Prehistoric WWII

by Dane Hatchell

  After a good minute had passed, Christoph started moving again, his rifle up by his chest at the ready.

  Bach’s peripheral caught movement. He looked and saw a theropod slinking five meters to the east. From the distance, the size of it didn’t look threatening. As near as he could estimate, it wasn’t more than three meters long and only one meter high. Its body shape reminded him of a long-legged swan, because of its long, thin neck and narrow head. For a moment he considered firing off a shot, hoping to scare it away. Sometimes the best defense was a strong offense. But he realized that a gunshot might call attention from dangers far worse. Still, he didn’t like the idea of that dinosaur slinking on the sideline.

  RRRTTTHHH…RRRTTTHHH.

  There it was again. Coming from a different direction this time and perhaps sounding closer.

  Christoph stopped and motioned for the others to come to him.

  When Bach arrived, he said to the commander, “Over there.” He nodded his head to the side. “I do not know if that noise is coming from a dinosaur like that.”

  “There are two dinosaurs over there,” Christoph said.

  “Three…four…five,” Phelps added as more gathered in view.

  “Perhaps these hunt in packs, too,” Bach said. “What do we do?”

  “I wish we had a wall at our back,” Christoph said, scanning the area. “They are gathering to attack. We must stand ready.”

  No sooner than the words left his lips, a coelophysis led the charge straight for the crewmen. Others poured from the brush, many hidden by the foliage.

  Phelps was the first to fire. His aim, less than certain. The targets were fast, and their body size presented the minimum opportunity for a deadly hit.

  Blood plummeted from Bach’s face toward a growing pit in his stomach. A swarm of dinosaurs in this number would be impossible to survive. This was it, the last stand. Only for a brief moment did he consider pulling his sidearm and putting it to his head. Instead, he lifted his rifle and shot the first beast in his sight. It hit chest-first along the ground, its long neck twisting, and skidded to a halt.

  More bullets made connections as dinosaurs shrieked in pain and others stumbled to the ground. The gunfire had managed to put hesitation in the onslaught, but a cry from a crewman, who had drifted away from the group, told he was the first to fall victim.

  Bach saw that two dinosaurs had paired in the attack. One pulled on his arm, sending the man to a knee. The other had its long, narrow mouth clamped vise-like on the back of the man’s neck.

  Gunfire erupted in the distance. Some number of dinosaurs, who lingered in the attack, scattered in every direction, some headed toward the gunfire.

  The situation was so electrified Bach didn’t have the luxury to question who was coming to their aid. The lieutenant concentrated on a few dinosaurs, who stopped two meters away, and snaked their heads and open mouths toward the commander. He suspected the loud discharge from their rifles put caution in their attack.

  All weren’t so fortunate, as two more screams signaled the end of more lives.

  The gunfire from behind the dinosaurs grew closer. Bach now saw the deep blue uniforms worn by the US Navy. The Americans had come to their rescue. Surely, they knew who they were fighting to save. An errant thought had Bach wondering if the sailors would stop with the dinosaurs and then continue until the Germans were eliminated, too. No time to be concerned with that now. Each second had to be won in order for the next second to have consequence.

  A coelophysis charged the commander, sending him to his backside, and his head glanced off a stone the size of a dinner plate.

  Bach unloaded his rifle into the dinosaur’s side, keeling it over before its head could strike the commander. Another three charged for the kill. He quickly dropped the magazine and pulled back on the bolt, loading a bullet, and letting lead fly. He was sure he hit his targets, but their momentum carried them forward. One managed to hit him and knock him down, but he was on his feet in a flash, firing as even more charged forward.

  The Americans had killed or scattered the majority of the dinosaurs between the two armies and closed the distance between them. But more than two dozen relentlessly attacked Bach and his crewmen.

  Phelps’ rifle clicked empty after dropping a dinosaur at his feet. The beast behind it struck with mouth open toward him, only to swerve at the last moment to avoid the bayonet on the rifle’s barrel.

  With the remaining dinosaurs clustered about the five survivors of the U-boat, the Americans only fired sporadically, obviously out of concern of hitting them.

