Riding the Storm Out

“Oligarchs will only work for the good of the people by coincidence.” These were the dark thoughts of Private Alois Fusselschmutz as he manned his post. His new Wehrmacht uniform only saddened him more than he already was as he pulled his “Feldgrau” (field gray) Stahlhelm (steel helmet) down against bright sunlight. “Unquestionably, the worst and the best creatures on Earth are humans. Our capabilities empowered by our imaginations enable us in one extreme, to adopt an orphan off the street and on the other extreme, cause maximum pain with demonically contrived torture,” Alois thought. He had to stop this line of thinking or he would truly become depressed. He was a philosopher not a soldier so why was he here?

By leaning on the sandbags piled around him, he was able to somewhat sit up while looking around. The upright posture also enabled him to immediately stand at attention should his sergeant or any officer suddenly pop by. Alois hated the requirement but the impulse to stiffly stand at attention when his betters appeared was literally beat into him during his torture sessions called military boot camp.

Being a sentry on an empty platform of a small town train station was his job here after all. He didn’t have the authority to question the act so he dumbly did it. “You could train a monkey better,” Alois grumbled to himself. His thoughts reminded him of one demented boot camp sergeant that particularly enjoyed torturing him. Alois had a Masters in Cultural Studies so most militaries around the world wouldn’t have assigned him this menial job. It was a fact that the Sergeant enjoyed to loudly mention at most inopportune times. 

“Well professa, lez sea if ya are smart enough ta figure dis out,” the twisted orc shouted as he threw something at him. It was the first time Alois ever saw a Steilhandgrenate (stick hand grenade,) let alone used one. Alois smiled at the memory as he adjusted his helmet in the early afternoon sun again. He remembered how the sergeant nearly peed his pants because they both would have died as Alois caught the thing and then reached for a certain part of the bomb. “You stupid commie,” the sergeant shouted as he snatched the grenade away. In all of the idiocy the Neanderthal had but his finger on the major issue haunting Alois. He had a past that dogged him.

The Wehrmacht Private snapped out of his memories. So here he was, Alois the dreamer, a grunt in a secondary army unit with officers much less educated and certainly stupider than he was, stuck in a peon sand bag sentry position in a small village of France. He should have swallowed his egghead pride and taken the slightly demeaning but not too lowly passenger ship steward job over two years ago in Bremerhaven, but he had to be a dreamer. Worse yet, he had to join the K.P.D. (Kommunistische Partei Deutschlands - Communist Party of Germany,) instead. So in lieu of being safe on some beautiful beach somewhere far away right now, Alois barely missed execution or concentration camps by getting into the “Fight of the Socialists.”  Obviously his Bolsheviks lost as hundreds of thousands of his KPD comrades were marched into camps or up against a brick wall to be shot when the National Socialist German Workers Party, (Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei – shortened to Nazi,) took over. Alois was an already flaming stick plucked from the fire by a last minute conversion to the Nazi party, enacted by a powerful sibling more concerned for his own good name than Alois’s life. Yet as always is the case with any totalitarians, repentance may be accepted but total forgiveness is never accomplished. So, now a guy with a master’s degree sat in the summer heat of rural France like a common serf. “In the end, Stalin is as much a killing demon as Hitler is. Sadly we thought that some sort of socialism was our only choice,” Alois thought. This idea only depressed him more.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” (Charles Dickens: A Tale of Two Cities.) Who would have thought that the French army would collapse as quickly and completely as it did when the Nazis attacked? Who would have thought….there was an incoming train whistle. Alois looked up, only mildly interested. Then he dug out the ancient watch that his grandfather had once owned. This wasn’t a regularly scheduled train.

An important part of the Private’s job was the MG13 machine gun on a tripod, in front of him. It was pointed up in the air right now, on the off chance that an enemy plane might come along to strafe the small town train station behind Alois. The machine gun was on a tall stand in the middle of this guard post which was surrounded by piled sand bags. A mechanical knuckle on the gun stand allowed the firearm to be pointed anywhere around the guard emplacement if necessary. The gun operator stood behind the weapon to work it and because of how it was mounted, if necessary he could shoot in the air or spray the countryside, the town and the train station around him. Alois leaned against his sandbag wall in curiosity as the unscheduled train pulled in. Then he realized that something serious was going on as soldiers jumped from the train and onto the station platform even before it stopped. A Lieutenant headed straight for Alois who immediately came to attention.  In spite of his instinctual response, Alois did have the thought “you could train a monkey better” go through his mind to his defense.

“Private, show me your order papers now!” the Lieutenant shouted.

“Yes sir” Alois responded as he grabbed his knapsack.

