Berdiri Melawan Pembajakan.................3 Kata Pengantar..........................................6 Bab 1............................................................8 Bab 2..........................................................18 Bab 3..........................................................25 Bab 4..........................................................35 ~~................................................................46 Help Not Steal.........................................48 First – Simple English.............................51 Part 1.........................................................52 Part 2.........................................................60 Part 3.........................................................66 Part 4.........................................................74 ~~................................................................83 Stand Against Piracy..............................85 Preface – English.....................................88 Chapter 1..................................................89 Chapter 2..................................................97 Chapter 3................................................103 Chapter 4................................................111
Kredit Bumi foto kesopanan dari N.A.S.A.. Terjemahan oleh Trala Inc.. A Menjalankan Telanjang Produksi Ketiga Edisi – Kedua Pencetakan 001-3.2-3idpd – 2011-10-13 dc:source 0011371039749190183559301fd7be1ac972c
Terpisah Bumi Hak cipta © 2007-2013 oleh Robert Skyler Semua Hak Cadangan Dibuat di Amerika Beritahu dunia harus berpikir apa. Membuat atau merusak buku ini dengan tinjauan atau penilaian pada halaman tersebut pembelian. Semua karakter muncul dalam pekerjaan ini adalah fiktif. Setiap kemiripan dengan orang-
orang yang nyata, hidup atau mati, adalah murni kebetulan.
Berdiri Melawan Pembajakan Membantu menghentikan pembajakan dengan membeli lisensi pembaca sekunder untuk setiap orang dengan yang Anda berbagi pekerjaan ini. Jika Anda menduga bahwa Anda sendiri bukan orang pertama yang membaca ini, tanyakan operator Anda jika mereka membeli lisensi Anda, atau membeli sendiri sekarang.
Terpisah Bumi
Pembuahan
Episod 001
S.S.H.U.T.
“Mengidentifikasi Jahat”
Indonesia Edisi
Ringkasan Sebuah petualangan epik menjadi gila, ini serangkaian cerita pendek mengeksplorasi rantai yang mengikat jiwa manusia dengan pengulangan bertahan hidup. ~~~ Sejarah, ditulis oleh pemenang jarang mencatat peristiwa digambarkan sebagai mereka benar-benar terjadi. Dibersihkan dan disederhanakan adalah hilangnya pelajaran mereka untuk melindungi atau mengutuk kita? Pada akhir Perang Dunia II, terkepung di bunker nya, fantasinya runtuh di sekelilingnya, Hitler membuat melarikan diri. Selatan ia terbang untuk satu kesempatan terakhir, satu berdiri akhir dan satu lagi pelajaran sejarah lupa untuk mengajar kita.
Kata Pengantar
B
agaimana jika orang bisa berpikir untuk
dirinya sendiri? Tidak, saya tidak bermaksud berputar ide-ide sekitar – sekali dicuci, kemudian diulang – untuk cocok seperti ayam begitu banyak dalam sebuah alat panggang listrik. Tapi setiap kali meraih yang memicu reaksi luar mereka dengan bertanya bisa, saya lakukan lebih baik dari ini? Dan kemudian melakukannya. Dapatkah anda bayangkan betapa berbahayanya yang dapat? Ini adalah perjalanan melalui ruang antara telinga Anda, sebuah jurang besar belum dimanfaatkan kesepian ketiadaan disimpan perusahaan dengan hanya gema pernah berpikir cerdas, sekarang lama sejak tanggal berakhirnya masa lalunya. Sebuah perjalanan yang meminta bagaimana, bukan apa dan mengapa, ketika oke akan dilakukan dan jika, di mana karena hanya omong kosong sehingga mengaburkan suatu
kebenaran pribadi yang tidak bisa dipahami lagi. Terpisah Bumi adalah perjalanan seumur hidup… melihat Anda di telinga yang lain.
Bab 1 Penerbangan
– Nazi Jerman, April 28, 1945 –
I
ni adalah fantasi anak-anak, beberapa
minggu terakhir di Berlin. Ini saya tahu benar karena saya belum bertemu dengan seorang dewasa yang dapat memahami apa yang terjadi, tapi kami mengerti; itu adalah fantasi berpura-pura menjadi kenyataan dan di sini kita berada di jantung kegilaan berjuang dengan senjata dan granat terhadap artileri serangan dan serangan bom. Dalam transformasi fantastik berikutnya realitas saya, tugas saya sebagai utusan – mengemudi saya ke tempat-tempat baru yang menarik yang minggu bulan dan bahkan lalu hanya
lingkungan saya – membuat saya cukup jelas untuk mencegah dari kegilaan merambat yang memiliki segala sesuatu di sekitar saya. Saya menghadiri sekolah selama bertahun-tahun di sebuah bangunan yang berdiri di belakang saya hari ini sebagai markas pertempuran mimpi melawan kejahatan. Toko umum saya teratur mengambil es dari ibu saya sekarang ada di depan saya, gelap dan bercahaya dari pantulan awan rendah cahaya api melalui atap hilang nya, bayangan menakutkan pulsa keluar dari jendela dengan flash setiap ledakan baru dari cakrawala menakutkan saya seterusnya. Ini adalah tempa dari mana semua mimpi buruk menelurkan dan saya membayangkan mereka akan tetap demikian untuk selama-lamanya, tetapi meskipun saya hanya anak, setiap nafas baru saya menggambar mengkonfirmasikan aku masih bisa menguasai mimpi itu. Dengan pesan aman di saku rompi, saya mendorong pada dengan misi saya ke Fuhrerbunker. Menjalankan gang-gang dan melalui taman saya telah berlatih permainan ini sangat di musim panas lalu. Merunduk ke
bawah jalan-jalan dari toko ke tumpukan puing-puing, tidak ada salahnya untuk dilihat hari ini dan bahkan lebih sedikit sekitar waktu pagi, kecuali bagi kita tentara. Setidaknya aku pikir pagi itu. Tangki saya bermata bersembunyi di balik berikut lari cepat berikutnya saya tidak ada kemarin. Tak bernyawa Badan kapal Nya berdiri sebagai tanda air yang tinggi Angkatan Darat menggigil terakhir serangan Merah saya dan seterusnya, untuk posisi perdana adalah meliputi ideal di jalan saya saat ini. Tidak ada garis depan – tidak lagi bagaimanapun – ada jalan ini yang gang, sebuah bunker di sini, sebuah pelanggaran di dinding ada dan hanya imajinasi anak-anak yang dapat digunakan untuk menavigasi medan perang ini. “Itu tidak bisa,” Rusia telah datang dekat
ini, “dan baru-baru ini,” bisikku ketika aku bersandar melawan roda tangki mereka membara. “Anda harus berpikir pada kaki Anda untuk tetap dalam permainan ini,” mengingatkan saya sendiri, “hanya hidup cepat ke ujung pagi di lingkungan saya.” Kelangsungan hidup adalah yang sederhana
seperti melihat penuh pada helm sebelum helm yang melihat Anda. “Setiap kali kita mendorong mereka kembali, api mereka mencair kami lebih jauh, semua orang yang saya tahu adalah mati,” mengingatkan diri saya, “ada sesuatu yang bisa dikatakan untuk itu.” Aku tidak pernah menyangkal diri hak istimewa bersenang-senang dalam kematian saya sendiri. *** Tiba di Fuhrer-bunker akhirnya, aku merangkak naik ke pintu masuk utusan itu, di mana setelah saya menemukan diri dalam keheningan jauh akrab dan keamanan taman luar Kanselir Reich's. Memperlambat langkah saya, napas saya menangkap dengan saya sebagai hati-hati aku melanjutkan ke halaman utama dimana penjaga di sana, patung pusing seorang pria mungkin mabuk lagi mencoba untuk menghentikan saya. Aku berteriak padanya, “mendapatkan tangan Anda dari saya pesan ini adalah untuk Fuhrer!” Dia tidak membiarkan pergi. Saya ulangi sendiri. Dia menarikku lebih dekat, meliputi mulut saya dan berkata, “Diam!” Saat ia
melihat sekitar, “kau terlambat.” Saya tidak terlalu terlambat. Saya pernah terlambat. “Yang Fuhrer hilang.” “Pergi?” Aku gema melalui tangannya –
kata semua orang menggunakan untuk mati hari ini, tak seorang pun pernah mati lagi mereka hanya pergi. “Pergi?” Saya ulangi sekarang bebas untuk berbicara, “apa maksudmu?” “Tidak, tidak, tidak seperti itu hilang,”
dia menjawab sambil menunjuk ke arah langit, saat jarinya menghasilkan objek kecil, sebuah pesawat ringan mengangkat atas kota. “Pergi,” katanya, “Fuhrer telah meninggalkan Dia melarikan diri ke selatan untuk Bavaria..” ~~~ “Saya tidak berpikir saya bisa membuat
Anda keluar dari sana dalam waktu,” teriak saya selama mesin meraung saat aku berpaling untuk melihat ke dalam bahwa refleksi masih diam dari sebuah wajah yang kosong, menatap ke dalam reruntuhan bersinar ibukota sekali berkembang kami, sekarang hancur di bawah telapak kaki Tentara Merah maju. Ditarik ke dalam
refleksi, saya bisa melihat dalam mata yang menghantui kehilangan nafsu dari seribu penakluk ditaklukkan, bahkan dalam kekalahan orang ini adalah memabukkan. “Anda menempatkan sebuah melawan berani,” diredakan saya keinginan saya, “tapi kau tidak bisa menyalahkan diri sendiri dengan hasil ini Anda membuat semua gerakan yang benar pada saat yang Hak nasib hanya tidak dengan Anda yang satu ini…” “Aku
bisa melakukannya lebih baik, Hanna,” menghancurkan keheningan berteletele saya. “Aduh, Mein Fuhrer,” aku melanjutkan,
“bisa ini telah ada cara lain? Anda masih akan menang pada akhirnya. Saya yakin akan hal ini,” aku lucu seperti berenang di sayap membawa tindakan saya kembali ke kontrol. Apakah aku masih berbicara? Dia tidak mungkin tahu aku hampir terbang pesawat ini untuk melihat saya sekarang. Apa yang saya katakan? Apakah itu penting? Apakah salah satu dari kita mendengarkan? “Aku terakhir kali lebih baik,” sela dia
dengan semangat yang menakjubkan, goyang
sebagainya dan kembali di tempat duduknya saat ia berbalik ke arahku. Tapi menyipitkan mata bantuan saya untuk kelanjutan nya hanya melihat keakraban kegagalan's menundukkan pandangannya kembali ke dalam penghakiman diam dari pedesaan Jerman aliran oleh bawah kami, seperti kami terbang rendah melalui koridor yang aman kami ke selatan diadakan terbuka di biaya begitu banyak kehidupan. Apakah dia bernilai itu? Aku bertanya-tanya untuk momen singkat, tetapi tidak ada jawaban datang dan aku tidak ingin satu jika hal itu. Hal ini tidak bagi saya untuk mengajukan pertanyaan seperti itu. Keheningan itu mengejutkan saya. *** Tiba dengan selamat, mendarat seperti akhir mimpi itu, dengung dari motor saya pikir mungkin tuli saya untuk apapun Fuhrer dikatakan sebagai pendekatan kami, dia murmur sesuatu yang saya tidak mengerti, dan tidak berani memintanya untuk mengulang. Yang berdesak-desakan dari rumput kasar di bawah roda membangunkan saya. Jantung saya berdetak lagi. Sebuah
penjaga SS berlari ke sisi pesawat dan membuka pintu. Hitler ternyata untuk keluar, tapi berhenti. Dia kembali, melihat jauh ke dalam mata saya – hampir melalui aku – dan berkata, “maafkan saya.” Aku membeku sebagai ocehan mengisi tenggorokan saya, tetapi mengatakan apa-apa dengan menelan saat ia bersandar keluar kata-kata terakhirnya, “Aku akan melakukan lebih baik di masa depan.” “Saya yakin anda akan, Mein Fuhrer!”
