片段地球

001 集

這是一個孩子的幻想，過去幾個星期在柏
林舉行。我知道這是真的，因為我還沒有達到
成年人誰能夠意識正在發生什麼，但我們明
白。這是一個假裝幻想成真了，在這裡，我們
正處於瘋狂的心，爭奪槍支和手榴彈，大砲攻
擊和轟炸。
在接下來的幻覺改造我的現實，我的職責
信使車送我到令人興奮的新地方，數月甚至數
週前只是我的鄰居，使我清醒不足以阻止瘋狂
的蔓延擁有我周圍的一切。
我參加了學校多年來在建築，站在我身後

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的今天，總部的夢想與邪惡的戰鬥。在一般商
店提取冰，我經常從我的母親現在擺在我的黑
暗和發光從低雲層反射火光通過其失踪的屋頂
和每一個新的爆炸怪異的陰影脈衝出可怕的窗
戶，我開始。這些都是偽造的，所有的惡夢產
卵，而我想他們會繼續這樣做的所有時間，儘
管我只是一個孩子，每一個新的喘氣，我提請
證實我還是這個夢想的主人。
郵件安全的背心口袋裡，我把我的使命開
始向領導掩體。運行小巷，並通過公園在那裡
我練這個遊戲在過去的夏天。迴避了街道，從
店鋪的一堆瓦礫，沒有一個可以看到這些天，
更不解決這個時間是早晨，除了我們的士兵。
至少我認為這是早上了。
坦克我眼睛躲在下面，我的下一次飛躍，
在昨日沒有。它的無生命的巨人站在高水位過
去紅軍的入侵使我顫抖起，在這個時刻的最佳
位置是理想的蓋在我的當前路徑。沒有前線，
沒有了。目前這條街和小巷裡，只有一個孩子
的想像力，繪製地圖這個戰場。
它不能，俄羅斯已經很近，因此這個最近
我想，我靠在打擊輪的陰燃池。每一次，我們
把他們回來，我們的消防融遠。

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你必須考慮你的腳就留在這個遊戲。生存
很簡單，帽簷上看到一個頭盔頭盔之前，看見
你，只活到快結束的早晨在我周圍。我知道每
個人一死。有些東西應該說這樣做的。我從來
不否認自己的特權陶醉在自己的死亡率。
在抵達 領導掩體，我爬成使者入口，一
個騙子在牆上被炸出不允許你看到或退出，直
到您違反通道，在那裡後，我發現我的沉默和
安全外園。
放慢自己的速度，我讓我的呼吸趕上我。
小心，我繼續把主要院子看守，一頭暈雕像的
一名男子可能是喝醉再次試圖阻止我。俺大聲
喝斥他：“把你的手離我，此消息是為赫
斯。”他不放手。我重複自己。
包括我的嘴，他說，“你太遲了。”
我不晚。我從不遲到。他繼續說，“赫斯
消失了。”
“ 去？ ” 我的共鳴，文字都使用這些天死
亡。沒有人死去了。他們只是去。 “去？”我再
說一遍，“你是什麼意思？”
“不，不，不是那種走了，”他回答說指向
天空，作為他的手指產生一個微小物體，飛機
提升了整個城市。 “ 走了， ” 他說， “ 在赫斯離

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開了，他走了南部，巴伐利亞。”
-----
“我沒有想到我還能讓你想辦法的時
候，”我說在高音引擎，“你可以忍受了英勇的
鬥爭。拜見希特勒，但你不能責怪自己，這一
結果。你做了一切正確的行動，在所有適當的
時候。命運的根本不與你這一個。“
回顧到安靜的思考過他的臉在黑暗的窗口
俯視著發光的廢墟到我們曾經繁榮首都下崩潰
弱點紅軍前進，我得出了他的反映。我可以看
到完全在這些失去了眼睛的困擾慾望一千征服
征服者。即使在戰敗，這個人是醉人。
“我可以做得更好漢娜，”打破沉默我的胡
言亂語。
“哦拜見希特勒”我接著說，“這有可能任
何其他方式？您仍然可以在最後的勝利。我相
信這一點。“
在和我滑稽利用每一個機會，我不敢自己
淹死在這反映。阿沾了翅膀使我的注意力回到
控制，我仍然在討論。他不可能知道我是這僅
僅輕型飛機飛行，看看我現在。我什麼時候
說？這有什麼關係？或者是我們聽嗎？
“我沒有好，最後一次，”他以驚人的熱情

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中斷搖晃出來回到他的座位。談到對我來說，
他似乎證明這一進一步評論。瞇眼我幫助他的
話只看到失敗的熟悉制服他的目光回了沉默的
判決，德國農村流下面我們。
我們通過我們的低飛行安全走廊，南舉行
了公開的成本，使許多人喪生。他是值得我不
知道為最短的時刻？但是沒有回答是，我不想
一，如果它。這不是我提出這樣的問題。我的
沉默罷工。
對我們的安全到達著陸現場，轟鳴的馬達
我以為我已經聾的任何內容赫斯表示，由於可
能對我們的做法，他喃喃自語的東西我不理
解，也不敢要求他重複。順利降落像有些夢想
結束擠粗草皮喚醒了我。
我的心跳再次作為後衛運行到飛機的一
側，打開大門。希特勒原來出去，但停止和再
回頭，看我的眼睛，他說，“原諒我。”我凍結
潺潺填補我的喉嚨，但無話可說的燕子。他傾
向於讓他的最後一句話，“我會做得更好。”
“我相信你會拜見希特勒，”我回答說在湧
出。
或者想我做到了。
我不能肯定地說我說任何事情。

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也許他不會。
-----
打亂了我的等待裝甲車，我們盪在農村地
區。 “最新的報告預測，紅軍在這裡可以在任
何時刻的意外表現疲軟，拜見希特勒說，”伴隨
希特勒黨衛軍軍官，“沒有一個失去第二過境我
們的目的地。”
感覺重量，去年的發言，我按下更快走向
最好的秘密戰爭的唯一拯救我可以想像我可能
會節省，短期逃西屈從於美國的軍隊。後面的
前線邊界的納粹第三帝國奠定我們的命運，在
那裡，我無意中在奴役資助無數的靈魂，它的
建立現在我擔心我們將很快加入他們看到他們
的淺墳走下長長的土路蜿蜒我現在開車去我們
的目標。阿孔是在牆壁內舉行之成為無法克服
的恐怖的防禦陣地沒有理性的軍隊可以臀位，
為防止獎品沒有理性的人可以拒絕。
在未來的第三帝國和蘇聯的勝利，現在流
血奠定在這個山城。外部防禦坐在準備作為遺
留精英黨衛軍放棄了自己的柏林防禦南方流入
我們後面。
柏林下跌。
這讓紅軍最高統帥朱可夫的失望，沒有發

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現希特勒在廢墟。看到這種欺騙的事實後，才
朱可夫把他的部隊向南對不僅對身體的抵抗留
在大德國。
我們。
我們抵達後，我們的部隊填補的站，為準
備搞分裂。
-----
在易北河和我司與美國第一軍奠定一〇〇
英里向西我的當前位置。他們應該只是開始了
他們計劃舉行的第一次抵達師，盟軍蘇聯紅
軍，標誌著勝利的遊行結束戰爭，但是這對我
來說，似乎永遠只是奠定以後的戰鬥。
站在這裡的綠色之間的丘陵西部尋找到捷
克斯洛伐克的波希米亞山區，直接阻礙著我
們，勝利，我提醒自己，共勝利，沒有例外。
像柏林戰役這個堡壘我們面前的將是完全紅軍
獎。
正如一位少數美國聯絡員嵌入式與他們協
調我們的滿足易北河上，我站在這裡見證了沒
完沒了的列紅軍士兵在追求這個以前難以想像
的，甚至一度神話，現在不可避免的現實障
礙。
該方法紅軍不是戰術的一個性質，紅軍沒

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有什麼秘密。儘管他們自卑多年的納粹黨衛軍
士兵經常地改為紅軍力量優勢，由於缺乏這種
微妙。紅軍實踐了自己的暱稱有一個獨特的解
決納粹不懈的花招，無休止的士兵和裝備。
斯大林站在團長，蘇維埃國家的又一勝
利，俄羅斯皇帝，要求作為唯一的任何戰鬥的
結果那些沒有成本過高獲得。紅軍在血液流入
追求斯大林的目標，如我軍歷史上沒有發生
過。蘇聯曾字面洗乾淨土壤中納粹佔領的俄羅
斯母親的血液乾淨的湧進百萬徵召農民，他們
打扮的士兵，並提交今天站在我面前。
觀看了紅軍在外地的，因為我看到在短短
幾個星期，我與他們一樣，看到緩慢痛苦的死
亡的一個自然的高貴的野獸。這是因為詩歌和
光榮，因為它是無知折磨看到這麼多的生命投
入火，以滿足不切實際的時間表一個暴君。紅
軍贏得了，但不知怎麼失去了所有的戰鬥，他
們都簽訂的是說，肯定沒有人反對軍隊遇到過
同樣的俄羅斯士兵兩次。
看著機械手臂紅軍到達現場是一個奇蹟的
話永遠無法描述正確。這在戰爭後期，他們在
心血來潮派出數以千計的坦克和大砲不可數，
但仍設法不能滿足他們的潛力，導致不斷預測

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回縮，以免破壞自己前進的部隊誰都能分享的
整體無能這次襲擊。一次一次，發現了納粹回
到自己的崗位準備見證下漲潮農業男童的血
液。
對於這一切是什麼，因為我不斷問自己？
為了讓不稱職的秘書長有權得到一個加權下獲
得更多的金屬成本在幾千人的生命或索回權統
治另一個人來說，只有在最後的死亡提供了他
們。
這就是看紅軍帶來，一個蔑視的方法這個
制度和膽汁上漲的發言，我的喉嚨這些我們的
盟友。我必須衡量每個字發言前，或風險的後
代結實的青年被刺穿刺刀我們自己的名稱在一
些人認為侮辱或背叛通過他們的指揮員的眼
睛。
收集我的想法只是短暫的故障我吞下我的
驕傲，集中我們的目標。這裡，現在這些俄羅
斯青年的兇手是兩害，雖然我確信我們會後悔
這種方便的盟友。這裡，現在是我們的機會，
用一個邪惡擺脫世界另一遠低於成本的1比我們
自己都可能會要我們試圖將他們兩人擺脫自
己。這是一個只有道德火災出售將不出席;每隔
傾向要求之一就是兩年多。

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紅軍砲兵開始射擊山堡壘的巨大力量的喜
歡，而我只是聽說過像雷暴在地平線上，而柏
林以南。這種緊密，部隊的大砲爆炸擊中我的
胸部，就像一個良好的癒合拳擊手。這是標準
作業程序，為紅軍打開每個圍困在這種方式，
就像標準，因為這是納粹的不銹鋼司生存這些
地面平整的攻擊大部分完好無損。
第二天早晨，紅軍再次襲擊。森林周圍的
堡壘，減少到樹樁和領域的前一天晚上的攻
勢，看到了納粹的外部防禦抹殺，然而，地形
的新的混沌單位仍然同樣可防禦，因此，舞蹈
等進行這麼多，但沒有收到這麼許多騎的結
果。
必然性展現在我的眼睛。我看了，因為我
不會拒絕，但這個場面是哭笑不得的破壞在催
眠的魅力。在結束一天看到了納粹軍隊取代樁
紅軍屍體太深漫步但即使這樣也不能阻止他們
前進的盔甲。類似這樣的事情不能再發生在我
自己我也尖叫起來，但無力改變這種災難的過
程。
朱可夫下令一波波的士兵死的多腳的地面
和每個進攻失敗未來繼續，因為它不能否認他
抬頭。他的邏輯進程是驚人的，他承認存在漏

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洞，這個人沒有想到根據自己的優點。斯大林
的手勒芒舉行的約束，朱可夫喜歡他的士兵們
無處可去，但前進。我可以閱讀這在他的眼
中，這是他的生命或他們的。
第二天，給他們帶來了最後。我們贏得了
業界的成本，在生活中，並很快被打亂帶走一
個同樣龐大的軍隊，以便不凝結流。有一個良
好的計劃，今天上午以應付未來的障礙擺在我
們面前，隧道防領導到山城將被征服，通過一
系列協調坦克攻擊。
“在斯大林- 2重型坦克，最近在蘇聯的阿
森納，”我的同行，阿列克謝對我說笑著，因為
這些怪物使他們在球場上亮相。沒有片刻下旬
我以為不是。這些坦克，幾乎固體塊鋼的唯一
區別大砲伸出來的大量砲塔將被令人詫異的
是，我們需要納粹沒有答案。
阿行這些前所未有的龐然大物隆隆過去我
們觀察到防空洞超過 100碼之外，我周圍的一
切都動搖。出發對隧道的入口每個坦克發射了
其最接近然後突然轉身旋轉外的的路，讓下一
個坦克一致的方法，火災，作為第一個向周圍
循環回線。
總的印象，但沒有看到很多的初步進展，

