Prehistoric WWII

by Dane Hatchell

  He could either go north, east, or west. After a quick Our Father, he pointed his nose west, heading toward the ocean, and begin walking.

  Chapter 11

  The spinosaurus’ eyes opened as warm sun rays cast orange-yellow blades past thick foliage of the jungle. Rest was essential, recharging its energies to hunt, feed, and ward off any threats stupid enough to intrude on its domain.

  Short, muscular legs with mighty thighs stretched out, extending talon-like claws from four webbed toes as it arched its back. The tail, half its body length, curled upward until the tip nearly touched the middle of the sail shrouding the dorsal spines.

  It had spent most of the morning navigating the fresh waters of a lake, its long crocodile-like head floating just above the surface, taking in air through two small holes closer to its eyes than the end of its snout.

  The successful hunt provided a sturgeon some ten feet in length, filled with rich eggs. Later, an alligator gar fish wandered too close to its conical-shaped slanted teeth and took residence in the spinosaurus’ belly. Despite the near five hundred pounds of food it had eaten earlier, its twenty-one-ton mass craved more.

  Twisting its body to get its legs underneath it, its two short arms with blade-like claws useless to help lift itself, the spinosaurus rose to its feet and stretched out its long neck.

  The beast was a magnificent sight to behold. Fifteen feet tall and nearly fifty feet to the tip of its tail made it the largest theropod prowling the land. Black splotches darted its gray-colored back, just below the seven-foot sail edged in red.

  It turned its head and looked about. This area was its kingdom. It had come at a cost, but the spinosaurus didn’t have to pay as dearly as those he defeated in battle to take it.

  Its violent existence started from the time it opened its eyes and would end only when they closed the for the final time. That’s the way it was on this land. Once out of the egg, running for its life, small enough for practically any predator to catch and eat. As it grew, it learned to travel in packs with its own kind, bringing down prey in coordinated attacks for all to share in the feast.

  Now it no longer needed the support of others. Its ferocious reign had it commanding an area vast enough to provide food until the end of its days.

  The breeze carried the sharp tang scent of a fresh kill, triggering strands of drool past the teeth of its long jaws. Red meat. Not the soft flesh of fish, which cut in half with but a single bite. But coarsely grained meat that teeth pushed through; sinew held muscle pouring bloody nectar across its tongue. Meat that had to be torn out in chunks and filled the belly with satisfaction that lasted far longer than any flesh the waters had to offer.

  Its mouth opened, and it hissed in anticipation. Energized by its savage nature, the spinosaurus plodded toward the recent kill.

  *

  The spinosaurus neared its destination and spied a T. rex feeding on a triceratops. The rex was large, but nothing the king of the land felt it had to fear. This was its land, and the spoils of any kill were its to take.

  The four-toed feet stomped across the earth. Each step shook the ground, announcing its arrival. There would be no sneaking up on the rex to surprise it, and there was no need too. The spinosaurus would claim the triceratops, and if challenged, the T. rex would suffer the fate it deserved.

  As the spinosaurus approached, faint spore from another creature mingled with the meat scent. The smell was unlike anything before, not as pungent as other animals in the land. This only made the spinosaurus angrier, as an unknown interloper had dared to invade its kingdom.

  The T. rex stopped cold as its head pulled back, attempting to rip out another mouthful of meat. It knew the spinosaurus had more than curiosity. It was here to take the prize the rex fought to win.

  Not breaking stride, the roar from the spinosaurus warned the T. rex to leave. Leave or face the same fate as the victim lying on the ground.

  Slightly deeper in tone, the rex opened its mouth and matched the ferocity in a roar that indicated that it wasn’t going to back down.

  No matter, the choice cuts of the triceratops had been consumed. The flesh of the T. rex would be as tasty. The thrill of the kill would make the spinosaurus savor it all the more.

  The rex stepped from the side of the triceratops to the front and dared the spinosaurus to come closer.