Aku menjawab dengan menyembur, atau berpikir saya lakukan. Saya tidak bisa mengatakan dengan pasti aku berkata apaapa… mungkin dia tidak baik. ~~~ Beringsut ke dalam mobil lapis baja menunggu saya, kami menyapu off melalui pedesaan. “Laporan terbaru mengantisipasi Tentara Merah bisa berada di sini setiap saat kelemahan tak terduga,” kata SS atas Petugas untuk Hitler, “tidak ada kedua akan hilang!” Merasa berat badan ini, saya tekan pada bahkan lebih cepat terhadap rahasia disimpan terbaik dari perang dan keselamatan hanya
saya bayangkan menyelamatkan saya, pendek melarikan diri ke barat untuk menyerah kepada Angkatan Darat Amerika. Tidak, di belakang perbatasan garis depan kita berbaring Negara jerman Ketiga nasib saya, dimana saya harus dibantu tanpa disadari dalam perbudakan jiwa yang tak terhitung jumlahnya, yang penciptaan Aku takut akan segera melihat kami bergabung dengan mereka, di kuburan dangkal mereka, menyusuri jalan tanah berliku lama kita pergi ke tujuan kita: sebuah horor diatasi posisi defensif tidak ada tentara rasional bisa pelanggaran, untuk menjaga hadiah tidak ada orang rasional akan menolak. Masa depan Negara jerman Ketiga dan kemenangan Soviet Rusia berdarah untuk berbaring dalam gunung ini benteng kita. Pertahanan eksternal Nya duduk di siap seperti yang kita, dengan sisa-sisa pasukan elit kita SS di belakang kami – setelah meninggalkan mereka pertahanan Berlin – mengalir ke selatan, meninggalkan Berlin jatuh ke kekecewaan Tentara Merah Panglima Tertinggi Zhukov di Hitler, tidak ditemukan dalam Surat reruntuhan. Tapi melihat
penipuan ini – hanya setelah fakta – Zhukov, akan membuat pasukannya ke arah selatan tubuh hanya perlawanan yang tersisa di Lebih besar Jerman… kita.
Bab 2 Berjuang
M
elihat
selatan
ke
Cekoslovakia
di
gunung yang berdiri sebagai satu pertempuran membosankan lebih dalam garis tampaknya tak berujung manuver antara saya dan akhir perang ini mengerikan, aku mengingatkan diriku, “memiliki kemenangan total tidak terkecuali.” Seperti Pertempuran untuk Berlin belakang kami ini benteng Bohemia sebelum saya adalah untuk menjadi semata-mata Merah tentara hadiah dan aku hanya menyaksikan barat. Divisi saya dengan Angkatan Darat 1 sebagai untuk barat menarik-narik keinginan sia-sia saya sebagai enggan aku melihat
pendekatan tentara sekutu kami '. Tidak satu yang bersifat taktis saya harus mengakui. Mereka melakukan apa-apa diam-diam dan saya sebagai penghubung tertanam dengan mereka, untuk mengkoordinasikan akhirnya bertemu dengan anak laki-laki kita di Sungai Elbe kembali di Jerman, bisa berbuat apa-apa untuk mencegah hal ini. Meskipun inferioritas Jerman, saya akan melihat mereka secara rutin kekalahan pasukan jauh lebih unggul karena kurangnya nuansa yang sangat sekutu Rusia kita ditampilkan dengan keyakinan tersebut. “Seperti memukul lalat dengan palu,” solusi tunggal Tentara Merah untuk manuver tak kenal lelah Nazi's. Mereka sering akan mengejar secara membabi buta setelah terbayangkan, bahkan mitos dan selalu hambatan akhir tak terhindarkan malapetaka dengan kolom mereka tidak pernah berakhir dari tentara dan mesin hanya untuk menemukan hanya diri mereka sendiri, “gagal di setiap kesempatan untuk mencapai bahkan definisi paling rasional kemenangan,” di wajah musuh kita. Untuk
menonton
sekutu
kami
di
lapangan adalah sebagai saya catat dalam beberapa minggu saya singkat dengan mereka, seperti melihat kematian dan penderitaan lambat dari salah satu binatang alam termulia. Seolah puitis dan mulia sebagai bodoh dan menyiksa untuk melihat begitu banyak kehidupan dibuang ke dalam api untuk memenuhi jadwal realistis dari seorang tiran. Mereka menang dan kalah namun entah bagaimana setiap pertempuran mereka yang pernah masuk ke dalam dan itu adalah untuk mengatakan bahwa, “pasti ada tentara menentang pernah diderita prajurit yang sama dua kali. “Stalin,”
Kepala Negara ini Soviet kebingungan berdiri sebagai, “satu lagi Kaisar Rusia menuntut kemenangan sebagai hasil hanya untuk setiap peperangan yang tidak ada biaya terlalu tinggi untuk mendapatkan.” Tentara Merah darah mengalir dalam mengejar tujuan orang ini tidak seperti sejarah tentara yang pernah disaksikan. Soviet telah tersapu tanah yang diduduki Nazi Ibu mereka Rusia bersih dengan darah dari jutaan kaum tani terhitung wajib militer yang mereka berpakaian dan disajikan sebagai
tentara sebelum saya hari ini. “Apa itu semua?” Aku bertanya pada
diriku sendiri terus-menerus. “Untuk hadiah, Jenderal janggal berat memberatkan satu medali lebih diperoleh pada biaya beberapa ratus ribu jiwa lebih, atau untuk mengklaim kembali hak untuk memerintah lagi orangorang yang hanya kematian yang terakhir telah diberikan mereka.” Penghinaan untuk, “metodologi sistem mereka,” adalah apa menonton Tentara Merah membawa, dan sebagai empedu naik di tenggorokan saya untuk berbicara dengan ini, “sekutu kami,” Saya harus mengukur setiap emosi dalam bergumam sebelum ini diucapkan, sehingga tidak risiko generasi masa depan pemuda gagah mereka yang tertusuk di bayonet kita sendiri atas nama beberapa penghinaan yang dirasakan atau pengkhianatan melalui Komandan mata mereka. Mengumpulkan pikiran saya hanya pendek dari gangguan saya kehilangan kebanggaan saya dan mengingatkan diriku, bahwa di sini dan sekarang ini pembunuh anak muda Rusia, “lebih rendah dari dua kejahatan.” Bahwa ini merupakan
kesempatan kami untuk menggunakan satu kejahatan yang harus menyingkirkan lain pada jauh lebih sedikit dari biaya untuk memiliki kita daripada pernah bisa mungkin, kita harus mencoba untuk terbebas dari mereka berdua sendiri. Itu adalah moralitas hanya dijual kebakaran tidak akan hadir; setiap kecenderungan lain didikte satu lebih baik dari dua. *** Pembenaran menjelma menunjukkan dirinya dengan lengan mekanik kedatangan Tentara Merah. Sebuah kata heran tidak pernah bisa menggambarkan dengan benar. Akhir ini dalam perang mereka pada iseng menerjunkan ribuan tank dan artileri terhitung, yang masih berhasil gagal memenuhi potensi mereka, mengarah ke penarikan pernah ditebak agar tidak menghancurkan pasukan mereka sendiri kemajuan yang akan berbagi dalam ketidakmampuan keseluruhan serangan mereka. Bahwa waktu dan lagi, menemukan Nazi kembali stasiun mereka siap untuk memberikan kesaksian ke pasang naik berikutnya darah anak pertanian.
Sebuah gaya orang seperti yang saya hanya mendengar sebagai badai di cakrawala, sementara selatan Berlin dibebaskan dirinya dari dalam mesin ini ke kubu gunung Nazi. Itu adalah prosedur operasi standar untuk Tentara Merah untuk membuka setiap pengepungan dengan cara ini aku mendesah, seperti standar seperti yang bagi Nazi SS divisi untuk bertahan hidup ini sebagian besar serangan meratakan tanah utuh dan keesokan harinya akan tidak terkecuali. Hutan di sekitar benteng gunung dikurangi menjadi tunggul, dan field dari rentetan malam sebelumnya melihat pertahanan eksternal Nazi hancur dan belum, formasi baru medan's kacau tetap sama dipertahankan dan dengan demikian, tarian dilakukan di banyak seperti sebelumnya. Dihindari tersingkap di depan mata saya, saya melihat karena aku tidak bisa berpaling dari ini tontonan kehancuran, “mengherankan dalam daya tarik hipnotis nya.” Pasukan Nazi digantikan oleh tumpukan mayat Tentara Merah terlalu dalam untuk berjalan melalui, tapi bahkan itu tidak akan berhenti baju besi mereka maju.
Ini tidak dapat terjadi lagi! Aku menjerit dalam hati, tetapi tidak berdaya untuk mengubah kursus ini musibah sebagai Zhukov berdiri tegas terhadap api. Logika tindakannya terhuyung-huyung saya. Orang ini, pemesanan gelombang demi gelombang prajurit untuk membuka satu kaki lebih dari tanah dengan darah Rusia, tidak punya tempat untuk pergi, tapi maju. Pengakuan cacat Nya tidak ada, aku bisa membaca bahwa di matanya, itu adalah hidup mereka atau nya dan setiap serangan gagal berikutnya terus karena kebenaran itu tidak akan ditolak, dia mendapatkan tanah.
