Prehistoric WWII

by Dane Hatchell

  “Then the winds started. Air sucking from all around her to feed the column of flame growing at the center of the massive inferno. The vacuum created to feed the fiery storm stole my cousin’s four-year-old daughter—ripping her tiny fingers from her desperate grasp. My cousin, too, might have suffered the same fate, save for two men who grabbed her at the last moment and pulled her to the safety of the Elbe River.”

  Phelps paused, and said, “Dresden was a cherished city, a cultural and historical treasure. The city possessed no military value, full of artists and craftsmen, and with no anti-aircraft defense. The Allies dare not judge themselves by the same measurement they judge the sons of Germany. My cousin tells me the number of dead is estimated at one-half million.”

  Phelps sounded like a man trying to justify his pursuit of a lost dream only to realize that pursuit cost him far more than he ever hoped to gain. He didn’t seem to be an evil man. Brazo couldn’t blame him for loving his country and didn’t know why Dresden was hit so hard with the war in Europe so close to coming to an end. Mistakes were sure to be made by both sides. Dresden may not have been a mistake. History would have to be the judge of that.

  “War is Hell,” Jim Stone said.

  “War does not determine who is right—only who is left,” Brazo said. “Let’s get some rest and hope the new day shows us a way out of here.”

  The men rubbed the wrinkles from their blankets and lay their bodies down, shifting against the earth underneath to find comfort.

  Chapter 21

  The boat drifted early morning on a lazy lake. Sugar-like snow sprinkled the mountain tops on the horizon. Erik watched as his father diligently waited for a fish to strike at his bait.

  Turning his head, Christoph said, “You are not going to catch any fish if your hook does not go into the water.”

  Strangely, Erik felt like he was in a moment of time he had visited before. “I do not like to fish. I can fish all day and not catch anything. There are fish at the market. It seems it would be better to buy fish and use the time saved to do other things.”

  “Ah, you have always had a logical mind. You are missing out on important lessons in life if you only focus on end results.”

  “Lessons in life? What do you mean?”

  “Erik, I know you do not like to fish. I insist on taking you to teach you things.”

  “It did not take me long to learn how to wind fishing line on a spool and how to bait a hook. Luring fish is more difficult, but there is little to learn about fishing.”

  Christoph smiled in a way he always did when he was about to give instruction. “When we go fishing, it is not about catching fish.”

  Erik thought that was one of the stupidest things to ever come out of his father’s mouth. “We fish for fish. How is it not about catching fish?”

  “Fishing, like life, is about the process. You are young, and youth tends to want an immediate reward. The seeds of wisdom are slow growing. The first lesson that fishing teaches is patience. A philosopher once said, all things come to he who waits. Patience is not one of your gifts in life. Learning to fish—spending the time to choose the proper bait, tying a knot to keep the hook secure, and tricking the fish into taking the bait teaches that rewards in life come from patience and commitment. Do you understand?”

  He did, thinking back on his father’s efforts and the big fish he watched him catch over the years. “What other life lessons does fishing teach beside patience?”

  “Fishing teaches you to be resourceful. If one bait does not work, you must try another. You must use reasoning—the time of day, the time of the year, the weather around you, all factor in. Catching fish, like hunting, also teaches you to be self-sufficient. You can feed yourself and your family. Do you see how you can apply these steps to other challenges that you find in life?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “With fishing, you can be alone with your thoughts. Contemplate your position in the universe. Commune with nature in solitude. Or, you can fish with others, strengthen the bond of friendship. You do know why we release fish that are too small to keep?”

  “Yes, so that they will grow bigger to catch another day.”

  “If you were starving, you would eat a fish of any size. If the situation allows, then you make investments for the future. You must treat any business you deal with like an investment. Your schooling is an investment. The knowledge that you learn will one day be applied to a job that will pay you wages. The more you learn, the greater wages you will earn. Whereas learning in life never stops, it is important that your foundation is developed in your youth. Be all you can be, my son. Do not let life’s distractions or the interference of others steer you away from your objectives.”

  Erik felt like the walls he had built around life had fallen, and a whole new world was open before him. It was as if he now saw life through his father’s eyes.

  “The day will come when you will be a man. I will not be on this Earth forever. I only want to help you become the best man you can be. Erik, son, I love you.”

  “I love you too, Father.”

  “Just wait until you get a little older,” Christoph said, a sly smile growing across his lips. “You will learn how to lure the girls into your arms like a hungry fish.”

  Erik giggled at the thought of dropping a line and hook next Lina Engels, a schoolmate with long golden curls.

  “Goodbye, my son.” Christoph’s smile faded, and his expression went blank.

  Confused, Erik said, “Goodbye? But—” His father disappeared in a blink. Erik reached out into empty air and frantically looked about. The water was calm, but his father was gone, like he had never been there.

  Something tapped him on the shoulder, and his mind pulled him from the dream back to reality.

  *

  “Erik…wake up, son.”

  The fog of sleep lifted, and Erik became aware of the early glow of dawn. At first, he had thought his father had spoken to him—because he heard the word son. But the voice was not his father’s, and the words spoken in native English.

