“You are to stand at attention with your eyes looking straight ahead, arms at your side,” Von Helldorf instructed the prisoner. “If you are found sitting, sleeping, or in any other position than what I just described, you will be shot like a dog. Let me assure you, that if you are foolish enough to try to leave, you will be cooked alive.”
The Captain took a remote control device out of his coat pocket. He aimed the remote control towards a sensor at the top of the jail cell and pressed a button on it. Lines of red laser beams appeared, running from ceiling to floor in front of the cell.
Wayne assumed the position of standing at attention.
Von Helldorf and his men left the cellblock, locking the door behind them.
To say that Wayne was a little in pain then would have been like saying the Grand Canyon was nothing more than a little hold in the ground. Wayne mustered the tiny amount of strength he had remaining to keep standing, a torture in its own way. He ached everywhere and wavered where he stood.
Later that evening, around midnight, SS Captain Von Helldorf was busy working in his office. His office was by no means extravagant, but was beautifully furnished with velvet furniture and ivory carved figures. Ivory, imported from Africa, was the latest craze among the SS elite.
Von Helldorf was sticking colored pins into a big wall map. The map was a representation of what was once called Manhattan Island, but the letters on the map indicated the area was NEW BERLIN CITY. There was a knock at the door.
“Who is it?” Von Helldorf asked, slightly louder than in his normal talking voice. He waited for an answer, but did not hear one through the closed door of his office. The Captain left the map, went to the door, and opened it. Dr. Lisa Hoffmann was there to see him. “Yes?”
“I am here for the release of a prisoner,” Dr. Hoffmann stated.
“Who are you?”
“Doctor Lisa Hoffmann: identity number D3847835. I am a tenured professor at New Berlin University.” She showed a work identity card, required of all employees in the Reich, to Von Helldorf.
“Come in,” the Captain said.
Dr. Hoffmann walked into the SS Captain’s office. She had never seen so much beautiful ivory in one place. Personally, she was appalled that the great African elephants were coming dangerously close to extinction because of certain bureaucrats’ insatiable appetites for the ivory, but that was not a subject she dare bring up.
“Please, sit down,” Von Helldorf offered.
Dr. Hoffmann sat down in a comfortable chair across from the Captain’s moderately sized teak desk.
“This is strange. Are you not the same Dr. Lisa Hoffmann mentioned in my report who had turned in the prisoner in the first place?” Von Helldorf questioned. “That is, if we are speaking about the same prisoner who had been picked up at NBU.”
“Yes, sir. I am the one who called the authorities and with good reason.”
“What authorization do you have for your request?”
Dr. Hoffmann handed some official looking papers to the Captain.
Von Helldorf scrutinized the papers. “This is very odd,” he said. “You are telling me that the mentioned prisoner here is part of an experiment?”
“Correct. A very important research study in psychological stress that could have far reaching implications for the Reich.”
Captain Von Helldorf did not understand. “How can this be, that a subject would put himself in such a dangerous situation?”
Dr. Hoffmann replied, “An advanced form of hypnosis was used.” She explained, “After the subject had volunteered for the project, all of the subject’s memories had to be temporarily erased and a new identity installed, so to speak, in its place. In order for me to gauge psychological stress accurately, the subject had to actually believe that what was happening was a real situation.” Dr. Hoffmann had rehearsed her lines well.
“Why was I not informed?” Captain Von Helldorf wanted to know.
Dr. Hoffmann had a ready-made response. “So you would not show any leniency on the subject.”
“This was approved by the Reich Institute for Scientific Experiments as is required?”
“Yes, sir.”
Captain Von Helldorf glanced down again at the papers that the professor had given him. Everything appeared to be in order, right down to the official seals. He picked up his phone receiver to notify the cellblock guards of a prisoner’s release.
Dr. Hoffmann waited in the Gestapo headquarters’ main area, near the entrance to the building. Wayne, who still was in pain, but at least had been permitted to put his clothes back on, was brought up to Dr. Hoffmann by a Gestapo man.
