“Don’t worry about Postel,” the mechanic Heinz Mertens chuckled and dug in to the hardened soil.
“It isn’t personal. Postel is actually the highest-ranking person in this whole cell, but the commander of this place doesn’t trust him, or anyone else that isn’t Leibstandarte.”
Postel had stormed off when Diefanthel ordered the Kompanie to dig a bunker for the SS officers and staff. The three of them, Mertens, Gustav and Hans, toiled away while keeping an eye on the American prisoner who sat in silence. Mertens seemed the most agreeable person there by far. His cheerful disposition was a stark contrast to the harsh hearts commanding all of them. The mechanic’s bright blonde hair and red cheeks only added to the personification.
“Can’t say I blame him, though. Postel, I mean. The aerodrome didn’t prepare me for these people’s unforgiving discipline, either.”
“So how’d you wind up here?” Hans asked. “Escaped a prisoner camp?”
Mertens laughed, “Heck no. I was in Crimea, in 1944. My pilot was the last man to evacuate when the Soviets came. There were three of us left, and only a single 109-E. You know, the fighter plane.”
“Right, but, isn’t that only a one-seater?”
“Yes! My pilot had to tear out the radio, then the cockpit armor plate. I crawled into the fuselage when my pilot fired up the plane. I could feel the engine lifting us with no difficulty. Then—”
“A white light? We’ve all seen it. Including myself,” a drawling voice retorted from behind them. It was the American prisoner.
“We can’t speak with you, prisoner,” Mertens retorted to Wheelis in a semi-official tone.
“…Not at least while the SS is watching,” the mechanic muttered out loud enough for Hans to hear and understand.
As the sun sank down beneath the evergreens and turned the sky pink, members of the Leibstandarte began making their way to the officer’s bunker. It was dinner time. General-major Postel put down his spade and unexpectedly shot orders at the Kompanie.
“Herr Mertens, Gustav, you will come with me to eat. Herr Hepner has guard duty today and we will bring him his share of the ration. Los!”
The three of them looked hesitantly at one another, but both Gustav and Mertens followed Postel out of the half-dug bunker and toward the crackling fire where the crowd was gathered.
With a sigh Hans continued digging by himself when a howl rose up from the distance and pierced the darkening sky. A wolf? That couldn’t be. Not in Bavaria. A rush of sudden understanding fell on him like a torrent of kicked-up debris.
“There wolves in your country, Herr Hepner?”
The American prisoner interrupted Hans’ thoughts. Hans turned around and stared into Wheelis’ dark blue eyes.
“No. And why do you ask?”
“…Not many wolves in my country either. Who knows where we really are. You ever thought of that?”
Hans threw his spade onto the ground, walked up to the tall Texan and grabbed his uniform by the collar.
“Listen to me goddammit, because I’m only going to say this once. There is no American occupation here. This isn’t even our world. It’s some other realm. This might sound crazy to you, but we’re in a world where animals talk and walk on two legs. There are all kinds of creatures but I must get out of here right now because my mate is hurting and she needs me. And I don’t care whether you believe it or not.”
Wheelis stared back at Hans and didn’t budge as the young Landser berated him.
“I believe you. But the Fuehrer’s Leibstandarte never will. They’re going to keep you here just like they’re doing to me.”
“That’s what they think.”
“HOWDY STRANGER!”
Just then Gustav hopped into the trench and gave Hans a share of Venison chunks. It had been the first time in awhile that his mess tin had gotten much use. Postel and Mertens weren’t far behind. Neither was Diefanthal.
“Gentlemen,” the Sturmbannfuehrer instructed, “tonight guard duty is assigned to our newcomer, Gefreiter Hepner, who will remain on post until 04:00 hours to watch the river for activity and ensure that prisoners do not escape. For the rest of you, I expect sleep at no later than 21:00. Heil Hitler!”
“Hah-HAAA!” Gustav roared in laughter at Hans’ repeated misfortune. For his part, Hans tried to look upset. He and Wheelis nodded to each other discreetly.
That evening at about 11:30, Hans began kicking dirt in Tex’s direction. Tex opened his eyes and Hans motioned him up. Gustav and Mertens remained sound asleep. Hans climbed out of the trench and motioned for Tex to hand him the Mauser. Hans hoisted himself up and offered Tex a hand, but just then a figure emerged in camouflage from around the corner.
“I knew you two were up to something.”
It was Postel. He unsheathed his officer’s pistol and pointed it upwards at Hans.
“Listen,” Hans came back into the trench and pleaded.
“We’re not doing anything bad, Herr General-Major. I’ll tell you what’s happening: This isn’t Bavaria. We’re all in another world right now. I don’t know how, but it happened in a white light. This is a world where animals can talk and stand upright. The SS won’t believe us, but you have to, Herr General-Major!”
“Nonsense, you traitor. You’ll both hang for this. AUSBRUCH! HELP! AUSBRUCH!”
Suddenly Wheelis jammed the side handle of Hans’ rifle into Postel’s head. The impact knocked the Great War Veteran onto his face and sent his officer’s cap flying, exposing his thinned hair and pronounced scalp. Hans stood in horror at the sight of an officer down, but this was the only way. He pulled Tex out of the trench and they ran onto the frozen river. Shots were already ringing out from the camp. They could hear the shouting. Tex fired a few shots their way as they scrambled across.
“Come on, Tex, don’t aim so well.”
“Sorry Herr Hepner,” he whispered back as they both crawled into the darkness.
“You have an idea where we’re going?”
“Yeah. Across the river and to the east. A single tree. My mate is there.”
The lone pine tree was visible in the pale moonlight, and it took the two of them a few moments to get there. Perhaps half an hour. There was no indication that the SS were close behind.
“This is it,” Hans whispered and shoved the needle branches out of the way to behold Sarah’s lifeless body.
Convergence
Sarah’s eyes opened and she jumped up, reaching for her mate. Hans embraced her in silence. She opened her mouth, but only a faint squawk came from her voice box.
“She doesn’t look well, Herr Hepner,” Tex drawled behind them, standing just outside the tree while glancing over his shoulder.
“I know. That’s why I have to take her back.”
The dressing Hans applied to Sarah’s neck was now stained in red.
“Umm—”
“Don’t worry Herr Wheelis,” Hans said. “I appreciate your help. You don’t have to come back with Sarah and I. If the SS wants to hold someone responsible, let me be the one.”
The tall American spun around and stared at the rising sun on the horizon and the sharp crags in the distance. He stood silently for a moment before sighing and giving Hans an answer.
“I… Couldn’t do that to ya, Herr Hepner. I’m gonna come back with you.”
“Are you sure? The SS hangs their own men for this. They won’t hesitate to do the same to us,” Hans told the American.
“I know. But what about the animals here? What’d you call them? ‘Furries?’”
“Yeah…”
“Well the ones here don’t seem any nicer than the SS.” Tex mused, stepping into the tree to rummage through Hans’ first aid kit.