  Closer it did come. The dance of death began anew. A dance between two foes with only one possible outcome. There would be no question of the mightier in the end. It was winner take all, even the flesh of the victim.

  The spinosaurus slowed its advance, turning its head on its long neck, trying to make its opponent guess from which direction it would strike. It cried a warning, giving the rex one last chance to reconsider. Leave now or face its wrath.

  The rex, perhaps drunk with the victory of its earlier kill, stretched out its neck and repeated the warning.

  Throwing the first blow, the spinosaurus swung its head to the side, crashing jaw to jaw with the rex. Then, it attempted to latch its interlocking teeth at the end of its snout onto the rex’s neck.

  The rex crashed its head down on the snout and managed to latch its jaws on part of the spinosaurus’ neck instead.

  A surprised hiss-roar cut the jungle air. The spinosaurus frenziedly shook its head and brought its tail over, smashing the rex in the side and knocking itself free from a threatening grasp.

  Before the rex had the chance to gain its balance, the spinosaurus head-butted the rex and sent it backward.

  The triceratops was directly behind the rex, and the theropod lost its footing and fell to the ground.

  Giving the enemy no quarter, the spinosaurus lowered its head and chomped down on the T. rex’s throat.

  The T. rex roared and futilely slashed empty air, trying to reach the neck with its sharp claws attached to hands on arms too short.

  The spinosaurus knew it had the advantage, all it had to do is wait. Pain throbbed in its throat where the rex had bit him. This made it even madder, and it brought its jaws together even closer.

  The rex’s feet came up, and its claws ripped six-inch cuts in the spinosaurus’ neck. The blow was severe enough that the attacker let it go, and the rex up-righted itself.

  Blood poured from the spinosaurus’ wounds. Blood poured from the T. rex’s, too.

  RRRAGGGGGUHHH! a third road thundered through the air.

  The spinosaurus and T. rex turned their attention from each other to face the new challenger.

  A green carcharodontosaurus, latticed in yellow, boldly joined the fray. The beast was larger than the T. rex and only slightly smaller than the spinosaurus. Its head was considerably bigger than either of the other dinosaurs and had serrated eight-inch teeth lining its jaws.

  The spinosaurus stepped toward the challenger. This was its land. It was the king. All would back down in fear or become food for its belly.

  SEEESSSARRRGGGGGAHHH! the spinosaurus returned.

  Bounding without hesitation, the carcharodontosaurus butted its blunt head against the long spinosaurus face. Neither gave way, and each took turns snapping empty air in an attempt to get the advantage.

  Blood continued to pour from the spinosaurus’ wounds, perhaps fueling the carcharodontosaurus’ confidence.

  In a surprise move, the T. rex had maneuvered behind the spinosaurus and sank its teeth in the meaty portion of the body between the tail and the fin.

  Instinctually, the spinosaurus whipped its head to the side in an effort to pull the T. rex off. In its haste, it exposed its neck to the carcharodontosaurus.

  The mighty beast took advantage of the spinosaurus’ poor decision. Its massive jaws clamped down, driving spike-like teeth into flesh and striking bone.

  The spinosaurus, weak from battle and loss of blood, felt its life force slowly drain away. It was held at both ends, unable to move. Its tail was not powerful enough to break it free.

  Air barely had passage to fill its lungs. Its heartbeat pulsed where teeth met
flesh. The once and powerful king felt a weakness unknown. Reality slowed. The light filling its eyes dimmed. A calm washed over it, quenching the fires of its lifelong savagery. Darkness brought peace, and peace, death.

  *

  The carcharodontosaurus held tightly to its victim until the legs gave way and it sank to the ground. The champion dinosaur opened its mouth and roared in victory.

  The T. rex released its hold of the back, raised its body, and faced the winner. Blood still dripped down its neck; its face ragged from battle, and chest heaving for air.

  A penetrating gaze was the only threat the carcharodontosaurus offered.

