Yogi: That was how I seemed to remember it (his devotion to Hitler etc), I just wasn't sure anymore.
I do like the sight of a lighthouse in the middle of New Mexico!
I do like the sight of a lighthouse in the middle of New Mexico!
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Maybe... Or, more likely, the Evil Overlord list was compiled with Fu's (and others') failures in mind.
Gotta give the good guys some real victories every so often.
I think the German ones from OTL could be blown up in flight or nudged off course by Allied pilots in piston-engined fighters...under optimum conditions. I don't know if they can be hit with AA guns. The American pilots could try it.
That's assuming I am remembering right, that Fu hasn't made it even more advanced, and that the Pan-Asian air forces don't interfere.
Even if the American fighters could catch and hit them; they'd have to sacrifice their altitude advantage to dive in and fly straight, leaving themselves vulnerable to attack from Imperial fighters.
...Unless I'm totally wrong (again
).
I hope they get out, but as said earlier what can they do to prevent strikes except evacuate.
What rocket is in that picture? So experimental rocket based on V1?
What rocket is in that picture? So experimental rocket based on V1?
Nukes of the era are waaaay too heavy to be mounted on flying bombs. When did ballistic missiles get invented? 1950s I think, only after extensive experience with nukes and rockets, and in-depth knowledge about how to make them stronger yet smaller and lighter.
On the other hand, he might put something else in there... Zombiefication gas? Killer wasps? A deadly plague?
It looks a little like OTL MGM-1 Matador whcih was an American copy of a V-1
So many aspects of Dr Kanitatlan and wrong but yet others he gets so right. I am becoming to think Yogi is spying on me and trying to disguise the fact.
Nudging V1s was a very late war activity and requires faster aircraft than are currently available. The V1 pulse jet propulsion was very primitive and there is no reason to imagine this version would be any slower so that sort of intercept should not be possible.I think the German ones from OTL could be blown up in flight or nudged off course by Allied pilots in piston-engined fighters...under optimum conditions. I don't know if they can be hit with AA guns. The American pilots could try it.
That's assuming I am remembering right, that Fu hasn't made it even more advanced, and that the Pan-Asian air forces don't interfere.
Even if the American fighters could catch and hit them; they'd have to sacrifice their altitude advantage to dive in and fly straight, leaving themselves vulnerable to attack from Imperial fighters.
...Unless I'm totally wrong (again
The problem with using AA against V1 weapons is that you need to move your AA away from the target. Shooting down a V1 at the target is a remarkably pointless activity as it really doesn't help very much. I would guess that the americans are going to be near defenceless against them and will have to depend on their intrinsic inaccuracy.
If Fu had nukes, the world would find out pretty quickly, is my guess. He's definitely delving into that realm of science thought, aided and abetted by the nefarious Dr No.No, no nukes. Or that project in the Dutch East Indies is superfluous.
I do wonder what Buck and Hanna can actually do about this even if they do warn the Americans. Surely the launch sites will be well defended by Fu fighters et al.
I'm sure he has. The pile in Sumatra is primarily there to power the beam weapon that is supposed to finish off the Royal Navy. The big experimental pile is somewhere else.
Yeah, true, people change, especially when dealing with the beyond. But in this respect, Duhrn remains the same for now.Yogi: That was how I seemed to remember it (his devotion to Hitler etc), I just wasn't sure anymore.
I do like the sight of a lighthouse in the middle of New Mexico!
How else could Fu's evil ultimately be overcome?Maybe... Or, more likely, the Evil Overlord list was compiled with Fu's (and others') failures in mind.
Gotta give the good guys some real victories every so often.
You're not wrong. In fact, Fu has found a way to make his flying bombs better while making them simpler than the V-1. Kudos to the first that can figure out how.I think the German ones from OTL could be blown up in flight or nudged off course by Allied pilots in piston-engined fighters...under optimum conditions. I don't know if they can be hit with AA guns. The American pilots could try it.
That's assuming I am remembering right, that Fu hasn't made it even more advanced, and that the Pan-Asian air forces don't interfere.
Even if the American fighters could catch and hit them; they'd have to sacrifice their altitude advantage to dive in and fly straight, leaving themselves vulnerable to attack from Imperial fighters.
...Unless I'm totally wrong (again
Even evacuating might be a boon. The Fu buzzbomb is the MGM-1 Matador, as spotted by Derek.
Germany had an idea about making lightweight A-bombs (carriable by a V-2) which would reach critical mass by having the Uranium compressed by impact inertia. But that could only ever have been achieved by mounting the missile on a ballistic rocket. Of course, a sub-ground level burst is hardly the most efficent way of delivering a nuclear weapon. It wouldn't have worked on a flying bomb (and probably not on a ballistic rocket either).
Oh yes. There is this particularly gruesome chemical weapon used in "Ten Years Beyond Baker Street"... lets see if I can find my copy. Oh, but it had to be kept in a glass vial. Bad choice of payload then. Oh well, thermobaric warheads are never wrong (except when they are), and good ol' hi-explosive can work magic too.
Well spotted, that's indeed the one.
Spying? On you? Me? <Borat voice> Nooooooooo!?
At the speed these flying bombs are going, shooting them down at all becomes quite a feat. But we'll get to that in future updates!
Now its time to revisit Duhrn, who we find today doing some sleuthing in a KZ deep in the Masovian forests of northern Poland....
Enjoy!
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Konzentrationlager 13, Sobótka
German Generalgouvernament of Poland
Wednesday, August 27th 1940
The two men from the SS-Totenkopfverbände standing guard at the boom barrier at the gates of Konzentrationlager 13 lifted their heads.
‘Hear that?’ one asked.
The other nodded. ‘Visitors. None are scheduled for today, are they?’
‘Nope.’
Both men unslung their 98K rifles from their backs and cocked them. Frontline troops were slowly being issued the new M40 semiautomatic rifle, the German license-built version of the American M1, but the KZ guards had lowest priority and still made do with the heavy but very accurate bolt action weapons.
