Stupid Luck and Happenstance.
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Part 11 Chapter 103
Chapter One Hundred Three
3rd February, 1936
Wunsdorf-Zossen, Germany
General Manfred von Wolvogle had fought many battles in his long career, now he was facing an enemy that even he could not defeat. Age. He had been stalling for months but now he was looking down the barrel of mandatory retirement. He still thought of himself as that dashing Cavalry Lieutenant from nearly five decades prior. How the Hell had this happened? It was not as he had ever once played it safe in his life. Next week they would make a big ceremony of it but it was clear that the moment that his enemies had been relishing would have come at last, Wolvogle was getting the boot. He was sitting in his office looking out the window. Was there life after the Cavalry?
“If you are going to be okay I’m leaving early today” Esther said “I need to catch the train into Berlin.”
“Business in the city?” Wolvogle asked.
“My daughter’s eighteenth birthday” Esther said “I’m meeting the girls and my sister’s family in Berlin tonight.”
“Sarah, is it? The musician” Wolvogle said “Give her my best.”
“Thank you, Sir” Esther said, Sarah was in the Berlin Philharmonic, a bit more than just a musician but Esther knew that would lost on General Wolvogle “There’s a telegram here for you.”
Then she was gone. Wolvogle looked at the envelope that was sitting on his desk. It was from Wilhelmshaven and he only knew one person who lived there. When he opened it he saw that his assumption was correct.
Going to Norway on a fishing trip next month. Heard you are out of excuses and you must come along this time.
All things change but that didn’t include Wilhelm the Second. That was what retirement was all about, wasn’t it? Spending the next few years doing what he wanted with no excuses. It wasn’t as if his wife or mistress could complain about what he was doing if he was doing with the former Emperor. Wolvogle smiled at the thought. He’d love to see them try.
Jena, Germany
It had taken three years but Peter Holz had finally gotten free from the hospital that had been his assignment for the last three years. The atmosphere around that place was toxic. It was not just because of little things like Dr. Rosen going out of his way to assign Jewish staff to care for a patient that was an obnoxious anti-Semite. Peter himself was amazed that no one had smothered that particular patient, he was such a nuisance.
It was the air of broken lives and lost potential that seemed to be soaked into the very foundation of the building itself.
He had reached a few conclusions about war, even the unscathed survivors were walking wounded. When things happened like a man who had been recognized as a former aviator, a fighter ace, being brought in last Autumn hallucinating because of the effects of alcohol withdrawal and it no longer surprised Peter because he’d seen it dozens of times over.
Now here he was home trying to figure out his next move.
“If only what I did was like this” Peter said looking at his father’s latest work. Dark green leather and gold script, the text was entirely in Swedish a special commission that had come from the government of Sweden.
“How so” Pops said.
“You get a definitive result every time” Peter said “People are messy.”
“It’s because people are messy that you need to be there” Pops said “From the sounds of it you were dealing with the messiest and most broken.”
“That’s one way to look at it” Peter said.
“Let me put this in perspective for you” Pops said as he pulled a box off a shelf “Imagine if all I did was deal with these all day, every day.”
The box was full of books that were too damaged to restore.
“Why do you keep these?” Peter asked.
“Because I find the idea of throwing them away repulsive” Pops said “We’re not so different but you need to find a way to spend some time working on something like those books I’m doing for the Swedes and less time on that which can never be fixed.”
Hohenasperg Prison, Near Stuttgart, Germany
Stoltz was silent for once. For Sauvageot having that ingrate talking at him had been an extra shot of poison that had been added to his incarceration here. It was his memory of the work of Alex Dumas that brought him solace in this Hellish situation, The Count of Monte Cristo in particular. He was in the exact same predicament as Edmond, right down to the sadistic guards and neglect. But unlike Edmond, Sauvageot knew that if he bided his time the moment for escape would come. Over the last few years he’d come to understand his mistake, he’d run far and fast. It had made his actions predictable. Now that he had come to understand that it had made things so very simple. When he got out of this cell he wouldn’t run, instead he would get his revenge in the most terrible manner possible.
3rd February, 1936
Wunsdorf-Zossen, Germany
General Manfred von Wolvogle had fought many battles in his long career, now he was facing an enemy that even he could not defeat. Age. He had been stalling for months but now he was looking down the barrel of mandatory retirement. He still thought of himself as that dashing Cavalry Lieutenant from nearly five decades prior. How the Hell had this happened? It was not as he had ever once played it safe in his life. Next week they would make a big ceremony of it but it was clear that the moment that his enemies had been relishing would have come at last, Wolvogle was getting the boot. He was sitting in his office looking out the window. Was there life after the Cavalry?
