The Reichsführer stepped out of the rain, and into the makeshift tent, rain wicking off his black trenchcoat. A dozen disagreeing voices assaulted his ears. At the center of the massive tent stood a tall rectangle of some sort, draped in green cloth, and guarded by two men in dark uniforms.
Disparate equipment, both scientific and communications were strewn about, as agents of the Reich of every branch from Ahnenerbe to the Kreigsmarine argued with passion.
A man in a pitch black SS uniform argued passionately with a gray-green uniformed man of the regular army. The SS officer was almost yelling.
“We must make an effort to germanize this barbaric land! It is our spiritual destiny!”
The army officer was an older man, with a large scar across his face, probably from fencing, as had been the fashion at prussian officer schools in decades past. He responded in a contrastingly professional and reserved tone.
“I’m sorry, but you are mistaken Commandant. We must make full use of our dwindling resources to first win this war in Europe! The Americans and so-called free French are almost in Rome. Perhaps soon they will soon surge across the English channel land in Calais. I simply cannot justify the waste of five full divisions into a strange and distant land, while Germany itself is at stake.”
“Are you blind? This war is lost, major!”
At this, the army majors' expressions changed. His cold dispassion gave way to a concerned superior tone.
“Watch your tongue, Commandant! Your words border on treason against Germany. What is worse, you are wrong. I received a missive from OKH only this morning! Herr Guderian is confident we can win if only-”
The SS officer had no such concerns for professionalism. He let loose with a sharp tone. “Guderian is a delusional fool. We must guarantee the future of national-socialism in an environ less hostile to its growth!”
Finally, having enough, the Reichsführer cleared his throat, and began to unbutton his trenchcoat. The Commandant was the first to take notice.
“Herr Himmler!” The short man yelped. He snapped to attention, his jackboots clicking together. The others took note and rapidly followed suit. Himmler took the chance to speak, and raised his shrill voice.
“You are right on both counts, Commandant. This war is lost, but! But the universe in its charity has given us an opportunity for a new beginning. A new beginning in a new land. We must make the most of this hand we have been dealt, so that Nationalist-Socialism might continue past the fall of the reich.”
The Army Major stuttered. “But- Reichsführer! Germany– It will”
Himmler shook his head and adjusted his heavy spectacle frames.
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“You are nearsighted, major. This struggle against these forces arrayed against us is a losing one. We face destruction from the east, from the south, soon perhaps from the west. I am sorry Major. Germany–. Germany is a lost cause. And what is worse! It is the fault of men like you! Men who lack vision!” He paused to once again raise his wet frames, which had once again begun to slip down his nose. He continued.
“You simple career officers, who have advocated caution and care all the way to moscow! And what now? The soviets-. The soviets have had time to regroup, and are on the verge of a sweeping counteroffensive. The western allies have beaten us in Africa, and now in Italy! I assert, Yes I assert. It is your fault.” The Reichsführers voice rose, filled with anger and scarcely masked hate as he continued.
“The Führer was very clear. There must be no such thing as a non-political officer among our arrayed forces. And I see now in you that he was right. You have faith in Germany, Yes, but None in National-Socialism. I have seen the proceedings of your eastern groups. You burn the countryside and salt the farms, yes. But when the vermin’s emaciated spawn crawls out from the underbrush, you shirk even as you deliver the killing blow. You are weak, all of you! There must be no half measures. A half measure is a half loyalty! A divided loyalty is treason!” The man’s shrill voice cut out into a fit of wheezing coughing. The room around them stood frozen. As he finished, Himmler was aware through foggy spectacles that unlike the rest of the room, which averted their gaze in deference, the Army Major stared intently, a slight frown forming on his brow. Perhaps he would make an example of this man.
Himmler cleared his throat and continued.“If the men in charge of our armies, like you and Rommel had merely had faith in our divine mandate, and charged forth with righteous fury, we would have swept the allies from the earth with a holy zeal! I say it now! The faithless have been the ruin of Germany. But by providence now, National-Socialism has the opportunity to rise pure from the ashes, clean of impurities, in this new world.” He laughed sardonically at the concept. “I can scarcely believe it. A new world, ripe for conquest, Fertile soil for our spiritual destiny to continue unbounded!”
The Army Major threw off his coat, his chest ringing with dozens of accolades and medals, an iron cross in his collar. When he raised his voice it was a tempest.
“You are insane, Herr Himmler! You, and the Führer himself! You have ruined Germany, and spoiled her spirit! And now you seek to abandon her? Like a common whore to be tossed aside?” The man reached dramatically across his waist for his pistol. ”I will not allow it! I will–”
The man stopped, frozen, as a hole burst through his head. The SS commandant holstered his pistol. The room stood in shock. Himmler calmy noted that the man’s impure blood had spoiled his white riding gloves. He removed them with disgust, and held them up towards the commandant. He spoke softly this time.
“Your gloves, Commandant?” They exchanged gloves. In the background, an enlisted man took the liberty of hauling off the major’s corpse. Himmler noted with disgust that some of the gore had stained through his gloves. It was no matter. He pulled the new clean white gloves over, ignoring the wet spots on his uniform. It was black, so the blood would not be apparent. He must look his best today. He raised his voice.
“The curtains, Oberstormführer?”
The officer at the far side of the room waved, and the two men, who stood guard, pulled back the drapes, revealing two large obelisks, of impossibly dark stone, marked with strange runes, and glowing an ominous blue light through cracks in their oily surface. Between them shone a landscape, not a painting, but an apparition, just as the reports had stated. Just beyond the portal stood an honor guard of SS troops, in two lines on either side of the gate. They stood in a wide forest glade, practically glowing with light and life, a sharp contrast to the dark and rainy night outside the tent. On the far side of the glade sat a platform, upon which stood a set of tables, laden with strange fruits and foods.
The most striking detail however, was them.
Standing around, with supernatural poise, was the envoy party. Himmler scoffed. Their features were an ill mockery of the Aryan ideal, but they would have to do. Reichsfuhrer Himmler tightened his belt, took a deep breath, and stepped into another world.