Operation: Immortal Servitude From Declassified Files of Team of Darkness

by Tony Ruggiero

"Such a sad place,” Iliga said.

  "Well, yes and no.” Mikel said. “You see, after the battle, a small group of monks established a monastery in the region, they wanted to—how do you say? Purify the place. They wanted to cleanse the evil by doing something good. They wanted their monastery to be special. It became the main resource for literature and history books that still remained in print."

  "Books?” Franjo asked.

  "Yes, books. Since the time of its establishment, they had amassed thousands of volumes of various subjects. People would come from all over to read and study the texts they preserved."

  "What happened to it?” Iliga asked.

  "The library remained for three hundred years until its destruction by a mysterious fire. All of the monks were killed as they attempted to save the books that were supposedly stored in deep caverns underneath the monastery. Burned to the ground. The ruins are still visible."

  "You know what else they say about that place?” Josip said. “My grandmother told me that the monks weren't really monks at all but devil worshippers. They also did sacrifices ... blood sacrifices to the devil."

  "Old wives’ tales,” Dimitri said with a casual air of dismissal. “I, too, have heard the stories of this place from my father. They are bedtime tales."

  "I've heard some say the monks that were killed there still haunt it—still trying to save their books,” Josip continued.

  Mikel chuckled and waved his arm. “All grandmothers have stories to tell, don't they? The werewolves that stole the newborns was my grandmother's favorite."

  They all laughed at Mikel's comment, because each of them had heard the same tale. The country was full of ruins and cemeteries that left no one wanting for any story that could possibly be imagined.

  "Don't worry,” Mikel said. “You won't be that close to the ruins. There are some caves I saw on my way through that will offer shelter to you as you keep guard. You won't have to stay at the ruins."

  The group breathed sighs of relief.

  "How long do you think it will be before the Germans come?” Dimitri asked.

  "Maybe a week, maybe a month, and maybe not at all,” Mikel answered with a shrug. “Damn Germans are crazy. Only God knows what they will do."

  They arrived late in the afternoon and made camp at one of the caves that Mikel had seen on his previous trip.

  "There is plenty of room here for all of you. With some work, the cave could be shaped into habitable living quarters, and easily protect you from attack,” Mikel said.

  As darkness settled upon them, Mikel instructed them to make a fire that would be hidden from sight by anyone approaching the pass. Once this was done, they ate and settled in for the night.

  "The first thing we must do tomorrow is establish lookouts and plan a trap in case the Germans come through—along with your plan of escape. I have explosives and weapons that I will leave with you, but I must make sure you know how to use them."

  "We will kill them with our bare hands if we must,” Dimitri said, causing a rowdy stir from his friends. As their leader, he knew he must keep their spirits up. For now, talk would be the tool he chose.

  Mikel smiled sadly. “I thought that way once. Have you ever killed anyone before?” He looked at each young man's face, but he could already tell they had not. “It is easier to kill at a distance than it is to kill up close. If you do it up close, you may either lose your nerve and be killed, or you may kill and be damned by nightmares the rest of your lives. Either way, you're damned if you have any kind of conscience at all. Yes, you'll be haunted for the rest of your lives.” Mikel ignored their disbelieving expressions and lay down to sleep.

  Dimitri looked at Mikel and wondered about the foreboding he felt that had accompanied the soldier's words of death and killing. He wondered if Mikel could see inside of him and know he was scared and know the doubts he had about risking his life. He saw the other men looking at him and knew he needed to say something to reassure them.

  "It's the whiskey talking,” Dimitri said softly. “It makes his words awkward and unworthy for a soldier of the great army of Serbia."

  "We have seen death before. Those that died in the village from old age that came too early in their lives,” Josip replied.

  "But we have not killed another human before. Only sick farm animals or the wolves or bears that prey on our cattle during the winter months,” Andre added.

  "I can do it,” Dimitri said, trying to bolster his own confidence as well as his friends. Inside he wondered if he really would be able to kill when the time came.

  But I must put aside my doubts if I am to be responsible for the lives of my friends.

  "If Dimitri can, so can I,” Josip said.

  "And I!” echoed the remaining three friends.

  "We have all been raised in religious homes, but the killing of those that seek to remove our freedom will be forgiven. For our country,” Dimitri said as he raised his metal cup to initiate the toast and dispel their fears, especially his own.

  "For our country,” the rest agreed. They raised their glasses and drank.

  Dimitri didn't want to think about death anymore tonight. He also didn't know how long he could continue his pretense of not being scared. These men, his friends, were here because they trusted him. If he made the wrong decision, it could get them all killed. He didn't think he could live with that.

  He passed the bottle of whiskey around until they all drank enough so that sleep overcame them.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  "You are their leader to this day,” Reese said. “They followed you to fight for your country and since then. They must admire you greatly."

  "Yes,” Dimitri answered as he cleared his mind of the memory so many years ago. “We all thought we knew about life and death, but our education was about to begin. Even I was fooled."

  "What happened?” Reese asked.

  "Will you tell me why we are here?” Dimitri asked. He no longer cared to tell the story and he felt that it was time to get some of his own questions answered. Information and Reese went together and he surmised that he could use this in some way.

