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[Their brutality] at times greater than that of the Germans, the Ukrainians, and the Latvians.
— Emanunel Ringelblum

The Jewish Ghetto Police or Jewish Police Service (German: Jüdische Ghetto-Polizei or Jüdischer Ordnungsdienst), also called the Jewish Police or Flops by the Jews, were auxiliary police units organized within the Jewish ghettos of German-occupied Poland by local Judenrat (Jewish council) collaborating with Nazi Germany.

After Adolf Hitler initiated his ruthless "final solution", the Jews under his control were temporarily moved to ghettos, where terrible conditions and poor provisions were provided. The Nazis built walls around these ghettos. One of the most famous of these, the Warsaw Ghetto, even employed some Jewish people to guard their own kind, with false promises of freedom or better treatment.

These Jewish Ghetto police patrolled the streets with a brutal efficiency in the hopes of escaping this hell. Very little is known about these turncoat Jews, as during the fall of Germany the Nazis likely destroyed any documents pertaining to the training and deployment of such police.

Battle vs. Vorkuta Prisoner (Call of Duty) (by Jackythejack)[]

The group of prisoners didn’t know how they had gotten where they were. All that they remembered was that they were escaping from Vorkuta, and soon after they had left the gates of the gulag, there was a giant snowstorm that headed their way, enveloping them in snow. They thought they were going to die there, but in an instant, the snow had disappeared, and now they were suddenly in a city, though they weren’t sure which one.

“What’s the deal with all of these Swastikas?” One of them had asked, but he wasn’t given much of a response besides a grunt of indifference from the one prisoner they were following. “I mean, the last time I checked, the Nazis were gone. I don’t see how-”

“Will you just shut up about it?” One of them in the very back had snapped, his voice filled with hostility. “It doesn’t matter where we are or who’s around here, so stop asking questions.”

“Oh, really? Because I think it’s important to find out where we are if we’re in a city with prison suits on.”

“Look, I don’t care where we are, as long as we’re away from the hell that is Vorkuta. I don’t want to see that place ever again.”

“Alright but I’d still like to know where-”

“Both of you shut up,” The leader called out, pulling out his makeshift knife from his pocket. It was little more than a sharpened piece of metal, but it proved to be surprisingly effective. “I hear someone coming.”

The prisoners, who were in the middle of the streets, all stopped where they stood. They would see a group of people round the street corner. They seemed to be officers, based off of their uniforms, but they also sported nazi symbols on their uniforms, which was more than enough to make the Russians hostile.

When the officers saw the men in prisoner uniforms in the middle of the street, they pulled out their own weapons. Batons and knives were pulled out as the police walked towards the criminals, who also pulled out all of their weapons.

“Who are you people?” The seemingly leader of the police force asked. Though, he had spoke in German, which only one of the Russians could actually understand.

“Escapees,” the Russian responded, also in German, “and if you don’t want any problems, nazi, I suggest you leave us alone.”

“I don’t think we can do that.”

“Then it seems like you’re going to have a problem.” Without hesitation, the Russian would take his knife and stab it towards the officer. It landed in his shoulder and sunk deep into the man. The officer let out a scream of pain and punched the leader in the face, causing him to stumble backwards.

The prisoners let out what could only be described as a war cry as they charged towards the other officers, armed with knives and batons. One officer had managed to get himself into a fight with one of the men with a knife. The prisoner would slash towards the officer, only managing to cut his uniform before the officer retaliated with his own knife slash, leaving a large gash on the prisoner’s shoulder.

The Russian screamed out in pain and put his hand to his shoulder, which left him open for an attack. The officer stabbed the prisoner in the gut and the man’s entire body would tense up, providing resistance as the Jewish man pulled the knife out of his chest to stab him several more times in various places around his body. Once he was finished, he pulled his knife out and pushed the man to the ground. He didn’t move, and he’d bleed out soon afterwards.

Prisoners: 4

Officers: 5

Another officer was fighting a prisoner armed with a baton, and it was clear to see which one was at a disadvantage. Everytime the officer swung, the heavier club would only zoom past the prisoner, and it was easy to avoid. The officer would take time bringing the club back for another swing, which left him open to an attack.

