Echoes in the Shadows

33

Sitting side by side in the backseat of the car, Klauberger and Iser were a study in contrasts. Seizing the opportunity, Klauberger attempted to strike up a conversation.

"This isn't the way back to my place," the Gestapo agent sharply noted, realizing that the car wasn't taking the usual route to the local Nazi Security Office.

"Because—I promised to return you unscathed," Klauberger, the Lieutenant Colonel, said, his tone switching back to the familiar arrogance, his sinister smile returning.

"Until you're fully recovered, I'll have someone look after your daily needs. As for your sick leave—our Wehrmacht doctors will handle it with your superiors. You can rest assured!" Klauberger's words, meant to reassure, carried an undercurrent of something more, reflecting the complex and uneasy relationship between the two men.

After his comment, Klauberger glanced at the Gestapo officer, expecting to see a look of discomfort or irritation, but surprisingly, Iser's face showed no such signs, leaving Klauberger somewhat disappointed. This reaction felt eerily familiar to Klauberger, reminiscent of his childhood interactions with Rosshild, who often responded similarly to his relentless teasing. Suddenly, a wave of melancholy washed over Klauberger, and he became lost in thought, staring blankly out of the car window, falling silent for the rest of the journey.

Klauberger had recently received a letter from Rosshild, brimming with enthusiasm. In it, Rosshild expressed a deep desire to participate in frontline battles, particularly voicing a wish to be deployed to the Eastern Front.

"I don't want to be a soldier who hasn't experienced the frontline," Rosshild had written.

However, in Klauberger's eyes, Rosshild was never cut out to be a soldier.

Klauberger had no doubt that Rosshild would not be sent to the Eastern Front. Sensing this possibility a month earlier, he had used his connections through Bormann to subtly influence Rosshild's superiors in France. Klauberger had implied that whoever agreed to send Lieutenant Rosshild to the Eastern Front would have the dubious 'honor' of personally escorting him there. This was Klauberger's way of ensuring Rosshild stayed away from the harsh realities of the Eastern Front, a decision driven by a deep-seated concern for Rosshild's well-being.

"Impossible," Bormann instantly rejected the unrealistic request from his capricious superior and retorted sarcastically, "Who do you think I am? A Marshal at the Staff Headquarters? Or the commander of the German forces in France? Sorry, but I am just a mere Lieutenant in the great Third Reich, stationed in the Netherlands."

"You'll find a way," Klauberger, feeling a bit guilty yet still adamant, insisted.

"Me? Even if I had, so to speak, my ways, what then? How do you propose I contact those German generals in France? Through those war field mail letters scrutinized countless times by the Gestapo? Or should I convey this delicate matter over the German Army's military wireless communication as an official document? My dear Lieutenant Klauberger, you must understand, any attempt to avoid the Eastern Front at this juncture would be interpreted as a passive attitude towards the Reich's cause and would lead straight to a concentration camp."

Bormann sneered as he sorted through the documents in his hands, displaying a demeanor that seemed to completely disregard his superior officer.

However, three days later, Bormann reluctantly indicated that there was an upcoming meeting in Berlin regarding the settlement system of military currencies used in various German-occupied territories. Senior generals from various occupied areas, especially from France, would be attending. He could, with some difficulty, attend the meeting as a representative of the German military-industrial conglomerate.

"Hopefully, by the time I return..." Bormann hadn't finished speaking when his elated superior officer dashed toward the stables, ready to indulge in his lifelong passion for horseback riding – a pursuit Klauberger always turned to for relief from stress.

But half an hour later, Klauberger, the major who had just experienced a chocolate bombardment, returned to his office looking disheveled and frustrated. Ignoring his adjutant's astonished gaze, he angrily grabbed the phone and passionately complained to the local Gestapo head about being ambushed near his camp.