  With a rebel yell, an American charged the dinosaur challenging Phelps. The bayonet from his rifle penetrated the dinosaur from its backside and sunk in with a dull thunk.

  The beast raised its head and brayed with pain.

  Phelps dug his feet into the ground and charged forward. His blade found the dinosaur’s heart. The deadly creature’s body went limp, its head flopping over to the side.

  For a brief second Bach saw the two opposing warriors stand side-by-side, ready to fight any onslaught.

  But as his spirits brightened with the aid of the Americans, fire blazed from his left shoulder as a coelophysis’ mouth clamped tightly. Teeth ripped into flesh, and the creature pulled him off balance to the ground.

  The blue sky loomed overhead and white clouds blew wistfully by. A long neck carried a narrow head plunging from above. It happened so fast, Bach was completely at the situation’s mercy. Though the battle neared the end, with victory for them and their new allies, fate had dealt him a death card.

  The dinosaur’s open mouth came down on Bach’s soft throat. He felt the blood pressure rise in his head like it was a squeezed balloon. Warm wetness trickled over his neck and between his shoulder blades. His lungs could no longer pull in the precious air surrounding his face. Reality started to lose color. Dark blotches exploded like fireworks in his field of vision. The gift of life had run its course. Lieutenant Gunter Bach, for all the good and all the bad he had done in life in for but a mere dot on the timeline of human history, felt his soul slowly evaporate from his body. Peace rolled in, filling the void, and with peace, satisfying joy until oblivion.

  Chapter 20

  Though they hadn’t spent two full days in this land out of time, the scene was all but too familiar. Dinosaurs ripped by modern weapons lay dead, strewn among the greatest treasure nations had to offer. A sacrifice for the freedom of others, so that few might preserve the wellbeing of the many. Sadly, despite their valiant sacrifices, now the many had become the few.

  Captain T.W. Brazo watched the German boy, Erik, kneel next to a U-boat officer.

  The only other member of the German Navy to survive, a man named Phelps, looked sadly about. Bags swelled under his eyes. His face was smeared with sweat and grime.

  The connection between the German officer and the boy was obvious. Erik had to be his son. The facial features were uncannily similar.

  To everyone’s shock, the downed officer moaned.

  “Father!” Erik said in surprise. Apparently, he had feared the worst, too. The boy placed his hand on his father’s cheek.

  The officer’s eyes fluttered open. Weakly, he said, “Erik?”

  “Yes. I am here,” he said assuringly.

  “Aber….” his words trailed, but his voice had brightened. Looking around, he became aware that he was no longer only in the presence of his companions.

  “I’m Captain T.W. Brazo. I am…was the captain of the USS Sutton,” Brazo said. “My men and I came to your rescue. You are in no danger, but I ask that you keep all communications in English.” Brazo had already made the request to Phelps and the boy.

  “Erik!” the officer said and pulled his son to his chest, with one arm. He closed his eyes and smiled. “I thought that I had lost you.”

  “I am fine, Father,” the boy said.

  The officer’s eyes widened. “Phelps…my men…Bach!”

  “The others did not survive,�
�� Phelps said.

  Joy melted from the officer’s face. Bitterly, he tightened his lips.

  “Are you the commander?” Brazo took a shot at guessing the man’s rank. He at least had more markings on his uniform than another officer who lay dead with his throat torn out.

  “Yes. I am the commander of U-616. My name is Christoph Neuzetser.”

  “I’d be lying if I said I was glad to meet you. What I will say is that I am happy that you and your son are back together,” Brazo said.

  “I never thought I would see my son again,” Christoph said, his arm still tightly around Erik. “How did you…?”

  “It is an unbelievable story, Father. The creature who stole me away put me in its nest. I managed to escape, and an American sailor saved me. The captain rescued us. He and the rest of the Americans have treated me well. Many gave their lives fighting the dinosaurs attacking you,” Erik said.

  “Yeah. I lost twelve more men. There’s no way we’ll survive any more attacks of this magnitude,” Brazo said.

