Panzerfaust

Chapter 37 - Haunted

July 15th, 1945, Berlin, Greater German Reich

The room is hot and filled with smoke from the many cigarettes burning between high ranking fingers, chests puffing up and down adorned with an armada of glinting medals inhaling the tobacco to their lungs; the very bests of the Reich - or at least that's what someone told them when they hanged those precious awards on their perfectly tailored suits. 

The only light is on Sturmbannführer Otto Skorzeny, praying that he stands straight and tall enough; befitting his rank and his battalion, although he feels like he could fall asleep on his two feet in any minute.

When was the last time he slept? Two days? Three? He completely lost his sense of time since... everything.

The men at the table are not his friends  - neither are they his enemies; they're here to pass judgement over his failure. He can only see the military judge's face, reading out his crimes, the rest of the spectators' face is hidden by darkness. 

'What exactly happened when you ordered your troops to storm the Kremlin?' The judge asks at last, stark voice shaking him up from his thoughts.

'I've hit camp by the 4th ring of Moscow, then sent my reconnaissance officer's platoon in; the Kremlin is like a labyrinth; I suspected that Stalin will escape through the southern gate if i attack on the northern side; on the eastern if I launch an attack from west. I did not had enough men to circle the entire fortification.'

'Your reconnaissance officer; Baron Adrian von Fölkersam?

'No sir, Hauptsturmführer Fölkersam was killed in Latvia during a partisan raid.  I promoted his right hand officer to the task; second lieutenant Sebastian Burghardt. I had no other person for the job.'

'How dare you accuse us of not providing enough men for your mission?'

'I am talking about loosing a key figure before an important mission, sir.'

There's a murmur between the lines of officers, but Otto just straightens his posture even more.

'Did you trust this Burghardt?' The judge's voice cuts of the noises in the room, going on with his interrogation.

'Yes, sir. I trust all my men following me into battle.'

The interrogator shuffles with the papers in his hands; then continues his assault.

'What was your wife doing in Smolensk? It's not exactly the time and place for a rendevouz.'

'She came for my fallen comrade's son as I requested -  Armin von Fölkersam. My family adopted the boy from a Lebensborn house in Stettin to honour Hauptsturmführer Adrian von Fölkersam's last wish.'

'I see. Your wife is of hungarian heritage, is she not?' Looking up from behind his glasses, the man watches his every move like a hawk, leaning forward in his seat.

'She is not. She is austrian.'  Just like the Führer and I.

'Still had traitors in her family.'

'A cousin married to a dead man can hardly be her fault. She has been a dedicated member of our society since the day she set foot in the Reich.'

'I can vouch for Frau Skorzeny's innocence; if her husband commited any treason, that is in no correlation with her character.' Oberstrumbanführer Joachim Peiper leans into the light, his face prim and calculated. 

You fucking viper. Aren't you just eager to step in and console a poor widow after you ordered the line of fire for her husband?

The judge sets aside what Otto can only assume are reports of Sophia Edelsheim with resignation, and turns his hard eyes back to him.

'So you ordered Leutnant Sebastian Burghardt to storm the Kremlin.'

'No sir, I ordered them to find out where Stalin exactly is.' 

'In-cognito?'

'Jawohl.'

'And what did they found?'

'Leutnant Burghardt sent me a message just before they were discovered. Stalin was ready to depart through the southern gate; I think he planned to escape to the Caucasus - his birthplace -  to start a guerilla war with us.' 

'What did you do when you received that information?

'I stormed the southern gate. We eliminated Molotov and Mikoyan,  I personally took Lavrentiy Beriya prisoner.'

'What happened to Leutnant Burghardt and his platoon?'

'I... dont know. if you just let me speak to him...'

He knew he said the wrong words in the minute they left his mouth, disappointment cracking on the judge's facade.

'Why would you want to speak to a traitor? But fine, as you wish. Let's try a confrontation clause.'

Then they lead him into a cellar, and a few minutes later Reinhard Heydrich and Sophia Skorzeny joined them.

Then he murdered Sebastian Burghardt.

Sturmbannführer Otto Skorzeny wakes in his bedroom on the tiny apartment on Lennéstrasse, His wife  already awake, stroking the sweaty locks on his temple. His long body is curved against hers without putting any weight on her, large palm resting on her belly sensing the tiny movements inside her womb.

'I am just feeling my child moving for the first time and I'm greying already.' He thinks. 'And I am only thirty-seven. Or rather thirty-seven, already?'

'She just started moving recently. So thankfully you didn't missed out on much.' Sophia murmurs into his hair, noticing his wakening. 'Have you been thinking about names?'

'Yes.' He lets the moment linger between them before he answers. 'Carolina.'

'Fucking funny you are, Otto Skorzeny.'

'And you're so aggressive lately. I live for it.' Not even trying to hide his smirk, he kisses the precious mouth, savouring their kiss.

God, how he missed her. Her lousy little mouth, with the coquettish tongue; how she snuggles up beside his large form, lacing their fingers over their child in her womb. 

'Oti, are we all going to be safe here? In Germany?'

'It's not likely I'll be persecuted further, but I'll be cut out from important missions in the future for a while. Until they let Ernst return from Vienna.'

'My husband is the best special forces commander in the Waffen SS. It's their loss.'

'You might think it's your loss too when you'll find yourself without those powerful friends of yours.'

'I would not call them my friends. None of them, except Elvira. I learned from Alexandra von Fölkersam enough; I know Magda Göbbels does not keeps me around because she thinks I am that exceptionally witty and charming.'

'I bet she wonders what you are doing next to a beast of a man like me.'

'A beast?' Sitting up, she faces him with a determination he have not seen on her face in a while, tracing a soft finger on the scar on his face.  

'The beastliest men I know were all wearing a charming face on their blond heads until they sank their teeth into your skin. Power without conscience is a wild beast; not something you wear on your face.'