The Red-Shining Sun

From the beginning, this business of going to Airborne school for three weeks this coming summer had been deadly serious. Hans had needed to join the German Army- literally called that even in German, "Deutsches Heer"- before he could even be considered. Basic training in Germany had taken a month and a half and been challenging, but Hans was up for it.

At seventeen years old, he was in superb shape, working out regularly with highly intensive four-mile runs a part of his weekly routine. Hans had graduated on time from basic with the German Army's basic armour school in June, and on July 1st was sent to Fort Benning, Georgia to attend the United States Army's Airborne School. There were ten other Germans present and a lot of ROTC cadets, as well as a handful of cadets from the American military college, the one the Army operated at West Point, New York.

The Germans of the summer 2005 class were not exactly what any of the ROTC cadets had expected they would be. Too many Americans grew up- even in 2005, a full sixty years since the end of World War II- knowing about Germans only what they had gleaned from a lot of video games, movies and pop culture references- the majority of which, even in the 21st century, are focused on the Nazi years and a Germany long since vanished into the past.

Instead, the German soldiers of today- two of whom had already passed the German airborne infantry school in Altenstadt, Bavaria- were a completely different kind of German soldier. They were not taught to obey orders unquestioningly, but instead to always consider the moral implications of what they were doing. To not act blindly, but carefully- and always, to be accountable to their conscience before anyone or anything else.

The days of blind obedience in the German Army had been over for years by the time Hans Schreuder came to Fort Benning in the summer of 2005. However, this was not to suggest that they were not skilled in the tasks and drills of being a soldier, or that they did not know how to obey their superiors inside and outside of combat. The difference simply was that the modern German soldier was expected to obey his conscience most of all. Too many had died because of the mistakes of the past- because the old Germany had let its collective conscience fall by the wayside in its pursuit of greatness. The soldiers of the new Germany- the ones that accompanied Hans Schreuder to Airborne school that summer- were a completely different breed of soldier from the ones their grandfathers and great-grandfathers had been, but they were unmistakably German soldiers.

Used to seeing foreign soldiers come through from time to time- and thankful that the Germans in particular could be trusted to reliably speak English- the airborne instructors were demanding just as they were with any of the others to come through their school. Hans spent a lot of time shouting "Yes, Sergeant Airborne!" or "No, Sergeant Airborne!" and doing a lot of things very well, very quickly. Or rather, learning to- and then doing them that way. In Airborne school, Hans right away, there was only one speed. Not your speed, or even the Army's speed, but Sergeant Airborne's speed. It was the only one that counted and that was the speed at which every task and drill would be done.

Of course, after already attending Basic Armored Troops School with the German Army in June and having done extensive, regular workouts and runs for over a year prior to basic, Hans was in superb shape when he reached Airborne school. The course was still demanding for Hans, each of the three weeks a challenge. He had to pay attention every minute of every day, and to be ready to give it 110% at any time. Of course, there was a difference between being ready to give it your all and then some, and actually doing it.

Something Hans realised within the first week was that you needed to pace yourself; you would never last if you were quite literally throwing yourself into it and then some, every minute of the day. You were just gonna wear yourself out that doing it like that. It was a hard lesson for many of the ROTC and West Point cadets to learn- for they turned out to make up the entirety of Hans' class besides himself and the other nine Germans. Hans, a fast learner who was rapidly growing into a skilled soldier, taught the cadets his way as best he could, teaching them to pace themselves and not drive too hard, too often. Many of them listened, and of those who did nearly all of them ultimately made it.

The Germans with Hans were all young soldiers, some attending as part of completing their commando training for assignment to Germany's Special Operations Division, and the oldest of them was Lukas Wilhelm, the twenty-year-old sergeant with two first names. Strong-jawed and handsome, he quickly nicknamed the consulate staff member's son "Bubi Hans", effectively nicknaming him "Baby Hans" due to his being not only the youngest German soldier present, but the youngest in the entire airborne class.

