The Division of the Damned (2 page)

"They come from the ancient colony of Siebenbürg, also known as Transylvania." He pointed to a map of Europe.

"There, in the land between Hungary and Romania, they built their towns and made their lives. They held the German language sacred and carried on with German traditions and culture.”

The Reichsführer’s face took on a dreamy nature as he envisaged these pioneers of Deutschtum, carving out a Teutonic paradise in the midst of the Slavic barbarians.  An idealist by nature, he dreamt of a racially uncontaminated, Germanic utopia. The misery and the deaths of millions of untermenschen were, to him, minor details.

" … And now,”
he continued, “
as we face one of the darkest chapters in our Thousand Year Reich, these people have come to us with an offer of their help." Himmler picked up a letter from his desk. "I rec
eived a letter from a Romanian c
ount, a Count Dracyl Blestamatul to be precise. In it, he offers the services of his Siebenberger regiment.”

Von Struck’s mind was racing. One regiment! The Reichsführer was popping his cork over one regiment? The Soviets were throwing up armies left
,
right and centre and all we can manage is a regiment?

"I see from your troubled expression that you are confused, Standartenführer. I understand your consternation but let me put your mind at rest. With this one regiment, we could possibly win the war.
On the Eastern front, definitely
."
He started to pace again. "A
nd if we win in the East, I have no doubt the West will seek peace terms.” He turned to the map on the wall and searched for something
. "Ah, here it is
—
Klausenburg.
”
H
e pointed to a place on the map. "You will go there with your best men, and th
ere you will meet up with this c
ount … er ….  Count Blestamatul and discuss terms with him. Well
,
not you personally, but you will be there when terms are discussed. Are you religious, Herr Standartenführer? I know that we in the SS are not meant to be religious but sometimes a man can weaken, especially a man who has seen as much action as you have." He waited for an answer.

"Nein, Herr Reic
hsführer, not in the slightest,”
he responded.
The fact was that his three years on the Eastern Front had m
ade it clear to him that there was no God. Religion was for the weak, reality wa
s man and death.

"Are you superstitious? Do you believe in myths and legends, Standartenführer?”

"Nein, Herr Reichsführer.”

"Then you are our
man. This deal," he continued, “
involves
v
ampires.
” He waited for a reaction and seemed dis
appointed when none came. "The c
ount has soldiers that can see in the dark, or so it seems," he carried on in a businesslike manner. "The night is the weakest time for any army and if you have soldiers that control the night, then the war can be fought on a twenty-four hour basis. Do you understand?”

"Vampires, Herr Reichsführer?"

"That’s right, Standartenführer. Well, that’s what they call themselves. Whether they’re the bloodsucking beings of legend,
I don’t know. But it seems
they have developed a method for fighting at night, though I’m not sure how. It might be new tactics or special training methods, I don’t know, but they’ve been very successful. There is at the moment only a company, but he’s swelling the ranks to make a regiment. If all goes well, we’ll put more men into t
his regiment to make it into a d
ivision. SS Division Vampyr
, with this c
ount as its leader and you, Standartenführer, will then become the liaison officer. However, we must be sure that he is reliable. Therefore, you and your hand-picked team will come under the command of a specially appointed officer of my choosing, and you will go and see if all is in order. Is that clear, Standartenführer?”

"Jawohl, Herr Reichsführer,” he answered with a click of his heels.
  One of Himmler’s goons, he thought to himself, who’d earned his position by toadying to other party officials, just what he needed. Nine times out of ten they were always the first to shit their pants when the lead started flying.
Baggage.

Himmler concluded the meeting by handing Von Struck a blue folder. "Your orders are all here.  Read them and report to Brigadeführer Holaf for a further briefing on movements and timings. Is that all clear Standartenführer?”

"Jawohl
,
” he answered with a snap.

"Good luck, Standartenführer. Bring these Vampires into the SS and you will have a regiment of your own
.
" With that, Heinrich Himmler dismissed him with a wave o
f his small, rather effeminate
hand.

Outside, Von Struck turned to Holaf. "Is he
mad? What’s this drivel about v
ampires? W
hy can’t we have sensible, down-to-
earth allies? Vampires
—
what kind of name is that? And baby-sitting one of Heini's bootlickers, I’ve never let a political survive yet.”

"I know, and it’s worse. The political is a doctor. He worked his way up through the ranks in the Concentration Camps, doing experiments on the inmates.”

Von Struck grimaced.
”Experiments?”

"Don’t think about it. He’s probably a decent chap. After all, he is a doctor." The Brigadier laughed.

"God, I need a drink," Von Struck declared, pulling at his tunic collar.

"So do I. Come on, let’s get out of here. I know a good place where the beer is cheap and the girls are even cheaper.”

"Where, Russia?" They both laughed loudly, drawing annoyed stares from the solemn clerks and immaculate secretaries.

Chapter 3

In the Reichsführer’s office, Heinrich Himmler conducted another interview. Doctor Ernst Rasch stood to attention in front of the massive desk.

"Doctor, your work in the camps has been exemplary and you have shown your loyalty to the Party to the satisfaction of all. That is why I chose you to organize and lead this delicate matter to a successful conclusion. You know what this could do to help win the war in the East and help solve part of the Jewish Question in Europe.”

"Jawohl, Herr Reichsführer
,
” Rasch answered.

Tall to the point of freakishness, Doctor Ernst Rasch forced his shoulders back and pushed out his chest in pride. His loyalty to Himmler was slavish and complete as he knew that only Himmler had the power to give him back what he had lost and so badly craved.

