Alptraum (Nightmare)

[TekcoR]

[TekcoR]

Table of Contents

Character Biography

Introduction

Chapter 1
Leaflet of Information - Making Due - A World Asunder - Spared at First - Out of Sight

Chapter 2
Inevitable No More - A Promise Made - A High Price - A Spirit in Distress

Chapter 3
A Destructive Awakening - Magnificent Charade - Wayward Relief - A Chance to Be Taken

Chapter 4
Orders from the Rear - An Ordered Affair - Into the Unknown - For Your Information - You Will Need This

[TekcoR]

Tristan Schnack:

Date of Birth: 25 January 1901 in Norddeich, Germany
Father: Elijah Schnack (12 April 1868 - 3 September 1943)
Mother: Eva Schnack (19 April 1868 - 3 September 1943)
Siblings: Anton (14 January 1890 - 8 November 1918); Josef (12 May 1895)

Wife: Christina Schnack (married 15 April 1920)
Children: Philipp; Alessandra; Sebastian

Rank: Reichsführer-SS (August 14th, 1944 - Present)

Philipp Schnack:

Date of Birth: 4 July 1923 in Norddeich, Germany

Rank: First Lieutenant
Unit: 78. Infanterie-Division
Location: Copenhagen, Denmark

Alessandra Schnack

Date of Birth: 14 July 1925 in Norddeich, Germany

Sebastian Schnack

Date of Birth: 29 July 1926 in Norddeich, Germany

Rank: First Lieutenant
Unit: Panzer-Brigade 'Berlin'
Location: Berlin, Germany

Rhiley Schnack:

Date of Birth: 31 May 1923 in Norddeich, Germany
Father: Josef Schnack
Mother: N/A

Rank: Obersturmführer (First Lieutenant)
Location: Tristan's side

Erwin Daniel Preissner:

Date of Birth: 16 August 1903
Location: Germany

Branch: Geheime Staatspolizei - Department E
Rank: Oberst

[TekcoR]

Alptraum (Nightmare)
An Alternative History Affair
By TekcoR

Introduction


Adolf Hitler before the Reichstag, April 2nd, 1942.

Spring was coming to Paris, and thus far it had proved itself to be all I had heard about. The city was blooming with life, and had seemed ready to blossom away out of the occupational shell it had endured over the winter months. The trees were beginning to blossom and would soon create the photographically perfect moment down the cities winding streets and endless cafes. I sought to enjoy this time in Paris and was looking forward to bringing my dearest wife Christina from home for a romantic two weeks in the occupied city. Though I am sure she would be dissatisfied with the length of the train ride from our resort-like town off the North Sea, she would find the city to her delight.

I happened to be day dreaming of walking along the shores of the Seine River when an interruption occurred from the public address system outside of the café. “Attention, attention. Breaking news from Berlin, the Führer Adolf Hitler has a special announcement to all people.” Though the announcement threw me out of my dream of holding hands with my dearest, I quickly began to daze off again. Over the several months of occupation of the French capital, we had become accustomed to announcements and newscasts from the propaganda ministry run by Joseph Goebbels.

“Yesterday, April 1st, 1942.” the speaker first said rather raspy. “Is day that will forever live in the annuals of the Third Reich; as she was viciously and deliberately betrayed by the Bolshevik conspiracy! Yesterday, our benevolent peace loving nation was a friend to the perpetrators of the aforementioned crime.” The voice had become more than recognizable after the beginning of the second sentence.

“I along with my every good natured master of the German race had believed that the open communication with Stalin had led us to a Europe that was to be divided between our great and respectful powers. But now, after this unforgiveable behavior that has cost the life of thousands of fathers, sons, and brothers of the Reich, we find ourselves at war!,” roared a furious Hitler, who was addressing the Reichstag. I nearly dropped my cup of coffee that I had recently been served by the waiter.

“The air attack on the Baltic Fleet stationed at Konigsberg has severely damaged the port and cost thousands of Reichsmarks worth of damage. Last night, Russian forces began an invasion into Germany proper. Last night, our Hungarian allies reported movement into their territory. Last night, the Romanian oil fields were recipients of a Russian aerial bombardment. And this very morning, the Russians attempted to bomb Berlin and destroy the very building I am addressing the nation from!” The audience of the Reichstag again broke out in a shocking gasp that the microphones had picked up and carried throughout the global airwaves.

The Führer remained silent for an eternity, allowing the emotion to so cleverly build; as was his custom. “I am ashamed that that the Bolsheviks have betrayed the agreement of that has been in place the past two years. The eyes of their nefarious dictator have grown too jealous. The Soviet Union shall not be allowed to enslave the hard working people of the German race! She shall not reverse the trend of National Socialism that all people have demanded for! History has proven that the Bolshevik regime is corrupt, that she cannot withstand the might of even the puniest of nations. We, the German nation, shall teach the conspirators of the Bolshevik disease that National Socialism shall prevail! The deceits that have enslaved since the sniveling Lenin shall be erased from the world!” A thunderous applause broke out in the crowded Reichstag with flash bulbs going.

The Führer let the applause die down as he relaxed his voice from the high rapid and loud paced barrage of words. “As the Führer of the German people, it is my responsibility lead us the superior nation to the utter defeat the communist barbarians. We shall drive the Mongol hordes from our sacred land back to non-existence! We shall not stop! We must not stop! We must fight for the survival of the Fatherland! Deutschland uber Alles!” He had finished, and the audience repeated “Deutschland uber Alles!” three times while Hitler stood in an ecstatic pose.

I sat there, motionless. I thought I had seen enough war and had been horrified when war had been declared on the first day of September over a year and seven months ago. The iconic setting I found myself in this café outside of my units headquarters in Paris had lead me into a fantasy. We had all come to believe that peace could be achieved, and would be achieved in a matter of months, Britain certainly could not continue to resist the awesome inevitably of our might. Reality had quickly sunk in, any iconic walks down the Seine would have to remain in my dreams.

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[TekcoR]

Alptraum (Nightmare)
An Alternative History Affair
By TekcoR

Chapter 1
Leaflet of Information - Making Due - A World Asunder - Spared at First - Out of Sight

Leaflet of Information

Two days had passed since the disheartening revelation that the Third Reich had been betrayed by the Soviet Union. The weather in Paris did not reflect the reality that I comprehended we were facing. The sun continued to shine, the warmth of the day though was unable to lighten the moods of my comrades and me. The other day, we had been subjected to an unusual bravado by the British as they harassed the skies over the French capital. Though the raid caused minimal destruction, it had forced us into the safety of the air raid shelter at the headquarters of my unit. After the all clear notice had been given, I walked outside with the commander and noticed hundreds of leaflets scattered across the ground. Intrigued by the scene, I casually bent over to pick up one of the leaflets. Upon doing so I was shocked to see it was a copy of the Völkischer Beobachter, declaring that Hitler had fled Germany seeking asylum in the neutral Switzerland.

I instantly knew the rumor of the Führer’s departure to be untrue, he stood by us during our previous troubling times. Why would he choose to abandon us at this particular time? The British were no doubt attempting to further cause confusion amongst our ranks; which the general and I quickly repressed in the unit. Later that night, I dreamed that six months had passed and I, along with my family had decided to flee our coastal home. After a treacherous journey we had finally crossed into the bastion of freedom that Switzerland represented in occupied Europe. Days after my dreamt arrival, I happened to walk into a local beer hall and saw Hitler, along with the rest of his cronies attempting to mingle with the crowd. I awoke from my sleep and attempted to bury the thought. The thought of the Führer escaping from imminent destruction persisted in the crevices of my brain.


The next morning, April 4th, I was awoken to the sound of the radio carrying an urgent broadcast from Berlin. “...by the orders of the Führer, the city of Konigsberg has been declared a fortress city and shall be defended to the last man! Anybody sought aiding the enemy, or not following the instructions of party and military officials shall be summarily executed. All must sacrifice in the defense of the Fatherland. Deutschland uber Alles!” The use of Deutschland uber Alles was becoming common practice in the days after the betrayal by Stalin. The other day, we had received a memorandum from Field Marshal Rundstedt that all official communication we were to express the phrase “Deutschland uber Alles” until the circumstances no longer required the necessity of the words to be uttered.

I found the use of the phrase ridiculous, and I am sure many others did, especially those soldiers fighting on the eastern front. There were certain customs the party had imposed on the Heer, I guess this was just one more I would eventually become accustomed to. Over my years in service of the people, I have gone through numerous traditions. In the last days of the previous war, I had introduced to the traditions of the Empire under the former Kaiser Wilhelm II, who had passed almost ten months to the day before Stalin’s betrayal. My days in the Imperial Army were numbered after the humiliation of the Treaty of Versailles; though I was spared the embarrassment and retained my commission of second lieutenant in the newly created Reichsheer.

