Dark Beginnings

CHARACTERS

Arunfelt, Hans (SS Commanding Officer London)

Drucker, Walter (SS Commanding Officer, Portsmouth & Hampshire)

Forbes, Anna (CNN reporter)

Halifax, Michael (SS Commanding Officer, Weymouth & Dorset)

Hurley, Elizabeth (Actress, model)

Iceberg (Reichsfuhrer of the SS)

James, Thomas (Chief Coroner, Aylesbury)

Klum, Heidi (Actress/model)

Krowther, Katharina (Wife of Mikhail)

Krowther, Kurt (Hero of The Reich, grandfather to Matthew)

Krowther, Matthew (SS Commanding Officer, Aylesbury & Bucks)

Krowther, Mikhail (Prisoner of the SS)

Mondeaux, Richard (Manager of Henri’s restaurant, Aylesbury)

Muncke, Manfred (SS Major, deputy commander Aylesbury & Bucks)

Muncke, Mary (Wife of Victor)

Muncke, Victor (SS officer)

Nacht, Wilhelm (SS Lieutenant Colonel, Aylesbury)

Prowse, Catherine (SS Auxiliary, Aylesbury)

Richardson, Alicia (Teacher, Aylesbury College)

Richardson, Nicholas (SS Lieutenant Colonel, Aylesbury, husband to Alicia)

Rudwig, Heinrich (Luftwaffe Commander, Aylesbury)

Schwarz, Karl (Army Commander of Aylesbury)

Schwarz, Katrina (Army private, daughter of Karl)

Strasbourg, Enrich (Fuhrer of Germany and the Reich)

Struber, Heinz Von (SS Major, Aylesbury)

Wenck (SS Commanding the Fuhrer bodyguard, Leibstandarte Enrich Strasbourg-LES)

Wilhelm, Joachim (Actor)

This series is the sequel series to The Last Enemy, the bigger novel that has set the scene for this series. This series does not portray political views but is my attempt to portray an alternate life. I have mentioned events between Nazi Germany and the USA, granted they might not have happened that way but who knows? The book is an attempt at an alternate history for this very decade so characters that exist in real-time have been modified to appear in this one.

Klaus P. Fischer from his novel Nazi Germany: A New History (Constable press 1995)

PROLOGUE

Prinz Albrectstrasse, Berlin

Nineteen Seventy- Seven

Colonel Mikhail Krowther raised his battered and bruised head as he heard the footsteps coming down the metal steps. It was dark in the lower levels of the SS headquarters in Berlin, the Gestapo was in greater numbers here and this was one of their cells. He recognised the voice from beatings and newsreels. “Mikhail Krowther.”

Reichsfuhrer-SS Iceberg pinched his trousers and knelt, he wore the black of the SS and commanded all of the SS. “Just answer me, did you plot to kill the Fuhrer?”

Iceberg nodded to someone in the darkness, he stood as the cell door was opened and creaked on rusty hinges. “It is time.”

Krowther tried resisting but he was weak, his uniform was soiled with sweat and human waste. His boots dragged on the stone floor; he was carried bodily up the steps. Krowther was deposited in a courtyard; the sky of his beloved Berlin was cloudy. “Stand!” shouted Iceberg.

Mikhail willed to stand but couldn’t. He was hauled up and placed against the wall, here he was released and he simply remained there. His navy blue eyes focused on the black clad SS firing squad all wearing armbands, the norm for today. “Aim!”

Mikhail worried for his wife and newborn child back in England, God no. The bullets broke him in half, he fell dead, blood scattered across the brick wall against darker older blood. Iceberg turned and walked away.

Aylesbury, Southeast England

October 17, 1977

Katharina Krowther cradled her month old baby against her chest in her Aylesbury home. As the baby fell asleep she picked up the telegram once more.

An anonymous message, it was not vague, her husband of five years was dead, son of Reich hero, Kurt Krowther. Presumably executed for treason against the Fuhrer. Katharina ran upstairs and quickly packed clothes and items. She gathered her baby in her arms and ran down the road, it was dark at the moment, to the home of Mary and Victor Muncke. She knocked on the door, would they come for her?

“Take him, raise him.” Katharina turned and ran off into the early morning mist. Mary looked after her friend, “She left him.”

Victor Muncke, wearing the black of the SS sighed, “Just heard from SS-HQ, Mikhail was executed for treason.”

Mary closed her eyes and looked down at the baby who was asleep, his eyes then opened, they were a dark navy blue. She would raise him as his name but as her son.

CHAPTER ONE

Brauchitsch Avenue, Aylesbury

November 2003

The doorbell rang again with more urgency; the figure in the bed upstairs turned over and swore. He slid out from beneath the blue duvet and padded downstairs. He opened the door, the cold seeping in. “About time! Come on lets get ready!” Sturmbannfuhrer –Major SS- Manfred Muncke stamped his jackboots on the front door mat.

“Alright.” Growled his friend, Standartenfuhrer –Colonel SS- Matthew Krowther, the commander of Aylesbury. What the title also meant was that he commanded all SS forces in Aylesbury and Buckinghamshire, he was officially known in overall command as County Commander (Bucks). Krowther walked upstairs leaving Muncke downstairs. Muncke sighed; his friend was working himself too hard. It was 4am and the two were heading for a meeting of county commanders in London. Muncke was twenty-five, born in Berlin, he was the son of SS Major, Victor Muncke and joined the SS when he was twenty.

Krowther was also twenty-six, also Berlin born, but the son of executed army officer Mikhail Krowther. Muncke’s parents had raised him, Krowther was a complex person. A man who drifted frequently into depression, he was quiet, he had a sense of humour and been known as well mannered towards women. Chivalry didn’t win you friends and after becoming a top student, went to university early when he was sixteen. Muncke came too and here Krowther learnt leadership skills and also joined the SS Britische Freikorps or BFK, the English translation was British Free Corps.

The BFK had been created as a wing of the Waffen-SS in 1944; originally it had twenty members, all British traitors, yet after the invasion and occupation of England in September 1945, grew in numbers. The first generation of members had joined due to lack of an armed forces and a desire to carry on life as normal. By the sixties the BFK had grown to become the nationwide police force relieving the main SS as an occupying force and also consisting of men born into a Nazi led society. The BFK had reached the point that it was almost an armed force, equal to that of the army, navy or air force. Krowther had joined, as his mother had been British despite having a German sounding name. His father was German; Krowther could’ve joined the regular SS but chose the BFK. By the age of twenty-two he had reached the rank of Major in the BFK at Aylesbury. However, in early 2003 he had to assume overall command due to the then commander being involved in a sex scandal with a female labourer. Krowther was young but quickly proved to his peers, especially the Reichsfuhrer, that he was able for the job and had made Aylesbury into the third best BFK section.

Krowther walked back down, he wore the BFK uniform, generally the SS uniform but instead of crooked SS runes, had three lions and on his left sleeve around the waist an armband reading Britische Freikorps and above that a British Union Jack. The flag of the BFK was either a British flag with black SS runes across it or a Union Jack with a swastika central, essentially a normal Nazi flag but instead of red, an Union Jack.

