Folks,

MG:

That sounds powerful indeed. Enjoy it to its fullest. If that book is anything like Alls Quiet on the Western Front it should be a real treat. I remember first reading AQOTWF when I was in hospital as a young teenager. It will be a treat to immerse yourself in a good book about WW1 and then crawl into the cockpit of a biplane and relive the adventure from the air.

We have repeatedly asked Dux to add to what has become known as "The Olga Sagas". Now and then as he has just now he gives us a taste of his fertile imagination. It is never enough.

I am unable to rise to his impossibly high standards of course, however the following might help entice him into sharing more of his anti-heroine's exciting adventures.

A Sweet Surprise

UberUberStrumbanfuhrer Otto Strudelgrabber shifted his corpulent body in his comfortable VonBismark brand leather chair and scrutinized the enlarged photo on the desk before him. The photo was the only existing record of the Soviet’s most effective secret operative, master of disguise, ace pilot and elite marks-woman known only as Olga from Minsk.

It was a poor photo at best taken under extreme conditions for only seconds after shooting the photograph, the photographer himself was shot right through the head.

Yes, Otto smoothed what was left of his greasy, black hair with one hand and held the photo up with the other as he imagined he could actually see the bullet leaving the barrel of the Soviet assassin’s Mosin-Nagant Model 1891/30 sniper’s rifle; it was indeed taken under most extreme and dangerous conditions. He wondered what mischief she might be up to now. What ever it might be it had recently become his job to stop her.

At that moment the door to his office opened and in stepped his busty new aide Hilda Von Bustenhalter. She placed a large plate of pastries before him and began to expertly massage the stiff muscles of his neck.

As Otto tasted the sweetness of the first pastry he felt himself begin to relax. “Take that you obese swinehund”, were the last words he ever heard as his trusted aide slit his throat with a rusty letter opener that had been a gift from Himmler and put a bullet through his brain with his own Walther service pistol.

Before Otto’s eyes had time to set, both the incriminating photo and Olga were gone.