It’s over. We’ve done it. History has been changed forever, and nobody will understand how it happened or who was behind it. Nobody will remember my name and, in part, I prefer it that way.
That same night my grandfather and I drink a lot. More than I have ever drank in my life. He will be returning to Poland, and I… I don’t know yet. I have an idea, but I still need to muster the courage.
III
It’s been two years since I left Berlin.
I had few choices left. I couldn’t stay in Germany. If I did, I would most likely be enlisted in the army. If I were to somehow avoid that, I’d still inevitably be forced to join the Volkssturm down the line. An army made of old men, injured soldiers and boys too young to fight, in Germany’s last desperate and futile attempt to win the war. I escaped the country and felt like I was playing with an unfair advantage. I knew how history would unfold and I knew exactly what to do in order to survive the next couple of years until the end of the war.
My Polish comrades helped me cross the border towards the incoming Red Army. There I offered my services as a pilot. However, it wouldn’t be long until officials caught eye of my flawless German accent and decided that I was better suited to join URK SMERSH, the military’s field counterintelligence department. I was immediately transferred to the 3rd Ukrainian Front, under the command of Rodion Malinovsky. Having fought in World War I, the Spanish Civil War and liberating Stalingrad from the Germans, I was confident I had fallen in safe hands. He’d later be replaced by Fyodor Tolbukhin, who was no less qualified. I even had the honor of working beside notorious Soviet spy Nikolai Kuznetsov, just before his capture and execution in 1944. His death was a permanent reminder that, even though I was fighting on the winning team, I would never completely safe from death.
The Red Army steadily pushed through Romania, Hungary, Czechoslovakia and finally, in April 1945, just as I had read in history books back in school, we arrived to Vienna. My destination.
Hoping to accomplish a bloodless liberation of the city, we established close communication with the O5, the Austrian Resistance. Among their leaders, Carl Szokoll. A plan was carefully thought out for German troops to retreat as soon as they saw us, avoiding an unnecessary loss of human life and the consequent destruction of Vienna. We called it “Operation Radetzky”. Unfortunately, just a day before our offensive, SS officers intercepted our ploy and the major leaders of the resistance were publicly hanged. Fortunately, Carl made it alive. I never asked him how he made it all the way to our position, but he did, and with him he brought other members of the resistance. One of them was a woman. She was blond. I recognized her immediately. It was her.
And here I am now. Staring at her beautiful face once more. Youthful. Radiant.My heart has stopped. She looks youthful. Radiant. And terrified by the remarks Bulgarian and Russian soldiers are exchanging among themselves, oblivious to the fact that this German girl is capable of understanding every disgusting word they're saying. I walk up to her and introduce myself in Russian. She is cold at first, wary, silent, waiting for my next move. I then speak in German, almost a whisper, so that others aren’t be able to hear. Seeing that I can speak both languages seems to soften her attitude towards me. I calmly explain that I am working for the counterintelligence department, and that I’d be very interested in her help. She’s about to ask me why when I interrupt and explain my reasoning. She speaks both languages fluently, and she knows the city better than any of us.
She is still skeptical towards me. I don't blame her. But I need to let her know why I'm here. Maybe not right away. Maybe not today, but one day. I need to let her know that the war is over. That I never had anything to fight for. That I had no purpose. Not in this timeline nor ever. That there was only one reason for all this. Only one logical explanation. That I have travelled across space and time simply to be closer to her. I need to let her know that she is my purpose.
So, although I already know the answer, I ask her where she's from. Maybe having something in common will break the ice.
She lets my question linger in the vacuum of time. She ponders for a moment. Studies me from top to bottom. She stares back at me with her piercing eyes and takes a deep breath.
“Berlin,” she replies.
THE AUTHOR
Alain Xalabarde is an award-winning filmmaker and game designer. He was born in the Basque Country, raised in South Africa, completed his film studies in New York, wrote his first screenplay in London, got his first job in the video game’s industry in Berlin, and is now happily married to his Russian wife.
Copyright
Copyright © 2019 Alain Xalabarde
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 9781096068587