by Brian Parker
He stared at his lap. “I never wanted innocent people to die. I did my duty to the Reich, attacking targets where my superiors ordered. I’m truly sorry that the woman’s family was killed.”
The doctor slapped the tabletop loudly, making Berndt jump and look up at him. The man pointed a finger at him, saying, “And that’s why you’re different. You’re remorseful for the accidents and horrors of war. Many of the others are not. It is an interesting theory you have about correlation between the length of hibernation and the level of aggressiveness. It’s possible that the brain is degraded somehow…”
The doctor trailed off, not realizing that he’d casually given away the fact that the cells were indeed monitored. Berndt had guessed that everything he discussed with Gregory was being recorded, but now he knew for sure that it was. He’d been alone with the guards when he made the statement about the freezing process.
“Regardless,” the doctor continued. “I am going to show you what your Nazi ancestors did during the Second World War. I speak with many prisoners, all of whom talk about the American savagery during the war—even you. Logically, I understand that the information was drilled into you as children and it’s all you’ve ever known. Even the ones who squirreled away a television in the darkest chambers of your secret base only saw the programs that their Reich masters allowed to be seen. So you have no ability to see how the world viewed what the Nazis did during the war, or even to hear dissenting views from your own.”
“I don’t understand,” Berndt stated. “I’m sure there were incidents, warfare is not glamorous to those who experience it. Just as the doctor’s family was killed accidentally.”
“Did they teach you of the concentration camps?”
“The gulags?” Berndt asked. “Yes, they did. Thousands of German soldiers were taken to the Siberian camps and worked to death—even after the war was over. I often wondered why our first target was America and not the Soviet Union.”
The doctor chuckled. “For one, the Soviet Union doesn’t exist anymore. You are correct about the gulags, though. They were terrible, but hardly the worst part of World War Two. No, your government, the so-called Third Reich, was responsible for the death of almost forty million people between the gas chambers in their concentration camps and the mass starvation of Russian civilians.”
“That is not possible,” the pilot disputed. “That many deaths would have been purposeful, not the occasional accidental destruction of an occupied building or errant bomb. I do not believe your lies, Doctor.”
“Very well. You’ve all been deceived by your Reich. Slaves who were taught only what your masters wanted you to know.”
He reached into the pocket of the white coat he wore and produced a rectangular object. “I have put together newsreel footage and several documentaries on the war for you and several others like you whose brains are not corrupted.”
The doctor pointed the object at the wall behind him and pressed a button. A projector, hidden somewhere where Berndt couldn’t see it, began playing black and white footage that he recognized from the war. He’d seen similar footage thousands of time in Argus Base.
“I’ll leave this playing, Berndt. I want you to watch and absorb the lessons of history from an unbiased and unfiltered source.”
The doctor left after that. For several minutes, Berndt didn’t listen to the broadcast, instead, he fumed internally that his captors were trying to subvert his reality by saying that his forefathers were the architects of chaos, not the Americans or the British. The doctor had even glossed over the horrors of the Soviet gulags, where German prisoners of war disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again.
As time stretched on, Berndt found himself drawn in by the words and images on the screen. Sometimes the message was lost as the narrators spoke too quickly in English for him to understand it all, but the pictures and videos completed the story. It was a story of hate, ultra-violence, and outright genocide. It was totally different than anything he’d learned of the past.
They left him strapped to the chair until he could no longer hold his urine and he was forced to relieve himself, soiling his clothing.
And still the disturbing images continued.
*****
17 July 2025
Anacostia, Washington, DC
“She’s waking up, sir,” Specialist Olshefsky, the squad’s combat lifesaver, stated.
Gabe nodded, cursing himself for not bringing the company medic with him. Olshefsky did what he could to make the colonel comfortable, but he only had a week of lifesaving courses, which basically consisted of how to put a tourniquet on and learning to give IVs—not much help for a pregnant woman who passed out for no apparent reason.