The Lieutenant hardly looked at them before he shoved them back at Alois. A second unscheduled train let out a steam whistle as it chugged into the station from the other side of the surrounding little French village so the Lieutenant had to investigate. No one knew it yet of course, but this was one of those rare events in history where the God of history prevails in spite of humanity. Alois also didn’t know yet, that the first unscheduled train that had just arrived in his station was none other than the Sonderzug, (Special Train) “Asien” which was basically owned by Hermann Wilhelm Göring: Commander in Chief of the Luftwaffe. Alois stared at the Flakwagen, a train car attached immediately behind the steam locomotive with anti-aircraft guns bristling from it and soldier’s helmeted heads moving around behind thickly lumbered side walls. He knew that this had to be the special train of one of the Nazi “gods.” Alois had a bemused expression as the military and other important people rushed about. He didn’t know yet of course that Paul Joseph Goebbels, Reich Minister of Propaganda & Gauleiter of Berlin was a special guest riding with Göring on Sonderzug “Asien.”

As often happens in history, “it was the best of times and the worst of times” and to the National Socialists and their oligarchs that were amassing godlike riches, it was the best of times and they lived like it. An interesting development in the Nazi Sonderzug apparatus of this period was that their radio systems were easily compromised so these palaces on railroad tracks would often need to stop at convenient train stations to hook up with the local phone system. Not far west from Alois’s little station was Compiègne, France. Sitting on a railhead there was the exact same train car that German officials were forced to sign their World War One surrender documents in. Now though, the victorious Nazis were going to compel surrendering French officials to sign their capitulation papers here instead. All of the Nazi deities were coming to celebrate of course, with their special trains hurrying in. However, last minute responsibilities demanded attention. Therefore Alois’s little train station beckoned. The second train rushing in was owned by the epoch of the genetically pure, none other than the Führersonderzug “Amerika” with Adolf Hitler: The Supreme Commander of the Wehrmacht riding in it. Rudolf Hess, Head of the Party Chancellery (Parteikanzlei) was his guest along with several other important functionaries including a rising star named Martin Bormann. Of course they needed a phone connection to give last minute instructions before the important upcoming event as well.

Not to be outdone, Sonderzug "Steiermark" owned by Heinrich Luitpold Himmler: Reichsführer-SS came rushing into Alois’s station not long after the Führersonderzug in search for a phone line. Three chateaus on rails ended up crowding the little station as Alois stared from his little island of calm in the growing scramble near him. Even he spoke better French than some of the technicians screaming at the station master. Alois would have enjoyed himself if a name hadn’t suddenly hit him.

“Gerhardt!”

The sudden pain of the thought was almost physical. Gerhardt was Alois’s favorite cousin. He wasn’t even a socialist let alone a Bolshevik or a Fascist. He was a Baptist that often would rant about “the heart of humanity is thoroughly evil no matter their government.” Gerhardt happened to have the bad luck of visiting Alois for a weekend when the SS raided his apartment. They mistook Gerhardt’s not giving them any information on fellow communists as his being obstinate. The SS couldn’t conceive of the fact that Gerhardt just didn’t know any communists so they beat him to death. Alois did glance into the coffin when the family finally got the body and Gerhardt was so damaged that he was unrecognizable. “Gerhardt” Alois mumbled. He remembered that he had prayed angrily to the Christian God that Gerhardt believed in. He, Alois the atheist, had prayed!

“God, he was innocent! Why didn’t you kill me? I’m the schemer, the rebel, not him.”

Then things got worse.

The first of the gods to get out of his moving palace and onto the train station platform was Joseph Goebbels, out for a cigarette and to enjoy the beautiful weather. He was soon joined by Hermann Göring and Heinrich Himmler, each one lighting up as well. They were laughing and joking for a while until they suddenly put their cigarettes out. Adolf Hitler hated tobacco but he was in a jovial mood as he approached. The Fuhrer, (the leader) had Rudolf Hess and Martin Bormann in tow. “Gerhardt” Alois mumbled again as the gods laughed and joked in front of him. “Gerhardt” Alois said as he fully recognized each of the supreme beings on the platform. This wasn’t difficult since newspapers in Germany regularly regaled them with flattering pictures attached of course.

No one saw Alois take the MG13 off its tail. “anti-aircraft” tripod and open the smaller, “infantry” bipod at the front of the gun. If they did see it, they had no concerns. Because of haste, Alois only flipped down the first anti-aircraft sight, he didn’t have the time to unlatch the large round, spider web, front anti-aircraft sight. At these close quarters though, aiming was going to be a secondary issue anyway. Further, no one saw him set the gun on a top sandbag. Also, miraculously if we can use that word, no one heard him click the very loud safety switch nor saw him aim. Even Hitler’s highly trained "Schutzstaffel" (Protection Squadron - SS), were staring worshipfully at this gathering of the gods and so were looking elsewhere. Alois checked his large capacity bullet magazine. Then he pressed the collapsible gun butt to his shoulder. Alois only hesitated for a bit. His last word before he focused on his aiming was “Gerhardt.” The signature cough of the MG13 echoed in the train station.

