Prologue: A Painful Past

Lorenz sat nervously at elegant dinner table, all around him were officers in full dress, casually chatting and sharing experience. Lorenz was similarly well dressed, he donned a beautifully crafted blue military jacket complete with a number of fictitious medals together with a white inner shirt, blue tie, blue trousers and custom made bespoke shoes. At his waist was an officer's ceremonial sword. A masterpiece of a weapon with a golden handle and cross guard complete with a few diamonds. Despite the elegant look, the blade was not designed for fighting, the blade was dulled and only the point remained slightly sharp. Gone were the days were people fought with blades, wars were now settled from afar with artillery or air power. The blade itself bore a carving of the name "Cpt. Alexander Lorne". The whole outfit was all a facade, a disguise which allowed Lorenz to easily infiltrate this high level British summit of officers. His mission was to obtain valuable intelligence from the British high command to give Germany an upper hand in the war.

"Would you like some wine, Sir?" Asked a youthful and stunning waitress handling a tray of delicate wine glasses.

"Oh, no thank you!" Lorenz replied in fluent English and a forced accent. He was on an important mission and could not let the alcohol cloud his judgement.

He casually checked his watch again and discovered that the summit will only end in thirty minutes. He decided he had some time and got up to mingle with other officers.

"Ah Captain Lorne, such a pleasure for you to join us!" said a jolly British officer motioning to him to join a circle of likewise smiling and welcoming officers.

"The pleasure is mine, Captain Leonardo, Captain Williams!" Lorenz replied shaking hands with his 'fellow' officers.

"Ah let me tell you lads, Captain Lorne here, shot down 5 enemy planes during the Battle over Britain! What an excellent pilot he was!" exclaimed Captain Leonardo.

"Ah, you give me too much credit Leonardo, you were the aerial ace after all!" Lorenz replied, inciting laughter from the rest of the officers.

Beneath the jolly exterior, Leonardo's words affected him more than he cared to show. Indeed, he was at the Battle of Britain. However, he was there not as Alexander Lorne, but as Lorenz Von Clausewitz.

The year was 1940, the Luftwaffe (German Airforce) launched Operation Eagle Attack, a move that hoped to wipe out the Royal Airforce as an effective fighting force. Lorenz was a young man, barely 22 years of age, in his trusty and reliable Messerschmitt Bf 109, the core German fighter of the entire war. He shared a special bond with his aircraft and it had got him out of trouble numerous times. This time he was flying an escort detail for a group of heavy bombers. The pilot of the lead bomber was his childhood friend and flying partner Fredrich Schmitt.

He and Fredrich went back a long way. They had played and fantasized about joining the air force since they were children in their home town of Schildau, a small quiet town in the district Nordsachsen, Germany. They would run in the fields to catch a fleeting glimpse of the aircraft flying overhead. Lorenz could still remember the whirl of the engines as the planes when by. Lorenz enlisted for the air force the moment he became 18 and quickly graduated with honours from the flying school because of his exceptional flying prowess.

When war broke out in 1939, Lorenz participated in a number of sorties against French and Belgium positions. Fredrich joined the air force soon after and the pair became inseparable flying buddies. Tragedy struck when his Lorenz's family home was struck by indiscriminate strategic bombings.

"No! No! Mommy! Daddy! Sister!" he cried as he rummaged through the ruins of what was once a great mansion.

He spent 2 days digging through the rubble but never found their bodies. By this time his eyes were bloodshot and his hands were covered in blisters and splinters. It was only through the help of his friend did he get back on his feet and return to active service. Schmitt was like family to him and would do everything in his power to make sure he was safe.

The radio chatter from high command gave the bombers their targets and Fredrich steered his lumbering bomber on a beeline to the target. Lorenz followed closely behind like a mother protecting her children. In the distance, Lorenz could see several small shapes rising rapidly to engage them. He signalled the rest of his fighters. The battle was about the begin.