The two officers stepped into the dark cold; sunrise was not for another two hours and began their trek into the centre of town. Aylesbury had been a very small town when four German troops entered in September 1945. In the mid nineteen fifties the Germans based an airfield nearby, out near the Mandeville land. As the airfield became the home of the air group covering Great Britain, so did Aylesbury. Its population was shy of one million; this included the small provinces of Stoke Mandeville, Wendover and the two Kimble’s. The town had been largely a Luftwaffe town due to the field but also to the Wehrmacht and SS, more to the point, the SS-BFK. Friction between the SS and Army had been going on since the nineteen thirties and hadn’t slackened here, although Krowther had tried to ease the gap. Aylesbury was an important town with High Wycombe acting as a satellite almost, it too had Luftwaffe status.

They left the expensive avenue, named after Walter Von Brauchitsch the commander of the Army until 1945. They remained quiet, even Muncke could fall silent at 4am. They eventually walked down the dual Autobahn that started at a roundabout on Exchange Street and ended up near the duck pond. Aylesbury like most places occupied by the Germans had retained some names in English. From here they could hear the sounds of the station, links here to London in the southeast and the northwest as well as the south coast. Muncke coughed and chuckled, “Bloody conferences.”

Just before 0455 they walked into the station, it had four platforms, two between the station and outboard platform and two either side of singular platforms. Krowther walked into the small café and brought an Aylesbury Zeitung the Nazi paper, what else was there?

“Interesting news colonel.” Said the café owner recognising one of the most important people in Aylesbury if not the most important person in the town and county.

“Hmm.” Muttered Krowther, the headline was screaming about another car bomb by American influenced students in Stuttgart. Since the sixties, some students had tried to go the way of their American counterparts. Mostly with little success, those that failed were seen hanging upside down by their piano wire bound feet and with a sign declaring I BETRAYED THE FATHERLAND.

The train was sleek, a sloping front and painted mainly in white but with swastika banner decked doors, a black skirt and black roof with GERMAN RAIL on its sides. They boarded the comfortable train and found some seats, Krowther hated to travel, he had an anxiety problem since birth, most likely due to the fact his parents had disappeared when he was a baby. Muncke stretched beside him and began dozing. Krowther didn’t.

Marylebone still remained a bustling station, however vehicles were no longer allowed inside and up onto the platform. Marylebone had been extended from four platforms to six platforms in 1998 to allow freight trains to operate, only then could vehicles use the platform. Krowther and Muncke being the commanding officer and deputy commanding officer Aylesbury & Bucks were passed through without hesitation. The sound of dozens of feet walking on the marble like floor echoed into the top of the station. Once outside Krowther inhaled, “London.”

Here London was a lot busier then Aylesbury, despite its population, Aylesbury suddenly seemed to pale against London. The meeting was in Euston; this too was home to a busy railway station with links to the north and Wales. They entered the regal looking building beside the station and were met by a SS lieutenant. “Mein Herren?”

They were soon inside the large conference room; a long table surrounded by chairs dominated the room. There was also a table with drinks on. No one was sitting; here were the main SS men in England. If a terrorist was to blow this place up…

Some of the others noticed him, some didn’t like him thinking him a hybrid and too un-Aryan to be wearing a SS uniform and especially the rank of colonel. All the commanders were colonels; three had brought their deputies. Here’s where the ranking system in Britain gets tricky. Each town has a SS commander, however the capital of the county (as Aylesbury is for Bucks) is commanded by the highest-ranking officer (e.g a colonel) who in turn commands the whole county. The county commanders are deputy to the commanding officer of London, currently a colonel just shy of being a general. The CO of London has jurisdiction over the County Commanders of England, Wales and Scotland; the latter two countries have the same principles as England. There are four sub-commanders of London, for the Northwest, Northeast, Southeast and Southwest. The sub-commanders are equal to the County Commanders and normally a Major or a Colonel. The CO of London reports in turn to the commanding officer of SS forces of Britain.

Finally, since the sixties, Britain and the occupied countries have been integrated into Germany, so technically Britain is in West Germany; the various countries such as France and Holland are mere states of Germany. After all it is the Greater German Reich.

Standartenfuhrer Walter Drucker was the commanding officer of Hampshire and was in the running to be the new commander of London, therefore the second ranking SS man in Britain. Drucker disliked Krowther such intensity, yet Krowther largely ignored it. Drucker sat opposite Krowther at this moment. The meeting began with County Commander updating the CO- London and the others on the latest developments.

Krowther shifted his papers somewhat, “Mein Herren, Aylesbury is still as it was two months ago. Developments are that we are preparing in earnest for the Fuhrer’s visit in December before Christmas, we have snow equipment ready and are beginning preparations to enforce the town.”

The CO of London, Hans Arunfelt sighed, “Walter stop this at once, by bickering constantly you are ruining your chances of ascending to my post.”

“Who is in the running sir?” asked Muncke taking chance of Drucker’s embarrassment. Arunfelt was in his sixties and looking forward to retiring in his native France. He wore the tricolour emblem and had only accepted this post as a means of promotion. “Drucker.”

Krowther and Muncke as well as a few others left the room to stand outside, Krowther walked to a large window and perched himself on it as Muncke leant against the wall. “Damn who’d thought I was in the running, I’ve been only been Aylesbury CO for two years.”

Heinz was Sturmbannfuhrer Heinz Von Struber IV, a man whose grandfather aboard the battleship Tirpitz watched Tom Whitton ask the British to surrender. Struber was a close friend and tackled areas of the county that his friends could not. He was in university with Manfred and Matthew, the Double M Team as they were nicknamed due to pranks and such like. Struber was their age but acted far older than twenty-six. Muncke nodded, “I see.”

Someone approached, he was tall, had blonde hair and startling blue eyes. A more lively blue then Krowther’s dark navy blue eyes that reflected nothing from inside.

“Congratulations for facing off Drucker.” Standartenfuhrer Michael Halifax Commanding Officer of Weymouth and Dorset.

“Poor. She might not see Christmas; Arunfelt has cleared me for leave in Berlin. She was born there and hasn’t been since we married.”

Rachel Halifax, the wife of Michael, had been struck by a severe flu that had swept in from Norway just this year. The bug had already killed dozens and few had survived. Rachel had not recovered despite the record heat this year. Krowther, Muncke and two other County Commander’s had attended their wedding in 2000. A damn shame.