“Thank you,” Dr. Hoffmann said.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you,” Wayne said to Dr. Hoffmann.
“Keep your mouth shut,” she whispered back to him.
As Dr. Hoffmann and Wayne walked out of the Gestapo headquarters and into the dark night, SS Captain Von Helldorf watched the two of them with a trace of suspicion in his eye.
Without saying a word, Dr. Hoffmann led Wayne to her car, an aged, yellow Volkswagen Beetle. Dr. Hoffmann opened the door on the driver’s side and got in the car. Wayne stood there, not sure what he was supposed to do. Did this woman he thought he knew want him to get in the vehicle with her? Could he even trust her after the stunt she had pulled earlier with calling those goons on him? Wayne, wanting some answers, got into the car.
Dr. Hoffmann turned the ignition key, shifted the car into gear, and started driving. After she had driven half a mile from Gestapo headquarters, Dr. Hoffmann, without taking her eyes off the road, asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve just been put through a meat grinder, thanks to you,” Wayne said pissed off. “Why did you call those schmucks on me? What the hell is going on here, Doctor Hoffmann?”
“You indicated earlier to me that your name was a Wayne Goldberg, I recall.”
“It still is,” Wayne said. He was stunned. Could Dr. Hoffmann really not have known who he was now?
As they drove, Wayne viewed the landscape of the city streets. It did not seem like the old city of Manhattan that he had been so familiar with. Buildings appeared to have a strange hybrid of a neoclassical and modern architectural design, with a distinct European flavor. He did not recognize any of them. The biggest difference, Wayne noticed, was the fact that never before had he seen the city so quiet. It had never been so dead. It now had a barrenness that was unnatural. This wasn’t the same city that Wayne knew so well and it hadn’t been for over forty years.
“You will need a place to stay tonight,” Dr. Hoffmann said. “Since I am single, I have been assigned to live with a family. The house has an extra room that you can sleep in. I sometimes bring students over to the house to work on projects with me late into the night, so your being there should not arouse any suspicions.”
“You didn’t answer my question, what is going on here?” Wayne asked again. “You told me that nothing could go wrong. I mean, at first I thought all this was a joke — you pretending not to know me, your changed appearance, those Nazis arresting me. But then me getting whipped and tortured — nobody would take a prank that far. Explain to me what got so fucked up.”
Dr. Hoffmann rolled down her window to let fresh air in. A pleasant breeze swept through the small automobile. “I do not know who you are. I risked my life to get you released for one reason.”
“How nice of you,” Wayne sarcastically said. “And what do I owe this great honor to?”
“My curiosity was aroused when you mentioned the time machine and the letter my father had written me prior to my being sent to what was then the United States of America,” Dr. Hoffmann stated. “I have never mentioned nor discussed those two things to anybody. Ever. How did you have knowledge of the time machine and the letter?”
“You really don’t recognize me?”
“No.”
“Oh, boy,” Wayne sighed.
“Wayne, tell me where you’re from. Please
explain to me how you know who I am. Please explain how you are acquainted with the private things in my life,” Dr. Hoffmann begged more than asked.
“Where do I even start,” Wayne said. “Damn, my back is killing me.” Wayne tried to reposition his body in the small bug, but there was barely enough room to move. Wayne thought about the insanity of his situation and exhaled deeply. “Well, here goes,” he began, “You were teaching my advanced physics class at New York University when one day at the end of class you asked me…”
Wayne related to Dr. Hoffmann about how she had asked him to come to her laboratory on that day, about how she had put her time machine to use, about the Hindenburg incident, about what she had shared with him about her parent’s fate in Germany, and, of course, about how she had sent him back in time to kill Adolf Hitler to make the world a better place.
