Alptraum (Nightmare)
An Alternative History Affair
By TekcoR
The Train Keeps a Rolling
I’m sure we can be heard from miles upon end as the train rumbles down the track outside of Berlin. We are visible. We are vulnerable. If we are attacked, we stuck inside and we will all die. Hausser and I will just be more generals killed in this relentless war against the Allies. I really wish I didn’t decide to ride the train with the SS to the Western Front, but deep down I know that the benefits heavily outweigh the consequences.
Hausser’s long silence after my previous question was finally to be broken. “I am intrigued there Tristan. There are many within the ranks that immediately taken their pistol and give you instant justice; however as you can see, I have not done that. You have caught my interest, please elaborate further.”
My gut felt about a hundred and ten times better. I still feel a bit uneasy. I’m not confident that Hausser will still have my executed after extracting additional information me but I feel the need to continue. “Thank you,” is all I can initially say. Thank you for letting my existence go on for a few more minutes on this train? “There are plots within Heer, but nothing serious has been planned. We don’t know how we can get close to Hitler without causing too much suspicion and making sure the high members of the regime are also present. We do not have access to several members that must be eliminated in order to bring about a successful coup.”
Papa nodded, I think he caught the jest of who I was being specific about. “Hitler is not the problem, is he Tristan?” I nodded as confirmation. “Himmler is it then?” I again nodded to indicate that Himmler was the problem. “Himmler can be a difficult person to get close to; though he does have his own weaknesses. He can be too trusting of certain individuals. His death is not as hard as you think if you have an SS member he trusts.”
I looked at Hausser with a deep stare. Was he offering his services to the conspiracy? “Are you saying what I think you are saying?” I ask him after a few seconds of an uneasy pause. I’m nervous at this point. My hands are all sweaty. My heart is racing. I’m sure if anybody walks by they would be suspicious. I look over my shoulder; there is nobody else within this part of the train, except for a guard who is a good nearly ten meters away. I doubt he can hardly hear us.
Hausser noticed my movements and I knew he could read the tension I was displaying. Committing treason is not easy. It is a gut wrenching feeling that no matter how hard you try will not ease. But I cannot allow my beloved country fall again. I witnessed the destruction first hand at the end of World War One. The aftermath of the war was worse than the war itself, and the victors did not care about Germany. Their own inaction and concerns about their own needs brought upon their current situation.
“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. Papa’s one working eye was ready to break out into tears. He collected himself with a deep breath.
“I’m not sure if you were aware of this Tristan, but I was in Warsaw with you at the time of its fall to the Soviets. At the beginning of the invasion, I was as shocked as all within the services that we had been betrayed. I overcame the initial shock within days, along with my fellow officers. I highly believed that our technology and quality eventually halt the Soviet masses; we just had to use it to our advantage and follow military doctrine. We were told to stand and defend at all costs, city by city, yet the orders were dodged or loosely interpreted on our part – we always ended up evading destruction by the Soviets.”
“At Warsaw, the order was given again. Hitler was furious with the loss of Konigsberg. The stand fast order came, this time with the penalty of death for all soldiers regardless of rank seen retreating. I know you can recollect the stupidity of such an order from the Fuhrer. I had lost several men within my division to the orders from the former corporal that defied all logic. Few of my men at that point had belief in the Fuhrer. We along with the LAH were his fire teams, always sent to the hardest section of the front. I thought I could handle the losses, having witnessed war before. I thought that the first war was hell, that carnage unimaginable, the screams haunting, but I was wrong. This second war is worse.”
Paul was near tears now. He carefully readjusted his eye patch and casually wiped tears from his working eye. “In Warsaw,” he said before taking another deep breath. “I lost my faith in the Fuhrer. Over the past few months I had slowly lost it, as every death of another of my men caused my heart to skip another beat. But then, one morning I watched from afar through my binoculars that man who I thought would be my son-in-law killed. His squad had been ambushed the Soviets that morning while patrolling the ruins of the city. They had fought tooth and nail, running out of ammunition, and everybody being shot at least once. I saw the man my daughter had an interest in pick up a wounded comrade and begin running towards our lines within the city. I frantically traced his movements; I hoped that he would survive,” he said as more tears appeared crawling their way down his red cheek, though his hands did not move to wipe them away.
“He luckily dodged the bullets, almost being hit at least once or twice more. He stumbled once before picking himself and his comrade back up and hurriedly ran towards our lines. He was within yards of our lines when loyalists to Hitler appeared at our lines. I could not hear their yells but by the expression my future son-in-law’s face I knew it was not good. I, I, I saw them aim their rifles at his and his comrade who hung over his shoulders. The five shots I heard were the loudest of the war. I helplessly watched as my son-in-law and his comrade fell to the ground.” My jaw dropped. This man was a hero; he had fought off an ambush to the last and was shot for saving another life and his own so they could fight another day. “The official reason for the death of my son-in-law I later found out was for being a coward. That is the day Herr Schnack that constantly relive. I will never regain my faith in the Fuhrer. If you can help me bring justice to the man responsible for my loss, then I am with you.”
This is war. This is god damn war. This is the moment that I dislike, but feel the strongest about. “Paul, I can help you. I cannot imagine your loss as it has affected you. I have similar stories of war. It is a great honor that you shared your story with me, and that you are willing to aid us in our quest to restore honor to Germany.” The heartfelt story eased my mind, as I had not thought about being shot by Allied planes for the past hour. It was kind of a funny feeling. Knowing that at any moment either a loved one or you could be killed regardless of what action they were currently doing. I took a deep breath as the train kept a rolling throughout the countryside.