The meeting plodded along, by now discussing matters of state such as the continuing process to establish a better relationship with the USA. In nineteen forty-five, after weeks of waiting, Hitler ordered the newly created First Amerlikaluftgruppe –ALG- to bomb New York. After the raid, Truman did not give in, more raids this time including the Second and Third ALG’s bombed New York, Washington and Boston. Still the US did not bow and finally a He177 dropped a nuclear bomb on Washington. Truman had been in Nova Scotia and was stunned enough to sign a treaty in Zurich. The Zurich Treaty may have ended World War II but had started the Cold War. A tense nuclear standoff between the two major powers. American influence was kept out excellently by the Nazis and the material that had appeared in colleges and universities had conveniently ‘leaked’ from American consulates across the Reich. (Due to the fact that the occupied lands are German states they only have consulates). In the fifties, Japan, a cowed country after America’s defeat of them and gradual rebuilding, began to give up land in China and Korea. Chiang Kai-Shek’s democrats who mercilessly and without remorse, eradicated the communists had won the Chinese Civil War. America may control them but in Korea, fascist rebels believing to learn from Germany’s victory of WWII surfaced. Hitler sensing an opportunity to have one more piece of real estate began supplying weapons to the fascist rebels who were all Koreans. The Japanese troops in Korea did not have any arms, as in 1947 by order of the USA had destroyed them all, the formerly occupied Koreans were similarly unarmed and so in 1954 the rebels drove the Japanese south and held from the Chinese border to the thirty-eighth parallel. The Japanese turned to the Americans for help and in a tense moment, President Dwight D. Eisenhower agreed to help. If they won, then the Japanese might return to occupying Korea. Yet the Japanese weren’t armed and a small force of US troops began landing in Korea. At first the Americans were winning then Hitler began sending in SS Special Forces to aid the rebels. America didn’t realise they were fighting a German trained force until a SS officer was killed and his body found. A war almost started there and then but what happened instead from 1955 to 1956 was a war fought physically by the Rebels and Japanese but secretly by the Germans and Americans. In nineteen fifty-six with the two sides at loggerheads at the parallel, a treaty was signed. The rebels, who had grown by having the entire population of the north join, were recognised as the Korean Republic or North Korea. The south with a Japanese government, the People’s Republic of Korea or South Korea. With the whole Korean situation simmering down the Cold War went on, espionage replaced war and in both major oceans, the two navies tailed each other. With the death of Hitler and the ascension of Strasbourg, relations began improving and an unofficial end to the Cold War came about towards the end of the eighties. Items like Coca-Cola and Dr Pepper began appearing in the Reich, this in itself was fine, after all it was only drink and at that advertised by Germans. But no TV or literature from America. A trade relations began, certain cars appeared and items like TV’s and radios. As a result the Reich continued to flourish.

Arunfelt took in all his officers; these men all aged between twenty-five and fifty were like children, his charges looking to him for support. He smiled warmly, “Not too bad, it’s about time anyway.”

“Maybe so sir, but we have the Fuhrer visit soon. When will they come?” Krowther asked.

Arunfelt closed his file, “Mein Herren thank you for attending, the next meeting will be in January. Dismissed.”

Once outside, Krowther and Muncke headed straight for the rail station and by 1200 were well on their way home.

Alicia Richardson left the college walking towards her car. The statue of Heinrich Himmler stared down the grass reservation towards the main road. Alicia wore a red scarf around her throat, above a brown woollen jacket and blue jeans. She fumbled with her keys whilst balancing her history books under her left arm. Her breath came out in mist, as a teacher she should be better organised. Despite it being Saturday, she had to teach some students, Strasbourg Youth with no free time in the week.

She dumped her books about the major battles from Poland to Britain right on the road; she stamped her feet and smiled. Found the keys. She slotted them home; she piled the books into the passenger’s seat of her black Volkswagen Beetle from 1969. Besides being black it had silver bumpers and alloys as well as cream tyres. Alicia shut the door and started the engine, before reversing she wiped the windscreen clear and stared outside. Bye, Bye College. Damn place was annoying. The college had been built immediately after the war’s end and initially the students had been junior Luftwaffe men but had grown to become one of the higher colleges in the country. Alicia reversed and headed to the main road, Oxford Road or Oxford Strasse as the Germans called it, before long she was driving into the town. It was funny, after nearly sixty years of occupation many people born to British parents in turn themselves from British parents still thought themselves as British despite the fact that Britain was now part of Germany. The mailing address after the house was always Aylesbury, Bucks, England, West Germany. The whole damn thing was confusing thought Alicia. The way it seemingly worked was if that you descended from fully British parents during WWII then you were British. Yet their glorious colonel had been born from a British mother and German father. His mother had a fully British couple as her parents and his father a fully German couple as his. She shrugged turning into Markt Square and parking in the large underground car park beneath the shopping centre. Emerging top side she glanced at the floodlit SS-Headquarters. The SS-HQ was situated in the old courts building and had a grand view of the square. Two British WWII searchlights were angled up the front of the building, casting a swastika alight and into the night sky. As she walked that way she saw two black clad figures walk up the steps. Krowther and his friend Muncke. Alicia walked on by, down the side by the block of elegant flats and towards the Heini restaurant situated in the same building as the cinema, currently showing the Joachim Wilhelm war epic, Battle of London.

Alicia spied who she was looking for by the bar and walked that way. Obersturmbannfuhrer –SS lieutenant colonel- Nicholas Richardson and Alicia’s husband stood to kiss her on the cheek.

“So-so.” Richardson was a BFK officer, wasn’t everyone here? He was also in Major Struber’s department, grisly murders and all that. Also present was Richardson’s friend and fellow lieutenant colonel, Wilhelm Nacht. Nacht was a German, transferred in from Dortmund to assist with affairs of the county. And finally there was Catherine ‘Cathy’ Prowse, a SS auxiliary who worked as a secretary and admin officer. Alicia sat down, “Whiskey.”

“The visit of our Fuhrer.” Nacht whispered, only a few knew. “He is coming straight from Berlin.”

“He’s chosen our beloved town.” Richardson smiled thinly. Cathy nodded gently.

Alicia almost choked, she had known these people since school and knew their very mannerisms.

“Hush.” Richardson said, no one had heard. He leant close, “Yes we are.”

Iceberg had his eyes on the throne for a while, Alicia knew, but she thought he’d wait for him to die.

“For ES to turn over?” Wilhelm snorted, “We can’t wait. If ES dies in an assassination then Iceberg can become leader and deal with the Americans whilst all the while looking like a saviour.”

She got up and stormed out, her mind was whirling. She felt a hand grab her and she angrily struck out, “Leave me alone!”

She turned looking up to see the dimly lit face of Major Manfred Muncke, golly she felt dizzy. “Herr Sturmbannfuhrer.”

“Certainly.” He held out his arm. Ten minutes later she was home, Muncke walked off and for once she was thankful for Muncke. She locked her door and made it into the bathroom to vomit. After rinsing her mouth out she cried, what should she do?

Muncke gently escorted the prisoner into the interrogation room of the BFK floor and left. Despite the prominence of the BFK, the other factions of the SS had room here in the SS-HQ. The BFK had the top floor; this included the floor across the arch. At the end of the floor overlooking the square was Krowther’s office, before that his secretary, next to her the stairwell exit opposite that Muncke’s office. Then you had two more offices, the interrogation room and officers mess. Muncke dipped his head inside Struber’s office; Struber placed a hand over his phone, “Ja?”

Muncke walked up to Matthew’s secretary, Nancy, “Where is your boss?”
“Good morning to you too. Home.”

Muncke turned on his heels and entered his office; the windows were to his left not across the main wall. He picked up his phone and dialled the familiar number.

