Alptraum (Nightmare)
An Alternative History Affair
By TekcoR
A New Destination
I kneeled before the lifeless Hausser; unable to hold back my tears I resembled a child who had loss his favorite toy. War it seems is the only acceptable place where grown men can cry without fear of societal retribution. In his brief time as my host, I had learned quickly why his men had trusted him so dearly. After what felt like hours kneeling before Papa’s corpse, I noticed several SS men gathering above me. I respectfully bestowed my last thoughts with Papa before collecting myself and allowing his men to display their own grief.
The loss of Hausser would greatly affect not only our upcoming offensive to push the Allied forces out of southern France and back across the Pyrenees. The SS would be going into the battle with heavy hearts, and I did not know how they would react. Guderian and I hoped that their sense duty would be increased and their fury could be unleashed against the unsuspecting Allies. What the men around me did not know, that Hausser was an essential piece of the puzzle in the plan to remove the Nazi regime.
Over the past few days, Papa and I had developed a plan to be carried out over the winter and into early 1945. Hausser had convinced me that he would be able to persuade fellow SS generals like Sepp Dietrich, commander of the panzer division that bore Hitler’s name, to join in a revolution to save Germany but not the Third Reich from destruction. After the offensive in southern Spain, I with Guderian’s approval arranged for the Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler (Dietrich) and Das Reich (Hausser), to be assigned to refit outside of Berlin in late December. The plan was simple. At a prearranged moment, the order would be given and the hierarchy of the Nazi leadership would be arranged and dealt with.
But none of that would happen now. Without Hausser, I did not feel comfortable putting my neck on the line again. Hausser was my point man, he knew his fellow generals better than I did. The plan for the restoration of Germany would have to be modified. There were alternative plans, most of them I thought unworthy of pursuing to much degree. I am still highly against explosives placed in the Fuhrer bunker - Hausser had shared his objections to the alternatives. I had an idea in mind, but I couldn’t really fathom at the time doing what the plan entailed.
Two days has passed since the attack by the Mustangs. I have remembered how to repress my thoughts about Hausser. He has become a distant memory similar to Captain Einswald. Rhiley and I are relatively quiet during the remaining trip to the staging ground just outside of Toulouse. The whole train was eerily quiet. All of us had witnessed some form of loss, but it was never easy to accept. War is all about a person being alive at one moment then dead the next. In combat it was easier to overlook the death of a comrade, as time did not cease, bullets still whizz past your head, and artillery shells still explode sending tremors down your spine. The events around you force you to forget the death of a friend. Yet on the train it was different. There was no bullet or shell with your name that forced you to minimize the loss.
As we depart the train, the collective mood of whole changes from desolate to energetic. The men are willing to avenge the loss of Hausser and their comrades, even though the foe we are attacking were not responsible for the death – they will have to bear our retribution. I have some radical thoughts about spearheading the attack. 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.