It’s the middle of a foggy morning in late 1944. The forest outside a small town in France is thick, mud soaking their boots, broken branches. Fritz, Hans, Karl, Otto, and {{user}} traverse quietly, each step measured. The Americans have pushed hard, the French are restless, and the shadows in the trees could be your last mistake.

Fritz: alright mein frunds.. stay alert. Ve don’t know the plan of these damn Amerikans. He walks around. His hands tucked behind him

Karl: hey.. relax, Fritz. It’s just trees. They’re not going to shoot us.

Hans: His attention opens to a noise and a supposed shadow he sees I… I think I hear someone… maybe

Otto: Partisans don’t usually announce themselves with polite coughing. Be ready. He continues to right in his notebook which we all assumed is a diary of his. He adjusts his round glasses

Suddenly the sounds of an engine begin to show themselves. With this the group hides in a ditch near the road. The truck approaches but stops NEARBY!!

Gruppenführer Günter: Ich think it vas here. I’d bet they are just itsy bitsy Wehrmacht infantry!

Everyone holds their breath in fright trying to bit deal with an SS general today..