  The challenge not accepted, the T. rex turned and slunk away into the jungle for the healing powers of nature to care for it.

  The land had a new king crowned on that day.

  Chapter 12

  U-boats generally carried rations designated to last twelve weeks. It was traditionally true that German U-boat crewmen ate the best food of all the German forces in the war. Christoph often wondered why this was so but never enquired further. Perhaps it was because U-boats offered the poorest living conditions. Crewmen weren’t allowed to bathe or shave. They were allowed only the clothes on their backs and one change of socks and underwear. Hot bunking on cots increased in grime and human filth every day.

  As commander, he was the only crewman afforded privacy. His small quarters, located next to the command room, hid behind a thin curtain. The curtain did almost nothing to block out noise, but still, it was nice not to look out of the bunk and see the nonstop daily activities around him.

  For U-616’s final mission, the U-boat had been inadequately supplied with quality foodstuffs. Its hasty departure didn’t allow much of the usual fresh meats, vegetables, and breads, which were practically exhausted, onboard. Instead, an ample amount of tinned meats, preserved fish, dried potatoes, rice, noodles, and Bratlingspulvera, a soya-based filler, was available and in quantities to last five round-trips to South America. At least they wouldn’t go hungry for a long time.

  “Did you enjoy your supper, Commander?” Lt. Gunter Bach asked as he approached from his side.

  Christoph sat on a rather large branch that had fallen from a tree. Night had descended, and a small campfire burned a meter away. The flames’ dance reflected off his pale white face. Melanin in the skin needed sunlight to darken the pigment. U-boat crewmen weren’t known for their tans. “Yes, I had a filling tin of meat and two biscuits.”

  “Beef or pork?”

  “Pork flavored salt,” Christoph said.

  Bach chuckled. “I had the beef. My stomach is full. There are worst things than German canned rations. Have you ever eaten any Italian rations?”

  “You mean Mussolini’s ass? Yes, for two weeks one time. I think I lost ten pounds during that period.”

  “We called it old mule,” Bach said.

  “That is an insult to mules. I would think a mule’s ass would taste better than the canned swill the Italians make,” Christoph said.

  “If we don’t find any fresh food to eat here the whole crew will become constipated.”

  “I wish I could say with confidence that we will not be here long enough for that to happen. I am eager to learn our recon parties’ reports tomorrow. This is a strange land. But if we could find civilization of some type—a primitive village, people who could give us an idea where we are. If they had boats, then there is a chance we can find our way off here,” Christoph said.

  “If we are in nineteen forty-five,” Bach said.

  “Yes, if we are in nineteen forty-five,” Christoph tiredly said. “I vacillate between two trains of thought. One, that we are on an undiscovered island, and the other, that we have traveled through time. The former gives us a chance, the latter….” his words faded. “I do not know how to deal with the latter, so my mind gravitates to the hope we are still in our time.”

  “What if the recon parties find nothing but more jungle?”

  “Then I’ll send a group out on a different mission. I’ll have them go to the highest point in this area—that small mountain to the north. I’m hoping to learn more of the Americans. Phelps’ group should scout near their position. I would prefer not to engage them, as it could jeopardize the mission. They could outnumber us. If the Americans appear to be a threat, we will discuss our strategy with the SS officers.”

  “What if the recon parties don’t come back?” Bach asked.

  Christoph admired Bach’s candidness. Losing one or both of the recon parties was a possibility. He could tell Bach had been a little uncomfortable with his decision to send two parties out at the same time. Ten men comprised one-fifth of his crewmen. Even losing five would be a crushing blow. If facing the Americans in all-out war, they needed every rifleman available. “I will deal with that question only if it becomes a reality.”

  “Understood,” Bach said, swallowing the bitter response.

  Christoph didn’t mean to react so coldly, but the truth was he was just in no mood to anticipate defeat. “I was wondering, if the men on recon fire a rifle, what is the maximum distance away that we could hear it?”