Bab 3 Kanan
H
ari berikutnya memenangkan lapangan
dengan biaya dalam kehidupan yang secepat yang dikocok pergi oleh tentara yang sama besar agar tidak menggumpal aliran. Kendala berikutnya, pertahanan terowongan – menuju gunung benteng – itu harus ditaklukkan melalui serangkaian serangan terkoordinasi tangki. “Yang Josef Stalin III Berat Tangki,” Alexei
pasangan saya berkata sambil tersenyum sebagai monster ini membuat debut mereka di lapangan. “Yang terakhir di gudang senjata Soviet,” dia berseri-seri, sebagai raksasa ini kedap maju ke arah pintu masuk terowongan
gemuruh masa lalu ruang istirahat pengamatan kita lebih dari seratus meter jauhnya, gemetar segala sesuatu di sekitar saya. Tidak sesaat terlambat baik tank ini merupakan potongan hampir padat baja hanya dibedakan oleh meriam mencuat keluar dari menara bulat mereka, adalah untuk menjadi kejutan yang Nazi tidak memiliki jawaban. Umumnya terkesan, tetapi kurang bersedia untuk menyaksikan satu menggumpal lebih heroik, kelaparan saya dan saya mundur di jalan ke markas lapangan baru terbentuk untuk makan dan untuk mengamati operasi seperti yang sering saya lakukan. Alexei, tidak pernah lebih dari satu atau dua langkah di belakangku bergabung dengan kami sebagai kami menemukan makanan kita – setidaknya aku berharap ini akan makan. Kurang dari kegembiraan garis depan dan tidak ingin menghadap ke bawah makan apa pun di sini tanpa gangguan – aku mencari jalan tengah antara kematian dan menatap kosong ke ruang angkasa, yang saya temukan di sebuah Prajurit yang dicemooh oleh Sersan
nya – sementara saya memikirkan rencana saya sendiri serangan pada hari ini tidak adil makanan. Mencari lebih aman untuk mendekati Sersan, kami mengikutinya dari garis makanan dan dengan terlihat beberapa pilihan segera membahas masalah ia telah membicarakan dengan nya mencemooh dan mundur murid. Ini adalah apa yang ia diberhentikan sebagai tidak lebih dari fantasi seorang anak peternakan naif's: SS Tentara ditembak hanya untuk bangun setelah itu, yang ia dengan cepat minta sebagai, “terluka atau mungkin seorang tentara dari arah yang sama.” Melihat sedih pada kata-katanya meskipun, ia berhenti sejenak – mengambil di pahaman penuh seragam Angkatan Darat Amerika saya, membungkuk dalam dan dengan tenang berkata kepada kami, “Saya telah melihat ini juga.” Aku menatap Sersan Rusia dengan mata skeptis, sebagai Alexei melangkah pergi menuju meja makan. Yang Sersan menjawab, “bahwa adalah respon yang tepat saya terima dari Kapten saya.” Aku menggeleng. Dia berkata, “jadi aku Menghancurkan Tangan ini Rumor Pertama, tapi sungguh,” melihat dia
dengan hati-hati di sekitar tenda, “Saya telah melihat ini sendiri.” “Itu adalah beberapa bulan yang lalu,”
lanjutnya saat aku berjalan menuju meja tempat Alexei duduk, “kami tinggal di sebuah rumah di jalan rel ketika kurir tiba. Dia mengatakan kepada kami bahwa kami harus kembali berurusan dengan gelombang pejuang – bukan misi biasa. Ketika kami tiba di situs ada ada yang bisa dilihat pada awalnya, seri maka tembakan datang pada kita dari sebuah rumah di atas bukit. Kami diapit posisi mereka, berputar-putar dengan matahari di punggung kami. Saat itu, perjuangan cukup mudah, kita kehilangan hanya empat orang, mereka selusin atau lebih.” Bersandar dalam sedikit lebih dekat sebagai suaranya tumbuh lebih tenang, “menggambar gudang belakang rumah perhatian penembak jitu saya, dia terus menembak Pejabat Nazi SS mencoba untuk membangun kembali posisi mereka, saya mengatakan kepadanya harus ada sarang seluruh mereka di sana, jadi kami. Meminta dukungan artileri dan sekitar tengah hari
gudang bertiup ke serpihan. “Jadi akhirnya, kami berjalan mendaki
bukit dan apa yang Anda harapkan kami temukan?” Terpesona Aku berkedip. “Kami menemukan Petugas tunggal, duduk di sana tertusuk melalui rusuk dari kekuatan ledakan artileri – dengan salah satu alat pertanian panen – di mana kita mengharapkan menemukan tumpukan seluruh mereka, dan untuk semua aku tahu dia tidak ada off buruk, jadi aku tersenyum padanya dan menembaknya di dada Dia tersenyum. Kembali. Senyum saya jatuh ke tanah saat aku menembak beberapa kali lagi, tapi tidak ada salah apa yang saya lihat, orang ini tidak akan mati. Setiap kali aku menembaknya itu tampak seperti sedikit lebih daripada aku meninju Anda di lengan. “Pokoknya,” tampak Sersan sekitar lagi,
“membawa kita dia tawanan, menyuruh dia kembali dan pindah tanpa kata yang diucapkan lain tentang hal itu, karena satusatunya kata yang penting turun dari atas; Untuk menahan Palsu Rumor ini mengalah,” dia berkata keras, “Dan aku lakukan!”
Aku melihat sekeliling mencari reaksi – saya menangani Alexei, yang memiliki panjang sejak selesai makan nya, membuat saya perhatikan saya juga, selesai saya – tetapi tidak menemukannya, saat ia duduk sekarang tertidur tampaknya tidak tertarik dalam diskusi kita, jadi saya dilanjutkan dengan Sersan, “ini bukan cerita biasa?” Dia mengerutkan kening, “aku harus pergi,” mengambil catatan disposisi Alexei dan mengangguk berkata, “ini satu-satunya kebenaran aku tahu.” “Tapi,” kataku sambil berdiri dan berjalan
keluar, “…Bagus tahu Anda,” dan menyikut mitra saya yang berdiri di atas perintah dan kami berjalan di luar juga. Alexei, memimpin jalan melambat lalu berhenti antara truk yang diparkir, berbalik ke arahku dan memperingatkan, “bahwa adalah Bukan hal terbaik untuk dilakukan di sini.” “Aku
Bukan dari sekitar sini,” aku
tersenyum. “Hanya perlu diingat, kebenaran adalah
hal yang berbahaya.”
“Tentu saja Kamerad,” aku mengangguk,
“mari kita kembali ke pertempuran yang kemudian.”
keselamatan
Menimbulkan kebencian oleh sarkasme saya, Alexei melanjutkan perjalanan kita kembali, “sampai Anda mengerti prioritas pertama; kebenaran tidak memiliki makna.” Aku mendongak seperti aku sedang mendengarkan saat ia mengatakan apa-apa, jadi aku bertanya, “Anda tidak menemukan kebenaran menjadi jangkar di dunia yang dinyatakan semrawut?” “Kebenaran harus jangkar siapa aku?” Ia
menjawab, yang saya mengatakan apa-apa dan dalam keheningan saya ia melanjutkan. “Anda memiliki minimal dua kebenaran bahkan dalam kasus terbaik:. Kebenaran orang yang benar, dan kebenaran dari orang yang salah Kemampuan untuk memutuskan perbedaan, yang diambil dari kita sendiri mendefinisikan prioritas bagi kita yang benar dari salah. “Tanpa
prioritas kita tidak bisa mengatakan dengan tingkat kepastian apakah benar ada sama sekali. Tanpa itu kita hanya
memiliki dua orang setiap menceritakan versi mereka dari suatu peristiwa ini. Hanya dengan prioritas kita bahwa kita mendefinisikan kebenaran satu terhadap yang lain, dan melalui sesuatu yang sewenangwenang sebagai prioritas kita memutuskan apa kebenaran itu.” Aku berjalan di dalam diam sebelum berkata, “kebenaran bagi saya tidak lebih dari apa yang mayoritas orang setuju atas. Kebenaran diuji dari waktu ke waktu,” menatap aku turun di kaki kami berbaris, “dan tidak bisa dipungkiri sampai gagal memenuhi bahwa uji.” Saya menendang batu dari jalan, “di mana titik itu disesuaikan untuk menebus kegagalan tersebut. “Kebenaran tetap tujuan kami walaupun
beban itu mungkin menghadapi, karena kita tidak selalu mengetahui kebenaran yang kita cari,” kaki saya sakit, “dan jalan kita ke arah itu jarang lurus,” aku tertatih-tatih, “tapi kami tetap mengikutinya,” Aku melangkah di atas batu berikutnya, “dan lebih baik, dan lebih bijaksana untuk percobaan kegagalan kita memaksa kita untuk bertahan.”
“Jadi prioritas Anda adalah kebenaran?”
Alexei tanya kami berjalan di menuju kebenaran hanya kami berdua berbagi: ini akan menjadi lain sore membayar kekurangan perhatian hati-hati ke lubang merokok di sisi gunung di depan kita, dan tidak ada cara di bumi yang makan. *** Yang Merah memenangkan terowongan menuju gunung bawah tanah Nazi benteng sementara kami sedang pergi. Sekarang di dalam pertempuran gunung, dalam apa laporan lengkap diadakan sebagai besar dan baik membela gua jauh di dalam interiornya, petunjuk lebih lanjut dari rekening menahan laki-laki tidak mati ketika mereka seharusnya, menjadi jelas. Alexei telah menyarankan aku mengabaikan rumor tersebut sebagai fantasi, dan apakah untuk Abraham saja, karena kekafiran mengomel sendiri saya, atau hanya karena informasi tersebut tidak ditindaklanjuti dari posisi saya, saya diperbolehkan keingintahuan ini lewat tanpa gangguan lebih lanjut. Tapi dalam pikiran saya sendiri, kanan
sepanjang dengan adanya sekali dikabarkan sangat benteng dari sekarang kita berdiri di depan, aku tahu konsensus berarti sesuatu. Diberhentikan sebagai mitos populer oleh Staf Umum Rusia, frekuensi laporan-laporan ini semakin sulit untuk diabaikan. “Apa yang biasa keberanian orang-orang ini,” Zhukov sendiri dikabarkan telah berkata, “apa yang bisa kulakukan dengan orang-orang sekaliber itu.”
Bab 4 Cahaya
S
udah
lewat
tengah
malam
ketika
serangkaian jeritan dan kepulan asap dari pintu masuk terowongan menarik perhatian kita ke foto lain yang mungkin menghantui saya baik di luar kubur. “Mengapa aku di sini?” Aku menggeram telapak saya menggali cukup dalam ke dalam mata saya bahwa akhirnya aku mungkin buta terhadap kegilaan ini dan bersumpah saya – sampai berita datang kami mengendalikan terowongan dan gua sebelah, yang saya bahkan tidak meminta biaya. Mungkin pertanyaan saya sebelumnya menahan membuat saya berhati-hati dari apa
yang saya harus bertanya host saya, atau mungkin aku tidak bisa hidup dengan diriku sendiri mengetahui rincian lengkap dari apa yang saya saksikan. Pertempuran menggambar untuk menutup, ini akan cukup, dan sebagai penjaga benteng berkurang menjadi jelas bahwa mereka bisa dibunuh, bahwa rumor ini hanyalah hal-hal fantasi pertanian anak. Nazi's SS terkalahkan telah memudar ke dalam sejarah dan tidak ada lagi penting. *** Hitler – Aku tidak dekat Komandan Zhukov ketika berita melanda – ditangkap malam itu, hidup! Aku tahu saat ini dikombinasikan dengan kesombongan Zhukov's; ego itu akan berada di dalam tiket saya. Bergerak cepat saya berkumpul di titik aku tahu dia akan menyeberang, dan benar saja saat ia mendekati saya menyapu di bangun sebagai menyenangkan kepastian hanya lebih dari musuh yang ditaklukkan adalah saksi ke catatan daripadanya, dan ke dalam benteng kita pergi. Pikiran saya berpacu lebih cepat dari
pulsa saya sebagai saya menyerap setiap detail yang saya lihat. Benteng ini merupakan hal legenda lahir dari, pikirku sambil mengikuti mereka sampai terowongan panjang ke gunung. Hari penutupan perang ini kepada kita. Penjarahan itu tidak jauh, yang antara tujuan saya lebih taktis yang mana saya datang: untuk membuat catatan instalasi semacam ini, mengingat lokasinya jauh di dalam wilayah pengetahuan yang dikuasai Tentara Merah keberadaannya adalah tidak tersedia untuk Amerika Intelijen. Setelah kenaikan singkat kami melewati terowongan gelap disertai hanya dengan senyum panjang saya kami memasuki sebuah kamar. Sebuah ruang gua besar, seperti kita telah berjalan keluar lagi. Aku mendongak tidak ada bintang, maupun langit-langit aku bisa melihat melalui asap memenuhi udara. Sebuah gua besar tercakup dalam sebagian besar hancur labirin perangkap tangki dan rintangan kawat berduri terbuka di depanku, memisahkan kita dari struktur bertingkat berpakaian terbakar keluar sarang senapan mesin dan posisi artileri membentuk dinding seberang beberapa ratus meter jauhnya.