  Christoph was lying next to him. Erik reached over and touched his father’s hand. The hand felt strangely cool and the fingers stiff.

  “Erik?”

  The boy turned and saw the man called Stone sitting by his side, his hand resting on Erik’s left shoulder.

  “Your dad…your father passed away last night,” Stone said. “I’m sorry.”

  His elbows on the blanket, he slowly propped himself up. His father looked like he was resting, with eyes closed, and a peaceful expression on his face. At first, Erik almost cried out in denial, but then a moment from his dream called back to him. I will not be on this Earth forever.

  Erik knew his father would die one day. Everyone dies, but he did not expect to lose his father now, not like this.

  “It happened just a few minutes ago. He…stopped breathing. I don’t believe he suffered. That’s something to be thankful for,” Stone said.

  Seeing his father with life no longer flowing through him was surreal. The body reminded him of a wax figure with a distinct separation of those of the living. Erik wondered now about the mysterious force called life and how it energized the human shell. But he would have to pursue his curiosities later.

  He was alone. His mother and father, gone.

  The day will come when you will be a man, his father had said in the dream.

  Goodbye, my son.

  “Goodbye, Father,” Erik said softly and wiped a tear forming in his left eye.

  “We’ll bury him, and I’ll say a few words to honor his memory, if that’s okay,” Stone said.

  “I would like that,” Erik said. “I will find something to make a marker.” The boy rose and worked out the soreness in his body sleeping on the ground had brought. Giving one last look before he ventured forth, he thought, that is just a body. My father is no longer there.

  *

  Captain Brazo did his best to keep the remaining crew focused. He
, Slick, and Phelps helped Jim Stone bury the commander. The other four crewmen kept their distance and didn’t attend the short ceremony afterward. He couldn’t blame his men. Giving homage to the enemy border-lined treason in some minds. If it wouldn’t have been for the boy, Erik, Christoph would have been left to feed the scavengers. Not out of spite, but because resources, and energy was a resource, had to be conserved.

  Erik had shown little emotion at the ceremony. Brazo thought if his father had died and he was the age of Erik, that he would have cried like a baby. Perhaps the tumultuous conditions in Europe over the years had hardened the youths. Erik did seem to lack a certain innocence American boys displayed. There was no telling what Hitler had done to brainwash the populace.

  Artur Phelps didn’t initiate conversation and kept his distance from the Americans. Maybe he was afraid to start an argument that might get out of control. Being the only U-boat crewman and allowed to carry a weapon was a privilege he was sure not to jeopardize.

  Jim Stone shadowed Erik the last two hours as the survivors hiked to the peak of the high point.

  The faint smell of briny ocean air invigorated Brazo’s nostrils as they neared the top. He wasn’t sure what was on the other side and didn’t expect much. Looking out from higher ground gave them no advantage at this point. In any direction, the land looked essentially the same. Trees and foliage. Hills, mountains in the distance, flatlands, but nothing resembling civilization. No skyscrapers, smokestacks, or primitive villages cleared among the jungle. They were going to reach the last mission he had created to offer hope, and then what? Find nothing but an endless open sea? What do they do then? Turn around and head back down? Go where? Find the next pack of hungry dinosaurs, sprinkle salt all over themselves, and say, come and get it?

  Rodrigue and Wallace were the first to reach the summit. Brazo watched their heads turn from side to side, but nothing caught their attention enough for them to show excitement. He wasn’t surprised and felt stupid for feeling somewhat disappointed. There was no Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, or Tooth Fairy. There wouldn’t be a way off this accursed place either.

  Alan Slick came to his side as the rest of the group caught up with Rodrigue and Wallace. The terrain sloped downward near the same pitch as the side they had climbed, all the way to the ocean. The coast below them had a U-shaped indention. But as Brazo looked out to sea, a group of greenish clouds hovering above the water had his eyes widening.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Brazo said.

  Slick paused, and said, “It sure looks like it.”

  The storm that had brought them here, or one like it, it was there, not far away at all. Could it bring them back to 1945? Was this another wild hope induced by the madness of the situation? There was no Santa Claus! he reminded himself. But maybe, maybe this would be a one in a million chance to make it back to their time.

  “Is that the storm that took us from our time?” Adam Rodrigue asked.

  “Can’t be sure,” Brazo said.

  “So what? It’s already done its damage,” Bob Brown said.

  “The captain and I think that if the storm had the power to bring us here, it might have the power to bring us back home,” Slick said.

  “That true, Captain?” Bill Sanders said, his big, puppy dog eyes searched for a thread of hope to grasp.

  “You can call it a hunch. You can call it wishful thinking. I could prove to be the biggest fool that ever lived,” he said and shrugged. “If I have to choose between waiting in this land to become food in a dinosaur’s stomach, or taking a chance of the storm bringing us back home, I’m going for the later.”

  “Do you think the storm might move over here to land?” Hampton Wallace asked.

  “Unknown. We aren’t sure how long that thing out there is going to last, either,” Brazo said.