“Cough, cough, cough,” Alois had pressed the MG13’s semi-automatic trigger. Adolf Hitler and many of the nearby SS guards were the first to catch bullets but the rest of the godhood received lead before they could blink as well. Alois didn’t stop shooting when they were all down. He kept spraying them in a rage and was almost able to empty his MG13’s 75 round saddle drum magazine on the fallen celestials. The MG13 stopped shooting suddenly when a highly experienced SS guard that was not mowed down in the initial attack, expertly put an 8mm Mauser round through Alois’s head from the guard’s Karabiner 98k. Alois was dead before he hit the bottom of his sand bagged position but that didn’t matter. The damage was already done. Alois’s helmet with a bullet hole in it lay near him.

As shocked personnel ran together, Hitler, Bormann and Himmler were already dead besides many guards that were considered inconsequential, right there on the train platform. Göring died in one of the military cars rushing to the nearest hospital. Hess and Goebbels both died in surgery, later that day. It didn’t matter what rage any surviving leadership of the National Socialists (the Nazis) had. Alois couldn’t care. They wouldn’t be able to reach him where he was now.

It was after all, the best of times and the worst of times, depending upon whose point of view that you chose. After initially making certain that he was dead, no one cared about the empty earth suit of Private Alois Fusselschmutz for well over a day. Everyone was focused elsewhere. French summer flies buzzed around the sand bagged guard station on the edge of a small town train station platform well into the evening.

Lying in his sandbagged gun position, this fighter for one of the versions of socialism certainly changed his universe but not ours. In one swoop, Alois removed the entire World War Two era, Nazi leadership of Germany. In disgust the Nazi occupation authority of France didn’t even give Alois Fusselschmutz his own grave. He was thrown into a mass grave of French soldiers and armed civilians, defecting German soldiers that were captured and summarily executed, and “others,” whatever that meant to godlings with absolute power. There was no respect for the dead here because there was no respect for the living. They just didn’t want the stink of dead bodies.

Frieda LeChambon

The diminutive grandma understood. Her people were Huguenots, a minority religion in France that often faced the sometimes murderous ire of various governments usually centered in Paris throughout the ages. She had family stories of such things so now she stood, staring at the unmarked, dirt mound that constituted Alois and “other’s” grave. Frieda’s family traditions taught that we humans all enslave and no tribe or nation is exempt. We all commit genocide, we militarily attack motivated only by sociopathic needs, we rape and we are bigoted. Frieda bowed her head. She had seen the soldiers come in the night, (they always come in the darkness.) She watched them dig the huge trench on the edge of her late father’s firewood gathering forest without even speaking to her, let alone to ask for permission. Then came the trucks and she couldn’t watch anymore.

Frieda didn’t know of Alois. The controlled press needed to put the correct spin on this so the information wasn’t public yet. She didn’t know that even with the evident lack of respect, Alois did change history. Frieda also didn’t understand that the large mound of dirt in front of her was a portal to different universes. In a different universe where Adolf Hitler wasn’t assassinated on a train station platform but rather had his minions fight to the end in Berlin, there were piles of history books to tell the story. But in Alois’s universe with the leading Nazis now gone, did the Wehrmacht stage a coup and present much more pragmatic leadership? Was there a Jewish holocaust? Joseph Stalin had been raging up in the Soviet Union at the cost of millions of lives by this point in both universe’s histories so did the Fascist Socialists and the Bolshevik Socialists go to war with each other as they did in our universe or did they ally themselves to fight the democracies together in Alois’s? Did the various Fascist Socialist governments in Europe, South America and elsewhere ally with German Fascism to make an even wider war in Alois’s universe or did they remain neutral as in our universe? Did Japan attack Pearl Harbor and if they did, did the United States only fight them and not in Europe as well? Was there a Cold War in Alois’s universe? In the end, was Alois’s world very different from ours? Was Gerhardt correct with the idea that no matter what we humans do, perhaps at best holding up a light up in the darkness for a tiny while, we would only again be overcome with surrounding night? Was it true that the evil programming of humanity needed a God intervention for permanent resolutions? Until that sovereign appearance, we still had to hold up torches in the raging storm and seek to overcome the darkness with all of our might. We had no other choice. Was Hitler truly that unusual of a tyrant or was the murderous animal a common, human, event? Millions around the world would die after him by genocide, war, sociopathic kleptocracies and enslavement or its’ equivalent with or without Hitler. After the military trucks grumbled away Frieda went to a shed next to her house. She found the beautiful, porcelain cross down next to her garden tools. A friend had spent much time making it for her. Frieda had intended it for a different occasion but now the cross was more needed here. She came back to the earth mound with a petroleum lantern and in the little light circle of the lamp in that dark night, she pushed the bottom of the work of art into the dirt on the highest point of the mass grave. Frieda left the lantern glowing in the night as she sadly walked away. It was a sacrificial act because lantern petroleum was impossible to find in war torn France right now. It also was a dangerous act because who knows what type of person would be attracted to the light in the darkness in these desperate times? However, respect is earned. It can never just be demanded. 

“Look, he is coming in the clouds, and every eye will see him, even those who pierced him, and all peoples on earth will mourn because of him. So shall it be! Amen.” Revelations 1:7, NIV.