“If you are going to be okay I’m leaving early today” Esther said “I need to catch the train into Berlin.”
“Business in the city?” Wolvogle asked.
“My daughter’s eighteenth birthday” Esther said “I’m meeting the girls and my sister’s family in Berlin tonight.”
“Sarah, is it? The musician” Wolvogle said “Give her my best.”
“Thank you, Sir” Esther said, Sarah was in the Berlin Philharmonic, a bit more than just a musician but Esther knew that would lost on General Wolvogle “There’s a telegram here for you.”
Then she was gone. Wolvogle looked at the envelope that was sitting on his desk. It was from Wilhelmshaven and he only knew one person who lived there. When he opened it he saw that his assumption was correct.
Going to Norway on a fishing trip next month. Heard you are out of excuses and you must come along this time.
All things change but that didn’t include Wilhelm the Second. That was what retirement was all about, wasn’t it? Spending the next few years doing what he wanted with no excuses. It wasn’t as if his wife or mistress could complain about what he was doing if he was doing with the former Emperor. Wolvogle smiled at the thought. He’d love to see them try.
Jena, Germany
It had taken three years but Peter Holz had finally gotten free from the hospital that had been his assignment for the last three years. The atmosphere around that place was toxic. It was not just because of little things like Dr. Rosen going out of his way to assign Jewish staff to care for a patient that was an obnoxious anti-Semite. Peter himself was amazed that no one had smothered that particular patient, he was such a nuisance.
It was the air of broken lives and lost potential that seemed to be soaked into the very foundation of the building itself.
He had reached a few conclusions about war, even the unscathed survivors were walking wounded. When things happened like a man who had been recognized as a former aviator, a fighter ace, being brought in last Autumn hallucinating because of the effects of alcohol withdrawal and it no longer surprised Peter because he’d seen it dozens of times over.
Now here he was home trying to figure out his next move.
“If only what I did was like this” Peter said looking at his father’s latest work. Dark green leather and gold script, the text was entirely in Swedish a special commission that had come from the government of Sweden.
“How so” Pops said.
“You get a definitive result every time” Peter said “People are messy.”
“It’s because people are messy that you need to be there” Pops said “From the sounds of it you were dealing with the messiest and most broken.”
“That’s one way to look at it” Peter said.
“Let me put this in perspective for you” Pops said as he pulled a box off a shelf “Imagine if all I did was deal with these all day, every day.”
The box was full of books that were too damaged to restore.
“Why do you keep these?” Peter asked.
“Because I find the idea of throwing them away repulsive” Pops said “We’re not so different but you need to find a way to spend some time working on something like those books I’m doing for the Swedes and less time on that which can never be fixed.”
Hohenasperg Prison, Near Stuttgart, Germany
Stoltz was silent for once. For Sauvageot having that ingrate talking at him had been an extra shot of poison that had been added to his incarceration here. It was his memory of the work of Alex Dumas that brought him solace in this Hellish situation, The Count of Monte Cristo in particular. He was in the exact same predicament as Edmond, right down to the sadistic guards and neglect. But unlike Edmond, Sauvageot knew that if he bided his time the moment for escape would come. Over the last few years he’d come to understand his mistake, he’d run far and fast. It had made his actions predictable. Now that he had come to understand that it had made things so very simple. When he got out of this cell he wouldn’t run, instead he would get his revenge in the most terrible manner possible.
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Very ominous regarding Sauvageot. I have a soft spot for the Frenchman and I hope he gets a chance to get his freedom and exact some revenge of those that tortured him and kept him a prisoner for so many years. It may well fail, but I will wish him luck.
Well, his comparison isn't all that accurate...Edmond was innocent. If he DOES get free, his best bet is to just leave quietly. Involving family of an enemy is what got him here in the first place.
Would it be possible to get a map sometime in the near future? We still don't know all the territorial changes from the Treaty of Paris.
So is the Super Greece Ethnically Homogenous or is there a lot of Turks, Jews, Armenians, Kurds, Circassians and others still mixed up in there?
Loving this whole timeline, keep it up!
Loving this whole timeline, keep it up!