Rasch had studied in Heidelberg and written several publications on the
Race Question
. His doctoral thesis had been on the theory that the Jewish race was a product of the forceful coupling of Neanderthal man and Homo
Sapiens
woman.

The idea of the unclean sub-human monster sexually forcing
himself
on the
more advanced, yet defenceless
Homo Sapiens woman found great favour in the phoney scientific minds of the National Socialist Party. It was widely received throughout the Reich and it ushered him into the limelight and the all-seeing eye of Doctor Joseph Goebbels. Goebbels saw in the shamelessly ambitious doctor a propaganda tool of immense potential and set about promoting his career. Rasch spoke at various Party functions and was quickly projected into intellectual stardom. Introduced to The Führer and the upper echelons of the Party, he lectured to the cream of the medical establishment and they took in his message as if it were gospel. Life at that time had been sweet and full of promise.

A bright horizon should have lain before him but for one detail.
The personality
of Doctor Ernst (as he was known within the Party) just did not quite dovetail with the elite clique at the top of the food chain. He was too stiff, overbearing and, at times, just plain strange. He would lean over people whilst talking to them, his immense height making them feel small and threatened. He would defend to his last breath any of his conjectures and whole evenings could be ruined by the
petulant bickering of the good d
octor and any guest who had mistakenly put one of his theories to the test.

Thus, Doctor Ernst Rasch soon found himself left out of the social loop. The flood of invitations dried to a trickle and then to a drought. He was too uncomfortable for social gatherings. People weren’t interested in him anymore, in his theories and legend, yes, but in the man himself,
no. True accep
tance into the select crowd of t
he Party elite escaped him like a virgin evading an unwelcome suitor.

The lowest point in his career found him posted to one God-forsaken camp in Poland after another; doing tedious experiments on scared-witless prisoners. A heavy fall from such hallowed heights would have destroyed all but the strongest of minds, but not Ernst Rasch's. He soldiered on, knowing that someday the Reich would need his talent and intellect.

Then Heinrich Himmler summoned him to his chambers. Heinrich had the knack of knowing when a man was down and turning it to his advantage. He gave Rasch a task to complete, a test that he passed with flying colours. The results of the work so pleased the Reichsführer that Rasch found
himself
once more aspiring to the social limelight.
The honeyed promises of happier times were again within reach and Himmler’s patronage was its key.

All he had to do was end this mission successfully to finish fully the task th
at Himmler had given him to do
—
to make a deal with the count and come back with a positive result. Although empowered to bargain in the name of the Führer, to all intents and purposes the deal had already been made by Himmler himself. Rasch just had to confirm the arrangements and report back.

"Doctor Rasch, you should first make sure we’re getting the quality of soldier we desire before putting anything on th
e line, do you understand? The c
ount has promised a lot, so let’s hope he can deliver.”

"I understand fully what is expected of me, Herr Reichsführer!" he answered enthusiastically.

"Von Struck doe
sn’t need to know all the facts;
I myself have not been too straight with him. Just keep it close to your chest until the situation dictates otherwise. Then let him in on it gently. It’s a lot for a man like Von Struck to have to comprehend but I’m sure he will react in the right manner.”

"Jawohl!”

"The c
ount has our offer; just make sure he's worth it. That will be all, Herr Doctor." Himmler dismissed him.

Chapter 4

Berlin

One day later

Von Struck sat in his office and read through t
he file. It wasn’t his office
;
it belonged to the Brigadier. However, for the next couple of days he had the room to do in as he pleased.

Courtesy of the Reichsführer SS, Von Struck had b
een given free rein to pick who
he wanted to be on his team. He decided to put his trust in Henning, the man who had been his near constant co
mpanion during his time in the E
ast. Oberscharführer Wolfgang Henning w
as a huge thirty-nine year-
old, battle-hardened veteran of twelve years service with the SS. He was loyal, as were all Schutzstaffel soldiers, hard-working and hard drinking. Although he was no officer, Von Struck treated him as an equal and valued his opinion on anything pertaining to combat, beer, whores and the men in their unit. His native Hamburg had lost a true son of St. Pauli when the one meter-ninety ex-bar brawler had left home.

Henning was also in Berlin, staying at the SS Barracks. Von Struck c
alled the g
uardroom and, ten minutes later, the deep booming voice of the NCO rumbled through the telephone.

"Right, s
ir, I’ll bring some good lads with me. Rohleder is still around and he can bring some of his troop.”

"Just make sure they look the part, Henning. We’ve got
r
oyalty to impress, though Rohleder will definitely make a good impression.”

Henning laughed at the shared joke and signed off. Rohleder was also an old hand, though his promotion had been slowed somewhat by a yearlong stay in hospital after surviving a flame-thrower attack. Although horribly scarred on his face and upper body, the wounds were only superficial and, after a year of recovery and a year of leave, he was restless again. His application to go back to his old unit had been rejected on medical grounds so he wrote a letter to Von Struck and begged to be taken back. His wife had left him and he had nothing left to live for except to kill Russians.

Von Struck spoke with Holaf who agreed that Rohleder had the right motivation but he still had to be able to pass the medical requirements to be in the SS. Burns victims were not classed as A1 fit in normal times.
But these are not normal times
, Von Struck had argued,
and his burns are only superficial
. The Brigadier reluctantly promised to see what he could do. One month later, SS Rottenführer Michael Rohleder stood on parade, reinstated to his old rank and the Iron Cross Second class for his willingness to serve
t
he Fatherland in the face of adversity.