The Reichsheer would officially exist from January 1st, 1921 until its successor the Wehrmacht was announced on October 15th, 1935. Over the 14 years of the Reichsheer I had advanced only two ranks due to numerous constraints. Though there were strenuous constraints on our total strength, we were trained to the best of our abilities and masters of the field. I had obtained my first promotion on June 6th, 1925, five years, two months and nine days after I had been married. It would be eight years, eleven months and twenty-six days before July 2nd, 1934 when I was promoted to the rank of Captain. During those eight years, I had further expanded my family to include another son and my only daughter.

The declaration of the official creation of the Wehrmacht brought a boon of relief to my career. I had thought about resigning my commission from the army and returning home to either take up a career in politics or beginning writing about my time in service of the German people. However, a few events renewed my spirits in remaining within the armed forces. Firstly, my promotion to Captain and the increased pay and responsibilities greatly assisted in renewing my morale. Secondly, I would be responsible for assisting in the training of new recruits. Though we were bound by the Treaty of Versailles to a standing army of 100,00 the Führer reintroduced conscription on March 16th, 1935; which would allow us to train an additional number of conscripts numbering a hundred thousand or so a year.

I was assigned to training a contingent of new recruits, about the traditions of the superiority of German arms. Most of the recruits had been unaccustomed to the formality of the life in service; thus it was my responsibility, along with my sergeants to make excellent soldiers out of them. We stressed tradition. It took time for the men to respect and embrace the tradition. I guess the same could be said about the new “Deutschland uber Alles” phrase.

Making Due

I comfortably sitting down in a wooden chair of the air raid shelter of the building we had occupied since our arrival in Paris months ago. At the table was an empty plate; which the servants had so kindly brought – though they did not have much choice but to accept our occupation of both the house and their country. A small radio that I had acquired through the use of Reichsmarks was also on the table. I had found this radio helpful thus far, the dispatches back from Berlin or higher up had proven ineffectual in me to do my job as both the intelligence and logistics officer of the 6 Infantry Division. Under normal circumstances, I should have received my replacement by now – intelligence was not my specialty; however given the circumstances I understood why I would most likely be carrying out dual responsibilities for an unforeseen duration.

I rather enjoyed the privileges of handling the intelligence for the unit. On the radio played the British Broadcasting Corporation broadcast about how our forces were being forced to retreat across the eastern front. Nominally, the listening to the BBC would be considered a criminal offense; however General Horst Grossman and I agreed that information obtained through the broadcasts was beneficial but the fact should be kept between us. Thus almost every night I would find a remote place within headquarters and begin listening to the broadcasts.

At times I would doze off from listening to the information that was being broadcast throughout occupied Europe. I often dreamt of returning to my original specialty in training; which I had done until a year before the start of the war. I had been given a chance within the unit, Lieutenant General Arnold Freiherr von Biegeleben at the time master the art of logistics. Even though I had excelled at training of new recruits, I had grown tired of the work and sought change. Thus when the offer was made, I pounced and quickly accumulated to my new responsibilities. Training and logistics are rather similar in the sense that they both require an enormous amount of attention to detail, dedication and the means to get the jobs done.

Often times, especially once the war began, it was often difficult to get the required amount of supplies for the unit. Most days during the invasion of Poland the unit was not fully supplied, but we moved on. The Polish countryside did not offer a lot of advantages for a logistics officer to acquire the necessary supplies for his unit. The Low Countries and France were the opposite. I recall on one day, shortly before the official announcement of the Vichy regime, a young lieutenant that I had trained had sent a runner back to headquarters requesting the presence of a senior officer. General Biegeleben and I, along with the runner who drove us in the staff Kübelwagen came across a large French villa.

We had come across at least a dozen or so large residences in our march through the country, but all had been ransacked or emptied before our arrival. This villa was different. This villa is something we had been waiting for, something that would make the war easier for us. There was a large winery below the main level that the General and I had thoroughly inspected and deemed as spoils for the division alone. The collection was marvelous and a prize that would suit us well. The estate became our temporary headquarters until we were given a new assignment; that would see us move to Paris. During our travels from the estate to Paris, the wine accompanied us; the twenty-one crates in all were labeled as personal property.

The wine was quite important, for whenever a shortage of supplies was affecting the unit – and a normal request to relieve the situation would not due – I would personally walk to either the corps quartermaster or army quartermaster and hand either one or two bottles depending on the request of the finest red wine. The gestures were always enough of a bribe to make sure the unit would stay supplied during the months of occupation. However, the situation was dramatically reversed within mere days of the Soviet betrayal. On the 13th of April, I had walked over to the corps quartermaster, and requested several hundred summer uniforms; only to be flatly rejected – there were no uniforms to spare all troops would have to make do. I even offered to up the reward to four bottles of wine, only for the request to still be rejected. The power of the Rothschild’s wine had met its match.

A World Asunder

Two weeks have passed since the Soviet betrayal, today is my anniversary. I have been married for twenty-two years at this point, and I have missed several anniversaries away from home. The most notable anniversaries that I have missed were all because of war related issues. In 1936, at the height of the re-occupation of the Rhineland; then in 1938 during the Anschluss Osterreich we are on high alert. Mere months later, in the later parts of March into April 1939, there was the rump of Czechoslovakia that was occupied. The anniversary of 1940 – marking the twentieth year of marriage – was quite an impromptu event. The unit was stationed about eighty miles away from Norddeich. I snuck out of headquarters earlier in the day and arrived at Norddeich around nine in the night. I returned early in the morning, about seven if I recall, and nobody had suspected anything.

There was no celebration in 1941, I was simply too far away as the unit was occupying outside of the French city of Bordeaux; though I had sent a small crate of wine dated 1920 back home. Returning to tonight, the twenty-second anniversary, there was no possibility of sneaking away to Norddeich – though Paris was a lot closer than Bordeaux. Tonight, I would dream of being either in Norddeich, or sharing a romantic boat ride down the Seine with Christina. However; there was much that needed to be done before the necessity of sleep could be performed. I flicked the radio switch on, and began tuning the dials to reach the correct frequency to receive the BBC.

On the table along with the radio, I had collected all the intelligence I could muster about the overall situation on the Eastern Front. Three days prior, we had received a memorandum from Oberkommando der Wehrmacht in Berlin, stating that divisions would begin being transferred from the west to help repel the Soviets back and immediately begin an offensive to end the Bolshevik conspiracy. I was suspicious about the reports that the advances of the Soviets were being held with ease; thus my reliance on the BBC to help obtain information. I knew the BBC would be propaganda from the Allied side of events; however I would compare the information garnered from both our news and the enemies and somewhere in between would be the truth.

The lovely instrumental song that was being broadcast ended and the announcer came on. “Good evening a citizen of occupied Europe, here are tonight’s headlines. German soldiers have been withdrawn from the countries of Romania and Hungary,” I hastily wrote down this tidbit of the withdrawal. The last mention I had was that our divisions were assisting our allies in repelling the Soviet invasion.

“In other news, King George VI has awarded Malta the George Cross for her heroism and devotion to defeating the Axis nations.” I scribbled down a little cruel joke about the monarchy, and continued listening to the broadcast.

“To all our German listeners out there, who are so bravely listening to this station, this tidbit will interest you the most. Our sources within the city of Berlin have identified that your precious Führer, Adolf Hitler, has been proclaimed the Supreme Judge of the German People, but has not been seen in the streets of the capital since the Soviet invasion. The Führer has abandoned you. Do not resist, and the armies of the arsenals of democracy shall soon be upon the shores to liberate you from tyranny.” I frantically wrote down the information that Hitler had not been seen for days. I had trust in the Führer, he had seen us through all previously difficult times during his tenure of power; there was no doubt that he could not once more muster the will of the nation to overcome this challenge.

The broadcast ended ten minutes later, with no interesting news. I turned off the radio, adjusted the knobs before stashing it away under the relative safety of the bed I had been provided. Before I could sleep, I had to dress down from my uniform; after which I laid underneath one layer of covers of the bed. I quietly began humming a sweet lullaby that Christina had used with the children. Before I knew it, I was asleep.

Spared At First

Three weeks have passed since the Soviet betrayal, and I find myself along with the 6 Infantry Division remaining in the vicinity of Paris for awhile. From what I have gathered, there were a total of seventy-eight divisions occupying various sections stretching from the Netherlands down to the Spanish border. In the kilometers surrounding Paris, there were five other divisions lying in different states of readiness. Slowly these divisions where transferred from the Western Front to the Eastern Front. I never learned their final destinations, but I had a hunch that they were not being sent to assist our Hungarian and Romanian allies.