The sound of engines became stronger and stronger, and the lead vehicles became visible through the dense forest through which the road ran. First came two BMW motorcycles with sidecars armed with MG 34 machine guns. Rider and machine gunner wore Wehrmacht greatcoats, dust goggles and steel helmets, and wore submachine guns slung over their backs. Then came a glossy black Mercedes limousine, followed by a SdKfz-251 halftrack packed with troops.
Amid a cloud of dust, the motorcade pulled to a halt at the boom gate of KZ of Sobótka.
While it settled, the two guards stared with apprehension at the swastika pennant flying from the hood, a sure sign there was a high-ranker inside. Troops clad in silver grey SS uniforms and toting MP-40 submachine guns poured out from the halftrack. When the guards spotted the blank black collar patches designating RSHA personnel and the “H” on their sleeve diamonds, they bleached and stood to stiff attention as one of the troops opened the back door of the Mercedes and an Obersturmbannführer in full dress uniform stepped out. His eyes hidden in shadow under the peak of his cap, he walked with slow, measured steps towards the guards until he stood face to face with them.
They saluted crisply, looking straight ahead.
‘Heil Hitler!’
Duhrn returned it textbook version.
‘Heil Hitler. I’m Obersturmbannführer Günther Duhrn, Director of Department VIII of the RSHA’, he explained in a cold, inflexible voice. ‘I’m here to inspect the camp. Show me to your commanding officer.’
Department VIII! The rank and file of the SS was alive with rumours about the new addition to the RSHA organisation. It was known as “Hexapo” and “the Eight ball department” in reference to the absolute secrecy it operated under and to its numeral. As to its activities, only guesswork and speculation had anything to say, but nothing of it was reassuring and most of it disturbing or outright frightening. And so was this pale, white-haired high-ranker.
‘Yes, Obersturmbannführer!’ one of the guards shouted. ‘Please follow me, I’ll take you to Haupsturmführer Hess!’
Leading the column of his men, Duhrn followed the guard through the gate and into the camp. It was hidden among the trees of the Masovian conifer forest, many of which still stood inside the unusually tall barbed wired fence which delimited the camp. Wooden barracks lined the impromptu streets, mere muddy ruts in the ground. Prisoners in striped uniforms, all female, peered fearfully out from the windows, most of them gaunt but not emaciated.
Passing through another fence and gate, they reached the administrative buildings. Duhrn removed his peaked cap and placed it under his left arm as the guard led him and his men into the largest barrack seen so far. Inside there was a large concourse furnished as a lounge, complete with plush couches and armchairs, coffee tables, pot plants and even a massive and well stocked bar.
There were two blonde girls in the lounge, one in her early twenties and the other in her late and both remarkably good-looking. They were garbed in some sort of bizarre approximation of the old all black SS uniform designed by Hugo Boss; tight black leather jacket worn without any shirt and complete with SS runes and Totenkopf on the lapels, red and white swastika armband, a broad black belt accommodating a pistol and a stock whip, very tightly drawn for a wasp waist look, a peaked SS uniform cap worn heavily tilted, black tight-fitting female riding trousers, high black leather boots and gloves and most outrageous of all, obviously fake Knight’s Crosses around their bare necks. The two were remarkably alike, quite possibly siblings. Their appearance was not as bizarre, however, as what they were doing. Both sat at a coffee table, smoking and with glasses of schnapps in their hands. A bottle of the liquor stood on the table between them. But they sat on not in armchairs but on the backs of female prisoners who stood on all four on the floor. On a polished wood stand, a record player blared out loud American Jazz.
Duhrn inhaled deeply and gave the two a withering stare.
‘What is the meaning of this?! Are you having a costume party?’ he roared. ‘Answer me!’
The two girls jumped to their feet and exchanged bewildered stares. The two prisoner didn’t even look up, their eyes dead, unseeing.
‘Eh… I mean…’ the younger of the uniformed girls began, looking terrified, but the older one interrupted her.
‘Look, sonny, why don’t you take it up with Franz?’ she said with brazen insolence. ‘He calls the shots around here!’
Without a word Duhrn took a step forward, raised a gloved hand and calmly delivered a savage open-handed slap to her face, dropping her. Her glass of schnapps shattered, spilling out a pool of the pungent liquid. The peaked cap with the SS death head rolled on the wooden floor.
‘Gretchen!’ the younger one shouted.
As she lifted her face from the wooden floor, Gretchen’s expression changed gradually from surprise to outrage. A large, bright red stain appeared on her smooth check.
‘You bastard! I’ll-’ she began.
‘Shut up, whore!’ Duhrn hissed. ‘I will take this up with Hess, be certain of it! Don’t you dare going anywhere until I come back!’
The door to Hess’s office opened and the camp commander stumbled out. He was in his fifties, balding, greying and rather portly. There was something depraved about his features, a certain feminine quality to the basically male features. In regulation black SS uniform, his lapel carried a WWI Iron Cross 2nd Class and a War Merit Cross - without swords, the type awarded to civilians for actions of war merit behind the front lines.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ the camp commander roared before spotting Duhrn’s insignia and snapping his mouth shut.
‘I should ask the same’, Duhrn asked coldly, nodding towards the two uniformed women. ‘Have you set up a brothel in your office, Hauptsturmführer Hess?’
Hess raised his hands in a placating gesture. ‘Now, now, Obersturmbannführer…?’
‘Duhrn. Günther Duhrn, Director of RSHA Department VIII.’
If Hess was impressed, he didn’t show it.
‘Look Obersturmbannführer, let’s all be friends here, Ja? I see you have met my lovely lieutenants, Eva and Gretchen Krupp. Yes, from the Krupp family. Cousins of Alfried Krupp himself. They’re very valuable to me for managing the prisoners, as this is a female concentration camp. So hard to find female helpers with the, shall we say, correct unsentimental attitude? So we make some allowances for--style.’
Duhrn’s face showed no trace of emotion as he remained silent for a few seconds. ‘Allowances. For style. Indeed. Tell me, are these charming young ladies perhaps employees of the SS?’
‘Yes, Obersturmbannführer.’
‘Really? I will see their pay books before I leave. Since they’re your friends, as a show of courtesy to you, I’ll forget this once about wearing head dress indoors and showing disrespect to a superior officer. Just see to it that it isn’t repeated. Even that mockery of a uniform, I can overlook, just as long as it’s not worn outside of the camp. It does look rather saucy, I’ll give you that. But Hauptsturmführer…?’
