Occupation

by Jeff L. Dawson

  "Poor Colonel Eckhardt. He should have stayed home with the other good little German boys and girls."

  Himmler was not pleased with Nikoli's comments and called for the guards. The men burst into the room with rifles and machine pistols ready. But instead of meeting the local peasants they had delivered, they were met by men whose eyes were full of flame and fire. Kirilli took the first guard who entered saving the next one for Nikoli. The men were disarmed and then, one by one, picked up like feathers and hurled through the air. Their bodies broke and splintered as they came in contact with the hard immaculate stone walls.

  Himmler, Heidrick, and the doctor, were speechless as they listened to the sounds of bones cracking and splintering as the bodies impacted the wall and crumpled to the floor. There was another sound in the room none of them were familiar with, like small branches breaking off. The three turned towards the prisoners in shock. The peasants of Southern Poland were in the midst of a transformation. The bones of their faces were starting to rearrange. Saliva was pouring out of their mouths. Fire was welling up deep in their eyes. Their skin was turning into a rough hide. Their hair was turning long and coarse. Each man could feel a heavy release of adrenaline. Heart rates were accelerating. Heidrick reached for his revolver, but before his hand could even touch the holster, the right hand of Nikoli's met his and crushed it with ease. Heidrick dropped to the floor in excruciating pain. What once was his hand, was nothing more than a useless piece of flesh showing bone and blood. He would never fire a weapon with that hand again.

  "Herr Himmler,” mused Kirilli, "did the Druids tell you about us?" Kirilli's voice was guttural but understandable. "Did your search parties find any evidence of us?" Himmler could only muster a few words.

  "Von DerGraff, do something."

  "I'm afraid General Von DerGraff can only not help you, he cannot help himself." It was true. Von DerGraff was showing the same symptoms Eckhardt had just displayed.

  "Doctor, help him, help him doctor."

  The doctor was locked in fear. There was nothing he could do, as the general started screaming, with his hands clasped tightly around his head begging for mercy and help.

  "Herr Himmler," gritted Nikoli with a smile. "Like what you see?"

  Himmler could not take his eyes off Von DerGraff. The general had fallen to his knees screaming in pain. His cries were echoing around the room and filling the anteroom where the guards had been stationed before coming in to provide assistance. Von DerGraff's screams had eclipsed those of Colonel Eckhart’s. Steam slowly started escaping from his ears as the bacteria did its work overheating and melting what at one time had been a brain full of the Third Reich's teachings.

  "What is going on in here?" The corporal had heard the screaming and was now standing in the doorway reaching for his Luger. His eyes darted around the room looking for the peasant prisoners he had delivered half an hour ago. Instead of finding the prisoners, he was looking into the eyes of monsters. The man to his left was only recognizable by the clothes he was wearing. The word peasant came from his quivering lips. The man turned towards him with an evil smile and teeth that resembled razors. Before he could raise his pistol in anger, the creature grabbed his neck with his left hand, digging its talons deep into his throat without severing the spinal cord or major arteries. Nikoli pulled him close to his face and repeated the words.

  "Peasant?" He flashed his fangs of life and thrust them into the corporal's neck.

  Von DerGraff was reeling with pain. His eyelids opened as if to relieve the building pressure in his skull. The eyeballs poured out in globs, splashing on the fine Persian carpet. His hands were locked in a death grip pushing at his skull. Large clumps of gray matter oozed and leaked out of his ears, mouth and eye sockets. The material gave off a sickening sound as it dropped and plunked on the floor. Thick, black, steaming blood flowed from the thousands of capillaries unable to hold in the overheated blood.

  Nikoli sucked two liters out of Corporal Gunther and then dashed the lifeless body against the well-kept, neat desk. The body exploded as it impacted the thick desk leg, splattering blood on Himmler's uniform.

  Von DerGraff's body became nothing more than a crumpled mass of flesh. The only sign a head and face once occupied the body, was the hair stuck in the fingers that had pushed deep into the empty void where the brain had once resided.