The prisoner would lung forward and slam his baton into the arm of the officer, the one that wasn’t holding the club. The officer cried out in pain as he swung at the prisoners leg. He was able to hit it, leaving a nasty open wound which made blood fall onto the streets of the ghetto. The prisoner winced and almost faltered in his stance, but he stood strong and smacked the officer over the head with his weapon.

Reeling back in pain, the officer would put his hands to his head, his vision becoming blurry as he moved back. The prisoner took this as an opportunity to yank the club from the officers hands and bash him over the head with it, and immediately afterwards the officer fell to the floor like a rag doll.

Prisoners: 4

Officers: 4

As the one prisoner walked away from his victim, two officers and prisoners were getting caught up in a fight, armed with both batons and knives. They duo would trade blows, baton intercepting knife and the knife occasionally scraping by the skin of a human, causing them to bleed somewhat. One officer would stab at a knife wielding prisoner, but he would be intercepted by a baton hitting him in the side of the head. He stumbled back, only to feel a knife stab into the side of his torso. The guard screamed in pain and stabbed at the hand that held the knife.

The prisoner had let go of the knife and backed away, the knife sticking right out of his hand. He stared at his hand in disbelief before letting out a scream of pain and terror. It didn’t take long for the officer to pull the knife out of his side and stab it into the prisoner’s neck, causing him to fall limp to the ground, blood spilling out onto the street.

“You Nazi scum!” the remaining of the two prisoners exclaimed before forcefully grabbing the knife from the officer and ripping it out of his hand. He stabbed the officer in the side opposite of his already inflicted stab wound. Though the officer wouldn’t feel pain for much longer, as the prisoner would then stab him in the chest and push him to the ground, and that’s when the officer finally stopped moving.

Turning to face the officer closest to him, the one he was fighting with earlier, he could just barely avoid the club to the face that the officer was planning for him. He was just barely able to not be overpowered from the initial impact, blocking the club with his own baton. Putting all of his force behind it, the Russian would push against the cop and make him lose his balance, The prisoner hit him in the side of the leg and he fell to the ground

Expecting this to be one of his few chances to fight the man, the Vorkuta Prisoner would begin to assault the officer with his baton, beating the life out of him. After the tenth or so hit, the prisoner finally stood up, breathing heavily as he stared at the bloody corpse of the officer.

Prisoners: 3

Officers: 2

The remaining prisoner from the combat of four would then turn around to see that there was one lone officer, armed with two knives, it seemed. He must have picked them up from one of his falling allies. The police officer seemed hesitant, judging by his facial expression, but he still moved forward and swiped at the man with both knives. He was clumsy with his movements, but he was still able to hit the man. Both times, in fact. Leaving two gashes on his arm, the one that held the baton.

The Russian dropped his baton as he looked at his arm. Blood dripped down onto the streets of whatever city he was now sure he was going to die in. Knowing that the only way out was to fight, the man pounced towards the man. The sudden charge forward was surprising enough to stun the Jewish officer, and cause him to not move.

The assaulting Russian punched the man directly in the face, causing him to stumble back, as well as knock a tooth out. He was punched once more, and again, and again. It wasn’t until the fifth or so punch that the officer was able to react. The policeman would wisen up to this attack and move out of the way of one of the oncoming punches.

The officer then leaped forward and stabbed the knife into the prisoner’s chest, and the man cried out in pain. This left the policeman open for another attack, though, and the convict would wrap his hands around the man’s neck in an attempt to choke him out. It didn’t end up working, as the officer just punched the man in the face, which made his grip loosen just enough for the man to get away.

As a last ditch effort to end this officer before he ended him, the prisoner pulled the knife out of his chest and stabbed it into the officer’s shoulder. The officer cried out, but was able to stab the prisoner once more with his other knife, directly in the side. The prisoner winced and punched the man in the face. This time, the man fell back, and he lay there, limp. The prisoner looked at his hopefully dead victim and let out a chuckle before collapsing to the ground himself, his legs unable to support himself as too much blood came out of his wounds. It wouldn’t be long until he too lie still on the streets of this foreign land.