‘Yes, Obersturmbannführer?’ Hess smiled, feeling more at ease. Obviously Duhrn wasn’t such a hard case after all.
‘I happen to personally know the only female recipient to date of the Iron Cross First Class, which as you know must be awarded before receiving the Knight’s Cross. Your two tarts using it as a fetish spits in the face of the heroes of the Reich who have earned it!’
Hess’s eyes were drawn to the Knight’s Cross hanging under Duhrn’s chin. He swallowed. ‘I’ll see to it at once, Obersturmbannführer!’
‘You better, because if I ever see those bitches wearing an unauthorised decoration again, I’ll have your head on a platter, and I mean that quite literally! Have I made myself clear?’
His eyes bulging, Hess nodded enthusiastically, his brow now shining with perspiration. ‘Very, very clear, Obersturmbannführer!’
‘Good! Now, with this foolishness taken care off, I want to see the facilities. Give me the grand tour!’
‘Well, about that, you see, I…’ Hess sputtered, but Duhrn was relentless.
‘Nonsense!’ He nodded towards the Krupp sisters. ‘Lead the way, Ladies!’
Escorted by Hess and the sisters, Duhrn had been showed all of the camp, with the conspicuous absence of one barrack which was clearly not for prisoner use. When Duhrn had asked about it, Hess claimed that it was one of stores houses they had already visited. Duhrn smiled cynically and decided to save it for last. As of yet, he had only been shown the outside of the prisoner facilities, and he wanted a good look at the prisoners.
‘There’, he said, pointing at one of the grey wood houses, long and narrow single story constructions all of them. ‘Let’s go inside. I want to inspect the prisoners.’
Hess squirmed. ‘But… but they’re only Polish untermenschen, full of lice and disease! You don’t want to waste your precious time with them! Hehe, tell you what, Obersturmbannführer, we have a special collection of the most beautiful of the inmates, cleaned up and set aside in a good barrack, with heating, carpets, clean beds…’
‘I have no doubt’, Duhrn commented dryly. His disgust for the microcosm of venality, idiocy and power abuse that was KZ 13 was rising like bile in his throat. The scum. The filthy scum!
‘So… why don’t you inspect that one instead?’ Hess suggested with innuendo heavy as a Panzer IV.
‘Perhaps later’, Duhrn said noncommittally. ‘Now I want to see this one. I have all the time in the world!’
Hess exchanged despairing glances with the blondes but did not object any further. One of Duhrn’s men unlatched the bar lock and kicked open the door with a crash. Duhrn slowly stepped inside, each of his steps making a hollow sound from the plank floor until he stopped a few steps inside. The inmates shrunk back from him like rats from the light, pressing themselves up against the walls. There were all women, aged from their teens to their thirties. There were no men, no elderly. All of them were dirty, in dirty uniforms, their scalps shaved. Their eyes were downcast, their brows… their brows!
‘Achtung! Duhrn shouted. ‘Line up for inspection!’ He wasn’t sure if that was the usual drill in this KZ but it would be similar enough that the Polish inmates would understand.
They did. In a matter of seconds, there were two straight lines of women standing at attention. Duhrn turned back towards Hess, who stood in the door.
‘Good discipline, Hauptsturmführer. My compliments, you run a tight ship! Now, your cane if you please.’
Hess carried around a riding cane, which he handed to Duhrn. With it clasped in his right hand, held behind his back he began walking down the line of prisoners. All looked down at the floor as he passed. Here and there he stopped to lift a chin with the cane, and inspected the faces, and more specifically, their eyebrows. Yes, there was no mistake. The fingernails? Yes, the telltale trait was there too.
He stopped before a random prisoner, a young girl with large, dark and very frightened eyes and fine features.
‘Look at me!’ he barked, and she instantly complied, frightened half to death. ‘You come from a large family, don’t you? Answer me!’
‘I—Yes, yes I do! I have six brothers and sisters!’
‘All of them older, am I right?’ he asked more softly.
She looked dumbstruck. ‘How… how did you know?’
Ignoring her, he marched back to the entrance, went out again and slammed the door shut behind him.
‘Very good, Hess. Now, I believe you have an isolation compound, right?’
‘Yes—yes of course, Obersturmbannführer!’
‘Indeed. Not something one would want to go without in this line of business, I’d gather. Let’s see that now, shall we?’
‘But… but you can’t go inside, there’s a dangerous prisoner…’
‘At this time of the month?’ Duhrn said quizzically. ‘I highly doubt it.’
The isolation area was an empty cube of barbed wire, open to the sky except for a wire roof. Duhrn went inside through the unlocked gate and poked in the dusty ground with the cane, drawing anxious looks from Hess and the Krupp sisters. Yes, just as he had thought. The wire cube had walls, roof – and a floor, if covered by half a foot of dirt. Barbed wire there too. He stood next to the fence and examined the barbs, scraped one with the edge of his ceremonial dagger to take away the oxide. Bright metal gleamed in the sunlight.
Duhrn looked Hess right in the eyes and whistled. ‘Not bad, Hess. You spent some good money on this, I’d wager.
The camp commandant looked thoroughly despairing. ‘But Obersturmbannführer, for the love of God - What are you looking for? What do you want from us?’
‘I’ve already told you – to inspect the camp. I think I have it figured out now, except for a couple of loose ends, so to speak. But you know, you’ve forgotten to show me the most important thing of all!’
‘What!? No, Obersturmbannführer Duhrn, you’ve been everywhere, I assure you!’
‘Really Hess, for a KZ commandant, you’re most absent-minded. This is a re-education camp, right? So where are the class rooms? Where are the teachers?’
‘Well, you see…’
‘No, don’t tell me. We have in fact forgotten one building during your tour. Let me show the way!’
‘No! Wait!’ Hess extended an arm to stop him.
Two of Duhrn’s troopers immediately seized the frantic commandant by the arms, and others levelled their submachine guns at the pale Krupp sisters.