Muncke hung up; he would work to the wee hours. Poor bastard. At 0815 a harried looking Krowther appeared at the top of the stairs. “You look like crap.”

Krowther tugged at his leather gloves as he entered the room and stopped, the woman in the chair turned to face him. “Colonel, about bloody time.”

Elizabeth Hurley, model and actress, a love interest in at least four Joachim Wilhelm movies. Krowther tossed his gloves onto the table, “What is she doing here?”

“You?” Krowther almost chuckled. Hurley folded her arms and did not look happy, Krowther faced Muncke. “Explain.”

Muncke leant against the doorframe arms folded, he spoke in rapid German. “She was filming with Heidi Klum and they got into a scruff, she knocked Heidi about a bit.”

“Damn.” Krowther knew Heidi from university and wasn’t surprised she had provoked Hurley.

“That required five stitches.” Krowther said reading a sheet just given to him by Muncke. Krowther sat in the chair opposite and took off his cap. “What did Heidi say?”

“Nein.” Krowther said curtly, he despised smoking, considering it a quicker form of death. Hurley blinked and regarded him with her blue eyes, “Short this morning.”

“Bitte!” snapped Krowther, “I work long hours, I’m up to here with a special event and the last thing I need is a smart mouthed actress.”

Muncke didn’t change expression and knew inwardly that his friend was unravelling from lack of sleep and long hours. But also that…that his friend was depressed, what he needed was a lady friend. Yet his track record was poor if not admirable, Heidi Klum had been a passing encounter in Berlin a year after graduating and then there was Casey Winter, the American consulate reporter and finally Lindsay Davenport who had left one night and next wrote from Switzerland. Krowther exhaled, “Apologies, look. I shall let you go.”

“Nein.” Muncke answered. The two officers watched her stand tugging on a jacket, “If you don’t mind, Joachim awaits.”

With that she was gone; Muncke watched her leave and shook his head. “Joachim Wilhelm.”

Wilhelm was Muncke’s idle, ever since university when Muncke dragged Krowther and Struber to see U555 the story of a U-Boat assigned to blockade the East Coast. Muncke turned inwards again, his friend was hunched over the table, his face pale, his hair matted. “You okay?”

“Look, go into your office, lie on the couch and sleep. I’ll take care of things.”

“Danke.” Matthew said. A few seconds later Muncke closed the office door and sighed again. Muncke heard someone coming up the stairs, a woman in admin but wearing army grey. She had long blonde hair, partially black and was tall. Army issue trousers covered her legs and she wore the rank Gefreiter, private first class, she carried a sheet of paper. “Heil, I need to see Colonel Krowther.”

Was it Muncke or did Schwarz blush slightly, whatever the case, Krowther was too tired to notice.

Katrina Schwarz turned and exited. She was the twenty-five year-old daughter of Aylesbury’s Army Commander, Generalmajor Karl Schwarz. She also had an enormous crush on the SS colonel. It had started in September 2001 when Krowther had stood on the steps for photos of his ascension to command of Aylesbury and Bucks. She had been standing with her father, he had the traditional dislike for the SS but she had fallen for Krowther. Her parents did not know and if they did, then she would be deported home to Berlin where she, like Krowther, was born. Two newspaper clippings Krowther and a SS-BFK recruiting poster of him before the banner decorated one wall. She didn’t obsess but had the kind of crush that many people had.

Enrich Strasbourg, Fuhrer of the Grosse Deutsche Reich, heard his Reichsfuhrer enter the living area he had inside the chancellery. Strasbourg was currently fifty-eight and having becoming Fuhrer at thirty, was young for his post. Strasbourg had been Reichsfuhrer after succeeding Himmler in early 1975, with no Heydrich, Strasbourg had risen steadily through the SS ranks. Two months after Strasbourg had become RF-SS, Hitler died and Strasbourg seized the moment. Nobody had minded for Strasbourg had been widely respected. The SS were pleased that they had one of their own as the Fuhrer and the army had to stick it.

“Mein Fuhrer, Aylesbury SS has completed their update. Ahead of schedule.”

Iceberg watched his Fuhrer intently. Iceberg wanted the position of Fuhrer more and more everyday, especially since the Fuhrer had become lax concerning America. Iceberg was fifty, the most sinister SS officer since Heydrich in terms of violence. He raced through the SS rankings and became RF-SS in 1985. His first act as RF-SS was to execute Mikhail Krowther, someone who was going to blow the lid on Iceberg’s massacre of a training group of SS cadets in the land formerly known as Russia. Iceberg pinned a charge of treason on Mikhail. Iceberg also had a reputation with women, a good one, even at his age he had blonde hair and dull green eyes.

Even Iceberg couldn’t deny that, “Yes sir. Shall I prepare the train sir?”

The BMW 750 was sleek and black, atop its roof it had a blue siren array, on its front doors were a crest with SS in gold gothic. Krowther and Muncke climbed out, near the stream that lined the bottom of the Rye Park in Wycombe, was a series of tents. They set off, the skies blue and the air cold. “My first film set.”

“Muncke for god sake’s keep calm.” Krowther said quietly. Krowther stepped over a rope and called, “Hello?”

Elizabeth Hurley emerged from behind a marquee, “Colonel Krowther and Major Muncke!”

“Frauline Hurley.” Krowther said bowing curtly and clicking his boots together. “Is Heidi about?”

Krowther jabbed Muncke in the chest and headed that way. Heidi Klum was German and a few years older then her friends. She didn’t look all that different and was known to knock beers as well as anyone on October Fest. She waved and met them by the stream, “Matthew and Manfred, so good to see you.” She embraced both and Krowther smiled, “Long time Heidi.”

Muncke slipped by, “Herr Wilhelm.”
Joachim Wilhelm, Germany’s biggest actor turned to Muncke. “Yes major?”

Heidi and Krowther exchanged an amused glance then Heidi said, “Lets get dinner.”

The student wearing a Strasbourg Youth uniform stood, “The army pushed down from the north and from the south, surrounding the city and beginning a siege.”

Alicia nodded, pleased with her student. She tapped the board where a map of Stalingrad had been pinned. “Thank you Fox.”

She checked her watch, “That’s all for today, research the invasion of Britain for next week.”

Alicia collected her books and began walking downstairs, and there outside by her car stood Nicholas. She hadn’t seen him since when he told her of what he was going to do. Married they might be, but Nicholas had nightshift sometimes and this was one of these times. She took a deep breath and stepped outside, by now light rain had began to fall. Snow was predicted for tonight.

He gripped her arm, so strong and it felt as if her arm would break. She fortunately still held onto her books. “You are coming with me, if you tell someone about our plans then you will die.”

“For a start, you know me well enough that I wouldn’t tell and secondly, how dare you threaten me! I’m your wife.”

Nicholas smiled arrogantly, “I am putting you in a house, and you will stay until Strasbourg is dead.

He began pushing her into her nearby VW but she kicked out, this time she dumped her books and ran. He swore and chased after her drawing her Luger; he followed her out onto the brook side path. Yet when he got there, she was gone. He swore once more.