Prisoners: 2

Officers: 1

The last officer wouldn’t be having an easy time either. He was engaged in a full on fight between two of these Russian prisoners, and he didn’t know how to fight back against these people. He had half the mind to run away right now, but he doubted the convicts would let him to that.

From behind him, the officer would receive a baton blow to the head, though his grip on his club didn’t loosen, and he was able to swing it at the other prisoner, the one who had not hit him. He managed to hit the prisoner in the leg, but not much damage was done to him. The prisoner responded by stabbing the man with his prison shiv, hitting him in the forearm.

“Die, you scum!” The prisoner shouted as he forcefully tore the knife out of the man’s arm. “Nothing will stop us from getting to freedom!”

With that final statement, the prisoner stabbed the officer right in the temple, causing the man to immediately go limp and fall to the ground. It was only after the final opponent fell that the man’s legs would start to feel wobbly. He would have fallen over if his other convicted comrade wasn’t there to support him.

The two looked around at all the houses and saw that people were peeking out there doors and looking through open windows at the foreign men who had killed a whole group of officers. Still angry, one of them shouted at the bystanders.

“Anyone else want to die!?” The bystanders slammed there doors and windows shut in response. The prisoner shook his head and spat blood onto the stone streets of the ghetto. “Come, let’s get out of here before more arrive.”

“That has to be the best plan all day,” the prisoner muttered as the two walked down the street of the ghetto.

Expert’s Opinion[]

The Prisoners won this fight due to the experience they had under fire. While the Police were little more than bullies to the defenseless citizens, the Prisoners actually fought on a large scale against armed guards, and they were not afraid to die, either.

To see the original weapons, battles and votes, click here.

Battle vs. Testament of the New Ezekiel (by Jackythejack)[]

Weimar, Germany

Most of the time, the Flops, as they were often called in certain circles of society, didn't often go to check out mysterious rumors in the middle of random cities that the Reich didn't care much about at the moment. With the war going on, they were usually kept to their ghettos, but due to a lack of manpower, Flops stationed in the nearby concentration camp of of Buchenwald had been called in to help figure out what exactly was going on in the small town of Weimar. 

It seemed that a lot of the people there had been reporting strange noises being heard in the middle of the night, and random disappearances were on the rise. The first assumption was anti-Reich behavior, and that was why the Germans wanted to do something about it, and quick. A perfect reason to use an otherwise expendable enforcement group. 

The Flops arrived into the city sometime near sunset. The Jewish population of this city had been escorted out to the Buchenwald camp, and because of that there weren't any real cautious glances towards them, which was something that the Jewish officers were more than used to after walking the ghettos and concentration camps. 

The leader of the group, a short, stoutly man who had a mustache that'd give Nietzsche a run for his money, approached one of the passerbys and began to question him. "You there. I know you're heading home soon, but we have been sent to investigaste rumors about strange disappearances and noises in the middle of the night. Now...can you tell me where these could be coming from." 

The pedestrian frowned before pointing off into the distance. "I've heard people talk about the old abandoned house at the very end of Amselweg. The road just down there. The house has been abandoned for years, but I've heard many people say how they saw strange people going in, wearing strange clothing. That might be good for you." 

"Thank you," the man said with a nod as he adjusted his hat and began moving towards this Amselweg the pedestrian had spoken of. He gestured for his men to follow him. "Come on, now. Let's move! I don't want to stay in this town any longer than I have to." 

"What do you even think it is?" One of the Flops asked curiously as they moved down the street. The air seemed tense, even with people not being fearful of their presence. It still felt like the town was holding their breath. Did they know something the Flops didn't? "Everyone sure seemed tense." 

"I think it's a couple of no good lowlifes who think that kidnapping is a way to get back at the Reich. Now quit thinking about it. We're here to get rid of the problem, not theorize about it." 

"You have to admit, sir, things seem a little weird around here." Another one commented with a hint of anxiety in his voice. The leader of the group glared at him. "Sorry, Fishel, I just-"

"That's Hitzig for you, Ashtor!" The man barked back. "Now quit your yapping and get in the damn truck. The sun's going down, and I don't like working in the dark. We gotta find this place, and we have to find it fast." 