Untuk sebelah kiri bersinar cahaya terang keluar dari balik pintu besar tertiup angin engselnya. Itu terhadap cahaya ini pihak kami berkembang menjadi sebuah terowongan kedua yang lebih kecil berbaris dengan jendela melalui mana kita bisa melihat samarsamar berkedip air disaring cahaya. Kami melewati bawah sebuah kolam besar air di dalam gunung. Melalui rasa ingin tahu dalam diam bermata lebar setiap anggota partai kita berlalu, menghilangkan kekafiran mereka dari tontonan ke orang berikutnya saat mereka melangkah ke dalam keselamatan lebih akrab dan keamanan lorong berdinding granit berjendela luar. “Sebuah ruang yang sangat besar tergantung di kulit berair sekitar dua puluh lima meter di sekitarnya,” kata petugas mengarah ke Zhukov dari lingkungan baru kita sebagai mereka masuk tanpa disadari atau tidak peduli dengan kehadiran saya. Saya terus mengikuti pada jarak waspada melalui ruang yang lebih kompleks kedua. Menyusuri lorong panjang, sekitar satu sudut, menyusuri lorong kedua lebih lama, sampai belasan penerbangan tangga, di sepanjang
lorong lain ke dalam ruangan besar yang mengarah ke ruangan lain ke kiri, tapi penjaga menghentikan saya pada saat ini. Zhukov, masih di depan saya berhenti di tepi garis saya penglihatan. Aku melangkah ke samping tapi waspada terjebak rusukku dengan popor senapannya – ini sejauh yang saya pergi. Tapi, mendengar Zhukov mengatakan sesuatu yang tidak, saya tidak bisa membantu tetapi bersandar ke depan sebagai nada hampir menghormati katakatanya ditarikan oleh saya. Penjaga itu berpaling pada ini juga, dan aku menyelinap benar dan menangkap melihat tambang terpojok Zhukov's. Di sana ia adalah seorang pria tua pendek, berkumis lucu semua yang saya butuhkan untuk melihat, dia dinyatakan terus terang tidak tampak bagian – mereka tidak pernah lakukan. Tiba-tiba berteriak dalam bahasa Jerman menusuk gendang telinga saya, itu Hitler baik-baik saja dan apa suara, orang ini diperintahkan di sekelilingnya. Aku terkejut tidak melihat jatuh Zhukov ke garis belakang menggonggong sebagai itu bergema di dinding granit. Aku tahu aku merasa
sendiri, seperti beberapa kekuatan agung menarikku tentu saja. Berteriak-teriak terus, itu tumbuh akhir keras dan banyak lagi. Sesuatu datang dan di bawah Hitler berteriak aku mendengar suara kedua di Rusia mengatakan, “aku bilang ini benar Kau! Tidak percaya padaku,” kata Kolonel berjalan Zhukov masa lalu. “Lihatlah dia!” Ia menuntut. “Itu darahnya, apakah ia tampak terluka?” Sekarang berdiri di depanNya Komandan, Kolonel menatap intens sebagai penghinaan di mata Zhukov perlahan-lahan bergeser ke arah dirinya sendiri. Dia menarik pistolnya, berbalik dan menembak: sekali, dua kali dan Hitler jatuh ke lantai. Zhukov mendorong Kolonel dan setiap penjaga di ruangan dengan cepat menumpuk ke orang itu, tapi sudah terlambat. Hitler berbaring di lantai – aku pindah di dekat – dia pendarahan parah. Kolonel berteriak, “menonton dia!” Dari bawah tumpukan penjaga saat Hitler mulai menggeliat; tergelincir sekitar, mencari traksi dan menemukannya. Zhukov dan semua orang masih berdiri mundur selangkah mental, jika
tidak secara fisik seperti yang saya lakukan dan menatap sebagai Hitler naik seperti berteriak yang diikuti. Kedengarannya seperti pidato begitu banyak aku mendengar di radio. Orang ini sekali lagi berdiri di depan saya adalah dia mayat hidup… dihancurkan… supranatural? Mungkinkah dia telah menjadi penyelamat suci begitu banyak orang mengira dia mungkin? Ia memerintahkan sebuah ruangan cukup baik tapi magnet selain apa yang saya lihat? Bagaimana ini terjadi? Zhukov, pikiran saya dengan jelas berbagi menarik pistolnya pada Kolonel tetapi berbalik dan bertujuan mantap di bahu Hitler. Ruangan terdiam. Detik berlalu menit seperti. Apakah ia api? Apakah aku merindukannya? DOR! Semua orang melompat kecuali Hitler, yang jatuh kembali tetapi tertangkap dirinya sebagai darah peredam seragam di tempat yang lebih tinggi menetes ke lantai. Tapi dengan cepat menguatkan dari tembakan, ia kembali ketenangannya, mengangkat kepalanya dan memandang kami sebagai Zhukov menembak lagi, dan lagi, dan lagi, sampai pistol
dikosongkan dan asap memenuhi ruangan. Hitler meluncur menuruni dinding belakang, bernapas… Dia menghela napas. Aku menarik napas. Kita semua bernafas. Zhukov beban – Aku bergerak lebih dekat – dia berdiri memandangi pistol terbuka memastikan tampaknya peluru cukup terasa berat, bahwa mereka masuk ke gelas hanya kanan, lalu menatap lurus ke depan sebagai pistol terpejam, namun Hitler masih terbaring di lantai. Zhukov bergerak mendekat, membungkuk, menunduk dan menggumamkan sesuatu – Saya tidak mendengar – tetapi melebar mata Hitler dan pada kata-kata dia berdiri lagi, perlahanlahan mengumpulkan dirinya sendiri. Dia meluruskan rambutnya – untuk sisi yang salah seperti biasa – disesuaikan seragam dan tampak mati depan sebagai Zhukov melangkah mundur. Kepatuhan di tangan, mungkin pemahaman sudah dicapai, tetapi siapa yang melayani siapa? Aku melangkah kembali sebagai Hitler bangkit lagi mendominasi ujung ruangan,
lengan kanannya dorong sampai dengan salut fasis diikuti oleh satu baik menyalak, “Seig!” Yang dikirim Zhukov berpaling ke arahku. Melihat seorang penjaga dengan senapan mesin pada harus siap gagal ditanggungkan atas kami, gugup takjub saya dibagi antara ukuran Fac e-buku penjaga itu, yang masih melekat erat dan Zhukov, yang memiliki kembali pendiriannya, menemukan tandanya, berbaris, dan Hitler merosot. Dia tidak jatuh tapi tampak ke seluruh dunia telah memiliki sebuah episode macam. Aku menatapnya dengan kening berkerut sebagai lengannya jatuh ke sisi-Nya meninggalkan dia goyah untuk keseimbangan. Kami semua menatap dia dengan sebuah inkuisisi. Tidak menonton satu orang merindukan perubahan dalam laku. Cahaya itu hilang. Dia berdiri di sana kecewa, melihat hanya di lantai saat kami memandangnya, kemudian pada masingmasing dari kita dengan tatapan membingungkan dan pagar wajah yang bersaing untuk perhatian kita. Tapi itu palu di Zhukov mencengkeram erat-erat pistol, mengklik kembali, yang memenangkan
pertandingan ini sebagai fokus semua orang menemukannya fokus hanya pada Hitler. Penjaga Sebuah melangkah ke dalam ruangan berkata, “benteng aman,” sebagai Zhukov, dengan pistol mantap menembakkan peluru yang melanda Hitler tepat di atas alis, dan ia pingsan dengan bunyi gedebuk yang membekukan ruangan seperti foto. Sebuah tunggal gulungan asap menantang emulsi meluncur dari laras senapan Zhukov dan kecuali hatiku sendiri aku mendengar apaapa, tetapi rasa sakit. Kami menatap tubuh kusut Hitler tergeletak di lantai, bertanya-tanya apakah ada bisa salah setiap saat ini. Kami menatap dan menatap, bukan atas? Tahun mustahil Begitu banyak, tak terhitung jutaan dibunuh di setiap sisi – dia tidak bergerak – oleh orang gila membela mereka, tapi dalam kegilaan kedua hanya pergi. Menit berlalu dalam keheningan. Zhukov berdiri menatap musuh nya jatuh. Yang lain, satu per satu mundur ke kemenangan, meninggalkan kami terperangkap oleh gravitasi besar berasal dari tubuh di ujung
ruangan. Aku ingin bergerak, tapi tidak bisa. Zhukov, hanya pendek menjadi patung melangkah mundur keluar dari foto – kaki saya tidak akan begitu banyak sebagai kedutan. Ini adalah saat seperti beberapa orang lain dan aku tahu apa-apa berarti lebih dari untuk bernafas dalam setiap detail – ia berbalik, berjalan ke arahku dan ketika ia melewati dia menggerutu, “ini tidak pernah terjadi.” *** Aku patung sekarang.
~~
Honor Earth photo help of N.A.S.A.. Explain by Trala Inc.. A Run Naked Make Third Change – First Print 001-3.1-3idpd – 2011-10-13 Part of Earth Copyright © 2007-2013 by Robert Skyler - Do Not Copy All Rights Keep Made in America Tell the world what to think. Make or break this book with a look or rate on it page of buy. All person be in this work are story. Any look to real person, live or dead, is simple chance.
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Part of Earth
Dream
Piece 001
S.S.H.U.T.
“Name Evil”
Simple English Change
Record An epic adventure into mad, this series of short story explore the chain that bind the human spirit to the repeat of survive. ~~~ History, write by the win rare record the event describe as they true took place. Clean and simple is their lesson loss to protect or damn us? At the end of World War II, siege in his bunker, his fantasy crumble around him, Hitler make his escape. South he fly for one last chance, one final stand and one more lesson history forgot to teach us.
First – Simple English
W
hat if people could think for them-self?
No, I do not mean rotate the idea around – once wash, then repeat – to fit like so many chicken in a oven. But every time reach for that spark beyond their react by ask can, I do better than this? And then do it. Can you imagine how danger that could be? This is a voyage through the space between your ear; a vast not tap lone chasm of nothing kept company by only the echo of once intelligence thought, now long since past it expire date. A journey that ask how, instead of what and why, when okay would have done and if, where because was just not sense obscure a truth so personal it could never be under-stood again. Fragment Earth is the trip of a life-time… see you on the other ear.
Part 1 Flight
– Nazi Germany, April 28, 1945 –
I
t is a child fantasy, these past few week in
Berlin. This I know to be true as I have yet to meet an adult who can make sense of what is happen, but we know; it is a pretend fantasy come true and here we are at the heart of mad battle with gun and grenade against artillery attack and bomb raid. In the follow fantastic transform of my real, my duty as messenger – drive me to excite new place that month and even week ago were just my community – keep me sane enough to stave off the creep not sane that own every-thing around me.
