Blood gurgled up from her throat as his strong arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her up as if she was a ragdoll. Her head tilted back, she snapped her eyes shut and cried out as his tongue slowly licked her cheek. Blood dribbling down her chin, she looked down at the sparking city below and felt her stomach drop. The spot lights on the roof behind them kept flashing past her terrified face.
One week earlier.
1994
Whitney Castor, a twenty-seven year old teacher stood in front of a lecture hall at the University of Seattle and spoke about the same legend that would soon destroy her life.
Dressed smarty in a charcoal shirt and a white sleeveless blouse, her stunning red hair was tied up in a bun with strands gently falling down against her neck. Leaning against her desk, her long nylon covered legs crossed at the ankles striking the attention of several of her male students.
Putting her hands back on the desk, she smiled and continued.
"According to history, many tend to ignore the real facts of how World War II ended."
Whitney clicked a small remote and the lights dimmed. On the projector screen a faded image appeared of a group of soldiers.
"The Basterds."
Walking the length of the hardwood stage, her heels clicked as she began.
"Many believe that the rise and fall of World War II ended when Hitler killed himself in his underground bunker…but it's false. In fact everything for the last fifty years has been a complete lie. A cover-up to avoid renegades like the Basterds. If the truth came out on how World War II was ended…then the world as we know it would be in chaos."
Whitney turned towards the screen.
"The Basterds consisted of ten Jewish American soldiers. Two of which were German born. The Basterds were lead by Lt. Aldo Raine…America's dirty secret if you may. Raine was sent to Germany with his troops to torture, kill, and bring mayhem to every Nazi serving under Hitler."
Whitney stood in front of the screen, facing the fifty or so students who listened and took notes.
"They stayed behind enemy lines for nearly four years. Ambushing German teams and scalping their victims."
A few of the students in the front row made disgusted faces and laughed as Whitney smiled.
"The survivors were often left disfigured, with warnings from the Basterds. They often dressed in German uniforms and hid behind enemy lines. Nearly a thousand dead are proof that the Basterds did in fact exist. Rumor has it that on June 17th, 1944 the Bastards were responsible for nearly four hundred deaths including Hitler at a German film premiere in Paris. The Bastards supposedly went into that premiere dressed as people from the film industry wit bombs strapped to them. That night…they ended the war with their suicide mission."
One kid, in his early twenties with a baseball cap turned backwards raised his hand, a cocky smile spread across his face.
"So you're saying that for fifty whole years everyone has lied. That all the history books and vets are lying…what just because of some big cover up?"
Whitney smiled, crossing her arms.
"That's right."
"You can't really think we're going to believe you. That means thousands upon thousands of people are involved in this cover up. Don't you think at least one person would of said something?"
"Oh there have been plenty of people who have tried to come out with the truth. Plenty of them have been shut up. There have been books, theories, plenty of stuff that have surfaced…but not enough to really hold up. Just some old photographs and facts…that's it."
Whitney turned, pointing to each man in the faded and projected photograph.
"Lt. Aldo Raine, Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz, Cpl. Wihelm Wicki, Pfc. Smithson Utivich, Pfc. Omar Ulmer, PFC Gerold Hirschberg, PFC Andy Kagan, and Sgt. Donny Donowitz…they were the Bastards, and they were the ones who were responsible for ending World War II."
Just then the lights went up and the shades automatically began to rise. The bell rang and Whitney smiled.
"Okay everyone I'll see you next class, remember to read chapters three and four!"
The students all began rushing out of their seats and going up the stairs to the exit. Whitney said goodbye to a few of them, a sweet smile on her face before turning around to grab her papers and bag. Glancing up she saw the faded image of the Bastards against the wall. Sighing, she thought back on how many years she had studied them. In fact before graduating herself she wrote her research paper on them. Now here she was, years later and still obsessed with the same group of soldiers almost everyone believed to be just a made up story. By now she had searched high and low for any evidence they existed. Staring up at the men she looked up at the one they nicknamed "The Bear Jew." And got the strangest feeling inside of her. Looking down, she grabbed the last of her things and put them in her bag. Taking her purse and car keys she clicked the remote making of image of the Bastards disappear.
Her heels clicking, she made her way up her empty class room before flipping the light switch off and left to check her mail in her office before leaving for the day.
