Incursion

by Richard Turner

  “Fucking hell,” muttered the soldier. “Do you think they are coming after us for our attack upon their camp?”

  Freytag shrugged his shoulders. “All I know is that whoever got in and out of this camp undetected first strangled and then gutted Zabel like a pig. His liver had been removed. It was horrible. His blood coated the snow all around his body. I’ll never forget the look of horror on poor old Zabel’s face. It was as if he had looked into the very eyes of the Devil himself.”

  Placing his head between his hands, the soldier began to mumble incoherently to himself.

  Seizing on the soldier’s growing fear, the imposter leant forward until he was inches away from the soldier’s ear, and whispered, “Between you and I, Sergeant Muller didn’t seem the slightest bit upset about Zabel’s death. In fact, he was there the instant I called for help. He must have been only yards away.”

  The young soldier lifted his head, and looked over at Freytag, tears filled his eyes. “He does seem to be everywhere, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s always around them.”

  “Who?”

  “The allied prisoners, that’s who. I’ve seen him talking to the American officer with respect, like he was one of our own.”

  “You don’t think he made a deal with the allied prisoners…his life for all of ours?”

  “I’m not saying anything. All I know is that Muller was close, too close if you ask me, when Zabel was brutally murdered.”

  The door to the barracks opened and in stepped Sergeant Muller.

  The imposter smiled to himself when he saw the look of distrust in the young soldier’s eyes as Muller shook off the snow from his jacket and walked towards them.

  Muller announced loudly, “Major Vogel has ordered that all patrols will be doubled immediately.”

  A loud groan sounded throughout the room.

  “Also I need a couple of men to stand guard at the mess hall for a few hours.” Freytag instantly shot up his hand. “I’ll do it.”

  “Anyone else feel like volunteering before I pick someone?” said Muller, eyeing the soldiers sitting nearest to Freytag.

  “Koch will come with me,” said Freytag as he hit the scared young soldier on the arm.

  “Fine, Koch just volunteered,” said Muller. “The new duty roster will be posted on the door in the next five minutes. Make sure that you read it and are ready to go when it is your turn to go outside. And remember, there may be a saboteur loose out there, but he’s nothing compared to me. Do your job, or so help me, I’ll make your life so miserable that your mother will wish that you’d never been born.”

  With that, Muller headed back outside.

  “Why did you volunteer me to go to the bloody meat locker?” said Koch to Freytag, using the soldiers’ morbid nickname for the mess hall.

  “Think about it. You’ll be out of the wind and safely away from Muller. Besides it’ll give us a chance to talk some more.”

  With an unenthusiastic nod, Koch stood up and then headed back to his cot to grab his jacket and his rifle.

  The imposter sat there staring at Koch. By the time he was finished with him, his mind would be so polluted with fear and distrust that he would be like a virus. Before too long, his mistrust would infect the thoughts of others.

  24

  Weather Station

  “Oy there, Captain, snap out of it,” said Bruce as he handed Shaw a cup of coffee.

  Turning his head, Shaw saw Bruce standing there with a deeply concerned look on his face. Looking at Bruce, he decided right then and there that he wasn’t going mad. If he were going to see his brother, surely it would be on the faces of the people he trusted, not random strangers. Taking the coffee, he felt the warmth of the cup radiate through his cold hands. He thanked Bruce and then asked him and Anna to join him by the stove.

  Anna took a seat and then said, “Captain, you’ve been sitting there staring out the window for the past half an hour. What happened out there? Why are the Germans so uneasy?”

  Shaw took a deep breath and then exhaled. He took a sip of coffee and told them about the latest butchered soldier and his run-in with Wagner, whom he figured was becoming un-hinged. Hesitating for a moment, he quickly made up his mind that he had to trust them and described his meeting with his dead brother and how real it had all seemed to him.

  Bruce scrunched up his face and said, “Captain, don’t take this the wrong way, but did you perhaps bang your head when we jumped from the plane? It wasn’t the most fun I’ve ever had.”

