The Gemini Divergence (2 page)

Major Schwerig ascended gracefully out of the
car and turned part way towards the driver as he said. “Feldwebel,
I haven’t the vaguest idea how long I shall be… If you wish, you
may seek your dinner from that feldkochswagen across the road.
Here”, he said as he grabbed a notepad out of his attaché and
scribbled something on it, still standing perfectly erect. “If they
give you trouble because you are not part of their unit, this shall
be adequate per-diem authorization.” Then the major replaced the
notebook into his attaché and flipped the top closed with the same
hand he was holding the case with in a very graceful and efficient
move. He then tucked it under his arm and looked up towards the
castle entrance at the top of the staircase.

“Thank you Herr Major,” said the sergeant as
he re-clicked his heals and accepted the paper. Moving it quickly
out of site behind his back with his right hand and gesturing up
the stairs with his left hand, while slightly leaning towards the
stairs.

Major Schwerig proceeded up the stairs and
through the door opened by yet another guard; saluting as he held
it open.

Once the officer disappeared through the
door, Sergeant Stark quickly closed the convertible car top to
shield it from the falling snow. After briefly fumbling through his
gear on the passenger seat and pulling out his mess kit, he started
through the snow, descending the hill and crossing the road.

*~*

Once inside the Foyer of the castle, Major
Schwerig noticed a desk in the middle of the hall facing the front
door. As he approached, he noticed that it was just a sergeant that
was seated behind it, so he did not feel any need to snap to
attention. He merely stated, “I am Major Schwerig, you should be
expecting me.”

He could tell that the sergeant was
accustomed to being around more officers than enlisted men because
he did not jump to attention, but still addressed him with respect.
Speaking, as if, with the authority given him by a higher rank than
the major. “Yes, of course Herr Major. You will be pleased to know
that you are not the last to arrive.”

This was an immense relief to him, as he knew
that a good military rule of thumb was to never be first and never
be last.

The sergeant continued. “The general has a
pre-arranged seating chart and your packets are already placed in a
sealed envelope at your chair. I have been ordered to instruct the
meeting attendees that they are not to open them until directed.
Attendees will also walk directly to their chair turning only at
right angles. Upon arriving at your chair you are to salute the
middle of the table, instead of turning towards the general, as a
show of respect for the entire meeting and not just as favoring the
general.”

The sergeant stood up and produced a diagram
of the seating arrangement and pointed to the seat that was
assigned to the major. “You will be sitting here… Now,” as he
snapped to attention, “is there anything else that I may do for the
major?”

Major Schwerig was impressed by the sergeants
well prepared presentation. He just smiled as he tucked his hat
under his arm and said. “Thank you Feldwebel, but no, I now have
everything that I will need at this time.”

At that the sergeant opened the door for him
and Schwerig walked through.

*~*

As Sergeant Stark approached the meal line he
noticed that it had dwindled dramatically.

It would be a much shorter wait than he had
thought.

As he looked around he saw some of the men
feeding the horses, but most of the infantrymen were eating their
meals, sitting on the horse drawn wagons or whatever dry surface
they could find in the still falling snow.

His feet were already freezing and wet,
sending what seemed like lightning bolts of pain up his leg. He
could not fathom how these infantrymen sustained this misery around
the clock.

It was dark now and the only light was coming
from the camp fires and the few moving motored vehicles that were
traveling up and down the road. There were also eerie glows shining
on the low lying snow clouds giving away the positions of the close
lying villages and towns.

He was suddenly surprised by the piercing
crack of a few short bursts of the machine gun that was mounted
onto a horse drawn wagon to his right. The sudden noise caused him
to turn so fast, that he slipped and almost fell.

A few Wehrmacht men around him started
laughing as some of the horses whinnied.

One of the Wehrmacht men cracked, “Better
watch out, you wouldn’t want to soil that pretty SS uniform.”

He then relaxed, because he had heard that
they just fired the guns before they covered them for the night to
ensure they were in working order, as well as to acclimate the
horses to the sound of occasional gunfire, so they would not be
overtly startled at the onset of any action.

Once up to the cook, he presented the voucher
that the major had given him.

The cook at the feldkochswagen smiled and
with a friendly tone said.”Stick that back in your pocket friend.
Use that another time when you need it. We have plenty tonight. We
are having a feast; courtesy of the Americans. It seams that we
have captured yet another lost Red Ball Express truck. Their
General Patton is traveling so fast that his own supply people have
no idea where he is, thus routinely and errantly, directing trucks
right into our hands.”

As the cook dished out American C-ration
potato soup, he continued. “Don’t worry about cracks from those
men, you would be bitter too if you marched all day for your dinner
and somebody hopped out of a car and got in line with you.”

Stark looked behind him at the men that had
been in the snow all day and realized that the cook was right.

“So, what brings you to our dinner, friend?”
the cook queried in the same friendly tone.

As he was holding up his dinner with both
hands, Sergeant Stark grimaced as he gestured with his face towards
the castle.

The lights showed out of the windows of the
castle on the hill like a pinnacle guiding light; a land locked
lighthouse in the Alps, “I am a staff car driver and I have just
delivered a major to a meeting that is going on in that heated
castle up there.”

The cook laughed out loud and boasted
sarcastically. “So nice of the major to let you stay outside in the
snow and join us for dinner.”

Sergeant Stark replied. “Honestly I would
rather be here. At least with you I can carry on a conversation
during dinner. I bet that they are eating dinner with the general
at attention, looking as if they all had corn cobs stuck up their
bottoms.”

At that all of the Infantrymen that heard
Sergeant Stark started laughing.

*~*

The silence was so acute that Major Schwerig
began to think of his own ear ringing as deafening.