The enemy fielded 4 Spitfires and 4 Hurricanes which quickly rose to intercept the bombers. Lorenz dived towards the enemy fighters in an attempt to draw them off from the primary targets. Locking the enemy Spitfire in his sights, Lorenz fired burst after burst of machine gun fire at the enemy plane. It quickly veered off after a few near misses and Lorenz banked right to pursue him. The enemy pilot was experienced and utilised his superior manoeuvrability to dodge Lorenz's volleys.

A few close shots from the back told him that an enemy was on his tail. Lorenz quickly broke off the chase and climbed steeply hoping to catch the enemy off guard. The ploy worked, the enemy Hurricane pilot failed to change his course swiftly enough and Lorenz managed to put 4 good shots into his right wing, destroying the flaps and hindering the enemy's ability to steer. The enemy plane lost altitude quickly and the fuselage was soon falling apart. The pilot quickly bailed out of his aircraft as the smoking remains of the hurricane exploded in a fireball on the fields below. Lorenz decided against shooting the downed British pilot and returned to engaging the remaining enemy fighters.

Radio chatter revealed that the battle was going poorly for the rest of his fighters. Of the 9 fighters he started with initially, only 5 were left against 6 enemy planes. Lorenz's sudden re-entry to the main battle caught an enemy Spitfire off guard which he quickly made short work off.

One of the enemy fighters made a strafing run on the lead plane, Schmitt's bomber. The enemy scored many successive hits on the right engine and it was soon set ablaze, black smoke trailing the ruined engine.

"Mayday! Mayday! We have lost power in engine 2! Our steering is compromised!" Schmitt shouted over the radio.

"Get out of there Schmitt! I will cover your retreat!" Lorenz commanded over the radio.

"No! We are so close to our target! Maintaining this course, time on target 2 minutes! Keep them off me!" Schmitt said over the radio.

Lorenz noticed the enemy fighter turning around for another run and pushed his plane's engine into overdrive to catch the enemy fighter. However, he was too far away, the enemy fighter fired a few volleys into Schmitt's bomber fuselage and the entire structure started to give way.

"NO!" Lorenz shouted as he swerved to catch the retreating enemy Hurricane. Lorenz locked the enemy plane into his sites and emptied the remainder of the machine gun ammunition with a vengeance. The Hurricane's engine caught fire and disintegrated mid air in a ball of fire.

The remaining British fighters were turning tail but Schmitt's plane had taken serious damage and was hardly holding together.

"Schmitt! Status report!" when there was no answer, he ordered again a bit more worriedly "Schmitt, what is your status!"

"I'm hit! Hans and Kruger are dead! We are losing fuel! I don't think we can make it!" Schmitt groaned over the radio.

"You are going to make it, you hear me!" Lorenz cried desperately just as he saw the bomber's remaining engine burst into flames.

"NO! Engine 1 is down we have lost all propulsion! We are going down! I repeat, we are going down! Bail out!" Schmitt shouted to his crew.

Lorenz saw two figures parachute from the rapidly descending bomber but never saw a third.

A stark voice came over the radio. "Time on target 1 minute!" It was Schmitt.

"What are you doing! Your plane is wrecked, bail out now!" Lorenz shouted desperately into the radio.

"Someone's got to take this bomber to it target, and besides…" there was a short pause, "I am not one to be taken prisoner!"

"No! No! Don't do this to me Schmitt!"

"I have to Lorenz, it is my duty to the Fatherland." Schmitt said grimly.

"You don't have to do this!" Lorenz cried, almost to tears. "Leutnant Schmitt, this is Oberleutnant Clauswitz, I am giving you a direct order to bail out from your aircraft!" Lorenz tried, desperately trying to avert the impending tragedy.

"I am sorry Sir, this one order I cannot obey! Time on target 20 seconds." Schmitt stated sadly, close to tears himself.

"It's funny huh?" Schmitt chuckled. "It feels like only yesterday that we were 2 wide eyed boys staring at the machines we now pilot."

Lorenz could only sob quietly in the plane.

"Promise me… Promise me you will take care of yourself, and that you will do the Fatherland proud!" with that the radio cut off into static as Schmitt's bomber crashed into an airfield of RAF fighters neatly parked in a straight line. The resulting explosion detonated a nearby ammunition store which resulted in a huge deadly explosion that engulfed the entire area.