  Shaw shook his head. Remembering how disconcerting it was to jump out a hole in the floor of the bomber into the pitch-black night. “This isn’t the first time that I have seen my brother. Back in the woods, I saw him chatting with Anna by the fire. I thought perhaps I was tired and just seeing things but when I looked closer my brother had changed.”

  “Changed how?” asked Anna.

  “I know this is going to sound a bit unbelievable, but in the blink of an eye, he changed from my brother, Andrew, into Gert.”

  “You’re right sir, it does sound unbelievable,” said Bruce. “But after seeing everything that has happened to us to date I am willing to go out on a limb and say that I believe something decidedly odd is going on.”

  Anna shook her head. “Captain, perhaps you are still suffering from grief over the loss of your brother. For some people, grief can last a short period and in others, it never really goes away. When I went to nursing school in Oslo, I read studies in which they say the emotional bond between siblings can be greater than between married couples. These manifestations of your brother could be your mind’s way of dealing with your grief.”

  Shaking his head, Shaw said, “I don’t think so. I am willing to admit that I may have overdone it by hitting the bottle almost every night since I learned about Andrew’s death. I know that it’s not healthy to act that way, and it’s something that I need to deal with when we get back home. The thing that troubles me is that Andrew, or whoever he is seems to know when I am looking at him. His expression changes the instant he realizes that I am aware of his presence. He goes from being himself to a cold and hostile individual. Something that Andrew most definitely was not. He was a constant practical joker, who never seemed to let life bother him. If I were truly grieving for my brother, why would I want his demeanor change? He acts as if I were not his brother, but his enemy. I’d want him to be himself wouldn’t I?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Anna.

  “We seem to be saying I don’t know an awful lot these past few days,” said Bruce. “I think we have to assume that aside from the three of us, no one outside of this room can ever be trusted. Not that I trust these Germans anyway.”

  “Agreed,” said Shaw.

  “So now what do we do now?” asked Anna.

  “We’ll have to remain vigilant until we are moved from the camp. We have to ensure that we aren’t caught by surprise,” said Shaw.

  “I guess you’re proposing we take turns being a sentry inside our guarded cell,” said Bruce, thinking about the irony of what he had just said.

  “Afraid so,” said Shaw.

  “Fine, you look like you’re ready to fall down,” said Bruce to Shaw. “I’ll take the first four-hour shift and Anna the second. If we are still locked up in here after that, then you can pull a shift.”

  Shaw nodded his head. He stood up, grabbed a blanket and then sat down on the floor. He could feel the fatigue in his bones. He was exhausted and welcomed the chance to get some sleep. Before lying down, he looked over at Anna and said, “Why the internal organs?”

  “Pardon?” said Anna.

  “When we were in the barracks you said that someone had removed the heart, liver, and kidneys from the body that you examined.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Why do you think that someone would want to take those organs?”

  Anna sat there for a moment lost in thought.

  Bruce looked over and said, “I read in the paper a
bout a fella in London, who was convicted of the ritualistic killings of four people just before the war started. The paper said that he had cut out the people’s innards to release their souls or some other such nonsense. Naturally, he was caught by Scotland Yard and hung for his heinous crimes.”

  “I’m not sure that is the answer,” said Shaw, stifling a yawn behind his hand.

  “Well, the liver is incredibly good for you,” said Anna. “It is jam-packed with nutrients.”

  “The heart and kidneys?” said Shaw.

  “Same thing. All of those organs are packed with vitamins and minerals, more so than in animal meat.”

  Bruce said, “Captain, surely you aren’t thinking that these men were killed and their organs harvested to eat?”

  “Why else do it?” said Shaw.

  “Lord help us all. This mission is turning into a visit to a frozen hell.”

  “Hell indeed,” said Shaw to himself as he lay down. Closing his eyes, he was relieved that only blackness filled his mind. Talking about his brother with Bruce and Anna helped ease his fears about seeing Andrew. Before he finally drifted off to sleep, he began to wonder why he could see Andrew while others could not.