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並不太願意看到作為一個更大膽的努力變成另
一堆屍體。我的飢餓和我退出了我們的觀察
哨，負責備份的道路，新形成外地總部一頓
飯，一般觀察運營，我常常做。我的處理阿列
克謝，從來沒有超過一兩步我後面，不久也加
入了我們，我們發現我們的膳食。
至少我認為這是一餐。
由於缺乏來自前線的興奮和不願面對這一
餐不要分心下，我在尋找一些葉片之間的中間
立場的人死亡，望著空間，同時我考慮我的計
劃的攻擊嗆今天的不公平的自由。
目睹士兵被嘲笑他的警長，我的機會出
現。認定它是比較安全的辦法，警長，我們跟
著他從洲線，與一些選擇的外觀和意見，很快
就討論這個問題，他一直與他的弟子撤退和蔑
視。
據他所說，一個農場男孩的幻想：黨衛軍
士兵被槍殺只起床之後。對此，他繼續說，“可
能只是受傷或者其他焊料從同一方向，”看他傷
心的最後一次發言。他靠在悄悄地說：“我看到
了這一點。”
我看著警長用懷疑的眼光。他反駁
說：“這是確切的回應，我收到了我的隊

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長。”我微笑著搖搖頭，他的結論。 “所以我粉
碎這些謠言第一手資料，但實際上我已經看到
了我自己。”
暫停一分鐘，他環顧四周，仔細的帳篷。
“這是幾個月前，”他說，“我們之外的鐵路樞紐
備份的道路。我剛剛完成了我的子彈，我們有
週末可以休息，現在留在鐵路內部，當信使出
現了。他告訴我們，我們不得不把備份的道
路，以處理突發激增的抵抗戰士，納粹合作
者。我們沒有，有沒有拒絕或拖延訂單在我從
哪裡來，所以備份我們去的道路。“
漫步走向無人表角落的就餐區，我們都坐
下來和中士繼續說，“當我們到達現場沒有任何
理由可以看到在第一。隨後的一系列桿，正是
我們從一所房子上山。我們追求的。這是一個
很容易的鬥爭。我們只是失去了四名男子，他
們一打或更多。“
斜塔在略微接近，“馬厩的房子後面，我
狙擊手提請注意的幾桿後，引起地雷。他不停
地挑選球員在穀倉起飛。我坐在那裡，看著他
的每一個機會，而他作為了，他打出一個不銹
鋼的士兵。只是普通步兵你明白。我告訴他必
須有一個整體巢，他們在那裡，所以我們呼籲

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炮火支援。中午時分在幾個良好的投籃，穀倉
裡引爆的碎片。“
“因此，最後，當我們肯定很清楚，我們
走到了穀倉感到驕傲，因為可以和你能指望什
麼，我們發現？”
走火入魔，我眨了眨眼睛。
“一個孤獨的士兵，我們本來期望能發現
一具屍體堆，他在那裡，通過肋骨刺穿從部隊
砲兵的爆炸與其中的一個大收穫的工具，而是
為所有人我可以告訴沒有惡化了。我微笑著向
他開槍把他的胸部。他微笑。我國微笑倒在地
上，我打出了他好幾次。這傢伙不會死。每次
我槍殺了他，看上去就像我多衝你的手臂。“
“無論如何，”該名警長再次環顧四
周，“我們採取了俘虜他說：”更安靜，“送他回
去提出，這就是我最後一次聽說這件事。但是
為了這一天的詞是從頂部扼殺這些虛假的失敗
主義的謠言。我做的。“
我意識到我自己了。阿有點太全神貫注在
他的故事，發現自己，就目前而言，相信它。
我看著我的處理對他們有阿列克謝早已完成了
他一頓，現在快睡著時，顯然不感興趣。我問
警長“，這並非罕見的故事呢？”

14
 片段地球

他皺起了眉頭，點點頭，說：“這是我下
崽線索，回到前面，高興與你聊天。”
“很高興認識你，”我說了一個眼色。
他沒有微笑。
鬆弛法我的夥伴，我們起身走出門背後的
警長。阿列克謝的帶領下，緩慢然後停止與外
界的卡車停，轉身說：“這不是最聰明的事在這
裡。”
我回答說笑著，“我不是在這裡。”
他笑著繼續說，“只是要記住，真理是一
個危險的武器，這裡沒有人再危險的需求比我
們已經有了。為我們的緣故吧。“
我點點頭，“當然，同志。讓我們回到安
全的戰鬥之後，看看它們是如何做的。“
我的諷刺拮抗阿列克謝繼續談論我們步行
回觀察掩體，“真理不分先後次序毫無意義”，
他大膽表示。
我翻查喜歡我聽。他說，沒有別的，所以
我問，“你不覺得真理是一個錨，否則在一個混
亂的世界？”
“誰的真相將錨我嗎？”他回答說。
我沒說什麼，並以我真空，他繼續
說，“你有一個最低的兩個真理，即使在最好的

15
 S.S.H.U.T.

情況：真相的人誰是權利和真相的人誰是錯誤
的。的能力來決定的區別，就是從我們的優先
事項，確定了我們;是非。沒有我們的首要任
務，我們不能說有任何程度的確定性的權利是
否存在的。沒有它，我們只是兩個人，各講自
己的版本的一個事件。它是與優先觀察員，我
們定義一個以上的正確性，並通過一些其他任
意優先，我們決定什麼是真理。“
我走在沉默了幾分鐘前批駁，“真理，我
是多數人能夠達成一致。真理是經過一段時間
測試，不能否認，直到不符合事實的測試，那
麼被修改以彌補其不足之處。真相仍然是目
標，儘管它遇到的負擔。我們並不總是知道真
相，我們尋求和我們的道路，這是很少對直，
但我們追求的是沒有少，而且所有的更好，更
明智的是我們失敗的考驗的部隊，我們忍受。“
“所以，你的首要任務是真理？”阿列克謝
結束。
在我們走在相互混淆的沉默，對唯一的真
理，我們都知道在等待我們，而只是我似乎害
怕一個新接觸的繼續這一野蠻天。我想知道我
為什麼即使在這裡，這不是我所報名參加，每
一步我把給我帶來了一大步看到的東西我可能

16
 片段地球

再也不會忘記。
又是一個下午，小心翼翼地不注意吸煙洞
的一側山擺在我們面前。紅軍違反了隧道，而
我是過去了，內內被打報告什麼粗略舉行，一
個巨大的和防禦良好的洞穴深處的山區，以暗
示進一步扼殺帳戶的男子，黨衛軍士兵，而不
是在他們死亡假設的。
由於阿列克謝曾建議，我駁斥了這些謠言
的幻想，是否為了他單獨，或不相信我自己的
嘮叨了這種可能性，或者僅僅是因為這些信息
不採取行動，從我的位置，我讓這些新奇好玩
的，不再通過中斷。
但在我心目中，權利與傳聞一度存在的非
常堡壘我現在站在前面，我知道的共識並不簡
單。作為流行的神話被解僱由總參謀部，頻率
這些報告是不容忽視。 “什麼罕見英勇這些男
人，”朱可夫據說說，“我可以做的與男子的口
徑。”
這是在午夜後才以及一系列的尖叫聲和噴
煙再次提醒我們注意，我們都抬起頭，看到另
一個形象，可能會困擾我很好，我死過去。為
什麼我在這裡？我尖叫在我的頭，我挖我的手
掌在我的眼窩不夠深入，我可能最終會失明這

17
 S.S.H.U.T.

一恐怖。
清晨從的消息傳出。我們在控制隧道及毗
鄰洞穴。我沒有問成本，我不能忍受我知道全
部真相的我親眼目睹，也許我以前的調查作出
了扼殺我謹慎我要問我的主機。這一仗已接近
尾聲，這是足以讓我和堡壘衛隊萎縮可以明顯
看到，他們會被殺死，這些謠言的東西農場男
孩的幻想。納粹的無敵不銹鋼在逐漸成為歷史
終於。
希特勒當晚被抓獲。活著！
我不是朱可夫附近襲擊的消息時，但我知
道這一刻是一個巨大的機會。他的自我將是我
的票堡壘內履行我的角色。快速移動，我的融
合點上，我知道他就必須穿過到達門口，果
然，當他走近我是在他的橫掃後作為唯一可以
肯定更令人滿意比1戰勝了敵人，是證人及其對
帳戶並堡壘我去。
我的頭腦比賽速度比我的脈搏，我吸收了
每一個細節，我看到了。這山城是傳說中的東
西是天生的我認為，作為我跟著朱可夫的隨行
人員了長隧道內的山區。
這位官員是不符合當然，我也沒有預料
的，但死亡人數須在其未來的希望舉行捕獲並

18
 片段地球

作為最後幾天的戰爭開始做會的搶劫，這在我
的戰術目的，是在我來到上下功夫，注意這類
技術。
我們短暫的上漲之後，我們進入了第一
院。巨大海綿狀空間開闢了我之前想我已經走
到外面，我才再次抬起頭來，我發現，沒有明
星，我們可以看到上面，也沒有任何的上限我
可以看出透過煙霧。
廣大地板覆蓋的洞穴是在一個大部分被摧
毀的坦克迷宮陷阱和鐵絲網隔開我們的障礙，
從多層次的結構穿著燒毀，機槍和火砲陣地巢
形成對面牆上。到左側，明亮的燈光照耀從隧
道旁邊的大門被炸飛的鉸鏈。這是對我們黨有
鑑於此進展。
除了銀行的金庫大門仍然像蹣跚地走在最
後的鉸鏈，按下打開了裝甲車寄希望於它在牆
上顯示，一個隧道兩旁每邊窗下通過它您可以
看到閃爍的水過濾光。
通過這種好奇心的大眼睛沉默每個成員朱
可夫黨通過減輕他們難以置信的景象到下一代
人，因為他們步入更熟悉安全的花崗岩圍牆第
二院以後。 “一個巨大的球體懸浮在液體殼大
約 10 米深 ” 的官，領導方式茹科夫說，我們進

19
 S.S.H.U.T.

入。
被忽視或不關心我的存在，我繼續跟著他
們通過第二個更複雜的室長走廊下周圍的角落
裡坐下第二長走廊了十多個航班沿著另一條樓
梯過道成了一個巨大的房間通往另一房間的左
側。
該警衛攔住了我在這一點上。朱可夫，但
在我前面，走進房間，停在邊緣我視線。我可
以看到他站在那裡，但我不能看到更多，而我
走到一邊，他的後衛捅我的肋骨用槍托，這是
據我正要。朱可夫喃喃聽力理解的東西為我身
體前傾，語氣幾乎尊重他的話我跳舞。看守把
在此，我也下滑的權利和捕獲視線鑑於朱可夫
的三角採石場。
在那裡，他是一個短期老人，逗趣鬍鬚是
唯一可識別的標記，我需要。他坦率地不看的
部分，他們永遠不會做。突然大喊德國扎了我
的耳膜。這是希特勒的所有正確的，什麼聲
音，這名男子周圍所有的人指揮。我很驚訝地
看到朱可夫沒有落入線在他身後為他叫聲呼應
關閉花崗岩石牆，我知道我覺得，像一些崇高
的力量，拉我脫軌。
的呼喊繼續，它的日益高漲和更多的終

20
 片段地球

端。什麼是未來的，而根據希特勒的喊我聽到
一個聲音在俄羅斯第二次說：“我告訴你這是真
的！你不相信我說：“朱可夫上校走過去，”看
看他的鮮血。這是他的血。看他是否受傷？“
現在的上校站在朱可夫盯著前面專心在懷
疑他的指揮官的眼睛慢慢地轉向他，他拔出手
槍回應，轉過身來，並發射了一次，兩次，希
特勒下跌。朱可夫只管上校和他的警衛迅速圍
攻他。
希特勒躺在那裡。我提出了加強。他流了
很多血，躺在一池血液。他被擊中嚴重。上校
喊道：“看他！”從樁的警衛，然後它發生。希
特勒下滑約 1位尋找牽引力。朱可夫，每個人
都在房間裡回了一步，如果沒有精神上身體和
盯著他再次上升，如隨後高呼。
這聽起來象許多發言，我聽到了廣播電台
從我以前在英國。這個人是不死或堅不可摧
的，是他超自然？難道他一直是救主，使許多
人認為他可能是什麼？他當然指揮一個房間不
夠好，但磁一邊是我看到什麼？怎麼會這樣
呢？
朱可夫不滿意，他看到什麼拉他的手槍，
瞄準穩定在希特勒的肩膀上，房間裡沉默了。

