They’d been provided with one of the smaller barrack huts as accommodation – one that appeared to have been used by officers prior to the invasion, if the superior level of plumbed fittings and connected electrical power were any indication. It lay quite close to the same small wharf from which Donelson’s motor launch had collected the last of the evacuating wounded the day before. Reuters was inside already as he approached the front door, clearly in deep conversation with Major Hasegawa.
Two guards stood at either side of that doorway, machine pistols slung over their shoulders, and a single glare from one of them was indication enough that he should stay outside for the time being. Choosing discretion over pointless valour, Ritter moved off to one side and instead hovered by one of the nearer open windows, the ongoing, heated discussion within quite audible from his position.
“…It is pointless to continue this discussion…” the major was declaring in German as Ritter drew near, frustration showing through clearly in his tone. “As I have already explained, the general is intent on ensuring your safety during this difficult time. There are significant areas of this island that have not yet been pacified; areas that still have armed bands of Australian troops or rebellious natives roaming about unchecked: the injuries already sustained by your aide should be evidence enough!”
“Your commanding officer has imprisoned us… imprisoned me: Reichsmarschall of the entire Wehrmacht!” Reuters raged, his eyes alight with indignant fury. “You confine us and prevent us from contacting our own headquarters to report. Do you think the Führer will take this lightly? This is an act of war! Do not speak to me of risk! Albert Schiller is a soldier, wounded in action while doing his duty! Every single one of us takes that risk the moment we pull on this uniform: do not dare use him to give credence to these lies…!”
“‘Lies’…?” Hasegawa snapped in return, a sneer tweaking at the edge of his lips. “You have the gall to talk about lies…! Your group has done nothing but lie to us – an ally – since the very moment you arrived! You had no intention of allowing us to keep that bomb, and would have done anything in your power to take it back!” The force of that accusation almost gave Reuters pause for a moment as the extent of the major’s own anger began to show through. “So typical of how you Germans have treated us for so long!”
“Deutschland has always honoured its alliance with Japan!” Reuters snarled back, not about to give ground on that particular subject. “We have trusted you… supported you… supplied you with arms and technology when the rest of the world had turned their back on the Rising Sun!”
“Oh, yes: you’ve supported us…!” Hasegawa spat with venom. “And at what cost was that ‘support’…? For years the Empire has been forced to moulder on the vine… to hold back and champ at the bit while the Greater German Reich expands again and again, building its own glorious European Empire… and trumpeting its superiority to the entire world! For years, Germany has dictated – dictated! – the terms of that so-called support, and that whole time you have endeavoured to stifle us! No more expansion in the East allowed… no war against the American Imperialists, nor even against colonies of that very same broken, shattered Britain that Germany has now conquered.” He released a short, sharp bark of derision. “Empire-building is a ‘whites-only’ activity, it appears… in the eyes of your Führer and the rest of the Western World at least. You’ll excuse me if I’m not entirely surprised by the hypocrisy of it all.”
“It is not too late to back away from this…” Reuters countered, not seeing any likelihood of success heading down that road and looking to change tack. “That weapon should never have been handed over… release us, return it now and place a radio in front of me and I will do what I can to ensure this ‘never happened’.”
“We have detonated one of these bombs on American soil…” Hasegawa pointed out coldly, unconcerned over detail regarding the finer points of US colonialism in Central America. “We have struck at their very heart… shattered their naval forces in the Pacific. Which part of that do you think is ‘not too late’ to take back?” He shook his head and gave a hollow chuckle. “I am Kempetai, Reichsmarschall… I have been made privy to some of the greatest secrets our military possess, and I know where you come from!” That information drew a genuine look of surprise and shock from Reuters. “I also know something of what the Americans did to us in the history of the world you know… do you think for a moment that we would allow that to happen a second time? The first bomb was put to good use… this one will be the father of many more… many more for us to rain down on our enemies and scour them from the face of the earth!
