Authors: Jonathan Davison
“He did not suffer.” Bauer spoke quietly as he returned to his feet. Hawkins could not speak; he had no words to say that described the way he felt at that point. He wanted to make someone pay for this outrage but George's killer had already succumbed. Even if the black clad Nazi had a moment to realise his impending fate, Hawkins understood that it mattered not because there was no feeling in this enemy. They were cold both in body and in spirit. They were relentless, merciless killing machines with a sole purpose. Taking life was its only goal.
Bauer stood quietly allowing Hawkins to grieve for a moment. This changed nothing in his mind; this was in many ways inevitable. He also knew that now Hawkins had been personally affected by this conflict, he would most certainly have many more questions to answer.
CHAPTER 17
Understanding that Hawkins needed time for quiet reflection but eager to escape this scene of carnage, Bauer carried Granger's body and loaded it gently into the rear of the small swastika adorned truck and covered it over with the length of his grey trench coat. Driving several hundred yards down the road in their new vehicle, Bauer took a small bumpy and muddy trail off the asphalt path and down into a small valley where another farmhouse stood alone although its chimney smoked ominously.
The truck had just enough room to sit three abreast in the cabin. The vehicle rolled and bounced around as it made its way down the track, Hawkins pressed his face against the cold glass window closing his eyes from the onrushing wind which howled its way through the bullet strewn glass. The truck was clearly not in a good way but operational although it was not clear for how long. Bauer considered continuing his journey without the distraught Brit such was his state of mind. Genevieve all the while sat fairly impassively, at one point she offered a comforting hand to the Brit but he declined it much to her ambivalence.
As the truck rolled up to the farmhouse and came to a squeaking halt, Bauer observed some motion at the window and a curtain twitched.
“OK, let me go and see who is in.” Bauer remarked boldly as he alighted the cab. Hawkins noted despite his mind being a maelstrom of dark thoughts, that Bauer could no longer be regarded as an enemy. He had offered arms and earned a significant amount of trust. Hawkins had no compunction to repay his humanity with non-compliance. The young Brit watched as Bauer banged on the front door and after a considerable time, it opened ajar and the German was seen to be talking. A pair of beady white eyes peered out through the crack in the door and a negotiation was clearly taking place which seemed to end positively when Bauer beckon them both to follow.
Hawkins climbed from the truck and trudged across a narrow strip of exceptionally muddy path. As he approached the door, he caught a glimpse of the farmhouse's occupant. A small child, approximately twelve years old stood alone at the doorway, his face full of horror and confusion. As Hawkins entered the house, he gave the boy a smile of thanks. If there was ever an opportunity to present a confounding situation to a small French boy who had grown up through the occupation, it was a German officer and a British soldier working in compliance with each other. As Genevieve walked past, she spoke to the boy briefly and he nodded as he closed the door behind them.
“I told him not to worry, we are all friends.” She exclaimed calmly as she followed.
The farmhouse was untidy and it was clear that the boy's parents had not been here for some time. Small boys are poor at clearing up their mess behind them and that was the general sense of the situation that confronted the soldiers as they marched into the living area. Bauer looked around the small comfortable looking lounge with its brown furniture and spoke to the boy in his native tongue. The boy nodded and hurried off to the kitchen.
“You speak many languages.” Hawkins said as he lowered his aching body into a plush upholstered chair.
“It is a necessity when you invade someone's country. My Russian is not quite so developed.” Bauer replied with a smile. Genevieve inspected the fireplace and the array of photographs which lined the mantelpiece.
“I recognise these people. They are well known in this area.” Genevieve said as she studied a family portrait.
“Well known for what?” Hawkins replied.
“Dying.” She replied in a dead pan tone.
“Don't tell me, the German's had a hand in their demise.” Hawkins spoke cynically; his outlook on life was blackened.
“Actually no, the Jacques were found to be conspirators. They offered information regarding the resistance to the Germans. The boy's parents were found at the base of a very high cliff.”
Hawkins raised his eyebrows, he felt a fool for judging the local German's harshly. In war, all sides were capable of deception and great cruelty.
“So the boy has been left here since?” Bauer inquired. No answer was given, it was a presumption by all that the youngster had been forced to cope with his parents death and survive by himself. At that moment, the boy walked slowly in, carrying a tea tray admirably and was quickly aided by Bauer who thanked him and begun to disperse the steaming mugs.
“He is well trained.” Hawkins said smiling at the lad who obviously prided himself in the hospitality he offered his guests.
“Do you speak English?” Bauer asked the boy slowly and with a comforting smile. The boy shook his head, seemingly confused.
“Good.” The German replied and then began to speak once again in fluent French. The boy seemed to understand him well and nodded at times as if he was being given instructions. He also spoke up as if answering questions and seemed healthy if not a little malnourished. When the German had finished, the boy smiled and dashed off upstairs.
“The boy seems in good spirits considering. I have assured him we won't be staying long and I will contact his parents in due course.”
Hawkins raised an eyebrow.
“His parents?” The Brit asked with incredulity.
“Yes, I know they are dead but he does not. It is better for him to remain safe here in ignorance and await aid.”
Hawkins shook his head in disbelief. Perpetuating the boys hope did not seem ethical.
“Speaking of keeping secrets...” Hawkins said knowing that it was past the time that Bauer opened up a little. There never going to be a better time to explain what was going on and the comforting brew which warmed Hawkins' hands and soft seat were great aids to coping with bad news.
“I think it's past time you told us what the hell those things are and why they are roaming around wiping out all and sundry.” Hawkins was assertive; he felt an entitlement to the truth now he had faced personal loss. Bauer nodded and as Genevieve sat down tentatively, her face was pale and she looked a little queasy.