  25

  Weather Station

  January 21st, 1942

  Vogel held out his hand towards the stove. His mind and body were tired. He hadn’t slept for days and was beginning to wonder when he might be able to put his head down for few hours of much-needed sleep. He decided to wait until Muller was on shift. Beckers outranked the sergeant, but Muller had far more experience and was someone whom he could trust to remain calm if things once again suddenly turned bad in the camp.

  Outside, the long, dark night was slowly being replaced by the gray light of dawn. Vogel was happy to hear that no one else had been killed during the night. He had ordered the camp searched from top to bottom, just in case the killer was still hiding somewhere inside the camp waiting to strike, to kill again. The search had turned up nothing. Deep down, Vogel hadn’t expected to find anything, but the search had kept the men busy. That last thing he needed was a camp full of angry, distrustful men.

  A loud knock at the door made Vogel look up. Through weary eyes, he saw Beckers standing there looking just as tired and harried.

  “Yes,” said Vogel.

  “Sir, you asked to be informed when the clearance patrol was heading out,” replied Beckers.

  “So I did. Who is leading it?”

  “Corporal Zach is sir. He volunteered. He’s taking his entire squad with him.”

  “Thank you,” said Vogel. “Lieutenant, you look exhausted. We need to share the load, so I want you to put your head down for four hours.”

  “Yes sir,” said the young officer, turning to leave.

  “One last thing Beckers, have Sergeant Muller report to me right away.”

  Beckers nodded his head and then left to find the sergeant, whom he knew would be somewhere walking the perimeter of the camp, checking on the sentries. The man never seemed to tire.

  Taking a sip of coffee, Vogel peered out the window and decided that unless something happened by noon that he would abandon the camp, take the dead, and head straight back to battalion headquarters. Whatever had happened here would have to remain a mystery for now.

  Zach could feel the cold, early-morning wind whip across the open ground outside of the camp. Although warmly bundled, Zach could feel the cold envelope his body, trying to find a way inside and steal the precious warmth from his body. The snow was almost knee deep. Each step took great effort. Cursing himself for not thinking to bring snowshoes, he led the patrol slowly around the entire perimeter of the camp looking for tracks from last night’s attack. Although he prided himself on being able to track almost anything, Zach knew that the amount of snow that fell last night had probably obliterated the clues he was looking for.

  They trudged on for close to an hour until they came parallel to the place in the fence where the killer had entered the camp. Ordering his men into an extended line, Zach had them advance, slowly, methodically, looking for anything that might help them determine had happened the night before. Pushing their way through the snow, the soldiers soon began to tire. They had been on their feet all night and needed some rest, but Zach knew that he had to push his men, or they could all share the same fate as Zabel.

  “Corporal,” called out one of his men.

  Turning his head, Zach saw a soldier standing there staring down at his feet. Pushing his way past a couple of men bent over gasping and wheezing as if they had just finished a long run, Zach moved over by the soldier. Looking at his feet, Zach saw the tattered remains of a German Army greatcoat. Bending down, he picked it up and examined it. The jacket had been shredded and was covered in frozen blood. Thinking back to the oversized cat paw prints he had discovered in the woods, Zach’s gut told him that it couldn’t be a coincidence. Something very large with razor-sharp teeth and claws had attacked and killed Zabel, of that he had no doubt.

  Dropping to his knees, Zach started to dig away at the snow. After a few seconds, he found a bloodied and torn boot with most of the foot still inside of it. A piece of shattered bone protruded from the end of the boot. Bringing it close, Zach saw that the bone had been snapped and that deep grooves had been dug into the bone. He knew teeth bite marks when he saw them, only he had never seen any this large before in his life. Handing the boot to the nearest soldier, who turned instantly turned pale, Zach went back to work. Pushing more snow aside, he found a black leather belt that had been gnawed upon.