  "I can tell you what I know,” Reese said. “But I do not make the ultimate decision about what happens."

  "But you appear to be in charge."

  "I am what you would call a subject-matter expert. I have done my major contribution, capturing you and bringing you here. My main interest has always been the study of ancient histories to include myths and folklore. That is why I am here."

  "A further quest for knowledge,” Dimitri asked, his eyebrows raised.

  "That is my personal desire, yes. But I am in the military too, so it is a double-edged sword, you might say."

  "I understand. What do you want to know?” Dimitri asked.

  "They don't speak very much, do they?” Reese asked, referring to the others who sat quietly in another corner of the room.

  "No. But they understand perfectly. I believe that when we were made, they had been too badly injured by the Germans and Alexander could not save them in their entirety."

  "What happened?” Reese asked.

  Dimitri's voice turned harsh in tone, “Mikel's information about the German forces was wrong—the Germans were already there ... waiting for us."

  1915

  The German patrol watched the six men as they slept around the diminishing campfire.

  "They are nothing,” the seasoned sergeant said to the lieutenant. “Just farmers, with maybe one excuse of a soldier amongst them. We should not waste our time—"

  "Since when do you decide how our time should be spent—Sergeant?” Lieutenant Oberman barked.

  "Sorry ... sir,” Sergeant Krause responded. His face turned red, but not from the embarrassment, but rather that the lieutenant refused to see the wisdom of his experience.

  "Besides, it doesn't matter. Our orders are clear, Sergeant Krause,” Oberman said. “We are to clear the passes and kill any of the locals that offer resistance. They must be
taught a lesson about our occupation of this country and that this type of behavior will be punishable by death."

  "I understand, sir. But something ... something is just not right about this place,” Krause said.

  "What do you mean? Do you think there are more of them hiding in the hills? An ambush?"

  "I don't know how to explain it, but there is something odd—no, not odd, but something wrong about this place. I've been in the service many years and I have learned to trust my instincts. Those ruins we passed on the way in, they were—"

  "Spare me your instincts, Sergeant. I am in charge here. Get the men ready,” Oberman said, dismissing his sergeant's concerns.

  "Yes, sir.” Krause exhaled his frustration. He glanced with disdain at Oberman. The man was short and pudgy. Just a little more than five feet tall, he weighed about a hundred eighty pounds. His face was marred with the after effects of chicken pox.

  "And Sergeant, I want our actions to reflect our ruthlessness. Don't kill them all at once. I want to interrogate them ... slowly."

  Krause acknowledged Oberman's order with a half-hearted nod, then departed to get the men ready. He hated the lieutenant—not because of his position, for he had been a soldier for many years and understood the role that officers played. But he also had seen many inexperienced officers who did not learn from their experienced sergeants—and through their ignorance, sent many good soldiers to their deaths needlessly.

  This one in particular possessed some other hatred that burned within him, consuming him and driving him to kill and brutalize. This night would end badly if they were not careful.

  The men were all in position shortly: Krause was thorough and his men were professionals. Oberman joined him at a vantage point where they could observe the action.

  "The Serbs are all asleep and the capture should be easy enough,” Krause said.

  "Good. This should be a wonderful opportunity. Remember, I want them alive.” Oberman smiled in anticipation, and Krause knew he looked forward to interrogating the prisoners. “Give the signal."

  Krause gave the signal and the men moved in swiftly. Two shots were fired that exploded the otherwise silent night. The one soldier amongst the group had realized what was happening and drew a weapon. He was shot and killed. Oberman frowned as he saw he would be denied the torture of one less Serb, but the other five were captured easily. The operation was over in less than two minutes.

  * * * *

  The five young men sitting on the cold cave floor were petrified as their gazes darted from the Germans as well as to each other. They were both ashamed and scared. Ashamed that they had come to watch for and possibly kill the Germans, and had allowed their enemies to overwhelm them like helpless children on their first night. Fear accompanied the shame as they wondered what their fate shall be. Would they end up in a prison camp where they would die from overcrowding and starvation? Perhaps they deserved the fate because of their foolishness at thinking that they were anything more than just farmers.

  "You are my prisoners.” Oberman's high-pitched voice sliced through the night's air. “If you cooperate, you shall be released, and you may return to your village and your farms."

  "Lying bastard,” Josip said.

  Oberman turned his gaze on Josip. He studied him for a few moments and then walked toward him.

  "Arrogance shall not be tolerated,” Oberman said. “You will not question what I say. You will answer all questions that are put to you."

  As he neared Josip, Oberman casually removed his service revolver and shot Josip in the arm. Josip screamed in pain and shock as the blood flowed from the wound.

  Sergeant Krause turned toward his men. “I want you to reinforce the positions on the perimeter.” He knew this was not necessary, but it would take them away from the butchery that would follow. They didn't need to see what a failure the lieutenant was.

  "Wait ... we don't know anything!” Dimitri cried to Oberman. “We are just farmers who were asked to guard the pass. That's all! We haven't even been here a day!"

  Oberman looked at Dimitri.

  "You speak for the rest?"