  “I am grateful for your act of kindness, and you have my sympathies for your lost men. It appears we have found ourselves in the same proverbial boat,” Christoph said.

  “That we do,” Brazo said.

  XO Alan Slick stuck by Brazo’s side. Jim Stone had one eye on Phelps, who still had his rifle, obviously ready to move into action had the German made a threatening move. Adam Rodrigue and Hampton Wallace remained on watching the perimeter, along with the other two crewmen who had survived, Bob Brown and Bill Sanders.

  Brazo looked about, and said, “I wish we had time to bury our dead, but we don’t. My objective was to make it as close to the top of that high point before dark. We can’t stay here any longer.”

  “That was our objective, too, before we were attacked,” Christoph said. “We think alike, Commander.”

  “We wouldn’t be commanders of ships in our nations’ service if we didn’t,” Brazo said, ironically thinking of how the two were probably so much alike, only separated by the color of their uniforms and the belief of who was right and who was wrong. “How’s your head? Are you able to travel?”

  Christoph gingerly touched the left side of his forehead. “It is bruised, but I am able to travel,” Christoph said.

  “That wound on your arm looks bad,” Slick said. “Better let me clean it up.”

  “It is but a scratch and of no concern. We must leave now, as the captain said. We must find safety for the night,” Christoph said.

  “Okay, let’s once again go through the gruesome tasks of relieving our fallen men of food and ammo, and then we’ll hike our way up the high point,” Brazo said. “Commander, you and Phelps are only to attend to your men, as we will ours. Out of respect, of course.”

  “Thank you, Captain. You are most gracious. I cannot truthfully say I would have afforded you the same consideration if the circumstances were reversed,” Christoph said.

  Well, at least the German commander was being honest. Brazo had no way of knowing if he was making the right decision or not by letting the Germans join his team as equals. But his gut told him that with the odds in their favor, and the wellbeing of the commander’s son a prime objective, there would be no meaningful conflicts between the two sides. At the first indication of trouble, Brazo had already discussed with Slick, who covertly passed it on to the others, they were to shoot to kill any attempted insurrection. Erik, the boy, would be treated no differently than any other man in the deadly game of war.

  *

  Tired legs and heavy hearts had trodden up the rocky incline leading up to the highest point in the visible area. The pace had been slow and steady. As the sun made its dip toward the horizon, the heat of the day dissipated enough to encourage all to push forward.

  Commander Christoph, his son Erik, and Phelps pioneered the way.

  Brazo and his six crewmen followed. The captain kept his eye closely on Christoph. Not out of fear of what the German officer might do, but more out of concern for the man’s health. The commander’s face looked gaunt, sickly, and he refused to rest more than five minutes at impromptu breaks.

  The cloudless night and bright full moon allowed them to trek under the stars for a while. Fortunately, the terrain didn’t offer many obstacles or any desirable shelters for dinosaurs to hide. There were a few varieties of pterosaurs, but nothing with a wingspan of over six feet. Brazo had wondered why some dinosaur hadn’t adapted to this mountainous ground as goats had in modern times. Perhaps food was plentiful enough on the ground below. Still, he thought some of the weaker creatures might find safety on higher ground. At this point, he now feared something hiding in a subterranean cave somewhere might surprise them in the night. From all they had been through, why should their luck change now?

  Luck? Were he and the six other Americans actually lucky to be left alive? Maybe the lucky ones were the ones who had died, but dying negated life. And life, life was the only real possession that ultimately mattered.

  Brazo realized fatigue had affected his reasoning, sending circular patterns of doubt through his mind. Doubt that might lead to the deaths of them all.

  With the distance to the top of the high point appearing to be within sight, there was no real advantage to advance that far. They had come upon a limestone formation with a smooth side, perfect to set up camp next to. No one protested when he gave the order.

  Rodrigue took first watch as the others spread thin blankets to lie on. The campfire had matured into glowing orange-yellow embers, and they heated water in metal cups. The Germans shared rations of canned fish, passed on any of the American pemmican, but gladly took the chocolate offered to them.

