Young Lions Roar (29 page)

Ulrich’s brows furrowed. “Only two, sir? I think that I may have shot one of the attackers by the first bridge.”

“That’s possible, Ulrich. His body may have been swept away by the stream.”

Ulrich was silent for a moment as he thought about the events of the last couple of days and how his circumstances had changed. For the better, he thought. He was now the Führer’s
champion and he was in effect untouchable. His future path was written in the stars.

“I must say, sir that the Führer appears to have made an excellent recovery.” Ulrich shook his head slowly. “I could have sworn that the Führer was dead, sir. Funny
how your mind plays tricks on you when you’re under stress.” Ulrich laughed. “Maybe I didn’t take his pulse properly…”

“I would say that the Führer’s recovery is nothing short of a miracle,” Herold said cryptically.

“Hallelujah!” Ulrich smiled and waved his hands in the air like a Baptist preacher.

Herold said nothing.

Ulrich suddenly sat up in his bed. “That reminds me, sir. I must thank the Navy boat crew who rescued us and the ambulance crew who took us to the hospital.”

Herold coughed into his hand. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Ulrich.”

“Why ever not, sir? Are they on leave? I’m sure that the Führer can arrange for them to be recalled…”

“The Führer cannot arrange for them to be recalled from beyond the grave, Ulrich.”

“What? I don’t understand, sir.”

“Partisans massacred a barrack room full of sleeping sailors last night here in King’s Lynn. I’m afraid that your boat crew were amongst them. The Navy has gone completely
crazy. Sailors have gone on the rampage, raping and pillaging across the Fens and have rounded up at least four hundred hostages from King’s Lynn and the surrounding area. They will all be
executed at dawn tomorrow.”

Ulrich was too shocked and stunned to respond.

“And as for the ambulance crew? You can forget them too. The ambulance was found this morning over turned at the bottom of a steep hill. Brake failure. The two crew men were
killed.”

“Hos… hostages-?”

Herold shook his head dismissively. “No, they weren’t real people, they weren’t Germans. They were Hospital employees. British civilians.”

Ulrich said nothing.

“I would imagine that that is what the Führer wants to talk to you about later. In private,” Herold continued.

“Yes, sir,” Ulrich replied as if he was sleep talking.

“Well, no rest for the wicked. I’d best be going.” Herold smiled as he slapped his leather gloves into his hand. “Wars to win and partisans to kill and all that. You know
how it is: busy, busy, busy. I’ll see you around, Ulrich, get well soon. And by the way: congratulations, Obersturmbannführer! I’ve now got to wrack my brains in order to find you
a regiment to command as per the Führer’s orders!”

“Thank you, sir,” Ulrich responded numbly.

Herold popped his head back into the room. “Oh yes, I nearly forgot: one word of advice, Ulrich…”

“Yes, sir?”

“You know what they say about shooting stars?”

“No, sir. What’s that?”

“They may burn brightly, but sooner or later they fade away. Be careful, Ulrich. Watch your back.”

An immaculately-clad SS Hauptsturmführer with recruitment poster good looks intercepted Herold in the corridor and flashed his pearly whites.

“Excuse me, Brigadeführer Herold. The Führer would like to speak with you.”

Herold nodded. “Of course, Captain.”

The Hauptsturmführer opened the door to the Hospital Waiting Room and ushered Herold in with clicked heels and a bow.

“My dear Fritz! How are you? You have no idea what a relief it is for me to see a friendly face.” Hitler strolled over to Herold and shook his hand with genuine warmth and affection.
“I am forever surrounded by sycophants and yes-men! I’m so glad that I can to speak to you before I leave for Cambridge this afternoon.”

“This afternoon, mein Führer?” Herold asked with a raised eyebrow. “With all due respect, mein Führer, is that a wise decision? After all, you only narrowly survived
an assassination attempt yesterday.”

Hitler smiled. “I’m touched by your concern, Fritz. But look at me: I’m as fit as a fiddle! I’ve never felt better! These trials are sent to test us, Fritz, and yet again
I have emerged unscathed from another assassination attempt with nothing more than frayed nerves and a few cuts and bruises. Once again the Lord has spared me to carry out his will! What further
proof is needed that Gott mitt uns?”

“What further proof indeed, mein Führer?”

“Tell me, Fritz, how long have we known each other?” Hitler asked with a warm smile.