With the group following in his steps, Duhrn walked straight towards the unexpected barrack, very similar in most respects to the others, except all windows were cowered by curtains and a large flowerbed filled with small blue flowers was arranged along one of the long walls. Two Totenkopf guards stood outside the entrance. One look from Duhrn and they scrambled out of his way, coming to attention.
Duhrn stopped to pick one of the flowers and smelled it.
‘Aconitum variegatum—what else?’
Just as he was about to open the door, Hess howled in fury, struggling against his captors.
‘Stop it, you idiot! You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into!’
‘Actually, I think I have a pretty good idea. This is no re-education camp.’
‘You know nothing, you fool! We take our orders directly from Heydrich!’
‘Yes, I know that. He has provided you with many million Reich marks in misappropriated SS funds. I also know what you’re up to here at KZ 13.’
‘Yeah, right!’ Gretchen Krupp said with heavy sarcasm.
‘Let’s see…’ Duhrn counted the evidence on his fingers.’
‘Your prisoners are all seventh siblings. They have grown together eyebrows and crooked finger nails. When they get out of line – which predictably happens a couple of nights a month – you keep them in a cage made of silver barbed wire. And to rest my case – a flowerbed full of Wolfsbane.’
Franz Hess’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets and both of the sisters seemed about to be sick. ‘W-what—what—‘
‘Oh Mensche, do I need to spell it out for you? You run a werewolf KZ! You have searched all over Poland for seventh siblings, traditionally associated with lycanthropy. Either you choose among them those with grown together eyebrows and crooked nails, or you got lucky early and the others have been infected since. You keep them from turning all at once by giving them shots of Wolfsbane serum, distilled inside your laboratory here, soon before full moon.’
‘But—but that is madness!’ Hess objected. ‘You can’t possibly believe--’
‘Madness? I should say so! You see, that’s the only thing I can’t figure out; why would anyone want to fill a camp with werewolf women – and why only women? If there should be a breakout, with so many infected… it’s a clear and present threat to the very security of the Reich! So unless you can show me a damned good reason for this lunacy – no pun intended – I’m going to have all three of you arrested and dragged before a people’s court. We’ll figure out the charges in due time.’
There was a creak from the lab door. ‘I can give you reasons Günther, if you will listen!’ a raspy voice offered behind Duhrn’s back.
He didn’t turn at once. ‘Von Strasser. I was wondering when you’d show up. This place wouldn’t be complete without your demented theories and your stink. I suppose the hump makes it hard to reach some places on the rare occasions that you bathe?’
Now Duhrn turned and faced the man standing in the vane of the barrack door. Von Strasser’s brutish features contrasted disturbingly with his well-groomed moustache and elaborate hair cut. He wore a white lab coat which bulged alarmingly over his left shoulder, and his posture was stooped.
He shook his head in mock displeasure. ‘Doctor von Strasser, if you please! Your manners haven’t improved since University. You were always a bully, but I’ll admit that you also had more vision than most of the other cattle there. So come in, listen, and I’ll tell you everything there is to know about Project Pure Wolf!’
An hour had passed. Outside the windows of von Strasser’s laboratory, light was failing, and still his coarse, dementedly excited voice kept droning on.
‘…and although the tests cost us a few dozen test subjects, they proved conclusively what I’ve always maintained; the notion that the saliva of the Werewolf propagates the curse to anyone bitten is nothing but Hollywood fantasy.’
Duhrn nodded. ‘I guess it’s not too surprising. After all, if Lycanthropy was simply an infectious disease, then why the strong association of the condition with the seventh sibling? So it’s congenital?’
‘Yes, and no! What we’re dealing with here is indeed a virus, but a completely different one from those we know. It lies dormant within the human genome, passed on from parent to progeny and only becomes active under special circumstances. And we’ve found that one strongly contributing factor for activation is being born from the seventh pregnancy of a mother. Probably some hormonal thing, I don’t know yet. Puberty, pregnancy, some psychological conditions such as schizophrenia and certain diseases such as rabies also seem to have a triggering effect. Seen in that context, we’ve also found that when the predisposition does exist, the virus present in the saliva of a werewolf can indeed trigger the activation of the embedded virus. Anyhow, I’ve been able to establish a simple blood test to verify the presence of the embedded virus, and concocted a drug that will activate it. So far, the shot is 100% lethal to men, but only about 30% percent to women. You should see the failed ones Günther, their deaths are… engrossing! So messy, so painful!’
‘Fascinating, von Strasser! I’ve got to admit, I had you figured for a nutcase. I might have been wrong, but I still fail to see the use of this. The end result of it all is a camp filled once a month with out of control werewolves.’
‘Now comes the good part!’ von Strasser said, smiling obscenely. ‘I’m sure you know the legends always refer to two types of werewolf; the voluntary werewolves, those that can turn at will and retain control of their actions, and those slaves to the lunar cycle. Well, my blood test can now differentiate between the two types. In essence, by screening a large number of candidates, I can cull out those that will become voluntary werewolves and inject my Lupogenine drug only in them! And the best of it is, while the seventh siblings are more likely to have the embedded virus activated, a large proportion of the population returns a positive result on the blood test. I could potentially build an ARMY of Werewolf women for the Reich!’
‘Except, of course, 1/3 of your subjects die, don’t they?’
Von Strasser shrugged, a disturbing sight given his deformity. ‘One cannot make an omelette without breaking eggs, Duhrn. I didn’t figure you squeamish.’
‘I’m not. As far as I’m concerned, those are acceptable losses, and you’ve struck gold. All right Heinrich, don’t worry about a thing. Your project will receive my unconditional support. In fact, I have every hope Camp 13 will soon come under my jurisdiction as head of Department VIII. Then we can start searching for suitable volunteers for building a werewolf Abteilung!’
Duhrn left, feeling giddy. What a discovery! Project Pure Wolf was indeed the quintessential Wunderwaffen!
Right outside the lab door, he stopped dead. In the white light from the electric camp illumination, blood shone bright red running down the length of ten stout poles driven into the ground. Each one was crowned with the spitted head of a Hexapo trooper – his entire escort.
He whirled, only to find von Strasser standing in the door behind him, smiling lewdly. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he realised what had happened.