I had heard about the Eastern Front, mostly from the near daily communication broadcasts by the agents of Goebbels. Apparently, though we as a nation of soldiers were caught off guard and unprepared, we had halted the Soviet invasion with minimal ground loss. What was more alarming, and always increased my suspicions was the lack of news regarding the situation our Allied nations found themselves in. I had studied the possible situation on the Eastern Front and realized that while we could hold our territory including occupied Poland, if the Soviets were not halted in the Balkans, our underbelly would be exposed. I had made note of my concerns to General Grossman, who assured that the Führer and Oberkommando der Wehrmacht were aware of the situation. Satisfied by the response, I let my concerns simmer down before becoming nearly extinct.

Paris had slowly regained a new sense of balance after the Soviet invasion. The citizens of the city had become accustomed to seeing soldiers on nearly every corner of the streets. I was accustomed to the same reality, often having to give the necessary salutes an uncountable numbers of times a day when I ventured out onto the streets. As the days went by into weeks, and units were transferred to the Eastern Front, the streets became less grey and more vibrant as citizens returned to the streets. I always had thought of Paris as a populated city, but still a lot of residents would not venture out with our soldiers parading around their city.

About three days after my concerns were addressed; I received a letter handed to me directly by General Grossman. Initially I thought he had approached me to inform that the unit was being transferred to the east. I opened the letter and read it. My concerns had been received and I was personally to address Generalfeldmarschall Keitel and his Chief of Staff Alfred Jodl in Berlin. I would travel by train to Berlin, in five days time, and meet with the commanders and possibly the Führer himself.

I was hesitant to leave the safety of Paris, yet I had a responsibility to follow through with. There were a few things I would address before I left, mostly writing my own letters to family members. I longed for Christina to come visit me in Berlin if possible, even if it would only be for a day. I wrote to my sons, inquiring their locations and relative safety. I wrote to my daughter, inquiring about her studies. In the end, I wrote nine letters, the others my parents, and my eldest surviving brother. I expressed the overwhelming yearning to return home to Norddeich, yet it would be another day before I could.

Out of Sight

The train from Paris to Berlin was quite pleasurable, with only slight discomfort caused by the frequent stops at the numerous stations of small towns and cities. I hadn’t been to Berlin in quite a few years, since 1938 if I remembered right. I was in Berlin for a conference addressing logistic concerns using modern vehicles to support divisional needs. I was just one of two hundred gathered officers for the conference, but I did get the chance to converse with both Heinz Guderian and Erwin Rommel. However brief the meeting was, both generals lavished praises to the family name that I bore.

Berlin had changed in some ways since I had last visited; though what change had occurred was noticeable. Almost all the buildings had received some additional security measures, namely in the form of black paint covering the windows – blacking out the city at night as much as possible. There was quite a noticeable change to the skyline; as three enormous Flak towers had been constructed forming a triangle of dangerous anti-aircraft fire for Allied war planes. Even with these massive towers of concrete protecting Berlin, I noticed a few buildings had received damage from Allied bombers. The train to Berlin was stocked with a local paper that advised the Soviets had attempted their first air raid over the city; which had ended with twenty percent of their force being shot down by our experienced pilots.

There were a total of three newspapers that I had read through the train ride from the city. I paid extravagant detail to the papers, I was interested in learning as much as my brain could consume. Before I left again, I had heard another BBC broadcast that again mentioned that rumored the Führer had been seeking shelter in a bunker below the streets of Berlin. I scoured the papers, and did not find any mention of any public appearances of the Führer throughout the city, or any other point of the Reich, even his private retreat of Berghof went unmentioned. I had a growing suspicion that the Führer had indeed decided to abandon us in a great time of need. I was reminded of a quote I once read from Alexandre Dumas: “A person who doubts himself is like a man who would enlist in the ranks of his enemies and bear arms against himself. He makes his failure certain by himself being the first person to be convinced of it.”

I very much thought that the Führer fit the description that Dumas had described. The absence of the Hitler, who has driven the resurrection of the beleaguered nation, is of dire importance – without him the presence and his charismatic display, I believe the war shall be lost as the public will lose interest. Therein lies the problem; I personally have not met the Führer, but have heard from direct sources that his temper rages from calm to tyrannical within seconds. He is unwillingly to listen to his military staff, for they had doubted him in the nation’s most trying times – Czechoslovakia, Poland, the Low Countries and France – all in which Hitler proved triumphant.

To the point of my visit to Berlin, I intended to immediately head towards to the offices of Generalfeldmarschall Keitel, and deliver additional notations I made regarding the Eastern Front. However, at the train station I was greeted by his a young lieutenant, who advised that the meeting had to be cancelled as the Führer had requested a meeting with both Keitel and Jodl, who would be busy all day. At the time I attempted to inquire what the meeting was about, but the young lieutenant would disclose the information. After handing over my notes, the man advised me that a train would begin departing to Paris within three hours, and I was to return to my unit. I left the Reich’s capital with a sour taste.

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[TekcoR]

Alptraum (Nightmare)
An Alternative History Affair
By TekcoR

Chapter 2
Inevitable No More - A Promise Made - A High Price - A Spirit in Distress

Inevitable No More

I returned to Paris still with the sourness of disappointment from the debacle of Berlin. I do not believe the high command or the Führer were certainly aware of the full extent of the danger that was being flirted with. Yet, there was nothing I could do to persuade them otherwise. Orders were orders, and I returned back to my units headquarters amidst a flurry of activity. During my brief departure of two days times, orders had been received that the unit was to begin preparing to depart for the Eastern Front. The inevitable had come; we were to be sent to the meat grinder.

The term meat grinder had become common from accounts I heard from soldiers who had friends or family serving on the front. The Soviets were throwing “everything they could” against the stout resistance and prepared defensive positions we had; resulting in deaths of hundreds to thousands of their soldiers in the opening salvo of a battle. The accounts of men running across open fields against defensive positions to certain death reminded me of the accounts Anton had mailed back to me during his time at Verdun. He described how the French high ranking officers willingly cast their men into the slaughter in hopes of stemming the ever-closing tide of their advance around the fortress. In the long run, the tactic had worked but the repercussions were tens of thousands dead, wounded, missing or captured on top of a mutiny of the French army the proceeding year.

The young men, boys really, that were in the units were eager to show the Soviet bastards that the Fatherland was superior and would repel the invaders without question. These men claim to be hardened veterans; which no doubt some of them are; but the resistance we faced in Poland, the Low Countries and France will not be equal to what I expect from the Soviets. Only a handful of the men within the division know what it is like to watch a brother in arms literally die within your finger tips. It is a horrific experience; one that quickly dashes the youthful vigor and enchanting thoughts of war and victory.

I am often reminded of General Sherman – who I have read much about – and his view on war. The inspiring man once said: “I am tired and sick of war. Its glory is all moonshine. It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, for vengeance, for desolation. War is hell.” There is no doubt that if Sherman had seen the horrors of that was brought upon by the Great War; he would be horrified at what war has become. I am frightened to imagine what he might even say about this second war, for to me it is more deadly and encompassing than the first. Though I view war as a necessary evil – one that has twice made its presence known twice in my life – it is a duty that I have sworn to uphold.

There is an inkling of fear that the Eastern Front shall be the downfall of not only the Reich, but I will be included in the final tally. Ever since the beginning of hostilities an aura of invincibility has been increasing to almost unimaginable levels; we have not been shelled at all here at division headquarters. I know that the death of me will cause enormous strain upon my family. It is with a sad heart that I begin preparing my meager belongings for another train ride to the east.

A Promise Made

I had made arrangements for the remaining seven crates of wine to be transported along with the division. The remainder of the loot was for divisional use only, and did not include the crate and a half I had tagged for my personal use, along with the remaining three crates that were property of the commanding officer, Grossmann. What the general had been using his stash for, I do not know. I had been saving mine and using the divisions sparingly – I had a hunch that eventually we would need to use it when as a bargaining chip. As previously mentioned, the hunch was right – I had read a lot about supply issues on the Eastern Front – and had suspected that was our eventual destination.

The room that I often used to listen to the BBC broadcasts was quite bare now – though I always thought of it as empty even when divisional maps and charts were hoisted on the walls. What was left in the room was the wooden table, the chair and that was it, there was nothing else. I entered the room and placed my briefcase on the table before pulling the chair out and sitting in it. I unlocked the briefcase and began pulling out some documents I wished to finish reviewing before the departure.

“Colonel,” said a young sounding voice at the entrance to the room of the air raid shelter.

I looked up at him, judging him to be no older than my eldest son. “Yes, sergeant, what can I do for you?”

He took his left arm from his side, and in his hand he was holding an envelope. “Mail sir,” he finished while he approached me and extended his arm to me.

