A Short Story
Obersalzberg, Germania, November 15th 2000.
The immaculate SS men watched the gleaming steel serpent writhe its way up the narrow mountain road on the sunny but cool autumn afternoon. It was composed of a variety of luxurious cars: Mercedes & BMW sedans, several 911s, and a lone crimson Ferrari. As the lead vehicle passed by on its way to the parking area, the hulking bodyguards snapped to attention; crisp Roman salutes in perfect synchrony with the echoing click of polished leather heels. Elegantly-attired figures emerged from the cars; some in suits, others in uniform, all with the Party badge. They made their way from the parking area and gathered at the bottom of the stone staircase, warmly shaking hands. They were a select group of the Reich’s most distinguished men: grey-haired feldmarschals; groundbreaking scientists; historians; high government officials; aged Knight’s Cross recipients – this one with an empty sleeve, that one with an eyepatch – famous heroes of the Great Victory. A frisson of anticipation mixed with a tantalizing puzzlement was shared by the group as they spoke quietly.
One of their number suddenly went silent and came to attention; the rest quickly followed. A man had appeared at the top of the staircase. He returned their salutes and spoke:
“Ah, gentlemen! I see that you’re all arrived safely, and on time as well. Excellent. Please – do come up!”
The guests were gathered in the Great Hall. They gazed wide-eyed at the coffered ceiling, at the paintings, and at the rich furnishings. It wasn’t the mere sumptuousness of the room that so deeply impressed them; many of these men were themselves wealthy & accustomed to finery, and some had been there numerous times as part of their duties many long years before.
No. It was the original master of the house that infused their surroundings with awe: Adolf Hitler. This was the 50th anniversary of his death from Parkinson’s disease. The Berghof had been turned into the greatest shrine to the memory of the creator of Germania immediately after his passing. Velvet ropes had been placed around the rooms to prevent damage from the hundreds of thousands who came from around the White world every year to pay their respects; that was all. Nothing had been moved to this day; the white-gloved cleaners even carefully placed weights on the papers on his desk so that their positions would remain unchanged when dusted.
The only additions to the estate had been his tomb & eternal flame memorial. The circular tomb – 50 feet in height, 100 feet in diameter – was constructed with great blocks of dark grey stone cut from the surrounding mountains the Fuhrer loved so much, weighing several tons apiece. The interior was illuminated by the play of light & shadow produced by black iron torches ensconsed at regular intervals along the walls. His silver-inlaid solid ebony coffin was encased in a sarcophagus made of the same roughly-surfaced stone blocks as the mausoleum, rather smaller in size, set in the center of a larger replica of the Black Sun floor at Wevelsburg Castle. The top of the massive one-piece lid of the sarcophagus bore a mosaic Blut Fahne made from the choicest red, black & white marbles. On a black granite pedestal just behind was placed a solid gold bust over the simple inscription:
20.4.1889 – 15.11.1950
The eternal flame memorial consisted of an great dish-shaped cauldron of hammered gold atop a 75 foot-high column carved from red granite taken from what was once Lenin’s tomb. The plinth bore the inscription:
In Everlasting Gratitude to Our Fuhrer
All the gold in the tomb & memorial flame had been donated by the German people. An honor guard of elite SS men attended the site with the utmost solemnity day and night.
The man who had greeted the guests from the top of the staircase strode through the rounded-arch doorway and into the Great Hall.
“Welcome, gentlemen, welcome. Thank you all for heeding my summons to the Fuhrer’s abode on the 50th anniversary of his death,” he said, his voice as deep, rich & commanding as the master of the house’s had been.
At 6’4″ and 223 solid pounds, Fuhrer Ulrich Jaeger cut an imposing figure. His face was attractive in a hard sort of way; a 3 inch-long dueling scar that deeply creased his left cheek made him look even more austere than he really was. He was 66 years old, but still an avid participant in sports (tennis, swimming, horseback riding, shooting, even the occasional impromptu football match with staff). His thick golden hair was now laced with veins of silver, and when angry, the icy gaze of his cobalt blue eyes could freeze the spine of even the most hardened vet. Jaeger had been chosen to take the reins of Germania by the previous leader, Otto Skorzeny (who had in turn been selected by Hitler himself). It was his 25th year at the helm.