Hans was not only young- 17- but he looked it too, so a nickname like the one he was given was more or less inevitable. In spite of this, however, Hans earned not only the respect of his fellow Germans but of all the American cadets, going by the words of the Latin motto: "Facta Non Verba", or "Actions Not Words". Hans believed not in bragging or bravado, not in telling someone all about what you were going to do, but in simply stepping up and doing it. And doing it so well that even a hundred years later, people would still step back and marvel at how well you did it.

It was a common attitude among Germans, the reason their cars, tanks and aircraft, their machine guns and electronics equipment, stood among the very best in the world in the 21st century. The cause of this was not so much a relentless pursuing of excellence- which was true in its own way- but a matter-of-fact intolerance for anything that wasn't done right. To a German, if something was to be done at all, it was to be done as well as possible. Otherwise it was shoddy work, not worth the maker's or the customer's time.

Hans had come to Airborne school hoping to give his English some practice- which he did, though truth be told he actually spoke perfect English- but ended up speaking almost as much German instead. Among the ROTC and West Point cadets were several who were learning the language that the foreign soldiers spoke, and in the off time they had in the evenings Hans and the other Germans were often asked if they would be willing to help a West Point or ROTC cadet practice his German. Hans was grateful for the chance, too- though of course he had to pretend to be calm and gracious in granting these requests when he had time, rather than elated at the chance to continue practicing his German and making sure he did indeed speak it fluently.

The American cadets, despite being several years older than Hans- in 19-21 to his 17- were also coming to him for advice on PT, parachute rigging or just general curiosities about Hans' mottled, dark green-brown uniform and the German Army in general. The American college boys had so many questions for the German teenager, and it was a wonder Hans found time to answer even half of them. They were so curious, those American cadets. They had never met German soldiers before and knew they had a rare opportunity to learn about them firsthand. All of the Germans at Airborne for that class were professionals, polite and respectful to both their instructors and to the American classmates alongside them.

The American boys seemed particularly interested in "Bubi Hans", however; they were amazed a teenager who was not even finished high school was not only attending airborne school but excelling at it. Hans was up front in the formation on every PT run, and sometimes when he was walking around the barracks in his trousers and boots after the end of the day's training Hans was sure he could see one or two of the American cadets trying not to gawk at the German teenager's impressive physique. Impressive might have been an inadequate word, however; Hans was more than impressive. He could almost surpass the instructors at their own PT games. His shoulders were massive, boulder-like things, looking as if at a quick flex they could block up a doorway. His arms were like a football player's- professional, not high school- and Hans' paving-slab-like pecs overshadowed a cobblestone of six strong ab muscles that was steadily growing to eight. The other Germans were impressed- after enough nights of Hans being seen shirtless in the barracks the name "Bubi Hans" certainly saw less use- but they also knew how to conceal this better than the American cadets, some of whom almost literally gawked when they saw what incredible shape the teenager was in.

The American ROTC and West Point cadets' respect for Hans went beyond just his physical condition, however. They were impressed enough at his quiet courage, his willingness to volunteer and his calm, steely resolve to be the best at absolutely everything. Hans could have swaggered around the barracks like a modern teenage Hercules, but instead chose not to- he preferred to remain a more subtle figure, letting his actions instead speak for him. The Americans- and the Germans- all respected him for that.

On the final day of Airborne school- the last day and the first night jump had been saved for this last day of Jump Week by a kind and caring set of Sergeant Airborne's- Hans got a fantastic idea. The 0500 PT run was unexpectedly moved up to 0430, with the result that when the airborne instructors got up to wake their charges for formation, they noticed a most unusual sound.

Coming up the road past the barracks- distant but growing louder every second- a formation of some 50 soldiers, all of them joyously shouting the same words. The same song. An airborne song, but not an American one, and a lot of the American cadets in the formation struggled to keep up with the words. All of them enjoyed immensely, however, the upbeat, rousing cadence of the song. It was clearly intended to steel the nerves of men who had every right to be scared, but had volunteered to surrender that right. They would do better- be better- and this song was all about that.

Rot scheint die Sonne, fertig gemacht
Wer weiß ob sie morgen für uns auch noch lacht?
Werft an die Motoren, schiebt Vollgas hinein,
Startet los, flieget ab, heute geht es zum Feind!
An die Maschinen, an die Maschinen,
Kamerad, da gibt es kein zurück!
Fern im Osten stehen dunkle Wolken
Komm' mit und zage nicht, komm' mit!