I extended my arm out to receive the mail and smiled at him. “Thank you so---sergeant.” There was a benefit of rank; the young man did not correct my slip up. I eagerly but carefully opened the envelope, and pulled out a letter that I skimmed and noted its length.

“Dearest brother,” it began; which indicated to me that it was clearly from my sole remaining brother, who had also served during the previous war but found himself incapacitated to actively serve now. “Norddeich has drastically changed since your last visit. Once a week I have a meeting with the commanding officer of the Kriegsmarine detachment. The coast has been militarized, with minor amount of defensive works prepared against any possible incursion – however slight of a reality that it might occur. Father says the same events happened while we were away during the first war.” I continued reading on as he went on for another three sentences about the coastal preparations. I remember when the then High Seas Fleet secured the coast in 1914; I had remained home until I came of age to fight.

I followed the words that continued the small talk about the contributions that he had been contributing to the cause. I had briefly heard on my trip to Berlin that the civilian population was strongly urged to donate all that they could spare to assist in victory against the Soviet betrayers. The contributions that Josef had lead while noteworthy, I knew were not the main intent of the letter. I continued to reading, looking for the purpose.

At last, I found it. “Brother, I am asking a favor of you. You have risen to a respectable rank and I am need of your assistance. My dearest and only Rhiley completed his training two months before the betrayal and sent as a replacement to the 73 Infantry Division, stationed in the vicinity of Cherbourg, France. I understand that France is relatively safe for a war zone, but what has caused my concern is that five days ago he wrote that his unit was being transferred to the East. I understand the risks of war, and accept the consequences no matter how hard they may be to bear, but his mother will have a difficult time. Our mother never handed the passing of Anton well. If you can do anything, please do so. Please advise of any actions that you can take.”

I re-read the portion of the letter requesting for assistance. I had received an infinite number of correspondences from worrisome parents about their sons’ safety in the face of danger. I often wished to respond to with a less used quote from General Sherman which read: “Every attempt to make war easy and safe will result in humiliation and disaster.” However, those words would never comfort a mother. Instead I carried with me pre-written letters that expressed that their child would be taken care of in the face of danger, that if he followed the orders from the chain of command he would return home. This generally settled the matter, and such letters were only received shortly after green replacements arrived.

I took out a pen and paper and began to write back to my brother. After completing the address to send the response to, I paused. Minutes passed as I spent the time in deep thought. “It just might work,” I said to myself silently before saying it out loud.

A High Price

I didn’t finish writing the letter, instead I put the contents of the paper and pen back into my briefcase before locking it. I walked up the steps from the air shelter and reached the main level of the building. From there I looked around for General Grossman, I had a request to make. I knew it would be highly unlikely of a procedure, given that we would soon be boarding trains for the length ride east. However, I had to try. My duty as a person in position, and as a brother, required me to try. If denied, the attempt had been made.

Grossman was quite understanding of the whole situation and personally saw me off to the Kübelwagen. Before departing the air room shelter, I had carefully traced the way to Cherbourg on the map of France I always carried either in my breast pocket or the briefcase, its location depending on the day. I had left the headquarters without an aide, believing the situation would better suit me once I arrived at Cherbourg. Though I was without an aide, I get assistance in having a special package placed within the rear seat of the Kübelwagen. I hoped that this gift would be enough, though rather costly, to secure my intended objectives.

I am sure I was violating a series of protocols and regulations; yet there was no regretful feeling within my soul. As I drove through the streets of Paris, then the road leading to Cherbourg, which would take me south of Rouen, through Caen and then finally arriving at Cherbourg. I estimated the entire drive, along with stops for refueling would take me at the minimum six hours, at the maximum eight hours. I carried with me a set of orders that I had written out, without prior approval or consent from any commanding officer. The order looked official; enough to get me to the commanding officer, General von Bünau if I recalled correctly. I didn’t care to think what would transpire if I were to be caught with an illegal order; the consequences were pretty well known.

The drive to Cherbourg was quite a trip. I had been forced to a halt four times, not by sentries or checkpoints but by the frightening sound of pistons above. Whenever I heard the unforgettable sound, I quick find the closet safe spot, bring the Kübelwagen to a stop; and get out of the vehicle and protect myself. Every time I waited about five to ten minutes, the planes passing by with no additional flybys. I often forgot to look at the wings of the planes; if they were friendly the simplified Iron Cross would be visible.

I arrived outside of Cherbourg, and down the road there was a checkpoint manned by a half dozen soldiers. They looked to be idling around; which would play to my benefit. I approached the checkpoint, decreasing the Kübelwagens speed as I neared the roadblock. As I got closed, I noticed the soldiers had seen me, and began to hastily react in a non-threatening manner. There was two bright reflections that happened once or twice from the direction of the checkpoint; clearly indicating the use of binoculars.

“Good evening, Colonel,” said one of the soldiers as I halted a foot from the roadblock.

I turned my head to the left to address him. “Good evening, sergeant. I am on orders from General Grossman,” I replied while pulling out the orders from my breast pocket.

The sergeant appeared older than the others around him; though I reckoned him only to be a handful years older. He nodded as the finished reading the orders. “Lift the gate,” he said motioning towards he two nearby soldiers. “Have a good day, Colonel.”

“Thank you sergeant,” I said with a smile while patiently waiting for the gate to be lifted. It took the two soldiers about thirty seconds to lift the wooden roadblock and get out of my path before I began to accelerate.

“I understand you are on orders to find a suitable assistant, Colonel,” said the commanding officer, General Rudolf von Bünau. He paced behind his desk, while I patiently stood at attention in front of it. “Why is it that you come to Cherbourg to find an aide? Are there not enough candidates within your division? Speak openly, Lieutenant Colonel Schnack,” he finished with emphasis on the rank.

I thought I had prepared for this. I had expected a little resistance; but it seems the general was not willing to play even that game. “Well, sir, I am searching for a particular type of person to suit the intricate duties that being an intelligence officer’s aide requires. I have a particular person in mind, and last I have heard he is under your gracious command.”

He nodded. “What is the name of this particular person?”

“Rhiley Selig Schnack,” I replied trying to hide emotions.

“Ah,” he said, picking up on the subtly within my voice. “What kind of relationship does the young, weakly Obergefreiter (Corporal), have with you? Is he your son? If so he has not performed particularly well thus far.”

I nodded, understanding the game that was to be played. “I understand the Generals concerns about the suitability and character of my nephew. I have received a request from his father, who is also deeply concerned about the manliness of his son. I as a loyal brother and uncle am here to personally oversee my nephew’s transformation into one of the finest soldiers for National Socialism.”
“I see. Do the Colonel and the Colonel’s brother question the ability of my command to transform the frightful corporal into a great soldier?” He came to a halt behind his desk, his eyes staring directly into mine.

“No sir. The General will be greatly rewarded for allowing the corporal to be transferred.”

The General smiled. “What kind of reward is being offered?”

“I have with me twelve of the finest bottles of wine from the Rothschild estate, courtesy of their generosity to the Third Reich.”

His eyes lit up even brighter. “Colonel Schnack, you have yourself a deal.”

“Thank you, General.”

A Spirit in Distress

I had left the General’s office and headed back towards the Kübelwagen to wait for my nephew; a runner was headed to the barracks to advise him to grab his belongings. Though I had spent a high price from my personal stash, I was surprised that the general did not ask for more. The spread of a black market had become prevalent again; but at this time it was not overly abused or expensive. However; with the transfer to the eastern front pending, there would be no time to restock the divisions and my personal bargaining chips. The likelihood of confiscating property and valuables from the East would have serious consequences; as any chance we would have to resupply would be from previously Soviet occupied land. Confiscating supplies from an already terrorized German populace would be a tragedy beyond proportion to not only the severely affected, but to the nation as a whole. We are better than the Soviets, and we must act and show it.

From the distance I could see a young man in a field gray uniform, placing his cap on with his left hand while carrying two bags, one over his shoulder and the other held in his right arm. I lit up when I saw him; the last time I had seen my nephew the weekend before the invasion of Poland began. I had been slouching against the driver’s side of the Kübelwagen and brought myself to an upright position as he approached ten meters away. The look of innocence still radiated from his face, he and my son Sebastian shared the description of youthful optimism.

I began walking over towards my nephew and in a few steps we closed the distance. “Let me help you with the bags,” I began, reaching out for the one he carried in his hand.

He stopped for a second and looked into my eyes. A thousand words were exchanged with that brief moment. I saw a man who was crying for assistance, as he had been through numerous experiences he was unaccustomed to. The pressure of those experiences was weighing him down, his eyes seemed sullen, but deep within it looked as if the glimmer of hope was waiting for its opportunity to be revealed.

