Kapitel 112: Ren
Let's rewind the clock to September 8, 1937. We find ourselves in Germany, not far from the Polish border. The scene is set at the barracks of the SS Third Division of the SS Panzer Division, where a young man has just been promoted.
"Stand upright!" barked an order, causing several soldiers lounging on their hard beds to scramble up in a panic, lining up in front of their beds. An affable chief approached the doorway of the dormitory, his smile broad as he announced, "Welcome everyone to the SS. This is your captain commander." He gestured towards a young boy passing by.
The boy, about eighteen years old, had blue eyes that lacked depth, set in slightly sunken sockets. He blinked often, his face dotted with freckles, and his blond hair was neatly tucked under a handsome, black IDF-style hat with a black brim. A gentle smile played at the corners of his mouth. Due to his short stature, his trousers bunched over his leather boots, concealing the laces. His thin frame caused his armband to skew, giving him a somewhat disheveled appearance. He raised his right hand high, saluted in the German fashion, and shouted in a slightly hoarse voice, "Long live the head of state!"
"Long live the head of state!" came the lackluster response from the three soldiers in the dorm.
"Captain Carter, although we know there's a large-scale military expansion now, you don't have to find a kid to play with us," grumbled an older soldier, about thirty, his face covered in a thick beard, resembling a partially evolved gorilla.
"This is your loader, a second-class soldier named Bruce. You can call him an orangutan," Captain Carter introduced, pointing at the grumbling soldier, his smile unwavering.
Captain Carter then moved to a nervous-looking sergeant in his twenties and introduced him as, "This is Corporal Bowman, your driver! To be honest, except for you, he holds the highest rank here! But he's a bit shy, so he doesn't talk much—but his driving is a bit... well, you'll see for yourself."
He chuckled again and walked to a normal-looking corporal, indicating the soldier with round glasses, "This is First-Class Soldier Clark, your electrician and also responsible for your front machine gun."
Unlike the others, Corporal Clark immediately stood up straight, so Captain Carter added, "He's the most normal soldier in this dormitory! His technical skills are quite impressive."
Finally, he pointed to a man sitting in the corner who had neither stood up nor saluted. Sighing, he said, "And this is Andrea, your gunner." He made no mention of Andrea's rank or any further details. Corporal Andrea continued sitting in the corner, cleaning his pistol with an oil-moistened rag, occasionally sighing deeply.
"Okay, I've introduced you to all four of your crew members. Would you like to introduce yourself, or shall I?" Captain Carter concluded, walking back to the door and smiling at the young boy.
"I'll do it myself. Everyone has to say their first sentence sometime," the slender boy stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back. "It's nice to meet you all. My name is Ren! Ren Haas. I've just graduated from the German Academy of Armored Forces Command in Berlin and have been awarded the rank of sergeant. I hope we can all get along well! If you have any questions, feel free to come to me."
"Hey! Sergeant Ren! How old are you this year?" Bruce, the most outspoken, asked with a smirk.
"I'm eighteen years old, and I'll be nineteen in a few months," Sergeant Ren replied cheerfully.
"Don't you think it's a bit young to be commanding us?" Bruce raised his eyebrows, his beard bristling as he spoke.
"In fact, the captain of car 112 in the next dormitory is half a year younger than me," Ren replied, unfazed by Bruce's mocking tone. "In these grassroots units, I regret to inform you that I know only seven people in this division, and only one is over 20 years old."
"Alas... Doll soldiers coming to command us will be the death of us!" Bruce sighed dramatically.
"Bruce! Shut up!" Andrea, the gunner who had remained silent, suddenly raised his head and spoke sternly, then frowned and stared at Ren, who continued to smile. Finally, he reholstered his pistol, stood up, and walked out of the corner. The dim light revealed that Andrea had beautiful brown hair.
"You said you graduated from the German Academy of Armored Force Command?" Andrea approached Ren, his expression intense. "I heard there's a very prestigious junior class there. Which one did you attend?"
Ren smiled broadly, "Ah! The one you're referring to is the Wolf Rider class! Yes, I'm from that class," he said, proudly pointing to a commemorative medal on his chest. "I was first in the graduation exam for that class."
Andrea exhaled deeply, turned, and casually lay back on his bed. "The bed with the curtains over there is yours. The key to locker number one is under the pillow," he informed Ren, clearly establishing himself as the dormitory's authority figure. After his declaration, even Bruce's boldness was curtailed, and he refrained from further comments that might trouble Ren.
Captain Carter, seeing that the introductions had gone smoothly, turned to leave. Just then, Ren remembered something. He scratched his head sheepishly and hurried after Captain Carter, "Captain! I haven't received my toiletries yet, and... my sergeant officer dress was left behind at the academy. Could you please call the school for me?"
He chased after Captain Carter, and as they reached the corridor, Ren called back, "I'll be right back! Let's go to the cafeteria together!" Then, continuing his pursuit, he peppered the captain with questions about vacations, salary, and leave policies until his voice faded into the distance.
"Hehe! Still a kid," remarked Corporal Clark, adjusting his slipping glasses with a smile as he made his bed.
The driver, Bowman, shrugged, tossed his uniform onto his bed, grabbed a towel, and walked out with a washbasin in hand.
"Are we really waiting for him to come back to go to the cafeteria?" Bruce turned to Andrea, who had already stood up and was heading for the door.
"I said, I'm going to eat!" Andrea called back without turning around.
Ren, who returned late, missed dinner and found only two cold potatoes waiting for him in the cafeteria. Nonetheless, he hummed a tune, took small steps back to his dormitory, and carefully hung his towel, embroidered with his name, on an empty nail on the wall. Next, he placed his aluminum toothbrush cup and a poor-quality toothbrush directly beneath the towel. He then positioned a thick Russian dictionary next to his pillow and casually tossed a "Russian Grammar Analysis" book onto his bed.
After unloading his slanted armband and hanging it on the bedpost, Ren sat on the edge of his bed, exchanged his boots for slippers, and, while the others marveled at the professional-looking Russian dictionary, he covered his face with the grammar book, not bothering to draw the curtains around his bed, and drifted off to sleep with light snoring.
The others, initially skeptical, returned to their routines, the dormitory resuming its usual four-person dynamic. About half an hour later, as darkness enveloped the sky and the barracks—lacking electric lights due to ongoing expansions and inconsistent kerosene lamp fuel distribution—everyone retired early to bed.
"Hey, Andre!" Bruce, ever the talker, lobbed a question at the opposite bed's occupant, "What did you say earlier about the Junior School of the German Armored Forces Academy? That our little sergeant comes from there, is it really that impressive?"
Andre flicked cigarette ash onto the floor, his focus on a necklace pendant in his hand. "The head of the academy, General Goodrian, personally oversees the training there. I've heard that the Wolf Rider class is the most rigorous; it's comprised of select orphans from German orphanages, trained under General Reinhardt. What do you think?"
"Did we just luck out then?" Clark chimed in, amusement in his voice. "He's the top graduate from there!"
Bauman, who had been listening silently, turned over in his bed, the springs creaking under his weight.
"A recruit is still a recruit, no matter what! I'm not ready to entrust my life to an eighteen-year-old," Andre muttered, staring out the window at the bright moonlight, the pendant still in his grasp.
Unbeknownst to them, Ren continued to sleep peacefully, a faint smile on his youthful face, oblivious to the discussions about him amongst his new comrades.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein