HELP for Friedrich's novel...

Very very interesting, Frieddy, these look like thumbnail sketches by the PK people. Now can we start nit-picking on the decorations you gave all these people and the uniform details?

I still think von Jolly looks like Italo Balbo with spectacles But you sure did a very good job in giving literary life to your characters.

My compliments to the Chef!

 

Not too bad Friedrich ...if you're ever in need of some more drawings, give me a shout....I'll send you an e-mail of some of my sketches (or I'll post them here, we'll see)...
Either way...keep the story coming! I love it!

DUCE

 

Thanks a lot for the comments, Ducetta and Miguel! I appreciate them a lot.

Miguel, you can nick-pick my drawings as much as you want! Shoot! I tend to be very precise on awards and uniforms!

And I don't care if Von Jolly looks like marshal Italo Balbo. My character must be very, very charming and very handsome and attractive.

I'd love to see your drawings, Ducetta! I bet they're much better than my Archie comics-like sketches!

 

I can see alot of work put into this. the photos do help in envisioning the story line. Great work Friedrich.

 

-sorry Im so late to this thread, student life is rather busy -

I like the pictures Friedrich. And as soon as I get back from class tomorrow I'll take a look at the story itself. From what the other posters say, Im looking forward to it!

Oh, and if you should need any pictures, images, etc. edited with Photoshop, don't hesitate to ask. I'd be happy to help.

 

Freddie,
Apologies for not replying sooner to the second draft you sent me, but I'm supposed to be studying for exams.
I like it! It reads ok(apart from a few minor typos), and gives a good sense of von Jolly's trauma.
Any more planned?

Regards,

Gordon

 

Gottfried what is the latest on this work ?

viele Grüße

Erich ♪

 

After a long while, here I have more news and matériel for everyone.

The very first lines of the novel, which at this very moment, is progressing slowly, but every single detail of the already written 120 pages is being carefully studied and checked.

Here's the sample. Forgetting the typos and the losuy translation, I hope you get it. The story starts here.
____________________________________________

Chapter I
"A black car"

In the middle of the afternoon, a civil car, a black BMW model 1939, was crossing at moderate speed the motorways of the Autobahn that sliced the landscape of northern Germany; grass fields ended in rocky and cold cliffs of the North Sea. That was not a very busy road, however, several metres away from each other, there could be observed entire families on improvised carts, some times horse-drawn, some times pulled by the families themselves; furniture, trunks, little children, women and old men travelled on the carts or by foot, fleeing from the disgrace and misery of war. The dusty car beeped its klaxon to clear the people from the road. It was driven by an elderly man, a common corporal in the grey tunic of the German Army. In the backseat was sitting a lonely man of ill appearance. He looked at his old hands with spots and bluish veins. In one of his fingers he wore a big, heavy golden ring with a big square ruby surrounded by diamonds with an inscription in Gothic characters: "Vivire militare est", the ancient motto of the Von Jollys. Both hands held a pair of black leather gloves and a fancy, heavy baton, 50-centimetres-long, full of precious stones, Maltese crosses and nazi eagles; all resting on his legs, covered by a leather overcoat. Beside him there laid a very elegant officer’s visor-cap, with golden ribbons that marked the general-officer rank, with the insignia of the old German Army surrounded by golden oakleaves; crowning everything was an eagle, in gold, symbol of an agonising régime. Then, a perfectly-buttoned, light green-grey tunic could be seen, with many medals and ribbons above the left-side pocket, memories of great and forgotten adventures. Inside the tunic was a 59-year-old man who looked like 75, with his guts destroyed by bitterness and life’s sorrow. His name was Jean Marie Gottfried Friedrich von Jolly d’Épéhéry, XVII Count of Jolly and that very day, April 23rd 1945 he had been given new insignia and rank, which no body —starting by himself— would have ever believed he’d get: two crossed batons on his golden shoulderboards! But what was it worth now? He was a lonely man with absolutely nothing left. Nothing. His paleness, sunken eyes and obesity were clear signs of premature ageing and deteriorated health. The great beauty that characterised him some day had passed. He was not even his own shadow. His round head, now inflated by the years didn’t help his looks. His ‘hellish’ beard was now grey, as his moustache and little hair left. The boldness in front and behind his head, that had worried him so much in past days, didn’t mattered now, as life itself. His jaws were pressing each other, his gathered thick eyebrows and the bitter glow of his indigo-eyes showed very well that he was in a very bad mood, very angry. On the right side of his forehead there was a very recent scar and stenches, just done by a hesitating hand and will. Then, field marshal Friedrich von Jolly closed his eyes. Because "when the eyes close, the real world starts".[1]