“I got it, Colonel,” he said before resuming his walk to the Kübelwagen, placing his belongings in the rear seats. His words had paralyzed me where I stood. A wider range of emotions surged through my mind. I began calculating scenarios that may have caused the response my greeting triggered. I eventually settled upon the conclusion that the command structure within his division was to blame. The words of General Rudolf von Bünau were unacceptable at best, and beyond belief to the way I had been accustomed to raising soldiers.

I had seen first hand fellow officers and instructors physically threatening then watching the “tough” soldiers following their orders to initiate the condemned into the brotherhood of being a man. The use of these tactics, forced beatings and toughening a person up to be a man is disgusting and barbaric. There is no sense of a true brotherhood established if one bests the other through abuse. We are in a fight for our lives, and we must establish a cohesive morale suitable to survive the trying times we find ourselves in. If our soldiers who fight to defend the collective German people from harm are more afraid of the people who they are to defend and follow orders from, then we have failed.

I am not completely against the use of physical roughness to strengthen a person’s ability; however it must be done in an appropriate and meaningful manner that is used to establish the necessities of being a soldier in arms. When physical roughness is used correctly, it is a positive experience. Activities that may demand physical roughness is properly demonstrating the utmost importance to ones tools; equipment. I am of the belief the second most important piece of equipment in soldiers arsenal is their entrenching tools. A rifle is as important to ones protection as the foxhole. Without respect to either basics of combat, ones life is for the taking.

I am share different views than the majority of trainers; however I believe that it is of the utmost importance to nurture a person into the life of a soldier through careful and calculated stewardship. Brutal beatings and vicious verbal tirades do not prevail. The intent of training is to make the soldier be proud of the tradition and wanting to continue the tradition by being an active participant. The use of methods other than the one I have subscribed to, leads to becoming an inactive participant. I can see it within Rhiley’s eyes that he has almost completely given up hope – he, along with thousands of others have become inactive participants.

Return to the Table of Contents

[Kurt_Steiner]

Things look very grim indeed.

[TekcoR]

Alptraum (Nightmare)
An Alternative History Affair
By TekcoR

Chapter 4
Orders from the Rear - An Ordered Affair - Into the Unknown - For Your Information - You Will Need This

Orders from the Rear

I desired to open the letter after we boarded the plane, which had an insignia on the tail that I had never seen before; however I kept meeting resistance. I insisted on stopping by headquarters, but Preissner assured me everything had been arranged, and that the situation along with the calling to Berlin was of utter importance. Before I was even properly seated, I felt the plane moving down the runway, swaying ever so slightly to avoid shells that had penetrated the surface since landing. I glanced over at Rhiley, though awake he looked as if he were about to fall into a slumber. I waited a few minutes until he had fallen off into the state of sleep.

“Preissner, I know you too well, and you know this. I know there is an alternate reason for your visit. We are both trained in our fields too well to know that you were just randomly visiting Warsaw and happened to find me sitting upon the banks of the river.” I watched his face, as it tightened up, his smile becoming serious.

Colonel Erwin Daniel Preissner

“Schnack,” he said. Though knowing each other for all our lives, it had become an instilled within the fabric of our existence to address each other this way, unless we could catch ourselves and conduct a more informal saying. “There is a certain level of secrecy that always must be taken, I am sure you are aware of the necessity of hiding ones activities,” he paused there and winked his left eye.

Except for the roaring engines, there was deafening silence that continued on for a handful of seconds. “Tristan,” he deliberately said before pausing for an excoriating three seconds. “I often wonder what kind of situation or predicament I would be in if it was not for you. There is no doubt though, that I would not be in the position, nor place for that matter, to properly repay the debt that I owe,” he finished, not by choice but his emotions forced the end of his speech.

On numerous occasions Erwin and I had discussed this very topic, often over dinner as old friends at a local restaurant, in plain view of all the other patrons. “Erwin, I…I understand and know the depth of your feelings regarding what has happened. I am greatly honored that you insist on honoring an assumed debt; but I cannot accept it. To the extent that I am concerned, none of us truly owes the other a life altering favor.” He had partially regained his emotions; though at times it was hard to distinguish if he was acting.

Preissner slowly removed his left hand from his forehead and looked dead into my eyes. “I know we have gone over the details a thousand times my friend. Every time though, one detail that has haunted me since that day I came to your rescue for the first time. We became friends; we shared stories and our deepest fears about the remainder of the war.” He continued his tremendous stare into my eyes; any unaccustomed person would have broken by now.

He carried on. “It is hard to express my brother, but I believe if our chance encounter never happened I would not be here. I am afraid I,” he paused. There was no acting, only the raw emotion of truth. “I am afraid I would have committed suicide, not only once near the end of the war, but throughout the difficult times afterwards. For that, I am forever grateful. Without all that has occurred between us, my three beautiful daughters would not breathe. For the life you have spared and brought into this world Tristan, I have sought to reward you.”

I didn’t quite know what to say. I never thought that I had radically changed my friends’ life, just provided suggestions and consultations when requested. “What kind of reward?” I ended up squeaking out.

His eyes death-grip-like stare ended, but now focused on the manila envelope he had given me earlier in the morning. “You can now open it my friend. I promise.”

I raised the envelope to be level near my stomach, above my lap. Carefully undoing the protective seal, I noticed only one piece of paper was in the entire package. I delayed, returning my eyes to Preissner who looked back into my eyes and gestured that this was not a game. With his second round of approval, I reached in and pulled out the paper.

‘To Lieutenant Colonel Tristan Schnack,’ I nodded, reading further down on the relatively scarcely filled piece of paper. ‘You are ordered to return to Berlin with haste and report directly to Generaloberst Friedrich Fromm, the commanding officer of the Reserve Army. Effective immediately you are now the Chief of Staff for Generaloberst Fromm.” I slowly placed the letter back into the envelope, all the while looking at Preissner. My face expressed the feeling that he did not have to repay me with such honors.

“Tristan, my friend, my savior; I have read your reports, they have not gone unnoticed to certain individual people and small but influential groups. I speak for one of these numerous groups,” he again delayed, for dramatic pause. “Tristan, you saved my life. Now you have a chance to save millions.”

I motioned him to stop, as he began repeating the last sentence about saving millions of lives.

An Ordered Affair

I had departed the plane twenty minutes prior, and was slowly being escorted by vehicle through the surprising crowded streets of Berlin. Rhiley sat to my right, amazed by the structure and layout of the city; though handfuls of buildings down each street were damaged. Sections of streets were deemed impassable because of the numerous amounts of debris or craters that riddled them. From the sides of the buildings, whether damaged or not, hung massive banners displaying the flag of the Third Reich. At the street corners pictures of the oddly missing Adolf Hitler were erected with an amusing motto: “He will protect us.”

Eerily I remembered my last visit to the capital and it appeared that the propaganda machine had not decreased; rather increased nearly tenfold. I was hesitant to ask the driver if the rumors were true, that the Führer still remained secluded within his bunker. With all buildings prominently displaying flags, and every other lamppost diligently holding two banners of a well dressed, proud looking Führer, the doubts I had been holding in the abyss began to resurface. Any right-minded person can only withstand so much disappointment and abuse before they realize the source of the problem. The thoughts of the Führer, who I felt partially responsible for the debacle occurring, could be saved. He had saved us before, and a part of me; however remote believed that with the right measures, he could himself be saved.

The driver occasionally darted around the debris and roaming patrols of soldiers as he sped us towards our final destination of Zossen. I had never been to the suburb city of the capital; which housed both the Oberkommando der Wehrmacht and Oberkommando des Heeres. Rumors had radiated from my destination that both the High Command and the Army Command lacked cooperation, and there was no clear subordination; and a lack of coordination between the two. I had witnessed such disorganization a day after arriving at Warsaw. The divisional command structure had gathered and we debated which order to follow. Keitel from OKW wished for us to prepare for offensive immediately; while Halder from OKW urged us to stand fast and wait for reinforcements.

We arrived at a well camouflaged complex; that from the air I was told by the driver resembled a village. On the ground it was no ordinary village, as it was surrounded by guard posts, and varying degrees of perimeter protection. A quick glance at my orders along with a look at my identification sped us through the gates and on towards one of the buildings; there were twelve within the complex interlinked to a centralized bunker. I had been advised earlier by Preissner, that I would be able to meet with the appropriate parties at Maybach 1; which housed OKH.

We arrived to little fanfare, nobody waiting at the door to greet us. The driver unceremoniously got out of the vehicle and opened the door for Rhiley and myself, and stated that he would park the car, and return once called for. We casually walked up the bland few concrete steps to the entrance of the building; which was no more than a heavy wooden door. As we entered the building, I was humbled by the equally bland walls, there hung a flag of the state, but everything else was being packed. Dozens of soldiers equal to Rhiley’s rank were carrying documents, paintings and other furniture, waiting for trucks to arrive. Sadly it looked like the headquarters was preparing a retreat that it had forbade units under it from committing.

