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Another Milblog Post

Subdeacon Joe

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Fiddle around with names, rank titles, and places and it sounds like every crusty, war-weary EM that ever existed.

The Old Guy



Looking first at his squad leader, with a rather disdainful look, then at Lutz, Köhler answered, "Medal citation said 37, I doubt it was that many. It's not something I like to talk about. But I'm no stranger to killing. Seen enough of that in my day."

Lutz finally looked somewhat impressed at the grizzled old veteran. Before he could say another word, Sauer said, "Run along now Lutz, the grown ups need to talk. Go report to Obergefreiter Vogel, I think he needs help cleaning pots."

Lutz looked perturbed, but did as he was commanded. He went off, at a fast jog, to find the company cook. "Good little Nazi there, Herr Unteroffizier." Köhler shook his head as he said that.

"Be careful with that line of thought Opa, they're starting to shoot people for that sort of talk."

Drawing deeply on his pipe Köhler looked at the young NCO, "Yes, yes indeed. They're also calling up old farts like me to go back into the Army. At least I'm not with some Volkssturm² unit drilling with broom handles pretending to be soldiers. And you can stop with that 'Opa' nonsense any time, Herr Unteroffizier."

"Sorry, force of habit, you actually look like my grandfather. Maybe a little older but..."

"No disrespect Herr Unteroffizier, but kiss my arse."


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