I attend school for year in a build which stand behind me today as headquarter of a dream battle against evil. The general store I regular fetch ice from for my mother now lie ahead of me, dark and glow from the low cloud reflect of fire-light through it miss roof, scary shadow pulse out of it window with each new explode flash from the horizon fright me on. These are the forge from which all bad dream come and I imagine they will be so for all time, but even though I am only a child, every new breath I come mean I could still be this dream master. With message secure in vest pocket, I push on with my mission to the Fuhrerbunker. Run alley-way to and through the park I had practice this very game in summer past. Duck down side street from store-front to debris pile, there is no one to be seen these day and even few around this time of morning, except for us soldier. At least I think it morning. The tank I eye to hide behind follow my next sprint was not there yesterday. It life-less hulk stand as high water mark of the last Red Army incur shiver me on, for it prime position
is ideal cover on my current path. There is no front line – not any-more any-way – there is this street that alley, a bunker here, a breach in the wall there and only a child imagine with which to navigate this battle-field. “It can-not be,” the Russian have come
this close, “and so recent,” I whisper as I lean up against the wheel of their burnt tank. “You have to think on your feet to stay in this game,” I remind my-self, “only the quick live to the end of the morning in my community.” Survive is as simple as see the brim on a helmet before that helmet see you. “Each time we push them back, their fire melt us further away; every-one I know is dead,” my-self remind me, “there is some-thing to be said for that.” I never deny my-self the honor of revel in my own mortal. *** Arrive at the Fuhrer-bunker at last, I crawl up into the messenger entrant; where after I find my-self in the distance familiar silent and secure of the out garden of the Reich Chancellery. Slow my pace, my breath catch up with me as caution I proceed into the
main yard where the guard there, a dizzy statue of a man probable drunk again try to stop me. I yell at him, “get your hand off me! This message is for the Fuhrer.” He do not let go. I repeat my-self. He pull me in close, cover my mouth and say, “Quiet!” As he look around, “you are too late.” I am not too late. I am never late. “The Fuhrer is gone.” “Gone?” I echo through his hand – the
word every-one use for dead these day, no one ever die any-more they are just gone. “Gone?” I repeat now free to speak, “what do you mean?” “No, no, not that kind of gone,” he reply
point to the sky, as his finger produce a tiny object, a light air-craft lift up over the city. “Gone,” he say, “the Fuhrer has left. He fled south to Bavaria.” ~~~ “I did not think I could get you out of
there in time,” I shout over the blare engine as I turn to look into that still silence reflect of an empty face, stare down into the glow ruin of our once thrive capital city, now crumble
under the heel of the advance Red Army. Drawn into his reflect, I can see with-in those eye the haunt lost lust of a thousand conquered conqueror; even in defeat this man is intoxicate. “You put up a bold fight,” I appease my desire, “but you can-not blame your-self with this out-come. You made all the right move at all the right time. The fate simply were not with you on this one.” “I could have done better, Hanna,” shatter
the silent of my ramble. “Oh, Mein Fuhrer,” I went on, “could this
have been any other way? You will still be triumph in the end. I am certain of this,” I droll as a dip in the wing bring my action back to the control. Am I still talk? He could not have know I was bare fly this air-craft to see me now. What was I say? Do it matter? Is either of us listen? “I did better, last time,” he interrupt with
astonish zeal, rock forth and back in his seat as he turn to me. But squint my assist to his continue see only fail familiar subdue his gaze back into the silence judge of the German country-side stream by below us, as we fly
low through our safe path to the south held open at the cost of so many live. Is he worth it? I wonder for the brief of time, but no answer come and I would not want one if it did. It is not for me to ask such question. The silent strike me. *** Arrive safe, land like some dream end, the drone of the motor I thought might have deaf me to any-thing the Fuhrer said as on our approach he said some-thing I do not know, and dare not ask him to repeat. The jostle of rough turf under wheel awake me. My heart beat again. An S.S. guard run up to the aircraft side and open the door. Hitler turn to get out, but stop. He turn back, look deep into my eye – almost through me – and say, “forgive me.” I freeze as babble fill my throat but say no-thing with a swallow as he lean to get out his last word, “I will do better next time.” “I am certain you will, Mein Fuhrer!” I
reply in a gush, or think I did. I can-not say for certain I said any-thing at all… maybe he did not either. ~~~
Take into my wait armor car, we sweep off through the country-side. “The new report see the Red Army could be here at any time of not expect weak,” say the sitting S.S. Officer to Hitler, “there is not a second to be lost!” Feel this weight, I press on even fast to the best kept secret of the war and the only solution I imagine might save me, short of flee west to surrender to the American Army. No, behind the front line border of our Third Reich lay my fate; where I had not witting aid in the enslave of count-less soul; whose create I fear would soon see us join them, in their shallow grave, down the long wind dirt road we drove to our destiny: an not surmountable horror of defend position no ration army could breach, to guard a prize no ration man would refuse. The future of the Third Reich and the victory Soviet Russia bled for lay with-in this mountain fortress of our. It out defense sat at the ready as we, with the remnant of our elite S.S. troop behind us – have abandon their Berlin defense – flow south, leave Berlin to fall to the Red Army Supreme Command Zhukov mad at Hitler, not be found in it ruin. But see
this trick – only after the fact – Zhukov, will turn his force south to the only body of resist be in Great Germany… us.
Part 2 Fight
L
ook south into Czechoslovakia at the
mountain which stand as one more hard battle in a seem end-less line of maneuver between me and the end of this horror war, I remind my-self, “total victory has no except.” Like the Battle for Berlin behind us this Bohemian Fort before me was to be sole the Red Army prize and I it only western viewer. My division with the U.S. 1st Army to the west tug at my fruit-less desire as regret I watch the approach of our ally' army. Not one of a tactic nature I had to admit. They did nothing trick and I as liaison embed with them, to plan the event meet up with our boy on the
River Elbe back in Germany, could do nothing to prevent this. No matter the German inferior I would watch them routine defeat far superior force due to this very lack of skill our Russian ally display with such confident. “Like swat fly with a hammer,” the Red Army single solve to the Nazi tire-less maneuver. They would common chase blind after not imagine, even mythic and always not avoid-able disaster final trap with their never end column of soldier and machine only to find only themself, “fail at every turn to achieve even the least ration define of victory,” in the face of our enemy. To watch our ally in the field was as I note in my few short week with them, like see the slow agony death of one of nature noble beast. It was as poetry and glory as ignorance and torture to see so many live thrown into the fire to meet the not real time-table of a tyrant. They won and yet some-how lost every battle they ever enter into and that is to say that, “sure no oppose army ever suffer the same soldier twice.
“Stalin,” head of this Soviet State of
confuse stood as, “yet another Russian Emperor demand victory as the only outcome to any battle for which there were no cost too high in have.” The Red Army blood flow in pursuit of this man goal like no army history had ever see. The Soviet had literal wash the Nazi occupy soil of their Mother Russia clean with the blood of the not count million of it conscript peasantry they dress up and presence as soldier before me today. “What was it all for?” I ask my-self
continue. “To reward, inept General the burden weight of one more medal earn at the cost of a few hundred thousand more live, or to claim back the right to rule over yet another people whom only the death of the last had afford them.” Anger for the, “method of their system,” is what watch the Red Army bring, and as the bile rise in my throat to speak to these, “ally of our,” I must measure every emotion in a mumble before it is spoke, so as not to risk future generation of their stout youth be stab on our own bayonet in the name of some perceive insult or betray through their Command eye.
Collect my thought just short of a breakdown I swallow my pride and remind myself, that right here and right now these murder of Russian youth are, “the less of two evil.” That this is our chance to use one evil to be rid of another at far less of a cost to our own than could ever be possible, should we try to be rid of them both our-self. It was a fire sale only moral would never attend; every other incline dictate one was better than two. *** Justify proof show it-self with the mechanize arm of the Red Army arrive. A wonder word could never describe proper. This late in the war they at a whim field thousand of tank and not count-able artillery piece, which still manage to fail to meet their potence, lead to the ever predict-able retract so as not to destroy their own advance troop who would share in the over-all not competent of their attack. That time and again, found the Nazi back at their station ready to bear see to the next rise tide of farm boy blood. A force the like of which I had only heard
as a thunder-storm on the horizon while south of Berlin release it-self from with-in this machine onto the Nazi mountain fort. It was standard operate procedure for the Red Army to open every siege in this manner I sigh, just as standard as it was for the Nazi S.S. division to survive these ground level attack most intact and the follow morning would be no except. The forest around the mountain fort reduce to stump and field from the previous night barrage saw the Nazi out defense destroy and yet, the terrain new crazy form be equal defend-able and thus, the dance carry on like so many before. Not evitable unfold before my eye, I watch because I could not turn away from this sight of destruct, “confuse in it hypnosis beauty.” The Nazi troop were replace by pile of Red Army corpse too deep to walk through, but even that would not stop their advance armor. This can-not happen any-more! I scream to my-self but was power-less to change this disaster course as Zhukov stood firm against the fire. The logic of his action confuse me. This man, order wave after wave of soldier to
pave one more foot of ground with Russian blood, had no-where to go but forward. His flaw recognize not exist, I could read that in his eye, it was their live or his and as each attack fail the next continue because his truth would not be deny; he was gain ground.
Part 3 Right
T
he follow day won the field with a cost in
live that was as quick be take away by an equal large army so as not to stop the flow. The next trap, the tunnel defense – lead into the mountain fortress – were to be conquered through a series of plan tank attack. “The Josef Stalin III Heavy Tank,” my
counter-part Alexei said with a smile as these monster made their debut on the field. “The new in the Soviet arsenal,” he beam, as these not permeable behemoth advance to the tunnel entrant rumble past our observe dugout more than a hundred yard away, shake every-thing around me. Not a time too late
either these tank an almost solid chunk of steel mark only by the cannon stick out of their bulb turret, were to be the surprise for which the Nazi had no answer. General impress, but less will to see one more hero stop, my hunger and I go up the road to the new form field headquarter for a meal and to observe operate as often I did. Alexei, never more than a step or two behind me join us as we found our meal – at least I hope this would be a meal. Lack from the front line excite and not wish to face down any meal here with-out distract – I search for middle ground between the death and stare blank into space, which I found in a Soldier be mad by his Sergeant – while I ponder my own plan of attack on today not fair faire. Figure it safe to approach the Sergeant, we follow him from the chow line and with a few choice look were soon talk the issue he had been talk with his mad and go disciple. It was what he ignore as no-thing more than a dumb farm boy fantasy: S.S. Soldier shot only to get up after, which he quick
excuse as, “wound or perhaps another soldier from the same direct.” Look sad at his word though, he pause – take in the full not familiar of my American Army uniform, lean in and quiet said to us, “I have seen this as well.” I look at the Russian Sergeant with a skeptic eye, as Alexei step away to the dine table. The Sergeant reply, “that is the exact reply I receive from my Captain.” I shook my head. He said, “so I Crush These Rumor First Hand, but real,” he look care-full around the tent, “I have seen this my-self.” “It was a few month ago,” he continue as I
walk to the table where Alexei sat, “we were stay in a rail house up the road when a messenger arrive. He told us we had to turn back to deal with a surge of resist fight – a common mission. When we arrive on site there was no-thing to be seen at first, then a series of gun-shot came at us from a house up the hill. We flank their position, circle around with the sun at our back. It was, an easy enough fight, we lost only four men, they a dozen or more.” Lean in a little close as his voice grew quiet, “the barn behind the house drew my
sniper attend; he kept shoot Nazi S.S. Officer try to fix their position. I told him there must be a whole nest of them in there, so we call for artillery support and around middle-day the barn blew to piece. “So final, we walk up the hill and what do
you expect we found?” Spell-bound I blink. “We found a single Officer, sit there stab through the rib from the force of the artillery explode – with one of those farm harvest tool – where we had expect to find a whole pile of them, and for all I could tell he was none the worse off, so I smile at him and shot him in the chest. He smile back. My smile fell to the ground as I shot him several more time, but there was no mistake what I was see, this guy would not die. Each time I shot him it look like little more than me punch you in the arm. “Any-way,” the Sergeant look around
again, “we took him prison, sent him back and move on with-out another word spoke about it, because the only word that matter come down from the top; To Quiet These False Defeat Rumor,” he said loud, “And I do!”