A few minutes later Whitney had her bag thrown over her shoulder. Juggling her keys and mail, she made her way down the beautiful campus where the spring trees were just starting to blossom. Students walked by, saying hello as she made her way towards the faculty parking-lot. Right before reaching her car she froze.
A letter.
Smithson Utivich.
Whitney's eyes widened with excitement as she quickly opened her car door and threw her stuff inside. Leaning against the door, she tore open the letter and began to read. A grin spread across her face and she quickly tore away at the envelope. Her eyes quickly scanning the letter she couldn't believe it.
She had contacted the last surviving Bastard.
Unknown to her, back in the empty lecture hall where early spring light was spinning out onto the empty desks and seats, the lights dimmed without anyone entering. The automatic shades were drawn, and then the projector started.
The next slide came on in which it showed Sgt. Donny Donowitz's photo. Taken shortly before he was drafted. The photograph was taken in the late thirties of a man standing outside of a barber shop.
1941
"HEY GUYS OVER HERE!"
Utivich yelled staring down at the riverbank with his rifle ready. His large blue eyes looked down in disbelief before the others came running in his direction. Aldo was in the lead, jogging ahead before skidding to a stop, his boots sinking down in the black mug that squished whenever they walked.
"What the hell…"
Utivich cut him off before pointing down. Aldo's eyes drifted down when they stopped and saw.
What appeared to be a naked girl laid further down the shore. The mud nearly completely covered her naked and bleeding body. Leafs and twigs were stuck in her tangled dirty hair, and one limp arm lifelessly laid out in the water, the steady currant washing by it.
"Jesus."
Aldo mumbled before the others caught up to him. Wicki and Stiglitz on one side, Donny on the other. Right away the men looked down in the same direction and saw what Aldo and Utivich were looking at.
"Fuck a duck…"
Donny whispered under his breath.
Right away Aldo began slowly going down the steep hill towards the water, slowly trying to walk sidewalks to avoid from losing his footing. Wicki followed, with Utivich behind, holding onto Wicki's shoulder for support. Donny and Stiglitz watched as the men slowly made their way down.
Reaching the body, the three men gathered down. Aldo took Utivich's rifle and turned it around. Gently using it to poke the girl's filthy and mud caked bleeding back.
"She's dead."
Utivich said, his eyes looking down at her. Aldo shook his head handing the rifle back to him before kneeling down. Wicki joined him.
Aldo reached over and turned the girl over. Her head rolled back, dirty hair hanging in her face. She was naked and her body was covered in mud, filthy, bruises, bite marks, and blood. Aldo held the girl by the shoulders, his face disgusted before Wicki kneeled down beside him. Sighing, he shook his head.
"She looks young."
Aldo bit down on his bottom lip and nodded, pity in his eyes. Utivich meanwhile stood back looking uncomfortable. At that exact moment Donny started his way down, his boots sinking down in the mud as Stiglitz watched him with the others from up top.
Wicki sighed, looking at the girl's battered body.
Just then her eyes opened and she gasped.
"Shit!"
Aldo said, dropping her. Both Wicki and him jumped back a bit as the girl fell, and hit the ground hard. Right away piercing green eyes stared out from her dirty cut up face. Her lips trembled and she backed up, curling up as she brought her knees up to her bare chest and hit the moss covered log.
Wicki and Aldo eyed each other before Wicki leaned forward, offering his hand.
"Hey it's all right…we're not going to hurt you."
The girl's nervous bright eyes shifted back and forth.
"Wer sind Sie?"
Aldo looked at Wicki.
"What the fuck is that?"
Wicki glanced at Aldo, a small smirk on his face.
"It's German, hold on."
By then Donny had reached them, standing beside Utivich he stared at the young girl while Utivich dropped his eyes, embarrassed.
Wicki offered his hand again.
"Wir werden Sie nicht verletzen. Wir sind Soldaten. Mein Name ist Wihelm. Sind Sie verletzt? Wie sind Sie hier geworden?"
The girl shook before looking unsure.
"Amerikaner?"
Wicki eyed Aldo before looking back at her.
"Ja."
The girl's eyes lowered before she slowly spoke. Only Wicki understanding.
"Meine Familie. ..their alle Verstorbenen. Fünf SS Offizier bersten in unser Bauernhofhaus und hat jeden getötet. Meine Mutter, mein Vater, meine zwei Brüder. Ich bin entkommen aber sie haben mich gefangen. Sie. ..did Dinge zu mir für zwei Tage gerade, haben dann sie mich für Verstorbene verlassen."
