Wayne materialized in the time machine in Dr. Hoffmann’s laboratory. Dr. Hoffmann was nowhere in sight. He got out of the contraption, stroked his ruffled hair, and exhaled deeply. He was relieved to be back home, and not a minute too soon.
“I’ve been planning this for years. Nothing can go wrong,” Wayne said imitating Dr. Hoffmann. “Yeah, right.”
The door to the lab was opened. In walked Dr. Lisa Hoffmann. Wayne noticied something was odd immediately.
Dr. Hoffmann’s glasses were gone. Her hair had a sharp blond tint to it compared to the brown it had always been previously and was cut quite short, much like a military haircut. She was also less frail than she had looked when Wayne had last seen her. Dr. Hoffmann was more muscular and athletic.
Wayne’s anger slipped away as he relaxed. He had planned on really letting Dr. Hoffmann know how angry he was with her for letting him stay in Nazi Germany for so long and for not telling him the real reason why she had sent him back, but he couldn’t muster the energy.
“Boy, am I glad to finally see you!” Wayne blurted out. “You kept me there almost long enough to get me killed. But I’m back, damn it! And I ain’t never leaving again.”
“Wie ist Ihr Name?” Dr. Hoffmann said with a German accent.
“I did it, Doc. I did it! Just like you planned it.”
“Wie ist Ihr Name?” Dr. Hoffmann said with annoyance.
“What did you say?” Wayne asked.
“Who are you?” Dr. Hoffmann wanted to know.
“Hey, how long was I gone? Why didn’t you bring me back the same night I left? Did you cut your hair? I think I liked it better longer. Anyway, I—”
Dr. Hoffmann stood firm. “You have three seconds to tell me who you are and what you are doing in my lab.”
“Let me tell you, Dr. Hoffmann, you have a weird sense of humor. It’s me, Wayne Goldberg, who do you think?” Dr. Hoffmann did not look amused at all.
“I can’t believe I actually did it,” Wayne continued. “I slipped the stuff into the drink, then he croaked, and then, these fuckin’ Nazi soldiers…”
Dr. Hoffmann walked out of the lab, closing and locking the door behind her.
Wayne was bewildered. “Doc, where are you going?” he yelled. He attempted to open the door, but couldn’t. Wayne looked at the clock on the wall. It read 9:35. Wayne sat down and tried to figure out what Dr. Hoffmann was up to. Is this how he would be thanked for risking his life for her?
Ten minutes later, Wayne was pacing back and forth. “I don’t know,” he thought out loud, “maybe she soaked up too much radiation and that made her go bonkers.” Wayne heard the sound of the lab door being unlocked. “It’s about time.” The door swung open.
“Did you finally come to your sen—”
Wayne’s jaw dropped ajar as two men entered the laboratory gripping machine guns and pointed the weapons directly at him. More startling to Wayne was the fact that the men were dressed exactly like the Nazis he had eluded previously that night, right down to their swastika armbands. Dr. Lisa Hoffmann was present with these men.
“A joke is a joke, Doctor,” Wayne said. “What’s going on?”
The two men dressed as Nazis took hold of Wayne, who resisted. One of the men he resisted struck Wayne in the face, connecting hard, causing his nose to bleed.
“You fuckin’ asshole!” Wayne cried out.
One of the men handcuffed Wayne’s hands behind his back, while the other blindfolded him.
Wayne was shocked at what was happening. “What is this? You hate Nazis,” he managed to scream out. “Remember the letter your father wrote you before the Nazis murdered him and your mother—”
Wayne was gagged with a cloth, and dragged out of the lab room by the two men. As Dr. Hoffmann watched this intruder being “escorted” out, worry lines creased her forehead.
The inside of Gestapo headquarters in New Berlin City looked much like a typical police station would, with its generic bland desks in neat rows. A Gestapo man sat at each desk, some talking on the telephone and others doing paperwork.
Seated on a chair, in front of one of the desks, a young lady wept. On the desk sat a loaf of bread.
“Please forgive me, but I was starving.” the young lady said with tears streaming down her cheeks. “I have not eaten in a week.”