21
 S.S.H.U.T.

秒打勾的像分鐘。他是否防火？難道我錯過？
咚！每個人都棄除希特勒回落，但誰抓住自
己。鮮血滴在地上，從他的傷口抑制制服了更
高的位置，比以前，然後振作受槍傷，他恢復
了鎮靜抬起頭來，並期待在我們確認了朱可夫
的不滿意，他皺著眉頭的發射，一次又一次，
直到他的手槍空。
煙霧充滿了整個房間。希特勒對奠定後
牆，呼吸。他呼吸。我呼吸。我們都呼吸。朱
可夫加載。我提出了加強。朱可夫站在低頭看
著自己的開放式手槍作出某些子彈似乎覺得夠
多裝到玻璃杯恰到好處，鎖定的左輪手槍，他
目不斜視，但希特勒仍躺在地板上。朱可夫低
下頭靠在說了幾句話幾乎耳語我沒有聽到，但
他的崇高聲音擴大希特勒的眼睛。
在這些詞'希特勒慢慢站起來。高高在收
集自己，他的頭髮拉直到錯誤的一邊一如既
往，調整他的制服，並期待正前方。茹科夫向
後退了幾步。遵守了手頭但誰是為誰服務？也
許達成一項諒解。我走進回來了。希特勒站在
樹立和承擔的法西斯敬禮之後，一個良好的咆
哮我們，海爾。
朱可夫盤旋走向我注視他的槍。我看了驚

22
 片段地球

訝與緊張，朱可夫給希特勒是他的最後時刻，
反之亦然？看到一名警衛用機槍，隨時準備應
失敗將在我們之上。朱可夫發現他的標記，排
隊和希特勒下跌。他沒有倒下，但看起來最有
各種各樣的事件。
我望著他的皺紋的額頭。我們都看著他的
宗教裁判所。沒有人看著他錯過了這個改變舉
止。磁走了。他站在那裡垂頭喪氣，並第一次
看傻眼只是在地面，然後在每一個我們。朱可
夫列隊集中於希特勒。希特勒的目光很快就發
現朱可夫。
一名警衛從外部介入並說了一些私下的朱
可夫。保安員再次離開。
朱可夫舉起武器瞄準了希特勒的頭開槍。
希特勒的子彈擊中額頭正上方兩眼之間，他像
一個下跌的衣服口袋。房間內凍結，像照片事
件作為一個單線圈的黑煙下線他的槍的槍管，
除了我自己的心，我沒有聽到它的痛楚。
我們盯著車體變形的希特勒，但沒有動。
血池下面。我們看了又看，凝視。
它結束了。人們不會誤解這一刻，不可能
這麼多年，無數人被殺害每方的瘋狂男子他們
辯護，並在這第二，精神錯亂不見了。

23
 S.S.H.U.T.

幾分鐘過去了沉默。
朱可夫，仍然站在我前面低頭看著自己的
剋星下降，其他回落勝利，離開我們，被困產
生的巨大引力從身體最後的房間。我想這樣
做，但不能。我的腿也不會這麼多的抽搐。這
是一個歷史時刻，其他一些國家一樣，我呼吸
的每一個細節。
只是短短的一尊雕像成為朱可夫向後退了
幾步，打開了他的腳後跟，並走到出口處，他
通過他生硬地說，“這從未發生過。”
我現在的雕像。
--
“中尉”的旗號，我大聲的影子站在門口以
後在最後的大廳裡，“中尉”沒有反應來。散步
進一步下降的花崗岩圍牆大廳的堡壘和進入房
間，我說：“中尉，我們必須去。現在！本司是
走出去！“
美國的頭暈聯絡看著我，“我們的部
門？”他說：“我認為你是錯誤的同志。本司位
於泥下，該字段那裡。本司將一事無成。“
“中尉，我們必須去，”我說我的牙齒，通
過測量每一個字，但看到沒有反應值得注意我
抓住他的胳膊，把他拖到樓下與我。他跟只有

24
 片段地球

不斷努力，這褪色的每一步。 “希特勒死
了，”我說，“他們發現他的屍體在領導掩體在
柏林，戰爭已經結束。本司正在向易北河上按
計劃，在我們的職責要求我們協調我們的滿足
與美軍的第一。“
美國聯絡吸引住了說： “ 這血池回到那
裡。這是〜“
“〜不，它是不是！”我回答說我保持嚴厲
口吻說：“我沒有時間去了這點。如果你想活到
這一天結束，我們要離開這裡了！“他的腳步加
快了這些話，我們把我們的出路堡壘到大洞，
這裡有成千上萬的屍體德國和俄羅斯正在堆積
像木柴。
走下長長的隧道，我們快過去部隊仍加強
清理碎片的戰鬥。白天穿在我的眼睛，因為我
們出現了。持續了道路的外地總部，我走了進
去簡要訂單和鍵有一輛私家車與我的駕駛我的
同行趕上本司已在路線易北河。
回到找到我的收費站在同一地點，但回首
山堡壘他知道的東西也將是最後一次。看著拖
拉機拖車已經在現場我們的坦克，知道的屍體
幾乎已經實現，到今年年底，這一天都將有發
生過。我停下了一會兒，讓無可避免的通過。

25
 S.S.H.U.T.

橫幅看著我說：“你們是不是啞巴，你看
你好嗎？”
我笑他的天真和可預見的推開他，回答正
確的方向，“只有你一樣糊塗想像。”他回頭看
我的簡短的幾秒鐘，我走過去他和我們的快四
步恢復向一輛汽車。
在道路上，我們坐在沉默一陣子。平定的
預測發出喉音電機的，我知道後面的困惑皺眉
頭，他早上重播的事件反复在他心中燃燒他們
到位，但它不會做他任何好處。他們沒有回
來，他們的知識並不能惠及他的任何進一步。
我安慰他的沉默只是說，“歡迎生命與紅軍。”
他哼了一聲，“這樣？”
我回答說，“你什麼也沒看到。”
“但是〜”
“ 〜你什麼都不知道。 ” 其餘的-2056不加
評論。
我放下他把我們到達時，本司指揮車。他
說，他沒有離開汽車。我知道他的理解，並說
這裡是我的職責了。我的匯報布雷斯勞被分配
到英國來填補我的位置上，紅軍的工作人員打
我的一小部分在協調立場，下降了盟軍在歐
洲，我遲到。

26
 片段地球

這是每個人的時間緊張。歐洲有超過千萬
全副武裝的慣不驚了部隊，沒有明確的目的或
目標，絲毫誤解可能是災難性的。信託基金是
在短期供應的隊伍收緊到什麼最希望將是最後
幾個小時的戰爭。為了確保這是，他們需要人
的第一手經驗和接觸，向他們提供意見。不是
每個人都高興地看到結束這場戰爭，但它必須
結束，替代是不可想像的。
花了大量時間駕駛對赤潮的男子和機仍然
向西流的，我實現了我們的空軍基地，在波蘭
當晚及時趕上運輸機。我們拿起一個美國戰鬥
機護航，我們飛回了德國，看著它向上和向下
浮動窗外幾分鐘，我認為現在存在著美好的生
活。
當我醒來，這是黑暗的四周，沒有噪音。
我是唯一一次登上擁擠的飛機。我可以看到什
麼外面以為我在做夢，或者更糟。不過累了，
我卷到一邊，回去睡覺。當我再次醒來，這是
同樣的場景我周圍的黑暗的。無噪音。沒有
人。我走到我的打火機，與它的內部照明，飛
機，我的初步意見是正確的。有沒有人了解。
我看著左，右前面和後面，我一個人。我試圖
望著窗外，但只看到了疲憊的士兵回頭看英寸

27
 S.S.H.U.T.

考慮是否要回去睡覺，使這個意義時，有
更多的資料，是有意義的，我決定一定有人需
要我的地方。身高，我在我的方式，通過在黑
暗到前面的飛機，找到了一個開放的門，走下
地面，感覺是一個平穩的水泥地上。我環顧四
周，在黑暗中看到大綱其他飛機，這是一個好
兆頭，在距離我看到微弱的光線透過窗戶霧。
阿庫是我要，但除了這個，我知道多懷疑我是
在英國。
走出飛機庫我出現一個大平面上跑道的飛
機在這裡和那裡點綴其中多數我不認識。是
的，我告訴自己，這必須是英格蘭。我有我的
附近縮小了，而是哪裡何去何從？綜觀黑暗的
任何領域的一般活動，我看到了沒有。有一個
亮度來自以後的建設走向的光，使基本的本能
似乎是，舉行如此尖銳喊叫直到我身後的男子
喊道：“停止！”我沒有。
周圍的腳步移動對我的面前，問： “ 名
字？”
“ 少 校 阿 列 克 謝 Misostov 紅 軍 ， ” 我 回
答。
他沉默不語，然後說在糊塗語氣，“你能
再說一遍，好嗎？”我做的，他回答說：“請你

28
 片段地球

站你在哪裡”，他就引爆兩起爆炸產生的哨子另
一名看守走出黑暗誰與他會合。
他們討論了現實的俄羅斯正就基地，並得
出結論，我可能應該是在這裡，但沒有更多的
知情權，我以我所想的是在這裡做。新的後衛
刪除了無線電台從他的包，走出幾步之遙。第
一後衛不好意思地笑了我，很快把他的目光對
幫助他的搭檔。在第二個警衛回報，他遞給我
一張黃牌說：“這是一個好到天亮。顯示它需要
的地方。“
我剛剛幾個問題仍然必須回答的問題，但
我不認為這兩項舉行的任何更多的答案則較明
顯。感謝他們，他們走開了相反的方向離開我
站在看著外面開放機場。失落的時刻，都完全
沒有方向的人試圖射殺我變得十分明顯。餘聞
到空氣中。這是不錯的。
回顧機庫，然後離開該建築物為總部表
示，我認為我是在友好的領土，而是戰爭的規
則似乎仍然適用：如果你不知道你在哪裡，你
應該返回到最後一點你知道你在那裡，等待更
多的信息。我做到了。
進入回飛機棚，我漫步在更大型的飛機之
間沒有立即承認，我已經離開了。 “啊，是

29
 S.S.H.U.T.

的。這看起來很熟悉，“我說，在呼吸。重新輸
入，我發現我的座位旁舉行了棕色挎包包偽裝
根據新按下禮服。袋發現三個相關項目：一張
地圖，一些文件和我猜是英國的貨幣。
隨著挎包和統一捲起腋下，我再次離開機
庫，使我的方式對一枝獨秀的黑暗的機場。隨
著我的方式我發現另一個隊伍的警衛，並迅速
玩弄我的負荷通過我的口袋裡摸索產生一個黃
色的安全通行證的重點手電筒。點點頭，我微
笑並通過不受干擾。
該辦公室以外的光線吸引了我，是相當不
切實際建設有窗戶，通過這些斜視忙於工作的
人發現裡面。餘徘徊的前門了一會兒，要收集
我的想法和考慮我自己的時間，我在這裡要
求。重新審視我的新書包和地圖，我想這是我
應該開始。
介紹我自己的前台文員，他們在與我搭話
短目視檢查，可能更多是出於好奇比別的我
說，“你能直接我怎麼去這個位置嗎？”我指著
地圖，“這將似乎〜“
“〜是的，”他打斷，“你上了俄羅斯很多
沒有你。他們沒有說更多的將是如下。我會安
排一名司機和車沿很快。有一個座位，請它不