  It was now Kirilli's turn. He approached the whimpering Heidrick, raised him off the floor, flashed his steely fangs, and thrust them into the thick neck of the once proud general. Heidrick wanted to scream but his vocal chords and windpipe had been silenced.

  Nikoli stood between Himmler and the doctor as Kirilli drove the point home, leave or die, as he feasted on the once proud and arrogant General's blood. After satisfying himself with 2.5 liters, he inhaled deeply, and then forced half a liter of the mixed blood back into the body. He was weak from the infusion but stood his ground.

  "Herr Himmler, you have a choice," came the rasping words from Kirilli's blood soaked face. "You can join your comrades lying on the floor or you will pull your troops out of Southern Poland. If you choose to fight us, you will die here. We have spent the last six months infecting many of your beloved troops; they are now awaiting us to issue the orders to attack and destroy many more of your soldiers. You have seen what we are capable of. We have seen what your "master race" is capable of. Who do you think is the superior race now, Herr Reichsfuehrer?"

  Himmler was pale as a ghost. The sight of two of his most trusted officers melting before his eyes, was a message he could not ignore. The power these two men displayed had triggered his innermost thoughts of evil. In an attempt to gain his composure he squeezed a few words from his lipless mouth.

  "Gentlemen, surely we can come to an understanding. With our plans and your weapons of destruction, I believe we can do business."

  Kirilli looked at Nikoli and motioned his right hand into a fist. Instinctively, Nikoli grabbed the doctor, pulled him close to Himmler, placed his right hand around the doctor's neck and squeezed hard. The doctor’s head popped off in a second, showering the men with blood and gore.

  "Herr Himmler, does that answer your question?" The sight of the doctor's head popping off his body like a cork coming out of a bottle, was more than even he could handle.

  "What do you want? Anything. I will make it happen."

  "Simple," said Kirilli. "Return the human cargo that was transported out of the Krakow-Tarnow-Siepraw area and remove your troops immediately. You will also provide us letters of passage back home with no interference and fresh clothes."

  Himmler said nothing. He took a seat at his table, pulled out some fresh white paper, scribbled out an order with a shaky hand, signed it, and placed a seal authenticating his signature. He then picked up the phone and issued an order for new clothes to be left outside the doors of the anteroom.

  Nikoli and Kirilli started changing back very gradually. They didn't expect any trouble from Herr Himmler, but caution had served them well over the last months. No need to throw caution to the wind. They were still deep in enemy territory. Five minutes passed and Himmler's phone rang. He answered, spoke a few words and hung up.

  "The clothes you requested are here. I hope they fit. You came in as peasants but will leave as generals of the SS. I assure you, no one will harass you on your journey home."

  Nikoli couldn't resist the last vestige of Himmler's persona. "Herr Reichsfuehrer, if you forget the unpleasantries you witnessed today, in ninety days or less, General Heidrick will be a good reminder."

  Himmler nodded in agreement. The men retrieved the new clothes and changed. They admired each other as they finished dressing. The attire certainly was sharp and imposing. A perfect military uniform.

  "Nikoli, you don't make a bad looking German."

  "Kirilli, my friend, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were Der Fuhrer, Adolf Hitler himself."

  The men had a good laugh. The first one since the melding had taken place. A low murm
ur was heard from the small chicken farmer sitting behind his desk.

  "Something you'd like to add Herr Himmler?" growled Nikoli.

  "No gentlemen, not at all. Have a safe journey home."

  "Nikoli, it is time we left this place. Our work here is done. Oh, Herr Himmler, one other thing. If you do not adhere to our agreement, there are more of us to worry about." With that, both men exited the room, knowing that if Herr Himmler heeded not their warning, the consequences would indeed be dire.

