My name is Hans Grüber, rank Gefreiter, infanterie. This is a brief, yet grevious record of the horrors I have seen. Every action which is documented within this report was done so never two hours later from the actual occurrence.
I wake up in a jungled area. There is lots of deep green shrubbery, and hundreds if not thousands of trees all around. Troublingly, I have no recollection of what has happened. All was normal the day before. No sign of the Hauptmann anywhere, good riddance that ape. I take stock: on the ground by my feat lays a Gewehr 98, newly discharged. Two letter are etched into it, an H and a G. My weapon? What on Earth happened last night?
Poßeßing nor gleaning any more insight from the gun, I sling it over my shoulder. I look at my immediate vicinity. I find some food, but I feel unhungered, and decide to leave it. So I have found but one item of use, but not one thing indicating any other human life. Realising the straits that I am in, I take out my compaß and begin journeying North. If this is Africa, as I suspect it is, then North is the way back to Europe, to the calm and safety of the Fatherland.
It was during this partially aimleß journey that I began to experience a kind of worry. With no more to palpably examine, I begin reflecting on what horrible affair could have taken place to strand me here alone. I also attempted to measure how precarious my predicament was.
There is a rockier divet coming upon the route. For this duration I've namely been following a natural path through the forestry. Wait, I see, some one. I have identified a face, but I cannot see his face. In case you've been living under a kaiser-roll, there's a war going on. Scratch all of this, I can see his tunic now; ah, damn, French, not a kamerad. Something seems off. He is walking normally,but also jaggedly, like he doesn't cenna how to purposefully march in a straight line (typical French soldaten!) French drill and discipline leave much to be desired. Well, best not alert him.
I have just travelled some more. I had to stop here at this pond as I notice that the sun is going down. I am pitching a tent and boiling some water once I get the fire going... Just awoke, still night, wasn't planning on writing anything else until dawn. I was startled awake by the most terrible shrieking noises. I don't even cenna what could have poßibly made suck a horrendous, cataclysmic noise. The screeching sounded as if it was coming from everywhere, yet all still basically far away from my position. I snuff the fire for fear of attracting attention, and opt to wait the night out.
Judging roughly by how long I waited it must have been very early morning when I was Disturbed. I am going forward... putting away my notes...
Hurra! I have just stumbled upon a German encampment. I feel at least a degree safer in this familiar set-up, even though it appears to be abandoned. With further inspection, there are foot prints leaving camp going every which way. I enter the main tent, where I instantly see the blood-stained note on the table. In the letter, likely a final-moments testament, there is mention of a powerful, evil weapon being tested by the Entente, here in this forest. The letter says that a battle is going on, French soldiers are attacking, that the Frenchmen are not really men. 'Satan, dæmonic', the letter ends with 'God in heaven, come down and help us!'. No other reference was made to this mysterious Entente super-weapon besides the one, so I pocket it and keep moving.
I have made great progreß. The smell of the air has changed, crisper, cooler, I must be near the shore. However, it is dark, and I am seeing many what look to be glowing yellow tiger eyes, all thwarting any chance of the direct path. I need shelter for my last terrifying night in Africa.
There is a little house nearby. I enter it, only to discover cabinets filled with papers and folders with the English 'claßified' stamped in red on them. Clearly I have stumbled into the premises of a British or American military structure of a different sort. As I begin to sift through the documents on the table, I am wholly disrupted by the woeful screeching of the night before. Except this time, the shrieks are closer, and feel more aggravated. Fearing for my life, I barricade the single door (there are no windows), light the candle on the desk, and go back to my studying of the Entente papers. At once I read discußion of an 'Italian Hellray'. It talks about backfires, and His Majesty Kaiser Wilhelm's mind being too strong and cultured for the 'Hellray' to work, that intelligence should switch to targeting German social-democrats. There is a line about 'Fail-Safe H', but the rest of the sentence has been meaningfully cut. I cenna what I must do to fulfil my duty to Kaiser and Fatherland. I take some emplosives from the demolitions rack, and I place them around the complex.
This is going to be the last of me. I am placing my diary into a box, and am leaving it outside. If you are reading this, then someone has found my diary and brought it to civilisation. I cennaught where the Italian Hellray is. It is best thus to aßume that Deutschland is in grave danger. I am of the firm belief that only His Majesty the Kaiser is capable of defending us. Heil Kaiser dir! May God preserve his health. I sacrifice myself in his name, and in the name of all folcs holy and good, for the eventual peace of this world.
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