“I have invited you here to be witnesses to what I think must be a revelation of world historical importance,” he began, standing behind an ornate desk bearing a square object covered with blue velvet cloth. “I say ‘I think’ because even I don’t actually know what it is.” Brows furrowed and muttering rose from the audience. Jaeger raised his hand to silence them. “Some background is in order: When my noble predecessor, our late leader Skorzeny was on his deathbed, he not only conferred to me the great honor and even greater responsibility of the stewardship of Germania, but also a mysterious secret that had been entrusted to him by Adolf Hitler himself. The Fuhrer, his lifeforce fading fast due to the ravages of that cruel disease that would soon claim him, gave Skorzeny the combination to his private safe here at the Berghof – with the strictest order that it was not to be opened until this, the 50th anniversary of his passing. Otto, smooth as a cat – as I’m sure those of you who knew the old raider can attest! – tried to coax from the Fuhrer some clue as to what the safe held: of course, no joy at all. ‘Ah, how I wish I could live to find out what’s in that blasted safe, Uli! Damn you for being so young!’ he laughed as he passed the combination on to me. And let me tell you, Kamaraden, many has been the time that I, too, have longed for this day!
“Well now: enough talk from me. I opened the safe an hour ago – and this is what I found.” Jaeger whipped the cloth off, revealing a very old, deeply-carved box. The men quickly gathered around the desk like excited schoolboys, necks craning for a good view. Jaeger inserted a key into the lock & turned, then lifted the lid. Inside they saw some papers bearing the “AH” monogram, unmistakably written in the Fuhrer’s angular hand. Adrenaline surging through his body, Jaeger picked up the papers, cleared his suddenly dry throat and began to read aloud:
“My Future Successor,
I greet you over the shadowy gulf of fifty years, hoping with all my heart that this finds you and my beloved Germania healthy, strong & inviolate. I suppose that the arrival of this day will afford you no small relief, since you shall at last have the answer to what must have been a rather maddening mystery indeed.
I must confess that it is difficult for me to know quite how to begin to supply you with that answer, since in merely recounting the singular event that I’m about to reveal to you, I run the risk of being dismissed as a raving deathbed lunatic. Yes, it’s true that this cursed disease has ravaged my body – but I assure you that my mind remains untouched. In any event, you will be satisfied on that point in the end, so I now begin:
The fateful date that would forever alter history was 22 March 1940. The period derisively called the “Sitzkrieg” was about to come to its end, since my fevered final preparations for the offensive in the West were almost complete. Late that evening, I was alone in my study poring over maps of the upcoming campaigns – when a very strange sensation suddenly came upon me. It was as if the oxygen had been sucked from the room in an instant, to be replaced by an electric charge. I became quite faint, and groped for my chair. Thinking I might be having a stroke or a heart attack, I reached out a trembling hand for the button to summon a servant. At that moment, a blinding flash of blue light filled the room. Simultaneously, I heard a voice speak in oddly-accented German:
”Don’t touch that, Herr Hitler! You are in no danger!’
My vision quickly returned – and I was astonished to see standing before me a man with a benign smile on his face, his hands raised in a placating gesture. The intruder was very oddly attired: under an open white laboratory coat bearing the red letters “VNN” on the left pocket, he wore an undershirt that bore a stern image I recognized as that of American Civil War general Nathan Bedford Forrest, superimposed on a Confederate battle flag; workman’s trousers of faded blue denim, and absurd white shoes with large green check marks on the uppers and what looked for all the world to be little green columns for heels.
‘Who are you, and where have you come from?!’, I demanded for the fellow, attempting to regain control of the situation.
‘Please don’t be alarmed, sir! My name is Jack Haight. I’m an American, from the state of Virginia – and I come on an urgent task to save you, Germany, and all we both hold dear!’
If it hadn’t been for the stunning manner of his arrival, I’d have had him dragged off to an asylum at once.
‘I see. Hmm….well then, speak your piece, and be quick about it – it’s past my bedtime.’
‘Thank you for your indulgence.’ He took a deep breath, gathering himself. ‘Herr Hitler, I have come to you from the future – the year 2010, to be precise….’
Yes. An escapee from a loony bin…..
‘Of course,’ I said, forcing a smile to humor him as I eased my hand toward my Luger drawer.
‘Naturally you can’t believe such a crazy story, no one could – but I have PROOF in this duffel bag, Herr Hitler!’
Seeing that his sudden move had startled me, he again put his hand up.
‘If you’ll allow me?’
‘Go ahead – but make it slow….’
Haight reached into his bag and withdrew a flat box, setting it on my desk. He lifted the lid, revealing an odd sort of typewriter keyboard. The bottom of the lid was glass. He touched one of the keys – and to my amazement, the bottom lid came alive with color-”
“Mein Gott – he’s describing a laptop!”, one of the dignitaries exclaimed.
“Shhh!”, Jaeger hissed, continuing -
“Haight touched a few more keys and stroked a small blank space on the box with his index finger. With that, the most vividly realistic moving pictures imaginable began to flash over the screen.