‘Günther, I forgot to tell you’ the scientist mocked him. ‘We’ve already found two volunteers, and both were successfully treated. I think you’ve met them already – isn’t it amazing what you can hide with a razor and a pair of gloves? But allow me to formally introduce them to you; Günther Duhrn, meet the Krupp sisters. Krupp sisters… dinner is served!’
They had been hiding behind the corners of the building. They we’re monstrous. As they pounced, he could not repress a panicked shriek.
German Generalgouvernament of Poland
Wednesday, August 27th 1940
The two men from the SS-Totenkopfverbände standing guard at the boom barrier at the gates of Konzentrationlager 13 lifted their heads.
‘Hear that?’ one asked.
The other nodded. ‘Visitors. None are scheduled for today, are they?’
‘Nope.’
Both men unslung their 98K rifles from their backs and cocked them. Frontline troops were slowly being issued the new M40 semiautomatic rifle, the German license-built version of the American M1, but the KZ guards had lowest priority and still made do with the heavy but very accurate bolt action weapons.
The sound of engines became stronger and stronger, and the lead vehicles became visible through the dense forest through which the road ran. First came two BMW motorcycles with sidecars armed with MG 34 machine guns. Rider and machine gunner wore Wehrmacht greatcoats, dust goggles and steel helmets, and wore submachine guns slung over their backs. Then came a glossy black Mercedes limousine, followed by a SdKfz-251 halftrack packed with troops.
Amid a cloud of dust, the motorcade pulled to a halt at the boom gate of KZ of Sobótka.
While it settled, the two guards stared with apprehension at the swastika pennant flying from the hood, a sure sign there was a high-ranker inside. Troops clad in silver grey SS uniforms and toting MP-40 submachine guns poured out from the halftrack. When the guards spotted the blank black collar patches designating RSHA personnel and the “H” on their sleeve diamonds, they bleached and stood to stiff attention as one of the troops opened the back door of the Mercedes and an Obersturmbannführer in full dress uniform stepped out. His eyes hidden in shadow under the peak of his cap, he walked with slow, measured steps towards the guards until he stood face to face with them.
They saluted crisply, looking straight ahead.
‘Heil Hitler!’
Duhrn returned it textbook version.
‘Heil Hitler. I’m Obersturmbannführer Günther Duhrn, Director of Department VIII of the RSHA’, he explained in a cold, inflexible voice. ‘I’m here to inspect the camp. Show me to your commanding officer.’
Department VIII! The rank and file of the SS was alive with rumours about the new addition to the RSHA organisation. It was known as “Hexapo” and “the Eight ball department” in reference to the absolute secrecy it operated under and to its numeral. As to its activities, only guesswork and speculation had anything to say, but nothing of it was reassuring and most of it disturbing or outright frightening. And so was this pale, white-haired high-ranker.
‘Yes, Obersturmbannführer!’ one of the guards shouted. ‘Please follow me, I’ll take you to Haupsturmführer Hess!’
Leading the column of his men, Duhrn followed the guard through the gate and into the camp. It was hidden among the trees of the Masovian conifer forest, many of which still stood inside the unusually tall barbed wired fence which delimited the camp. Wooden barracks lined the impromptu streets, mere muddy ruts in the ground. Prisoners in striped uniforms, all female, peered fearfully out from the windows, most of them gaunt but not emaciated.
Passing through another fence and gate, they reached the administrative buildings. Duhrn removed his peaked cap and placed it under his left arm as the guard led him and his men into the largest barrack seen so far. Inside there was a large concourse furnished as a lounge, complete with plush couches and armchairs, coffee tables, pot plants and even a massive and well stocked bar.
There were two blonde girls in the lounge, one in her early twenties and the other in her late and both remarkably good-looking. They were garbed in some sort of bizarre approximation of the old all black SS uniform designed by Hugo Boss; tight black leather jacket worn without any shirt and complete with SS runes and Totenkopf on the lapels, red and white swastika armband, a broad black belt accommodating a pistol and a stock whip, very tightly drawn for a wasp waist look, a peaked SS uniform cap worn heavily tilted, black tight-fitting female riding trousers, high black leather boots and gloves and most outrageous of all, obviously fake Knight’s Crosses around their bare necks. The two were remarkably alike, quite possibly siblings. Their appearance was not as bizarre, however, as what they were doing. Both sat at a coffee table, smoking and with glasses of schnapps in their hands. A bottle of the liquor stood on the table between them. But they sat on not in armchairs but on the backs of female prisoners who stood on all four on the floor. On a polished wood stand, a record player blared out loud American Jazz.
Duhrn inhaled deeply and gave the two a withering stare.
‘What is the meaning of this?! Are you having a costume party?’ he roared. ‘Answer me!’
The two girls jumped to their feet and exchanged bewildered stares. The two prisoner didn’t even look up, their eyes dead, unseeing.
‘Eh… I mean…’ the younger of the uniformed girls began, looking terrified, but the older one interrupted her.
‘Look, sonny, why don’t you take it up with Franz?’ she said with brazen insolence. ‘He calls the shots around here!’
Without a word Duhrn took a step forward, raised a gloved hand and calmly delivered a savage open-handed slap to her face, dropping her. Her glass of schnapps shattered, spilling out a pool of the pungent liquid. The peaked cap with the SS death head rolled on the wooden floor.
‘Gretchen!’ the younger one shouted.
As she lifted her face from the wooden floor, Gretchen’s expression changed gradually from surprise to outrage. A large, bright red stain appeared on her smooth check.
‘You bastard! I’ll-’ she began.
‘Shut up, whore!’ Duhrn hissed. ‘I will take this up with Hess, be certain of it! Don’t you dare going anywhere until I come back!’
The door to Hess’s office opened and the camp commander stumbled out. He was in his fifties, balding, greying and rather portly. There was something depraved about his features, a certain feminine quality to the basically male features. In regulation black SS uniform, his lapel carried a WWI Iron Cross 2nd Class and a War Merit Cross - without swords, the type awarded to civilians for actions of war merit behind the front lines.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ the camp commander roared before spotting Duhrn’s insignia and snapping his mouth shut.
