by T J Kinsella
someone had pointed a gun at him. If he were a Russian agent, the Fuhrer thought to himself, then he probably would not be as nervous.
“And who sent you?” said Hitler, probing further.
“General Wenck, my Fuhrer,” replied Gillitzer, in a tone that suggested the answer was obvious, “He has found a way through, we have transport waiting, my Fuhrer, but we must hurry.”
Hitler kept his pistol trained on the two as he tried to make sense of the situation. He had, indeed, ordered Wenck to try to fight his way through to the chancellery, but reports he had received said that task was impossible. Then again Wenck was renowned for his ability to improvise.
“Wenck, you say?” said Hitler, as he lowered his pistol, “Of course...Wenck always was resourceful.”
The desperation to regain some sliver of hope, quickly overpowered his suspicion and paranoia. He tucked away the cyanide capsule in his breast pocket and rose to his feet, still clutching his pistol. Then, with complete indifference, he stepped over Eva’s body, and moved over to his desk.
“Please my Fuhrer,” urged Gillitzer, “we haven’t much time.”
“Yes, yes,” replied Hitler dismissively, as he rummaged through the desk drawers, “I need some to get some things before we leave.”
He continued searching until he found the small leather-bound notebook that, in recent days, he had been using as a makeshift diary. He snatched it up and, along with a pen, hurriedly shoved them into his breast pocket as well.
“Very well, Captain,” he said, turning to Gillitzer, “Lead the way.”
“Certainly, my Fuhrer,” replied Gillitzer, “we just have one last detail to take care of...”
Gillitzer gestured to his companion, who then moved back out into the corridor. Hitler watched, somewhat puzzled, as, a few seconds later the young officer returned, dragging a large black sack behind him. The bag was made of a material that was unfamiliar to him, and contained, somewhat disturbingly, what appeared to be a human body.
“What is that?” Hitler asked, with a look of confusion.
“Just a little something to help cover our tracks...” Replied Gillitzer cryptically. “Now, if you would, please follow me.”
The Fuhrer, with pistol still in hand, then followed the captain as he stepped out into the corridor, leaving the young officer to his task. As he passed through the doorway, he saw the prostate figure of the soldier that had been posted to guard his quarters, lying face down on the floor. A second guard, in an identical condition, lay at the foot of the stairs.
“What happened to them?” he asked, as they moved towards the staircase.
“I’m afraid that Lieutenant Braal, here, had to incapacitate them,” replied Gillitzer, “they were rather insistent that we did not disturb you, and we didn’t have the time to try to convince them.”
“I see...” said the Fuhrer, looking back at the guard, as they walked down the corridor.
Gillitzer paused as they reached the staircase, and waited for Braal’s return. A few seconds later, the young officer re-emerged from the Hitler’s quarters, with the now empty sack, roll up and tucked under his arm. The Fuhrer was now, however, more intrigued by the condition of his guards, than by the curious contents of the bag.
There was something about the two guards position, that troubled him...something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. They were both completely rigid and lying in a slightly unnatural way, as if they had been frozen solid. He put the thought to the back of his mind, however, as the three of them began making their way up the stairs.
The sound of Russian shells grew steadily louder, as they began to near the exit, and the musty air of the bunker became notably fresher. They carried on up the numerous flights of steps, until there was only one staircase that remained between them and the surface. As they neared the bunker door, the Fuhrer could see another figure amidst the gloom.
Another of the bunker guards was standing next to the door, leant against the wall, but as Hitler approached he noticed, once again, that something was amiss. The guard, as with the one outside his quarters, was as stiff as a board, and rather than standing, he was propped up against the wall. The sight of the mannequin-like figure was distinctly unnerving and stopped the Fuhrer in his tracks.
Whatever they had done to the guard was quite unlike anything Hitler had ever seen before. So strange was the sight that he became immediately suspicious of his would-be rescuers, once again. Whoever they were, he was starting to very much doubt that were from the Twelfth Army
“What, the hell, have you done to him?” he said, as the two reached the door.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” replied Gillitzer, “He’ll be back to normal in an hour or two.”
