Echoes in the Shadows

1

Autumn 1941, Netherlands late at night

Cold wind swept across the open fields ofthe Dutch countryside. Under the moonlight, a group of German soldiers quietlyassembled, preparing to execute a secret mission. Nearby, Werner Iser, aLieutenant of the Gestapo, had a terrifying determination sparkling in hisbeautiful eyes.

They were almost invisible in the darknessof the night, with only occasional whispers and the slight noise of theirequipment revealing their presence.

Lieutenant Iser's hand gently touched hispistol, his heartbeat accelerating with the passage of time. This was noordinary search operation — it was an unprecedented conspiracy by the Gestapo.

Spring 1942, Netherlands

Today, Captain Werner Iser of the Gestapois in a foul mood. Just an hour ago, his superior, Major Gisk, had reprimandedhim fiercely. The reason: last night, Major Kraul Berg of the German DefenseForce was attacked and injured by British intelligence operatives. Such anincident might be insignificant in other German-occupied areas, but in theNetherlands, it's a shockingly significant event for the local Gestapo andSecurity Office.

Last autumn, in a counter-espionageoperation, Lieutenant Iser of the Gestapo captured a secret British radiostation, took the radio operator prisoner, and also rounded up a British spygroup known as RLS. He embarked on a daring adventure using the capturedBritish radio station. Although all his colleagues thought it was ludicrous touse the captured British radio operator and transmitter to send messages backto London, Iser paid no heed to their mockery. Miraculously, on the thirdattempt, London responded – the request for aerial drop support in theNetherlands would be met.

The next day, Lieutenant Iser received fourcrates of weapons and a British intelligence officer, air-dropped by London. Anhour later, London's headquarters also quickly received a telegram from theDutch side confirming the success of the air drop.

Lieutenant Iser had triumphed! This stunnedall the old-guard German intelligence officers, who were known for their rigor.Consequently, Iser became a hero and was even awarded a prestigious Iron Cross.

In the months that followed, under thecommand of Captain Iser, London sent more spies to "land" in theNetherlands. Iser effortlessly captured these spies along with their radioequipment. Using this equipment, Captain Iser quickly established 14 channelsof communication with London. Thus, by the time Christmas approached that year,the entire British spy network in the Netherlands was under the control of thisyoung Gestapo officer. Iser, riding high on success, was promoted fromLieutenant to Captain and took full charge of counterintelligence operations inthe region.

However, today's news of Major Kraul Bergbeing attacked and injured was like a slap in the face for Iser - it seemed toshake the myth that he controlled the entire Dutch network of British spies.

"Could it be the local Dutchresistance, acting as guerrilla fighters?" Iser speculated. He found ithard to believe that any British intelligence personnel, under his tightlycontrolled counter-espionage network, could escape his surveillance and evenaudaciously infiltrate a German military camp to attack an unrelated Germanofficer.

"Major Kraul Berg claims he has solidproof that the attack was indeed carried out by the British military!"Major Gisk spoke to Iser in a very calm tone.

As an old-school Gestapo familiar with theintricate and tangled relationships within the German military, Major Gisk knewall too well that Major Kraul Berg was no ordinary officer of the GermanWehrmacht – he was the heir to a military-industrial monopoly conglomerate, andthe subject of various rumors among Berlin's elite circles. But one thing wascertain: crossing this influential figure was never a good idea!

"Therefore, please set aside yourcurrent work and visit Major Kraul Berg to understand the situation. I'll giveyou one week to handle this matter; someone else will temporarily take overyour duties," Major Gisk instructed, then coldly dismissed Iser from hisoffice.

Faced with a fall from grace, from being inthe limelight to now being treated with cold indifference and skepticism,Captain Iser almost didn't know how he managed to walk out of the securityoffice building, overwhelmed by a profound sense of defeat.

"Major von Kraul-Berg – that damnedold Junker!" Iser couldn't help but vent his anger on the Wehrmacht Majorwho had inexplicably brought him misfortune. Despite never having met the man,who had recently been transferred to the Netherlands, Iser had been tooengrossed in his tireless efforts on the front lines of the Germancounter-espionage war. Nothing beyond his work seemed to penetrate his world,least of all the Wehrmacht officers in the Netherlands who seemed to beenjoying a vacation rather than fighting. His reason for labeling the Major asan "old Junker" was probably just a guess based on the 'von' in hisname.

When Werner Iser's car sped away from theGestapo office, it took him half an hour of reckless driving to realize he hadcommitted a fundamental error unbecoming of an intelligence officer. Not onlyhad he failed to investigate the recent attack properly, but he was alsocompletely ignorant of Major Kraul-Berg's background. His entire focus in thepast six months had been consumed by the intelligence warfare with the British.

At this moment, his car was less than threekilometers from the Major. "To hell with it!" Iser pushed theaccelerator down hard. His caution and composure were already crushed under hiswheels, so he might as well go all in. After all, he was never as rigid andmethodical as his colleagues. Otherwise, how could he have masterminded the'Arctic Operation' that deceived the entire British intelligence network?

In a moment, the previously straight andflat road passed through a deathly quiet forest. Although the sun had risen,the thin morning mist in the woods had not yet dispersed. Towering oak treeslined both sides of the road, effectively blocking the sunlight frompenetrating the forest. Iser's green eyes, cold and composed like theatmosphere of the woods, focused steadily ahead. He was not worried about aguerrilla or resistance fighter suddenly emerging from this slightly eerieforest, not only because it was very close to a Wehrmacht camp, but alsobecause he firmly believed in the effectiveness of his work. Still, a loadedLuger pistol was holstered at his waist.

As the car was about to leave the forest,the sudden rustling sounds around him heightened Iser's alertness. He continuedto accelerate the car while controlling the steering wheel with one hand, hisother hand instinctively reaching for the gun at his waist.

A loud screech, accompanied by a blackshadow, swooped down on Iser like a blanket over the sky. He slammed on thebrakes, but the steering wheel, controlled by only one hand, couldn't stabilizethe car. The tires screeched against the ground, and the car spun out ofcontrol, crashing heavily into a large oak tree. However, Iser didn't lose hiscomposure amidst this sudden chaos. As soon as the car stabilized, his righthand was already raising the pistol, his left arm serving as a brace to steadyhis right, his index finger tensely on the trigger, aiming at the unexpectedvisitor.