‘I should ask the same’, Duhrn asked coldly, nodding towards the two uniformed women. ‘Have you set up a brothel in your office, Hauptsturmführer Hess?’
Hess raised his hands in a placating gesture. ‘Now, now, Obersturmbannführer…?’
‘Duhrn. Günther Duhrn, Director of RSHA Department VIII.’
If Hess was impressed, he didn’t show it.
‘Look Obersturmbannführer, let’s all be friends here, Ja? I see you have met my lovely lieutenants, Eva and Gretchen Krupp. Yes, from the Krupp family. Cousins of Alfried Krupp himself. They’re very valuable to me for managing the prisoners, as this is a female concentration camp. So hard to find female helpers with the, shall we say, correct unsentimental attitude? So we make some allowances for--style.’
Duhrn’s face showed no trace of emotion as he remained silent for a few seconds. ‘Allowances. For style. Indeed. Tell me, are these charming young ladies perhaps employees of the SS?’
‘Yes, Obersturmbannführer.’
‘Really? I will see their pay books before I leave. Since they’re your friends, as a show of courtesy to you, I’ll forget this once about wearing head dress indoors and showing disrespect to a superior officer. Just see to it that it isn’t repeated. Even that mockery of a uniform, I can overlook, just as long as it’s not worn outside of the camp. It does look rather saucy, I’ll give you that. But Hauptsturmführer…?’
‘Yes, Obersturmbannführer?’ Hess smiled, feeling more at ease. Obviously Duhrn wasn’t such a hard case after all.
‘I happen to personally know the only female recipient to date of the Iron Cross First Class, which as you know must be awarded before receiving the Knight’s Cross. Your two tarts using it as a fetish spits in the face of the heroes of the Reich who have earned it!’
Hess’s eyes were drawn to the Knight’s Cross hanging under Duhrn’s chin. He swallowed. ‘I’ll see to it at once, Obersturmbannführer!’
‘You better, because if I ever see those bitches wearing an unauthorised decoration again, I’ll have your head on a platter, and I mean that quite literally! Have I made myself clear?’
His eyes bulging, Hess nodded enthusiastically, his brow now shining with perspiration. ‘Very, very clear, Obersturmbannführer!’
‘Good! Now, with this foolishness taken care off, I want to see the facilities. Give me the grand tour!’
‘Well, about that, you see, I…’ Hess sputtered, but Duhrn was relentless.
‘Nonsense!’ He nodded towards the Krupp sisters. ‘Lead the way, Ladies!’
****
Escorted by Hess and the sisters, Duhrn had been showed all of the camp, with the conspicuous absence of one barrack which was clearly not for prisoner use. When Duhrn had asked about it, Hess claimed that it was one of stores houses they had already visited. Duhrn smiled cynically and decided to save it for last. As of yet, he had only been shown the outside of the prisoner facilities, and he wanted a good look at the prisoners.
‘There’, he said, pointing at one of the grey wood houses, long and narrow single story constructions all of them. ‘Let’s go inside. I want to inspect the prisoners.’
Hess squirmed. ‘But… but they’re only Polish untermenschen, full of lice and disease! You don’t want to waste your precious time with them! Hehe, tell you what, Obersturmbannführer, we have a special collection of the most beautiful of the inmates, cleaned up and set aside in a good barrack, with heating, carpets, clean beds…’
‘I have no doubt’, Duhrn commented dryly. His disgust for the microcosm of venality, idiocy and power abuse that was KZ 13 was rising like bile in his throat. The scum. The filthy scum!
‘So… why don’t you inspect that one instead?’ Hess suggested with innuendo heavy as a Panzer IV.
‘Perhaps later’, Duhrn said noncommittally. ‘Now I want to see this one. I have all the time in the world!’
Hess exchanged despairing glances with the blondes but did not object any further. One of Duhrn’s men unlatched the bar lock and kicked open the door with a crash. Duhrn slowly stepped inside, each of his steps making a hollow sound from the plank floor until he stopped a few steps inside. The inmates shrunk back from him like rats from the light, pressing themselves up against the walls. There were all women, aged from their teens to their thirties. There were no men, no elderly. All of them were dirty, in dirty uniforms, their scalps shaved. Their eyes were downcast, their brows… their brows!
‘Achtung! Duhrn shouted. ‘Line up for inspection!’ He wasn’t sure if that was the usual drill in this KZ but it would be similar enough that the Polish inmates would understand.
They did. In a matter of seconds, there were two straight lines of women standing at attention. Duhrn turned back towards Hess, who stood in the door.
‘Good discipline, Hauptsturmführer. My compliments, you run a tight ship! Now, your cane if you please.’
Hess carried around a riding cane, which he handed to Duhrn. With it clasped in his right hand, held behind his back he began walking down the line of prisoners. All looked down at the floor as he passed. Here and there he stopped to lift a chin with the cane, and inspected the faces, and more specifically, their eyebrows. Yes, there was no mistake. The fingernails? Yes, the telltale trait was there too.
He stopped before a random prisoner, a young girl with large, dark and very frightened eyes and fine features.
‘Look at me!’ he barked, and she instantly complied, frightened half to death. ‘You come from a large family, don’t you? Answer me!’
‘I—Yes, yes I do! I have six brothers and sisters!’
‘All of them older, am I right?’ he asked more softly.
She looked dumbstruck. ‘How… how did you know?’
Ignoring her, he marched back to the entrance, went out again and slammed the door shut behind him.
‘Very good, Hess. Now, I believe you have an isolation compound, right?’
‘Yes—yes of course, Obersturmbannführer!’
‘Indeed. Not something one would want to go without in this line of business, I’d gather. Let’s see that now, shall we?’
‘But… but you can’t go inside, there’s a dangerous prisoner…’
‘At this time of the month?’ Duhrn said quizzically. ‘I highly doubt it.’
The isolation area was an empty cube of barbed wire, open to the sky except for a wire roof. Duhrn went inside through the unlocked gate and poked in the dusty ground with the cane, drawing anxious looks from Hess and the Krupp sisters. Yes, just as he had thought. The wire cube had walls, roof – and a floor, if covered by half a foot of dirt. Barbed wire there too. He stood next to the fence and examined the barbs, scraped one with the edge of his ceremonial dagger to take away the oxide. Bright metal gleamed in the sunlight.