And what monstrous scenes they were! Hideously ugly, smirking negroes sporting billowing clown trousers that literally hung off their Khoisanid buttocks, jabbering like rabid baboons about ‘busting caps’ in ‘crackers’ whilst brandishing pistols & fistfuls of U.S. currency! Great cities like the Detroit built by Henry Ford in ruins! Degenerate, utterly shameless white females engaging in sexual intercourse with the untermenschen – who had the unmitigated gall to laughingly boast about their penises being so much larger than Aryan organs as they ravished the swooning trollops! Then, most appalling of all, the inevitable, ghastly results of these abominable couplings: scene after scene of fat harlots, their greasy, nearly-nude rolls of flesh plastered with the most garish tattoos imaginable, proudly perambulating their revolting spawn – vomit-yellow, freckled, thick-lipped heads topped with kinky red wool – down streets seething with jungle noise, empty liquor bottles, used condoms & many paper cartons bearing the smiling image of an old man and the letters ‘KFC’…..
I could finally take no more: ‘Enough!’, I exclaimed, my stomach churning. I took a few moments to compose myself, wiping the nausea-sweat from my brow. When I could speak again, I said:
‘It is a truly nightmarish vision of America’s future you’ve laid before me, Herr Haight, and I’m sorry for you – but after all, of what pressing concern is that to us Germans? It’s the tragic-but-inevitable result of allowing jews to run your country. We’re cleaning them up in Germany, and you have had our example to guide you-’
‘That’s just it, Herr Hitler!’, Haight interrupted. ‘Your great measures to remove the jewish ticks from Germany’s hide will not stand! German women of the future will likewise produce countless mulatto bast-’
‘NEVER!’, I burst forth. ‘Not OUR girls!’
Another key pressed. ‘Please watch more!’
I thought I had been shown the absolute depths of subhuman depravity & destruction. I was wrong. The next scenes were seared into my horrified brain forever: Our skies black with British & American bombers. Our beautiful, ancient cities reduced to smoking heaps of rubble. Millions of our civilians crushed & burned alive in their beds. Stalin’s Bolshevik hordes mass raping our dazed, starving women……and I was not to be spared, either, oh no. My ignominious fate was a rendezvous with a pistol and a cyanide capsule in my Berlin bunker….
By now, I was emotionally shattered. I sat there slumped in my chair, surely looking pathetic to my strange visitor.
‘So it is all for nothing…..’ I muttered helplessly. ‘My people doomed…..the White race in its entirety, doo-’
‘NO!’, barked Haight with a vehemence that jolted me. ‘Do you really think that I’d come back to this crucial moment in time just to rub your nose in such a fate?’
‘But what can be done….’
‘I’m here so that you can avoid the fatal mistakes that will destroy us all! Now, Herr Hitler, listen to me: When you commence the war in the west, you will have spectacular success at first. Norway will fall with ease. Just as you suspect, the French generals are indeed going to re-fight the First World War, relying on their Maginot Line. Your Ardennes offensive will go down in military history as a masterstroke…..’
The fact that Haight knew my plans in such meticulous detail astonished me – but of course, by that point it shouldn’t have.
‘But right at that moment of your greatest triumph, you’ll make one of your most deadly errors: The British forces will be rolled up with their backs to the Channel at Dunkirk, utterly helpless. As a gesture of goodwill, you will want to let them evacuate back to Britain – but you must abandon your kind-heartedness and your misguided Anglophile sentimentality and kill them all without mercy.’
I took offense to his lecturing tone, and to his advice. ‘Now see here! I have no designs on the Britain or her empire – in fact I greatly admire both. The sane elements in England know this. Furthermore, Anglo-Saxons are our racial kindr-’
‘None of that matters! Churchill and the goddamned jews who own him do not reciprocate your feelings in the least: they hate you and the German people with the most venomous hatred imaginable. They’re bitterly jealous of the economic miracle you’ve pulled off in Germany by circumventing the international jew bankers – and more than that, they are terrified that it’ll spread! That’s the real reason for the catastrophe they’re planning to inflict on your nation and the entire White world! So again, I warn you: You must steel yourself and kill every Tommy on that beach! That and only that can stop the race traitor drunk Churchill.’
‘Next: When you invade the Soviet Union, you must provide your troops with warm winter clothing and all the cold weather mechanical necessities. The most severe winter imaginable is going to descend on Russia, and if your men aren’t prepared for it, unmitigated disaster will result….’
‘Yes – yes, I’ll see to it!’
‘Good! And when you launch your attack, for God’s sake, do not split your forces! To hell with the oil fields in the south – focus all your might on KILLING STALIN and his Red butchers in Moscow! Once that absolutely essential objective is accomplished, you can avail yourself of those abundant resources at your leisure.