Wicki dropped his eyes, almost pained to hear what she said. Aldo listened while Donny began taking his jacket off. Wicki went on.
"Ihre Nameliebe?"
"Regan."
This time Aldo, Utivich, and Donny understood perfect what she said. Aldo nudged Wicki's arm.
"What's she saying?"
Wicki never took his eyes off her.
"A group of SS officers attacked her home, they killed her entire family. She's…she was raped."
Wicki's voice lowered.
Donny held his jacket in his arms and deeply sighed when he heard this. Wicki went on.
"They raped and tortured her for a few days and left her for dead."
Aldo looked at the girl closely.
"How do we suppose she's telling the truth?
Wicki turned, his eyes serious.
"I find it very unlikely that she's lying, I mean look…"
Aldo still didn't budge, he looked the girl up and down before crossing his arms.
"Suppose it's a trap."
Wicki shot him a look before turning back.
"Regan, wie lang ist es gewesen, seit die Männer Sie verlassen haben,? Wissen Sie welche Richtung sie sind gegangen?"
The girl shook her head.
"Ich wenige Stunden, ich vorbei draußen. Sie haben, dass etwas gesagt gehend um Osten, aber ich bin nicht sicher."
Wicki nodded.
"Says she doesn't know. She blacked out a few hours ago, thought they said going East…
Donny stepped forward, for once his intense eyes looked uneasy. He held his jacket out to the girl.
"What's her name man?"
Wicki looked up at him.
"Regan…her name is Regan.
Donny cleared his throat before offering it.
"Regan…here. See?"
He offered the jacket. The girl stared at it unsure before Donny nodded, reaching his muscular arm out as far as he could. Finally the girl's trembling hand took it. Quickly she wrapped it around her and worked on zipping it up. Her naked battered body no longer exposed. Looking thankful she nodded at Donny who stood back.
An hour later back at their tents, the rest of the men were sitting around the fire and sharing a bottle. Utivich sat beside Aldo and looked slightly uneasy before clearing his throat.
"What about the girl sir?"
Aldo looked before taking a swig.
"We'll see what Wicki could get out of her. Donny and him are trying to clean her up. She's German and you can't always trust German. If she becomes too out of hand we'll just show the same hospitably her people would of shown for us."
Utivich looked extremely nervous and simply stared at the fire.
Further down near the stream Wicki and Donny stood on the shore with fresh clothes and a few washcloths. Regan sat on the ground still in Donny's jacket shaking. Wicki and Donny eyed each other before Wicki knelt down and tried to smile at her.
"Wir haben diese Dinge so Sie können aufräumen sich gestürzt. Es gibt einige Kleider, die Sie in ändern können."
Regan blinked before shaking her head. Wicki sighed before Donny stepped forward.
"What's the problem?"
Wicki looked over his shoulder and shrugged.
"I don't think she wants to get cleaned up. Probbaly doesn't trust us. Maybe we should leave her alone."
Donny made a face.
"Fuck that shit. She could be a spy…we're not leaving her alone for a second."
"Donny…"
"No, I know you're part German and all and I'm sorry, but I'm not trusting anyone."
"She's just a girl, look at her."
"Well then I guess she's going to stay like that if she isn't going to wash up in front of us."
Wicki shot him a look.
"You really must have been a smooth charmer back in America."
Donny took a step forward, his eyes intense.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean Wicki."
Wicki's face stayed perfectly calm.
"Nothing. Just I thought men from Boston knew how to treat a lady."
Turning, Wicki knelt back down to Regan as Donny made his hands into fists at his sides. Breathing heavy he glared down at Wicki as Wicki offered his hand to Regan.
"Sie werden viel besser fühlen, wenn Sie aufräumen. Ich bin sicher Sie werden wollen sauber jetzt. Wir könnten umdrehen, wenn Sie mögen. Ich verspreche, dass wir nicht anschauen werden."
Regan still looked unsure before Donny shook his head.
"Jesus, hold on."
Wicki turned and watched as Donny began unbuckling his belt. Right away Wicki stood up, his eyebrows raised and his eyes in disbelief.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm showing her there isn't anything to be scared of. If we wash up in the river maybe she'll get the hint."
Donny began kicking off his boots as Wicki stepped closer.