I casually asked one of the soldiers where General Fromm’s headquarters was located and was pointed to the direction down the immediate hall to our left. Rhiley and I walked the three dozen and a half steps to the door of his office. When we arrived I saw a through the half opened door a man in his late middle ages sifting through papers in the drawers of the desk. I stood by the door, uncomfortable to move in unless cleared to enter his temporary chamber.

“Ah,” said the man’s voice in a deep but startling tone. “I see the young Colonel I have requested has arrived. Please, come in Colonel.”

I motioned for Rhiley to remain at the door. He nodded that he understood his assignment. With my right hand I gently pushed the door the remaining way open. As I cleared the door’s angle, Fromm motioned with his hand to close the door; which I promptly executed. I walked towards his desk, bringing myself to a halt a foot and a half before it.

“Relax, relax,” he said, looking over me. I had grown accustomed to being addressed by senior officers over the numerous years of service. However, this situation was quite different. There was no training for being plucked from the warzone and thrown behind the lines. Then about to find one’s self in the midst of having control of hundreds of thousands, to millions of others. It did not ease my nerves, even though I strained to relax them, that Fromm began pacing from edge to edge of his desk.

“We both know why you are here Colonel. With that known, I am going to cut to the chase. I am in desperate need for a man who bucks the trend, and will not make friends with the other generals under both commands,” he came to a pause before picking back up four seconds later. “Colonel, Germany needs more officers like you. As I was looking over thousands of candidates to become my new Chief of Staff, none of them had repeatedly lodged inquires and suggestions to the degree you have. Under normal circumstances, a person of your character and border-line insubordination would not be given this chance. However, we both know that these are not normal circumstances. Is that right Colonel?”

“You are correct general,” I said briefly as possible, trying to hide the fact that I nearly swallowed my Adams apple during part of his speech.

Fromm came to a complete stop, behind his desk in vertical line with me. “I am be granting you nearly absolute control of the Reserve Army,” my eyes lit up with that revelation. “However,” he said at last, there always had to be some sort of catch. “I have chosen your adjutant; he is a young Oberleutnant by the name of Frank Ethereal von Wren. Go ahead and step out Wren,” he said. As if on queue, my new adjutant stepped out from a room to the side of Fromm’s office.

Into the Shadows

Fromm graciously dismissed both von Wren and me shortly after our formal introduction; mostly to my dismay. I thought that Fromm would be more interested in further briefing me to the necessities of performing my task as Chief of Staff. Nevertheless, my new adjutant and I followed our orders and left the room general’s room. Leaning against the wall opposite of the door was Rhiley, who raised his head to look up at the distraction caused by the opening door. His facial expression summed up the meeting; over so soon.

“Carry on,” were the first words out of my mouth, before even fully out of the room. Tradition is to be honored and I generally did not require family to perform the necessary military custom due to my rank; except when another officer was present with me. I generally pre-empted their required duty.

Rhiley went back to a relaxed position, though he did not lean against the wall now. “Lieutenant von Wren, this is Obergefreiter Rhiley Schnack, the personal driver of the Chief of Staff of the Reserve Army,” I said with a smile directed towards my nephew. “Rhiley, this is Lieutenant Frank von Wren, my adjutant assigned by General Fromm.” I turned my facial expression to the one that showed he was to be shown the full military customs; in turn Rhiley acknowledged with a barely noticeable nod of his head.

The two exchanged formalities; yet I believed von Wren knew more to the relationship than I had let on. He would eventually have to be formally notified; yet I decided to let him know at another time. An awkward moment followed for a handful of seconds before von Wren politely guided us through the halls and to the entrance of his office; a bit of way from Fromm’s. From the open door of Wren’s office the view inside was nothing of spectacular magnificence, only one portrait hung from the wall, and it was an unusual photo of the Führer before he came into power. I had seen it once before; countless years prior to our meeting; but never afterwards till then. Below the photo I noticed his desk, stacked full of papers and folders; of what material I could only imagine.

“Corporal,” he said rather bluntly. “The Colonel and I have some business to attend to, there is a desk and chair right there,” he said pointing to the desk that I didn’t notice as we were lead to my adjutant’s office.

I nodded to Rhiley, who had the expression on his face that he didn’t appreciate being ordered to in that tone. It would be something that I would have to adjust with my appointed colleague. I watched intently as I saw Rhiley at first stand still for another second before he backed away and moved towards the desk. He began the motion of lowering himself onto the chair as I was lead deeper into the relatively unknown room. Less than ten steps into the office I heard the door close. I gulped. I felt goose bumps on my arms, hidden luckily by the uniform. I had been lead into offices before, and had the door closed before me. It was a feeling that I never quite became comfortable with. Generally negative things are about to happen when one is lead into another person’s office and the door closes with a magnified thunder.

For Your Information

“Sit down, Colonel,” my adjutant said seconds after leading me into the room, he stood behind his desk; which unnerved me further. I looked at him; my movements were blatant and calculated. The eloquent dance of our eye contact carried on for an enduring seven seconds before he sat down and readjusted his green eyes to look straight into mine. “Colonel,” he repeated, “There is no easy way to say this.” He let out a long sigh that revealed he spoke the truth.

He unfolded his arms in a deliberately slow movement and placed his palms down on his desk, shoulders width apart from each other. “I am involved in a group of individuals who seek to procure victory in an alternative method.” He stopped; I had a hunch that there was more to my new aide’s involvement than he initially let alone. It was fairly obvious. The air of the room was filled with the scent of nervousness. I felt slightly more in control of the situation, though still bitterly uncomfortable for I didn’t see a clear resolution.

He read my face and continued on. “I have been involved in this conversation since before the betrayal by the Soviet Union. The groups’ determination to achieve victory has been accelerated by recent events. There are members within the group that seek to carry out our discussions before they have been fully vetted out. It is quite a predicament. I find myself in a terrible situation.” He almost started crying, his palms off the desk, and half way between his face and their previous position.

I maintained my eye contact with von Wren, but did not speak. I pondered the implications, the meaning of the massive revelation that would be a valuable asset to me. I could turn in my new assistant, and be handsomely rewarded by the regime. Yet deep down, there were unresolved issues. It was no secret; I had heard countless plots and rumored attempts to remove the Führer one way or another. The fate of these people was pre-determined it seemed, within a matter of days generally, the Gestapo announced that several dissident military personnel, civilians, foreign fugitives or a combination of both or all three were arrested and never heard from again.

My mind, my years of service under the Führer instantly came to mind. I had now sworn abided and lived by the oath to him for close to seven years. The terms of service under the Führer was heavily outweighed by my oath to the former Weimar Republic; which I had seen abolished and replaced by the very man my assistant sought to do away with. I had seen a monumental head of state figure removed before when I was still a teenager fighting in the first war. I recalled the disheartening moment when I had heard about the forced abdication of Kaiser Wilhelm II.

I knew that like me, thousands of soldiers felt betrayed by the loss of the Kaiser, it was another injury to the insult that the war was being lost. I had grown up respecting the authority, the pomp and circumstance that the monarchy brought to the united Germany. Though my time under the direct service of the Kaiser’s military venture was short, mere months, I often reflected on those days when my youthful ambition got the best of me.

Though I knew the risk of removing a leader during a time of war and the consequences, I did not pursue the thought of arresting my assistant. Deep down, the feelings that I had suppressed often and with great difficulty at times were emerging with renewed vigor. I attempted to the best of my efforts to hide my feelings from my adjutant, but that was impossible. I looked him straight into the eyes.

“I am in.”

You Will Need This

An awkward silence had overcome us for a number of seconds before the uneasy moment came to an end and we resumed our conversation as if nothing had happened. “Your assistance will be greatly appreciated Herr Colonel,” he finally said. “I am confident that both of us can persuade the indifferent general to formally join the movement.”

I nodded in agreement, though slightly confused about who exactly was being discussed. Though a little bewildered by who was being referenced, I had pieced enough information together to assume that General Fromm was the target of von Wren’s sentence. When we had first met, Fromm did seem a little distraught, if not aloof of the situation.

“Colonel,” my adjutant said interrupting my mental recollection. “I believe you will need these documents.” I looked at him while he slid across a secured briefcase. “I have meticulously copied all vital pieces of information for you.”

I grabbed the briefcase, thinking how easy it would be to betray the group I had moments ago committed myself to. If I handed in the beyond credible and resolute information, how handsomely I would be rewarded for my service to the National Socialism cause. Deep down though, I no longer knew what the cause of National Socialism was. Was it a cause of ideology? Was it the cause for survival? If so, it didn’t take a political view point to see the situation and the writing on the wall. It was only a matter of time before the house of cards that the Führer had carefully erected would tumble down.