  “Hmm, lot of good that’s going to do us,” Brown said. “It’s going to take hours for us to get down to shore, and then what? Swim the mile or so to it? We’ll all get eaten or drown way before we get to it. Even if we make it that far, it’s just a storm. We’ll be out there treading water for nothing.”

  “You’re welcome to stay behind,” Brazo said. He looked about. “We need to build a raft and try and make our way to it. If anyone doesn’t want to take the risk, you are most welcome to stay here.”

  “I ain’t staying here,” Rodrigue said.

  “Me neither,” Wallace said.

  “I will go,” Phelps said.

  Brown shot Phelps a scowl.

  “Look at the ocean! It’s falling,” Erik said. The boy had been gazing toward the water.

  Brazo had assumed Erik was lost in thought, grieving over his dad’s death. Sure enough, though, the tide was moving out. Rapidly!

  “Look at that,” Slick said, and his bottom jaw sagged.

  A dead tree floating near the coast rushed from the shoreline toward the green storm at sea. The water level drained while they were watching, almost as if someone had pulled the plug in a bathroom tub. Brazo estimated that the shoreline had moved fifty feet when the low tide rolled out!

  “Unbelievable. I’ve never seen the tide move so quick and the water level drop that much,” Brazo said.

  “Captain, if we can build rafts by morning, we can wait for the tide to go out and ride toward the storm,” Slick said.

  Yes. An unimaginable opportunity had presented itself. Brazo looked up to the sky, hoping to find some confirmation that the Almighty had a plan, and all they had to do was seize upon it. But only the greenish fog beckoned below, with electrical sprites and fairies dancing in the mist.

  “A gambling man wouldn’t take the odds of our survival,” Brazo said. “But a desperate man will take desperate measures to save his life and the lives of others. Men, this may be our last hurrah, so we’ll have to give it all that we’ve got.”

  “What does last hurrah mean?” Phelps asked.

  “It means that the attempt to reach the storm might be the last thing we ever do on this Earth,” Slick said.

  “Ah, yes. This may be our last hurrah,” Phelps said. “I will do all that I can for us to be successful.”

  “I hope you make it there with us, buddy,” Brown said, his compassion totally out of character.

  Phelps gave him a wary eye.

  “Because I can’t wait until you get a firsthand look at a United States prison from the inside. Bread and water. Water and bread. God bless America,” Brown said and then smirked.

  “Brown, shut your trap. We’re all in this together, right now,” Brazo said.

  “Yes, sir,” Brown said and lowered his head.

  “Okay, men, the trip will be easier because it’s all downhill. Watch your step and watch out for each other,” Brazo said, capturing Brown’s gaze. “Erik, stay close to Stone. Let’s go.”

  *

  Artur Phelps held the two pieces of bamboo securely as Slick tied a clove hitch knot. From there, the XO carefully wrapped the rope around a cross join, going over and under—and keeping the rope tight.

  The two had just begun the base construction of the second raft. The captain had insisted on cutting the bamboo. The other crewmen were on watch or gathering materials.

  “That is a nice knot you tie,” Phelps said. “Have you built rafts before?”

  “A long time ago, back when I was a kid. I spent every spare moment I could on or by the water,” Slick said. “I even carved a boat out of a fallen tree one time. It took me two months, but it floated just fine.”

  Something had been weighing on the XO’s mind ever since Phelps made his comment about the Aryan race. He tried to let it go and not cause any conflict. But the longer they worked together, the more pronounced his agitation had become. “Phelps, last night, you said something. How you are part of the Aryan race and how you wanted to be a separate people. Do you really believe that one breed of people is inherently superior to others?”

  “There are many primitive people in the world. Do you not believe that you are the
ir superior?”

  “Well, I guess you could say that I feel superior to uneducated people—like Bush People living in grass huts with dirt floors. But people of any race can be educated. Humans are equal like that.”

  “But a pure line of breeding can produce superior men and women. You breed animals in the United States in order to create the finest specimens. Why should we not breed people?”

  “Are you serious? People aren’t like animals. Men and women meet and fall in love. Having children is a blend of their love. A factory might be able to spit out blond hair, blue-eyed dolls, but men and women should never be used as factories,” Slick said. “Another thing, the Jews have lived in Germany for centuries. How is the so-called Aryan race heritage any greater than theirs?”

  “The Jews held to their religious ways, separating them from us. Jewish bankers enslaved the people of Germany. The Aryan race is superior to any other. Hitler had a solution, and the people followed his leadership,” Phelps said.

  “It’s not all as black and white as you make it sound,” Slick said, tying the last knot. He then took his knife and cut the rope.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Jews and Aryans have lived amongst each other for years. You know, my mother is from Germany. Came over to the States before the Great War.”

  “How would I know that?”

  “Sorry,” Slick said and smirked. “That’s how Americans talk sometime. But yes, my mother did come over here. That makes me half German.”

  Phelps cocked his head to the side, and said, “What is your point?”

  “You know what else? Her maiden name was Phelps.”

  The German narrowed his eyes. “Is that true?”

  “Oh yes, it most certainly is true. Say, do you think we might be related?” Slick asked.