  Himmler waited a few minutes before making a few calls. The first one was to the guards of the castle with explicit orders not to interfere with his guests, and for four guards to come to his office immediately. The second was to the airfield at Paderborn making sure a plane was fully fueled, warmed, and ready for take-off. The third, and most terrifying call was to Der Fuhrer, Adolf Hitler. He wasn't sure how he was going to convince his leader that they needed to transfer the occupation troops to a more important sector, but it had to happen. The phone rang three times before Hitler's aide answered it.

  "Jawohl, Herr Reichsfuehrer, let me see if he is available. They are planning the final stages of Barbarossa and he may not be available." A few minutes passed as Himmler tried to find the correct words.

  "What is it, Heinrich? I am very busy," screeched the voice on the other end.

  "Mein Fuehrer, we have a problem in Southern Poland of great urgency. Our plans for relocation have worked all too well. Timber production has fallen by half and the wheat harvest was even worse. We need to relocate some of the old inhabitants back to their homes."

  "Heinrich, I have no time for your miniscule problems. If you cannot handle the duties assigned, you will be replaced."

  The receiver went dead. He would now be able to abide by the agreement he had just struck without Berlin taking notice. He hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and looked up. Four guards were standing in the open doorway surveying the gruesome sight before them.

  "Dispose of the bodies immediately. None of you will say a word about what you have seen here today. If you do, you will become a resident of the castle, permanently. One other item, take General Heidrick and have him placed in one of the lower rooms. I fear he might become quite ill."

  Chapter 22

  Berlin

  The phone call could not have come at a more inopportune time for Der Fuehrer. Adolf had been in a very heated argument with Generals Guderian, Braustish, and Keitel over the upcoming battle plans. The Generals were highly skeptical that their armed forces were capable of taking on such an ambitious plan. Operation "Barbarossa" would be the largest land campaign ever attempted by any nation to date. Three million men were being poised over a 1,200 kilometer front to strike the Russians. Even Herman Goering, the once unflappable leader of the Luftwaffe, had deep concerns of providing enough planes and experienced pilots for such an ambitious plan. His air force was still licking its wounds from the failure to destroy the BEF (British Expeditionary Force) at Dunkirk and now was reeling from the losses over the skies of Great Britain. But Hitler still had faith in his old friend and convinced him the battle would last only one summer. There would be plenty of time to regroup, rebuild, and retrain new pilots. Russia would collapse in six weeks and then they could return their attention to the west. Goering, like the others, wasn't so sure about his fuehrer's words, but as long as he retained favor with the man, he chose to go along and perform as instructed.

  "Why is it that people I place in charge are incapable of making their own decisions?" spewed Hitler. "Doesn't that simpleton understand that the Third Reich is on the threshold of a great victory for the world? The defeat, destruction, and elimination of communism will be deemed by the entire world as a true victory for all of mankind. We, as a nation, will remove the shackles from all of Eastern Europe, and the lands that have been infected by Trotsky, Lenin, and Stalin will be wiped off the face of the Earth. We will be revered as great liberators."

  The rant was one of many the staff had become accustomed to over the past years. But this one had a different flavor. Hitler was for the first time openly challenging one of his own.

  "Why did I ever place Himmler in such a high office? Was there no one more qualified to carry out the simple orders of occupation? I could have chosen anyone, instead I gave the job to him. I should have left him only in charge of my personal bodyguards. His mind is not able to think as broad or in depth as mine."

  "Mein Fuehrer. What is Himmler's problem that has you so concerned?" queried Goering.

  "The fool has some irrelevant issues with a few partisans from Poland. What are a few when we are going to liberate millions? When this campaign is over, I shall rethink Herr Himmler's post. Yes, I will rethink his position. Now, where were we before the call?"

  Braustish spoke up, "A date Mein Fuehrer, what date shall we set the wheels of history in motion."

  "Yes, what date indeed? The preparations are almost in place. Reports from the patrols say the Russians are sleeping. The forces from Greece will be in place in two weeks?"

  Braustish nodded in agreement.