“It is far too late, Herr Reichsmarschall…” he continued in a cold, superior tone. “You will talk to Berlin soon enough – once all this is over – and when that happens, let the cards fall where they may. The Rising Sun wants its Empire in the East just as you and your Führer want your Grossdeutschland in Europe, and we will have our glory, whatever the cost! Do you really think that Hitler will go to war with us also because of this…?” He asked scornfully. “Germany has few enough friends as it is, particularly after the invasion of Britain, and you’re mistaken if you think the rest of the world is happy that Arabian oil fields lay in Nazi hands. I think that your Führer needs all the allies he can find at the moment. If you believe otherwise, perhaps you overestimate your own importance in all of this…”
“Is that what you truly believe…?” Reuters asked, genuinely bewildered by the intensity of the hatred he was feeling from the officer before him. “You would risk everything on this? Do you really believe Germany has wronged all of you so greatly…?”
“This is not something we believe…” Hasegawa spat angrily. “This is something we know to be fact! It has been of great strategic advantage that the Empire allied itself with Germany: the technology and the intelligence benefits alone are almost beyond value. Yet the reality of all this was that we traded with you… traded away access to our bases… access to our supplies in the Indian Ocean and in the Pacific. You took from us everything we knew about shipbuilding and with that went the ability to create the finest warships on earth! And what did you give us in return… really…? Always technology that you yourselves were already done with; that was second-rate even before it arrived at our door! Do you think us so stupid…? So desperate for approval from our great, white ‘masters’ that we should fall and kiss your feet in exchange for the scraps at your table?”
There was the loud, scraping sound of a chair being pushed angrily back.
“This interview is over…” Hasegawa declared curtly. “You will stop harassing my men with pointless demands that you know will never be met. You are at our mercy… I advise you not to forget that. Try anything stupid, and I will make sure you remember…”
Ritter was again waiting at the doorway as the major stormed out, and as the man caught sight of him he halted just for a moment and turned in the pilot’s direction.
“In spite of the obvious hopelessness of your situation here, I suspect your commanding officer harbours some ridiculous thought of trying something stupid regarding the weapon in Kormoran’s hold.” Hasegawa observed angrily, rage clearly still burning behind his eyes, and Ritter’s gaze couldn’t help but stray momentarily across to the huge bulk of the beached freighter, clearly visible in the distance above the lines of huts. “Any attempt to either escape or sabotage that device will get you all killed. End of story. No discussion… no debate... dead… Do you understand what I am saying right now?”
“I do,” Ritter nodded icily, making a valiant attempt at controlling his own temper in that moment.
“Good…” Hasegawa snarled sourly. “At least one verdammt German here seems to have some bloody sense…!” And with that he stalked off toward a waiting jeep, down near the wharf, with the pair of guards in tow.
He watched for a few more seconds before mounting the steps into the hut and turning left into the first room, where the Reichsmarschall still sat at a sma
ll wooden table with just one other chair opposite.
“How is he?” Reuters asked wearily, beckoning with one hand that he should take that empty seat. The older man’s face was haggard and drawn – clearly showing the missed hours of sleep they’d all experienced – and his clothes, the same ones he’d worn now for at least three days, were filthy and stained with dirt and mud and also, inexplicably, with what appeared to be oil of some kind.
“Well enough,” Ritter shrugged as he sat down, leaning back in the chair and regarding his CO with strange eyes. “The doctors performed miracles, it seems. They expect it will be some months before he is completely recovered, but a full recovery is expected…”
“That’s something, at least…” Reuters conceded with a faint nod, noting the man’s unusual expression as he turned to stare out the open window and watch Hasegawa’s jeep drive off in a cloud of dust. Beyond, out across the water, a variety of small Japanese warships cruised this way and that, bathed in an unexpected burst of afternoon sunshine that had followed in the wake of 24 hours of rain-laden grey cloud.
“What of the woman… this ‘Donelson’…?” Ritter ventured carefully.