I look around search for react – my handle Alexei, whom have long since finish his meal, made me note I had also, finish mine – but found none, as he sat now nod off seem not interest in our talk, so I continue with the Sergeant, “this is a common story?” He frown, “I should be go,” take note of Alexei sleep and nod say, “it the only truth I know.” “But,” I said as he stood and walk out, “…
nice know you,” and nudge my partner who stood on command and we made our way out-side as well. Alexei, lead the way slow then stop between the park truck, turn to me and warn, “that is Not the smart thing to do around here.” “I am Not from around here,” I smile. “Just keep in mind; truth is a danger
thing.” “Of course Comrade,” I nod, “let us get
back to the safe of that battle then.” Antagonise by my game, Alexei continue on our walk back, “until you have first under-
stood it need; truth has no mean.” I look up like I was listen as he said nothing, so I ask, “you do not find truth to be an anchor in an other-wise crazy world?” “Whose truth should anchor me?” He
answer, to which I said no-thing and in my silent he continue. “You have a minimum of two truth even in the best of case: the truth of the person who is right, and the truth of the person who is wrong. The able to decide the differ, drawn from our own need define for us right from wrong. “With-out need we can-not say with any
degree of certain if right exist at all. With-out it we simply have two people each tell their version of an event. It is only with our need that we define the right of one over another, and through some-thing as random as need do we decide what truth is.” I walk on in silent before say, “truth to me is no-thing more than what the major of people agree upon. Truth is test over time,” I stare down at our march feet, “and can-not be deny until it fail to meet that test.” I kick a rock from the road, “at which point it is adapt
to make up for it fail. “Truth be our goal no matter the burden it
may face, for we do not always know the truth we seek,” my toe hurt, “and our path to it is rare straight,” I limp, “but we follow it any-way,” I step over the next rock, “and are better, and wise for the trial our fail force us to live.” “So your need is truth?” Alexei ask as we
walk on to the only truth we both share: this would be another after-noon pay care-full not attend to the smoke hole in the side of the mountain before us, and there was no way on earth that was a meal. *** The Red won the tunnel lead into the Nazi under-ground mountain fortress while we were away. Now in-side the mountain fight, with-in what bad report held as an big and well defend cave deep with-in it interior, further hint of quiet record of men not dying when they were suppose to, became clear. Alexei had said I ignore these rumor as fantasy, and if for his good alone, for my own nag not belief, or simply because such inform
was not action-able from my position I allow these curious to pass with-out further disrupt. But in my own mind, right along with the once rumor exist of the very fortress we now stood in front of, I knew agree mean something. Ignore as popular myth by the Russian General Staff, the common of these report were increase difficult to ignore. “What not common good these men have,” Zhukov himself was rumor to have said, “what I could do with men of that strong.”
Part 4 Light
I
t was well after middle-night when a series
of scream and a puff of smoke from the tunnel entrant drew our attend to yet another image that might haunt me well beyond the grave. “Why am I here?” I growl dig my hand deep enough into my eye that I might final be blind to this mad and swore I was – until news came we were in control of the tunnel and join cave, which I did not even ask the cost of. Maybe my former quiet question made me caution of what I should be ask of my host, or perhaps I could not live with my-self know the full detail of what I had see. The battle was come to a close, this would be
enough, and as the Fort guard die it became clear that they could be kill, that these rumor were just the stuff of farm boy fantasy. The Nazi not vincible S.S. were fade into history and no-thing else matter. *** Hitler – I was not near Command Zhukov when the news hit – was capture that eve, alive! I knew this time combine with Zhukov vane; his ego would be my ticket in-side. Move quick I move on the point I knew he would have to cross, and sure enough as he approach I was swept up in his wake as the only certain more please than a conquered foe is see to the record thereof, and into the Fort we went. My mind race fast than my pulse as I know every detail I saw. This fortress was the stuff legend were born of, I thought while follow them up the long tunnel into the mountain. The close day of this war were upon us. The steal was not far off, which among my more tactic purpose was where I came in: to make note of this sort of install, give it locate deep with-in Red Army control
territory know of it very exist was other-wise not available to American Intelligent. Follow our short hike through the dark tunnel with only my long smile we enter a chamber. A huge cavern space, like we had walk out-side again. I look up there were no star, nor any ceiling I could see through the smoke fill air. A vast cave cover in a most destroy road of tank trap and barb wire trap open up before me, separate us from a multiple-level structure clad in burnt out machine gun nest and artillery position form the oppose wall several hundred feet away. To the left a bright light shine out from beyond a large door blown off it hinge. It was to this light our party move into a small second tunnel line with window through which we could see the faint flick of water filter light. We were pass under a vast pool of water in-side the mountain. Through this curious in wide eye silent each member of our party pass, relieve their not belief of the sight onto the next man as they step into the more familiar safe and secure of the window-less granite wall hall-way beyond. “An big sphere suspend in a water shell some twenty five
meter around it,” the lead officer said to Zhukov of our new sight as they enter not notice or not concern with my present. I continue to follow at a wary distant through the second more complex chamber. Down a long hall-way, around a corner, down a second long hall-way, up a dozen flight of stairs, along another hall-way into a huge room lead to another room to the left, but the guard stop me at this point. Zhukov, still ahead of me stop at the edge of my line of sight. I step to the side but his guard stuck me in the rib with his rifle butt – this was as far as I was go. But hear Zhukov say some-thing not comprehend; I could not help but lean forward as the almost respect-full tone of his word dance by me. The guard turn at this as well, and I slip right and caught sight of Zhukov corner catch. There he was a short old man, the funny mustache all I need to see, he other-wise just did not look the part – they never do. Sudden yell in German pierce my ear, it was Hitler all right and what a voice, this man command all around him. I was surprise not to see Zhukov fall into line behind his bark as it echo off the
granite wall. I know I felt it my-self, like some strong force pull me off course. The shout continue, it grew loud and more final. Some-thing was come and under Hitler yell I heard a second voice in Russian say, “I told you this was true! You did not believe me,” said the Colonel walk past Zhukov. “Look at him!” He demand. “That is his blood, do he look wound?” Now stand in front of his Command, the Colonel stare tense as the anger in Zhukov eye slow shift to himself. He drew his pistol, turn and fire: once, twice and Hitler fell to the floor. Zhukov shove the Colonel and every guard in the room quick pile onto the man, but it was too late. Hitler lay on the floor – I move in close – he was bleed bad. The Colonel yell, “watch him!” From under his pile of guard as Hitler began to move; slip around, look for traction and find it. Zhukov and every-one still stand took a step back mental, if not physical as I did and stare as Hitler rose like the shout which follow. It sound like so many speech I would heard on the radio. This man once again stand
before me was he not dead… not destructable… super-nature? Could he have been the sacred savior so many people thought he might be? He command a room well enough but magnet aside what was I see? How is this so? Zhukov, clear share my thought pull his pistol on the Colonel but turn and aim steady at Hitler side. The room fell silence. Second tick by like minute. Did he fire? Did I miss it? BANG! Every-one jump except Hitler, who fell back but caught him-self as blood dampen his uniform in a high locate drip to the floor. But quick brace from the shot, he gain his calm, lift his head and look up at us as Zhukov fire again, and again, and again, until his pistol empty and smoke fill the room. Hitler slid down the back wall, breathe… He breathe. I breathe. We all breathe. Zhukov reload – I move in close – he stood look down at his open gun make certain it seem the bullet felt heavy enough, that they fit into the gun just right, then look straight ahead as his gun close, but Hitler still lay on the floor. Zhukov move close, lean in, look down
and said some-thing – I did not hear – but it widen Hitler eye and at these word he stood again, slow collect him-self. He straight his hair – to the wrong side as always – adjust his uniform and look dead ahead as Zhukov step back. Agree was at hand, perhaps a deal had been reach but who was serve whom? I step back as Hitler rose again rule the end of the room, his right arm thrust up with the fascist salute follow by a single well bark, “Seig!” That sent Zhukov turn to me. See a guard with machine gun at the ready should fail be upon us, my nerves amaze split between size up that guard, which it was still firm attach to and Zhukov, who have resume his stance, found his mark, line up, and Hitler slump. He did not fall but look to all the world to have had an episode of sort. I look at him with line brow as his arm fell to his side leave him lost for balance. We all look at him with question. No one watch had miss this change in look. The light was gone. He stood there crest-fallen, look only at the floor as we look at him, then at each one of us with wild stare and pale face that compete for our attend. But
it was the hammer on Zhukov tight grip gun, click back, that won this match as every-one focus found him focus only on Hitler. A guard step into the room say, “the fortress is secure,” as Zhukov, with gun steady fire a bullet that struck Hitler just above the eye-brow, and he fall with a thud that froze the room like a photo. A single coil of smoke defy the photo roll off the barrel of Zhukov gun and except for my own heart I heard no-thing but the pain. We stare at the crumple body of Hitler lying on the floor, wonder if there could be any mistake this time. We stare and stare, was it over? So many not possible year, count-less million murder on every side – he did not move – by the mad-men defend them, but in this second the not sane was just gone. Minute pass in silent. Zhukov stood look down at his fall enemy. The other, one by one go into triumph, leave us trap by the great force come from the body at the end of the room. I want to move, but could not. Zhukov, just short of become a statue step back out of the photo – my leg would not so much as
move. This was a time like few other and I knew no-thing matter more than to breathe in every detail – he turn on his heel, walk by me and as he pass he said, “this never happen.” *** I was the statue now.
~~
Credits Earth photo courtesy of N.A.S.A.. A Running Naked Production Third Edition – Second Printing 001-3.2-3idpd – 2011-10-13 Fragment Earth Copyright © 2007-2013 by Robert Skyler All Rights Reserved Made in America Tell the world what to think. Make or break this book with a review or rating on its page of purchase. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Fragment Earth
Conception
Episode 001
S.S.H.U.T.
“Identifying Evil”
English Edition
Summary An epic adventure into madness, this series of short stories explores the chains that bind the human spirit to the repetition of survival. ~~~ History, written by the winner rarely records the events described as they truly took place. Sanitized and simplified is their lesson's loss to protect or condemn us? At the end of World War II, besieged in his bunker, his fantasy crumbling around him, Hitler makes his escape. Southward he flies for one last chance, one final stand and one more lesson history forgot to teach us.
Preface – English
W
hat if people could think for themselves?
No, I don't mean rotating the ideas around – once washed, then repeated – to fit like so many chickens in a rotisserie. But every time reaching for that spark beyond their reaction by asking can, I do better than this? And then doing it. Can you imagine how dangerous that could be? This is a voyage through the space between your ears; a vast untapped lonely chasm of nothingness kept company by only the echoes of once intelligent thought, now long since past its expiration date. A journey that asks how, instead of what and why, when okay would have done and if, where because was just nonsense obscuring a truth so personal it could never be understood again. Fragment Earth is the trip of a lifetime… see you on the other ear.
Chapter 1 Flight
– Nazi Germany, April 28, 1945 –
I
t is a child's fantasy, these past few weeks in
Berlin. This I know to be true as I have yet to meet an adult who can make sense of what is happening, but we understand; it is a pretended fantasy come true and here we are at the heart of madness battling with guns and grenades against artillery attacks and bombing raids. In the ensuing phantasmagoric transformation of my reality, my duties as messenger – driving me to exciting new places that months and even weeks ago were just my neighborhood – keep me lucid enough to stave off the creeping
insanity that owns everything around me. I attended school for years in a building which stands behind me today as headquarters of a dream battle against evil. The general store I regularly fetched ice from for my mother now lies ahead of me, dark and glowing from the low clouds reflection of firelight through its missing roof, eerie shadows pulse out of its windows with each new explosion's flash from the horizon frightening me onward. These are the forges from which all nightmares spawn and I imagine they will remain so for all time, but even though I am only a child, every new breath I draw confirms I could still be this dream's master. With messages secure in vest pocket, I push on with my mission to the Fuhrerbunker. Running alleyways to and through the park I had practiced this very game in summers past. Ducking down side streets from storefront to debris pile, there is no one to be seen these days and even fewer around this time of morning, except for us soldiers. At least I think it's morning.