I have a few questions regarding this map:
Why is Vienna a part of Bohemia? It meanies very little sense to me that the historic Habsburg capital wouldn't be part of an independent Austria.
2. Why is Galicia-Lodomeria mostly part of Slovakia? And why does Hungary own a random chunk of G-L?
3. If the Baltic principalities are German vassals, why was territory ceded from Latvia, which is arguably the most Germanized Baltic state, to Lithuania, arguably the least?
4. Why does Bohemia own Bratislava and the most populous portions of Slovakia? If they were both carved out of the dying Habsburgs, shouldn't that follow ethnic borders more closely?
5. If Austria is sufficiently weak to lose Vienna to Bohemia, how has it managed to gain Sopron, or for that matter, hold onto Eisenstadt, as it was a part of the Kingdom of Hungary until the breakup of the Austro-Hungarian Empire IOTL.
Why is Vienna a part of Bohemia? It meanies very little sense to me that the historic Habsburg capital wouldn't be part of an independent Austria.
2. Why is Galicia-Lodomeria mostly part of Slovakia? And why does Hungary own a random chunk of G-L?
3. If the Baltic principalities are German vassals, why was territory ceded from Latvia, which is arguably the most Germanized Baltic state, to Lithuania, arguably the least?
4. Why does Bohemia own Bratislava and the most populous portions of Slovakia? If they were both carved out of the dying Habsburgs, shouldn't that follow ethnic borders more closely?
5. If Austria is sufficiently weak to lose Vienna to Bohemia, how has it managed to gain Sopron, or for that matter, hold onto Eisenstadt, as it was a part of the Kingdom of Hungary until the breakup of the Austro-Hungarian Empire IOTL.
Because of my own lack of ability, it's rather crude. Vienna is in Austria, it's just that I couldn't get the lines to come together right after several attempts. Consider that a very rough draft.
There seem to be some errors. The German-Danish border is post-1918, not including nothern Schleswig, while the Bohemians have two districts of Lower Austria to the Danube- inkluding Vienna! I do not think that's right, even though Vienna was the second largest Czech city
It's rough, it was entirely from my notes and I debated as to whether or not to post it because I knew that some of the details would be wrong.
Just out of curiosity what's happening in the Middle East? I can see that the Ottomans have exploded but did the British form Iraq and Syria?
An overview with some noticed errors is better than no overview.
I wonder if anyone ever made a map drawing and picture posting tutorial (posting your own figures anonimously)?
Part 11, Chapter 104
Chapter One Hundred Four
25th February, 1936
Berlin, Germany
Lang sat in his office, watching the bustle of the Berlin streets. From here the problems of the world seemed so distant. As the Great War grew more distant the old grievances were coming to the fore and frequently it seemed like all the parties involved were technically allies of the Germany.
The Hungarians and Romanians were busy threatening to declare war on each other. The Greeks and the Kurds were continuing to put the squeeze on the Turks like they’ve been for the last twenty years. The Arabian Peninsula was a mess with territory carved out along ethnic and sectarian lines with all of the Arabian States, usually just an outpost in the desert with higher aspirations, asking for recognition by the German Government. All of them were also asking for help waging war against the British Empire, who they regarded as a common enemy and who the German Government didn’t consider an enemy for now. Those Arabian upstarts would undo several years’ worth of delicate diplomatic and covert work, something that was clearly not going to happen.
There were new elections coming up this Summer, the Party had big things in mind for Lang himself. Being a relatively young war hero and former revolutionary with a photogenic family had its advantages. Still though he found it increasingly unsatisfactory. He needed something to rail against, a cause.
That was when a knock distracted him from his thoughts. “A Peter Holz is here to see you” The Secretary said. Emil’s brother, what could he want?
28th March, 1936
Ingolstadt, Germany
Every year thousands of tourists went over the Alps to the Sun soaked shores of Italy, here in Southern Germany in was still Winter. Something that Hans Mischner was reminded of with every step as the soot filled snow crunched under his boots. He was one of six soldiers who it was believed knew enough about trains to not come to grief in this marshaling yard.
While Hans had practically grown up in a rail yard this one was far from home and he had never had his sister’s drive to travel. His squad’s assignment was to aid Customs as they dealt with the sudden crush of rail passengers, his understanding was that Summer was even worse. However, he wouldn’t be freezing his butt off in the Summertime.