“They’ve given her the hut adjacent to ours…” Reuters shrugged, not sounding as if he cared all that much. “Haven’t seen her since they brought us in…” He almost gave a wry smile at that moment, adding: “I suspect she’s not got any desire to have much to do with us, and I’ve made sure our boys at least know to keep away from her also…”
“Mein Herr…” Ritter began hesitantly, changing the subject and not entirely sure how to proceed. “…Generaloberst Schiller told me something while we were talking…”
“Something interesting, it seems… and possible sensitive in nature, judging by how ill at ease you suddenly appear…” Reuters observed, his face an impassive mask as he regarded the man with fathomless eyes.
“It… ahh… it would seem an impossible tale, were it not for the certainty with which it was recounted…” ...” he continued, choosing his words with extreme care: adding any embellishment to Schiller’s original story might bring awkward questions he would find difficult to answer.
“Go on, Carl…”
“It concerns me now that perhaps he is shell-shocked… perhaps even insane. What he told me… well… it sounded like something from a Lang movie…”
“I was always quite fond of Metropolis, actually,” Reuters quipped, almost affecting a light tone as his own apprehension built dramatically. “Not sure that it would do, however, for either of us to be referencing works of a Jewish film maker…” he added, making a poor attempt at humour. “I should watch that back in Berlin…”
“He claimed you were both from the future…!” Ritter blurted, the thoughtless ‘Jewish’ remark spiking his conscience and his courage in that order. “He claimed that both of you – and many others currently serving the Fatherland – have originally come from fifty years in the future…” He attempted to keep his tone one of scepticism, as if he thought Schiller might’ve been delirious at the time.
“Closer to sixty, actually...” Reuters corrected with a thin, tired smile. He was not at all pleased that the revelation had been made, but saw no point now in further denial. “What you have been told is correct, although I am, of course, unable to provide any proof of this under these present circumstances...”
“I think that I almost believe you.” Ritter conceded, leaning forward. “There have been so many wonderful advances in technology and weaponry… perhaps too many to be explained away by claims of Nazi prowess and Aryan superiority.” He stifled a mischievous smirk and decided it was safe enough to add: “So much ‘simpler’ to think of it all as the stuff of the future, thinking of it in hindsight…” That he received a faint wince of displeasure over the mention of that last word was victory enough. “Could it be that this devastating bomb you are concerned about comes also from the future?” He continued seriously, deciding it best to stay on safer ground from now on.
“I’ve never doubted your powers of deduction, Carl…” Reuters conceded, giving a thin smile in recognition of the man’s accurate assumptions “…Although you’d be surprised how much of what we have today was invented just in the five or ten years that followed the end of this war… the end, at least, that came in my history of the world…”
“Why…?” It was the only thing Ritter could think of to ask next, and it was the question he most genuinely wanted to hear Reuters’ answer to at that moment. He already knew the answer from the Allies’ perspective, but he suddenly hoped beyond hope there might be at least some tiny speck of justification; some small hint of logic behind it all from his own side. Reality however told him it was unlikely in the extreme that he would get an honest answer, and he was unfortunately not proven wrong.
“Although Deutschland was ultimately victorious,” Reuters began carefully, taking great pains to show nothing of the nervousness he felt in the giving of that lie, “the terrible cost in terms of human life was immense… far too great to bear…” That at least was true enough on both sides, although he was still forced to search for more falsehoods to back his story. “Despite our eventual, crushing victory against the Allies, the newly discovered invention of time travel enabled us to return to this era and dramatically reduce the cost of this war to the German people.”
He hoped desperately that the lies seemed feasible, and indeed the younger man seemed to accept the answer without difficulty. Had Reuters’ mind been more objective in its approach, rather than feeling almost overwhelmed by the discomfort lying to his own, unknowing father, he might’ve questioned the readiness with which the younger man took in every detail, nodding thoughtfully and asking the occasional question here and there. No such suspicion occurred to him however, and as he continued his partially-manufactured tale, his captive audience was more than willing to listen.