The one incident Wayne did not tell her of was the incident with her parents, Josef and Greta, in 1933 Nazi Germany. He was not sure how Dr. Hoffmann would have taken that news. After he finished talking, Dr. Hoffmann rebounded with a multitude of questions. She wanted to know about the world Wayne came from. What it was like to live in a democratic society. She was very interested in the politics of the major countries of the world and had been astonished when Wayne told her that in his world men had already walked on the moon. No programs existed or had ever existed in the Reich for such a superb accomplishment. With no history of a cold war between the German Unified Territories and any of the few independent countries in the world, the Reich had never deemed it essential to develop a space program. Germans did not have to travel to the moon to know they were a superior people.
“Fascinating,” was Dr. Hoffmann’s response to what Wayne had told her.
They approached the George Washington Bridge. It was a vaguely familiar sight; he used to drive over it to go from Manhattan to New Jersey when he and his friends would go to canoe down the Delaware River.
The Volkswagen pulled over to the side of the road and stopped in front of a small building that had a sign out front that read: INSPECTION.
“Why are we stopping?” Wayne asked.
“Inspection,” Dr. Hoffmann said. “Keep quiet. I have papers for you.”
An inspector — a youthful, Nordic appearing woman — sauntered up to the Beetle. “Work pass card.” she requested from Dr. Hoffmann, as she had a hundred times a day from other people as well.
“Here is my card,” Dr. Hoffmann said as she removed her pass card from her coat pocket and handed it to the inspector.
The inspector noted Wayne. “Pass card or papers for the passenger,” she requested of the professor.
Dr. Hoffmann removed official sealed papers from her breast pocket and gave them to the Reich Ministry of Road Travel employee. Dr. Hoffmann had forged the required travel papers on short notice and was proud of how authentic she had made them appear. She didn’t foresee any problems at the inspection site.
The inspector surveyed Dr. Hoffmann’s pass card and Wayne’s travel papers and then instructed Dr. Hoffmann, “Pop the trunk.”
The inspector who worked the shift when Dr. Hoffmann usually drove by, at an earlier time of day, would routinely wave Dr. Hoffmann through the inspection site without making her stop. She guessed, after he had been stopping her and checking her pass card for ten years, that the inspector finally trusted she was indeed authorized to travel out of the city.
Dr. Hoffmann popped the trunk of her rear-engine Volkswagen.
The female inspector took a quick view of the inside of the empty cavity, and then slammed the trunk shut. She walked around to Dr. Hoffmann’s side of the car and informed her, “Everything is in order. You may proceed.” She handed the professor’s pass card and Wayne’s travel papers back to Dr. Hoffmann.
Dr. Hoffmann thanked the inspector, shifted the car into gear, and stepped on the gas. As the car traveled onto the massive bridge, Wayne saw a sign that read: HERMANN GÖRING MEMORIAL BRIDGE.
“What was that all about?” Wayne inquired of Dr. Hoffmann.
“That was an inspection checkpoint. Not many people are permitted to commute beyond a certain distance to go to and from work,” Dr. Hoffmann told Wayne. “I am because my work is considered important.” Dr. Hoffmann had always been proud of the fact that she had an extra privilege that most other citizens did not. It made her feel as if she had more freedom than she actually did.
Wayne still had a whole bunch of important questions he needed to ask the professor. Most pressing, he wanted to find out what had gone wrong with Hitler’s assassination. “So I’m to understand that the United States is now a German territory and is run by Nazis,” he said.
“Correct,” the professor responded.
“Un-fuckin-believable.”
“Please, Mr. Goldberg. I do not like profanity used in my presence,” Dr. Hoffmann said.
“Well, in certain situations I think it’s appropriate,” Wayne retorted. “And I think this is definitely one of those situations.”
Dr. Hoffmann kept her eyes on the road and didn’t say a word.
“I’m sorry. Please, go on,” Wayne apologized, which he thought absurd since she was responsible for him being there.
Dr. Hoffmann spoke, “What was called the United States is now part of the German Unified Territories, a conglomeration of the countries once called France, England, the Soviet Union, Canada, Poland, Holland, Norway, Denmark, Czech—”
“Okay, okay, I get the idea,” Wayne interrupted. “But how? Hitler was killed in 1933, six years before the beginning of World War Two. Didn’t National Socialism die out?”