As the formation jogged up to the front of their barracks and halted before their stunned instructors, Hans- and more than a few of the others- had to fight to keep a grin off his face. This was clearly a new one.

The PT they had for that morning's scheduled run was the hardest the July 22nd, 2005 class had ever endured, not to mention it doubled the number of miles they ran from four to eight. The instructors cleverly pointed out that even if the Krauts wanted to get everybody up to sing some German airborne cadences, the Americans were still running this school and had the morning's PT schedule at 0500, and that had not been done yet. Even so, the cadets and soldiers alike all but laughed their way through it- they knew and the sergeants knew that they were just hours away from being badge-wearing paratroopers. They had made it.

The ten Germans and their forty American ROTC and West Point comrades continued to enjoy their newfound and fierce comradeship at morning mess; Hans suddenly had a thousand new questions about the German airborne forces. Where had that song come from, who wrote it- was it still used today? Those and so many more were fired at Hans like so many bullets from an enemy's rifle.

He answered them all as best he could: the 1940's, Friedrich Schäfer- himself a member of the legendary 6th Fallschirmjäger Regiment- and yes. Some of the German-speaking students- like Jason Watterson of West Point- asked about the name of the song and what exactly the lyrics and title meant in English.

That part was harder for Hans to answer. A good student of languages can find that many- surprisingly many- phrases and terms can be translated from one language to another. Sometimes one can even discover how similar words can be between languages and between cultures- and laugh at the irony that while the French and Germans cheerfully fought and killed each other for hundreds of years they sometimes had surprisingly similar words for things. However, that was not a guarantee. From German to English, just as from German to French, some things translated awkwardly or didn't make the transition at all. The name of the song, Hans told Watterson, was "Red Shines the Sun" in its most literal form.

Its lyrics featured many themes quite familiar to any nation's paratrooper- facing the enemy in spite of one's fear, fighting for the honour of the fatherland and for the love of your family at home. The close, fierce comradeship of the paratroopers- and the excitement that every one of those elite troops knew when it was time for a jump. One repeated theme was "no retreat"; you heard it in each verse, with the words "Kamerad, da gibt es kein zurück".

That came out as "Comrade, there is no going back," and it served well to show that the Fallschirmjäger had not been in the business of retreating. You fought with everything you had and made no plans of surrender or retreat. As long s you had strength with which to fight, you fought.

Hans explained all that as best he could, answering questions about particular lines in each of the three verses, but some he could not offer a straight translation for, and had to explain more carefully. The song, even if you got a passable translation into English, still didn't rhyme. There were some parts of "Rot Scheint die Sonne" that simply were unique to the German language, and why not? It was a song for, by and about the Fallschirmjäger- airborne troops of Germany. The very toughest and best in the world.

Not all of the Germans themselves had known the song by heart, but Feldwebel Wilhelm had, as did Obergefreiter Montag, the other Fallschirmjägertruppen Schule graduate in the group. When Hans had asked during the second week, they had been more than willing to teach it to him, smiling as they guessed his intention.

The German Army's modern airborne troops stood proudly as some of the finest anywhere in the world, hence their motto: Einsatzbereit, Jederzeit, Weltweit, meaning "Ready for Action, Anytime, Worldwide". German fallschirmäger had been the first-ever airborne troops to jump into combat, doing so over Crete in 1941, and the "Green Devils" of World War II remained legends in the history of airborne forces worldwide.

While no modern-day German airborne unit traced lineage back to the 1940's- the entire German military had been reconstituted and reorganized after World War II- the Fallschirmjäger of the modern day still looked back to their grandfathers' actions and elite status with admiration, showing it by dedicating themselves to attaining that same skill and prowess in combat. The old song of the 1940's Fallschirmjäger was another piece of German airborne history that had survived to the modern day; its use wasn't official, but virtually every German paratrooper knew it. Official recognition of this didn't really matter.