“It’s not all bad” Jost Schultz said.
Hans looked up just in time to see a girl in one of the rail carriages draw a heart on the glass as they walked past. Hans realized that he’d been the one outlined, he could feel his cheeks burning and he could hear them giggling inside.
“Real hardship ain’t it” Jost said with a smile as he slapped Hans on the shoulder and tipped his cap to the girls on the train. The giggling grew louder.
“You are real bastard” Hans said to Jost.
“Quiet!” Feldwebel Berger yelled at them. They were to be seen and not heard, for all the good that did.
There was a whistle off in the distance and the train pulled away, the next stop would be in Austria. Hans watched as the Customs officials walked away from the train preparing for the next one that was coming in behind it. Hans could see the steam engine in the distance, it would like this for the next couple of weeks. Then they would all be coming back.
Berger then spotted something and walked across the tracks. Hans had tried to warn him against doing that, getting blindsided here came with a huge cost to life and limb. On one of the side tracks a lorry had pulled up to one of the long lines of boxcars. The Customs seals were still on those, meaning that they had yet to be inspected. Jost started to follow Berger but Hans grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back, right before a wall of steel passed in front of them, boxcars being pushed into the yard. They were cut off from the Feldwebel.
The boxcars kept rolling past giving no more than flashes of what was happening on the other side. They could see Berger talking to the men unloading the boxcar. The Feldwebel must have seen something he was not supposed to because they heard a gunshot and caught a glimpse of Berger crumpling to the ground.
Hans knew what he had to do in this situation but it was something that his father had expressly warned him never to do. He threw himself under the moving boxcars falling between the tracks letting the trucks roll over him when the next boxcar came he rolled out from under on the other side. He saw Jost staring open mouthed at him, he doubted he’d ever have to listen to Jost telling him to “Man up” again after that.
The man who had shot Berger was still standing there as Hans brought his rifle to his shoulder and tried to fire a shot. The safety was still on so nothing happened. One of that man’s friends must have seen Hans because he opened fire with a sub machine gun causing him to dive for cover. Bullets were hitting the side of the box cars throwing sparks and ricochets in all directions. Hans thumbed the safety off and fired a shot in the general direction that the fire was coming from. His rifle was one of the old G98s that was supposed to be phased out eventually. He suddenly understood that there was a very good reason for that as he worked the bolt and another burst of fire went over his head.
The line of boxcars ended and the locomotive went past as Hans was engulfed in a cloud of steam. The rest of the squad were finally able to get into the act and started firing as soon as they were able to get a good look at their assailants. The man who had shot Berger went down with a couple of shots to the chest. Hans finally got off an aimed shot at the gunner as he attempted to reload he couldn’t see if he’d hit the man or not. The engine of the lorry fired up and pulled away from the boxcar seemingly aimed right at Hans. He got off a shot at the lorry, not even aiming and saw a hole appear in the windshield and a spray of blood across the interior. The lorry came to a stop the drivers body resting on the horn that blared out.
The men who had been unloading the boxcar started shooting with pistols as they attempted to run away and were swiftly shot down in turn. They had just won the fight for whatever this was.
Hans feeling of triumph swiftly faded as he noticed that the criminals that had fired at them had left huge splashes of crimson across the snow as they died. The passenger train that had been pulling in was full of passengers who had just witnessed the whole thing.
Hans looked at the hundreds of horrified faces staring back at them. “I think we just really screwed up” He said to Jost.
25th February, 1936
Berlin, Germany
Lang sat in his office, watching the bustle of the Berlin streets. From here the problems of the world seemed so distant. As the Great War grew more distant the old grievances were coming to the fore and frequently it seemed like all the parties involved were technically allies of the Germany.
The Hungarians and Romanians were busy threatening to declare war on each other. The Greeks and the Kurds were continuing to put the squeeze on the Turks like they’ve been for the last twenty years. The Arabian Peninsula was a mess with territory carved out along ethnic and sectarian lines with all of the Arabian States, usually just an outpost in the desert with higher aspirations, asking for recognition by the German Government. All of them were also asking for help waging war against the British Empire, who they regarded as a common enemy and who the German Government didn’t consider an enemy for now. Those Arabian upstarts would undo several years’ worth of delicate diplomatic and covert work, something that was clearly not going to happen.
There were new elections coming up this Summer, the Party had big things in mind for Lang himself. Being a relatively young war hero and former revolutionary with a photogenic family had its advantages. Still though he found it increasingly unsatisfactory. He needed something to rail against, a cause.