Now where did I see the conspiracy in this? It is hard to pinpoint what exactly I felt. There were a thousand emotions and thoughts racing through my brain as I ordained myself a traitor. I had begun the suspicion against the regime half-heartedly; often throwing what I described as immoral thoughts into what I hoped was a bottomless pit, where they would never re-emerge. I thought myself a noble soldier, one who followed the orders of the civilian leadership. I had obeyed under the Kaiser. I followed through the troubles of Weimar. I was uplifted by the revival brought by the Führer.

Yet for all this supportive feeling, my duty to protect Germany and its sworn leadership, I threw it away in a heartbeat when given the opportunity. I switched to more primal instincts, that of survival. I highly doubted the intentions of the absent Führer to protect the quickly crumbling Third Reich. Not much faith was placed towards his subordinates within the party and the highest echelons of the military. I had read, heard and privately discussed the failed attempts on Hitler’s life before which had been most conducted by individuals with little backing. These plans, anybody with half a parcel of intelligence could see, would ultimately all fail. Yes, Hitler may be filled in the attack, but his subordinates would remain; thus the failure of any plot to kill the Führer.

“Often in order to restore balance or integrity to what needs fixed, that very object must be completely purged and begun a new,” is a quote my grandfather and father would often say. I had heard it a thousand times, repeated it to junior officers, younger family members and other soldiers hundreds of times. Yet, I never truly understood the meaning of it until the very moment I accepted the offer into the conspiracy. In order to save what I held dearest, I would have to bring about its destruction and rebuild it. Not only must Hitler die, the appointed people, his favorites, his lackeys, would have to follow their leader’s suit.

“Excuse me sir,” interrupted my subordinate, who saw I had, at least in his mind, spaced off.

“Yes?” I asked in a semi-startled voice.

“You will need this,” he handed me an unmarked vanilla folder. I thought for a moment, a bit puzzled by what he was handing me. Hadn’t he handed me everything in the briefcase just moments ago? “…encryption key,” is all I heard from his sentence.

Return to the Table of Contents

[TekcoR]

Alptraum (Nightmare)
An Alternative History Affair
By TekcoR

Race and Reorganize

I survived. We survived. The year is now 1943. This year we are suppose to recover lost land. That’s what the Fuhrer and Gobbles says. The Soviets seem unstoppable, though we have stopped them. Only because they continue to ravage the Duce’s land – who retreated south towards Naples. I heard that the situation in France is worrisome. Vichy France is teetering on disaster as the Allies begin their liberation. We have precious few divisions to spare, but divisions are to be found and sent into Vichy France. On February 16th it is announced that ‘Fall Anton’ had begun, as Germany infantry raced across Vichy France’s lands to take defensive positions in the Alps and the Mediterranean Coast. A close friend, assigned to OB West wrote back to me to state that our infantry arrived at the defensive positions just a day or two ahead of the Russians.

I now find myself as Chief of Staff to General Friedrich Fromm, of the Reserve Army. In late December I described in detail the need to retreat from the extremities of the Reich – at this present time the garrison in Norway, which numbered 25 divisions, twenty-five vital divisions for more pressing matters. I was surprised to learn that on February 22nd, the Fuhrer ordered the complete withdrawal of Norway. With amazing haste, I saw the evacuation completed in less than a month. The divisions would be reorganized, from what I heard. The fifteen mountain divisions would be reassigned to the Eastern Front while the light infantry (Jager) divisions were assigned to various duties across the Reich.

Our defenses along the Oder River, we expected a Soviet offensive across the river in the Spring of 1943, but it never happened.

Spring would come and surprisingly there was no Soviet offensive. The Italians were still complaining about the lack of German assistance. Apparently the Duce thought we were in a position to help him. I had heard that there was a plan to help our Italian allies, but that it wouldn’t be ready until late May at the earliest. I’m sure the Soviets knew this and were prepared. On a recent inspection of the front, I witnessed hundreds of Soviet troops moving on the other side of the Oder. The Soviets most likely had three divisions for every one division we could muster.

Mountain troopers posing for a photo before the offensive into the Bavarian Alps to dislodge the Soviets.

Our offensive would begin on June 10th after a few days delay due to supply issues. Mussolini was excited from what I was told, though he was bottled up in Sicily. The offensive – which was officially to recapture the southern portions of Bavaria – would include twenty-five mountain divisions, sixty infantry divisions and ten panzer divisions; which were too utilized if a breakthrough could be achieved. However that breakout would never be realized. The Soviets were prepared for the offensive.

After several days of fighting, the panzers and their motorized infantry were withdrawn away from the fighting. I didn’t know exactly where the panzers were going, but I had credible sources that it possibly involved cooperation with the Kreigsmarine. The fighting continued for a few more weeks, before the offensive was called off on July 7th. We had suffered a near equal amount of causalities as the Soviets, but we did not necessarily have the manpower to reinforce these losses.

[TekcoR]

Alptraum (Nightmare)
An Alternative History Affair
By TekcoR

Return and Retreat

I had been suspicious of new planned offensive for awhile, ever since a request had been made by the commander of I Panzerarmee (Erich von Manstein) if enough equipment was available to replace theoretical heavy losses. I was intrigued but didn’t ask further, only replied curtly that while the reserve’s armies numbers were low, I would make his request for replacements priority. I didn’t necessarily have direct approval to do this, but Fromm’s oversight was negligible and I was free to act. On July 18th, an unexpected letter arrived from Manstein. It did not request reinforcements but simply advised that I would soon be able to visit him in Danzig.

I was a bit perplexed by this. Danzig was in Russian hands. Then it hit me. That’s where our offensive was aimed at. But Danzig lay kilometers upon kilometers beyond the Oder. How would our offensive catch the Soviets off guard and reach the city without resistance? I quickly began searching through the stack of papers on my desk – I think I recalled something. Ah yes, a request from the Kriegsmarine requesting additional reinforcements who specialized in amphibious assaults. I remember upon first reading the letter if I should burst into laughter or not reply at all. We hadn’t been training soldiers for amphibious assaults since at least 1940 before the Fuhrer called off Sea Lion. I finally scribbled a response that I would try my best to find any units I could, but I couldn’t promise any miracles.

On the morning of the July 23rd, I heard that the first shots of our daring plan began to unfold as the Tirpitz – our last remaining battleship – and several light cruisers opened up against the defenders of Danzig and Konigsberg. The Russian defenders – were called “Polish loyalists of the poorest quality, that were easily bewildered and surrendered at the first shot” had given up both cities within matters of hours. From then on the after action report mentioned the speed and precision of the Kriegsmarine transport crews, who unloaded hundreds of tanks and soldiers as if it were nothing before racing off to pick up the remaining soldiers.

The massive pocket created by the daring operation that liberated Danzig.

By the end of the month, both First (Danzig) and Second (Konigsberg) Panzerarmies had been transported to their respective cities. From there the immediate objective became to link up the two beach heads which was completed by the ending hours of August 1st. While the Second Panzerarmee secured the beach heads, the First Panzerarmee drove in general southwest direction as if headed towards Berlin. This was amazing; the Russians that had caught us off guard the previous year were they themselves being caught surprised!

By August 3rd, it was reported by SS General Hausser (1 SS Panzerarmee) that Russian forces had begun to withdraw from his front and his advance was going to begin the next day. Hausser’s objective was to link up with 1 Panzerarmee and pocket the Russian divisions stuck within West Prussia. After several hard days of fighting, German forces met on August 12th creating a pocket of Russians. The Red was trapped! Amazing! I received numerous reports that the fighting was intense as the Russians fought like savages to flee from our retribution. They were always unsuccessful.

On October 6th, I received the last report about our offensive. Two days prior, nearly thirty Russian divisions had been forced to surrender just west of Danzig. The city was to remain liberated unlike the city of Konigsberg. There was major disappointment among many of my companions within the Reserve Armee; however the reasons for abandoning the city again were the facts of life. We simply do not have the divisions required to hold the city. As quickly as our forces had reached Konigsberg, they retreated from the city back to Danzig; which was now the farthest point east in the Reich.

The elimination of the Soviets in western Prussia.

[Kurt_Steiner]

A huge success, indeed! The Red Bear must be quite surprised and hurt. Beware his anger!

[Baltasar]

Impressive victory for the Wehrmacht. Waiting for your next steps.

[KyrionMyrthar]

Interesting -- what starting point did you use for the game?

Huge victory there!

[TekcoR]

Old Table of Contents

Introduction

Disobey and Withdraw!
"My name is Tristan Schnack and I strongly believe that my days and the Reich’s are numbered." - Tristan Schnack - Chief of Staff for Reserve Army

Race and Reorganize
"I survived. We survived." - Tristian Schnack summarizing the end of 1942 into the beginning of 1943.