But Hans' disruptive and uniquely daring act of the morning did not end there. During the march to the airfield for the final day jump, as the class neared closed within sight of the C-130 transport they would be riding out to the drop zone, Hans began singing aloud the second verse of the song. Before long Wilhelm, Montag and the rest of the Germans had picked it up, and not long after that the ROTC and West Point cadets started singing it, the better German speakers among them almost following the words as well as the German soldiers themselves.

Donnern Motoren, Gedanken allein,
Denkt jeder noch schnell an die Lieben daheim.
Dann kommt Kameraden, zum Sprung das Signal,
Wir fliegen zum Feind, zünden dort das Fanal!
Schnell wird gelandet, schnell wird gelandet,
Kamerad, da gibt es kein Zurück!
Hoch am Himmel stehen dunkle Wolken,
Komm mit und zage nicht, komm mit!

Not as surprised at this as they had been the first time, the airborne instructors let it go, but vowed- to the Germans in particular, knowing they were behind all this for painfully obvious reasons- that no such "nonsense" would be tolerated on the C-130 today, or tonight. Naturally, Hans exchanged a few knowing smiles with his comrades in the German Army- a third verse still needed to be sung, and the airborne instructors' words could only be taken as a challenge.

So while the German and American students at this three-week cycle of airborne school made their evening march to the airfield without fuss or incident, a specific plan had already been worked out beforehand. The American cadets had briefed on part of it- the rest was shared only between Hans and the other nine Germans.

As the C-130 took off from the airstrip after dark, the men aboard excited beyond words at knowing this was their final jump before graduation tomorrow morning, Hans exchanged a few quiet smiles with the trainees around him. The Americans thought the plan was merely to sing the final verse of the song, which they had been trained in briefly during a little down-time in the barracks. It had to be done quietly, mostly through writing down the words and reminding them of the tune. But the American cadets didn't need to know that the German soldiers present for this cycle had a plan that was a little more ambitious than that. Only the Germans needed to know.

Listening to the roar of the four propeller engines as they began the ten-minute flight to the drop zone, Hans' heart raced with excitement. This was easily the most thrilling thing he'd done in his life- and he'd been living dangerously for one long, intense year before he'd ever joined the Army. There was just nothing like getting ready to steal your senior airborne instructor's hat- the iconic Black Hat with silver Airborne wings that each and every one of the instructors wore- right on the date of your first and final jump in Airborne School. Nothing like it in the world.

Hans had anticipated that the instructors might try to silence the Germans from singing their song on the plane. If yelling it like they no doubt would out of enthusiasm and to out-shout the engines, the German soldiers' singing would make the instructors' words difficult to hear. If the American West Point and ROTC cadets joined in, it would be next to impossible. And that was exactly the plan. Secondly, Hans had figured that only one man should be the one to steal Sergeant First Class Patrick Milburn's black hat, and of course he had volunteered to be the one that did it.

He would work out the plan of just how on his own- in fact he was still doing that right now, riding in one of the flat bench seats in the C-130's massive cargo bay- but the plan for what would be done next when the instructors came for Milburn's hat was already worked out. Each man would slip it off to another while they were being questioned together, taking advantage of momentary distractions and the natural inclination of the sergeants to focus their attention on the man they were currently questioning. That way, the game would continue just as long as was necessary, and Sergeant Airborne would never get back his Black Hat.

When Milburn, standing at the front of the troop bay, shouted for the men to stand up, that was the signal. Hans and the other Germans began shouting out the words of the third verse, not even caring as they and the cadets went through the necessary pre-jump checks on their own- doing so just as they'd been taught- over the outraged shouts of the instructors. Hans lifted his voice, really warming to the song as he went. It made him almost wish he was… truly what he claimed to be. Being a German soldier at American airborne school was awesome- no doubt about it.

Klein unser Häuflein, wild unser Blut,
Wir fürchten den Feind nicht und auch nicht den Tod,
Wir wissen nur eines, wenn Deutschland in Not,
Zu kämpfen, zu siegen, zu sterben den Tod.
An die Gewehre, an die Gewehre!
Kamerad, da gibt es kein Zurück!
Fern im Westen stehen dunkle Wolken,
Komm mit und zage nicht, komm mit!