30
 片段地球

應該，但超過 20分鐘。“
關於這一點，他以為我被告知，回到他的
工作不會延誤。他們沒有出現應接不暇，所以
我離開他，並走回向等候區。
而且它是。坐下來，我拿起報紙附有照片
的人我剛剛看到正在開展的堡壘。 '希特勒死了
的標題是，它下面的人奠定了非常我見過的槍
傷在前額，希特勒的照片被關押他的上述證明
誰不承認他的愚蠢的鬍子。 “內發現的領導掩
體在柏林舉行。顯然死於自己造成的槍傷，“它
說。
我繼續讀，儘管我的體重越來越明顯皺
眉;看就像我是讀無論如何，我的眼睛一直跟著
的話，我的心情閱讀，但它沒有問題。這一切
都不是真的。
最後 逗樂什麼我的注意力從我的厭惡是
沒有事實是否真的有問題呢？希特勒死了。這
個真理是不是足夠？是的方法和時間，地點和
環境非常重要，知道這些具體細節可能會改變
歷史，解釋現實？不要讓事實的方式獲得的真
理我的教育告訴我。
而我的皺眉微笑在考慮我會拿起筆和修改
這篇文章更準確的考慮如何希特勒的屍體後來

31
 S.S.H.U.T.

被發現在這樣一個政治上有利的位置。我微笑
皺眉轉身倒顯而易見的痛苦，在實現誰可以成
為這樣的調整？誰能夠有可能受益於一個人的
回憶的事件，對官方所規定的真相在這數以百
萬計的報紙和現在一樣在世界各地流？在這裡
的一個 更改農村英格蘭將一事無成。
準確的信息是只有強大的地方，廣泛採取
行動，我想，因為在戰場上。電源這裡，是任
何信息傳播質量。
就沒有改正。這是真理，誰送達最好沒有
關係。對真理的謊言是，它真的不為任何人誰
要緊的例外斯大林的令人難以置信的自我膨脹
的謙虛。這名男子是正確的一切事物在我們的
土地，任何事情他是不對的投入大約是通過積
極工作，直到新形式證明了如何正確斯大林曾
經在首位。這是生活在蘇聯的社會主義。
這是蘇聯在西方的新聞真相。這一切，都
開放源碼軟件的美國情報人員對生活在恐懼，
別人口授的官方世界事件的真相。
我查閱了從我的十字軍東征為真理，而生
活和死亡的這把椅子作為一個小的男子走進辦
公室，並要求在一個大的聲音，“你打電話
嗎？”忙店員指著我中只能向他的恢復該跳舞小

32
 片段地球

人走向我說，“你知道你是領導，或者我應該相
信你嗎？”我遞給他的地圖。
“謝謝，我應該推定，跟我來。你有什麼
行李？“他問我們通過的大門。
“只有我所攜帶，”我回答。
灰色吉普車外面等著我們。到達機場門
口，我提出我的文件，我們通過輕鬆進入英國
鄉村。 “無菸'時間，如果你有 ' 時間， ” 司機
說，我們沿著狹窄的隆隆對沖兩旁的道路。我
沒有，因此不會。 “你不介意我這樣做，”他繼
續說。問自己，這是一個問題或一個建議，他
繼續在我沒有反對。
該硬盤繁忙的早晨涼爽的空氣給我留下了
尋找一個加熱器，我參與並醉心英寸這是一個
活躍而美麗的早晨，太陽已經顯示，我想我聽
到鳥兒鳴叫，我們通過了最後樹林樹木。戰爭
免費的，它打我了。我周圍的一切都被戰爭的
自由。我笑了。
該司機再次發言， “ 你能相信這是真的
呢？”，因為我的微笑點頭。他繼續說，“什麼
是戰爭。是你在整個節目？ “ 我又點了點頭。
“不是我，”他回答說：“我剛來到這裡，沒有看
到一盎司的戰鬥。它是粗？“我的權利和推遲一

33
 S.S.H.U.T.

眼又點了點頭。 “是啊，這是他們告訴我。我
開了很多周圍的人。我住這場戰爭主要是通過
他們，並在有你在最糟糕的嗎？“
我試圖量化回答他的問題保持沉默，但我
決定的失敗。內容雖然我與我的沉默，它沒有
參加與這一個，他下定決心要找到更多關於
我。阿幾分鐘前通過他再次請求的，雖然我沒
有聽到他的第一次。而我發現我，對我非常
的，不情願地回答，“我們有一些難以穿過奧得
河，重防禦準備在柏林和相當大的損失我們的
一部分。”
現在，他靜靜地坐了一會兒，也許是考慮
我的性質和短期可接受模糊答复，說：“你們似
乎總是獲得通過的最後階段。我的意思是你哇
顯示和所有。偉大的工作，從我個人。“
“這些坦克你們呢？”他接著說：“是大家
都在談論圍著桌子在我家裡。那麼，我們有一
個像樣的小坦克殺手級的M - 4相比，但沒有你
的那些傢伙有禽獸。的JS - 2，我相信它被稱為
是不是？不會採取太多的人把那些納粹雜種在
自己的位置我打賭？你看到很多了嗎？“
裡面我微笑著在這個司機熟練地進行了對
話閒聊，但我想掙脫它沒有發生任何事故和這

34
 片段地球

樣做的唯一途徑，我知道可能。環顧在流媒體
領域的空白過去我們已經注意到，我們大約是
孤立的，因為這一點，而我一直以來我們第一
次見面，我確信，他看到我看他感到不安的問
題，進而提出，“周圍沒有看到任何人在一段時
間。您確定這是你想要？“
該驅動程序沒有說什麼，其餘的為我們此
行，我很快發現自己在路邊一個比較好的外部
尋找酒店。 “這是它。享受您的逗留期間，“他
也許會說，但我有我的到來，但有一件事記：
早餐和熱水澡，或者洗澡，然後再早餐。沿著
進入酒店，沒有一個字是說出來的門房兩側
我，指導我對他們的房間，要求在軍營，他離
開我，我明顯的職責。
沐浴剃光，吃掉。我便我的下一個目的
地，盟軍總區總部副官之後我拿起了餐廳。當
我到達時，主要活動作了準備進行。雖然我等
著，我聽取並聽取，我會聯繫我的代表與我現
在的紅軍師在德國的方法和聯絡細節上與美國
一軍。
這個簡單的足夠的情況將可能是最高度緊
張的時刻，這場戰爭。有可能是零傷亡，其執
行，因為它很可能其餘的納粹軍隊會被推向非

35
 S.S.H.U.T.

常那個地方我們遇到了這樣的話，可能會有相
當大的干擾，我們付出的成本，如果他們得到
了我們射擊我們的盟友。
這種情況的兩個盟軍作戰互相反對共同的
敵人，但從來沒有在同一領域的鬥爭，很快就
會出亂子，我們應履行的不利情況。尤其是考
慮到傳奇偏執對雙方共享對方的政治議程。灌
裝我的角色終於，我通過無線電向我司聯繫，
美國聯絡橫幅。 “你好阿列克謝！”他熱情地迎
接了我。
“你好喬納森，”我回答說，“這裡是你司
舉辦的坐標。其次是你的偵察小組的方式載
體，終於承認你的射擊模式，你應該遇到阻
力。“
-----
聽到我的老朋友，在另一端的無線電，令
人感到欣慰，因為他已經消失快於預期。我複
製了他的坐標回答，“理解。童軍團隊正準備主
動向您的訂單，“我雙重檢查我塗鴉被分配到紅
軍信使。
阿列克謝說：“你可以派你的偵察兵了。”
“謝謝你阿列克謝，”我說，“我會留下我
的地址與您的師的指揮。來看我的一天。“

36
 片段地球

“事實上同志，對進出。”
出發前鋒對易北河，我所接觸的我的球
探。他們沒有遇到阻力，非常謹慎，我們一起
推動的。我們抵達大橋使我們面對著同樣謹慎
的和明顯的前瞻性帶過河。尋找熟悉，一個單
一的大綱更吸引我，一個幾乎被人遺忘的朋
友。他笑了。
正是在這種方式，我們兩國的軍隊，已接
觸到所有在德國的前一周，我們的到來，最後
這個巨大的齒拉鍊封閉一個統一的歐洲。根據
我們對和平的旗幟，經過這麼多年的可怕戰
爭，暴政被打敗，我的工作在這裡完成了。
說再見，我的俄羅斯同志，然後運往歐
洲，我被送往回家之前，我司的更多情況匯
報，這一次與開放源碼軟件在華盛頓我猜想，
他們希望更多的細節希特勒的死亡和堡壘的長
處和短處，但像其餘的，他們也沒有興趣在一
個人的不可思議的經驗。我沒有把它所有的文
件，但更多的時候，我講這個故事聽起來的瘋
狂。
最重要的是他們似乎是，蘇聯沒有什麼，
我們還不知道有關。我試圖說服我的採訪時
說，這些都是很好的人，我是不同意他們的關

37
 S.S.H.U.T.

注，從我看到了紅軍的意圖向我們走來。這給
了他們一點安慰，因為他們顯然不相信我相信
俄羅斯人民應該自覺地擴展到他們的上級。不
知怎的，我懷疑我的面試者喜歡的東西感覺良
好，不過，感覺很好不填寫的金庫。
再回到我們去的基礎。 “有多少和〜”
-----
“〜當你第一次看到這些？”我問的最後一
次。
完成我的質疑聯絡我微笑著說，“中將橫
幅以及你能相信這是真的呢？”
他抬起頭說：“我可以。不過，這將是之
前的某個時候我的腦子也沒有。“
我笑了，他走出了房間。
我有四個當天的調校，但趕到樓上自己的
老闆匯報。攔住他的秘書，我等待著他們的辦
公室外輪到我。
我讀的報紙仍然在等待報告對這場戰爭
的。他們無法獲得足夠的它顯然是今天的頭條
新聞自豪地宣布，我們已經引起德國 火箭科學
家的機智。這是木已成舟兩個月前，我得意地
笑，但很好的頭條走出最終，我想。
讓我們看看有多少使到的文件我想我閱

38
 片段地球

讀。 500名德國最珍貴的火箭科學家都來到美
國。我敢打賭對蘇聯人耿耿於懷，一個我笑
了，但我知道這裡面的標題將要求把蘇聯的資
源為他們的搜索，標題是我們最大的敵人。
正如我閱讀，語音德國首席火箭科學家維
爾納馮布勞恩希望我們的夢想野生眼睛的男子
的生活空間和他的奉獻他的新家園美，我想什
麼是真的在德國在這一刻。
當然這是可怕的可喜捍衛世界的暴政，同
不公正現象，我們長期免費交朋友的盟友，聲
稱自己作為一個超級大國和燃料經濟與戰爭美
元要振作走出低迷，成為世界經濟大繁榮。但
在結束真正讓人在德國現在是我們去的唯一理
由。
繪圖板就是它的名字：奪取戰爭的德國生
產資產。他們最近的行動是不夠的理由全州沒
收一切可稱為一種武器：藥品，電廠，合成油
提煉，戰爭機器和任何其他的發展，我們可能
偶然發現俄國人之前，公平的遊戲。德國人幾
年甚至幾十年前我們在許多領域，為使自己成
為一個情況，我們可以簡單地走建設，以建設
填補我們的口袋，被，以及它是如何征服征服
者的。

39
 S.S.H.U.T.

從第一次接觸火箭進入太空的超音速空氣
工藝建造的膠合板，從核反應堆的直升機，噴
氣式戰鬥機和轟炸機的飛翼隱形飛機和導彈，
從計算機到電子眼。世界坐在等待這個雪崩的
發展，本世紀未來的產業重點的繪圖板德國。
納粹已經沒有多大關係的發展，但任何人也不
斷得分後，遊戲結束了。他們這一切。
沒有正確的。我們有這一切，和良好的自
由和民主，我們在那裡得到每最後一塊前的俄
羅斯人。我的老闆們不會說，下一次戰爭開始
的瞬間希特勒死亡：德國，剝離核心，變成一
個農業社會，沒有世界的威脅，再次，我們有
俄羅斯人，動輒利潤從沒收的戰爭賠償。
最後，遭到了老闆的辦公室我填寫他們什
麼，我知道這是迄今在不大的形式事實，但我
們有一個山區建設的猜測。 ，我只想了解他們
的需要是什麼，回到我的職責。
-----
“好孩子。”
“他是新的嗎？”作答Cholmers。
“是啊這是弗蘭克的兒子，”我說。
“弗蘭克從樓下？”
“第從士氣行動。“

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 片段地球

“哦，是的。”
瞬間通過，正如Cholmers拼命尋找一種
面對自己的記憶，以確保他的說法，他知道我
們說的，在我打斷，“我們的名稱的變更，通過
即將到來，你聽到了最新的？”我說妄圖把他送
回他漫無目的地看。
對此，他皺著眉頭回我說，“他們將提前
與該呢？”
笑我說：“累是何等經常聽到它的開放源
碼軟件被稱為'噢的SS'？我不喜歡有聯繫，無論
如何也與希特勒的舒茨梯隊。“
“ 難 以 忽 視 這 一 點 。 ” Cholmers 回 答
說：“希特勒應該徵詢我們的意見，然後再調用
他的樂隊暴徒的 SS。那麼是什麼不銹鋼主張
呢？嗯。不知道舒茨是什麼意思？“
“我不知道。”我說，“這是德國的東
西。”我等著他的臉展現出的反應，而是看到了
沒有，“℃〜本人〜阿〜。那麼，你認為
Cholmers？“
“要採取的某個時候得到利用，℃〜我〜
阿〜，”他回答說，他回望著對我的上限。我翻
查想知道什麼，他看到那裡。 “為什麼的'C'老
闆？是否有一個較偏遠的智商，而不是我們自

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 S.S.H.U.T.