Little did the Flops see there was someone spying on them from one of the nearby alleyways, who would take off shortly before they had started arguing. This man began running to Amselweg, now with a message. 


On the street known as Amselweg, there way an old and decrepit house. It had been there long since the war had started, and it had always been a home with a dark past. Stories of insane homeowners and brutal murders were the home's bread and butter. It had fallen into a severe state of decay, with chipped paint and broken windows. It looked like someone hadn't been living in it for years. 

But now, with the sun just about to set, a man had ran up to the house and quickly went through the old and practically broken door, which had only been holding on by it's hinges. He rushed inside and passed by several people very similar to him; faithful followers of the prophet Knoth. 

The follower quickly ran up the stairs and into what was once the master bedroom, but was now where there temporary leader, Marta, the Eye of Knoth, had set herself. She was sitting on a chair that was made from some of the destroyed and worn down furniture in the house, combined with some other materials that they've stolen from nearby stores, but that's a different story. 

Marta was muttering to herself when the follower, who she knew was named Jeb, walked in. She was thinking about that night in the asylum, with those strange men with the swords. She had thought she died, she was, breathing and living like she always had before hand. She had long since decided that it was an act of God, but if that was the case, why would God bring her to what was clearly a different time? Nazis did not belong here, after all. That was many years ago. How much had things changed? Did Temple Gate change too...?

The follower known as Jeb walking into the room pushed her out of her thoughts. She stood up from her seat and leaned against her giant pickaxe, a weapon she had used to kill plenty of sinners. "Jeb. What brings you here in such a panic." 

"The Germans, Marta," the man said as he stopped to catch his breath. "The Germans had called in a police force to try and find us. I fear what they will do to us once they catch us." 

Marta froze for a moment as she took in what the mand had said. She glanced down at the floor before realizing that there was only one way to avoid capture by these idiotic Nazis, and that was going to be to kill them. Once again, her hand was going to be forced into violence. May god guide their hands...

"Then you must kill them before they get the chance to kill you. Destroy them or be destroyed." She spoke dramatically, pointing her pickaxe at the man and coming dangerously close to hitting him. "Do not wait for your enemy's weapons to strike before you retaliate. You have to defend yourself now." 

"W-What do you mean, Marta?" 

"I mean you gather up the few people we have, and we fight back against these officers. We have so few men and women with us that I can count them on one hand, but we must fight back." 

"Will you be fighting alongside us, Marta?" 

"Unfortunately...I cannot. I am the Eye of Knoth, Jeb. If anything were to happen to me, the Testament would be greatly damaged. You must go, and you must kill 'em. Understand?" 

"Yes, of course I do!" 

"Then go, ready the others. Prepare your weapons we have taken. It's time to declare war on this filth." 


"Damn, this place sure looks creepy," Ashtor muttered as they rolled up to the old, decrepit building and walked out of their vehicles. 

The leader, Hitzig, scoffed. "Yeah, if you're a child. Grow a pair, Ashtor, or else you're never going to be released from service." 

"If we're going to be in the first place..." A separate one muttered.

"Enough of that talk, David. Let's get moving." 

The group of five Flops made their way towards the front door of the house, going through the neglected, overgrown grass that the house called a lawn. They made it to the front door and paused. 

"So, which one of us wants to knock?" David asked with a chuckle. "You think if we do that anyone would answer?" 

"Please. If anything it gives them time to run off. Get your weapons ready, men." Two of them took out a club, while the other two, as well as Hitzig himself, took out their knives, flicking the button and the blade popping out in a short moment afterwards. "On three, we run in and sweep the ground floor. You understand?" 

The four other Flops nodded, and Hitzig took a deep breath, preparing himself to shoulder this thing down. He was so not trained for this. "One. Two. Three." 

He kicked the door down and it gave away surprisingly easily. Even got knocked off his hinges. That made Hitzig feel so much stronger as he hurried off into the house with his four men trailing behind him. In a rather short amount of time, they were able to get into most of the houses. The kitchen, the dining area, and the common room where the staircase was. 

"Alright, that wasn't very eventful." Hitzig muttered as he ended up near the staircase with the rest of him men. He glanced at the three that were now seemingly grouping together. "Ashtor, Kuni, Meir, you go up to the top floor and figure out what's up there. David and I will stay down here for a more thorough search." 