Then the green light came on, and a thoroughly-pissed Sergeant Milburn shouted, "SCHREUDER! Stand in the fuckin' DOOR!"

"Yes, Sergeant Airborne!" Hans shouted obediently, as if nothing unusual had happened. The head of his jump "stick" of ten men, Hans stood in the doorway, bracing himself briefly as the roar of the wind and the engines hit him in full.

Then Hans did it.

In a lightning-fast movement, so quick some of the ROTC cadets weren't even sure it had happened, Hans snatched Sergeant Milburn's black hat clean off his head and with one powerful flex of his athlete's legs threw himself clear of the aircraft- diving out headfirst, as the Fallschirmjäger of World War II had done. It was a grave risk in the daytime given how those past German airborne troops had jumped that way out of necessity- that was simply how their parachutes worked- but at nighttime it was positively insane. But he did it anyway, and laughed his ass off as he righted himself, deployed his chute and sang all three verses of the song on the way down. The stars shone above him, the ground was a dark emerald and brown beneath him, and Cody Banks felt absolutely free.

Notes:

First off, for clarification, this story is set in the summer of 2005, when Cody would be about 17 if I have it right. His graduation from high school would be close at hand, coming up in June of 2006. His attending the German Army's Basic Armour School and the U.S. Army's Airborne School would have occurred the summer before his senior year. The CIA's principal motive for having him go to BAS and AS would be so Cody has an even greater degree of fitness and professional skill- CIA operatives need to be able to assume many disguises, go many places and fill many roles. Cody Banks now knowing how to be a German tanker or an American paratrooper would be an immense credit to his usefulness as an operative.

I got the idea for this story after I thought about a sort-of sequel to "Cody's Home". The decision is made here to send Cody as a German- Hans Schreuder- partly to give him a great opportunity to practice a foreign language as he would doubtless be learning one, and partly so Cody can learn more about covers and false identities more complicated than being another type of American. Pretending to be a German- and simultaneously convincing Americans and other Germans- is no easy task, and it says a lot about his skill and dedication that Cody manages to do both so well, as I imagine he would. His girlfriend- Natalie Connors in my preceding story- would likely have only acquiesced to Cody attending German Army basic and Airborne on the condition that he take the whole rest of the summer off after that, CIA or no.

The song I use in this story is real, as are the lyrics and the man who I state as its author, Friedrich Schäfer. I have no idea, however, who Schäfer was. His service with the 6th FJR is mentioned as an explanation of who he was and why he wrote the song. It would make sense that a song so clearly indicative of the elite status and intense comradeship of the Fallschirmjäger would be written by one of their own. Another German military song, "Panzerlied", was written by a tank crewman in the German Army during World War II, so I could see "Rot Scheint die Sonne" as having similar origins.

Soldiers of the German Army really can attend the U.S. Army Airborne School at Fort Benning, Georgia. Allies and even neighbors of the United States often cooperate on such things. Germany, France and the United Kingdom are the most cooperative- American servicemen go to a number of their elite service schools each year, and vice versa. I have met U.S. Marines who had completed the Royal Marine Commando course in England.

The armed forces of today are surprisingly interconnected- just another sight of how this really is one planet and we've got to find some way of living with each other. However that may sound, it's true. I personally have hardly ever been more proud of humanity than when I learned a few years ago that British, French, German and American soldiers were all serving together in Afghanistan. Two hundred years ago soldiers of those four nations couldn't have been put in a room without fighting each other within the hour; now they are all comrades, standing together and fighting for the same thing. Gives one reason to have hope for the future.

Last of all, Cody's theft of Sergeant Airborne's hat is based off a real incident at the Fort Benning school years ago, when a team of Navy SEALs just out of BUD/S had one of their number steal the senior sergeant's hat during a jump and then worked together to hide it afterwards, each feigning ignorance over who had stolen the hat and what had become of it. If Cody Banks one day wrote an autobiography or some memoirs, as one of the mentioned Navy SEALs did, I could easily see him ending the chapter about this part of his life with these words: Wenn Sie dies lesen, Feldwebel Fallschirmjäger, haben wir noch Ihre verdammtes Hut.

"If you are reading this, Sergeant Airborne, we still have your fucking hat."