Taken by Berlin. Nicolas Scheerbarth
"17. Soon. I believe. Yeae! I'll be laik a hunter soon. Runner's stupid. You're always around, have to do everything and keep mouth shut."
"Hunter... hmm."
Klin pushes his chin forward. They sit next to each other on the stone step. Klin slightly embraces the upper arm of the girl.
"Strong enough. I'm sure you'll make a good hunter!"
The girl's eyes light up. Klin’s hand glides over the landscape of the sinewy back... his fingers grab, check...
"Strong, true!"
"Me?"
"Well, sure! Ha, now... I tell you!"
Klin laughs a short, dry, insecure laugh and finally puts his arm around her back... a brief touch, pulls her towards him like old buddies. She looks up, returns Klin’s view from the corner of her eye with twitching cheek muscles. She lowers her gaze, turns to Klin to admire the visible result of the flirting...
"Yeae true!" - Klin whispers.
Calloused and rough, the forest girl's hands grab, begin to play, stroke and rub the bulge under the wafer-thin camouflage cover. Klin grabs the naked elf between the legs, pushes one, two fingers into something damp, up and down... he himself is massaged in his camouflage material... no sound, no moaning... just up and down, back and forth. And done. They both look down at themselves for a moment... sticky drops on her pubic hair, a wet spot on his trousers. He tries to meet Herta's gaze with a crooked grin. She turns away, reaches for the water, rinses off. Klin wipes the grin off his face, raises the binoculars to the eyes...
"That was nothing though..." Herta, still hoarse from the excitement.
"Ha, no... uh... fighters need this... pressure on the pipe, just getting rid of it. What are we comrades for?"
"Yes, comrades! Yeae!" Herta, radiant, proud, straightens up again, strokes once more fleetingly over the dent under Klin's belt. He pulls her awkwardly into his arms, patting her on the back.
"Nest to 3. Nest to 3. Nest to 3. The second control flight has ascended. Send the girl back to us and camouflage yourself."
"Post 3 to nest. I got it. I got it. The second control flight has ascended. Hey... the runner’s coming back."
"Gee, Rotter! Maintain radio discipline! By the Führer, no titles!"
"Yes, sir. Excuse me. I beg your pardon!"
"It's all right. Not getting anywhere out there. Tell her to hurry. This Renault will be here sooner than you think."
Klin crouches behind the bushes, squints at the interstate intently... watches moving reflection in the heat down there...
"Three to nest. Watch out! Reflections on the highway... far away. Trying observation. Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Now..."
"Three, pull yourself together!"
"Container train from Rinemain. Two, no, three double units... speed... they're fast! Post 3 to nest! Warning! Container train three times two units at high speed. Forty kilometers an hour. They're too fast for normal load transporters. Could be a ground patrol, the... it... the Renault is here!"
Klin in the Nest, his replacement on the slope. Picturesque field camp and gruesome, plain seriousness... the tents and panels made of camouflage material everywhere, folded or stretched out, over pits and equipment... the material that deceives the sniffers of the Union troops, distracts infrared, magnetoscopy and biometry... all ready to hand for the small units... no fireplaces... fighters and technicians from SA and SP in camouflage suits with the swastika on a red or blue field, and the strong, long-haired and bearded Woodspeople huddled together, with nothing but their combat quivers around their hips... all in all, almost a hundred men and women.
Idly, Klin stands with his food bowl watching... examines the groups of Woodsgermans...
"Rotter Klin!"
Klin stands to attention, almost spills his porridge.
"Rott-Leader!"
"Rotter Klin, you're back from the post?"
"Yes, chief. Replaced half an hour ago. Grabbing food, Rottleader."
"Good, Rotter! Keep eating. But when you're done, report to the Leader."
Klin’s hand and bowl suddenly sink.
"W...w... with The Führer?"
"Geez, Klin, you rat brain! With the Banner-Leader, of course!"
"Yes, sir, I understand. At the Banner-Leader's. Right away."
"All right, Rotter, calm down. Eat, and just make sure you get there in five minutes. It won't be that bad."
The boiling sun shines diagonally through the bare wood, which offers hardly any shade. Over there, on the left and a bit higher up the slope, is a real oasis... full, green bushes, a few trees with real foliage, moss and weeds on the ground... in between a large igloo made of double camouflage material, shelters and two bulky, heavy off-road vehicles, impressive remnants of past weapons technology.
Klin trudges over the crumbly ground mulch, then over moss and trampled weed to the igloo... reports, is called in...
"Rotter Klin, my Führer! I'm supposed to report."
"Ah yes, Rotter Klin. Good. Come closer! And now, Rotter Klin, report to me!"
"How... uh... ah... whether I'm on post..."
"Rotter! What's with the stammering? I can expect a bit more from a SA fighter!"
"Yes, Führer, just... I beg your pardon, but... I don't know... am I supposed to report my observations? There were only the overflights, the Lada and a container train, nothing else suspicious. Five private, unsuspicious jets, a group of peasants on bicycles, two small e-transporters... that was all from my side."
"How was the lookout?"
"Excellent, Banner-Leader, ideally chosen."
"And you didn't get too bored up there?"
"No, my Führer! It was a good post... important. I don't understand your question, Führer."
"All right, Rotter Klin, let's make it short because I have other things to do than to deal with some undisciplined wankers! I was forced to accept a complaint from Eckart's tribe. You know what this is about, Rotter! Damn, you're a trained man. You know these Woodspeople see things differently than we do. Next time you have pressure on your pipe, take a cook girl but keep your hands off young Woodsgermans. We depend on these people here, crazy as they are. I know... a man takes what he needs, but with these Woodspeople some caution is appropriate... "
"A... I... ohm... Bann-Lea..."
"No long speeches please, Rotter! I told that shaggy bear his girl must have volunteered. The matter is settled. And I want it to stay that way. No! Not another word! It's alright. Now get out of here and fucking watch yourself in future!"
Heat rises from the old interstate... slanting light, dappled by narrow shadows without coolness under grey-brown tree skeletons. In front of Klin's new position, sprawling crippled bushes have moved around the guardrail and onto the verge, torn a web in the pavement, even some... few... green leaves.
Nothing moves between the bushes... people everywhere, flat on the ground in grey-brown camouflage suits or naked, the Woodspeople huddle together, squatting down like a pack of boars for the biometry... Klin listens to the whispering of the terminal.
"Post A to nest. Still nothing... "
"Pack 2 to nest. We're going a few more yards down. There's a better view."
"Nest to pack 2. Roger that. Observe backstop. Two men in position."
"Pack 2 to nest. I got it. Two men stay upstairs."
"Post 4 to nest."
"Nest to post 4. Report!"
"Report