The tank I eyed to hide behind following my next sprint was not there yesterday. Its lifeless hulk standing as high water mark of the last Red Army incursion shivers me onward, for its prime position is ideal cover on my current path. There is no front line – not anymore anyway – there is this street that alley, a bunker here, a breach in the wall there and only a child's imagination with which to navigate this battlefield. “It cannot be,” the Russians have come
this close, “and so recent,” I whisper as I lean up against the wheel of their smoldering tank. “You have to think on your feet to stay in this game,” I remind myself, “only the quick live to the end of the morning in my neighborhood.” Survival is as simple as seeing the brim on a helmet before that helmet sees you. “Each time we push them back, their fire melts us further away; everyone I know is dead,” myself reminds me, “there is something to be said for that.” I never deny myself the privilege of reveling in my own mortality. ***
Arriving at the Fuhrerbunker at last, I crawl up into the messenger's entrance; where after I find myself in the distantly familiar silence and security of the outer garden of the Reich's Chancellery. Slowing my pace, my breath catches up with me as cautiously I proceed into the main yard where the guard there, a dizzy statue of a man probably drunk again tries to stop me. I yell at him, “get your hands off me! This message is for the Fuhrer.” He does not let go. I repeat myself. He pulls me in closer, covers my mouth and says, “Quiet!” As he looks around, “you are too late.” I am not too late. I am never late. “The Fuhrer is gone.” “Gone?” I echo through his hand – the
word everyone uses for dead these days, no one ever dies anymore they are just gone. “Gone?” I repeat now free to speak, “what do you mean?” “No, no, not that kind of gone,” he replies
pointing toward the sky, as his finger produces a tiny object, a light aircraft lifting up over the city. “Gone,” he says, “the Fuhrer has left. He's fled south to Bavaria.”
~~~ “I did not think I could get you out of
there in time,” I shouted over the blaring engine as I turned to look into that still silent reflection of an empty face, staring down into the glowing ruins of our once thriving capital city, now crumbling under the heel of the advancing Red Army. Drawn into his reflection, I can see within those eyes the haunting lost lust of a thousand conquered conquerors; even in defeat this man is intoxicating. “You put up a bold fight,” I appeased my desire, “but you cannot blame yourself with this outcome. You made all the right moves at all the right times. The fates simply were not with you on this one.” “I
could have done better, Hanna,” shatters the silence of my rambling. “Oh, Mein Fuhrer,” I went on, “could this
have been any other way? You will still be triumphant in the end. I am certain of this,” I droll as a dip in the wings brings my action back to the controls. Am I still talking? He could not have known I was barely flying this aircraft to see me now. What was I saying?
Does it matter? Is either of us listening? “I did better, last time,” he interrupts with
astonishing zeal, rocking forth and back in his seat as he turns toward me. But squinting my assistance to his continuation sees only failure's familiarity subdue his gaze back into the silent judgment of the German countryside streaming by below us, as we fly low through our safe corridor to the south held open at the cost of so many lives. Is he worth it? I wonder for the briefest of moments, but no answer comes and I would not want one if it did. It is not for me to ask such questions. The silence strikes me. *** Arriving safely, landing like some dream's end, the drone of the motor I thought might have deafened me to anything the Fuhrer said as on our approach he murmurs something I do not understand, and dare not ask him to repeat. The jostling of rough turf under wheel awakens me. My heart beats again. An S.S. guard runs up to the aircraft's side and opens the door. Hitler turns to get out, but stops. He turns back, looks deep into
my eyes – almost through me – and says, “forgive me.” I freeze as babble fills my throat but say nothing with a swallow as he leans to get out his last words, “I will do better next time.” “I am certain you will, Mein Fuhrer!” I
reply in a gush, or think I did. I cannot say for certain I said anything at all… maybe he did not either. ~~~ Shuffled into my waiting armored car, we sweep off through the countryside. “The latest reports anticipate the Red Army could be here at any moment of unexpected weakness,” says the accompanying S.S. Officer to Hitler, “there is not a second to be lost!” Feeling this weight, I press on even faster toward the best kept secret of the war and the only salvation I imagine might save me, short of fleeing west to surrender to the American Army. No, behind the front line borders of our Third Reich lay my fate; where I had unwittingly aided in the enslavement of countless souls; whose creation I feared would soon see us joining them, in their
shallow graves, down the long winding dirt road we drove to our destination: an insurmountable horror of defensive positions no rational army could breach, to guard a prize no rational man would refuse. The future of the Third Reich and the victory Soviet Russia bled for lay within this mountain fortress of ours. Its external defenses sat at the ready as we, with the remnants of our elite S.S. troops behind us – having abandoned their Berlin defenses – flowed south, leaving Berlin to fall to the Red Army Supreme Commander Zhukov's disappointment at Hitler, not being found in its ruins. But seeing this deception – only after the fact – Zhukov, will turn his forces southward toward the only body of resistance remaining in Greater Germany… us.
Chapter 2 Fight
L
ooking south into Czechoslovakia at the
mountain which stands as one more tedious battle in a seemingly endless line of maneuvers between me and the end of this horrible war, I remind myself, “total victory has no exception.” Like the Battle for Berlin behind us this Bohemian Redoubt before me was to be solely the Red Armies prize and I its only western witness. My division with the U.S. 1st Army to the west tugged at my fruitless desire as reluctantly I watched the approach of our allies' army. Not one of a tactical nature I had to admit. They did nothing covertly and I as
liaison embedded with them, to coordinate the eventual meet up with our boys on the River Elbe back in Germany, could do nothing to prevent this. Despite the German's inferiority I'd watched them routinely defeat far superior forces due to this very lack of subtlety our Russian allies displayed with such confidence. “Like swatting flies with a hammer,” the Red Army's singular solution to the Nazi's tireless maneuvers. They would frequently chase blindly after unimagined, even mythical and always unavoidably disastrous final obstacles with their never ending column of soldier and machine only to find only themselves, “failing at every turn to achieve even the least rational definition of victory,” in the face of our enemy. To watch our allies in the field was as I noted in my few short weeks with them, like seeing the slow agonizing death of one of nature's noblest beasts. It was as poetic and glorious as ignorant and torturous to see so many lives thrown into the fire to meet the unrealistic timetable of a tyrant. They won and yet somehow lost every battle they ever entered into and that is to say that, “surely no
opposing army ever suffered the same soldier twice. “Stalin,” head of this Soviet State of
confusion stood as, “yet another Russian Emperor demanding victory as the only outcome to any battle for which there were no costs too high in obtaining.” The Red Army's blood flowed in pursuit of this man's goals like no army history had ever witnessed. The Soviet had literally washed the Nazi occupied soils of their Mother Russia clean with the blood of the uncounted millions of its conscripted peasantry they dressed up and presented as soldiers before me today. “What was it all for?” I asked myself
continually. “To reward, inept Generals the burdensome weight of one more medal earned at the cost of a few hundred thousand more lives, or to claim back the right to rule over yet another people whom only the death of the last had afforded them.” Contempt for the, “methodology of their system,” is what watching the Red Army brings, and as the bile rises in my throat to speak to these, “allies of ours,” I must measure every emotion in a mumble before it is spoken, so as not to risk
future generations of their stout youth being impaled on our own bayonets in the name of some perceived insult or betrayal through their Commander's eyes. Collecting my thoughts just short of a breakdown I swallow my pride and remind myself, that right here and right now these murderers of Russian youth are, “the lesser of two evils.” That this is our chance to use one evil to be rid of another at far less of a cost to our own than could ever be possible, should we try to be rid of them both ourselves. It was a fire sale only morality would never attend; every other inclination dictated one was better than two. *** Justification incarnate showed itself with the mechanized arm of the Red Army's arrival. A wonder words could never describe properly. This late in the war they at a whim fielded thousands of tanks and uncountable artillery pieces, which still managed to fail to meet their potential, leading to the ever predictable retraction so as not to destroy their own advancing troops who would share
in the overall incompetence of their attack. That time and again, found the Nazis back at their stations ready to bear witness to the next rising tide of farm boy blood. A force the likes of which I had only heard as a thunderstorm on the horizon while south of Berlin released itself from within this machine onto the Nazi's mountain redoubt. It was standard operating procedure for the Red Army to open every siege in this manner I sighed, just as standard as it was for the Nazi's S.S. divisions to survive these ground leveling attacks mostly intact and the following morning would be no exception. The forests around the mountain redoubt reduced to stumps and fields from the previous night's barrage saw the Nazi's external defenses destroyed and yet, the terrain's new chaotic formations remained equally defendable and thus, the dance carried on like so many before. Inevitability unfolded before my eyes, I watched because I could not turn away from this spectacle of destruction, “dumbfounding in its hypnotic allure.” The Nazi troops were replaced by piles of Red Army corpses too deep to walk
through, but even that would not stop their advancing armor. This cannot happen anymore! I screamed to myself but was powerless to change this calamities course as Zhukov stood firm against the fire. The logic of his actions staggered me. This man, ordering wave after wave of soldier to pave one more foot of ground with Russian blood, had nowhere to go but forward. His flaw recognition nonexistent, I could read that in his eyes, it was their lives or his and as each attack failed the next continued because his truth would not be denied; he was gaining ground.
Chapter 3 Right
T
he following day won the field with a cost
in lives that was as quickly being shuffled away by an equally large army so as not to clot the flow. The next obstacle, the tunnel's defenses – leading into the mountain fortress – were to be conquered through a series of coordinated tank attacks. “The Josef Stalin III Heavy Tank,” my
counterpart Alexei said with a smile as these monsters made their debut on the field. “The latest in the Soviet arsenal,” he beamed, as these impermeable behemoths advanced toward the tunnel's entrance rumbling past our observation dugout more than a hundred
yards away, shaking everything around me. Not a moment too late either these tanks an almost solid chunk of steel distinguished only by the cannon sticking out of their bulbous turrets, were to be the surprise for which the Nazis had no answer. Generally impressed, but less willing to witness one more heroic clot, my hunger and I retreated up the road to the newly forming field headquarters for a meal and to observe operations as often I did. Alexei, never more than a step or two behind me joined us as we found our meal – at least I hoped this would be a meal. Lacking from the front line excitement and not wishing to face down any meal here without distraction – I searched for middle ground between the death and staring blankly into space, which I found in a Soldier being scorned by his Sergeant – while I pondered my own plan of attack on today's unfair faire. Figuring it safer to approach the Sergeant, we followed him from the chow line and with a few choice looks were soon discussing the issue he had been discussing with his scorned and retreated disciple.
