Echoes in the Shadows

2

A heavy, animal-like panting, the sound ofhooves striking the ground, and the nonchalant expression of the white-cladrider on the horseback, all contrasted comically with the tense officer holdinga pistol in a standard combat pose.

"Halt!" Iser yelled in fluentDutch at the young rider, "Who are you!"

As he spoke, his index finger pressedtightly against the trigger, the bullet-loaded Luger pistol ready to fire. Thesight of someone in SS uniform speaking fluent Dutch puzzled the rider. Heglanced up and down at the nervous SS officer hiding behind the car, clutchinghis gun, and then relaxed his grip on the horse's reins.

"My dear Sturmbannführer," theyoung man, whose attire gave no hint of his identity, straightened up onhorseback, looking down condescendingly at the uneasy SS officer. Speakingfluent German with a Berlin accent, he eased Iser's tension only to quicklyplunge him into a different kind of embarrassment.

"Forgive my frankness, but yourgun-holding stance is impeccably standard! However, it's just a pistol, the recoilisn't that great. Even firing with one hand wouldn't overly affect itstrajectory, especially since I'm so close to you. So — you don't need to holdit with both hands like a maiden..."

In the midst of this biting mockery, Iserfinally got a clear view of the newcomer. He was a young man, about Iser's age,with black hair combed back to the forehead, forming a straight parting line —the kind of hairstyle Iser least liked, the standard cut according to theGerman Wehrmacht manual.

The Berlin accent in his German, combinedwith the standard Wehrmacht hairstyle, seemed to offer a certainpersuasiveness. Iser's tense nerves finally began to calm down.

"German?" Iser finally steppedout from behind his car, the barrel of his Luger pointing downwards, though hisfinger remained on the trigger.

The rider didn't respond but wore a mockingsmile, turned his horse around, and disappeared into the depths of the forest.The cost of this false alarm was Iser's car stalling less than a kilometer fromthe Wehrmacht camp. With no other choice, Iser abandoned the car on the roadand proceeded on foot, thankfully not too far away.

He had only taken a few steps when a seriesof crisp hoofbeats sounded from behind him.

"Seems like the SS doesn't always getthe best equipment! Our Wehrmacht vehicles, even after surviving variousbombings and mines, still manage to crawl back to the logistics repairstation."

The familiar voice and mockery likelybelonged to the same unconcerned face from earlier. From this familiar,sarcastic remark, Iser could easily deduce that the man who caused his car tobreak down was probably a junior officer from the nearby Wehrmacht camp.