All The Way
Chapter 34
German translation at the end of the chapter.
El-'Alamein, Egypt
The last rays of the sun dipped below the rim of the Qattara Depression leaving the small town of El-'Alamein in deep shadows. The Mediterranean Sea formed a deep blue curtain to the north and to the southeast the Libyan Desert spread like a dark carpet into the dark of the sky. The heat of the day quickly dissipated into the cloudless sky, the stars taking shape as the last photons of light disappeared.
Between El-'Alamein and the Libyan Desert, lay a massive octagonal building. A small gateway led to a central chamber containing a gold mosaic cross. Surrounding the cross, were seven high obelisks made of basalt, German basalt. A figure knelt before one of the obelisks and with trembling hands lit a candle. The glow from the candle illuminated the smooth jet-black surface of the stone.
Slowly, the figure pushed back the hood of the burnoose, head reverently bowed, recalling the Arabic inscription outside the monument, he murmured.
'Here, 6,000 German soldiers fell and rest, the desert would not give back the other 12,000.'
The collector inhaled, feeling the spirits, leaning forward, fingers tracing the carved letters of 'Bavaria'. Lips quivering, he placed his cheek against the sleek surface, and felt the warmth spread through him like the touch of a comrade.
"Pimpfs1" he whispered over and over. Eyes closed, body slumping, his face and arms embraced the obelisk. The soft warmth of the stone began to lull him into a deep sleep.
"Wo bist du?2 Mein pimpfs?" The collector whispered. The warmth of the stone lulled his mind to the comfort of a warm day in Bavaria.
The sun was warm the day he stood at attention, waiting his turn. He had spent the morning assembling his uniform, making sure every piece was in place, the heavy black shoes polished to a high sheen, the brown shirt with a swastika armband and his trench cap. He was proud of the blue-black stripe that read "HJ-Streifendienst"3. He had been chosen to be among the elite. Proudly, he had completed his "mutprobe", his test of courage. He had easily jumped from the 30-foot tower without hesitation. In his heart, he knew he was ready for far more challenging tests of courage.
His time was growing near, as the boys ahead of him received their medals. His heart pounded with excitement. This would be the most important and profound moment of his life. From the corner of his eye, he watched the man approach, placing the medal in the hand of his friend, exchanging a few words, coming to attention for a casual raised salute.
Suddenly, his eyes meet eyes as light and as crystal blue as his own. The man before him wore the wartime attire of a field gray tunic over black trousers with a shirt and tie, no belt or hat. The only decoration on the gray tunic was the Iron Cross First Class medal on the breast pocket.
The moment was magical, staring into each other's eyes without exchanging words. Words would not be necessary; he had met his kindred spirit, a man who would forever change his destiny. The light blue eyes shifted from his and noticed the blue-black stripe of the Streifendienst3.
He smiled slightly and said under his breath. "Guten.4"
"Ist Leo es?5"
Still at attention he answered crisply. "Ja, mein Fuhrer!6"
"Leo der lowe, ein lowe fur der Vaterland."7 The light-blue eyes glanced down the row of young men.
"Jawohl, mein Fuhrer!"8 he replied confidently.
"Jawohl, Jawohl!"9The Fuhrer replied as he held out his hand, the collector's hand quickly moved out to take the medal the Fuhrer had pressed into his. Swiftly, the Fuhrer stepped back and with his hand pointing upward, gave a crisp salute. As a reflex, he quickly followed suit, their eyes again locked in a moment of communion.
The collector sighed deeply in his peaceful sleep in the desert, the warmth of the stone pulsing through his tired body.
"Wo bist du, mein pimpfs?"10 he murmured again, his voice gaining a new strength. His blue eyes opened, searching the darkness.
"Wo bist du?" Wo sind die 12,000."11
The collector looked to the star laden sky, again beseeching. "Wo bist du? Wo?"12
The stone beneath his cheek grew abnormally cold. Quickly, he recoiled and stood, weaving back and forth. A breeze blew through the courtyard, spinning grains of sand through the air. The candle fell into the sand. The light disappeared, sending the collector into darkness. Stumbling backwards, he felt his way through the obelisks, the gateway. By starlight, he wandered toward the jeep and trailer. Leaning against the side of his jeep, he steadied himself against the gusts of wind that whirled around him.
"Wo bist du?" he called louder, feeling the coolness of the breeze against his face. The wind circled the jeep and disappeared as quickly as it came. The collector stared forlornly at the horizon. Suddenly, on the horizon, a star brightened. Rubbing his eyes and face, thinking his eyes were fooling him, he stared at the horizon again, watching a distant star again brightened on the horizon.
"Mein pimpfs!" He yelled gleefully, jumped into the jeep and brought the engine to life.
Time flowed easily as the collector joyfully sang the "Horst Wessel Song", while sending the jeep careening up and downs dunes cheerfully following the star that pulsed on the horizon.
Suddenly, the star disappeared from view. The collector brought the jeep and trailer to an abrupt halt, sending a spray of sand over him. The star had disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Extinguishing the headlights, he intently stared ahead.
Had he imagined the flickering light, was it a light from a distant oil well? His fingers nervously tapped the steering wheel, contemplating his plight.
"Wo bist du?" He whispered.
Sand blew into his face and instinctively he pulled the hood of the burnoose over his face for protection. The wind continued, blowing harder and harder. He had heard of sandstorms kicking up suddenly. How could he have been fooled by the clear night sky?
The collector climbed from his jeep and moved to the leeward side of the trailer for protection from the sand when he tripped and fell into a depression, jamming into something immovable at the bottom of the pit. Pain shot through his fingertips as the wind blew fitfully over him.
He cursed under his breath at his sudden turn of misfortune, the star disappearing, the sandstorm and now his aching fingers. Slowly, the pain subsided from his fingers in the cool sand at the bottom of the depression. The wind calmed and dropped sand on his prone body like rain.
The collector pulled a small pin light from beneath his cloak and projected the narrow shaft of light to investigate the smooth object. With great care, he scooped the sand from around the tan disk, revealing a three-dimensional dome. Standing on his knees, his heart pounding with excitement, he placed the pin light between his teeth and used both hands to excavate the area. His fast and labored breathing filled the silence of the desert as his fingers feverishly worked around the dome and suddenly stopped.
Beneath the small circle of light two black circles stared up at him…. eye sockets. The collector's eyes widened in awe as his fingers became entangled in a strand of auburn hair.
~~~tbc~~~
1."Pimpf" members of the Hitler Youth, meaning "Little Fellows".
2. Where are you?
3. "Streifendienst" elite group that would later become part of the
secret police.
4. Good
5. Leo is it?
6. Yes, my leader.
7. Leo the lion, a lion for the Fatherland.
8. Yes sir, my leader!
9. Yes, Yes!
10. Where are you, my little fellows?
11. Where are you? Where are the 12,000?
12. Where are you? Where?
HJ or Hitlerjungend for 14-18 yr. Olds.