Her eyes blinked a few times and she turned her head slightly until she saw Mr. Branson and the children he’d ushered out of the closet while she lay on the couch. “Ahh… Hello?” she mumbled.
“How are you feeling, ma’am?” Olshefsky asked. “You passed out, but lucky for you, you fell back onto the couch.”
She tried to sit up, but the crevasse between the couch cushions and her stomach conspired against her, so she reached a hand out. Gabe took it and helped to pull her into a sitting position as she swung her legs over the edge of the couch.
“Where’s Frederick?” Lieutenant Colonel Adams-Branson asked warily.
“He’s over there,” Gabe replied, gesturing toward the far corner where the German sat, his arms still handcuffed behind him.
“I don’t want him near the children,” she said. “He’s a murderer.”
“I am not, you wench!” Frederick Albrecht shouted. “Everything I did was in the interest of my nation, during war. I am not responsible for your people’s lack of preparedness.”
“Please, sir, and ma’am,” Gabe hissed, raising his hands to get their attention. “We don’t know if the German troops are walking by out in the street. We need to remain civil and most importantly, we need to keep quiet.”
“I will not stand by and allow a woman to insult my integrity and honor,” the colonel snapped. “Tell her to be quiet and I will do the same.”
Gabe shook his head. How the hell were they supposed to travel with these two at each other’s throats? His orders didn’t exclude him from extracting others, but regardless, there was no way he could leave the pregnant woman. She was his superior officer and had a makeshift family to take care of. If he left her, he’d be miserable for the rest of his life.
Her husband was going to be a problem though. The wheelchair wouldn’t make it through the woods back to Fort Ricketts. He’d need to devise something else to get the man back to the fort and then overland to their transport.
“Berserker Six, this is Berserker One.”
“Go ahead, One,” he replied.
“We’ve got hostiles inbound. Looks like there was a second drone up that we didn’t see.”
Their position was compromised. “Shit. How much time do we have?”
“Maybe a few minutes. They’re moving your way from the northwest about three blocks away. Looks like they’re moving cautiously, so they know something is up.”
“Yeah, they heard that shot for sure,” Jerry said, glaring at William. “They’ll spread out like ants all over the neighborhood, trying to find out where it came from.”
Gabe shook his head. “Second drone saw us come in here,” he replied. “Does the Resistance have any troops to fight with?” Gabe asked.
“Sure, we got troops all over, but every time we’ve tried to stand toe-to-toe with the Krauts, they’ve kicked our asses. The best thing to do is ambush small units, and then get the hell out of the area before they send reinforcements.”
“We don’t have time for that,” Gabe replied. Into the microphone, he said, “One, I need to verify that our route back to Fort Ricketts is clear.”
“As of right now, yes, sir.”
Gabe made his decision. “Lieutenant Colonel Adams-Branson, I’m going to follow through with my mis
sion to extract the German. You’re welcome to come back with us—and we’ll help you and your husband—but, we’re leaving now.”
“Now?” she answered. “But, James can’t make it up the—”
“Non-negotiable, ma’am. My orders are to secure the colonel. My men can carry your husband up the stairs and we can run for the cover of our patrol base at Fort Ricketts, and then get out of the city. But I need to get him out of here before we get trapped behind their lines.”
“Captain, I’m ready,” James replied, rolling his chair closer to the stairs.
His wife stood and went to him. They spoke in hushed tones for a few seconds and she nodded, her blonde hair swaying wildly as she did so. “Alright, Captain. We’re going to take the opportunity you’re giving us.” She looked to where the children sat huddled on the floor. “Kids, put your shoes on. We’re gonna go for a little run.”
“Already on, Miss Gloria,” the boy said, displaying his feet proudly.
“Okay, let’s do this,” Gabe said. “I need some of you guys to carry Mr. Branson up the stairs, somebody else grab his wheelchair. Then we’re going to go back out the way we came in. Sergeant Paredes, designate some men to take turns pushing the wheelchair. We’ll go as fast as the chair can go.”