Duhrn looked Hess right in the eyes and whistled. ‘Not bad, Hess. You spent some good money on this, I’d wager.
The camp commandant looked thoroughly despairing. ‘But Obersturmbannführer, for the love of God - What are you looking for? What do you want from us?’
‘I’ve already told you – to inspect the camp. I think I have it figured out now, except for a couple of loose ends, so to speak. But you know, you’ve forgotten to show me the most important thing of all!’
‘What!? No, Obersturmbannführer Duhrn, you’ve been everywhere, I assure you!’
‘Really Hess, for a KZ commandant, you’re most absent-minded. This is a re-education camp, right? So where are the class rooms? Where are the teachers?’
‘Well, you see…’
‘No, don’t tell me. We have in fact forgotten one building during your tour. Let me show the way!’
‘No! Wait!’ Hess extended an arm to stop him.
Two of Duhrn’s troopers immediately seized the frantic commandant by the arms, and others levelled their submachine guns at the pale Krupp sisters.
With the group following in his steps, Duhrn walked straight towards the unexpected barrack, very similar in most respects to the others, except all windows were cowered by curtains and a large flowerbed filled with small blue flowers was arranged along one of the long walls. Two Totenkopf guards stood outside the entrance. One look from Duhrn and they scrambled out of his way, coming to attention.
Duhrn stopped to pick one of the flowers and smelled it.
‘Aconitum variegatum—what else?’
Just as he was about to open the door, Hess howled in fury, struggling against his captors.
‘Stop it, you idiot! You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into!’
‘Actually, I think I have a pretty good idea. This is no re-education camp.’
‘You know nothing, you fool! We take our orders directly from Heydrich!’
‘Yes, I know that. He has provided you with many million Reich marks in misappropriated SS funds. I also know what you’re up to here at KZ 13.’
‘Yeah, right!’ Gretchen Krupp said with heavy sarcasm.
‘Let’s see…’ Duhrn counted the evidence on his fingers.’
‘Your prisoners are all seventh siblings. They have grown together eyebrows and crooked finger nails. When they get out of line – which predictably happens a couple of nights a month – you keep them in a cage made of silver barbed wire. And to rest my case – a flowerbed full of Wolfsbane.’
Franz Hess’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets and both of the sisters seemed about to be sick. ‘W-what—what—‘
‘Oh Mensche, do I need to spell it out for you? You run a werewolf KZ! You have searched all over Poland for seventh siblings, traditionally associated with lycanthropy. Either you choose among them those with grown together eyebrows and crooked nails, or you got lucky early and the others have been infected since. You keep them from turning all at once by giving them shots of Wolfsbane serum, distilled inside your laboratory here, soon before full moon.’
‘But—but that is madness!’ Hess objected. ‘You can’t possibly believe--’
‘Madness? I should say so! You see, that’s the only thing I can’t figure out; why would anyone want to fill a camp with werewolf women – and why only women? If there should be a breakout, with so many infected… it’s a clear and present threat to the very security of the Reich! So unless you can show me a damned good reason for this lunacy – no pun intended – I’m going to have all three of you arrested and dragged before a people’s court. We’ll figure out the charges in due time.’
There was a creak from the lab door. ‘I can give you reasons Günther, if you will listen!’ a raspy voice offered behind Duhrn’s back.
He didn’t turn at once. ‘Von Strasser. I was wondering when you’d show up. This place wouldn’t be complete without your demented theories and your stink. I suppose the hump makes it hard to reach some places on the rare occasions that you bathe?’
Now Duhrn turned and faced the man standing in the vane of the barrack door. Von Strasser’s brutish features contrasted disturbingly with his well-groomed moustache and elaborate hair cut. He wore a white lab coat which bulged alarmingly over his left shoulder, and his posture was stooped.
He shook his head in mock displeasure. ‘Doctor von Strasser, if you please! Your manners haven’t improved since University. You were always a bully, but I’ll admit that you also had more vision than most of the other cattle there. So come in, listen, and I’ll tell you everything there is to know about Project Pure Wolf!’
****
An hour had passed. Outside the windows of von Strasser’s laboratory, light was failing, and still his coarse, dementedly excited voice kept droning on.
‘…and although the tests cost us a few dozen test subjects, they proved conclusively what I’ve always maintained; the notion that the saliva of the Werewolf propagates the curse to anyone bitten is nothing but Hollywood fantasy.’
Duhrn nodded. ‘I guess it’s not too surprising. After all, if Lycanthropy was simply an infectious disease, then why the strong association of the condition with the seventh sibling? So it’s congenital?’
‘Yes, and no! What we’re dealing with here is indeed a virus, but a completely different one from those we know. It lies dormant within the human genome, passed on from parent to progeny and only becomes active under special circumstances. And we’ve found that one strongly contributing factor for activation is being born from the seventh pregnancy of a mother. Probably some hormonal thing, I don’t know yet. Puberty, pregnancy, some psychological conditions such as schizophrenia and certain diseases such as rabies also seem to have a triggering effect. Seen in that context, we’ve also found that when the predisposition does exist, the virus present in the saliva of a werewolf can indeed trigger the activation of the embedded virus. Anyhow, I’ve been able to establish a simple blood test to verify the presence of the embedded virus, and concocted a drug that will activate it. So far, the shot is 100% lethal to men, but only about 30% percent to women. You should see the failed ones Günther, their deaths are… engrossing! So messy, so painful!’
‘Fascinating, von Strasser! I’ve got to admit, I had you figured for a nutcase. I might have been wrong, but I still fail to see the use of this. The end result of it all is a camp filled once a month with out of control werewolves.’
‘Now comes the good part!’ von Strasser said, smiling obscenely. ‘I’m sure you know the legends always refer to two types of werewolf; the voluntary werewolves, those that can turn at will and retain control of their actions, and those slaves to the lunar cycle. Well, my blood test can now differentiate between the two types. In essence, by screening a large number of candidates, I can cull out those that will become voluntary werewolves and inject my Lupogenine drug only in them! And the best of it is, while the seventh siblings are more likely to have the embedded virus activated, a large proportion of the population returns a positive result on the blood test. I could potentially build an ARMY of Werewolf women for the Reich!’
