Post by Wing on Feb 19, 2007 18:43:28 GMT -5
From my new favourite book, The Longest Day by Cornelius Ryan...*chuckles evilly*
1. At Army Group B headquarters in La Roche-Guyon the work went on as though Rommel were still there, but the chief of staff, Major General Speidel, thought it was quiet enough to plan a little dinner party. He had invited several quests: Dr. Horst, his brother-in-law; Ernst Junger, the philosopher and author; and an old friend, Major Wilhelm von Schramm, one of the official ‘war reporters’. The intellectual Speidel was looking forward to dinner. He hoped they’d discuss his favourite subject, French literature.
There was something else to be discussed: a twenty-page manuscript that Junger had draftd and secretly passed on to Rommel and Speidel. Both of them fervently believed in the document; it outlined a plan for brining about peace—after Hitler had either been tried by a German court or been assassinated. “We can really have a night discussing things,” Speidel had told Schramm.
^ Hans is so cultured and evil-genius-y.
2. Rommel’s Horch purred quietly through La Roche-Guyon, moving slowly by the little houses that shouldered each other on either side of the road. The big black car turned off the highway, passed the sixteen square-cut linden trees and entered the gates of the castle of the Dukes de la Rochefoucauld. As they came to a halt before the door, Lang jumped out and ran ahead to inform Major General Speidel of the field marshal’s return. In the main corridor he heard the strains of a Wagerian opera coming from the chief of staff’s office. The music welled up as the door suddenly opened and Speidel came out.
Lang was very angry and shocked. Forgetting for a moment that he was talking to a general, he snapped, “How could you possibly play opera at a time like this?”
Speidel smiled and said, “My dear Lang, you don’t think that my playing a little music is going to stop the invasion, now do you?”
Down the corridor strode Rommel in his long blue-gray field coat, his silver-topped marshal’s baton in his right hand. He walked into Speidel’s office and, hands clasped behind his back, stood looking at the map. Speidel closed the door, and Lang, knowing that this conference would last some time, made his way to the dining room. Wearily he sat down at one of the long tables and ordered a cup of coffee from the orderly. Nearby another officer was reading a paper. He looked up. “How was the trip?” he asked pleasantly. Lang just stared at him.
^ *dies laughing*
1. At Army Group B headquarters in La Roche-Guyon the work went on as though Rommel were still there, but the chief of staff, Major General Speidel, thought it was quiet enough to plan a little dinner party. He had invited several quests: Dr. Horst, his brother-in-law; Ernst Junger, the philosopher and author; and an old friend, Major Wilhelm von Schramm, one of the official ‘war reporters’. The intellectual Speidel was looking forward to dinner. He hoped they’d discuss his favourite subject, French literature.
There was something else to be discussed: a twenty-page manuscript that Junger had draftd and secretly passed on to Rommel and Speidel. Both of them fervently believed in the document; it outlined a plan for brining about peace—after Hitler had either been tried by a German court or been assassinated. “We can really have a night discussing things,” Speidel had told Schramm.
^ Hans is so cultured and evil-genius-y.
2. Rommel’s Horch purred quietly through La Roche-Guyon, moving slowly by the little houses that shouldered each other on either side of the road. The big black car turned off the highway, passed the sixteen square-cut linden trees and entered the gates of the castle of the Dukes de la Rochefoucauld. As they came to a halt before the door, Lang jumped out and ran ahead to inform Major General Speidel of the field marshal’s return. In the main corridor he heard the strains of a Wagerian opera coming from the chief of staff’s office. The music welled up as the door suddenly opened and Speidel came out.
Lang was very angry and shocked. Forgetting for a moment that he was talking to a general, he snapped, “How could you possibly play opera at a time like this?”
Speidel smiled and said, “My dear Lang, you don’t think that my playing a little music is going to stop the invasion, now do you?”
Down the corridor strode Rommel in his long blue-gray field coat, his silver-topped marshal’s baton in his right hand. He walked into Speidel’s office and, hands clasped behind his back, stood looking at the map. Speidel closed the door, and Lang, knowing that this conference would last some time, made his way to the dining room. Wearily he sat down at one of the long tables and ordered a cup of coffee from the orderly. Nearby another officer was reading a paper. He looked up. “How was the trip?” he asked pleasantly. Lang just stared at him.
^ *dies laughing*