A Gestapo man sat stoically behind the desk. “The Party makes sure everybody gets enough to eat. Stealing is a severe criminal act.”
“Yes, but I spent my food allowance on my child. He has a high fever and needed additional medicine. The doctor—”
The Gestapo man was not impressed. “Every German citizen is aware of the penalty for theft. The Reich cannot have a society of animals running around stealing. You shall receive the proper punishment,” he said emotionless.
The Gestapo man stood up. He surveyed the young lady’s right hand. It was days like this that he realized just how much he loved his occupation and how he would not change it for anything in the world.
“No! No! Please!” the young lady frantically cried.
Wayne was brought into the building and roughly escorted between the rows of desks towards the back of the room.
Wayne sensed that something had gone terribly wrong. Wayne thought that somehow he must have changed the course of history.
The Gestapo Nazis who had brought him in threw Wayne onto a small, wooden chair.
SS Captain Von Helldorf strode over. The Gestapo man saluted him.
Wayne’s blindfold was removed, as was the gag from his mouth. His hands, however, were left handcuffed. The handcuffs had been locked tightly around his wrists, and Wayne wished that they had been removed before the blindfold or gag.
“Wie ist Ihr Name, mein Freund?” Von Helldorf asked.
Wayne remained silent. Von Helldorf saw fit to slap him hard.
“Wie ist Ihr Name?” Von Helldorf asked him again.
“Why don’t you speak English?” Wayne said. “This is America, for God’s sake.”
“So, my friend, you prefer to speak English. How come that does not surprise me?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me, dickface,” Wayne said bravely.
Von Helldorf smirked, “Ah, I can see that interrogating you shall be a lot of fun. I have not had a fun interrogation in, oh… a week. It seems that my prisoners usually die just as the fun is about to begin.” The SS Captain paused, then asked, “One last time: who are you?”
Wayne remained quiet.
“You shall be my entertainment for the night.” He turned to his men, “Bring him into the main room.”
The Gestapo men led Wayne up a steep flight of stairs and down a long hallway. Criminals and deviators often received their “just” punishment from the Gestapo in one of the various rooms on this floor of horrors.
Wayne was led past the glass door to one of these rooms. In the room, the unfortunate young lady who had been caught stealing the loaf of bread was present with a few Gestapo men. The buzzing of a chainsaw rang out. Wayne heard the young lady’s screams pierce the air as blood squirted in all directions in the room.
Wayne was shoved into an interrogation room at the very end of the hall.
This special room contained many different torture devices, including some that looked like they came right out of a medieval castle, such as the iron maiden, where a prisoner could be locked in a confining metal device as if a mummy.
Wayne was stripped down to his underwear and then securely vertically tied spread eagle to a lashing rack.
“You do not want to talk; let the fun begin,” SS Captain Von Helldorf said.
Wayne looked around the room in disbelief. He felt as if he had walked onto the set of a Bela Lugosi movie. He realized that the men whom had brought him to this dungeon fully intended to make use of the available torture machines and weapons. Wayne decided he better talk. He didn’t have a high tolerance for pain. He remembered when he broke his arm in junior high and winced, he had thought he was going to die.
“Look, you want the truth, you’ve got it,” Wayne said. “My name is Wayne Goldberg, and I’m a college student. One of my professors invented a time machine. She sent me back in time to kill Adolf Hitler, and then I was brought back to 1995. I don’t know why you’re doing this to me. That’s the honest-to-God truth, I swear it.”
Von Helldorf laughed. “Time machine? As in a device that would enable someone to travel between time periods?”
“Yes,” Wayne nervously responded. “Look, I know it’s crazy, but it’s the truth.”
“Do not waste my valuable time. I will give you points for originality, young man, but none for honesty.”
One of the Gestapo men held a thick leather bullwhip in his hand.
Captain Von Helldorf ordered him, “One lash.”
The Gestapo was only too happy to listen. Wayne received one lashing on his bare back and he groaned loudly.
“You can stop this anytime,” Von Helldorf said.
“I told you the truth. I swear it!”
“Three lashes.” The whip stopped and Wayne felt welts rising on his back as he gasped for air.
