Heidelberg, Germany
March 29th, 1945
Indiana Jones had to find the right train. There were dozens of them haphazardly arranged on tracks that fanned into the depot. One of them was carrying a cargo of priceless paintings that would soon be swept out of Germany. He was working with Aaron Roark of the Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives program, and the two were getting desperate.
Nearly a week ago Roark had managed to wrangle intelligence from a local citizen, one of the few who shared no love for the Nazis and blamed them more than even the Allies for the hell brought down on their country. The helpful German claimed that a cache of stolen art was on its way out of Heidelberg in a last-ditch effort to abscond with what a high ranking official clearly believed was rightfully his according to his Aryan birthright. Boxes of art—paintings, statues—were stashed on a train car that would make its way out of the country and perhaps out of time and memory as well.
Roark knew their time was limited. The war was over, even if Germany hadn't yet surrendered, which meant that every Nazi with a rank on their shoulder were trying to figure out their endgame, either fleeing the country or strategizing how useful they might be to the new occupiers. Some had even decided to exit this plane of existence while staring down the barrel of a gun.
By the time Roark learned that a train was leaving Heidelberg with boxes of art, some of the most prized cultural heritage of Europe, he knew something had to be done. The German army was abandoning Heidelberg, and the Allies would soon march into the city, a predetermined and arranged bloodless exchange of territory. This was a relief to most. No one wanted to die for a war that was for all intents and purposes over, even if they believed in the cause.
The army had their plans to move in aggressively. They didn't want to be caught off guard just in case the Nazis changed their minds or if some true believers stayed behind to take potshots from church steeples. No, they were not going to move up the invasion on the count of a train car full of art, no matter how precious.
"I like perusing a museum as much as the next culturally educated American, Roark," the General told him. "Hell, when I'm back home in New York I'll catch myself a glimpse of Van Ghogh's Wheat Field. But I can't give up my men's lives for paintings, no matter how important. You understand."
And he did understand. But Roark had dedicated his life to the study of art, something his immigrant parents never really understood but let him dabble in nevertheless. He couldn't stand by, but he couldn't run into the city alone when, for all he knew, the German Army still controlled every building and street. There was one last option, a member of the OSS embedded with the Army. He didn't know him well, and what he knew were the kinds of rumors that were passed around from private to colonel only increasing in size. They claimed he had fought in World War I at Verdun, rode with Pancho Villa, and went hunting with Teddy Roosevelt as a boy. If that wasn't enough, some of the rumors beggared belief. He was said to have encountered Dracula himself and discovered an immortal knight of the crusades living in a desert cave.
Roark found Indiana Jones in his tent with his face lathered in shaving cream. "What can I do for you?" he asked as he carefully drew his straight razor down his face.
Roark explained his problem and the urgency of the situation. He needed someone at his side to track down the art cache and stop it from escaping Germany. "By the time our army arrives tomorrow, it will already be too late."
"You know, this is the first chance I've gotten for a shave in weeks. I didn't even have shaving cream until a little old lady handed it to me as a 'gift.' I'm pretty sure she thought if she handed out goods to the Americans, then we wouldn't loot her house. I tried to give it back, but she insisted."
"I'm sorry to interrupt you like this," Roark continued, "but this art is of the upmost importance. These monsters have boxed up and stolen Europe's heritage. They need to know that they can't take whatever they want."
Indy splashed water on his face, clearing off the foamy lather and leaving the still young beard. "Then what are we waiting for. We've got treasure to hunt."
By the time they reached Heidelberg, the German army had all but abandoned it, but for safety they held tight to the buildings and took back alleys rather than main streets. There were still stragglers milling about, soldiers likely looting the homes of those who fled the city. The depot was still packed with trains. There were no visible soldiers remaining, but the depot was so crowded, they couldn't be sure if there weren't a handful of stragglers like those they witnessed in the town. Intelligence suggested that the officer smuggling the paintings was acting on his own behalf without orders from above. He would have no authority to take a train, and would likely have to pick off one that was left behind after the army fled the city. They may have made it in time.
But first, they had to find the damn train.
The tracks spread out like a peacock tail. The remaining trains created a maze. Many of the engines seemed damaged or neglected, but in their hurry to flee, the Germans had left behind plenty of usable engines. Indy and Roark split up, methodically checking each boxcar, one train at a time starting at the opposite ends of the depot. Most of the boxcars were empty, but when they discovered wooden containers, they had to spend precious time peeling them open with crowbars.
