Echoes in the Shadows

4

Within minutes, Iser felt a surge of confidence in his interrogation skills honed through his intelligence work. Just a few sentences in, he had confirmed his previous judgment about the Major from the young adjutant's words — rigid, stubborn, a thoroughbred Junker nobleman, an old-school Prussian military officer's style, seemingly connected with some generals and marshals in the Wehrmacht's General Staff...

Iser continued to engage in pleasant, casual conversation with the naive young adjutant, yet his topics subtly continued to probe.

"However, it seems a bit... underwhelming for an officer who has participated in two world wars to only attain the rank of Major."

He deliberately spoke slowly, and as expected, before he could finish, he was interrupted by the young man in the equestrian outfit.

"Major Klauberger didn't participate in the last war, but he did serve in the Wehrmacht during the Weimar era."

"Sorry," Iser replied with a slight smile, continuing smoothly, "Nonetheless, I have great respect for the professional soldiers trained under General Seeckt during the '100,000-man Army' era. They have always been the paragons and role models of soldiers in my mind."

Iser knew that this naive adjutant would likely repeat his words to his old-fashioned Junker superior. The compliments would surely be well-received, setting a good foundation for future interactions. The information relayed by the adjutant was also sufficient to paint a clear picture of a conservative, rigid, old-school Wehrmacht Junker officer in his forties.

"A model and paragon of soldiers?"

The dark-haired adjutant suddenly curled his lips with barely concealed disdain upon hearing this.

Iser quickly sensed that this young officer, who grew up in the Nazi era, seemed dissatisfied with his superior's old-fashioned ways. Seizing the opportunity, Iser made a few witty remarks poking fun at the old-fashioned Junker nobility, which immediately piqued the young adjutant's interest. This invigorated Iser, as part of the Gestapo's role was also to keep an eye on the Wehrmacht.

With this in mind, Iser happily unwrapped the third piece of chocolate from the dish beside him — savoring the delightful taste of his spoils of war.

" Klauberger, while I'm away in Berlin, you'd better behave yourself. Don't go gallivanting around on horseback, especially in those deserted forests. Who knows if there are any Dutch resistance fighters hiding there... And, don't pick up any strange things to keep while I'm not around."

A young military officer, clad in the uniform of a Wehrmacht lieutenant, entered the room, clutching a stack of documents. The glittering silver crescent adorning his chest caught the eye of Captain Iser — a distinctive aiguillette symbolizing the officer's status as an adjutant. This ornamental cord, worn by regular German officers only on ceremonial dress, was a daily requirement for adjutants, indicating their special role.

Suddenly, Captain Iser felt as if something was stuck in his throat. The officer, upon noticing the unexpected guest in the room, appeared equally taken aback.

For a moment, the atmosphere in the room was like jelly pudding – transparent, set, yet uncontrollably trembling.

"Ah — you've come at just the right time. This is Captain Iser, here to see Major Klauberger. Can you arrange it?"

The dark-haired young man in the chair, upon seeing the newcomer, suddenly sprang up and rushed to the lieutenant with the aiguillette. He continued his eerie smile, patted the lieutenant on the shoulder, and then quickly vanished through the reception room door, leaving behind the stunned Wehrmacht lieutenant and a bewildered Iser.

Subsequently, the Wehrmacht lieutenant scrutinized Captain Iser, clad in his SS uniform, and then abruptly left the room in a fit of anger, leaving the bewildered Gestapo officer alone in the reception hall, lost in thought. After about five or six minutes, the stern-faced adjutant returned to the room, his demeanor both hostile and serious. He barked "Heil Hitler" at Iser and coldly informed him that Lieutenant Colonel von Kraulberg was waiting to see him in his office.

Iser hastily returned the salute and, bewildered by the sequence of events, proceeded to von Kraulberg's office. With a loud thump, his military boots, adorned with metal studs, echoed heavily on the solid oak floor. Unsure if his action was a salute or a frustrated stomp, Iser realized that as an intelligence officer, overtly displaying his emotions in such a manner was unprofessional.