Heinz peered outside the window of his Kubelwagen. Refugees expulsed from what used to be Western Poland lined the road to Warsaw. Heinz shrugged, they were expulsed to the General government zone to make room for ethic Germans moving into the parts of Poland directly annexed by the Reich.
He drove on, driving past the ghettos were Polish Jews and other untermenschwere being kept until transfer to various "camps" in the general government zone. Very few other cars were on the road, as fuel was very strictly rationed. However various pieces of derbis on the road more then made up for it.
The SS captain heard various yells coming from the right of him, gazing out his window once more he noticed an cafe, with many soldiers of the Heer occupying it. An Panzer III sat firmly infront of the cafe, causing the seasoned SS officer to double blink. His car slid to a halt, kicking up snow in every direction. He opened the door, stepping outside into the bitter cold, dressed warmly in a insulated leather trench.
Most of the soldiers seemed tired or stoggy, but soon snapped to attention when they noticed the silver totenkopf attached to his officer's cap. He strolled over to the livest looking soldier and spoke in his lightly accented voice.
"Soldat, what has happened here? Report."
"Gestapo, not Soldat," Peter replied bluntly to the SS officer who had just arrived on the scene before saluting. Peter himself was retrieving his tab from where he had left it on the table, holstering his Luger pistol at the same time. "I was sitting here eating breakfast when an assualt occurred between two patrons of this establishment. Naturally, I tried to re-store order. I presume the owner of the cafe..."
Peter explained, pointing to a fat and sweaty red-faced man, "did not know who these people were. The two assualt suspects fled shortly before the soldiers arrived. I am, however, bringing these people to questioning at City Hall."
Peter felt the chills go down his spine as he talked to the SS officer. He had never particularly enjoyed the company of an SS officer, they always had something...wrong with them. He didn't know how quite to put it, but, it was like someone had the bright idea of opening every mental institution in the world, taking the most sick and depraved people out of them and placing them in positions of power.
Pulling his trench-coat back on, Peter watched as soldiers from the Heer lined up those who were wanted for questioning up against the wall; their rifles pointed directly at their backs and their fingers resting lazily on the triggers.
"If you so wish, you may join me in questioning these suspects, or, I can give you the descriptions of the two suspects who fled. I believe one of them was a Jew, if that was any interest to you." Peter said to the SS officer, attempting to be polite before he got on with the rest of his day. He would have to file these people in the Gestapo log book, question them and all sorts of boring things he would have rather not had to do today.
Heinz always liked to search the areas himself, even if his fellow SS men already did. He trusted his own senses above anyone else's. Besides, these men seemed tired and stoggy as he noticed before. He gazed back at the lower ranking Gestapo agent. "Sicherheitsdienst," Heinz said, sending part of his arm out of his trench coat briefly to expose the SD emblem stitched onto his left sleeve.
"Detain the untermensch for questioning, I shall begin my own search."
The SD Captain stepped away from the Gestapo agent and began his search of the cafe, much to the ire of the collected Heer and Gestapo men. Herr Heinz searched the cellar, and found obvious signs of Resistance activity; such as weapons and plans. He did not find any escape hatches, which lead him to believe that the basement had been empty during the time of the assault.
Heinz, shook his head at the Gestapo's incomptence. He motioned Peter and a couple of his men into the cellar. "How did an entire company of you dumkopfs managed to miss this? I have never seen such condensed stupidity..." He sighed, rubbing his temples for a moment before speaking.
"Kriminalinspektor, let us go and question the suspects. The rest of you, go and play with sticks. Be grateful I don't put in a word to high command and cut off your tobacco and alochol rations." He waved the soldiers off. They left to the upper part of the cafe, grumbling. Heinz followed them upstairs, strolling towards the Poles lined up agasint the wall.
The SD Captain stood infront of the suspects. "Listen, you have families, loved ones ja?" He motioned for the soldiers to turn them around. An Unterfeldwebel barked in Polish for the suspects to turn around, most of them complying rather then feel the wraith of the Gestapo.
"I realize most of you are fighting for freedom. For liberation. You also must realize the good guys, as you must think of yourselves do not always win in reality. Your friends will be found out one way or another so you may aswell save your own hide. Oh, and if you lie, I'll know.
"I've been in this business for seven years so I know a liar when I see one. Understood? Gut, let's begin."
He began calmly questioning the suspects one by one.
Peter bit his lip as Heinz began questioning suspects. He felt as though he was betraying someone as terrifyed citizens forked over infromation and descriptions, and winced as several patrons gave the perfect description of the Polish Jew. Curly sandy blonde hair ending just under his chin, brown eyes, standing at about five-foot-six, pale... He looked down at his hand, thinking that he could still feel the Jew's skin through the fabric of his glove.
"Gestapo." Peter jumped as he was shocked away from his daydream, and flushed in embarassment at the look Herr Heinz threw at him. "Gestapo, you and the Wehrmacht are dismissed. I found nothing about this resistance movement, and so the Poles will be free to go," the SD Captain barked, before turning sharply on his heel and returning to his Kubelwagen.
Peter stepped back within the confines of City Hall. Rubbing the back of his neck exhaustively, Peter dragged himself to his desk. Taking off his trench-coat, he set his Luger on his hardwood desk as he listened to the monotonous click-clack of the typewriters of fellow Gestapo agents filing their reports. Waving forward one of the secretaries and asking her to get him a cup of coffee, Peter turned himself towards his own typewriter and began filing out a report of today's strange and chaotic events.
As he typed, however, Peter's mind began to wander. Who was that little Jew boy in the cafe? Although he probably shouldn't, Peter couldn't help but think about him. What inspired him to so...brazenly walk out into public, even though he probably knew he would be sent to the Ghetto if he was caught? Who was that silver-tonged devil that he ended up giving the Jew to? Perhaps, one day, Peter would meet up with the Jew-boy again. Peter smirked to himself as he realized that he cared more about that single Jew than capturing a cafe's worth of weapons from the resistance; he must be the odd man out. Nodding to the secretary as she brought him his cup of coffee, Peter took a small sip and began to type away.
He had much to write about, after all.