‘Except, of course, 1/3 of your subjects die, don’t they?’
Von Strasser shrugged, a disturbing sight given his deformity. ‘One cannot make an omelette without breaking eggs, Duhrn. I didn’t figure you squeamish.’
‘I’m not. As far as I’m concerned, those are acceptable losses, and you’ve struck gold. All right Heinrich, don’t worry about a thing. Your project will receive my unconditional support. In fact, I have every hope Camp 13 will soon come under my jurisdiction as head of Department VIII. Then we can start searching for suitable volunteers for building a werewolf Abteilung!’
Duhrn left, feeling giddy. What a discovery! Project Pure Wolf was indeed the quintessential Wunderwaffen!
Right outside the lab door, he stopped dead. In the white light from the electric camp illumination, blood shone bright red running down the length of ten stout poles driven into the ground. Each one was crowned with the spitted head of a Hexapo trooper – his entire escort.
He whirled, only to find von Strasser standing in the door behind him, smiling lewdly. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he realised what had happened.
‘Günther, I forgot to tell you’ the scientist mocked him. ‘We’ve already found two volunteers, and both were successfully treated. I think you’ve met them already – isn’t it amazing what you can hide with a razor and a pair of gloves? But allow me to formally introduce them to you; Günther Duhrn, meet the Krupp sisters. Krupp sisters… dinner is served!’
They had been hiding behind the corners of the building. They we’re monstrous. As they pounced, he could not repress a panicked shriek.
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Oh, I think von Strasser has made a bit of a mistake.
I wasn't expecting the She-wolves of the SS to show up. My compliments on incorporating every last bit of pulp awesomeness (except the Rocketeer! ) you could find into your story.
Have the Germans gotten license agreements for the M1 rifle, or just the carbine?
I wasn't expecting the She-wolves of the SS to show up. My compliments on incorporating every last bit of pulp awesomeness (except the Rocketeer!
) you could find into your story.Have the Germans gotten license agreements for the M1 rifle, or just the carbine?
Great update!
However forum rules acctually forbid all indications of Concentration Camps, just to let you know...
However forum rules acctually forbid all indications of Concentration Camps, just to let you know...
Agreed. Panicked shriek or not, I feel confident Duhrn will show to be much more powerful than the weretarts...
My mistake. Because the Germans called their standard service rifle "karabine 98k" (even though it was a full length rifle) I mistakenly called the M1 also a carbine.
The Germans, with their tradition of accurate, long range rifle fire would not have been satisfied with just the M1 Carbine. It's the M1 RIFLE they're license-building (re-chambered for the German 7,92x57mm Mauser round) and even that is not going to be accurate enough for the German tastes, allthough they'll love getting semi-automatic.
I'm pretty certain this rule relates to Death Camps. Not only is this not a death camp, there aren't any in existance as the Final Solution has not been adopted yet (the Wansee conference, if it will happen as historically, is not due for another 18 months or so).
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Point the first:
The M1 carbine and M1 rifle were in many ways completely different firearms that just happened to share a designation. They are not chambered for the same ammunition; the .30 carbine round looks a lot like a pistol round, whereas the Garand rifle fires the .30-06, which is a Spitzer-pointed rifle round.
Frankly, there's no obvious reason why the Germans would be interested in the M1 carbine design, even if it had gotten through the procurement cycle yet.
Point the second:
The Germans would probably have classified the Garand as a gewehr.
After World War One, the Germans developed a variant on the old Model 1898 Mauser that was about the same size. For Versailles-compliance reasons, they called it a carbine, even though it had a barrel just as long as the old rifle. The 98k used during World War Two was a descendant of this "carbine." And in a sense it was, because it had a shorter barrel than its ancestor (and, by extension, the old WWI Mauser rifle).
Point the third:
What happens when a werewolf gets hit by the Cane of Kithai?
The M1 carbine and M1 rifle were in many ways completely different firearms that just happened to share a designation. They are not chambered for the same ammunition; the .30 carbine round looks a lot like a pistol round, whereas the Garand rifle fires the .30-06, which is a Spitzer-pointed rifle round.
Frankly, there's no obvious reason why the Germans would be interested in the M1 carbine design, even if it had gotten through the procurement cycle yet.
Point the second:
The Germans would probably have classified the Garand as a gewehr.
After World War One, the Germans developed a variant on the old Model 1898 Mauser that was about the same size. For Versailles-compliance reasons, they called it a carbine, even though it had a barrel just as long as the old rifle. The 98k used during World War Two was a descendant of this "carbine." And in a sense it was, because it had a shorter barrel than its ancestor (and, by extension, the old WWI Mauser rifle).
Point the third:
What happens when a werewolf gets hit by the Cane of Kithai?
I'd actually expect the Garand's higher muzzle velocity to provide better accuracy than the Kar98k, but I'm not sure how the wider 7.72mm bullet would affect that...
Either way, I can't imagine the German infantyman will be terribly pleased with adding an extra kilo or two to their rifle's weight...
Well that was certainly unexpected. I'm a little disappointed in Duhrn for letting himself get caught off guard like that; after all he's done and been through you'd think he'd have learned a little better. But I guess arrogance can account for that.
The Lupine Krupp sisters must be pretty horrific looking if they make Duhrn scream.
The Lupine Krupp sisters must be pretty horrific looking if they make Duhrn scream.
I suspect that was more of a "startled" scream than a horrified scream.
As in "AAAH I am falling down the stairs," not "AAAH I am seeing something man ought not wot of"
Duhrn may be a mighty sorceror who has done and dared what no sane man could imagine doing and daring, but I bet he's still got a startle reflex like anybody else.
As in "AAAH I am falling down the stairs," not "AAAH I am seeing something man ought not wot of"
Duhrn may be a mighty sorceror who has done and dared what no sane man could imagine doing and daring, but I bet he's still got a startle reflex like anybody else.
Wouldn't having a bunch of Polish werewolves be a bit dangerous? How can they be kept loyal, and not out to seek revenge?