Alicia had jumped into the brook, fortunately the water was only a centimetre deep and so she squatted. Her eyes above the bank, she waited until Nicholas returned inside. Then she climbed up and ran. Once inside town, she walked to SS-HQ. Once upstairs she walked right and stopped quickly at a desk before a red haired woman.

Nancy looked sympathetic and realised that something was wrong, “Please wait in his office, I will call him.”

Krowther and Muncke dropped Heidi back at the set and were joining the Wycombe to Aylesbury road as the sky darkened more. The windscreen wipers dragged quickly across the windscreen clearing the gathering rain.

Muncke picked up the digital radio, “Four-Seven-Nine here, pass your message.”

Nancy’s voice was next, “Colonel, Alicia Richardson is waiting in your office. She is shaken bad and appears to want to talk to you urgently.”

“Nicholas’ wife?” Krowther asked, Muncke nodded and clicked the radio. “Keep her occupied, we’re on route. ETA at least twenty minutes.”

Krowther frowned; he pressed the accelerator down, the speed dial held at 110mph. “Hit the blues. Damn rain.”

Due to the rain, the two officers were late; they left the BMW in the SS car park at the rear of the courts with an entrance onto the road leading to the cinema. They ran up the stairs, passing Nancy Krowther said crisply, “No interruptions even if it is Schwarz.”

Alicia remained seated on the sofa by the door and opposite the desk. Krowther sat behind his desk and Muncke sat in the chair before the desk, turning it around.

Alicia sat on the edge of the sofa clutching a coffee mug, the coffee long since cold. “Nicholas is trying to kill me.”

Muncke sighed, best not to be impatient. Alicia sighed, “He’s planning to kill the Fuhrer.”

Krowther almost fell of his chair as he had been leaning back. “Shit.” He stood and walked round the desk past the swastika flag in one corner and the TV still on the 24-hour news service. “Is he the only one?”
”Nacht and Prowse.”

“Oh Nicholas.” Said Alicia her answer dripping with content. Krowther sighed, “So close to the day as well.”

He took the colonel aside, whispering, “Look, lets put Alicia somewhere safe until the day and let Nicholas try, we’ll be waiting.”

Muncke told Alicia; at first Alicia was not happy either but then was swayed. Muncke would be her bodyguard, staying at his place until December 8.

Krowther watched one of the London trains leave and turned to the stationmaster who wore a green uniform, “From now on the station will be ran by my people, klar?”

Muncke walked through the side gate onto platform one where Krowther stood, “Ja?”

“Gut.” Krowther turned and faced the station as a whole, “Start bringing the men here, there will be men here all night until the night the Fuhrer leaves.”

“Do you want people on the two bridges, the one up by the college, one by the dual road?”

Krowther looked at the nearby Schwarzkopf perfume manufacturing building right next to the station that too would be watched closely.

In the next two days, the SS preparations increased, during the night fifty BFK officers were on all four platforms. Checkpoints were erected on the road running by the front of the station and inside the station. Anti-aircraft rocket batteries were brought in from the nearby Luftwaffe base and erected on platform one, the longest and atop the Schwarzkopf building. Two tanks were brought in, army, Schwarz insisted. Krowther personally organised the defences and brought in a dozen more men from Wycombe and Milton Keynes.

With the hours ticking by until Strasbourg’s arrival, his train was already in transit to its stopover at Calais, Krowther could only wait. Sitting in his dark office with only the TV as illumination he answered his phone before it really got going. “Ja?”

Wearing yellow collar tabs and a blue uniform, the CO of the Luftwaffe base in Aylesbury entered. Heinrich Rudwig was a tall imposing character, just two inches taller than Krowther, he was twenty-seven, another sign that no matter what age you were in this Reich you could achieve anything.

Krowther sighed and got up, for the past day it had been snowing and being Aylesbury, the snow would begin to harden and settle. Strasbourg was only here a day thank god. Krowther turned everything off and walked out, nightshift was on now and would be until 0700. The shifts were loosely matched to the hours of day and night. A skeleton few would be here on Christmas Day. Krowther walked past the Gestapo floor; sometimes you could hear interrogations from beneath the cafeteria. If you walked by the SS-HQ, on the ground level literally are windows, they look as if they are on the floor. These are the windows into the café that caters for all the personnel of the SS-HQ. It was closed between 0200 and 0700, no chance of a snack then. Leaving the headquarters he could see Rudwig, still walking towards the station. The square was coated with white, like icing upon a cake. Krowther checked the luminous hands of his Swiss watch, 0520, need coffee. Krowther despite working hard and long hours had the amazing ability –to him anyway- to sleep for four or so hours and wake to be alert within minutes. He could kip in his office. He trudged up Consulate Row. Market Square is not heavily surrounded by buildings, but enough to be called a square. A road ran along the south –SS-HQ was normally deemed south of the square- and up the east side exiting at the northeast corner. The shopping centre dominated the west side diagonally, starting across the road in the southwest and ending in the northwest, bordering on north. Across the north and going on to the west are old buildings pre-WWII, a few are Tudor. Central to the square is an old Clocktower from long ago; they used to hang people from it. More recently, resistance members had been shot against it. That was WWII though. Yet going down the east side are the consulates of Canada, America, China and Japan. Aylesbury was big enough to garner four consulates; these four countries were the other big people. Casey Winter had worked in the US consulate, Krowther remembered fondly. She left within a few weeks of course. Their flags hung limply and frozen in the cold from the second floors, the living floors and cast a gloom over the quiet colonel. Krowther reached the northeast corner, where the road off the square connects to a road that leads onto Kingsbury Square. On the corner opposite Lloyd’s Bank, the name was kept for some obscure reason, is a round shaped building on the end of a long row of buildings. This old building is Wehrmacht HQ or Army HQ. Wehrmacht is actually Armed Forces but also doubles as the name for the army. Krowther was walking to the right of this building when he spotted Generalmajor Karl Schwarz exit it.

Normally and for many years, SS officers and men did not normally affix Herr before army men’s titles or anyone else for that matter. Krowther was the exception, after all he thought, his grandfather was an army officer and so was his father. Schwarz was white haired and fifty, he had been twenty-five and serving in North Korea when his wife had their only child, Katrina. Karl despite his professional dislike of Krowther was a fine officer and could see that Krowther was too.

Karl smiled, “Excellent, I’m placing four of my men on the platform when the Fuhrer gets off, is this fine?”
Krowther nodded slightly, “As long as they have been cleared.”

The day dawned with news to the SS-HQ and passed on to Luftwaffe HQ, Army HQ and Aylesbury rail station that the snow had been bad in Calais and that the Fuhrer’s arrival was now 0900 tomorrow. Just one more day.

Muncke was glad that Krowther had allowed a few extra hours off this morning, this he reflected as he made a fried breakfast. Goring Way was an expansive estate area the other side of town near Aylesbury College in fact. It wasn’t Brauchitsch Avenue but was good enough for the deputy CO of Aylesbury & Bucks. He wore his black SS trousers, jackboots, and gun belt complete with Luger and his brownshirt complete with black tie. His arm-banded tunic was draped precariously over a table chair in the large kitchen. A picture of a bemused Strasbourg glanced down upon the kitchen. Alicia entered; she stretched her arms above her head. “Morning, something smells nice.”