The squad sprang into action, two men picked up Mr. Branson and carried him up the stairs, while Private Powell picked up the wheelchair and followed them up. “Oberst Albrecht we’re leaving now,” Gabe said when he saw the colonel sitting in the corner still.
“I heard. I’m just resting my legs for as long as I can.”
“Time’s up. Your friends are out there hunting for you and it’s a good bet that the second drone saw us come in here.” He paused and then added, “Let’s go, sir.”
It took a minute to get everyone up the stairs. “One, Six. Time hack.”
“They’re two blocks away and closing, Six.”
“We gotta make our lead count,” Gabe shouted. “Let’s go.”
They jogged slowly down the street, setting an easy pace for the motley crew they’d inherited. In addition to the wheelchair, Gabe had a sixty-year old man whom he’d removed the zip strips from, a pregnant woman and three kids, each of them presented a unique challenge and had to be handled carefully. Oh yeah, then there are the goddamned Germans who are closing in from behind, he grumbled to himself.
The sharp whine of turbofan blades told him that the German drone saw them and was closing. “Paredes, DroneDestroyer. Now!” The Germans knew they were here, no sense trying to keep it a secret any longer.
The squad leader pulled something that resembled a rifle off another soldier’s back and spun around, taking a knee as he did so. He brought the electronic warfare device up to his shoulder and turned it on, initiating a tracking system that acquired the drone’s signature quickly. Several bursts from the device scrambled the drone’s frequency and it tilted sharply. It went sideways for a half of a second, then went completely upside down and burned into the ground.
Gabe congratulated Sergeant Paredes and then added, pointing to the DroneDestroyer, “Keep that thing out. There’s more of ’em around.”
They ran after the rest of the squad, who’d followed the company’s standard operating procedure and continued moving. Since the engagement lasted less than a minute, the others hadn’t gotten far.
The squad jogged in silence and Gabe began to feel the tickle of sweat running down his skin in the empty space between his lower back and the heavy tactical vest he wore. He waited to hear Lieutenant Wilcox warning of an imminent attack any moment, but he didn’t come up on the net.
Finally, he’d had enough of guessing. “One, this is Six. Status?”
“They’ve stopped temporarily. Probably trying to figure out who you are since you just blasted that drone out of the sky.”
“Good. How much further until we reach Fort Ricketts?”
“Uh… Looks like about a tenth of a mile. You’re coming to the green space now.”
Thoughts and plans warred in his head for supremacy. On the one hand, he wanted to continue moving and get everyone out of the city as soon as possible. On the other, they could defend the fort against a ground attack—until they ran out of ammo or the Germans brought up one of those hovertanks.
It didn’t take long for him to decide. “Berserker One, prepare your platoon for movement. We’re going to move through your lines and continue toward our next assembly area.” They’d established several link-up points along the way from where they ditched the cars in case the platoon got separated. Gabe had just ordered the abandonment of Fort Ricketts in favor of the Naylor Road Metro Station about a mile away.
Up ahead, Sergeant Kelley called a halt. They couldn’t push the wheelchair anymore along the rutted path leading through the nature area.
“I got him,” Corporal Hicks said as he scooped Mr. Branson up on his shoulder into a fireman’s carry.
Private Powell once again moved to the wheelchair and pressed some button or knob with his foot. The chair collapsed, folding in half. A couple of the guys clapped him on the back and Gabe heard him say, “I’ve got a grandpa that has one of these.”
They moved along the path and he slid up the line near Lieutenant Colonel Adams-Branson. “How are you holding up, ma’am?”
“I’ve felt better, Captain,” she replied, supporting her stomach on interlocked fingers underneath. “I’m not going to complain though. Let’s get as far away as we can.”