  Erik had spent his full attention attending to his father. The commander said few words, and the only food he ate was at his son’s insistence. Jim Stone said Christoph had a burning fever, despite all the aspirin administered to him.

  With food in the belly and hot coffee to the lips, tension released like dry, rotting bands on a rubber ball. Just when Brazo assumed everyone would soon drift away in their own thoughts and into the cradling arms of sleep, E-3 Bob Brown felt the need to stimulate conversation.

  “What do you Jerries think is going to happen to y’all after the war?” Brown’s mocking tone anticipated the worst of consequences.

  Christoph might as well have been on the other side of the Earth and made no indication that he heard the American sailor.

  Erik briefly glanced Brown’s way, but then turned his eyes toward the fire.

  Phelps cocked his head to one side, rubbing the thumb and pointer finger on his right hand together. “I imagine that like our situation now, we will be at the mercy of the Allies.”

  A smile swelled across Brown’s gritty face. “Yep, imagine so. You boys shoulda learned your lesson after the first world war.”

  “I was but a child when that war ended. We could argue why Germany went to war then, but I have no expectation that you would understand any other perspective than the victors’ view of history,” Phelps said. “You see, the German people accepted their punishment and went to great lengths in fulfilling the impossible demands of the Treaty of Versailles. The monetary penalty heaped upon the German people, a country crippled by war and the loss of millions of working-aged men, was more than even the most robust of economies could bear. Most of my early life, I lived each day with gnawing pains of hunger. It took years for the Fatherland to heal and rebuild itself. If conditions had not been so harsh, perhaps our leaders would not have had the need to create a war machine to preserve our survival.”

  XO Slick snapped to attention. “Survival? Having a military to protect your country is one thing. Invading other countries and conquering them, quite another.”

  “You speak of imaginary lines on lands thousands of years old. Search your history. Those lines have been redrawn multiple times over the generations. Austria welcomed their annexation in nineteen thirty-eight. There was a German majority in Sudetenland when they were assimilated. Cz
echoslovakia became our protectorate. The move against Poland was purely a defensive one. We had no wish for war. It was the governments of Britain, Australia, New Zealand, India, and France who declared war on us. What were we to do but fight back?”

  “You’re crazy, just like Hitler. He was a madman, too. You saw what he did to all those Gypsies and Jews. He’s probably killed millions of them,” Brown said, a sharp edge in his tone.

  “Propaganda. Yes, the undesirables had to be purged from poisoning our society. But they were simply moved to relocation camps,” Phelps said.

  “You’re full of it. There’re stories of gas chambers and furnaces. Millions dying from starvation, that’s what the Third Reich is really all about,” Brown said.

  “Again, propaganda. You have prisons in America. I am sure conditions there are not the finest, either. We were separating ourselves as a people. Our only intent was for the Aryan race to prosper,” Phelps said.

  “By sending V-two rockets to Britain? Indiscriminately killing civilian men, women, and children?” Slick said.

  “We were at war. A war declared on us,” Phelps emphasized. “It strikes me as ironic that you Allies do the same but ignore the innocent lives taken.”

  “What do you mean?” Slick asked.

  “Dresden,” Phelps said, acting as if it pained him for the word to leave his lips. “I spoke with my cousin in late February. She was the only survivor from a family of five. Two weeks before, at night, the sirens started. Her family, along with the other one million members of the city, sought refuge in cellars or any place of safety. The bombs rolled in continuous thunder. Nonstop explosions devastated every building in their path. Fire, heat, smoke, no place was safe from the bombs and incendiaries that fell from the sky. The air was thick with dust, so hot it burned to breathe. They had to escape.

  “Once outside, the horrors she described were unimaginable. The buildings were on fire and damaged. Vehicles and carts burned. People and horses cried in pain. Some had flames consuming their body as they ran. Even though all five in her family survived the first raid, three died immediately at the beginning of the second. In that raid, the bombs and incendiaries were bigger. The roads caught fire and became a molten trap for those traveling across it.