  “Good God. No,” muttered a soldier behind Zach. “What could have done this?”

  “A better question right now is: who is this? Is he one of ours or was he from the weather station?” said Zach.

  Standing up, he ordered one man to remain on sentry while everyone else spread out and looked for more pieces of the man’s remains. Taking a deep breath of cool air to clear his mind, Zach looked down at woods at the base of the hill. His instincts told him that whatever had eaten the soldier was down there hidden from sight amongst the thick evergreen forest. There had been two sets of tracks near the partisan camp. Zach knew that large cats preferred to live solitary lives, but somehow these animals were the exception to the rule. They hunted their prey together. He had practically grown up with a rifle in hands and had learned to hunt animals when he was a young boy. Bears, boars, even a lynx, shot while on holiday with his uncle in the Swiss Alps, had all fallen to him, but this animal was different. He recalled the tracks in the woods and sensed that something he had never come across had followed them back to the camp. Why, he did not know, but for the first time in his life, he was truly afraid of something unseen, something that stalked the woods.

  Shaw struggled to open his eyes. His eyelids felt as if they were glued shut. Looking over at his wristwatch, it took a few seconds for his weary eyes to focus on the face of his watch. Taking a deep breath to clear his sleepy mind, he saw that he had been asleep for the better part of six hours. With a loud yawn, Shaw stretched out his tired frame and then sat up. Sitting in a chair looking out the window was Bruce. Turning his head, he saw Anna on the floor fast asleep, snoring away. Hearing his bones pop and creak as he slowly got up from the floor, Shaw took a moment to reach up into the air and then bent down to touch his toes. He stayed there for a few seconds, stretching out his sore and tired muscles. Standing up he could smell the rich aroma of fresh brewed coffee coming from a pot on the stove. Pouring himself a cup, Shaw grabbed a hard cracker from the German rations they had been given and then sat down beside Bruce.

  “I thought Anna would be on shift by now,” Shaw said to Bruce.

  “Oh, I’ll wake her in an hour or two,” replied Bruce, still looking out the window.

  Turning his head to look out the window, Shaw asked, “What’s so damned interesting?”

  “Two things. First, about thirty minutes ago, a bunch of German lads walked past here carrying what looked like the remains of another
soldier. It was hard to tell precisely what they had in their hands because the pieces were so small. But they all looked scared out of their wits.”

  “And secondly?”

  “We’ve got company,” said Bruce, pointing out the window at four German Army jeeps parked outside the camp’s headquarters building.

  “Did you recognize who they were?”

  “I’m not a soldier like you, so one German soldier looks like another to me. However, these fellows are unmistakable. They’re dressed from head to toe in black.”

  “SS,” swore Shaw, shaking his head. Things had just turned for the worst, and he knew it.

  Vogel held the shredded greatcoat in hands. It looked as if a scythe had been taken to the jacket. “Did you find anything else out there?” Vogel asked Corporal Zach.

  “A boot, a belt, a scarf and a helmet that looked like it had been crushed in a vice,” replied Zach, placing the items on the table in front of Vogel.

  “Any recognizable remains?”

  “No sir, the only thing I can say is that it was one of our men.”

  Vogel looked over at Zach. The man, like everyone else, looked ready to drop. “How do you know he was one of ours and not one from the weather station?”

  Zach grabbed the crushed and blood stained helmet and turned it so the number two in Roman italics showed. “Second battalion, that’s us. The men here wouldn’t have had that number on their helmets.”

  “He’s right, sir,” said Muller from the doorway. “The helmet belonged to one of our men.”

  “Find out if a man is missing. With all of the confusion, last night, I hate to say it but we may have lost another man and just don’t know it yet,” said Vogel to Muller.

  “Already on it sir, Lance Corporal Steiner is going through the barracks personally accounting for everyman as we speak.”

  Muller was worth his weight in gold, thought Vogel. The man had more initiative than most of the officers he had worked with back Oslo.