Firefight
October 2, 1988
Inter-German Border
Near Rasdorf, Free Empire of Germany
The cold wind chilled Hans to the bone. The insulated uniform jacket didn't provide much protection, yet he tightened it around him all the same. Oh how he wished that he was posted in a warm barracks somewhere behind the lines rather than doing guard duty at the Inner-German Border, but the 32nd
Panzergrenadier battalion had gotten the short straw, and here he was.
"Why does it have to be so fucking cold?!" snarled one of Hans' fellow privates. "Damn the fucking communists to hell!" In the Free Empire, it wouldn't surprise Hans if the Devil was rated more popular than Kryuchkov or Wolf - at least his authoritarian tyranny was warm. "Where is Siegfried with the coffee?"
"He's here," Siegfried called out, reaching the trenches - newly dug out following Frey's demand of a return to the Wiemar borders. "Freshly brewed, American brand."
"
Gott sei dank dafur!" Hans called out taking a cup poured from the thermos. The scalding liquid warmed his insides. American instant coffee wasn't as good as freshly brewed cups from a local
Gasthaus, but it tasted like heaven to him at this moment.
Suddenly, whatever contentment the squad had had was rudely ripped away at the piercing sirens on the communist side of the border. "
Gott im Himmell? What the fuck is going on?"
The East Germans - evil as they were - took border security very seriously. Mazes of barbed wire, trenches, pillboxes, guard towers, and minefields dotted the Inner-German border. However, these were usually designed to keep their own people in, not to keep Hans and the other soldiers of the
Befreiungsreichwehr out. As Gerhard Frey said, "Only those bathed in evil would seek to treat their citizens as caged animals." And now the cluster of soldiers and border guards manning these defenses were scurrying about like ants, searchlights stabbing through the low light of dusk across the landscape.
And the reason was soon apparent. A truck had barreled through the inner-fence, gunning for the West. It was a decrepit civilian model, one that would have been commonly owned by a trucking company... thirty years ago. Someone had crudely painted
Freunde on the hood. "Asylum-seekers," someone close to Hans whispered. Ever since Wolf took over, the flow of them had only increased, both the Chancellor and the Kaiser encouraging them to escape to freedom. No one had been this desperate before - desperate, bold, and stupid.
A burst of machine gun fire from one of the towers hit the engine block, causing the truck to slow to a stop. "Fools," another whispered, but the rapt attention turned to horror as the border guards pulled out a cluster of people - three adults, and ten children of various ages.
"What is he doing?"
"
Mein Gott!"
There was a long standing order in the East German military, the ones that guarded the border. They would shoot on sight, anyone that entered the border exclusion zone subject to that order. But Children... it meant nothing, a cruel East German - unrecognizable from some Auschwitz guard - raised his pistol and put a bullet in the back of a young girl's skull. He proceeded to the next person, a ten-year old boy.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" No one expected what happened next. Rudi, a young boy recently assigned to the unit, screamed at the top of his lungs and raised his assault rifle. He fired full auto at the East Germans, hitting two from sheer luck before a well-aimed sniper round hit him in the forehead. A kind, innocent boy, killed for defending other innocents.
For Hans and the other Panzergrenadiers, primed since birth to rise to this occasion, the evil witnessed was too much for them to remain silent. To remain passive.
Their commanding officer, a committed Freyist, gave the order. "
Feuer Frei!"
A shriek erupted from the West German lines, a fusillade of fire following. "
FREIHEIT!"