Return and Retreat
"I was a bit perplexed by this. Danzig was in Russian hands. Then it hit me." - Tristian Schnack before putting the pieces together about the German offensive.

Thorns in the West
"I left for what would hopefully be a great three weeks home with my family. It’s been quite awhile, over a year and a half. I’m excited yet terrified. I think I have changed quite a bit and might not be recognized by my beautiful kids." - Tristian Schnack before leaving to return home at the end of 1943.

God Damn War
“I understand Tristan,” my eldest living brother said. “God damn war,” he said before we both repeated it.

Cold Sand
"It was kind of disappointing. It very much reminded me of our situation in a bit. The Allies were throwing away thousands of men to liberate a country’s homeland. Here we are expending thousands of men to liberate parts of our country. In hindsight it seems kind of odd, but that is war." Tristan Schnack's reflection on situation as of February 1944.

Into the Bunker
“Herr Schnack,” a raspy voice said as we were leaving the room. I turned back and noticed it was the Fuhrer speaking.

The Spark
“Herr Schnack,” a deep voice said that startled me from my thought. I looked up, distraught by the fact that I thought my ruse was up.

The Wheels are in Motion
I smiled, wishing to further explore how much deeper the situation could evolve into. “What if I told you I knew of a plot to assassinate the Fuhrer?”

The Train Keeps a Rolling
“Tristan, I can assure you that I am not going to have you placed under arrest,” Papa finally said. “I am not against you. I believe that the Fuhrer has lost his mentality since the beginning of the invasion. There has been no recovery. He has continued the downfall of our great nation. I, I want to share a story with you,” he said.

Screeching to a Halt
All 82 kilograms of me was now laying flat against the floor. What the hell had just happened?

Hell on Wheels
I laid flat on my stomach against a rug, my eyes looked at the rug and a thought registered that the area I was laying on was red. Oh fuck, was I bleeding?

End of the Line
My brain returned to its original thought. I moved my eyes from their heavenly graze back to the lifeless corpse before me. His whole body was motionless. Both of his eyes were clearly visibly. One of them was nothing but a blotch of darkened skin that nearly made me vomit.

A New Destination
In memory of Hausser, I seriously had thought about seeking to join the Waffen SS. I had done something similar many decades before. Einswald had always dreamt of becoming a staff officer, and was suppose to transition into the role before his death.

Vengeance be thy Name
I put in another clip and fired off another five shots, hitting three of my targets. I reached for another clip, my third. Then my fourth and while reaching for my fifth I felt a terrible force against my helmet.

Prototype Destruction
This beast is magnificent. She is currently armed with 75mm Kwk 45 L/100, a powerful weapon capable of destroying of any Allied tank from hundreds if not a thousand meters away.

Prototype Party
“Helmut, give her all she’s got! We have traitors to chase!” - Tristan Schnack.

Prototype Evaluation
...the difference between me and the 7,000 prisoners or anybody else who seeks to save their self – I have not yet succumbed.

Honor is a Badge Few Carry
The reputation of being in service of the military of one’s nation has been established for a lengthy 167 years. However, just being in the service was not enough for the Schnack’s after 1811.

Four Eyes in the Back
This was my vehicle; well the Reich’s vehicle in my care. I was not about to get out of the vehicle for a man that I didn’t necessarily respect. After what felt like an eternity, but was in reality only thirty seconds, Himmler did find a seat in the back of the Kübelwagen and Rhiley began to drive us down the road towards my headquarters; which was roughly ten miles away behind the front.

The Black Beacon Beckons
“Herr Schnack,” he said interrupting my thoughts. I turned my head towards Himmler, and he waited before continuing on. “I have an offer that I believe you would find immensely attractive.”

The Forest Becomes Black
“Aren’t you forgetting something Herr Himmler?” I said as I brought his pistol to view, ready to fire. “I guess you could say, you willingly handed your pistol to an enemy of the state; which if I’m not mistaken, makes you a co-conspirator; which is punishable by death. Is it not Herr Himmler?” - Tristan Schnack informs that he is committing treason to Heinrich Himmler.

No One Must Know!
I nodded, nonverbally agreeing with my nephew. After a few brief seconds of nods and smiles, the intelligence within relative struck. I had been patiently waiting for the moment. “And you thought I had not already explored the options?” I asked while handing him two pieces of paper, the second piece interesting him the most.

An Obstacle Removed
Thank you, Colonel. I will be returning to my headquarters and making recommendation that protocol be followed by all dignitaries and generals when in the war zone. It is tragedy that such an honorable and dedicated National Socialist should die in a gruesome way.” - Tristan Schnack to his questioner.

Between the Sea and a Panzer
By the end of July 9th, not only was the city of Dax firmly in our control, the Atlantic had been reached.

Lettering the Situation
A letter arrives from Generalfeldmarschall Heinz Guderian.

Odes of the Offspring
A letter arrives from Philipp and Sebastian Schnack.

Ritual of Hope
"For without honor, there is no integrity. Without integrity, there is no soul." - Tristan Schnack.

Two Choices
There is only so much energy and determination a person can store before the reality of the situation becomes unbearable. Once that store has been exhausted is when the wrong choice has been made.

An Unusual Encounter
Adolf and Erick both backed up away from the Kübelwagen, smiling. “We know,” they said.

A Forced Hand
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I am with the plot to overthrow Adolf Hitler the Führer.”

An Unexpected Confrontation
From the look on his face, I could tell my replacement was rather uncomfortable and distraught by the response. I stared into his eyes, and patiently waited for his reaction. With no reaction after ten uneasy seconds I continued, “Need I remind the Colonel that it is tradition to address a superior officer properly and accurately?”

Freedom, Righteousness, Oath, Might and Maker
“You are all under arrest,” Fromm said at first with a rasp in his voice. “You are all under arrest!” he repeated but with more confidence.

Shroud of Secrecy
While not necessarily agreeing to the premise of saving a man I despised, there were no other alternatives that promised a better future. I did not want to trade one dictator for another.

Buried in the Bunker
The next seconds went by in slow motion. I meticulously watched the bullet spin as it propelled through the stuffy air to its target. It seemed to take ten seconds before the bullet smashed through the left arm pit of Stauffenberg who began to lean to the right. Time sped up as I then charged directly at Stauffenberg. Right before I was about to hit the Colonel, a shot rang out.

Concealing the Truth
I raised the Luger from my hand at angled it for the correct trajectory. I took a deep breath, and calculated the next action rather hastily. A fourth shot rang out, further silencing the room. I looked at the target, my face showing deep concern. I felt sorrow for the loss of a man, he had done a tremendous amount of work for the cause, yet he had been tempted and corrupted by that nearest and dearest to him. I felt a tear racing down both cheeks.

Alone in the Bunker
“I do my Führer. I will need to visit him back at his home and advise him in detail of the gravity of the situation we find ourselves in,” I said after one full minute had passed from the bomb bursting in air.

Reflection on the Future
There were hundreds of plans that I wanted to implement within a moment’s notice of becoming the Reichsführer. However, the strain caused by the past few months had caused a toll that needed to be addressed. After exiting the bunker, I headed back towards Templehof where the planes along with my nephews awaited.

However Often My Estate
“Major, Mayor,” I said in a normal tone. “The Führer has personally sent me on a very important mission. I expect your utmost cooperation in the matter. Is there any questions?” I smirked after saying that.

A Face That I Use to Know
“I sense the need to repeat myself. The Führer has personally sent me on a very important mission. I expect your utmost cooperation in the matter. There shall be no questions in this matter,” I finished, placing my right arm against the right shoulder of the illegitimate mayor, and brushing past him.

Asking for Seconds
“Herr Reichsführer, hold up!” Klemens said, breathing between words. The man had apparently decided that I was worth the effort to break into a sprint to catch.

209 Roses

Guests of Honor
“I am sorry for my delayed arrival,” I said as I pulled out the chair and sat in it. “I had to attend to some private matters,” causing the gathered party to nod in understanding. “Shall we begin?” Another round of nods occurred.

[darthkommandant]

What is the state of the Kreigsmarine by the way?

[TekcoR]

What is the state of the Kreigsmarine by the way?

The what? That thing still exists after 1941? It's...abysmal.

I have the Tirpitz and a few other smaller ships, most of my submarines have been sunk.

[darthkommandant]

No Scharnhorst or Gneisenau? that stinks At least you have the mighty Tirpitz and At least it still does someting.

[misterbean]

subscribed

[aussiepride01]

subbed, this looks excellent

[TekcoR]

subbed, this looks excellent

subscribed

Welcome to the show both of you. Stay tuned for more!