“We both joined the Nazi Party in 1919 and I was beside you when the Police opened fire on us during the Munich Beer Hall Putsch in ’23.” Herold smiled as his eyes glazed over
with nostalgia. “And then I commanded an SS Death Squad when we dealt with Rohm and his nest of treacherous SA vipers…”

“Why are the Spanish murdering my men in Hereward?” Hitler demanded abruptly.

“I… I don’t understand, mein Führer…” Herold stammered.

Hitler suddenly slammed the table beside him with the palm of his hand. “Don’t lie to me, Herold! Why are the Spanish murdering my men in the streets of your town?” Hitler
emphasised the words ‘my’ and ‘your’ with venomous menace in his voice.

Herold’s shoulders visibly slumped as he answered. There was no point bluffing. Hitler probably knew everything anyway. “The Spanish have a blood feud with one of my officers in
particular and they have declared Holy War against the SS in general…”

“And you have no idea what is the reason for this vendetta?” Hitler asked with a raised eyebrow.

Herold shrugged his shoulders. “The vendetta started in Spain during the Civil War, mein Führer, at the Battle of Ebro between an Obersturmführer von Stein of the 4
^th
SS Infantry regiment on attachment to the Condor Legión and a Captain Mendoza of the XVII Bandera of the Spanish Foreign Legión. Both of these men are now based in
Hereward.”

“What damned bad luck!” Hitler punched his clenched fist into his palm in frustration. “How did this happen?” He turned to face Herold. “Brigadeführer Herold,
I don’t know how this blood feud started, but I know how it will end: with a German victory!”

“Yes, mein Führer!” Herold bowed.

“I don’t care how you do it, but I want you to solve this problem by the time that I return to Hereward on June 19th. If you can’t solve this problem then I will find someone
who can. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, mein Führer!”

“One other word of advice, Fritz - we first met in 1919, didn’t we?”

“Yes, mein Führer.”

“Well, I first met Rohm in 1914 and we served together throughout the war. He saved my life on several occasions and I did the same for him. We were blood brothers. And yet I ordered you
to execute him when he failed me…”

Herold gulped, and a bead of sweat ran down his cheek.

“You and I met in 1919 after the War, Fritz. We are not blood brothers. Imagine what I will do to you if you fail me?”

“What happened, Alice?” Aurora asked as she placed a hand on her friend’s arm.

“We failed, Aurora,” Alice answered. “Look.”

Alice showed Aurora the front page of “The Daily Telegraph” and began to read.

FÜHRER SURVIVES ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT

The Führer survived an assassination attempt when his convoy was attacked as he entered Hereward on June 15th. Over forty of the Führer’s personal SS bodyguard,
including their commander, Standartenführer Ernst Fraenkel, bravely sacrificed their lives in the course of courageously defending their beloved Führer from harm. Only one other SS
officer, Sturmbannführer Norbert Ulrich, survived the attack, and the Führer has congratulated him for his cool head and courage under fire. The Führer has personally praised
Sturmbannführer Ulrich for saving his life during the attack and has promoted Sturmbannführer Ulrich to Obersturmbannführer and has awarded him the Iron Cross First Class (see photo
above)…”

“I swear to God, I don’t know how he does it.” Alice shook her head and she could not help herself from smiling. “Norbert is always in the right place
at the right time…”

“No wonder they call him The Cat.” Aurora said. She noticed her friend smiling. “How do you feel about the whole thing?”

Alice shrugged her shoulders. “I know that I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. I feel proud of Norbert in a strange way.”

“Proud?” Aurora asked in disbelief.

“Yes, Aurora. Proud.” Alice put her hand on her friend’s arm. “I know that you might find this difficult to believe, Aurora, but Norbert is not a Nazi. If he had been
born in England instead of in Germany he would be fighting the Nazis as hard as we are. The fact that he wears a Nazi uniform is no more than a stroke of bad luck and an accident of
birth.”

Aurora nodded her head slowly. “It’s strange, Alice, but I could say exactly the same thing about my father…”

Alice picked up the newspaper once again, and continued reading:

“Two bodies were found at the scene and they are believed to be terrorists despatched by that despicable and deceitful Jew-loving Bolshevik war-mongerer Churchill to
carry out this cunning and cowardly attack on our beloved Führer. It is very likely that more treacherous terrorists were involved in the attack, and SS and Wehrmacht units are scouring the
countryside searching for these gangsters. Units of the British Union of Fascists Militia are assisting their Fascist comrades in their hunt for these enemies of peace…”

“Two terrorists?” Aurora interrupted. “Alice, I haven’t seen Bob at school today, is he all right?”