[1] Gore Vidal, "The City and the Pilar".

 

Another just-translated sample, from chapter VI "Meetings".
____________________________________________

[Early February 1934].

Two days passed and now the Von Jollys were heading towards Cologne’s train station. The Kastres [the family of Von Jolly’s daughter’s fiancé] had invited them to a series of parties for the bride and groom in Bavaria. The first, to formally introduce the couple among friends in the family state in Garmisch, near the Austrian border. The farewell was going to be done at their residence in Bad Tölz.
The family and the numerous baggages were driven in two cars, driven by Matthias and Günther, respectively [an old and a young chauffeurs]. The rest of the servants working for them, put into the cars the trunks with hats, dresses and shoes whilst they put bags into the cars’ boots. The daughters of Matthias would make the journey with them too, to help Friedrich with the kids and to help Anna and Konstanze to get dressed and other stuff. Hans [the butler] would have to take care of everything in their absence. The trip couldn’t take much time, since the Wollstonecrafts and other guests for the wedding would be coming to stay in just a few days.
"Ferdi help Matthias with the bags—Von Jolly asked his eldest son and then to Gottfried, the second eldest—You too."
"Yes, daddy—both obeyed. The baggage was a lot and heavy and Matthias was an old man and with deteriorated health, so Friedrich helped Günther to take out a heavy trunk and after they dragged it a few metres to the stairs at the station’s entrance. Friedrich started coffing violently and got sick. He put one of the silken handkerchiefs he always carried on his mouth and sat on the stairs.
"Are you alright, Friedrich?"—asked Günther, taking him worried by the shoulder. The coffing ceased slowly and he rapidly kept the handkerchief in his pocket so no one could see, but Günther could notice a little drop of blood coming out from his nose, which suddenly disappeared in the middle of the thick blue-black moustache.
"Go and call someone to help you with these things"—he ordered Günther. He climbed up the stairs whilst Friedrich took the hands of Karl and Ludwig [his youngest sons].
Matthias and Günther were very soon waving their hands and walking besides the wagon’s window, saying goodbye to the Von Jollys and the Rosenblum girls, who had their heads out and were waving too themselves.
Friedrich had booked a whole luxury wagon for their trip to Munich, which had several beds, a bar, a particular dinning table and even a pool table.
When they got into the train, a half-age railroad employee and nice-looking picked up their tickets and checked up the passenger’s names in a list.
"Excuse me, Herr Von Jolly…" —the employee, who had wide and rosy cheeks, addressed his distinguished passenger.
"Yeah?"
"There’s a problem, sir."
"What is it?"
"Eh… the ladies" —the man pointed at Judith and Esther Rosenblum— "…they can’t get inside."
"And why-the-hell no?"
"The company’s policy, sir. Jews can’t travel in first class and even less in private cars."
"Bloody hell! Look, these good girls work for me and they are going to stay with me."
"But, sir, I can’t…"
"You can’t?! Of course you bloody can! And it better be by the good way!" —he pulled out 100 Reichsmarks from his wallet and gave them to the man.
"Alright, sir. My apologies."
"Out of my sight."
"Yes, sir."