The flight back to the mainland was long and painful. Lorenz could not stop thinking about his lost friend and how life will be like without him. Fredrich was posthumously awarded the Iron Class 1st Class for his bravery and ultimate sacrifice for the Fatherland. Lorenz was awarded an Iron Cross 2nd class for his 8 confirmed kills over Britain thus far. The award and fancy ceremonies he attended all felt hollow and empty to him. It was just not the same without his lifelong friend.

Despite this, Lorenz continued to fly sorties against the British but his mental state deteriorated and his flying abilities suffered as a result. In a fateful encounter, his BF 109 took critical damage and he was forced to bail out over the English Channel. Luckily a German U-Boat found him and brought him back to the mainland.

His now terrible track record and insubordinate conduct soon got him dismissed from the Luftwaffe. He frequented bars hoping the alcohol will help him escape the pain of the loss. But the same horrible scene haunted him every night. He had lost everyone he ever cared for, his family, his best friend, his home. Just as he thought he was going to lose himself forever, a strange and unfamiliar yet soothing and calming voice visited him in his sleep.

I can sense your pain Lorenz, but you could not do anything to help him. You must stop blaming yourself for things beyond your control. The voice, clearly feminine, said.

"I was there! I saw his plane go down! And I did nothing! NOTHING!" Lorenz sobbed back.

Oh, little one, there was nothing you could do. The voice cooed comfortingly. Your friend made a choice. He chose to do something with his life. For a cause he felt was worthwhile. The voice continued.

Now you must make that choice. Follow your heart, little one. And everything will turn out fine.

"Who… Who are you?" Lorenz asked between sobs.

Who I am is of little importance now. But I'm very sure we will meet, real soon!

The laughing of nearby officers jolted Lorenz back to reality. "Haha! Don't get all teary eyed on me!" Leonardo mused. "Oh, don't flatter yourself Leonardo! I just got something in my eye."

Lorenz caught a glimpse of his watch again. There was only 10 minutes remaining before the end of the summit. The time for action was fast approaching.

"Its been a pleasure gentlemen! I will have to take my leave now." Lorenz calmly said attempting to hide his apprehension.

"Aww, so soon! Williams hasn't even told us about his flight from Dunkirk yet!" Leonardo called back, waving a hearty farewell as he did.

Lorenz walked over to a trolley where a briefcase had been concealed prior to the event and stealthily snatched it out without anyone noticing. He then proceeded upstairs to the cypher room.

As he walked up the grand ornate stairway towards his target, he could not help but think back on the stroke of luck that could very well put his career back on track. He just needed to pull off this mission without hiccup.

The year was 1942, the battle over Britain had been lost despite the best efforts of the Luftwaffe and the war in the East was going poorly as well. The coordinated British bombing of strategic towns was taking a toll on the German war effort and the Luftwaffe was helpless to respond to the numerous attacks. Something needed to be done to counter the British air raids.

This was when the big break for Lorenz came. The Luftwaffe was looking for a single pilot to carry out a daring infiltration to steal the secret British radio cypher code. Due to the secrecy and almost suicidal nature of the mission, not many candidates were hand-picked for the mission. Lorenz, much to his surprise, made the cut despite his now ruined reputation as a pilot. Or perhaps it was his past that made him a suitable candidate, he will never know.

The room he was brought to was poorly lit, with only a single lamp in the middle of an otherwise pitch-dark cell. It looked too much like an interrogation room commonly seen in movies.

"Lorenz Von Clausewitz, Age 24, former Oberleutnant in the Luftwaffe, discharged for insubordinate behaviour, holder of the Iron Cross 2nd Class." Came a voice from the shadows.

The voice continued, "Family was missing after a bombing in 1939 and best friend killed in the Battle over Britain in 1940." A file was slammed on the table containing his details.

"You must be wondering why we called you in here today?" The voice enquired.

"What do you want from me?" Lorenz asked nonchalantly.