“We were not alone, however,” Reuters continued, allowing some honest displeasure to creep into his tone. “Our enemies… the last, dying remnants of a failed resistance… managed to steal the plans for this technology in an attempt to use that information against us…” Hiding a sudden urge to smile, he gave a silent moment of thanks to Star Wars for supplying the idea behind that small piece of untruth. “We are not the only ones who have returned to this era,” he went on, quickly becoming serious once more.
“Captain Donelson…!” Ritter exclaimed, almost forgetting himself for a moment and forced to rein back his excitement. “Donelson, and that man that Albert has often mentioned…” he added, pretending to think hard about it “…Thorne…! They too are from the future?”
“Excellent deduction once again, my friend: they are part of the rather ironically-named Hindsight unit you may have heard mention of, and they have been the bane of my existence since they appeared over the skies of England… oh, two and a half years ago now. Donelson, as far as we can determine, is their chief technical officer, and as you can possibly imagine, allowing the Japanese to extract what she knows might well make them unbeatable…!”
“They will take her back to Japan?”
“I’ve no doubt their intention is to take all of us…” Reuters paused then, swallowing nervously as another, far more pressing issue shouldered its way to the forefront of his consciousness once more. “That, however is the least of our problems at this moment…”
“Sir, what does that mean?” Ritter asked sharply, immediately filled with concern as he picked up the change in his CO’s body language.
“Look out there, Carl…” Reuters suggested, raising a hand and pointing out toward the bay toward the open window. “You see that aircraft out there…?” He asked pointedly, indicating a huge flying boat moored a dozen yards or so off the nearby wharf.
“Kawanishi H8K…” Ritter remarked automatically, not able to help himself. “American reporting name of ‘Emily’, I believe…”
“Alright, alright… bloody angeber…!” Reuters muttered with a wry smile. “That flyi
ng boat out there was supposed to be our ride back to Palau. We were supposed to be on that plane this afternoon and away from this stinking, verdammt island!”
“Correct on all counts, Mein Herr,” Ritter replied with an equally dry tone. “This, we already knew, mostly due to the fact that you have made mention of it numerous times since we were brought in here last night.”
“Klugscheisser…” Reuters snorted, his smile suddenly becoming thin and humourless as he gave a frustrated wave of his hand. “Laugh if you want, Herr Oberst, but if we’re not off this bloody island by noon tomorrow, neither you, me, Albert nor that Schottisch bitch next door will get anywhere near Tokyo…or anywhere bloody else for that matter…!”
It was the way the words had been uttered… the dark, acerbic tone that had accompanied them that truly made Ritter sit up and listen at that moment. Dry humour seemed to have dissipated, to be replaced by a cold resignation that didn’t sit well with the man Ritter knew as Kurt Reuters.
“What have you done…?” He breathed softly, inexplicably so unnerved now that he was almost unable to ask the question at all.
“So sure this was my doing?” There was sorrow there now, but there was guilt and self-loathing in those words too. “And yet you are right again,” the Reichsmarschall admitted finally.
“What have you done…?”
“What I had to do…!” Reuters hissed, his words similarly hushed. “We were to leave today…! Scheduled to leave and be far away from this place! How could I – how could anyone – imagine these treacherous bastards would dare hold us like this?”
“Mein Herr…!” Ritter warned, anger rising now with his fear as frustration built over the man’s inability to get to the point.
“It has two triggers, Carl!” He blurted suddenly, hands shaking now as he wrung them together in front of him. “Hegel and his men: they built it well, damn them! They built it to be used…! It – it has a primary ignition switch…” he continued, words faltering now as the true admission of guilt began to come out. “A simple thing: charge the battery, turn the knob… press the button when it turns green. They told me all this as we tortured them for information…” He lowered his eyes now, unable to meet Ritter’s gaze, and the pilot suddenly realised how truly old and frail the Reichsmarschall actually seemed.
The Dead Alone (Empires Lost Book 3) Page 92