After having searched one chain of boxcars each, they were alerted to the sound of the metallic clank of a train awakening. Quickly, the two converged on the train as it pulled away. If the cache were still here, it would most likely be on the fleeing train.
Indy and Roark gained on the slowly accelerating engine.
"I'll get on first, and then I'll pull you up," Indy yelled to Roark.
Just as his hand reached to the back railing, the door of the caboose burst open and a German soldier with an MG-42 emerged. Indy jumped on Roark as a spray of bullets arched over their heads.
"We're going to lose the train, Indy!" Roark yelled, unhelpfully.
"Not without a chase," Indy replied. He was setting an abandoned Kettenkrad upright. "Help me with this!"
Roark grabbed a metal pole to serve as a lever. The Kettenkrad was a centaur—the unnatural union between a motorcycle and a tank. Suitable for two riders, it had treads like a tank in the rear and a single wheel and handlebar in the front.
"Have you ever driven one of these before?" Roark asked.
"I've ridden a motorcycle and a tank, so I figure it can't be that hard."
"You've driven a tank before?"
"I've ridden one. I wasn't driving. I was on the outside"
After a couple of attempts, the engine turned over, and the two were off. Indy couldn't approach the train from the rear, otherwise he would offer the soldier another clear shot. Instead, he kept his distance from the tracks, the treads of the Kettenkrad allowing him to traverse unsteady terrain.
The Kettenkrad tossed topsoil in its wake as its treads cut lines in the ground. Indy cut across to the train, a couple of boxcars up from the caboose to avoid the soldier stationed at the train's rearguard.
"We're going to have to do this in the opposite order," Indy shouted to Roark. "You get on first and then pull me up."
Roark nodded in acknowledgement, but his face still had a look of uncertainty. Indy inched the Kettenkrad close to the boxcar while Roark reached out to grab the car handle. Once the train tracks straightened out, the engine would be able to reach full speed, making it impossible for the Kettenkrad to keep up.
On his third attempt, Roark managed to get a grip on the car handle and yank himself onto the train. Roark unlatched the side door and entered the boxcar.
Looking ahead, Indy discovered that he had a tighter time frame that he thought. Before the rails would straighten, they would pass over a bridge. He had moments to steady the Kettenkrad and make it onto the train before plunging into the Neckar River.
As he braced himself to jump and latch onto Roark's hand, he lost control of the Kettenkrad. Durin several aborted attempts, the vehicle swung wildly away from the train. Finally, with the Neckar River imminent, Indy jumped. His hand slipped out of Roark's, and half his body lay on the floor the box car. Below, the Kettenkrad arced its way into the river, disrupting the waters with a splash.
After standing firmly on his feet, Indy told Roark the rest of the plan. "We've got to get to that engine and shut this train down. And that means, getting up top."
Indy and Roark started jumping boxcars but didn't make it far before they were forced to lie flat to avoid incoming fire. A soldier near the front had spotted them. He was probably alerted to their presence because of the Kettenkrad's dive into the Neckar. Indy and Roark crawled into the crevasse between boxcars. Between the two of them, they only possessed a handgun a piece. Indy returned fire, but he wasn't a match against the rapid fire of the machine gun. And the gunshots had alerted the soldier at the end of the train. They were now pinned down by fire from both ends.
The soldier towards the rear started traversing the top of the boxcars. He would lie down and return fire whenever Indy tried to hit him, but the movement of the train made aiming with a single pistol uncertain. The flood of machine gun bullets had the clear advantage.
"When I tell you, I want you to point at the soldier making his way up the train from the back. Fire your gun until you're out of ammunition. Reload and keep on firring. I want to hear this gun click four or five times. Got it?" Roark shook his head affirmative. "All right. Go!" Indy said pointing to the top of the boxcar.
As Roark kept the soldier behind them pinned down, Indy waited a moment and then started firing at the soldier towards the front of the train. He stopped firing just as Roark ran out of ammunition but kept his head up just enough to present a reasonable target. At nearly the same time, the rearguard soldier got up and started charging their position. As the frontward soldier sent a hail of bullets, the soldier to the rear was running at full speed. He caught a bullet and fell off the train with a disturbing yalp.
"The problem with a pincer move is that you're vulnerable to friendly fire."