“No,” the professor replied. “After Adolf Hitler died, the party’s second-in-command, Hermann Göring, took over as leader of the National Socialist Party.”
“Then?”
“Hermann Göring was a ruthless leader. Under him, the Nazi Party continued to grow at a rapid pace. The Nazis soon began invading their neighboring countries, easily conquering them. In part, because of Göring’s push for technological innovations, we won the Battle of Britain early on. We beat the British out at developing radar. After England fell, the next country Germany invaded was the Soviet Union, which too fell to the Germans.”
“What about the Nazis not being able to withstand the Russian winter? What about that?” Wayne was anxious to know.
“No, when Germany invaded the Soviet Union,” Dr. Hoffman continued on, “with half a million troops, it was in the springtime. Moscow fell just a few months later — August 19th, I believe was the date. It would have been suicide to start a campaign against an enemy the size of the Soviet Union in the fall or winter.”
“Then what happened?” Wayne asked.
“Then it was time, Göring decided, to go after the good old United States of America. It was a long, bloody battle, but in winter, 1947, after Germany became the first nation to develop the atomic bomb… well, I do not have to tell you who won the war. Nazis thought so highly of themselves after that, that they started their new calendar then, with 1949 becoming year number one.”
Wayne was amazed at what she had said. “Germany developing the atomic bomb first, before the Americans! There’s no way. What about Albert Einstein?”
“Einstein?” Dr. Hoffmann said perplexed.
“The famous scientist,” Wayne tried to jog her memory. “You know, the one with the curly hair who developed the theory of relativity. E = MC2 and all that. He left Germany in the thirties because he was Jewish.”
“Oh, him,” Dr. Hoffmann remembered who the man was. “He was killed by German spies around 1940. Nothing was sacred to the Nazis. They found a way to murder many important American scientists.”
Wayne sat speechless for a minute as everything Dr. Hoffmann said sank into his brain. What had he done? He became irate and verbally lashed out at Dr. Hoffmann in a fury, “Göring, Göring, fuckin’ Göring! You didn’t take that into account, Dr. Hoffmann. You didn’t take that into account,” Wayne repeated. “How could you no
t have considered Hermann Göring taking over the Nazi party, being a great military leader, developing atomic bombs, not making the mistakes Hitler did, and winning the war,” he ranted with indignation. “YOU BLOODY WELL DIDN’T TAKE THAT INTO ACCOUNT!”
Dr. Hoffmann stopped her Volkswagen in front of a small two-story house that looked as dreary and unassuming as all of the other houses that surrounded it on the quiet, suburban residential lane. On the mailbox in front of the house, the name read: Rausching.
“Do not accuse me of anything,” Dr. Hoffmann raised her voice to Wayne. What he had said upset her. “I have no memory or knowledge of actions I might have taken as an entity in a different time plane. Whatever my alternative self has done, I know nothing of it. I risked my ass to save yours.”
“My ass is here because of you,” Wayne said sharply.
Tears began to stream down Dr. Hoffmann’s cheeks. “Its all my fault. All my fault,” she softly spoke.
There were certain people Wayne could never picture crying, such as his dad, John Wayne, and Dr. Hoffmann. But, these were extraordinary circumstances, and when Wayne watched her cry, he felt closeness to her that he had not ever felt before. He gave her a hug.
“I’m sorry,” Wayne said. “Thanks for saving me. Now we have to work together and somehow undo our mistake.”
Dr. Hoffmann regained her equanimity, “We’re here.” Dr. Hoffmann handed him clothes that had been in the back seat of her car.
“What’s this?” Wayne asked.
“I brought you clean, more suitable clothing. Quickly, put them on.”
“Anything has to be more comfortable than what I’ve got on,” he stated. Wayne removed the filthy clothes he had been wearing, and put the fresh clothes on.
“I will tell the family that you have laryngitis,” Dr. Hoffmann said. “If they hear you speak, they will become suspicious of your strange accent.”
“I talk like every other New Yorker,” he said.
American Reich Page 6