己，我們必須區分自己的？“
“我們希望不會 Cholmers，讓我們希望
不會。”我們都在注視著徒勞的。
“怎麼樣關閉澤？”Cholmers說，“我們在
現場了嗎？他們是否能保持我們的第一手通知
或通過中央司令部？“
“我預計，我們就在我們說話的方式，”我
回答，“他們讓我更好地了解第一手資料，這是
我的主意，開始水下監視蘇聯佔領的港口和我
在巨大的風險訂購這項任務對所有其他建議。
因此，當它顯示的利益，你和我最好準備行
動，勝過了任何人以信譽。我不想成為最後一
人符合乞討的事實時，這棵樹結出果實。“
“下一場戰爭已經開始，我的老朋友，”我
繼續說，“它是水下。在那裡，現在躺在關閉德
國北部海岸計算補給艦向下移動的蘇俄。盟國
不知道下一步的行動將是他們不知道某些直到
我們告訴他們。“
“我的列日輝煌。”
我回來一看死泛迴避他的諷刺與剛好皺眉
頭不妨礙他的恭維。
“那麼，有巴伐利亞堡壘？”他問。
我盯著進入太空仍然陶醉在他的意見，堡

42
 片段地球

壘 “ 不 侵 略 西 歐 明 天 Cholmers 。 如 果 它 的 存
在，它就會等待。“
---

片段地球

下一個：集002：冷觀

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43
S.S.H.U.T.

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 片段地球

Episode 001

It is a child’s fantasy, these past few

weeks in Berlin. This I know to be true as I
have yet to meet an adult who can make sense
of what is happening but we understand. It is
a pretended fantasy come true and here we
are at the heart of madness, battling with guns
and grenades, against artillery attacks and
bombing raids.
In the ensuing phantasmagoric
transformation of my reality, my duties as
messenger driving me to exciting new places
that months and even weeks ago were just my

45
 S.S.H.U.T.

neighborhood, keep me lucid enough to stave

off the creeping insanity which owns
everything around me.
I attended school for years in a building
which stands behind me today as
headquarters of a dream battle against evil.
The general store I regularly fetched ice from
for my mother now lies ahead of me dark and
glowing from the low clouds reflection of fire
light through its missing roof and with each
new explosion eerie shadows pulse out of its
windows frightening me onwards. These are
the forges from which all nightmares spawn
and I imagine they will remain so for all time,
as even though I am only a child, every new
breath I draw confirms I am still this dream’s
master.
Messages secure in vest pocket, I push
onwards with my mission to the
Fuhrerbunker. Running alleyways and
through the park where I practiced this very
game in summers past. Ducking down streets,
from storefront to debris pile; there is no one

46
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to be seen these days and even less around

this time of the morning, except for us
soldiers. At least I think it is morning.
The tank I eyed to hide behind
following my next leap was not there
yesterday. Its lifeless hulk standing as high
water mark of the last Red Army incursion
makes me shiver onwards, for at this moment
its prime position is ideal cover on my current
path. There is no front line not anymore.
There is this street and that alleyway; only a
child’s imagination could draw a map for this
battlefield.
It cannot be, the Russians have been this
close so recently I thought as I leaned up
against the wheel of their smoldering tank.
Each time we push them back, their fire melts
us further away.
You have to think on your feet to stay in
this game. Survival is as simple as seeing the
brim on a helmet before that helmet sees you;
only the quick live to the end of the morning
in my neighborhood. Everyone one I know is

47
 S.S.H.U.T.

dead. There is something to be said for that. I

never deny myself the privilege of reveling in
my own mortality.
Arriving at the Fuhrerbunker, I crawl up
into the Messengers Entrance; a crook in a
bombed out wall which does not allow you to
see in or out until you breach the passageway,
where after I find myself in the silence and
security of the outer garden.
Slowing my pace, I allow my breath to
catch up with me. Cautiously, I proceed into
the main yard where the guard, a dizzy statue
of a man probably drunk again tries to stop
me. I yell at him, “get your hands off me, this
message is for the Fuhrer.” He does not let go.
I repeat myself.
He covers my mouth and says, “you are
too late.”
I am not late. I am never late. He
continues, “the Fuhrer is gone.”
“Gone?” I echo; the word everyone uses
for these days dead. No one ever dies
anymore. They are just gone. “Gone?” I

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repeat, “what do you mean?”

“No, no, not that kind of gone,” he
replies pointing to the sky; as his finger
produces a tiny object, an aircraft lifting up
over the city. “Gone,” he says, “the Fuhrer has
left; he’s gone south, to Bavaria.”
-----
“I did not think I could get you out of
there in time,” I said over the blaring engine,
“you put up a valiant fight. But Mein Fuhrer
you cannot blame yourself for this outcome.
You made all the right moves at all the right
times. The fates simply were not with you on
this one.”
Looking over into the silent reflection of
his face off the darkened window staring
down into the glowing ruins of our once
thriving capital city crumbling under the heel
of the advancing Red Army, I am drawn into
his reflection. I can see perfectly within those
eyes the haunting lost lust of a thousand
conquered conquerors. Even in defeat, this
man is intoxicating.

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 S.S.H.U.T.

“I could have done better Hannah,”

shatters the silence of my rambling.
“Oh Mein Fuhrer,” I went on, “could
this have been any other way? You will still be
triumphant in the end. I am sure of this.”
On and on I droll taking every chance I
dare to drown myself in that reflection. A dip
in the wings brings my attention back to the
controls and I am still talking. He could not
have known I was barely flying this light
aircraft to see me now. What was I saying?
Does it matter? Is either of us listening?
“I did better, last time,” he interrupts
with astonishing zest rocking forth and back
in his seat. Turning toward me, he looks to
justify this comment further. Squinting my
assistance to his words sees only failure's
familiarity subdue his gaze back toward the
silent judgment of the streaming German
countryside below us.
We fly low through our safe corridor to
the south held open at the cost of so many
lives. Is he worth it I wonder for the briefest of

50
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moments? But no answer comes and I would

not want one if it did. It is not for me to ask
such questions. The silence strikes me.
Arriving safely over our landing site,
the droning of the motor I thought had
deafened me to anything the Fuhrer might
have said as on our approach he mumbles
something I do not comprehend and dare not
ask him to repeat. Landing smoothly like
some dreams end the jostling of the rough turf
awakens me.
My heart beats again as a guard runs up
to the aircraft’s side, opening the door. Hitler
turns to get out but stops and turns back,
looking into my eyes, he says, “forgive me.” I
freeze as babble fills my throat but say
nothing with a swallow. He leans to get out
his last words, “I will do better next time.”
“I am sure you will Mein Fuhrer,” I
replied in a gush.
Or think I did.
I cannot say for certain I said anything
at all.

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Maybe he did not either.

-----
Shuffled into my waiting armored car,
we sweep off through the countryside. “The
latest reports predict the Red Army could be
here at any moment of unexpected weakness
Mein Fuhrer,” says the accompanying SS
officer to Hitler, “there is not a second to be
lost in transit to our destination.”
Feeling the weight of that last statement,
I press on even faster toward the best kept
secret of the war and the only salvation I can
imagine might save me, short of fleeing west
to surrender to the American Army. Behind
the front line borders of the Nazi’s Third Reich
lay our fate; where I had unwittingly aided in
the enslavement of countless souls whose
creation I now feared would soon see us
joining them in their shallow graves down the
long winding dirt road I now drove to our
destination. A hole in the wall which held
within it an insurmountable horror of
defensive positions no rational army could

52
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breech, to guard a prize no rational man could

refuse.
The future of the Third Reich and the
victory Soviet Russia bled for now lay within
this mountain fortress. External defenses sat
at the ready as the remnants of our elite SS
Troops having abandoned their Berlin
defenses flowed south behind us.
Berlin fell.
Much to the Red Army Supreme
Commander Zhukov’s disappointment, Hitler
was not found in its ruins. Seeing this
deception only after the fact Zhukov turned
his forces southwards toward the only
substantial body of resistance remaining in
Greater Germany.
Us.
Following our arrival, our troops filled
their stations in preparation for the pursuing
divisions.
-----
The River Elbe and my Division with
the US 1st Army lay one hundred miles to the

53
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west of my current position. They should just

be beginning their planned meet up with the
first arriving divisions of the allied Russian
Red Army, signaling the victorious procession
to the end of the war, which for me however,
perpetually seemed to lay just beyond the
next battle.
Standing here among the green rolling
hills looking west into Bohemian
Czechoslovakia at the mountain which
directly stands between us and victory, I
remind myself that total-victory has no
exceptions. Like the Battle for Berlin this
Redoubt before us was going to be solely the
Red Armies prize.
As one of the few American Liaisons
embedded with them to coordinate our meet
up on the Elbe, I stood here in witness of the
endless columns of Red Army soldiers in
pursuit of this previously unimagined, even
once mythical and now unavoidably realistic
obstacle.
The approach of the Red Army was not

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one of a tactical nature; the Red Army did

nothing covertly. Despite their inferiority for
years the Nazi’s SS soldiers had routinely
routed superior Red Army forces due to this
lack of subtlety. The Red Army living up to its
nickname had a singular solution to the Nazis
tireless maneuverings, endless soldiers and
equipment.
Stalin stood at the head of the Soviet
State as yet another Russian Emperor
demanding victory as the only outcome to
any battle for which there was no cost too
high in obtaining. The Red Armies blood
flowed in the pursuit of Stalin’s goals like no
army history had ever witnessed. The Soviet
had literally washed the Nazi occupied soils
of their Mother Russia clean with the blood of
the uncounted millions of conscripted
peasantry they dressed up and presented as
soldiers before me today.
To watch the Red Army in the field was
as I observed in my few short weeks with
them, like seeing the slow agonizing death of

55
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one of nature’s noblest beasts. It was as poetic

and glorious as it was ignorant and torturous
to see so many lives thrown into the fire to
meet the unrealistic schedule of a Tyrant. The
Red Army won and yet somehow lost every
battle they ever entered into and that is to say
that surely no opposing army ever
encountered the same Russian soldier twice.
Seeing the mechanized arm of the Red
Army arrive on the field was a wonder words
could never describe properly. This late in the
war, they at a whim fielded thousands of
tanks and uncountable artillery pieces, yet still
managed to fail to meet their potential leading
to the ever predictable retraction so as not to
destroy their own advancing troops who
would share in the overall incompetence of
the attack. Which time and again, found the
Nazis back at their stations ready to bear
witness to the next rising tide of farm boy
blood.
For what was it all for I asked myself
continuously? To allow incompetent Generals

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the right to be weighted down with one more

metal earned at the cost of a few thousand
more lives or to claim back the right to rule
over yet another people whom only the death
of the last had afforded them.
This is what watching the Red Army
brings; a contempt for the methodology of
this system and as the bile rises in my throat
to speak to these allies of ours. I must measure
every word before it is spoken or risk future
generations of their stout youth being impaled
on our own bayonets in the name of some
perceived insult or betrayal through their
commander’s eyes.
Collecting my thoughts just short of a
breakdown I swallowed my pride and
focused on our objective. Right here and right
now these murderers of Russian youth were
the lesser of two evils and though I am certain
we will live to regret this convenient ally.
Right here and right now is our chance to use
one evil to rid the world of another at far less
of a cost to our own than would ever be

57
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possible should we attempt to be rid of them

both ourselves. It was a fire sale only morality
would not attend; every other inclination
demanded one was better than two.
The Red Army artillery began firing on
the Mountain Redoubt with tremendous force
the likes of which I had only heard like a
thunderstorm on the horizon while south of
Berlin. This close, the force of the cannon
blasts hit me in the chest like a well-healed
boxer. It was standard operating procedure
for the Red Army to open every siege in this
manner, just as standard as it was for the
Nazi’s SS Divisions to survive these ground
leveling attacks mostly intact.
The following morning the Red Army
attacked again. The forests around the
Redoubt, reduced to stumps and fields from
the previous night’s barrage, saw the Nazi’s
external defenses obliterated and yet, the
terrain’s new chaotic formations remained
equally defendable and thus, the dance
carried on like so many before it though none

58
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with so much riding on its outcome.

