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Bernhard Franke

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Basic Information




Date of Birth: 10.15.2274


Gender: M.

Height: FIVE FOOT, TEN INCHES (5'10")



Physical Description:



Hair colour: B.

Eye colour: B.



Military Information




Date of Enlistment: August 12, 2297

Years of Service: ONE (1)


Service Record: August 12, 2297 - Enlistment contract finalized, sent off to boot camp.

                                    September 5, 2298 - Received station orders for 112th, shipped off following day.
                                      September 10, 2298 - First deployment, promoted to Private.
                                         September 17, 2298 - Promoted to Private First Class.
                                             September 20, 2298 - Promoted to Lance Corporal.



Personal Information

Family: FRANKE, R. - Alive

             FRANKE, S. - Deceased

             FRANKE, A. - KIA: December 22, 2296

             FRANKE, L. - KIA: June 17, 2294


Backstory: Educational History: June 5, 2291 - New Madrid Academy of Future Youth, High School diploma.


Criminal Record: May 10, 2289 - 1x Underage Drinking, 1x Dangerous Conduct. Both offenses waivered by a juvenile rehabilitation program. 
Employment History: October 20, 2291; June 20, 2294 - Metal Fabrication Weld Cleaner, and General Laborer.

Additional Information: An excerpt from the mind of Franke: April 15, 2291





“Well, it’s for science, or something”


“And that makes it okay to be gross?”






“Will you two please shut up already?”


Finally. My eyes wander among my peers to pick out the brave soul. Had it been Jefferson? Michael?


Oh -- It was the professor? Huh. Wonder what he’s thinking right now? Could he tell I wasn’t paying attention, too?


I shake the distractions from my head, and peer back down at the work ahead. A lifeless, albeit still sickening, alien scalp laid before me. Or at least as “before me” as possible, without breaking my own 'safety' regulations...


Wait a second, did it just move? Maybe I ought to poke it again, with the knife. Er, scalpel. Yeah, scalpel -- sure wish it was sharper, though, so I could get this whole thing over with faster...


"So it is gross, though?"


...Can they really not wait until we finish to start bickering again?


They know I hate it when they bicker on Mondays…


They're making my head hurt.


Or maybe that's just the hangover.


I think I’ll skip tomorrow?


I'm going to skip tomorrow.




The following transcripts are recorded from Bernhard Franke's PDA.


Should Bernhard be killed in action, they are to be released publicly post mortem


As part of his will and testament.

Log File 1: September 21, 2298 -- Titled: MILLER, RUSE, SANDERSON, HARRIS, SHEPARD.



September 21, 2298: I remembered during boot camp, somebody suggested keeping a "people journal" for when you die. It sounded stupid at first, and I wouldn't be doing this if it weren't for auto correct... But I can give it a shot, I guess. Starting with whoever I'm thinking about in the time it takes me to finish this beer.


E. Miller: I just got done with one of his classes, so, yeah, suppose he should be first. He reminds me a lot of Larry, honestly, that big brother turned father figure. Not that you're a father figure to me bro, but

fuck, this is harder than I thought. I'll come back to this one later when I feel smarter. Hopefully my ass doesn't become bug chow before then. Sorry dude if it does and this all what you get to read.

Also hoping if I do get dirted on a drop you're not SL when it happens, that'd fucking suck.


Ruse. Cock tease. She's only getting more attention than you in this log Ernest because she's doing that ass thing again. You know, where she sticks it out when playing the piano. You remember that, right? When Sandy blew us in a couple days ago? I mean, it'll have been a lot of a couple days ago when you read this but whatever.

I won't say much more about her until there's more to talk about than her ass. I don't wanna fuck up my chances at earning some medals after I die because I went on about blue balls.


speaking of blue balls.


J. Sanderson. Get laid bro but like by the "one", you know what I'm talking about. I won't be there to wing man for you anymore once you get this, just use all the tips I showed you. You can do it dude.

Unless you die before me or something, then this won't make any sense. But you also won't be able to read it so it ain't going to matter. If we're still alive in a few weeks I'll give you some better shit to cry to too, but this beer is almost gone so gotta move on.


speaking of beer.


Harris and Shepard both aren't bar tending today. And this was my third. Or is. Almost was. Anyways, I don't know much about you two, sometimes even confuse you guys for each other but that's because all I know about you two is that you take over bar tending a lot.

Isn't it funny I wanna ask each of you to grab a beer together sometime? Like because you guys bar tend, so we're almost always drinking together, but we just don't talk about much.


Writing because you're thinking about dying is really hard. I think the things I'd really feel like saying to everyone won't come out until I actually am dying, or something. 

Ernest did say I'm an applied learner after all.


Finished the beer. Probably my last for a while considering RnR is in five. Don't think I'll be drinking much afterwards.


Which means my last log for a while too. I feel I'll start covering the NCOs next time.



















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