Echoes in the Shadows

12

The favor of fate, it seems, perennially allies with the mightiest — a truth Captain Iser of the Gestapo realized as he was forcibly brought to an anti-aircraft gun position by Major Kraulberg. Staring at the formidable 88mm gun barrels amidst the deafening roars, Iser understood this harsh reality.

It was an eight-man anti-aircraft gun crew. Kraulberg, exhilarated, assumed the role of the gun commander. Two robust Wehrmacht soldiers were tasked with loading and firing, while another two handled the ammunition and shells. The rest managed the gun's directional movements, and one operated the targeting device based on the command instrument's data.

Iser stood aside, silently discarded by this busy crew. Just moments ago, he had been dragged to this artillery position by the frenzied major. There, Kraulberg had appraised him like an object before shaking his head dismissively, commenting disdainfully, "Your frail physique, nurtured in an office, is hardly suited for heavy tasks like loading shells."

Before Iser could even process this insult, he was grabbed by Kraulberg's iron-like grip and thrust into a position at the gun.

"However, operating the command instrument is an easier task," Kraulberg's voice, brimming with devilish excitement, once again filled Iser's ears.

"The operation of the anti-aircraft gun is quite straightforward — the gun body can rotate horizontally, while the barrel adjusts vertically. The barrel's direction can be coarsely or finely tuned... Ah, but sorry, this really isn't your concern. All you need to do is align the targeting device according to the data provided by the command instrument... It's that simple."

"Targeting what device?"

Iser timidly questioned, his deep linguistic expertise offering little help in deciphering the military jargon spewed by the major.

"The targeting device!"

The major, agitated and slightly irate, narrowed his eyes.

"So then... which one is the command instrument, and which is the targeting device?"

Iser's inquiry was met with scornful glances from the robust Wehrmacht artillerymen and a more menacing gaze from the major.

"That three-meter-long thing is the command instrument..."

One of the soldiers, tasked with loading the cannon, shot another disdainful look at Iser. He then rolled up his sleeves, revealing bulging muscles, and began to prepare the ammunition, disregarding the ineffectual Gestapo officer.

"How do I use the targeting device then?"

Iser's query was met with indifference as everyone busied themselves with their respective duties, leaving him feeling more isolated than ever.

"When the two pointers indicating the gun's horizontal and vertical positions align on the targeting device's specified location, let me know we can fire," the major finally answered amidst his bustling activities.

Iser looked at the busy officer with a gaze of pure innocence, silently pleading his complete incomprehension.

"My goodness!" The major halted his work, fixing his gaze on Iser's clueless eyes.

"You're not telling me you didn't understand a word I said!"

"That's right!"

Iser boldly declared, caring little for the reputation of the Gestapo at this point.

The major stood frozen for a good half minute before he reluctantly uttered, "Alright then! You might as well rest below the gun position and watch us work."

Thus, Captain Iser was ignominiously relegated from the anti-aircraft gun position to a mere spectator, branded in the eyes of all as an incompetent fool of the Gestapo.

As preparations were completed, the major, his hands resembling unyielding clamps of steel, kept checking his watch—a luxury piece clearly beyond the reach of ordinary men. Then, spotting his target in the skies, he unleashed the thunderous roar of the artillery. The deafening blasts tormented Iser's eardrums, leaving him in excruciating pain. Soon after, the major, brimming with excitement, descended from the gun position and, in a language Iser no longer worried about comprehending due to his temporary deafness, bellowed at him.

After a few exhilarated shouts, the major once again extended his formidable grip, efficiently grabbing the nearly spent Gestapo officer, and dashed towards a military motorcycle that had been waiting. "I believe you remember what I said—I want to personally deal with that English scoundrel who dared to drop chocolates on my head in my office!" This was the first sentence Iser comprehended as his hearing began to return.

The speaker was Major Kraul-Berg, the very man who had just shot down a British aircraft.

"Of course, and for that, I must thank you for the information provided—"

The major said as he slapped a document onto his desk. Iser, focusing his gaze, recognized it as the file he was examining before being abducted from the Gestapo headquarters.