“No college?” Muncke said flipping bacon up and watching it land in crackling fat. Thank god for Berlin University. Alicia wore jeans and a sweater, slouching into a chair at the table and sipping from orange juice poured earlier by Muncke. “Nein Sturmbannfuhrer.”

Since moving into protective custody, Alicia had not heard much if nothing from either of the conspirators. Judging from what Muncke had told her, they had gone underground, maybe even back to Der Vaterland. She didn’t care anymore, she thought, Nicholas could get –

“Krowther is an inspiration.” Muncke said quietly, “In university he swam across the Spree naked and in winter.”
Alicia swore, “Christ.”

“I was with him, boy, every time it gets really cold. I remember the Spree.”

He turned and delivered the meal to her, he sat in the chair by his tunic. “Enjoy.”

After the meal, he dropped the plates in to soak when the wall phone rang. He picked it up, “Muncke.”

“Message from OKW sir. Fuhrer’s train delayed until tomorrow morning at 0900.”

Muncke turned just as Alicia squeezed by to go into the hall; he stared after her and shook his head, “Careful Manfred, careful.”

Krowther rested his boots on his desk and leaned back, closing his eyes to enjoy the music of Wagner. Not something he had acquired from doctrine, he loved the music since a child when Victor Muncke played it at home and in an orchestra. It wasn’t loud but it did vibrate the photo of Heidi he had on his desk. Serious it was for a few months, now they were friends. That was good.

The door swung open and an amused upper class British accent said, “Enjoying yourself?”

Krowther swung his boots off and jabbed the stop button on his computer, the room fell silent.

Elizabeth Hurley smiled, more of a smirk really and settled into a chair opposite. The door had swung close. Her long brown hair was sprayed across her shoulders, both before and behind her shoulders. She wore a blue t-shirt and a jacket over it with BATTLE OF ENGLAND on the left breast, the film detailing the invasion and occupation. She wore faded blue jeans seemed the advertisement of calm.

She leant forward and gazed into his eyes, “Dinner, for an hour? Nothing more.”

He collected his tunic and did it up; he placed the cap atop his head and held the door for her. Treat women well and they will treat you well Kurt Krowther had once told his young grandson. Matthew had worshipped his grandfather, the only child his age who would enjoy Kurt’s honest and sometimes bloody recounts of the war, particularly the climbing of the cliffs and enjoy feeling the battered old flag that Kurt still had after all these years. Leaving the HQ, Krowther led Hurley onto the square. The snow had stopped but the sky was still dark and the snow still covering the town. His uniform parted some crowds like the red sea and gained him respect without asking for it. He cared little for people’s views of him, let them talk, he was a colonel. He rarely used his high position to his personal views and many who had bullied him, still lived. They walked northeast of the square and on the bottom of Kingsbury Square, facing Wehrmacht HQ, was a French restaurant. Henri’s, what else?

Krowther led her inside and was met by Richard –pronounced Ree-shard- Mondeaux. Mondeaux and Krowther went back until Krowther’s ascension to command of Aylesbury. Mondeaux had been a French-SS cadet and when the unit came to train in the county he deserted. Krowther tracked him down and found him cowering near the canal. He befriended the frightened Frenchman and eventually got him to SS-HQ. There he contacted the unit commander, officially disbanding Mondeaux from the unit and placing him as the manager of Henri’s, the restaurant had been poor then and now was Aylesbury’s top restaurant.

Richard led them to a window table, looking onto Market Square and the row of buildings starting with Wehrmacht HQ. Hurley’s jacket was taking as was Krowther’s tunic and placed on an elegant looking coast stand in a corner. Black and white glossy photos of Paris adorned the walls. One was of Hitler standing before the Eiffel Tower in June 1940. Hurley clasped her hands before her and rested her elbows on the table, “You seem to know everyone in this town Colonel.”

“Not all of them, but it pays to know people. They can be allies in times of need.”

Hurley leant back as Richard took the orders; Krowther ordered a filling salad meal. It was still early.

He shrugged, “It helps to stay in some shape, like yourself.” His face paled, “Mein Gott, apologies that sounded,” he stopped, “Sorry.”

The meal came and he began eating, he felt self-conscious now and had to say something else.

She snapped a piece of celery delicately with her forefingers, “A WWII love story in a German field hospital in Wycombe. We’re all nurses, except Joachim.”

That ended the discussion. At 1300 they left, Hurley suggested a return to his place. “Won’t hurt.”

The clearance was almost done, all passengers of the train were to return, so far they would still be there for 0900 tomorrow.

Hurley dumped her jacket down as Krowther went to get coffee. The living room was spacious, light blue walls, dark blue skirting and a cross between the shades for the furniture. Three pictures adorned the walls, one of a soldier raising a flag, another of Hitler and the same soldier and finally Strasbourg.

Krowther was coming in and settled the coffee on the coffee table, “The first two are of my grandfather, Hero of the Reich.”

Krowther sat on a different sofa to Hurley; he had two and one armchair. This house had been the previous commander; it was passed on to the different commanders. “Thank you for the coffee.” She said standing half an hour later, she walked towards the door and then leant down to kiss him on the lips. He was shocked and said, “Bitte, no.”

“This is Colonel Wenck, commanding officer of the Fuhrer’s bodyguard, where is your CO?”

“Standartenfuhrer Krowther is out organising preparations colonel.” Struber told the bodyguard leader, “I am Sturmbannfuhrer Struber.”

“I know, this is to inform you that we are waiting here during the night. The snow has been cleared but we’ll wait until the early morning. ETA will still be 0900 tomorrow.” With that Wenck hung up. Struber leant forward in his chair, still holding the receiver. He dialled a number, “Muncke.”

Muncke was lying on his side in his bed talking into the phone, “You mean the Fuhrer?”

A female hand appeared over his shoulder and stroked his chin; he didn’t try to stop it. “Thanks Heinz, phone Matthew.”

Muncke turned over to face Alicia Richardson, after breakfast things had led to this inevitable climax. They had been getting close over the past few days and it had ended up here. He stroked Alicia’s copper red hair, “This is wrong.”

“This is adultery, the penalty can be severe.” He was not kidding; granted women were encouraged to grow offspring for the future of the Reich but not necessarily like this. “No one has to know and besides, I can divorce Nicholas, that’s not wrong.”

Alicia huddled closer, “The future.”
Muncke didn’t answer, his mind now elsewhere.

Krowther settled the black phone back on the bedside cradle. It was a scene not unlike Muncke and Alicia, except; his bed was a bluer colour. Not that made a difference. The duvet was pulled halfway up and beside him laid Hurley. If someone had told him when he became CO of Aylesbury that he’d end up with her, he would have laughed. “Who was that?”

She hoisted herself up her long hair brushing past her shoulders and touching him, “When do you have to go?”