"I don't think watching two men strip down naked after what she's been through would be the best idea."
"I'm keeping my boxers on. Anyways this is what my mother used to do with us when we were kids. She'll get the hint."
Donny peeled off his shirt, and stood bare-chested as Regan shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable. Dropping his slacks, Donny pointed to the river, nodded and then started towards the water. Wicki looked back down at Regan who had tears filling her eyes.
"Er versucht, Sie zu zeigen, den es nichts gibt, Angst vor zu haben. Wir waschen nur ab. Wenn Sie nicht wollen, zu der ich verstehe."
Regan eyed Wicki before he sighed, looking over he saw Donny was waist deep in the water. Biting his bottom lip, he began to unzip his jacket. Regan slowly stood up, staring at Wicki.
"Ich werde abwaschen. Solange Ihr Freund nichts. ..I'm versucht der zu wund ist, zu laufen und ich fühle krank."
Nodding, Wicki stood in front of her as she slowly slipped off Donny's jacket which seemed like a tent on her. Wicki quickly looked away before Regan reached out and tugged on his arm.
"Sie kommen?"
Wicki nodded and finished undressing.
Once they were all in the water, Wicki stayed close to her seeing she was embarrassed. Going deeper into the water, where it was nearly up to her neck she sunk down low and began trying to wash the filth off her body. Donny dunked his head, his bangs dripping wet before eyeing her. Wicki swam close, before Regan went underneath the surface for a moment.
Wicki and Donny stared at each other, watching the sky above them darken. Seconds later Regan resurfaced, now beautiful red hair showing as it slicked back behind her. Slowly the dirt and mud were beginning to clean off. Donny looked impressed.
"Can't believe there's a girl underneath all that."
Wicki cocked his head to the side as Regan looked over her bare shoulder at the two of them and continued washing up, keeping her distance.
Donny playfully splashed Wicki who laughed and splashed him back. Regan watched them as they began an all out splashing fight. Wicki jumped onto Donny dunking his head. Both men laughed while Regan looked slightly confused. Within the last few days everything had turned into a complete nightmare. Still in shock over what happened, flashes of blood, screams, and then those ugly faces looking down at her as they had their way with her. So much pain it seemed numbing. Shivering, she crossed her arms over her still undeveloped breasts and watched the men laugh as they drenched each other. The one who spoke German seemed kind, while the other one scared her slightly and made her uncomfortable. Still, he had offered his jacket to her. Trying to scrub the feel of those men off her, she watched the two Americas laugh and felt a strange tug in the bottom of her heart.
A few minutes later Wicki handed Regan one of their shirts, dripping wet she took it and quickly changed as the two men who were soaking wet themselves grabbed their clothes. Changing Donny pulled his white T-shirt over his head, his bangs dripping wet. He glanced at Regan slowly changing; her legs bruised and cut up. Sighing, he elbowed Wicki who was bucking his belt.
"Hey man, she okay?"
Wicki shrugged.
"She hasn't said much but at least she's cleaned herself up. Get a little food in her she might be okay."
"She's kinda pretty…look at that hair."
Wicki saw how beautiful and bright her hair looked as Regan began shaking, crossing her arms and looking from side to side.
"She's just a kid."
"How young you think?"
Wicki shrugged.
"Thirteen, maybe fourteen."
Donny watched her for a second before running his hand though his thick black hair. Walking over, he cleared his throat.
"Here…"
He offered his jacket.
Regan looked up and him and gulped. Donny held out the jacket.
"It's cold, go on."
Regan stared at jacket unsure.
Donny tried to smile and spoke slowly.
"Here…it's okay. It's cold…take it."
Regan slowly reached out and took the jacket.
"T-thank…you…"
Her English was terrible but still understandable. Donny looked surprised as Wicki walked over, just tugging his own jacket on. Donny smiled as he came over.
"Man she just said thanks."
Wicki raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
Regan stared at the two.
"My…mother was…t-trying to each me English…I know a little…"
Her German accent was so thick both men could barley understand her.
Donny grinned.
"Can you understand us?"
Regan shrugged making the men laugh. Just then Aldo came walking down the hill, hands on his hips.
"What's all this laughing about?"
Wicki and Donny stood up straight and looked over as Aldo approached.
"She speaks a little English Aldo, just got washed up."
Aldo glared at Regan before taking his knife out. Regan took a step back and on pure instinct Donny stood in front of her.