That was when a knock distracted him from his thoughts. “A Peter Holz is here to see you” The Secretary said. Emil’s brother, what could he want?
28th March, 1936
Ingolstadt, Germany
Every year thousands of tourists went over the Alps to the Sun soaked shores of Italy, here in Southern Germany in was still Winter. Something that Hans Mischner was reminded of with every step as the soot filled snow crunched under his boots. He was one of six soldiers who it was believed knew enough about trains to not come to grief in this marshaling yard.
While Hans had practically grown up in a rail yard this one was far from home and he had never had his sister’s drive to travel. His squad’s assignment was to aid Customs as they dealt with the sudden crush of rail passengers, his understanding was that Summer was even worse. However, he wouldn’t be freezing his butt off in the Summertime.
“It’s not all bad” Jost Schultz said.
Hans looked up just in time to see a girl in one of the rail carriages draw a heart on the glass as they walked past. Hans realized that he’d been the one outlined, he could feel his cheeks burning and he could hear them giggling inside.
“Real hardship ain’t it” Jost said with a smile as he slapped Hans on the shoulder and tipped his cap to the girls on the train. The giggling grew louder.
“You are real bastard” Hans said to Jost.
“Quiet!” Feldwebel Berger yelled at them. They were to be seen and not heard, for all the good that did.
There was a whistle off in the distance and the train pulled away, the next stop would be in Austria. Hans watched as the Customs officials walked away from the train preparing for the next one that was coming in behind it. Hans could see the steam engine in the distance, it would like this for the next couple of weeks. Then they would all be coming back.
Berger then spotted something and walked across the tracks. Hans had tried to warn him against doing that, getting blindsided here came with a huge cost to life and limb. On one of the side tracks a lorry had pulled up to one of the long lines of boxcars. The Customs seals were still on those, meaning that they had yet to be inspected. Jost started to follow Berger but Hans grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back, right before a wall of steel passed in front of them, boxcars being pushed into the yard. They were cut off from the Feldwebel.
The boxcars kept rolling past giving no more than flashes of what was happening on the other side. They could see Berger talking to the men unloading the boxcar. The Feldwebel must have seen something he was not supposed to because they heard a gunshot and caught a glimpse of Berger crumpling to the ground.
Hans knew what he had to do in this situation but it was something that his father had expressly warned him never to do. He threw himself under the moving boxcars falling between the tracks letting the trucks roll over him when the next boxcar came he rolled out from under on the other side. He saw Jost staring open mouthed at him, he doubted he’d ever have to listen to Jost telling him to “Man up” again after that.
The man who had shot Berger was still standing there as Hans brought his rifle to his shoulder and tried to fire a shot. The safety was still on so nothing happened. One of that man’s friends must have seen Hans because he opened fire with a sub machine gun causing him to dive for cover. Bullets were hitting the side of the box cars throwing sparks and ricochets in all directions. Hans thumbed the safety off and fired a shot in the general direction that the fire was coming from. His rifle was one of the old G98s that was supposed to be phased out eventually. He suddenly understood that there was a very good reason for that as he worked the bolt and another burst of fire went over his head.
The line of boxcars ended and the locomotive went past as Hans was engulfed in a cloud of steam. The rest of the squad were finally able to get into the act and started firing as soon as they were able to get a good look at their assailants. The man who had shot Berger went down with a couple of shots to the chest. Hans finally got off an aimed shot at the gunner as he attempted to reload he couldn’t see if he’d hit the man or not. The engine of the lorry fired up and pulled away from the boxcar seemingly aimed right at Hans. He got off a shot at the lorry, not even aiming and saw a hole appear in the windshield and a spray of blood across the interior. The lorry came to a stop the drivers body resting on the horn that blared out.
The men who had been unloading the boxcar started shooting with pistols as they attempted to run away and were swiftly shot down in turn. They had just won the fight for whatever this was.
Hans feeling of triumph swiftly faded as he noticed that the criminals that had fired at them had left huge splashes of crimson across the snow as they died. The passenger train that had been pulling in was full of passengers who had just witnessed the whole thing.
Hans looked at the hundreds of horrified faces staring back at them. “I think we just really screwed up” He said to Jost.
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Different unit, Jost Schultz is the son of the team leader of WW43B.