  "Yes,” Dimitri answered. “I am their leader. Do with me as you wish, but I ask you to leave them be. I will tell you what I know."

  Oberman shot him in the leg, a smile on his lips, as if he were a small child playing with favorite toys.

  "I will not tolerate your Serbian lies!” Oberman replaced the revolver in its holster and removed a knife. “You shall be taught respect.” He stepped toward the tied-up men; the knife blade gleamed in the glow of the fire.

  "Lieutenant,” interrupted Krause, trying to diffuse the lieutenant's anger. “Perhaps we should wait before continuing."

  "Nonsense, Sergeant, the time is right,” Oberman said, never taking his gaze from the prisoners.

  "Their wounds ... we should tend to them and keep them alive to learn what we can,” Krause lied to calm Oberman. He was sickened by the excitement in the man's eyes.

  "Let them bleed. They don't know anything,” Oberman said. “Sergeant, go check the men."

  "I have already—"

  "Check the men now!” Oberman shouted.

  The sergeant looked at the bound men; the two who'd been shot were bleeding badly. Reluctantly, he left the cave.

  "You bastard,” Krause cursed, when he was far enough away to not be heard. “You will get us all killed with your sickening pleasures. I will not be part of it any longer. I'm going to report this to our superiors."

  Back in the cave, Oberman moved in with his knife and began to slash the three prisoners who had not been shot. The screams of the men sent eerie chills into the night air as their blood flowed onto the cave floor.

  * * * *

  "Such cruelty,” Reese said.

  Dimitri opened his eyes and looked at Reese. “Perhaps now you understand our reluctance with being captured by the soldiers."

  "Yes,” agreed Reese. “I can see that now."

  "We swore to not allow ourselves to be captured again. But I never thought that someone would understand how to accomplish it like you did. I underestimated you and the rest of the humanity."

  "But why was Oberman so cruel?"

  "A question that has been asked throughout time and will continue to be as long as humanity walks the planet. Perhaps he was taking revenge for something that happened to him in his life—anger is but love disappointed in one shape or another. A disjointed childhood, an abusive relationship; the causes are infinite but the outcome is always the same when it cannot be dealt with rationally—the unleashing of anger and cruelty."

  "More philosophy?” asked Reese.

  Dimitri grinned sarcastically. “Living a long time and seeing much will lead to one form of philosophizing or another. I tend to think it is a form of escapism that one must do in order to avoid going insane.” Dimitri leaned forward in his chair bringing himself closer to Reese. “You must understand that concept—a man of education and one who lives in the past rather than the present. You must see the dangers that one must deal with—do you not?"

  Reese shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “My understanding is not relevant at this point. Finish what happened that night?"

  Dimitri sat back in his chair. His momentary grin turned into a sneer. “Oberman took his time. He made his enjoyment last for several hours and we each got to watch what he did to the other."

  Dimitri closed his eyes and drifted back into the memory...

  * * * *

  "Leave them there to die,” Oberman said. “We are done here."

  Krause looked at the bloodstained uniform of the officer with revulsion. The lieutenant's hands were covered with blood from the beatings and stabbings he had administered. Krause was glad he had dispersed the men into the surrounding area so they wouldn't see the grotesque undertakings of their commanding officer.

  Oberman used his canteen to wash his hands of the blood. He saw Krause was watching him with a look of disgust on his face.

&
nbsp; "You don't approve of me or my actions do you, Sergeant Krause?” he asked with indifference.

  "No,” Krause said, purposely not using the word “sir.” He continued, “You are cruel and you take it out on these men who are nothing but farmers. If word should get out, or if the bodies are found, it only makes for a harder occupation when there is bad blood from this kind of action."

  "Makes it harder?” Oberman said, incredulous. “What do you think this is ... a picnic? This is war, Sergeant Krause!” He threw the canteen he had been holding in his hands against the cave wall.

  "Even in war, Lieutenant Oberman, there is honor on the battlefield."

  "That's enough—"

  A scream erupted from the darkness, quickly followed by another; shattering the calm of the night. Gunfire sounded from another direction, which added to the confusion as to the direction of the attack; it appeared as if it was all around them.

  Oberman and Krause drew their weapons and took cover among the rocks as they scanned the area for signs of movement.

  "The men, where are they?” Oberman asked.

  "They took positions encircling this area. Nothing could have gotten past them,” Krause answered with confidence. His men were experienced. They would not succumb to irregular soldiers. Whatever it was that was killing them was not ordinary farmers.

  Another scream, punctuated by gurgling sounds. The sporadic gunshots continued from all directions. From the sounds, Krause knew what was happening to his men; they were being killed one by one. Eerie silence engulfed the two men. They looked at each other.

  "What do you think?” Oberman asked, his voice quavering with fear. Krause looked at him with disgust.

  "I think all the men are dead,” Krause said. “Just like we will be soon. I knew something was not right about this place. There is something evil here. My instincts, which you scoffed at, were right all along."

  "What are you talking about?” Oberman shouted at him.

  "I tried to tell you earlier but you wouldn't listen. At first I thought the bad feeling was just from you. But it's not. There is something else here. Something much worse."

  "You fool! Get hold of yourself!"