Inevitability unfolded before my eyes. I
watched because I could not turn away but
this spectacle of destruction was
dumbfounding in its hypnotic allure. The end
of the day saw the Nazi troops replaced by
piles of Red Army corpses too deep to walk
through but even that would not stop their
advancing armor. This sort of thing cannot
happen anymore I screamed to myself but
was powerless to change this calamities
course.
Zhukov ordered wave after wave of
soldiers to die for one more foot of ground
and where each attack failed the next
continued because it could not be denied he
was gaining ground. The logic of his
processes were staggering and his flaw
recognition nonexistent, for this man did not
think based on his own merits. Stalin held this
mans hands bound and Zhukov like his
soldiers had nowhere to go but forward. I
could read this in his eyes; it was his life or

59
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theirs.
The following day brought relief at last.
We won the field at a cost in lives that was
quickly being shuffled away by an equally
large army so as not to clot the flow. There
was a favorable plan this morning to deal
with the next obstacle before us; the tunnel
defenses leading into the Mountain Fortress
were to be conquered through a series of
coordinated tank attacks.
“The Joseph Stalin-II Heavy-Tank, the
latest in the Soviet’s Arsenal,” my counterpart,
Alexei said to me with a smile as these
monsters made their debut on the field. Not a
moment to late I thought either. These tanks,
an almost solid chunk of steel distinguished
only by the cannon sticking out of their
massive turrets were to be the surprise we
need for which the Nazis had no answer.
A line of these unprecedented
behemoths rumbled past our observation
dugout more than a hundred yards away,
shaking everything around me. Proceeding

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toward the tunnel’s entrance each tank fired at

its closest approach then abruptly turned
rotating out-of-the-way, to let the next tank in
line approach and fire, as the first cycled
around to the back of the line.
Generally impressed but not seeing a lot
of initial progress and less willing to witness
as one more valiant effort turned into another
pile of bodies. My hunger and I retreated
from our observation post to head back up the
road to the newly forming Field Headquarters
for a meal and to generally observe operations
as often I did. My handler Alexei, never more
than a step or two behind me, soon joined us
as we found our meal.
At least I think this was a meal.
Lacking from the front line excitement
and not wishing to face down this meal
undistracted, I searched in vane for some
middle ground between the deaths, and
staring into space while I contemplated my
plan of attack for choking down today’s unfair
faire.

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Witnessing a soldier being scorned by

his Sergeant, my opportunity arose. Figuring
it was safer to approach the Sergeant we
followed him from the chow line and with a
few choice looks and comments were soon
discussing the issue he had been discussing
with his retreated and scorned disciple.
It was what he called, a farm boy
fantasy: SS soldiers being shot only to get up
afterward. To which he continued, “Probably
just wounded or perhaps another solder from
the same direction,” looking sad at his last
statement. He leaned in and quietly said, “I
have seen this as well.”
I looked at the Sergeant with a skeptical
eye. He retorted, “that is the exact response I
received from my captain.” I smiled and
shook my head and he concluded. “So I crush
these rumors first hand, but really I have seen
it myself.”
Pausing a minute while he looked
around the tent carefully. “It was a few
months ago,” he said, “we were outside of a

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railway junction back up the road. I had just

finished my rounds; we had the weekend off
and were staying in the rail house, when a
messenger showed up. He told us we had to
turn back up the road to deal with an
unexpected surge of resistance fighters, Nazi
collaborators. And we did; there are no
refusing orders or delaying where I come
from, so back up the road we went.”
Walking toward an unoccupied table in
the corner of the dining area, we all sat down
and the sergeant continued, “when we arrived
on-site there was nothing to be seen at first.
Then a series of shots came at us from a house
up the hill. We pursued. It was, an easy
enough fight. We only lost four men, they a
dozen or more.”
Leaning in a little closer, “the barn
behind the house drew my snipers attention
which after a few shots drew mine. He kept
picking guys off in the barn. I sat and watched
with him for a while as every chance he got,
he shot another SS soldier. Just common foot

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soldiers you understand. I told him there

must be a whole nest of them in there so we
called for artillery support. Around midday
after a few well-missed shots, the barn blew to
splinters.”
“So finally, when we were sure it was
clear we walked up to the barn proud as could
be and what do you expect we found?”
Spellbound, I blinked.
“A solitary soldier where we had
expected to find a pile of corpses; there he
was, impaled through the ribs from the force
of the artillery’s explosion with one of those
large harvesting tools but for all I could tell
none the worse off. I smiled at him and shot
him in the chest. He smiled back. My smile
fell to the ground and I shot him several more
times. This guy would not die. Each time I
shot him, it looked like little more than me
punching you in the arm.”
“Anyway,” the Sergeant looked around
again, “we took him prisoner” he said much
quieter, “sent him back and moved on and

64
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that was the last I heard of it. But to this day

the word from the top is to stifle these false
defeatist rumors. And I do.”
I became aware of myself again. A little
too engrossed in his story and found myself,
for the moment, believing it as well. I looked
over at my handler Alexei whom having long
since finished his meal was now nodded off,
apparently not interested. I asked the
Sergeant, “and this is not an uncommon story
then?”
He frowned, nodded and said, “whelp
this is my cue, back to the front, pleasure
chatting with you.”
“Nice knowing you,” I said with a wink.
He did not smile back.
Nudging my partner, we got up and
walked out the door behind the Sergeant.
Alexei leading the way, slowed then stopped
between the trucks parked outside, turned
and said, “that is not the smartest thing to do
around here.”
I replied with a smile, “I am not from

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around here.”
He laughed and continued, “just keep in
mind that the truth is a dangerous weapon
and no one here needs anymore danger than
we already have. For both our sakes please.”
I nodded, “of course Comrade. Let’s get
back to the safety of the battle then, and see
how they are doing.”
Antagonized by my sarcasm Alexei
continued talking on our walk back to the
observation bunker, “truth means nothing
without priority,” he boldly stated.
I looked up like I was listening. He said
nothing else, so I asked, “you don’t find truth
to be an anchor in an otherwise chaotic
world?”
“Whose truth would anchor me?” He
replied.
I said nothing and in my vacuum he
continued, “you have a minimum of two
truths even in the best of cases: The truth of
the person who is right and the truth of the
person who is wrong. The capacity to decide

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the difference, drawn from our priorities,

defines for us; right from wrong. Without our
priority we cannot say with any degree of
certainty whether right exists at all. Without
it, we have simply two people, each telling
their own version of an event. It is with the
priority of the observer that we define the
rightness of one over another and through
something as arbitrary as priority, do we
decide what truth is.”
I walked on in silence for a few minutes
before retorting, “truth to me is what the
majority of people can agree upon. Truth is
tested over time and cannot be denied; until
truth fails to meet the test, then it is modified
to make up for its shortcomings. Truth
remains the goal despite the burdens it
encounters. We do not always know the truth
we seek and our path toward it is rarely
straight but we pursue it none the less and are
all the better and much the wiser for the trials
our failure's force us to endure.”
“So your priority is truth?” Alexei

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concluded.
We walked on in mutually confused
silence, toward the only truth we both knew
was waiting for us, but only I seemed to dread
a new exposure to the continuance of this
barbaric day. I wondered why I was even
here, this was not what I had signed up for
and every step I took brought me one step
closer to seeing things I might never again
forget.
It was another afternoon paying careful
inattention to the smoking hole in the side of
the mountain before us. The Reds had
breached the tunnel while I was gone and
were inside fighting within what sketchy
reports held as; an enormous and well-
defended cavern deep within the mountain,
with hints of further stifled accounts of men,
SS soldiers, not dying when they were
suppose to.
As Alexei had suggested, I dismissed
these rumors as fantasy and whether for his
sake alone, or for my own nagging disbelief of

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such a possibility, or simply because such

information was not actionable from my
position, I allowed these curiosities to pass
without further disruption.
But in my own mind, right along with
the once rumored existence of the very
Redoubt I now stood in front of, I knew
consensus meant something. Dismissed as
popular myth by the General Staff, the
frequency of these reports was difficult to
ignore. “What uncommon valor these men
have,” Zhukov was said to have said, “what I
could do with men of that caliber.”
It was well after midnight when a series
of screams and a puff of smoke drew our
attention again, we all looked up to see yet
another image that might haunt me well past
my death. Why was I here? I screamed inside
my head as I dug my palms into my eye
sockets deep enough that I might finally be
blinded to this horror.
Early that morning the news came. We
were in control of the tunnel and adjoining

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cavern. I did not ask the cost, I could not live

with myself knowing the full truth of what I
had witnessed and maybe my formerly stifled
inquiries had made me cautious of what I
should ask of my hosts. The battle was
drawing to a close; that was enough for me
and as the Redoubt Guard dwindled it
became apparent that they could be killed,
that these rumors were the stuff of farm boy
fantasy. The Nazi’s invincible SS were fading
into history at long last.
Hitler was captured that evening. Alive!
I was not near Zhukov when the news
hit but I knew this moment was one of great
opportunity. His ego would be my ticket
inside the Redoubt to fulfill my role here.
Moving quickly, I converged on the point I
knew he would have to cross to reach the
entrance and sure enough, as he approached I
was swept up in his wake as the only certainty
more pleasing than a conquered foe, are
witnesses to the account thereof and into the
Redoubt I went.

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My mind raced faster than my pulse as I

absorbed every detail I saw. This fortress was
the stuff legends are born of I thought as I
followed Zhukov’s entourage up the long
tunnel inside the mountain.
The official tally was not in of course,
nor did I expect one, but the body count
required in its capture held future promise
and as the closing days of the war began so
would the looting, which among my more
tactical purposes, was where I came in; to
make note of this sort of technology.
Following our short hike we entered
into the first chamber. A huge cavernous space
opened up before me like I had walked
outside again only as I looked up, I found
there were no stars to be seen above us, nor
was there any ceiling I could discern through
the smoke.
The vast floor of the cavern was covered
in a mostly destroyed labyrinth of tank traps
and barbed wire obstacles which separated us
from a multi leveled structure clad in burnt

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out machine gun nests and artillery positions

forming the opposite wall. To the left, a bright
light shone out from a tunnel next to a large
door blown off its hinges. It was toward this
light our party progressed.
Beyond a bank vault like door still
teetering on its last hinge, pressed open by an
armored vehicle pinning it against the wall
revealed; a tunnel lined with windows down
each side through which you could see the
flicker of water filtered light.
Through this curiosity in wide-eyed
silence each member of Zhukov’s party
passed relieving their disbelief of the spectacle
onto the next man as they stepped into the
more familiar safety of the granite walled
second chamber beyond. “An enormous
sphere suspended in a liquid shell some ten
meters deep,” the officer leading the way said
to Zhukov as we entered.
Unnoticed or unconcerned with my
presence I continued to follow them through
the second more complex chamber down a

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long hallway around a corner down a second

longer hallway up a dozen flights of stairs
along another hallway into a huge room
leading to another room to the left.
The guards stopped me at this point.
Zhukov, still ahead of me, walked into the
room and stopped at the edge of my line of
sight. I could see him standing there but I
could not see more and as I stepped to the
side, his guard jabbed me in the ribs with a
rifle butt, this was as far I was going. Hearing
Zhukov mumble something incomprehensible
I leaned forward as the almost respectful tone
of his words danced by me. The guards
turned at this as well and I slipped right and
caught a line of sight view of Zhukov’s
cornered quarry.
There he was, a short old man; the
funny mustache was the only recognizable
marking I needed. He frankly did not look the
part, they never do. Suddenly yelling in
German pierced my eardrums. It was Hitler
all right and what a voice, this man

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commanded all around him. I was surprised

not to see Zhukov fall into line behind him as
his barking echoed off the granite walls, I
know I felt it; like some sublime force, pulling
me off course.
The shouting continued; it grew louder
and more terminal. Something was coming,
and under Hitler’s yelling I heard a second
voice in Russian saying, “I told you this was
true! You did not believe me,” said the
Colonel walking past Zhukov, “look at the
blood on him. That is his blood. Does he look
wounded?”
The Colonel now standing in front of
Zhukov stared intently at the doubt in his
Commanders eyes slowly shifting toward
him, he drew his pistol in response, turned,
and fired it once, twice, and Hitler fell.
Zhukov shoved the Colonel and his guards
quickly mobbed him.
Hitler lay there. I moved in closer. He
was bleeding, lying in a pool of blood. He was
hit badly. The Colonel yelled, “watch him!”