"I want to offer you a chance, Lorenz. A chance for you to make things right." The figure appeared from the shadows, a grown man easily 45 years of age with numerous medals and decorations on his neatly pressed Luftwaffe Officer jacket.

"I am Oberstleutnant Victor Hermann of the Luftwaffe Special Operations Command. The war is not going well. The British have free reign over our cities and are terrorising civilians." The officer explained.

"We need a breakthrough! The Fatherland needs a breakthrough to turn the tide of the air battle." Victor paused. "This is where you come in!"

"What can I, a single former pilot, do that can turn the tide of the war." Lorenz retorted questioningly.

"You see, wars are not just won on the battlefield, they are won in intelligence also. The side with better intelligence has an undisputed edge over the other." Victor explains enthusiastically.

Turning to face Lorenz and eying him closely, Victor slowly said "You, will be providing us with this edge."

Victor explained what was needed of him in great detail. He also provided Lorenz with a card stating the location he was to go to the next morning should he choose to accept this undertaking. The mission sounded really easy. All he needed to do was to infiltrate a meeting of high ranking officers and steal a copy of the British secret cypher code. But of course, there was a catch, he will be working mostly alone behind enemy lines and the chance of failure and capture was insanely high.

Successfully completing the mission would get him reinstated to the Luftwaffe complete with full military honours, including a Knight's Cross, and even a promotion. It sounded like a really sweet deal, and with nothing more to lose, Lorenz accepted the mission.

The next day arrived soon enough and Lorenz made his way to the designated coordinates. He approached what looked like an old dock house by the ocean, obscured from the sky by thick foliage.

"Ah, you decided to come after all! I feared you might not have take up my offer." Victor exclaimed from the door of the old shack as he led Lorenz inside. There he as presented with a new identity he was to assume, a Captain Alexander Lorne, complete with false birth records, military service history and even fictitious medals. He studied the character intently for a while, learning all his supposed exploits and quirks.

"There is another critical but less important component for this mission I forgot to mention." Victor added. "You will be granted access to one of our new prototype aircraft to cross the English Channel and meet your informant." Victor explained while leading Lorenz outside to the boat quay.

"This marvel of technology was created in utmost secrecy and can travel much faster than any aircraft to date. If all goes well, this could very well be the first operational jet fighter in history!" Victor excitedly explained.

"Your mission will be a testbed for us to analyse the efficiency of this new aircraft." Victor said as he turned on the lights to the small boat quay to reveal a sleek, futuristic looking aircraft. The plane was a fixed wing aircraft with 2 turbo jet engines, one under each wing. This model was fitted with fixed floats instead of wheels for water landings. The plane was given a fearsome name, The Sturmvogel, or more commonly known as the Messerschmitt Me 262.

Lorenz packed the necessary equipment into the plane and made final preparations for departure. Since this model was built for reconnaissance, it featured no weapons and lighter armour but greater cargo space and a higher top speed as a result.

"It's time. I wish you the best of luck, Lorenz. Do the Fatherland proud!" Victor said as Lorenz entered the cockpit and fired up the jet turbines. Lorenz gave a final salute to Victor before heading out with his new prototype aircraft.

The engines purred like a kitten as he took the aircraft up without a hitch. The unrivalled speed of this aircraft shocked even a veteran pilot like himself. The aircraft easily managed a speed more than double that of a British Spitfire. He flew low to avoid the British radar net and potential enemy patrols making a beeline for the secluded beach his informant would be waiting at to take him to the summit. The flight took little more than an hour and Lorenz infiltrated the summit without any issues or suspicion at all. All seemed to be going well, for now.

"Good evening Sir!" A greeting from a passing officer shocked him out of his deep thought. He quickly returned the salute and continued up the stairway. The summit will be ending soon, and once it did, the hallways will be packed with high ranking and junior officers alike who would be mingling and enjoying the amities. During this time, the cypher room will be empty and perfect for Lorenz to cease the valuable documents.