It was what he dismissed as nothing more than a naive farm boy's fantasy: S.S. Soldiers shot only to get up afterward, which he quickly excused as, “wounded or perhaps another soldier from the same direction.” Looking sad at his words though, he paused – taking in the full unfamiliarity of my American Army uniform, leaned in and quietly said to us, “I have seen this as well.” I looked at the Russian Sergeant with a skeptical eye, as Alexei stepped away toward the dining tables. The Sergeant replied, “that is the exact response I received from my Captain.” I shook my head. He said, “so I Crush These Rumors First Hand, but really,” he looked carefully around the tent, “I have seen this myself.” “It was a few months ago,” he continued
as I walked toward the table where Alexei sat, “we were staying in a rail house up the road when a messenger arrived. He told us we had to turn back to deal with a surge of resistance fighters – not an uncommon mission. When we arrived on site there was nothing to be seen at first, then a series of gunshots came at us from a house up the hill. We flanked their
position, circled around with the sun at our backs. It was, an easy enough fight, we lost only four men, they a dozen or more.” Leaning in a little closer as his voice grew quieter, “the barn behind the house drew my sniper's attention; he kept shooting Nazi S.S. Officers trying to reestablish their position. I told him there must be a whole nest of them in there, so we called for artillery support and around midday the barn blew to splinters. “So finally, we walked up the hill and
what do you expect we found?” Spellbound I blinked. “We found a single Officer, sitting there impaled through the ribs from the force of the artillery's explosion – with one of those farm harvesting tools – where we had expected to find a whole pile of them, and for all I could tell he was none the worse off, so I smiled at him and shot him in the chest. He smiled back. My smile fell to the ground as I shot him several more times, but there was no mistaking what I was seeing, this guy would not die. Each time I shot him it looked like little more than me punching you in the arm. “Anyway,” the Sergeant looked around
again, “we took him prisoner, sent him back and moved on without another word spoken about it, because the only word that matters comes down from the top; To Stifle These False Defeatist Rumors,” he said louder, “And I do!” I looked around searching for reaction – my handler Alexei, whom having long since finished his meal, made me note I had also, finished mine – but found none, as he sat now nodded off seemingly uninterested in our discussion, so I continued with the Sergeant, “this is not an uncommon story?” He frowned, “I should be going,” taking note of Alexei's disposition and nodded saying, “it's the only truth I know.” “But,” I said as he stood and walked out,
“…nice knowing you,” and nudged my partner who stood on command and we made our way outside as well. Alexei, leading the way slowed then stopped between the parked trucks, turned toward me and warned, “that is Not the smartest thing to do around here.” “I'm Not from around here,” I smiled.
“Just keep in mind; truth is a dangerous
thing.” “Of course Comrade,” I nodded, “let us
get back to the safety of that battle then.” Antagonized by my sarcasm, Alexei continued on our walk back, “until you've first understood its priorities; truth has no meaning.” I looked up like I was listening as he said nothing, so I asked, “you don't find truth to be an anchor in an otherwise chaotic world?” “Whose truth should anchor me?” He
answered, to which I said nothing and in my silence he continued. “You have a minimum of two truths even in the best of case: the truth of the person who is right, and the truth of the person who is wrong. The ability to decide the difference, drawn from our own priorities defines for us right from wrong. “Without priority we cannot say with any
degree of certainty whether right exists at all. Without it we simply have two people each telling their version of an event. It is only with our priorities that we define the rightness of one over another, and through something as
arbitrary as priority do we decide what truth is.” I walked on in silence before saying, “truth to me is nothing more than what the majority of people agree upon. Truth is tested over time,” I stared down at our marching feet, “and cannot be denied until it fails to meet that test.” I kicked a rock from the road, “at which point it is adapted to make up for its failings. “Truth remains our goal despite the
burdens it may face, for we do not always know the truth we seek,” my toe hurt, “and our path toward it is rarely straight,” I limped, “but we follow it nonetheless,” I stepped over the next rock, “and are better, and wiser for the trials our failures force us to endure.” “So your priority is truth?” Alexei asked
as we walked on toward the only truth we both shared: this would be another afternoon paying careful inattention to the smoking hole in the side of the mountain before us, and there was no way on earth that was a meal. ***
The Reds won the tunnel leading into the Nazi's underground mountain fortress while we were away. Now inside the mountain fighting, within what sketchy reports held as an enormous and well defended cavern deep within its interior, further hints of stifled accounts of men not dying when they were supposed to, became apparent. Alexei had suggested I dismiss these rumors as fantasy, and whether for his sake alone, for my own nagging disbelief, or simply because such information was not actionable from my position I allowed these curiosities to pass without further disruption. But in my own mind, right along with the once rumored existence of the very fortress we now stood in front of, I knew consensus meant something. Dismissed as popular myth by the Russian General Staff, the frequency of these reports were increasingly difficult to ignore. “What uncommon valor these men have,” Zhukov himself was rumored to have said, “what I could do with men of that caliber.”
Chapter 4 Light
I
t was well after midnight when a series of
screams and a puff of smoke from the tunnel's entrance drew our attention to yet another image that might haunt me well beyond the grave. “Why am I here?” I growled digging my palms deep enough into my eyes that I might finally be blind to this madness and swore I was – until news came we were in control of the tunnel and adjoining cavern, which I did not even ask the cost of. Maybe my formerly stifled inquiries made me cautious of what I should be asking of my hosts, or perhaps I could not live with myself knowing the full details of what I had
witnessed. The battle was drawing to a close, this would be enough, and as the Redoubt guard dwindled it became clear that they could be killed, that these rumors were merely the stuff of farm boy fantasy. The Nazi's invincible S.S. were fading into history and nothing else mattered. *** Hitler – I was not near Commander Zhukov when the news hit – was captured that evening, alive! I knew this moment combined with Zhukov's vanity; his ego would be my ticket inside. Moving quickly I converged on the point I knew he would have to cross, and sure enough as he approached I was swept up in his wake as the only certainty more pleasing than a conquered foe is witnesses to the account thereof, and into the Redoubt we went. My mind raced faster than my pulse as I absorbed every detail I saw. This fortress was the stuff legends were born of, I thought while following them up the long tunnel into the mountain. The closing days of this war were upon us. The looting was not far off, which
among my more tactical purposes was where I came in: to make note of this sort of installation, given its location deep within Red Army controlled territory knowledge of its very existence was otherwise unavailable to American Intelligence. Following our short hike through the dark tunnel accompanied only by my long smile we entered a chamber. A huge cavernous space, like we had walked outside again. I looked up there were no stars, nor any ceiling I could see through the smoke filled air. A vast cavern covered in a mostly destroyed labyrinth of tank traps and barbed wire obstacles opened up before me, separating us from a multilevel structure clad in burnt out machine gun nests and artillery positions forming the opposite wall several hundred feet away. To the left a bright light shone out from beyond a large door blown off its hinges. It was toward this light our party progressed into a smaller second tunnel lined with windows through which we could see the faint flicker of water filtered light. We were passing underneath a vast pool of water
inside the mountain. Through this curiosity in wide eyed silence each member of our party passed, relieving their disbelief of the spectacle onto the next man as they stepped into the more familiar safety and security of the windowless granite walled hallway beyond. “An enormous sphere suspended in a watery shell some twenty five meters around it,” the leading officer said to Zhukov of our new surroundings as they entered unnoticed or unconcerned with my presence. I continued to follow at a wary distance through the second more complex chamber. Down a long hallway, around a corner, down a second longer hallway, up a dozen flights of stairs, along another hallway into a huge room leading to another room to the left, but the guards stopped me at this point. Zhukov, still ahead of me stopped at the edge of my line of sight. I stepped to the side but his guard stuck me in the ribs with his rifle butt – this was as far as I was going. But hearing Zhukov say something incomprehensible; I could not help but lean forward as the almost respectful tone of his words danced by me. The guard turned at this as well, and I slipped
right and caught sight of Zhukov's cornered quarry. There he was a short old man, the funny mustache all I needed to see, he otherwise frankly didn't look the part – they never do. Suddenly yelling in German pierced my eardrums, it was Hitler all right and what a voice, this man commanded all around him. I was surprised not to see Zhukov fall into line behind his barking as it echoed off the granite walls. I know I felt it myself, like some sublime force pulling me off course. The shouting continued, it grew louder and more terminal. Something was coming and under Hitler's yelling I heard a second voice in Russian saying, “I told you this was true! You did not believe me,” said the Colonel walking past Zhukov. “Look at him!” He demanded. “That is his blood, does he look wounded?” Now standing in front of his Commander, the Colonel stared intensely as the contempt in Zhukov's eyes slowly shifted toward himself. He drew his pistol, turned and fired: once, twice and Hitler fell to the floor.
Zhukov shoved the Colonel and every guard in the room quickly piled onto the man, but it was too late. Hitler lay on the floor – I moved in closer – he was bleeding badly. The Colonel yelled, “watch him!” From under his pile of guards as Hitler began to writhe; slipping around, looking for traction and finding it. Zhukov and everyone still standing took a step back mentally, if not physically as I did and stared as Hitler rose like the shouting which followed. It sounded like so many speeches I'd heard on the radio. This man once again standing before me was he undead… indestructible… supernatural? Could he have been the sacred savior so many people thought he might be? He commanded a room well enough but magnetism aside what was I seeing? How is this so? Zhukov, clearly sharing my thoughts pulled his pistol on the Colonel but turned and aimed steadily at Hitler's shoulder. The room fell silent. Seconds ticked by like minutes. Did he fire? Did I miss it? BANG! Everyone jumped except Hitler, who fell back but caught himself as blood
dampening his uniform in a higher location dripped to the floor. But quickly braced from the shot, he regained his composure, lifted his head and looked up at us as Zhukov fired again, and again, and again, until his pistol emptied and smoke filled the room. Hitler slid down the back wall, breathing… He breathed. I breathed. We all breathed. Zhukov reloaded – I moved in closer – he stood looking down at his open revolver making certain it seemed the bullets felt heavy enough, that they fit into the tumbler just right, then looked straight ahead as his revolver closed, but Hitler still lay on the floor. Zhukov moved closer, leaned in, looked down and murmured something – I did not hear – but it widened Hitler's eyes and at these words he stood again, slowly collecting himself. He straightening his hair – to the wrong side as always – adjusted his uniform and looked dead ahead as Zhukov stepped back. Compliance was at hand, perhaps an understanding had been reached but who was serving whom?
I stepped back as Hitler rose again dominating the end of the room, his right arm thrust up with the fascist salute followed by a single well barked, “Seig!” That sent Zhukov turning toward me. Seeing a guard with machine gun at the ready should failure be upon us, my nervous amazement split between sizing up that guard, which it was still firmly attached to and Zhukov, who having resumed his stance, found his mark, lined up, and Hitler slumped. He did not fall but looked to all the world to have had an episode of sorts. I looked at him with furrowed brow as his arm fell to his side leaving him wavering for balance. We all looked at him with an inquisition. No one watching had missed this change in deportment. The light was gone. He stood there crestfallen, looking only at the floor as we looked at him, then at each one of us with bewildering stare and paling face that competed for our attention. But it was the hammer on Zhukov's tightly gripped revolver, clicking back, that won this match as everyone's focus found him focusing only on Hitler.
A guard stepped into the room saying, “the fortress is secure,” as Zhukov, with revolver steadied fired a bullet that struck Hitler just above the eyebrow, and he collapsed with a thud that froze the room like a photograph. A single coil of smoke defied the emulsion rolling off the barrel of Zhukov's gun and except for my own heart I heard nothing but the pain. We stared at the crumpled body of Hitler lying on the floor, wondering if there could be any mistaking this moment. We stared and stared, was it over? So many impossible years, countless millions murdered on every side – he did not move – by the madmen defending them, but in this second the insanity was just gone. Minutes passed in silence. Zhukov stood looking down at his fallen nemesis. The others, one by one retreated into triumph, leaving us trapped by the immense gravity emanating from the body at the end of the room. I wanted to move, but could not. Zhukov, just short of becoming a statue stepped back out of the photograph – my legs would not so much as twitch. This was a
moment like few others and I knew nothing mattered more than to breathe in every detail – he turned on his heel, walked toward me and as he passed he grumbled, “this never happened.” *** I was the statue now.