  "The air force and support personnel are ready?"

  Goering nodded in agreement.

  "The proper amount of food, supplies and ammunition are ready for the campaign?"

  Keitel nodded in agreement.

  "The panzer forces are primed and ready for the advance east?"

  Guderian did not acknowledge.

  "Heinz, the panzer forces and mechanized troops are ready for the initial breakthroughs and exploitations?”

  Again, no response. Guderian only stared at the map of Russia. He knew this campaign would make all others seem so miniscule in scope.

  "General Guderian, I am waiting," roared Hitler.

  The other men stepped back from the table. Guderian, a man of military knowledge, the architect of the newly formed panzer armored divisions. His knowledge of warfare and tactics had been proven to be well thought out and implemented. Now he was balking at rubber stamping the new venture. His knowledge and wisdom had served him well, but looking at the map sprawled out before him, the operation was more than even he could envision. He felt he was looking at an abyss with no return.

  "Mein Fuehrer, I just don't know. I am convinced the troops are ready and willing for the task, but I fear we are undertaking more than we are capable of properly handling"

  Hitler was not pleased with the response, but he wasn't ready to attack the man who had modernized the army, at least not yet. "General, you have been under enormous stress and have performed admirably, as have your troops. You should consider taking a long leave-of-absence after we have achieved our great victory."

  The words were hollow to Guderian. The other men were smiling and agreeing with their Fuehrer.

  Fools. They have no idea what we are embarking on! I only hope the victory is quick. A long campaign cannot be sustained. "Yes, Mein Fuehrer, we are ready to strike; as mentioned, everything will be in place and ready for execution by the middle of June."

  Hitler detected the animosity and unsureness in his words. But with a clap on the back and the smile that vaulted him to power, he picked the date.

  "Gentlemen, based on what has been discussed, we shall begin the downfall of Bolshevism on June 22." The meeting ended. Hitler excused himself, feeling confident that his plans were in full swing, and victory was only a few short months away in the east so he could turn the full weight of his "Thousand year Reich" back on England.

  * * *

  Himmler had called for another plane to be readied for him alone, at Paderborn. He needed to see Hitler posthaste. It was evident by the phone conversation that The Fuehrer had more pressing problems concerning the upcoming invasion, but he must be informed of the events that had just occurred. Hitler would easily shrug them off over the phone. In person, if his mood was right, he would be more accommodating to listen to the events.

  Within an hour he was being winged to Berlin. His arrival would be shortly after 7:00 in th
e evening. Hitler had been known to retire before 9:00 depending on how many meetings were held in a day. Since he had chosen to invade Russia, his days were full of briefings and reports. Himmler knew he would have to pick his words carefully. Adolf would not be interested in grandstanding or tales of the occult. The only proof he held was locked in a cellar deep in the bowels of Wewelsburg castle. If he had heard correctly, it would be months before General Heidrick would show any symptoms.

  The car pulled up to the bunker entrance Hitler had specially built to conduct the war. He was still trying to formulate his thoughts as he descended into the heavily guarded residence. No money had been lavished on the structure. The walls and floors were cold, hard concrete. The lighting was sufficient but not illuminating. The only portraits displayed were those of His Fuehrer taken at one of many rallies they had both attended.

  "Herr Himmler, papers please," asked the guard seated behind the metal desk. Without hesitation he produced them. Any other time he would have tongue lashed someone, but this private worked for his Fuehrer. Questioning him would be questioning Adolf. After a cursory examination the private returned the documents.

  "Herr Reichsfuehrer, you do not have an appointment. What business do you have with The Fuehrer? He just returned from dinner and is quite tired from his meetings."

  "I need to finalize the plans for the security forces for the glorious invasion." Himmler had chosen his words well. He was not known for eloquence in languages or speeches, but being close to Hitler all these years had sharpened his understanding of the spoken word.

  The private moved down the hall and entered a steel door, apparently a bombproof structure. Within a few minutes the private returned.