Next: Don’t fall into Roosevelt’s trap of declaring war on the United States when the Japanese attack Pearl Harbor in December ’41′ (I’m sure my eyes were the size of saucers when Haight dropped that bombshell….) ‘The Japs aren’t going to reciprocate by kicking in Stalin’s back door like you think they will; if you just let the dirty cripple’s provocations slide, he won’t be able to overcome the American people’s natural aversion to making war on Germany. After all, German-Americans are our largest ethnic group – of which I’m a member, by the way.’
‘I’m delighted to hear it!’
‘And lastly, we come to the most vital issue of all: the jews…..’
‘Ah yes – don’t you worry on that score, my friend,’ I interjected confidently. ‘As I’m sure you’re well aware from Mein Kampf and the measures I’ve implemented since coming to power, they’ve always been in the forefront of my mind. We’ve already spooked a lot of them out, and helped the Zionists take others to Palestine. When the war really commences, the rest are going to be booted straight into work camps for the duration. After the war, we’ll ship them off to Palestine, Madagascar or some other faraway hole where they can do no further harm. Believe me, our plans for the final solution to the sordid jewish question are firmly in hand. ‘
‘Not good enough.’
‘Why not?’, I said indignantly.
Another keystroke: Images of naked, emaciated corpses of jews, gypsies, sodomites and other subhuman trash assault my already badly abused eyes. Many more in striped prison uniforms, loafing around and crying crocodile tears for the cameras as they’re “liberated” by the Americans, the British and the Reds.
“Herr Hitler, those stick-figure vermin you see were sickened & killed by typhus, dysentery and malnutrition brought on by the smashing of your infrastructure – but that’s not the way the filthy jew “survivors” will tell it. Oh no. Not by a long shot. Instead they’ll swear that you fried them on huge, electrified steel plates; that you smashed their kinky heads open with pedal-powered brain-busters; that you gassed six million of them with diesel fumes in death vans, and with Zyklon B in phony shower rooms.’
‘Preposterous. Yes indeed. Still, after the war they’ll use their absolute control of the international press, Hollywood, the academy & their goy political whores to make it stick to you and the German people like shit sticks to a blanket.’
‘I….I’ll…..’, I sputtered in what I’m sure was unintentionally comical rage.
Jack Haight sighed with clear relief. A weary smile of satisfaction slowly spread across his face.
‘Now you know what needs to be done. And so my mission is finished.’
Yes, I certainly did know what needed to be done. And as you already know, I followed the guidance of this impossible benefactor from a future American South to the letter: I annihilated the British at Dunkirk, causing Churchill to be swept onto history’s dung heap where he tried to sweep me; I surrounded Moscow in an unbreakable ring of red-hot iron, captured a quivering Stalin and slowly hanged him in Red Square before a throng made up of our victorious soldiers & Ukrainian kulaks who’d survived his attempt to genocide them. I heard them burst out laughing with glee as his jew butcher Kaganovich begged, wept & soiled himself when his turn came immediately after.
And oh yes, I made the final solution to the filthy jew parasites well & truly FINAL.
‘Now I must leave, Herr Hitler. I thank you for hearing me out….’
‘W-Wait! Why so soon? Please – stay with me for a few days as my honored guest. I owe you such an incalculable debt of gratitude, Herr Haight – indeed, all future White generations do. You must at least allow me to present you with the Grand Cross of the German Eagle-’
‘Sir, it is we who owe you and this generation of Germans all gratitude. Your brave sacrifice in the living hell to come will make possible my return to an infinitely better future than the one I left. So long, Fuhrer….’
With that, Jack Haight pressed a button on his wristwatch and vanished just as he had appeared.
Well now, my madman’s tale is complete. The proof of my sanity is in the false bottom of the box.”
Jaeger put down the letter and began inspecting the box. He quickly found the slight indentations in the edges of the false bottom and took it out. He reached back in with trembling fingers, withdrew the Apple Mac laptop and set it on the desk. The guests gawked at it in stunned silence.
Jaeger again picked up the letter:
“I was born into an era of impending chaos; a nobody from nowhere, utterly insignificant to anyone whose eyes might have momentarily fallen upon me – but from my first consciousness, I knew I was different from others. I knew in the depths of my soul that I had some great mission to achieve. It was only after enduring the mud, blood & fire of a world war that I came at last to the realization of what that mission was to be: Freeing a nation and a world that were in the merciless clutches of a race of murderous, insatiable vampires. The mission at times seemed impossible, but I never lost faith in either the mission or myself.
My life’s work is now complete. With the steadfast loyalty of my beloved people and the aid of a kindred spirit from a faraway place & time, I have accomplished all I set out to do and more. Your great task, my dear successor – and the task of all my successors who follow you – is to safeguard my legacy, and to take our noble race further than even my dreams could envision.
And even though I cannot be there to see it, the same faith that sustained me through the darkest hours assures me it will be so. Therefore, I now die with the most sublime contentment…..
Last Letter From Dt. Edward R. Fields
13 hours ago