No longer pinned down by the soldier to their rear, Indy and Roark traded off providing suppressing fire until they reached the final boxcar before the train engine. The German soldier lay in waiting on the opposite side. Indy counted their ammunition. They were low.
"I'm going to need you to hold his attention," Indy told Roark. "We don't have many bullets. One clip from your gun and five more bullets from my revolver. Fire twice and then give him time to return five. Draw it out. I need time to get to the other side."
Roark nodded to indicate he understood. He didn't look as if he could muster up a verbal acknowledgement.
As Indy climbed across the side of the boxcar, he could hear the rhythm of gunfire—two shots from Roark followed by a spread of bullets from the soldier.
Roark managed to keep the German distracted enough for Indy to sneak up on him. In the middle of reloading his clip, the soldier looked up in shock to find Indy right beside him. Indy swiftly punched him in the face. The two exchanged fists while balancing between the boxcar and engine.
To gain the higher ground, the soldier clambered to the top of the train, kicking Indy to prevent him from following. With his enemy incapacitated, the soldier tried to again reload his machine gun, but before he could insert the clip, Roark came upon him, running from the end of the car, punching wildly.
The soldier now faced two enemies. He turned toward who he saw as the less tempered enemy, railing at Roark and forcing him to the other edge of the boxcar. Before Indy could stop him, he shoved Roark off the train. With a strong uppercut, Indy knocked the soldier down. He peered between the cars relieved to discover Roark had landed on the couplers.
Before he could turn back to the fight, the soldier pushed Indy, sending him sailing to the other boxcar. As the two stared each other down, they started drifting away. Roark had uncoupled the cars.
But the soldier wasn't going to let them slip away. He had reloaded his machine gun and was aiming right at Indy. Before he could pull the trigger, a bullet pierced his neck. Roark still had one more bullet. The soldier still clung to his neck as he flopped off the side of the train.
They watched as the train and one lonely boxcar disappeared from view. The Allied Army would be there soon, and they would know what had been recovered and perhaps what had been lost.
The annexation of Heidelberg went more smoothly than Indy and Roark's attempt to stop the last train out of the city. It appeared that no Germans wanted to be the last to die for a war they already lost.
Roark commandeered a handful of soldiers to open crates and inventory all items. He collated everything they found with itemized Nazi documents that listed in detail all "annexed" artwork. Roark found that the one good thing about Germans was their almost instinctive desire to document everything, even their crimes.
"So did you find what you thought you were going to find?" Indy asked. He took a break from his duties as a member of the OSS to check on Roark.
"Mostly. Whoever was in charge of this train was trying to get this artwork out of Heidelberg and most likely out of Germany. But it wasn't just stolen artwork. They had packed away silverware, plates, and even stacks of money."
"What do you think? Whoever put this little collection together is trying to flee with a nest egg?"
"Almost certainly. I just wish we could have snagged that last boxcar. There are still items missing from the inventory."
"If it wasn't for you, kid, they would have gotten away scott free. You did good."
"I'll inform some of the other MFAA members. Maybe they can catch this thing before it leaves the continent."
"We can only hope." Indy saw something in Roark's eyes. He was much younger than most Monuments Men who were often middle aged. Some were more used to the inside of a museum than the battlefields of Europe, but there were others who, like Indy, had experience in WWI before signing up to enter another war to end all wars. At that moment, he saw how youthful Roark's face really was, despite the fact that the stress and terror of war had spent the last year digging lines into it. "What's eating you?"
Roark hesitated, and then said, "I've been in the middle of this war for over a year, but that was the first time I've ever actually shot anyone."
"If you didn't, I wouldn't be standing here having this conversations. So, from the bottom of my heart, thanks."
"Of course."
"It's not an easy thing. There are days where all I can think about is getting back to my office or to an archeological dig. Hell, I would even take my classroom. But history has called on us. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that when history turns her face to you, then you answer."
"I guess that's what this is all about: history. As a kid looking at paintings in MFA, I felt like I was looking into the past. And when I grew up, I knew that it's the closest we can get to seeing the world through the eyes of our forebears."
"You're a man after my heart, Roark. Let me tell you this: When things settle down in Heidelberg, let's you and me grab a drink."
"It's a deal," Roark said with a shake.
But the meeting never took place. Indy and Roark were whisked away to further duties. The war wasn't over quite yet.