On the very middle of the bridge was a checkpoint barrier, either side were wooden pillboxes that the two soldiers working here, stood in from the cold. Traffic was decreasing due to a renewed increase of the snow. The two soldiers were Army men; they had taken over from two BFK men. Their grey BMW jeep was parked on the curb behind the school side pillbox. Two figures in black appeared from the school approach out of the falling snow. “Halt.”

Wilhelm Nacht drew a silenced Luger and fired, he killed the first soldier outright and then the second one. Together the two SS men dragged the bodies towards the bank down towards the railway track. Then they climbed into the BMW and drove off into town. An hour later, Struber arrived in a BMW 750 squad car with a lieutenant. “Where are Schwarz’s men?”

Getting out he noticed both boxes were empty and that there was no jeep, the lieutenant called: “Sturmbannfuhrer!”

Struber hurried to the bridge side looking out towards the Chilterns; in the faint light from the streetlights he could see two bodies. Both wore the steel helmets of army soldiers, their bodies lightly covered in soft snow. “Christ, get down there quick!”

Struber jogged to the 750, he leant in and took the radio, and “This is Major Struber, ambulance and crime scene units to SMH Bridge now- code one and get the colonel!”

Richardson stopped the army jeep behind the Schwarzkopf building by a brook that ran behind the building onto the Oxford Road and beyond. He then reached in and turned the steering wheel, together he and Nacht pushed the jeep around. After this, they collected the rifles and grenades from the rear and pushed the jeep into the overflowing brook. It didn’t submerge but the overgrowing tree over the brook covered it well. Richardson and Nacht slipped into a rear entrance, the building had been empty since the sixties. From the forties to the sixties, the goings on inside the building had been classified. You could only speculate. At either end of the six hundred foot long building were steel stairs leading to a balcony inside the building but also to the roof. Richardson and Nacht emerged from the stairwell cover and glanced around. They wore their black commando uniforms, no sign of any guards. Of course, they would come tomorrow morning. They took their time setting up and then drank coffee. German coffee.

All trains out of Aylesbury to London via Wycombe had been cancelled. This enabled the CSU to put a white tent up over the tracks where the bodies lay. Floodlights from SS-HQ had been brought in and lit the bridge and tracks immediately near the bridge like day. Flashing blue lights flickered all over the bridge. Muncke was talking to Schwarz when he saw a 750 approach, “One moment Major-General.”

Muncke walked towards the BMW 750 as it stopped on the hospital approach, Krowther got out, he wore the long woollen trench coat preferred by many in this weather. “Well?”

Krowther nodded briefly to Schwarz and walked past the bridge edge and slid down the snow-covered bank. His boots crunched on frozen soil and entered the tent. Here it was well lit and he blinked, for men wearing white protective suits with BFK-CSU on their backs were examining the bodies. One of the CSU –Crime Scene Unit- men faced Krowther, “Colonel, what we have here is a classic execution.”

“Don’t they normally shoot in the head?” Krowther asked Chief Coroner Thomas James.

Muncke nodded and Krowther sighed, “It could be Richardson and Nacht, look, get an APB out on the jeep and Catherine Prowse.”

The headquarters had already been in a high state of anxiety due to the Fuhrer’s visit but now; everyone was reaching an ulcer-induced state of anxiety. Krowther had the door to his office open and was speaking into a phone when Muncke arrived, “Damn it just find that damn jeep!” he crashed the phone down.

Catherine Prowse, same age as the colonel, blonde hair, green eyes, conspirator to assassinate the leader of the German people. The door was closed to the interrogation room; a single light above the table illuminated both the table and parts of the room. In the semi-darkness stood Muncke, arms folded standing by the door. Krowther, looking decidedly unwell, sat opposite her.

Krowther referred to a Konzentration Zlager or Concentration Camp, no one wanted to end up here and SS members were generally beaten. Catherine looked up, “Why should I tell you?”

“Standartenfuhrer Krowther does not bluff.” Muncke said quietly. Catherine knew that, “I cannot tell, Nicholas and Wilhelm will kill me.”

“We will kill them or imprison them, you must tell us or the Gestapo will take you downstairs.”

Krowther spoke gently, “I am an officer of the SS whether I like it or not, tell now.”

Catherine fell silent and Krowther rocked back in his chair. “Get the Gestapo Muncke.”

Ten minutes later, beneath the cafeteria in the deeper cells could be heard screams. On the top floor, Krowther closed his eyes. Too late now.

Karl Schwarz and his staff were in a worse state than Krowther and his SS staff. It was their jeep missing and their two men killed. Both could be part of a bigger plan to assassinate Strasbourg. Krowther had informed Schwarz about the two SS officers planning to kill Strasbourg, secretly Schwarz was happy that Strasbourg was effectively being used as bait to draw Richardson and Nacht out, but openly protested for despite Strasbourg being SS he was also Schwarz’s Fuhrer. Schwarz stood by his office window, on the second and top floor, gazing out at the floodlit SS-HQ. Normally at this time of night, few lights were in, yet now every light blazed. What was Krowther doing? Was he panicking or ruling with cold steel?

Despite he was SS; Schwarz had respect for the colonel. A twenty-six year old commanding one of the biggest towns deserved respect. Schwarz turned away from the window as his daughter entered, “Generalmajor, latest area reports.”

“Colonel Krowther is simply doing his daughter sir.” On duty she referred to her father as sir. Katrina noticed her father look over the sheet at her, “I know Katrina.”

Katrina walked downstairs, every phone in use; if they found the jeep they might find the rogue officers. She collected her trench coat and walked out. Passing the consulates she noticed people leaning out of upper floor windows watching the SS-HQ with interest, never had they seen the HQ so busy. Katrina entered the SS-HQ and began walking upstairs. She saw Muncke and Krowther talking one end of the floor, she steadily walked that way.

Krowther frowned at the private, “We’re strictly SS here, why don’t you try your father?”
“I wish to help here.” Muncke looked at Krowther, “May as well.”

With the Fuhrer’s train slowly leaving Calais, Krowther called off the APB on the jeep and the officers. All officers were now to get rest until 0700 and report to the station at 0830 to standby. Krowther reflected on Hurley briefly, she would be present at the station along with Heidi and Joachim Wilhelm. Hurley had left his house when he had to go to the SMH Bridge and booked into a hotel. Katrina had tagged with the colonel closely and he suspected there was more then what she had said behind all this. Muncke closed the door of his office, “Your place?”

“Not U555.” Groaned Struber putting on his coat. All three knew it was pointless getting some sleep. “No, how about Raid on America?”

Muncke and Struber began walking downstairs, Krowther glanced at Katrina. “Want to come?”

Krowther turned to walk but she suddenly embraced him and kissed him on the lips, she then walked quickly down the stairs. Krowther touched his lips with gloved hands and wondered if he was wearing some different form of cologne.

As the film about the bombing raids on America in 1946 proceeded, Krowther sipped his coffee. He sat on a sofa by himself, Muncke and Struber watched raptly from another and Katrina sat by herself on the armchair. His mind raced over the past day’s events, Hurley, the double murders, subsequent hunt and now Katrina. It was too much for the commanding officer of Aylesbury and the rest of Bucks, he stood and left for the kitchen. The kitchen had the dining room connecting and both were behind the living room, the kitchen had a left side window that looked onto the parked BMW 750. He heard someone enter behind him a few minutes after he did.