Part 11, Chapter 105
Chapter One Hundred Five
11th April, 1936
Pankow Railyard, Berlin, Germany
As it turned out there was enough heroin in that lorry to start your own religion. Not that any of that helped them. It had come as no surprise that Jost was full of crap, he’d bullshitted his way in to the squad to get out of the barracks for a few weeks. The other three were the Wirth brothers and Soren Yount. The Wirth brothers were not brothers, in fact they were not even remotely related to each other. Rudy and Henrik had been shoved into the same cadre in basic and a sadistic drill instructor had noticed that not only did they have the same last name but the same general appearance. The idea that they were brothers was indelibly stuck in everyone’s minds after that. They were like Hans and Soren in that they were sons of rail workers.
Once the smoke cleared they had all the Brass angry with them over what had happened. They had been shot at and they had shot back. The only one in the Squad who might have been held to account was Berger who was dead. The Hauptman had called that convenient, which had just gone to show the mindset of the Brass on this whole matter. The only person who had asked their opinion on what had happened was a Doctor who said he was conducting a long-term study but hadn’t elaborated. He had listened to their version of events and then left.
A few days later they were shoved on to this train. There rumors of its existence, a train with no fixed destination that circled Germany plying the routes between the various airfields, garrisons and naval bases. They had been placed on it to get rid of them. Hans understood the truth of it, purgatory. Day after day in an unheated boxcar watching the countryside roll by. By afternoon they might be in a high alpine pass and the next they would be looking out at a dark blue ocean under gray skies. Once a day someone would throw some food and water their way but other than that they were left to their own devices.
Now they were in northern Berlin and Hans recognized the neighborhood that they were in. That was when the train which had not paused for more than an hour over the last few days was left parked all afternoon in the Pankow Railyard, less than a kilometer from his Aunt and Uncle’s house. That meant that all the yard workers were his Father’s people, Hans figured that any second now…
“Who do you think you are?” Jost asked.
“That’s none of your business” Kat Mischner said.
“Little girls shouldn’t wander around places like this” Jost said “It might be dangerous.”
“Stupid oafs like you ought to know what danger really looks like before opening your yap” Kat shot back.
Hans knew that Kat was right about that. Jost messed with Kat, the yard workers and bulls would see to it that Jost didn’t leave this railyard alive. They had been keeping a close eye on Kat for years. Hans watched a heavy canvas bag was thrown on to the boxcar and Kat expertly followed. At 13 she was tall and gawky, long red hair in a braid, blue eyes and freckles. Aunt Marcella had predicted that she would eventually be beautiful but it would be the sort of thing that would come with age, at this point Hans couldn’t see it.
“Don’t mind her Jost” Hans said “She happens to be my kid sister.”
Kat’s eyes adjusted to the gloom of the inside of the boxcar and she saw where Hans had been hiding in hopes of avoiding this very conversation.
“I heard from Uncle Klaus’ friend Ernst who heard it from his brother that you’d been spotted riding the Fuckup Express” Kat said, their Aunt had clearly failed in her attempts to get Kat to clean up her language “I almost didn’t believe it was true but here you are.”
“As if you’ve never been in trouble in your life” Hans said.
“I’ve never been nearly as deep as the shit you’re in” Kat said “You made the papers by getting into a shootout with Albanian gangsters even if you weren’t mentioned by name.”
That gave all of them pause, they’d had no idea who had been shooting at them until now.
“Wait” Rudy said “Albanians, seriously?”
“That’s what the papers were saying” Kat said “A big smuggling ring.”
“Enough of that” Hans said “Why are you here?”
“Aunt Marcella said to bring this for you” Kat said nudging the canvas bag with her foot “There’s enough for you and your friends.”
“Thank you for bringing that down here” Hans said, even if he really didn’t mean it.
There was a whistle off in the distance. “On that note” Kat said “Good night” She then hopped down to the ground alongside of the train and walked towards the neighborhood.
That was when the engine at the front of the train pulled out the slack, everyone but Jost was waiting for it and he was sent sprawling as a result. “How did you convince anyone that you knew anything about trains?” Henrik asked.
Jost just sat there indignantly.
Meanwhile, Soren and Rudy were digging through the canvas bag that Kat had left. Inside was enough food to feed a small army.
“Your Aunt really knows how treat us right” Soren said.
“You should see what she does when you actually sit at her table” Hans said.