"Yes sir," the three said simultaniously as they moved up the stairs, brandishing their clubs and knives. Hitzig watched them for a moment before focusing on David, who was now hanging out near the wall. 

"Sir, I found another door here. We may want to check this out." Hitzig walked over to David and noticed that there was a doorknob sticking out of the wall. Hitzig frowned for a moment before realizing that this happened to be attatched to a door that was the same color as the decrepit walls, and because of the lack of lighting in the home, the doorknob was difficult to spot. 

"Good eye, but what's behind the door." 

"Well, I think that's what we should be worrying about," the man muttered as he reached his hand out to grab the doorknob. "I don't know where this leads to, but I have a feeling that someone is hiding behind it."

"Well, don't just stand there. Open the damn door." 

David nodded and within a moment the door was open. Inside there was....nothing. It seemed to be some kind of bathroom, and a small one at that. Most of the room was visible just from in front of the doorway. David frowned before looking back at the captain. "Well, guess I was wrong about that. Maybe I'm just-" 

Suddenly, a woman had leaped out from god knows where in that bathroom armed with a kitchen knife and raising it up ready to stab. Hitzig's eyes widened and he tried to open his mouth to say something, but no words came out as he could only watch the woman grab David by the shoulders and plunge the knife into his neck. David's eye would widen as well and everyone in the room heard a faint gargling sound as the woman pulled out the knife and let David' body fall to the floor. 

"What the fuck!?" Hitzig yelled as he readies his knife, suddenly realizing that this was far more than he had bargained for. 

Meanwhile, at the top of the staircase, the three other Flops had just heard their captain's scream of surprise. They blinked and looked at each other. "What was that?" 

Ashtor shrugged. "I don't know. Hold on I'm going to-" 

"Gentlemen." Suddenly a figure came charging at them from one of the rooms down the hall, armed with a machete. The three Flops weren't able to process what was happening in time as the man went ramming into Kuni, sending the Flop rolling down the floor only to curl up into a ball at the end of the stairs, groaning in pain. 

"The hell!?"

"Grab him!" 

One of the flops, Meir, grabbed the seemingly crazed man with the machete by his weapon holding arm. He dragged the man off the top of the stairs and forcefully rammed his head into the wall. The old and delicate wooden wall of the house broke due to the force of the attack, though that wasn't saying much. The insane peasent groaned in pain as he was pulled away from the wall just in time for Ashtor to smack him over the head with the club as hard as he could. The club was enough to make the man go unconcious and tumble down the stairs. Ashtor watched it silently until the man hit the bottom of the stairs, next to Kuni. "Is he dead?" 

"If he ain't, Kuni can take care of him," Meir muttered before ascending up the stairs. "Now let's keep going, there could be more of them." 

"Shouldn't we check on the boss?" 

"He can take care of himself. He's got a damn knife, and he's probably more skilled at fighting than any one of us. Let's get going."

Back with Hitzig, he was clearly not making the best of the situation, and was having an shamefully close struggle with the woman holding the knife. Their original knife fight, while managing to put several slashes into their bodies, didn't do much. Now they were engaging in a fight of brute force to see who could overpower the other, and currently it seemed to be a tie, and the Flop didn't quite enjoy that. 

"I'm...not dying here!" Hitzig muttered before finding a hidden reserve of strength inside of him. He was suddenly able to overpower the woman and shove her into a wall. The woman let out a cry of pain as her back was slammed into it. This gave Hitzig enough time to stab his knife into the woman's shoulder, causing out another scream of pain. Afterwards, he forcefully pulled out his knife and jammed it into her chest repeatedly. 

After he pulled his knife out of her chest for the final time, the woman slowly slid down to the ground, unable to support herself. She treid to grab at Hitzig's leg all the same, ever determined, but he moved out of the way and left the woman to think about what she had done. If she was still alive by the end of this, they'd arrest and interrogate her. 

He came to the foot of the stairs just in time to see Kuni slitting the throat of a man in clothing very similar to the woman. He raised an eyebrow. "Any idea who these freaks could be?" 

"Beats me. Seems like they're on a bunch of drugs either way..." 