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From under the pile of guards and then it

happened. Hitler slipped around a bit looking
for traction. Zhukov and everyone in the
room took a step back mentally if not
physically and stared as he rose again like the
shouting which followed.
It sounded like so many speeches I had
heard on the radio from my days in England.
This man was undead or indestructible, was
he supernatural? Could he have been the
Savior so many people thought he might be?
He certainly commanded a room well enough,
but magnetism aside what was I seeing? How
is this so?
Zhukov not satisfied with what he was
seeing pulled his pistol and aimed steadily at
Hitler’s shoulder, the room went silent.
Seconds ticked by like minutes. Did he fire?
Did I miss it? BANG! Everyone jumped except
Hitler who fell back but caught himself. Blood
dripped to the floor from the wound
dampening his uniform in a higher location
than before; then braced from the shot he

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regained his composure lifted his head and

looked up at us confirming Zhukov’s
unsatisfied scowl to which he fired, again and
again until his pistol emptied.
Smoke filled the room. Hitler lay against
the back wall, breathing. He breathed. I
breathed. We all breathed. Zhukov reloaded. I
moved in closer. Zhukov stood looking down
at his open revolver making certain it seemed
the bullets felt heavy enough and fitted into
the tumbler just right, the revolver latched as
he looked straight ahead but Hitler still lay on
the floor. Zhukov looked down leaned in and
said something at almost a whisper I did not
hear, though his sublime lilt widened Hitler’s
eyes.
At these words’ Hitler stood up slowly.
Standing tall after collecting himself, he
straightened his hair to the wrong side as
always, adjusted his uniform and looked dead
ahead. Zhukov stepped back. Compliance
was at hand but who was serving whom?
Perhaps an understanding was reached. I

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stepped back again. Hitler stood erect and

assumed the fascist salute followed by a single
well-barked Seig-Heil.
Zhukov circled around moving toward
me eyeing his gun. I looked on with nervous
amazement, was Zhukov giving Hitler his
final moment, or vice versa? Seeing a guard
with machine gun at the ready should failure
be upon us. Zhukov found his mark, lined up
and Hitler slumped. He did not fall but
looked to have had an episode of sorts.
I looked at him with furrowed brow. We
all looked at him with inquisition. No one
watching had missed this change in
deportment. The magnetism was gone. He
stood there crestfallen and dumbfounded first
looking only at the floor then at each one of
us. Zhukov lined up focusing on Hitler.
Hitler’s gaze soon found Zhukov.
A guard from outside stepped in and
said something privately to Zhukov. The
guard left again.
Zhukov raised his weapon took aim at

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Hitler’s head and fired. The bullet struck

Hitler just above the brow between the eyes
and he fell like a sack of clothes. The room
froze, like a photograph of the incident as a
single coil of smoke rolled off his gun’s barrel
and except for my own heart; I heard nothing
but the pain.
We stared at the crumpled body of
Hitler, it did not move. Blood pooled beneath
it. We stared and stared.
It was over. There was no mistaking this
moment, so many impossible years; countless
millions murdered on every side by the mad
men defending them, and in this second, the
insanity was gone.
Minutes passed in silence.
Zhukov, still standing in front of me
looking down at his fallen nemesis, the others
retreated in triumph; leaving us, trapped by
the immense gravity emanating from the
body at the end of the room. I wanted to move
but could not. My legs would not so much as
twitch. This was a moment of history like few

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others and I breathed in every detail.

Just short of becoming a statue Zhukov
stepped back, turned on his heel and walked
toward the exit as he passed by he said
gruffly, “this never happened.”
I was the statue now.
--
“Lieutenant Banner,” I yelled at the
shadow standing beyond the doorway at the
end of the hall, “Lieutenant” No response
came. Walking further down the granite
walled halls of the Redoubt and into the room,
I said, “Lieutenant, We have to go. Now! Our
Division is moving out!”
The dizzy American Liaison looked up
at me, “Our Division?” He said, “I think you
are mistaken Comrade. Our Division lies
under the mud of that field out there. Our
Division isn’t going anywhere.”
“Lieutenant we have to go,” I said
through my teeth measuring every word, but
seeing no response worthy of note I grabbed
his arm and dragged him down the hall with

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me. He followed only with great effort, which

faded with every step. “Hitler is dead,” I said,
“they found his body in the Fuhrerbunker in
Berlin; the war is over. Our Division is moving
on to the Elbe as planned, where our duties
demand we coordinate our meet up with your
1st US Army.”
The American Liaison stopped in his
tracks saying, “that pool of blood back there.
That was~”
“~No it was not!” I replied maintaining
my stern tone, “I do not have time to go over
this right now. If you want to live to the end of
this day, we have to leave here now!” His step
quickened with these words and we made our
way out of the Redoubt into the Grand
Cavern where thousands of bodies both
German and Russian were being stacked like
firewood.
Down the long tunnel we quick stepped
past troops still clearing away the debris of
battle. The daylight pierced my eyes as we
emerged. Continuing up the road to the field

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headquarters, I went inside briefly for orders

and keys to a private car with which I was to
drive my counterpart to catch up with our
Division already in route to the river Elbe.
Returning to find my charge standing in
the same spot but looking back at the
Mountain Redoubt for what he knew too
would be the last time. Seeing the tractors
already on site towing out our tanks, knowing
the bodies were almost gone and realizing
that by the end of this day none of this will
have ever happened. I paused for a moment
to allow the inevitable to pass.
Banner looked up at me and said, “you
guys are not as dumb as you look are you?”
I laughed at his predictable naivety and
shoved him in the right direction replying,
“only as dumb as you imagine.” He looked
back at me for the briefest of seconds as I
walked past him and our quick step resumed
toward the waiting car.
Once on the road we sat in silence for
sometime. Pacified by the predictable purr of

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the motor, I knew behind his perplexing scowl

he was replaying the morning’s events over
and over in his mind to burn them into place,
but it was not going to do him any good. They
were not coming back and knowledge of them
could not benefit him any further. I consoled
his silence simply saying, “welcome to life
with the Red Army.”
He grunted, “so?”
I replied, “you saw nothing.”
“But~”
“~you know nothing.” The remainder of
our journey went without comment.
I dropped him off when we reached our
Division Command Vehicle. He said nothing
as he left the car. I knew he understood and
with that my duties here were over. I was to
report back to Breslau for reassignment to
England to fill my position on the Red Army
staff playing my small part in the
coordination of the stand down of allied
forces in Europe, and I was late.
This was a tense time for everyone.

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Europe had more than ten million heavily

armed shell-shocked troops with no clear
purpose or target and the slightest
misunderstanding could be catastrophic.
Trust was in short supply as the ranks
tightened into what most hoped would be the
final hours of the war. To insure that it was,
they needed people with first hand field
experience and contacts advising them. Not
everyone was happy to see this war end but
end it must; the alternative was unthinkable.
It took considerable time driving against
the Red Tide of men and machine still flowing
westwards; I reached our air base in Poland
that evening in time to catch a transport
plane. We picked up an American escort
fighter as we flew back over Germany,
watching it float up and down outside my
window for several minutes; I thought now
there is the good life.
When I awoke, it was dark all around
there was no noise. I was the only person
aboard the once crowded plane. I could see

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nothing outside and presumed I was

dreaming or worse. Still tired, I rolled to one
side and went back to sleep. When I awoke
again, it was the same scene dark all around
me. No noise. No people. I reached for my
lighter and with it illuminating the interior of
the plane, my initial observations were proven
correct. There was no one insight. I looked left
and right in front and in back, I was alone. I
tried looking out the window but saw only a
tired soldier looking back in.
Considering whether I should go back
to sleep and make sense of this when there
was more information to make sense with, I
decided somebody must need me somewhere.
Standing, I made my way through the
darkness to the front of the plane, found an
open door and stepped down to the ground,
which felt to be a smooth concrete floor. I
looked around in the darkness to see the
outline of other planes, this was a good sign,
and in the distance I saw faint light through
foggy windows. A hangar is where I must be,

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but beyond this, I knew little more than to

suspect I was in England.
Stepping out of the hangar I emerged
onto a large flat tarmac with planes dotted
here and there most of which I did not
recognize. Yes, I told myself; this must be
England. I had my vicinity narrowed but
where to go from here? Looking through the
darkness for any area of general activity, I saw
none. There was a brightness coming from
beyond the next building; moving toward the
light as so basic an instinct it seemed to be,
held true until the sharp yell of man behind
me shouted, “Halt!” And I did.
The footsteps moved around toward my
front, asking, “name?”
“Lieutenant Commander Alexei
Misostov of the Red Army,” I replied.
He remained silent, then said in a
befuddled tone, “could you repeat that
please?” And I did to which he replied,
“please stand where you are,” as he blew two
blasts on a whistle producing another guard

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out of the darkness who joined him.

They discussed the reality of Russians
being on base and concluded I was probably
supposed to be here, but were no more
informed as me as to what I was suppose to
be doing here. The new guard removed a
wireless radio from his pack and walked a
few steps away. The first guard smiling
sheepishly up at me quickly turned his gaze
toward assisting his partner. On the second
guards return he handed me a yellow card
saying, “this is good until dawn. Show it
where needed.”
I had just a few questions which still
needed to be answered but I did not think
these two held any more answers than were
apparent. Thanking them, they walked off in
opposite directions leaving me standing
looking out at the open airfield. Lost in both
moment and direction the complete lack of
people trying to shoot at me became evident. I
smelled the air. This was nice.
Looking back at the hangars, then left to

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the building indicated as headquarters, I

concluded I was on friendly territory but
battle rules still seemed to apply: If you do not
know where you are, you should return to the
last point you knew where you were and wait
there for more information. And I did.
Entering back into the hangar, I
wandered amongst the larger aircraft not
immediately recognizing which I had
departed from. “Ah yes. This looks familiar,” I
said under breath. Reentering, I found the seat
next to mine held a brown satchel bag
camouflaged under a newly pressed dress
uniform. The bag revealed three relevant
items: a map, some papers and what I guessed
to be British money.
With satchel and uniform tucked
underarm, I again departed the hangar and
made my way toward the brightest spot on
the darkened airport. Along my way I spotted
another contingent of guards and quickly
juggled my load fumbling through my
pockets to produce a yellow security pass for

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their focusing flashlight. Nodded on, I smiled

and passed undisturbed.
The office beyond the light drew me in,
a rather unsubstantial building with windows
through which a squint revealed busily
working people inside. I lingered outside the
front door a moment, to collect my thoughts
and considered on my own time what I was
here to request. Reexamining my new satchel
and its map, I thought this is where I should
begin.
Presenting myself to the front desk
clerk, whom after accosting me with a short
visual inspection probably more out of
curiosity than anything else I said, “could you
direct me how to get to this location?” I
pointed at the map, “It would seem~”
“~Yes,” he interrupted, “your Russian
lot went on without you. They did say more
would be following. I will arrange for a driver
and car to be along shortly. Have a seat please
it should not be but more than twenty
minutes.”

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On that, he presumed I was informed

and returned to his work without delay. They
did appear terribly busy, so I left him to it and
walked back toward the waiting area.
And there it was. Sitting down, I picked
up the newspaper bearing a photograph of
the man I had just seen being carried out of
the Redoubt. ‘Hitler Is Dead’ the headline
read; below it lay the very man I had seen
with bullet wound in forehead, and a
photograph of Hitler being held above him as
proof to anyone who did not recognize his
silly mustache. “Found inside the
Fuhrerbunker in Berlin. Died of an apparent
self-inflicted gunshot wound,” it said.
I continued reading despite the weight
of my ever more apparent frown; looking as
though I was reading anyway, my eyes
followed the words and my mind read them
but it did not matter. None of this was true.
What finally mussed my attention away
from my disgust was did the truth really
matter at all? Hitler was dead. Was this truth

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not enough? Were the method and time,

location and circumstance so important that
knowing these exact details could change
histories interpretation of reality? Do not let
the facts get in the way of the truth my
education told me.
While my frown smiled at the
consideration I might pick up a pen and
revise this article to a more accurate account
of how Hitler’s body came to be found at such
a politically beneficial location. My smiling
frown turned back upside-down with painful
obviousness in the realization of who could
such a correction serve? Who could possibly
benefit from one man’s recollection of events,
over the official truth as laid out in this
newspaper and millions like it now streaming
around the world? One reedit here in rural
England would accomplish nothing.
Accurate information is only powerful
where it is widely actionable I thought, as on
the battlefield. Power here, is any information
disseminated in mass.