All of the alerted officers except one had
arrived and were sitting, practically at attention, and waiting
silently.

He could see a neatly packaged bundle in
front of him with his name on it, but did not dare touch it as of
yet.

The general was not yet in, so there were
only two empty seats remaining.

The fire burning in the hearth was the
loudest thing in the room except for the occasional throat
clearing.

Schwerig had been assigned to General von
Sterbenbach for the last several months. After Reinhardt Heidrich’s
death; Himmler had to start another unit to take care of Hitler’s
‘internal enemies’, so he comprised a new unit under Von
Sterbenbach using some of Heidrich’s old staff as well as other up
and coming talent from within the SS.

The new unit was so secret, Himmler had
forbidden any member from naming it, not even a nickname or
euphemism.

Finally, something broke his thoughts. He
could here the voice of the sergeant in the hall, going through his
well constructed spiel once again.

Obviously to whomever the straggler was.

After the sergeant had finished, Schwerig
could hear the sound of a hand grabbing the door knob and turning
it. As the door creaked open, he could see the sergeant holding it
open for the last officer to enter.

After the officer entered and was seated, the
sergeant proceeded to the hearth and raked the coals of the fire
before adding a piece of wood. Once he had finished, he wiped his
hands on a towel that was hanging there for just that purpose, then
stood and walked to the door, turning and snapping his heals as he
gave a quick long arm salute to the room and exited, closing the
door behind himself.

“Gentlemen,” said a familiar voice, startling
all of the meetings members.

It was General Günter Von Sterbenbach,
standing by a back door.

No one had heard him enter as they were all
paying attention to the sergeant.

He had a smirk on his face, as he could see
that he surprised them and already had their hearts racing. “Now
that you have all arrived,” as he gave a piercing and obviously
irritated stare at the last man in, “I can start… I am sure that
you are all wondering what could be of such importance, that I have
pulled you all out of the middle of your assignments, as I have
never done this before.”

“Well,” he continued, “It seems that the war
is not going well for Germany. Many of you have probably already
suspected this. The Führer’s Staff is planning ways to turn the war
around but they have already had plans in place in the event that
there was going to be an enemy occupation. It looks as though many
parts of the Fatherland will indeed be occupied very soon, and
unfortunately there are many things that will be unacceptable, if
they were to fall into enemy hands. We have many wonder weapons
that we have made arrangements to move out of the Ruhr River
Valley, but unfortunately there are others that even though they
are of great importance to us, they are in fact of less importance
than others. Therefore, most of you are being given orders today to
completely liquidate these programs. There must not be anything or
anyone left behind that could let the Allies know what we have been
working on. You have specific agendas; lists of papers, drawings,
people, prototypes, etc. that you are either to remove, retrieve,
or raze… To make vanish; as if they had never existed.”

The general pulled out his chair and sat. He
picked up the pile of papers in front of him and straightened them
as he went on, “You may open your packets and begin reading. I
think that you all will be very interested in the signature at the
bottom of your orders… I want to be sure that all of you completely
understand what we are doing before a single one of you leaves,
even if it takes all night.”

Schwerig opened his packet and skimmed ahead
to the signature and was indeed shocked that it was signed by
Himmler. There was an added caveat after the signature that this
document was to be destroyed upon completion of the objective.

*~*

After finishing his meal, Sgt. Stark cleaned
his mess kit in a series of 50 gallon drum barrels that had been
cut in half with a cutting torch and laid out onto a makeshift
table of boards and saw horses.

He waited his turn at each step as many other
soldiers were going through the same routine.

Once again he agonized over his freezing
toes, his boots in mud deep enough to cover the fronts of his
toes.

As he finished, he started to walk away,
tucking his mess kit back together as he walked, politely nodding
to the soldiers that he passed as he headed back up the mountain
towards the castle.

As he walked, his mind started wandering back
to his childhood, remembering walking home in the snow. When he
came back from his brief reflection, he was surprised at how far he
had walked already.

He looked over the edge of the road down into
the valley where he had just been.

As he walked, he watched all of the men that
he had just dined with setting up tents in the night, the campfires
silhouetting their bodies, hanging up their socks within.

He wondered if he would have to sleep outside
as well. He dared not venture inside the castle looking for the
major. It would look unprofessional for any officer, if he were
being questioned or interrupted by his subordinates.

Upon arriving at the staff car, he stored his
mess kit back away and rummaged through his pack until he produced
some cigarettes and a lighter. He put a cigarette into his mouth
and shut the car door before he lit it.

He knew how the major detested cigarette
smoke.

As he cupped his hands and turned from the
wind, he lit his smoke.

The small flame lit the court yard in a
ghostly way.

He closed the lighter with a click and as he
stowed it in his pocket, he looked up at the overcast sky, past the
enclosed medieval walls of the courtyard and enjoyed the silence of
the night, the soft falling snow, and his, for the moment, precious
solace.

*~*

The meeting had obviously come to a
conclusion as the officers were standing in disarray around the
fire lit room swapping stories about the war so far.

Slowly they left the room one by one into the
night, the sound of their motors leaving the court yard below.

Major Schwerig was the last remaining in the
room, being his usual thorough self and looking through his files
one last time. He was seated in a high back leather chair facing
the hearth as he worked, when he heard someone re-enter the room
behind him.

Casually turning with a facial expression
that conveyed,
who are you to disturb me
, until he realized
that it was the general that had returned to the room.

He quickly put the papers down on the end
table beside the chair and snapped to attention, saluting.

To his great discomfort he watched as the
general lit a Bavarian flip top pipe. Now he would have to suffer
gladly the misery of smelling that horrid smolder.