They stared at the dead body until they heard a loud scream coming from up the staircase. The two of them quickly bolted up the stairs and into the nearby bedroom, just in time to see Meir get his remaining hand chopped off, while the other one was lying on the ground in a pool of blood. Ashtor was in a struggle with some other man, and couldn't help his now disarmed comrade. 

"Oh god!" Kuni exclaimed as he hurried over towards Ashtor to stab the psychotic attacker repeatedly. The man screamed in pain and was weakened enough for Ashtor to push him away. Just as Ashtor was about to bash the man's head in with his club, he was charged at by another woman. This time the two fell to the ground and the woman seemed ready to stab him with her knife. 

Kuni had to think quickly, and he noticed that Ashtor had dropped his club. An idea came to him and he quickly picked up the club and slammed it down on top of the woman's head. She crumpled on top of Ashtor immediately and the Flop was able to push the woman off of him. 

Though, they still had other problems to attend to. While they were struggling with the one woman, the man who had previously been fueding with Ashtor moved over towards Hitzig, who was now struggling with the woman who had chopped off the Mier's hands and head. 

Hitzig would try in vain to get any attacks in to attack this damn woman, but found that none of them worked, and that his knife was too short for him to do any meaningful damage. It wasn't long until the woman with the machete charged forward and slashed him right across the chest, causing blood to splatter against the walls and floor as he dropped down to his knees, which put him at the perfect height for decapitation. 

Kuni and Ashtor had been frozen in shock watching the whole thing. They were shaking, not believing that their leader had just died. They shared a glance at each other before deciding that if they were going to die, they should at least die fighting. 

So, the two swallowed their fear and charged forward. They were only armed with a club and a knife. Hardly proper weapons, and it showed. They were at an inherent disadvantage. Kuni couldn't hit the one man and Ashtor was having problems dealing a meaningful blow to the woman. Sure, he was hitting her, but it wasn't anything fatal, and she was getting many slashes in with that machete of hers. 

Ashtor heard a familiar voice cry out in pain, and turned around just in time to see Kuni being stabbed in the chest, right where his heart was. Ashtor watched as the man took his knife out of his companion's chest and Kuni slumped to the ground like a ragdoll. This was it. he was really going to die...

"You bastards!" Ashtor shouted out as he prepared one huge swipe with his club. It had enough power to plow right through the ladies attempt at blocking it and instead hit her right on the head. She stumbled back and Ashtor lunged forward to deliver another blow to her head. It would have made contact, too, and it would have killed if he hadn't found a sharp pain in his leg,  causing him to take a knee. He looked down where he was and noticed that the woman from earlier, who Kuni had knocked out with his own club, was now concious and stabbing a knife into his calf. 

He gritted his teeth and attempted to swing his club at her, but it was awkward trying to hit someone behind you. He could only weakly swing his club back and forth before suddenly being stabbed right in the throat, ending his life as he slumped to the floor and bled out. 

The Testament members stared at each other, impressed with their own handiwork, as they saw Marta step into the room. "I told you you could do it. I am very pleased...but this place will not be safe now. They know where we are, and they'll send more people..." 

She slowly turned around and began to walk away from the gory mess the room became. "We leave tomorrow morning. We will find our way back to Temple Gate." 

Expert Opinion[]

The expert's believed that most of the credit here belonged to the weapons, which the Testament reigned supreme in. The loadouts were what mattered, in the end, with changed towards the Flops' loadouts being what would have net them the win. Though, due to a lack of known arsenal, this wasn't much possible. 

To see the original battle, weapons and votes, click here.

Edit Section

Battles here were deemed to be unfair or otherwise not in accordance with wiki standards, and have been removed from the statuses of the warriors and displayed below.

Battle vs. Malmedy Survivor (by El Alamein)[]

Malmedy Survivors: Darkred Darkred Darkred Darkred Darkred

Ghetto Flops: Blue Blue Blue Blue Blue

Five members of the U.S. Army have just escaped from the massacre at Malmedy have trudged several miles through the blustering cold, an SS patrol hot on their heels. They come across a fork in the road, and turn down the back route, knowing the SS won't follow that way. They'll wait for the Nazis to double back, and then continue onward. They stumble upon a shelled-out abandoned village, with a few standing cottages and some weak stone walls surrounding the perimiter.