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There would be no correction. This was

the truth and whom it served best did not
matter. For the truth of the lie was that it
really did not serve anyone who mattered
with the exception of Stalin’s incredibly
bloated humble ego. This man was right in all
things in our land and anything he was not
right about was put through vigorous exercise
until its new form proved out how right Stalin
had been in the first place. This was life under
Soviet Socialism.
This was Soviet truth in western news.
This was everything that every OSS American
Intelligence agent lived in fear of; someone
else dictating the official truth of world
events.
I looked up from my crusade for the
truth, which lived and died in this chair as a
small man walked into the office and asked in
a large voice, “you rang?” The busy clerk
pointed at me mid-turn only to resume his
dance to which the little man moved toward
me saying, “do you know where you are

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headed or should I presume for you?” I

handed him the map.
“Thanks, I should have presumed,
follow me. Do you have any luggage?” He
asked as we passed through the door.
“Only what I am carrying,” I replied.
A gray jeep waited for us outside.
Reaching the airport gate where I presented
my papers, we passed with ease into the
English countryside. “Smoke ‘em if you got
‘em,” the driver said as we rumbled along the
narrow hedge lined road. I did not and
therefore would not. “You do not mind if I
do,” he continued. Asking myself if that was a
question or a suggestion, he proceeded at my
lack of objection.
The drives rush of cool morning air left
me looking for a heater, which I engaged and
reveled in. It was a brisk but beautiful
morning, the sun was already showing and I
think I heard a bird tweet as we passed the
last grove of trees. War free, it hit me again.
Everything around me was war free. I smiled.

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The driver spoke again, “can you

believe it’s really over?” To which my smile
nodded. He continued, “what a war. Were
you in for the whole show?” I nodded again.
“Not me,” he replied, “I just got here; have
not seen one ounce of combat. Was it rough?”
I delayed glancing right and nodded again.
“Yeah, that is what they tell me. I drive a lot of
people around. I have lived this war through
them mostly, and where were you in the worst
of it?”
I tried to quantify an answer to his
question but the silence dictated my failure.
Content though I was with my silence it did
not sit well with this one; he was determined
to find out more about me. A few moments
passed before he repeated his request as
though I had not heard him the first time. To
which I found myself, against my very will,
begrudgingly replying, “we had some trouble
crossing the Oder River, heavily prepared
defenses before Berlin and considerable losses
on our part.”

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Now he sat in silence for a while,

perhaps contemplating the nature of my
acceptably vague and short reply before
saying, “you guys always seem to get through
in the end though. I mean wow at your show
and all. Great job from me personally.”
“Those tanks you guys have?” He
continued, “are all the talk around the table at
my house. Well we have a decent little tank
killer called the M-4 but nothing compared to
those beasts your guys have. The JS-II I
believe it is called isn’t it? Wouldn’t take too
many of those to put those Nazi bastards in
their place I bet? Did you see many out
there?”
Inside I was smiling at this driver’s
expertly dialogued chitchat, yet I wanted to
break free from it without incident and did so
by the only means I knew possible. Looking
around at the empty fields streaming past us,
noting the fact that we were about as isolated
as this little man and I had been since we first
met, I made sure he saw me looking disturbed

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at his questions, and proceeded to ask, “not

seen anyone around in a while. Are you sure
this is where you want to be?”
The driver did not say anything for the
rest of our trip and I soon found myself on the
curb outside a rather nice looking hotel. “This
is it. Enjoy your stay,” he might have said, but
on my arrival I had but one thing in mind:
breakfast and a hot bath, or perhaps the bath
first and then breakfast. Moving along into
the hotel, without a word being said the
concierge out flanked me; directing me
toward the room they were calling the
barracks, he left me to my obvious duties.
Showered shaved and eaten. I
proceeded to my next destination, the Allies
Regional Headquarters following an adjutant
I had picked up in the dining room. Once I
arrived, the main events were made ready to
take place. While I waited, I was briefed and
debriefed; I would be contacting my
representative with my Red Army Division
now in Germany with their approach and

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contact details for meeting up with the US 1st

Army.
This simple enough situation was to be
perhaps the most highly charged moment of
the war. There could be zero casualties in its
execution as it was likely any remaining Nazi
troops would have been pushed toward the
very spot where we were to meet up and if so,
there could be considerable interference that
would cost us dearly if they got us shooting at
our allies.
The situation of two allied armies
fighting with each other against a common
foe, but never before on the same field of
battle, could quickly go wrong should we
meet under unfavorable circumstances.
Especially given the legendary paranoia both
sides shared toward each other’s political
agenda. Filling my role at last, I radioed in to
my Division contact the American Liaison
Banner. “Hello Alexei!” He greeted me
warmly.
“Hello Jonathan,” I replied, “here are

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your Division hold coordinates. Followed by

your scout team approach vectors and finally
your firing recognition patterns should you
encounter resistance.”
-----
Hearing my old friend on the other end
of the radio was pleasing as he had
disappeared quicker than expected. I copied
his coordinates down replying, “understood.
Scout teams are ready to approach on your
order,” I double checked my scribbling and
dispatched them to the Red Army couriers.
Alexei replied, “you can dispatch your
scouts now.”
“Thank you Alexei,” I said, “and I will
leave my address with your Division
command. Look me up someday.”
“Indeed Comrade, over and out.”
Proceeding forwards toward the River
Elbe, I contacted my scouts. They had
encountered no resistance and with great
caution together we pushed on. Our arrival at
the bridge brought us face to face with an

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equally cautious and stark looking band

across the river. Looking for familiarity, a
single outline drew me closer, an almost
forgotten friend. He smiled.
It was in this manner our two armies,
had come in contact all across Germany the
previous week and with our arrival, the last
tooth of this giant zipper closed on a united
Europe. Under our flag of peace, after so
many horrific years of war, tyranny had been
defeated and my job here was done.
Saying goodbye, to my Russian
Comrades and then to Europe, I was rushed
home ahead of my Division for more
debriefings; this time with the OSS in
Washington, D.C. I presumed they wanted
greater details of Hitler’s death and the
Redoubt’s strengths and weaknesses but like
the rest, they were not interested in one man’s
inconceivable experience. I did put it all on
paper, but the more times I told this story the
crazier it sounded.
Most important to them it seemed, was

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that the Soviets had nothing we did not

already know about. I tried to impress upon
my interviewers that these were good people
and I did not share their concern from what I
had seen of the Red Armies intentions toward
us. This gave them little solace as they clearly
did not believe my trust of the Russian people
should be as willingly extended to their
superiors. Somehow I doubted my
interviewers liked feeling good about things
though, feeling good does not fill the coffers.
And back to the basics we went. “How
many and~”
-----
“~when did you first see these?” I asked
the final time.
Completing my questioning of the
Liaison I smiled and said, “well Lieutenant
Banner can you believe it is really over?”
He looked up saying, “I can. But it will
be sometime before my brain does as well.”
I laughed as he walked out of the room.
I had four more debriefs that day, but

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rushed upstairs for my own debriefing with

the boss. Stopped by his secretary, I waited in
their outer office for my turn.
The newspaper I read while waiting was
still reporting on about the war. They could
not get enough of it apparently as today’s
headlines announced proudly we had
captured the German Rocketeers in tact. That
was a done deal two months ago I smirked
but it’s nice the headlines get out eventually, I
suppose.
Let’s see how much made it into the
paper I thought as I read on. Five hundred of
Germany’s most prized Rocket Scientists were
coming to America. I bet the Soviets were
smarting about that one I laughed but, inside I
knew this headline would call Soviet
resources off the search for them, headlines
are our worst enemy.
As I read on, the speech of Germany’s
Chief Rocket Scientist Werner von Braun
promising us wild eye dreams of men living
in space and his devotion to his new

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homeland America, I thought of what was

really going on in Germany at this moment.
Sure it was terribly gratifying to defend
the world from tyranny, fight injustice, free
our long befriended allies, assert ourselves as
a Superpower and fuel our economy with war
dollars to pull ourselves out of a depression
into a world of great prosperity. But in the
ended what was really going on in Germany
right now was the only reason we went.
Drawing Board was its name: to seize
the war production assets of Germany. Their
recent actions were justification enough for a
statewide forfeiture of everything that could
be called a weapon: medicines, power plants,
synthetic oil refinement, war-machines and
any other development we could stumble
across before the Russians were fair game.
The Germans were years, even decades ahead
of us in so many fields that to put ourselves
into a situation where we could simply walk
building to building filling our pockets, was;
well it was what conquerors conquer for.

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From the first rockets to reach into space

to supersonic air craft built of plywood, from
nuclear reactors to helicopters, from jet
fighters and bombers to flying wing stealth
aircraft and guided missiles, from computers
to electronic eyes. The world sat in wait for
this avalanche of development, the future of
this century’s industry lay on the drawing
boards of Germany. The Nazis had little to do
with the development of any of it but nobody
keeps score after the game is over. They had it
all.
No correct that. We had it all, and for
the good of freedom and democracy we were
there getting every last piece of it before the
Russians could. My bosses would not say it;
the next war began the instant Hitler died:
Germany, stripped to the core, turned into an
agrarian society never to menace the world
again and we over the Russians, to profit at
every turn from confiscated war reparations.
Finally called into the boss’s office I
filled them in on what I knew so far which

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was not much in the form of fact but we had a

mountain of speculation building. I confined
myself to understanding what their needs
were and returned to my duties.
-----
“Good kid.”
“He is new here?” Replied Cholmers.
“Yeah that is Frank’s son,” I said.
“Frank from downstairs?”
“No. From Morale Operations.”
“Oh yeah.”
Moments passed, as Cholmers
desperately searched for a face in his own
memories, to secure his assertion that he
knew what we were talking about, before I
interrupted, “our name change is coming
through soon, had you heard the latest?” I
said in a vain attempt to bring him back from
his aimlessly stare.
To which he frowned back at me, “they
are going ahead with that then?”
Laughing I replied, “well how tiring is it
to constantly hear the OSS being called ‘Oh

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the SS’? I don’t like being associated in

anyway with Hitler’s Schutz-Staffel.”
“Inconvenient that.” Cholmers replied,
“Hitler should have consulted us before
calling his band of thugs the SS. So is that
what SS stands for then? Hmm. Wonder what
Schutz means?”
“I don’t know.” I said, “it’s German for
something.” I waited for his face to show a
reaction but saw none, “C~ I~ A~. So what do
you think Cholmers?”
“Going to take sometime getting use to,
C~ I~ A~,” he replied returning his stare
toward my ceiling. I looked up wondering
what he sees up there. “Why ‘C’ Boss? Is there
a less central intelligence than our own that
we must distinguish ourselves from?”
“Let’s hope not Cholmers, let’s hope
not.” We both stared up in vain.
“How are things off Danzig?” Cholmers
said, “are we on site yet? Will they be keeping
us informed first hand or through Central
Command?”

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“I expect we are on approach as we

speak,” I replied, “and they better keep me
informed first hand, it was my idea to begin
underwater surveillance of Soviet occupied
ports and I took a huge risk ordering this
mission against all other suggestions. So when
it shows benefit, you and I had better be ready
to move, trumping anyone else taking credit. I
do not want to be the last man in line
scrounging for the facts when this tree bears
fruit.”
“The next war has already begun my
old friend,” I continued, “and it is
underwater. Under there, right now lying off
the coast of Northern Germany counting
supply ships moving down from Soviet
Russia. The allies have no idea what the next
move is going to be and they will not know
for certain until we tell them.”
“Brilliant my liege.”
I returned a dead pan look shunning his
sarcasm with just enough frown not to
discourage his compliment.

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“And what about the Bavarian

Redoubt?” He asked.
I stared into space still reveling in his
comment, “fortresses don’t invade Western
Europe tomorrow Cholmers. If it is there, it
will wait.”
---

Fragment Earth

Next: Episode 002: Cold Concept

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