“That’s not what I asked,” said Hitler, aiming his pistol at them a second time, “Now I’m going to ask you again...who sent you and what have you done to my guards?”
Upon hearing the Fuhrer’s gun being cocked, the two men slowly turned to face him, then raised their hands. They briefly looked at one another, appearing resigned, although uncomfortable, with being forced to reveal their true intentions.
“Your guards have been hit by a stasis field,” began Gillitzer with obvious reluctance, “they will completely recover in an hour or two but, for the moment, they are frozen in time. As to who sent us...”
He paused before continuing, as if he was struggling to find the words he needed.
“We were sent,” he continued after taking a deep breath, “by the High Council of the Fourth Reich.”
“The Fourth Reich?” repeated Hitler, still gripping his pistol.
“Yes, my Fuhrer,” answered Gillitzer, “we have travelled back through time, from the year Twenty five, twenty six...a time where the Fourth Reich has achieved world domination.”
Hitler’s astonishment at the statement was only outweighed by curiosity. Whilst Gillitzer’s claim was nothing short of fantastic, his voice and manner appeared to be filled with complete sincerity. Could his story, although totally unbelievable, possibly be true?
“And how, exactly,” he said after a moment, “did you achieve this miracle?”
“Through the ingenuity and determination of the Reich’s finest minds,” answered the Captain, “the technology has been available to us for a number of years now, although this is the first mission in earnest.”
“And what does your high council want from me?”
“Leadership, my Fuhrer,” said Gillitzer, “direction...purpose. Whilst the Reich has conquered the world, it is in danger of tearing itself apart from within. We are on the verge of civil war...we need someone who can unite us...someone with real strength. We need you, my Fuhrer!”
Hitler continued pointing his pistol firmly towards Gillitzer as he considered the captain’s extraordinary claims. Whilst most people would have dismissed the tale immediately, Hitler was strangely swayed by the captain’s explanation. If there were two things that he believed in, it was the dominance of the German race, as well as his own self-importance...and Gillitzer’s story reinforced both.
“Very well, Gillitzer,” he said after a further moment, “Carry on...but if I see anything that suggests that you are lying to me, then I will not hesitate in killing you.”
“Of course, my Fuhrer,” said Gillitzer, as he and Braal began opening bunker door.
Although the sky was overcast, Hitler found great relief as his eyes met daylight for the first time in days. Waiting outside the bunker door was another Twelfth army officer as well as a young woman, who looked a little old for the Hitler youth uniform that she was wearing. The two, who were apparently also under Gillitzer’s group, offered a stiff salute upon seeing the trio emerge.
“Where is our Transport, Captain?” asked the Fuhrer.
“At the Tiergarten, my Fuhrer,” replied Gillitzer, “no more than a few minutes’ walk.”
“Then Captain, if you please,” said Hitler, as he gestured with a wave of his pistol, “lead on.”
; As the sound of gunfire and artillery raged in the distance, the group started out across the grassed area that separated the bunker area from the Chancellery buildings. Gillitzer lead the way, with Hitler following close behind, his pistol still loosely pointed at his rescuers.
They had taken no more than a few steps before they heard the terrifying wail of a volley of Russian rockets. All of them looked up to the east to see a stream of golden flames arcing through the air toward them. Gillitzer stopped dead in the tracks as he tried to decide how close the volley would strike.
Satisfied that they were in no danger of being caught in the barrage, Gillitzer stood motionless and watched as the rockets started to come down a few hundred yards away to the north. With the danger apparently passed, the group started off for the Tiergarten once again.
The last of the rockets came down at the end of Wilhelm Strasse, causing a large fire amongst the many vehicles that were parked there. The fire raged for a few seconds before it ignited a number of fuels tanks, causing a huge secondary explosion. The force of the blast sent a large piece of shrapnel hurtling down the road until it clipped off a lamp post and went spinning over the chancellery wall. Unseen and unheard by any of the group, the shrapnel then skipped off the ground and came flying towards them.
As it came glinting through the air, Hitler caught sight of it from the corner of his eye. The speed with which it was travelling, left him no time to react in any way,