He faced her; the sounds of explosions faintly came through the wall. The blonde haired army private looked at the floor, “You would not believe me.”

Krowther chuckled lightly, “Nein. You’re the first ever to say that to me. Come on, lets watch the rest of the film.”

The black, red and white-decked train of Enrich Strasbourg now had three hours to go. Strasbourg awoke after eight hours sleep and watched TV. Iceberg tried calling Aylesbury SS-HQ to speak to Richardson but got no reply. He watched the Kent countryside speed by without really seeing it.

Platforms two to four each had twenty SS soldiers on the platforms, some army men intermingled with them. All stood at ease but held their rifles with readiness. Platform one on the carp park side had a red carpet leading from the edge of the platform, into the station building. Krowther looked around and said to the stationmaster, “ETA?”

Krowther spoke into a Telekom digital radio, “Krowther to all checkpoints report in.”

One by one the checkpoints reported all clear, at 0845 Wendover radioed in to inform Krowther that the Fuhrer’s train was inbound.

“Acthung!” bellowed Krowther, the three rows of platforms snapped to attention. The faint clicking of the train could be heard before 0900. Hurley, Heidi and Joachim stood to Krowther’s left. Muncke before them, Schwarz two steps behind Krowther. Struber and three others by the side gate.

Atop the Schwarzkopf, under their cover, Richardson and Nacht loaded their weapons. Standing on either end of the building’s roof, the two BFK men didn’t notice them beneath the metal cowling they had dragged on over them at 4am. The red nosed train slowly pulled alongside platform one. Both assassins trained their scopes in where on the platform but the roof of the train blocked their view. High above the sun strained to shine through the clouds.

Krowther watched the foremost swastika decked doors slide open, out stepped Wenck and three other bodyguard soldiers. The four soldiers formed a protective corridor with two either side of the red carpet. The white haired Fuhrer was next. He walked down the carpet, further down, Iceberg and Strasbourg’s staff walked off and began heading up the platform. The doors closed and the train began moving onwards, to park in a siding by the railway bridge. Krowther raised his right arm, “Heil Mein Fuhrer.”

Richardson’s finger tensed, finally the train slid past and he could see the Fuhrer. His finger began to press down on the trigger…

…Just as the sun broke through the clouds, Krowther blinked as the sun reflected something. Instincts made him look skywards and he realised suddenly, that it was reflecting something metal. He grabbed the Fuhrer roughly and pushed him down already reaching for his Luger, the bodyguard began moving forward to attack Krowther when the rifle that Richardson held, cracked loudly.

The bullet slammed into Krowther’s right shoulder, he grasped the bleeding wound with his left hand and drew his Luger with his right. Chaos reigned; Struber and his men couldn’t get on as people panicked. Muncke couldn’t draw due to the Fuhrer’s bodyguard and staff trying to get their Fuhrer up. Strasbourg was manhandled into the station, that was when Nacht blew his cover by standing brandishing a Wolf Hunter, the Wolf Hunter is a machine gun similar looking to the American M-16. Firstly Nacht fired on the two BFK men, both were killed, at the same time, Richardson chucked three stick grenades down. They exploded, wounded and killing many of the SS men on the last three platforms. Bullets rained down on platform one, Krowther fired blindly upwards. Schwarz went down, wounded in the arm. Muncke pushed down Joachim and Heidi, Hurley was killed as bullets cut her in half. The horror of the attack was being watched by millions across the world, amongst them the president of the United States of America. Millions wound watch as Krowther let his left hand drop, covered in blood and lead Muncke and Struber across the tracks. The sirens of ambulances began to close on the station. Richardson and Nacht fired upon the running trio. “Split” ordered Krowther trying to ignore the pain. Muncke raced into the building, he now ran full pelt up the stairs. Struber and Krowther entered the rearmost door and climbed the stairs there. Muncke arrived first and rolled across the roof ending up behind the stairwell cover. He came out and fired twice, his bullets caught Nacht who toppled backwards and fell over. Krowther emerged on the rearmost stairs, he ran forward and tackled Richardson from behind. Richardson and Krowther both dropped their weapons, Richardson attacked Krowther’s weak side and Krowther let go. Muncke and Struber could only stand there circling the two. Krowther stood on the edge and almost fell as Richardson kept punching him, he fell but landed on his back with his waist upwards hanging over the edge and somehow having his legs gripping one of Richardson’s. Krowther hoisted himself halfway up and punched Richardson squarely across the jaw and then grabbed his tunic, he tried pushing Richardson back towards Muncke but Richardson attempted to kick Krowther, Krowther dodged and as a result, Richardson’s boot caught on Krowther’s left hand and he tripped. Richardson fell silently. Krowther collapsed breathing heavily onto the roof, the last thing he saw was Muncke saying: “It’s all over now, you saved the Fuhrer.”

“This is Anna Forbes bringing you the news to you back home. The events of December 9 are still fresh in the memories of those that watched and those that were there. Colonel Matthew Krowther of the SS saved the Fuhrer of the German people, by throwing himself before the bullet.” A delicate pause, “Twenty people including well known model and actress Elizabeth Hurley, were killed and thirteen wounded including the army commander of Aylesbury, Karl Schwarz. This growing town is now on the tongues of millions around the world.”

Another pause, “CNN can officially tell you the identities of the assassins, lieutenant’s Nicholas Richardson and Wilhelm Nacht. Both are now dead. We will remain here until the Fuhrer has left Aylesbury.”

Krowther stood from behind his desk as Strasbourg entered his office, Krowther had now recovered from his wound and returned to duty almost the day after. Wenck waited by the door, the commander of the Leibstandarte Enrich Strasbourg had given Krowther respect for saving the Fuhrer. The Leibstandarte are the official bodyguard of the Fuhrer. The Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler – LAH- was the first that was also a fighting force in WWII and Korea. With Strasbourg’s ascension came the LES, the LAH remained as a fighting force but the LES became the new official bodyguard.

“Not before I did this.” Smiled Strasbourg, producing an Iron Cross or German Cross and pinning it to Krowther’s left breast. “For valour and for the Deutsche Volk.”

“Heil.” Krowther responded, as much as it was clear he was not a fervent Nazi he still had to show respect. Strasbourg stood back and raised his right hand in the Fuhrer salute, “I salute you Colonel Krowther.”

With that, Strasbourg turned on his heel and left. Muncke came in clapping, “Well done Matthew.”

Krowther smiled politely, “Not today, I have a dinner engagement with someone else.”

Krowther stepped out into the cold wintry day and adjusted his cap, before he met Katrina he walked up past Kingsbury Square to St. Mary’s church. He scanned the tombstones until finding the one he was looking for. It was fresh this week and read simply: ELIZABETH HURLEY BORN 1965 DIED 2003- R.I.P. Krowther took off his cap and apologised for what had happened, two minutes later he donned his cap and turned trudging off into the gathering wintry mist.