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Snippet #2767304

located in Fuhrerreich: '43, a part of The War that Never Was, one of the many universes on RPG.

Fuhrerreich: '43



Characters Present

Character Portrait: Maria Deleanu Character Portrait: Marcus Daluth
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"Do you really think Hitler's dead?" It was the question they'd all been thinking since news had broken over the British radio that the Fuhrer of Germany had been assassinated, but no one had been willing to put a voice to those thoughts just yet. Footsteps crunching through snow filled the silence as they all pondered that, no one wanting to jinx the best thing they'd been told since the war started. That would, after all, mean a large part of the fighting was over. The Russians would come wipe out the remainder of the Germans, and with the Americans and British entering from the west...well, at least there was one less enemy to worry about.

Maria reached up to push the too big helmet she wore off her forehead, her fingertips catching on the roughness where once the Wehrmacht Iron Eagle had once been. "Dunno. I mean, it would explain why they're killing each other now." In the past week they'd witnessed extensive German infighting and come across the remnants of even more, stepping over bodies of SS and German military alike as they made their way west. It felt wrong to be marching directly into enemy territory, but all they had was the hope that they'd reach the Americans before the Russians closed in, or a lingering squad of Germans found them first.

The plan was, in actuality, not much of a plan at all. They had just about made it to the western Polish border, and from there would set up a temporary camp in the forest and wait out the eventual meeting between the Russians and Americans. The Soviets were like to want them dead just as much as the Germans had, but apparently the British and their friends had more faith than their ragtag group. Either that, or they were just stupid. She tried to be optimistic about it.

When they neared the edge of the woods she stopped walking, indicating the small clearing they stood in. "We'll stay here for the night. The Americans should be here soon, and then we'll see what happens next. Maybe the Russians won't try to kill us." Her final statement was met with quiet, bitter laughter as they went about setting up camp, two heading off somewhere to find food as another started a fire.

Sitting cross-legged near the growing flames, she took off her helmet and laid her rifle on the ground beside her. If all the reports they'd heard were to be believed, then the war was already on its way to being over. It felt surreal, but she was cautiously positive about these new circumstances. Maybe they would all finally be able to go back home, and return to whatever lives they had left over.

If the Americans showed up.