Germantown logs

In Fallout 3, when the player explores the ruined town of Germantown, a terminal can be found in the courtyard in front of the Germantown Police HQ building, containing the logs of one Nancy Kroydon. These logs are an eyewitness account relating the events that transpired immediately prior and sometime after the start of the War. They detail her attempts to treat survivors of the war as they fall ill from radiation poisoning, and the logs end when she succumbs to radiation sickness herself.

Nancy Kroydon, Presiding Officer
Log 1

We were mobilized in the early evening. My security clearance isn't high enough to know this on an official level, but I have it on good authority that we're under threat of a Chinese attack. I don't dare share this with the girls; most of them are a solid sort, but I can't trust that some won't desert to try and protect themselves or their families, and wind up spreading panic, especially on flimsy rumors based on flimsier intelligence from DoD.

We haven't been debriefed yet, but it's probably safe to assume we'll be on an evacuation detail in the rural areas. Our unit scored somewhat poorly in the last round of drills, and the high-flyers always get the urban details; we'll be stuck herding farmers and hermits in the hills.

Log 2

This can't have happened. We don't even know if it was the Chinese, but DC was hit. My God. Andrea's unit was on evac detail right on the Belt Loop.

Dear God. More bombs. What's happening?

Log 3

Our unit has been assigned to a National Guard detachment. They drove all night from Pennsylvania. We're doing our best to keep the survivors placated while these boys get their strength up. The looting gets worse every day, and it's a small town. There can't be much left, and there's already been one scuffle at the canteen. These Guardsmen arrived just in time, I fear.

Log 4

Dolores and Rebecca deserted in the night. They had the goodness not to rob us blind on her way out: I had trusted Becky with the keys to the canteen and the artesian well we locked up on Day One.. Several of our survivors were talking rubbish about seeking refuge in a nearby Vault, the girls must have decided to go with them. Damned fools; if anybody made it into those things in time, they bloody well aren't letting any of us in now. I suppose I should just be glad that we have a few less mouths to feed.

Log 5

I took the NCO's advice and set up a quarantine for the worst of the radiation victims. We know better than to think they're contagious, but most of our survivors don't, and it helps keep them calm. We also have an easier time smuggling the bodies out at night. It's not so much that people die; it's how they look when they go. They all think they'll just lose a bit of hair, maybe get a rash. It gets so much worse than that.

Log 6

We're low on Prussian Blue. Most of them don't know what that really means, for which I'm thankful. One of the local doctors in our camp knows about a cancer treatment facility not too far from here. We're sending some of the guardsmen out to investigate. If they can recover any filgrastim, we might be able to stave off widespread radiation sickness a little longer.

Log 7

These days I feel like more of a preacher than a nurse. We've lost hope that the reservists will be back. I can only hope they died with some scrap of honor and didn't abandon us. Without medication, people are succumbing to radiation sickness, for which there is no hope of treatment. We can do nothing more than make our patients comfortable as we await the end. When the painkillers and whiskey run out, prayer is all that we can offer them. I've taken to wearing a headwrap; I don't want them to see how much of my own hair has fallen out.

Log 8

I suppose it seems only right to say goodbye. I ought to know it's hopeless, but maybe one of my sisters is still out there, and I couldn't go without leaving some kind of farewell. Just know that I did everything i could. I tried, and I only with that I could be the last to go, so I could have helped all the others before they met their own end.