  Bach thought a moment, and said, “Hard to say. Wind conditions play a part. It mostly depends on the terrain and the amounts of trees and foliage. I would think five to seven kilometers at best, but it is probably much less than that.”

  “Well, I will take the fact that we have not heard any gunfire as a good sign.”

  The fire flames had diminished somewhat, and the hot embers glowed like the sun on the horizon. A minute or two of silence had passed before Christoph asked, “Something else on your mind, Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, sir, there is. The crewmen. I had heard some murmurings on the boat before, but the men are speaking a bit more openly now.”

  “What is the concern?” Christoph asked.

  “This mission. These men had no say in the matter. They were forced to leave Germany and move to South America. Yes, some were pleased. Many were more concerned about their families at home.”

  “But once in South America, they can start the process of bringing family over.”

  “There is no guarantee and no way of knowing how long that process could take. But it is more than that. Commander, Hitler may be dead, but the war is not over. Some believe we act like cowards, running to South America, while the Kriegsmarine still battles the enemy.”

  Christoph stiffened his back, and through gritted teeth, said, “We are not cowards. We are loyal members of the Kriegsmarine, and we follow orders. No matter what the orders are. If we are ordered to stay in the war and fight to the death, then we would complete that mission. In this case, we are to land in South America and integrate into different societies. U-616 is to be secretly moved to a Brazilian Naval base where its future has been marked classified.”

  Bach remained silent for several moments as the crackle of burning wood filled the background. In a low voice, and in an even tone, he said, “Some believe all but the members of the SS will be killed when we make land.”

  “What? That is nonsense,” Christoph sprang off the fallen tree and stood. “No German loyal to the Fatherland would commit such an atrocity.”

  “The concern is the SS members are fearful of being discovered once making land. What if one of the crewmen assimilates into a village and then is later discovered to be a German refugee? Does the man trade his knowledge of the most sought after SS elite for a chance at amnesty?”

  “I am a member of the SS, and I have no knowledge of such a plot,” Christoph said.

  “You are a commander in the Kriegsmarine. The others were Hitler’s close associates. You, and Erik, and the rest of us, may be among those who are targeted to die.”

  “I—”

  “Frankly, Commander, I do see this as a strong possibility. These are desperate times. Eichmann, Barbie, Mengele, and Stangl, will be among the highest war criminals sought after. They all have proved to be mad with power. The lengths they may go to protect them
selves may have no limits.”

  Bach’s words shined light on dark truths. A sinking ship always proved a man’s true character. These were men who had seen so much death, but it had bothered them less than a change in the weather. Would the loss of forty-five German lives only be seen as a means to and end?

  “Lieutenant Bach. We cannot allow something as nefarious as you suggest to take place. It would violate every oath we have taken to the Fatherland. Such a ruse would come from desperate men, as you say, outside of the order we have pledged to uphold.”

  “What should we do, sir?”

  “We will watch, observe, look for any hint that such a plan is in the making. If we discover it to be true, then I cannot guarantee our guests will make it to their desired destination. We may very well fail our last mission.”

  *

  Erik Neuzetser had eaten his supper in front of a small fire, sitting by his dad on a tree limb.

  His dad had little to say as they ate, and Erik even less. The conversation they had earlier, as Erik helped clean and load rifles, only added bricks to the wall dividing them.

  There was nothing new in his father’s words of encouragement. He had heard them hundreds, if not thousands, of times before. Repeating the same thing over and over served no purpose. Erik understood the points his father taught. But for him, things in life weren’t so black and white. There was much gray to many issues.

  Erik thought his own father would be at least one person in the world he could confide in. His doubts about the war, the treatment of Jewish people, his desire to study abroad when he was old enough. He wanted to see the world, meet real people of foreign lands. Talk with them, share ideas, share their native food. He wanted to go to Africa and meet black people in a village, see the pyramids in Egypt, the Great Wall of China, and the Indians in the East and West. He couldn’t accept the world was as he was taught.