"Aldo…"
"Just heard some German buzz over the radio. Seems our little lady is a bride to be."
Wicki and Donny looked confused.
"What?"
"Col. Hans Landa…otherwise known as The Jew Hunter."
Donny's brow wrinkled as he shook his head.
"What?"
"Seems Hans was good friends with this gal's family and made himself a few enemies on his own side. A few men who were pissed off came and killed her family, kidnapped her and had their way. Hans is losing his mind trying to find her and that's all that's been over the stations."
Donny turned slightly looking at Regan who was shaking.
Wicki shook his head looking at Aldo.
"Aldo, she's just a kid…"
"Yeah but she hasn't said tin shit. I knew I had a funny feeling about her, and seeing that she's going to become The Jew Hunter's wife…why don't we send her back with a little gift…"
Wicki looked concerned.
"What?"
Aldo smiled.
"I would scar up her pretty little face, but I don't think that would hit below the belt. Instead I have an even better idea."
Donny shot Regan a look who was shaking, turning back his intense eyes locked with Aldo's.
"Which is?"
"Well, it's kinda up to whoever is willing to do it. Plenty of Germans have done it to good Jewish women, might as well do it to The Jew Hunter's bride to be."
Wicki stepped forward, waving his hand as he stared at Aldo with confused and upset eyes.
"What are we talking about?"
Aldo eyed Donny.
"I'm talking about knocking this little German bitch up with a good old Jewish American baby."
Regan's throat escaped a tiny little cry as Wicki stared at Aldo in disbelief and shock.
"Aldo no!"
Regan tried to turn around and start running when Donny grabbed her by the waist, lifting her up Regan screamed, kicking her legs back. Aldo grinned as Wicki stared at both men as if they had gone mad.
Present.
Whitney jingled her keys before letting herself into her condo that overlooked the bay. Excited and giddy, she threw her keys down on the coffee table beside the coat rack and rushed down the hardwood hallway towards the living room.
Philip her fiancé' sat on the sofa with his laptop. Typing away, his blue eyes drifted up once she came rushing in, throwing her purse and bag on the loveseat.
"Hello dear, good day?"
Whitney grinned before walking over, the letter still in her hands. Philip smiled, sitting up straighter before placing his laptop beside him. Whiney then jumped in his lap, one arm going behind his neck.
Philip was nearly twenty years older than Whitney. His thinning hair was brushed back and his face seemed pale and gaunt as sunlight spilled in through the bay windows.
Whitney leaned over and deeply kissed him. Philip smiled through the kiss.
"I take that as a yes."
Whitney drew back, her red bangs falling in her face as she held the letter.
"He wrote back."
Philip smiled.
"Really."
"I didn't think he would but he heard that I'm trying to write a book and is interested in meeting with me. I can't believe it!"
"Wit, he's in his seventies…maybe he's just a crazed freak."
"A crazed freak who is going to make my job much easier."
Philip smiled.
"So, you think you'll finally uncover the truth behind the bastards?"
Whitney lazily smiled before quickly kissing him again.
"Maybe…"
Slipping off his lap, she headed down the hall to her office, excited to call her best friend Lucy she slipped inside the room that faced the back deck. The window slightly open the wind chime she had hung up gently jingled as a breeze blew the curtains in and out slowly.
The office was covered in maps from World War II. Photographs collected from museums and around the world of any evidence of The Bastards. Clues, she had spent thousands on, pieces of fabric, uniforms, old pistols and canteens. Maps and charts with pins stuck into them, photos in black and white of the men who were now known as legend. Her biggest photograph was the rarest…one of The Bear Jew.
The photograph she had blown up twice its size and was framed above her desk. Its quality was gritty and faded, but there stood a 6'4 muscular towering man. His hair jet black and a baseball bat hanging by his side.
The Bear Jew was the Bastard she was the most fascinated with.
Sitting in her chair she quickly dialed Lucy's number on her phone before getting her voice mail. Rolling her eyes she leaned over to talk into the speaker.
"Lucy it's me Whitney. Get back to me ASAP. He wrote me back! You're not going to believe it!"
Smiling, she clicked the phone off before leaning back in her chair. Putting her hands behind her had she looked at the letter laying on her desk before staring up at the framed photograph of The Bear Jew.
That's when her wind chime fell off its hook and shattered to the floor. Jumping, Whitney screamed.