He nodded. She was a trooper; she’d make the best of it. He moved forward to where the colonel struggled, picking his steps carefully over the rugged terrain. “How are you doing, sir?”
“Is this what Americans call a rescue mission? Where’s the helicopter?”
“It’s too dangerous. All it would take is for one of your flying saucers to notice the bird and then we’re all dead. This is much safer.”
“Flying saucer? Oh, you mean a düsenjäger. Yes, they are much more superior than your helicopters.”
The captain dropped back. The man rubbed him the wrong way. From his arrogance to his assertion that everything German was superior, Gabe couldn’t help but wonder why the man was willing to betray his people.
“It’s because he’s pissed off their boss,” the woman stated as his pace slowed.
“Hmm?”
“The look on your face is plain as day, Captain Murdock. You want to know why he’s offering to help us, right?”
“Yeah. How’d you—?”
“I work with all men. My entire career, I’ve been the only woman around, so I know a lot about how you guys think. That man is an opportunist. From what I could gather by talking to him the past few days as we were stuck in that basement, he got himself into trouble with the German commander somehow and now he’s been sentenced to death. He took off before they could carry out the punishment. The only reason he’s helping us is for self-preservation.”
“He’s sentenced to death? For what?”
“We never got him to admit why. He said that he didn’t agree with their leader’s plans to create a new Fatherland, but I’ve given it some thought and I’m not sure. Why did he spend all those years training the Reich’s soldiers if they weren’t planning on attacking and staying off that miserable continent?”
“Miserable continent?” Gabe asked. “He told you where their base is?”
“I already knew where their base is,” the woman replied. “I knew five years ago after the attack in Fort Lauderdale.”
“Well, where the hell are these people from, ma’am?”
She glanced over at him and then looked ahead. “Is that Fort Ricketts?”
He looked up. They’d made it to the perimeter of the old fort. “Yeah. We’re only stopping to drink water and grab our packs.”
She nodded. “Their base is an underground complex in Antarctica.”
Gabe stopped, watching the squad file into the base. Of all the places in the world she could have said, he never would have imagi
ned she’d say that. There wasn’t anything to eat there. How’d they survive?
*****
19 July 2025
Holloway Office Complex, CIA Black Site Three, Reston, Virginia
How long have I been here?
The air smelled of stale piss and sweat. He lifted his leg from the chair. The dried urine had crystalized, forming sharp little flakes that dug into his skin. Preventing dehydration and the loss of electrolytes was something the Wehrmacht drilled relentlessly into its soldiers. The crystals meant he was losing salt in the room’s oppressive heat—not good.
“I’m ready to talk!” he shouted. “I will tell you where our base is! Please, just stop the videos.”
His eyes drifted to the projector screen. Yet another program was playing. This one showed Allied troops liberating another Nazi concentration camp. Mounds of rail-thin nude bodies were piled high, covered in some type of white powder, waiting to go into the fires. There had to have been thousands of them.
“At least the dead’s suffering had ended,” the narrator droned on. “More than half of the liberated prisoners died within a day or two of the Allied soldiers’ arrival. Well-meaning men shared their rations with prisoners. The sudden influx of nutritious vitamins and minerals sent their bodies into shock. The psychological trauma of believing that they were saved, only to die by the hundreds after liberation, was terrible.”
“Why!” Berndt wailed. “Why would anyone do this to another human being?”
The hours continued to stretch by as one documentary ended and another began. This was one following the Waffen SS, recorded by what appeared to be Nazi cameramen. These men carried out their assigned missions with glee. Their enthusiasm made him sick and the sight of their uniforms, which were the exact same as his, destroying the last vestiges of his loyalty to the Reich.
His predecessors were evil. Pure, unadulterated evil.
He tried to come up with stronger words, but his mind failed him. The word was sufficient enough, he supposed. It conveyed his feelings of hatred for the Germans who came before him. It boggled his mind that all of what he’d been shown had been hidden from him for his entire life.