The captain of the group moves in with the only firearm, a Colt M1911 with 2 spare magazines. He signals his men to continue onward and they creep forward, covering their footprints in the snow as they walk forth. They take shelter in the biggest, darkest of the houses, with a half-collapsed roof and a basement. The men rest in the basement while the captain takes first watch.

Meanwhile, an SS truck has crashed after a landmine incident, and 5 Jewish Flops are the only survivors. They steal their dead captor's Luger and take several spare magazines, while they salvage gravity knives and their own crude clubs from the back of the truck. They quickly head down the opposite road and end up in the same village as the Malmedy survivors.

The storm begins to brew stronger and the Flops, barely clothed, sprint for the nearest shelter - the house that the Malmedy survivors are hiding in. Just then, the captain decides his watch is over, and goes down in the basement to send another man up. While he's gone, the Flops occupy the top level and huddle by a dying fire from an explosion in the corner. The sleepy American climbs up the steps and turns to the doorway. He never sees the Flops as they raise the Luger and fire into his back. The American falls to the snowy ground and stains it pink. Darkred The Americans in the basement rush out and the captain fires at the Flops without question, killing the one holding the Luger. Blue The Flops scatter throughout the village, and the Malmedy survivors give chase.

One of the Flops grips his club and hides behind a wall as two Americans are coming. He leaps out and hits one of the soldiers in the stomach, tearing through his belly and knocking him on his back. The other U.S. soldier whips out his bayonet and drives it deep into the Flop's stomach, before tearing it out and running it through his neck. The Flop spits blood in his attacker's face (who winces), then slumps down and dies. Blue Turning, the American wipes his face but sees his friend is long gone, doubled over in a painful position. Darkred Just as soon as this scene is complete, the American stumbles back as a bullet goes through his arm. One of the Flops recovered the Luger and is pushing on the offensive. The American retreats deeper into the village.

The American captain has had to change his magazine for the M1911 and has only 1 spare left. A Flop rushes at him with a gravity knife and slashes at his thigh. It deflects off of a canteen of water and the American whacks the Flop upside his chin with the barrel of the pistol, before turning it round and firing into his chin. Blue The Flop falls and dies instantly. The captain looks down at his uninjured leg in awe before shaking off the feeling and continuing on.

The last two Americans run into the two Flops. Charging at each other with clubs, knives and bayonets, the Flops gang up on the first Malmedy survivor, one jamming a knee into his thigh and the other plunging the gravity knife into his chest. Darkred The American roars in pain and falls back dead but his friend whips the M3 Knife across the back of one of the Flop's necks, cutting the spinal cord at the base of the brain. Blue The two remaining men face off, knife vs. knife. Suddenly, the Flop takes out his Luger and fires, killing his opponent. Darkred

Turning, the Flop sees the last American firing his M1911 at him, charging in rage. The Flop starts to fire back but needs to change magazines. The Malmedy survivor catches up and puts the pistol to the Flop's head, and pulls the trigger. However, he's wasted all of his ammo. Forgetting about reloading, the Malmedy survivor swats the Luger out of his enemy's hand just as he finished reloading. The Flop turns as the Malmedy survivor punches him with his bare fists, blackening an eye and bloodying the nose with the first strike. The Flop tries to counter with a punch to the side of the head but the American catches the fist and twists it backward. The Flop screams in pain and staggers back, giving the Malmedy survivor time enough to scramble back to the Luger and shoot four times at the man's torso. The Flop flails and falls dead. Blue

The Malmedy survivor shakes his head and pockets all the weapons he can find before looking again at his map to see where his nearest Allied base command center is.

Expert's Opinion[]

The Malmedy Survivors beat the Ghetto Flops because, even with scaled-down weaponry they were still trained soldiers, while the Flops were simply desperate men trying to survive in a world falling apart around them. The M1911 had greater stopping power than the Luger and up-close the physically stronger Americans were able to overpower the underfed Flops.

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The battle has been declared invalid because the Jewish Ghetto Police were given firearms which they never used.