“I can tell you what they are and where they came from but I do not know why it has come to this.” Bauer replied sipping his brew nervously.
“Where do you want me to begin?” Bauer shrugged his shoulders feeling the enormity of his role in the affair.
“The beginning, obviously.” Hawkins urged his German companion to reveal all. That was going to be difficult for Bauer.
“Approximately a year ago, we acquired a new technology. It was...a discovery of some magnitude. It was not immediately clear what we had and it took our scientists some time to absorb the data. Needless to say, it was instrumental in what you see today.” Bauer spoke deliberately and slowly. Hawkins did not like it; he knew that Bauer was glossing over the story.
“Go on...” Hawkins prodded.
“It was some form of device to allow...a form of mind control.” Bauer recollected his own memories of the day he realised all too well what potency the device held. Hawkins raised his eyebrows but was confused.
“Keep going...” He urged.
“One can only assume that the technology has been developed or more widely understood. Instead of a single individual, perhaps many can be manipulated simultaneously.”
Hawkins brow furrowed.
“And these soldiers that are being controlled, I guess these are not your regular infantry. This mind control doesn’t look healthy for them.”
Bauer nodded.
“Indeed although I personally think they are beyond caring. They are all quite dead.”
Hawkins face was a picture. Genevieve looked over to the Brit for some kind of a reaction but a blank stare was singularly forthcoming.
“The Germans are resurrecting dead soldiers?” Hawkins slurred as he remembered the foul stench of them.
“I was not sure at first but unfortunately, in my duties as commanding officer of a number of these 'men', I happened to recognise one as a fellow I fought with in Russia. His name was Timo Lohrmann, a fine billiards player in his day. You can imagine that it came as quite a shock when we were recently reunited as I had not only seen him killed by a single bullet to the chest at Stalingrad but had processed his quite cold and lifeless body the following day. After informing his family of his death, it was not something you easily forget. Of course, when he arrived a week ago upright and mobile wearing the insignia of a new battalion in honour of Hitler himself, it was a moment of considerable reflection. Lohrmann never spoke of course, none of them do. They are always accompanied by a high profile SS commander and interaction was...minimal. They had few requirements, they did not sleep. Apart from eating special canned foods that we received soon after, they were nothing more than walking statues. Naturally, we questioned and were quickly silenced. When news that the Allied invasion was heading our way, we counted our blessings that we had them at our side. They were lethal in their accuracy, they had the strength of three men and were resistant to pain, fear and even bullets. They were the perfect killing machine, capable of great feats but possessing zero sense of self preservation. The Allies were repelled and we all celebrated. The events spelled a turning of the tides of war. I had myself witnessed our extermination at the hands of the Red Army and the Russian winter. I began to even feel some vindication for my part in the tragic affair...until yesterday, of course.”
Hawkins shook his head in disbelief and even Genevieve looked distinctly perplexed.
“They suddenly turned on their own masters?” Hawkins inquired.
“Yes. Without warning or reason.” Bauer reflected on his traumatic last twenty four hours. Hawkins leaned back in his seat and rubbed his face with his hand. Something had eluded him thus far but was now becoming apparent.
“You just said that you had a part in the affair, what did you mean?” Hawkins leaned forward; he was keen to expose the whole truth. Bauer inhaled deeply, this was clearly a difficult story to tell and his face was etched in guilt.
“It was my expedition that discovered the secrets which led to this painful episode.” Bauer remembered the enormity of his teams' discovery and the subsequent euphoria. He also remembered his encounter with the most alien of technologies and the psychological torment of feeling with every fibre of his being, the death of the creature he briefly commanded.
“We found something buried beneath the frozen lakes of Antarctica. A find of global importance, something quite wonderful but in hindsight, quite terrifying also. Some things, I feel are destined to remain hidden far away from our awareness. We as a species are too young to comprehend certain things; we are too immature to be trusted with their custodianship. Whilst this wondrous discovery should have been shared with the world in order to unite and enlighten the people, it was used, abused and corrupted in order to fight a battle we were always destined to lose. For my part in the discovery, I was sent to the Russian front to be obliterated with the rest of our disillusioned men. When I somehow managed to survive the slaughter, I was once again drafted to a new post where I could be easily forgotten; the commander of a small garrison outside Carentan.” Bauer looked visibly shaken by recounting the facts and Hawkins realised in some small part how much Bauer’s actions had shaped the past, present and possibly future.
“So what was it? The discovery in the Arctic?” Hawkins inquired; obviously geography or listen carefully was not his strongest point. Genevieve looked overwhelmed by the tall tale and stared into the ripples of her mug of tea.
“Do you know how many have asked me that question? To be honest, I still do not know. Possibly a relic of an advanced race who lived on Earth thousands of years ago, aliens from outer space, a gift from God to his Aryan worshippers...who knows?”
Hawkins laughed nervously. It was a lot to take in. The whole story seemed rather remote from the reality of the recent past. The brutal death of his friend was still very fresh in his thoughts.
“Surely if you found this thing, you should have been a hero?” Hawkins tried to tie the loose ends.
“Indeed. However, I was sent to the other side of the world to freeze my balls off for six months for a reason. You see, I am not the model Nazi officer.”
Hawkins laughed.
“Well, I gathered that much.”
Bauer relaxed a little with the burden of truth lifted a little from his shoulders.
“So, why Caen?” Hawkins added thinking about the near future and the clear level of peril that the German faced by venturing there.
“Yes, I understand why you ask that.” Bauer said thoughtfully. “Quite simply, I believe that many of my questions regarding the origins of the 'cold soldiers' can be answered there. You see, this operation was rushed to be ready in time for the Allied invasion. I believe the origins of the soldiers are in Caen and not far away where they could not be reactionary. There is a significant Wehrmacht presence there.”