“Can we do that some time?” Rudy asked.
11th April, 1936
Pankow Railyard, Berlin, Germany
As it turned out there was enough heroin in that lorry to start your own religion. Not that any of that helped them. It had come as no surprise that Jost was full of crap, he’d bullshitted his way in to the squad to get out of the barracks for a few weeks. The other three were the Wirth brothers and Soren Yount. The Wirth brothers were not brothers, in fact they were not even remotely related to each other. Rudy and Henrik had been shoved into the same cadre in basic and a sadistic drill instructor had noticed that not only did they have the same last name but the same general appearance. The idea that they were brothers was indelibly stuck in everyone’s minds after that. They were like Hans and Soren in that they were sons of rail workers.
Once the smoke cleared they had all the Brass angry with them over what had happened. They had been shot at and they had shot back. The only one in the Squad who might have been held to account was Berger who was dead. The Hauptman had called that convenient, which had just gone to show the mindset of the Brass on this whole matter. The only person who had asked their opinion on what had happened was a Doctor who said he was conducting a long-term study but hadn’t elaborated. He had listened to their version of events and then left.
A few days later they were shoved on to this train. There rumors of its existence, a train with no fixed destination that circled Germany plying the routes between the various airfields, garrisons and naval bases. They had been placed on it to get rid of them. Hans understood the truth of it, purgatory. Day after day in an unheated boxcar watching the countryside roll by. By afternoon they might be in a high alpine pass and the next they would be looking out at a dark blue ocean under gray skies. Once a day someone would throw some food and water their way but other than that they were left to their own devices.
Now they were in northern Berlin and Hans recognized the neighborhood that they were in. That was when the train which had not paused for more than an hour over the last few days was left parked all afternoon in the Pankow Railyard, less than a kilometer from his Aunt and Uncle’s house. That meant that all the yard workers were his Father’s people, Hans figured that any second now…
“Who do you think you are?” Jost asked.
“That’s none of your business” Kat Mischner said.
“Little girls shouldn’t wander around places like this” Jost said “It might be dangerous.”
“Stupid oafs like you ought to know what danger really looks like before opening your yap” Kat shot back.
Hans knew that Kat was right about that. Jost messed with Kat, the yard workers and bulls would see to it that Jost didn’t leave this railyard alive. They had been keeping a close eye on Kat for years. Hans watched a heavy canvas bag was thrown on to the boxcar and Kat expertly followed. At 13 she was tall and gawky, long red hair in a braid, blue eyes and freckles. Aunt Marcella had predicted that she would eventually be beautiful but it would be the sort of thing that would come with age, at this point Hans couldn’t see it.
“Don’t mind her Jost” Hans said “She happens to be my kid sister.”
Kat’s eyes adjusted to the gloom of the inside of the boxcar and she saw where Hans had been hiding in hopes of avoiding this very conversation.
“I heard from Uncle Klaus’ friend Ernst who heard it from his brother that you’d been spotted riding the Fuckup Express” Kat said, their Aunt had clearly failed in her attempts to get Kat to clean up her language “I almost didn’t believe it was true but here you are.”
“As if you’ve never been in trouble in your life” Hans said.
“I’ve never been nearly as deep as the shit you’re in” Kat said “You made the papers by getting into a shootout with Albanian gangsters even if you weren’t mentioned by name.”
That gave all of them pause, they’d had no idea who had been shooting at them until now.
“Wait” Rudy said “Albanians, seriously?”
“That’s what the papers were saying” Kat said “A big smuggling ring.”
“Enough of that” Hans said “Why are you here?”
“Aunt Marcella said to bring this for you” Kat said nudging the canvas bag with her foot “There’s enough for you and your friends.”
“Thank you for bringing that down here” Hans said, even if he really didn’t mean it.
There was a whistle off in the distance. “On that note” Kat said “Good night” She then hopped down to the ground alongside of the train and walked towards the neighborhood.
That was when the engine at the front of the train pulled out the slack, everyone but Jost was waiting for it and he was sent sprawling as a result. “How did you convince anyone that you knew anything about trains?” Henrik asked.
Jost just sat there indignantly.
Meanwhile, Soren and Rudy were digging through the canvas bag that Kat had left. Inside was enough food to feed a small army.
“Your Aunt really knows how treat us right” Soren said.
“You should see what she does when you actually sit at her table” Hans said.
“Can we do that some time?” Rudy asked.
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