Alice shook her head slowly as tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m afraid not. Bob’s dead, Aurora, Bob’s dead.”

“No!” Aurora cried in anguish and raised her hand to her heart.

“And Archie as well, Aurora, and one of the parachutists from the Free North.”

Aurora sobbed uncontrollably, and her whole body shook. Alice gathered her friend into her arms and hugged her tightly.

“Aurora, listen to me. Aurora.” Alice raised Aurora’s chin with her fingertips. “This isn’t over. They haven’t won. We can’t allow them to win. Archie,
Bob and Zed did not die in vain. We can’t allow that to happen. Hitler will be in Hereward on the 19
^th
of June until the 22
^nd
, and possibly beyond that date. We can
still kill him.”

Aurora straightened up and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

“Then this time let’s make sure that we do kill him.”

Aurora’s two Legiónary bodyguards watched the scene unfold from a discreet distance, with interest.

“Can you hear what they’re talking about, Antonio?” The younger one asked.

Antonio shook his head. “ No, Julio, but as I told the Colonel, I knew that being able to lip read was a skill that would come in useful one day…”

“So I want you to solve this problem once and for all, von Stein. I want you to stop the Spanish from attacking our men…”

“And just how am I supposed to do that, Brigadeführer?” von Stein asked with open palmed frustration.

“I don’t care, von Stein!” Herold smashed his knuckled fists into the surface of his desk. “I don’t care and I don’t want to know. Just get it done because if
you don’t get it done by June 19
^th
then you and I are both history.”

“By June 19
^th
? But sir, that only gives me three days,” von Stein protested. He watched a thin line of blood drip from Herold’s hand onto the desktop. The
Brigadeführer did not seem to notice.

“Von Stein, the Führer has made it perfectly clear that if we cannot solve the problem then he will find someone who can. I don’t think I need to spell out to you what will be
the price of failure.”

Von Stein gulped and a bead of sweat ran down his back. “No, sir.”

“Good.” Herold nodded. “Solve the problem by any means necessary, because if you don’t then we will both be in front of a firing squad before you can say ready, aim,
fire!”

“So what are you going to do, Antonio?” Julio asked. “Are you going to tell the Colonel?”

“I don’t know what else I can do, Julio.” Antonio idly toyed with the spoon in his coffee cup as he spoke. “I don’t see that I have any choice. The Colonel chose
you and I for this mission precisely because we both speak English and also because I can lip read English as well as Spanish. What is the point of putting us in this position if we don’t use
our skills?”

“But if you tell the Colonel, Aurora and Alice could well be in a hell of a lot of trouble. And anyway, the Resistance have not carried out any attacks against ourselves, only against the
Germans, and are the Germans not our enemies as well as the enemies of the Resistance?” Julio asked rhetorically.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend?” Antonio asked with a raised eyebrow.

“My thoughts exactly,” Julio nodded enthusiastically. “We are fighting the Germans and the Resistance are fighting the Germans as well. Does that not make us allies in
practice, whether or not we accept that we are allies in theory?”

“Yes…” Antonio conceded.

“And if the Resistance killed Hitler, would that necessarily be a bad thing? Would it necessarily be bad for Spain, Europe or the World?” Julio persisted.

“God knows I hate the idea of the Caudillo going cap in hand to the victor’s table begging for whatever scraps that Hitler deigns to throw to us,” Antonio admitted. “If
we want Gibraltar that badly then I say that we should simply take it - not beg Hitler to give it to us once they have defeated the British…”

“Speak of the devil,” Julio whispered. “Hello girls, how are you this fine afternoon?”

“Aurora! Aurora!” Colonel Mendoza rushed from room to room with a drawn revolver as he searched for his daughter. He was closely followed by four heavily-armed
Legiónaries. “Clear the house room by room and floor by floor!” Mendoza ordered.

He spotted the two bodies sitting in the kitchen. The Legiónaries sat slumped at the table with their heads resting on their chests. Mendoza grabbed hold of a handful of hair and pulled
up the dead soldier’s head. The Legiónary’s face was a mess of blood, bones and brains. He had been executed at point-blank range with a bullet in the back of the head. The other
Legiónary was in a similar state of ruin.