Approaching the cypher room, he saluted the guard outside and presented his fake access pass. The guard suspected nothing and allowed Lorenz inside. Once inside the clock was ticking. Lorenz headed for the safe where the codes were stored and entered the combination provided by the informant as well as a key that was ceased earlier. The safe squeaked open cleanly to reveal a single file. Lorenz grabbed the contents of the file and replaced it with a fake document. He then took out a lighter he pickpocketed from another British officer earlier and threw it into the trash bin filled with paper.

He quickly and calmly walked out of the cypher room, saluting the oblivious guard as he went by. Thankfully, the water sprinklers did not go off. The informant did do his job well after all. Lorenz briskly approached the parking lot where the informant was waiting with a posh car. Lorenz exited the building as planned and only after he was well away did he head fire alarms blaring in the distance. He had just committed the perfect crime.

He boarded his Me 262 and began his triumphant flight back home. Smiling to himself the entire way as he brought the plane to its cruising speed. However, he noticed that a strange storm was coming from the mainland. The weather reports had predicted clear skies for at least another 3 days. The waves became rough and strong winds hindered his progress. He cursed in German and increased his altitude to stay out of the potentially deadly surf putting him well into British radar range. The storm got worst by the second pushing his plane around with gale force winds.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck his right engine, frying the circuitry and setting the engine ablaze. The plane started to spin out of control. Lorenz desperately cut power from the other engine to compensate and attempted to straighten out of his death spin. He was successful but the aircraft was rapidly losing power and altitude. Lorenz desperately restarted the remaining engine to regain some thrust. Disoriented by the loss of control and have no visibility at all in the terrible almost unnatural storm, Lorenz felt a sense of dread creeping over him. He was so close to completing his mission only to be foiled by mother nature.

Then he heard it.

You are almost there! Keep going! That voice, the same voice that saved him from madness months prior. He thought it was all a dream but he was hearing it now. Loud and clear in his mind. Was he dreaming? Was this even real?

With new resolve, Lorenz pushed his aircraft forward attempting to fly out of the storm. Out in the distance ahead of him he caught fleeting glimpses, through the flash of lightning, of a strange flying figure. It looked like a long wide winged aircraft but its silhouette matched nothing he had seen before. Was he seeing things now?

He kept going, following the direction of the strange silhouette. Finally, after a few agonising minutes he cleared the storm and burst out the other side to clear skies and the mainland ahead of him. The storm that had so suddenly appeared had just as inexplicable dissipated. Lorenz breathed a sigh of relief as he flew toward what he thought was the mainland.

Something was not right. The land features of the mainland looked very different from what he had expected. There was a large island to the right of him that looked like a volcanic island with a huge peak rising up in the centre of it. There was also some dim lighting coming from the base of the mountain indicating the presence of some city.

Strange, he thought. With all the night air raids going on surely people should know better than to turn on their lights at night to give bombers an easy target.

The mainland in front of him was an unfamiliar heavily forested mountain range stretching from one end of the coast to extend further down as far as he could see. This looked nothing like the coast of Belgium. Worried that he might still be in hostile territory, Lorenz searched for any recognisable land marks but found nothing. Have I really been blown so far off course?

His thoughts were interrupted with the sudden failure of his remaining engine. The engine sputtered and soon flames appeared from the inner section. Losing altitude and trailing thick black smoke, Lorenz shut off the engine and tried to make a controlled crash into the ocean below.

However, he was losing altitude too fast and could not slow his descent sufficiently. The plane impacted and skidded across the ocean surface bouncing up as it did. The force of the impact ripped off the 2 fixed floats. The next hit knocked off one of the ruined engines and snapped the aircraft's wing in the process but manged to slow the aircraft enough to come to an eventual stop in the ocean.

Lorenz, still dazed by the crash, was slow to react as the cabin slowly filled with water. Ejecting the cockpit roof, Lorenz grabbed his all-important briefcase and an emergency survival pack before bailing out of the aircraft. He slowly swam to the shore as his ruined Me 262 sank beneath the waves. Weighed down by his thick dress uniform and sword, progress was tiring and slow. Eventually, he reached the shore and collapsed from exhaustion on the beach of this strange continent.