Echoes in the Shadows

8

The aircraft suddenly jolted in the clouds and swiftly tilted downward, followed by a fighter jet that whizzed past, almost grazing their plane.

"Don't worry, that's just the Luftwaffe testing a captured American plane. I guess you're not wearing your glasses; you didn't see the swastika on its tail."

SS-Brigadeführer Lütkenz, with a smug smile, teased the visibly tense General Steiner sitting across from him. The moment encapsulated the tension and rivalry, yet also the odd camaraderie, between the Wehrmacht and SS – a dynamic that often played out against the backdrop of the war.

General Steiner's expression turned even sourer than when he had first seen the fighter jet, as this kind of provocative embarrassment was a near-daily occurrence between him and Lütkenz. Skilled in the art of mental warfare, he internally shredded Lütkenz into pieces the size of fingernails while maintaining an outward facade of arrogance and composure.

Against the backdrop of this tension-filled atmosphere, thick with the metaphorical scent of gunpowder, a young lieutenant sat at the very back of the plane, engrossed in his notebook, seemingly indifferent to the volatile situation unfolding before him. His focus was solely on his work, a stark contrast to the brewing storm among the higher ranks.

Lieutenant Bolman, engrossed in his notebook, was pondering the complex state of negotiations for strategic materials with the Japanese. Rubber, oil, precision machinery, and military technology – the bureaucrats in Berlin must be at their wits' end managing these negotiations. Bolman had been certain of Japan's intent to wage war against the United States even before the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, not only because of the Japanese lukewarm interest in Germany's synthetic oil technology but more so due to the constant presence of rubber in the Japanese negotiation demands. When Southeast Asia's rubber plantations were still under American control, the Japanese confidently used rubber as a bargaining chip in negotiations with Germany. To Bolman, the idea that Japan wasn't planning a war with the U.S. was unbelievable – no one would have bought that story.

On the day when Bolman excitedly burst into the office to inform Major Klauberger of Japan's surprise attack on Pearl Harbor and the U.S.'s entry into the war, he also relayed that their family, wealthy industrialists, had made an unimaginable profit from a large amount of overseas assets that had been 'whitewashed' due to this unexpected event. However, the response he received from Klauberger, the ineffectual heir to this fortune, was not of triumph or glee, but a sincere and na?ve concern for Germany's future. The arrogance and recklessness that marked the early days of the war were gone; in their place, in his eyes, was an unprecedented, melancholic daze.

Bolman felt helpless in the face of such an innocent yet troubled expression. As a capitalist, profit was the top priority. Moreover, the various German monopolistic families that had once helped elevate Hitler to power were already secretly preparing for a change in the tide. Many were covertly aligning with military and political figures, secretly communicating with Britain and America, readying their contingency plans. Klauberger's grandfather had been particularly prescient, having made ample preparations for such a scenario even before the war began.

Now, as other heirs of the monopolistic conglomerates were abandoning Germany's fate to curry favor with Britain and America, Klauberger, who held enough leverage to negotiate with these powers, was still naively concerned about Germany's future. If Bolman were in his shoes, he would rather focus on his shares in oil companies in neutral countries than waste time on such sentimental concerns.

Bolman's brown hair shimmered under the clear sunlight streaming in from above the clouds, his mind occupied with the strategic material negotiations between Germany and Japan. This preoccupation made him completely oblivious to the potential dangers lurking around him. His focus was solely on the benefits these negotiations could bring, disregarding the broader implications and the tumultuous political environment he was part of.

Engrossed in his notebook filled with notes about rubber, steel, and diplomatic negotiations, Bolman was suddenly startled by the mental image of a military sidecar motorcycle zooming off the page, heading straight towards his face. The distressed face of the young Gestapo officer he had seen earlier also flashed through his mind – he remembered seeing a corporal hurriedly pushing Klauberger's sidecar motorcycle away just as he was leaving the camp.

The crisp sound of the notebook hitting the cabin floor broke the tension in the confined space.

SS-Brigadeführer Lütkenz's superior smile tightened as his inquisitive eyes turned toward the Wehrmacht lieutenant beside the window. General Steiner, on the other hand, found Bolman's timely mishap quite commendable. He believed the young man, always meticulous in his duties, had sensed his discomfort and subtly helped him out. Steiner genuinely appreciated his subordinate, but his fondness was mixed with both the typical emotions of a superior and some personal biases.

Bolman bent to retrieve his fallen notebook, seemingly oblivious to the attentions of the two generals, or perhaps his mind was so preoccupied that he simply disregarded their presence — his thoughts swirling around Klauberger, the motorcycle, and the Gestapo. At that moment, Bolman felt an almost overwhelming urge to smash the airplane window and parachute out.

SS-Brigadeführer Lütkenz's gaze was fixed intently on the face of Lieutenant Bolman von Benedek. Despite being seated on the other side of the plane, not far from him, Lütkenz felt as if Bolman was miles away.