Ferdinand and Gottfried soon started to play, just to find out that the train’s movement made it impossible. Konstanze [the very eldest of Friedrich’s children, who was 25] was smoking and reading Kafka lying on a green velvet sofa.
"He’s told me many things about his family, but this is the first time I’ll see them—Anna [the second daughter and the bride, aged 20] told his father, sitting in front of her, who was already holding a cognac—I met his parents before Christmas, when he invited them to Cologne. But I haven’t met his brothers, uncles, cousins and his grandmother."
"He still has a grandmother?"—Friedrich rose his eyebrows.
"He does, and she’s quite active for her seventies, by what he’s told me."
Gottfried opened the door to the corridor and was going out when his father asked him:
"Where are you going?"
"Out. I want to walk, I’m bored"—he responded with a little-illuminated face.
"Alright, but don’t delay much. Dinner will be brought here at any moment"—it was already dark.
"Yes, daddy"—nodded Gottfried with his head, went out and closed the door after him. Of course, he immediately headed towards the locomotive and saw the firemen pouring coal into the main boiler. There was a lot of steam and black and then he chose to take a look on the dinning car and the tourist-class cabinets dust and go even further, to the luggage cars in the back, where there was little illumination and fewer people. Suddenly some screaming caught his attention. He got closer to a spot where he was able to hear better and then he heard clearer: first some hitting and then, pain moans and some laughing. Gottfried noticed a small hole in the car’s wood in a corner and he kneeled in front of it and stared through it. He was astonished by what he saw: four men in black uniforms like Omar von Reit’s [one of the main characters, an SS member of the LSSAH] who were surrounding a man covered in blood, dressing in black who was obviously a priest. He was kneeling down and when he tried to stand up he got hits on his back and back of the neck with sticks or kicks in the abdomen. The boy started shaking but he was unable to stop watching the terrible scene. Some minutes later, the priest no longer tried to get up but the other men kept beating him brutally, more and more until no moans were heard. He was not breathing. Then the SS man who seemed to have the highest rank shouted something Gottfried couldn’t understand and he extended his arm, fingerpointing at the car’s door in what seemed an imperative sentence. One of the men opened the side door of the cattle car and the other two took undressed the body and threw him out. The officer then headed towards the door, near where Gottfried was, so he ran away as fast as he could to get out of there and avoid being seen.
When he finally returned to the family’s reserved wagon, he was pale and sweating coldly. He didn’t eat the dinner nor did he speak much.
"What’s wrong with you, little monster?" —inquired his sister.
"Nothing" —he answered, dryly. And he remained that way for the rest of the trip. At night, when everyone else were sleeping, Gottfried felt the train had stopped, so he got up from the bed carefully to prevent awakening his brother Ferdinand, who slept peacefully by him, embracing a pillow. He looked through the window and saw a sign in the little train station, which said: "DACHAU", a town north of Munich. He went all the way to the car’s door to have a better sight. At the end of the train, several men in SS outfit, perhaps the ones he had seen some hours ago, were dragging some ill-looking men and women from the last cars, pushing and beating them with their rifles. Several of these persons walked fearfully and with their heads down and wore ragged blue-stripped gowns. Gottfried, afraid of being seen, came back to his warm be and hugged his brother.

 

Ahhh, progress And it surely won't be a light read!

Now, will von Jolly's baton open after you decipher a code, revealing a scroll containing the secret of the Merovingians? Don't miss the next episode

 

Freddie,
Looking good so far....

 

Oh my god! I'm real late to this thread and the last post was nearly a year ago!!!
Keep up the good work Friedrich H.
Oh yes, I'm taking writing courses soon.

 

hi...just read the topic...
i think any ex french foreign legion bloke would have been excepted into the ss regardless,,especially after saving the fuhrers life etc...
hitler did issue an order tho (inreality) during the north african campaign that all legion men captured were to be shot...and there were quite a few fighting there. rommel did not go with this.
how would that have went down with ur man?
what position would he have been in at this stage?
the attraction of the legion was great after the war for many ss men.
was there the same attraction to the ss pre war for men from the legion?
just my two cent mind wandering shite...karlo

?
the attraction of the legion was great