of August 8th, 1946. This war had been going on forever. The Nazis have turned to the occult, abandoned science, in hopes of earning a response from their dark gods. The whole world knew the war would end soon, it was only a question of who would win. I rose groggily, and started for the nearest moving figure i glimpsed. Halt! He cried. I had no choice but to surrender. He had a schmeisser, after all. Komm mit mir! Jetzt! I approached him slowly, with my hands behind my head. His head suddenly exploded into bits of brain and bone. "Ha-ha! Ye jammy bastard!". It was a voice I recognised. Good old fergie, I thought. "Aye there, Blazko! Thank the maker! I knew ye'd make it, ye bloated bumpkis!" I smiled at him. "Nice to see you too, Fergus. We'd better move. Others are bound to be near." He rolled his eyes. "Let's hope the bugger was taking a piss, eh Blazko?" I responded, "With our luck, probably yes." We heard attack dogs begin to howl in the distance. He smiled devilishly and said "I guess they're all comin' to take a piss to, eh? Too much damn lager!" With that, we ran off, away from the howls, into a possible refuge: a cave. They haven't found us yet. I hope we survive until reinforcements come. If they do. Meanwhile, me and Fergus will explore the compound. We're coming up with a plan. Sneak in there, and radio for reinforcements. Why am I writing this? I don't really know. I can't talk to Fergus, he's not much of a sentimental. Lost his brother in the First One. After that, he just learned to "Fire and Forget" as they say. But this mission requires no sentimentality. I will leave this behind, as well as a bit of my humanity. But sacrifices must be made. I just want to end this war. That's all I want.
"Blazko put yer pen down! The bastards are comin'!" His Irish accent cut briskly through the winter chill, jarring me out of my thoughts. He was ready, cradling a schmeisser in his arms. I nabbed a steyr solothurn mp34 lying nearby. The cave had turned out to be an ammo/weapons cache. We could hear them, closer now. "Let's light up the bastards, eh Blazko?" he said with a devilish grin. "Yeah. Let's." I replied, smirking. We cocked our guns, then ran out into the cold winter air, guns blazing, with bullets speeding to meet us.