“You must enjoy the pain, my friend,” Von Helldorf said. “That is fine with me. I enjoy giving it.” He turned to his trusty man with the bullwhip and said, “Twenty lashes.”
Wayne’s groans turned to screams. Each crack of the leather whip hurt more than the previous one. The pain was intense - worse than anything Wayne had ever experienced in his life. About the time of lash number twelve, Wayne felt his consciousness slipping away.
SS Captain Von Helldorf commanded one of the Gestapo men, “Revive him.”
The Gestapo man picked up a large bucket of ice-cold water and splashed the it onto Wayne’s face. Wayne slowly woke up.
“Are you ready to talk, or shall we continue on?” Von Helldorf asked of Wayne.
In pain and shock, Wayne was ready to tell Von Helldorf anything that he wanted to know. He mumbled, “I’ll talk.”
The Gestapo men untied Wayne from the lashing rack, then seated and strapped him onto a large, uncomfortable wooden chair.
“What is your name?” Von Helldorf demanded.
“Wayne Goldberg.”
“Where have you come from? What underground resistance are you with? Tell me.”
Wayne, obviously, had no idea what the sadistic SS Captain was inquiring about. Wayne had already attempted to tell Von Helldorf the truth, but he didn’t buy it. Wayne knew he had to say something. Anything. He was hurting. “It’s underground in… in…the Bronx.”
“Where is the Bronx?”
“North of the City, near Yonkers.”
“Bronx?” The SS Captain questioned. “Was that not the name of an American city prior to the war?” he asked the Gestapo.
“I believe so, sir. If it was the city that I think it was, it would now be located in Quadrant F-42.”
“You are lying. I do not like liars,” Von Helldorf said aggravated. He slapped Wayne hard across the face. “TALK.”
“I told you the truth. I’m a college student at New York University. My professor there invented a time machine, sent me back in time to 1933 to kill Hitler, I did. And then I came back to this damn nightmare. That’s the whole truth and nothing but the fucking truth,” he raved.
“You refer to places that have not existed for over thirty years. Why? Who has taught you these things?”
Wayne didn’t answer the SS Captain; he just stared blankly.
Von Helldorf was becoming impatient. “The fun has begun to wear thin. Bring over the electrodes.”
A cart with a shock treatment device was brought over. The Gestapo cranked it up and attached the two electrodes to Wayne’s testicles, one electrode per ball.
“Let me tell you something, my naïve prisoner. Your kind, no matter what it is,” Von Helldorf worked himself up into a sweat, “Jew, Slavic, Pole, homosexual or any other of the inferior slave peoples that infect the Reich, will be crushed and destroyed. That is the Gestapo’s number one priority.” Furiously he said, “Tell me the truth.”
“I already did,” Wayne frantically said.
“Hochspannung.” Von Helldorf commanded.
The Gestapo manning the machine turned a dial a small amount to the right.
Wayne’s body became rigid and his muscles tense as electricity shot through his groin. He bit his lip hard, trying not to scream.
“Hohes tier!” Von Helldorf commanded.
The man turned the dial all the way to the right, as far as it would go. All of the three Gestapo men present clearly were amused and received a perverted satisfaction from the proceedings. These mindless robots had no idea of the pain actually being inflicted on their prisoner.
Wayne could not hold it any longer. He shrieked and it echoed off the walls.
Later that evening, the Gestapo men whom had been working downstairs would offer their congratulations for a job well done to their colleague and mentor, SS Captain Von Helldorf. After all, it wasn’t every interrogation when they were able to hear the victim’s screams through the ceiling above their heads.
The jail cellblock contained numerous small cells, however, the cells lacked the usual iron gates that kept a prisoner contained. Instead, the prisoners were confined by lines of red laser beams that ran from the ceiling down to the floor in front of each diminutive cell. If a prisoner tried to escape, that prisoner would be fried to a crisp by the intense heat generated by the laser beam. The Gestapo men always got a kick out of seeing a prisoner, who could not take being locked up anymore or any of the many forms of torture that would be perpetrated on him, commit suicide by throwing himself, or as the case sometimes was, herself, into the scorching red hot center of the laser beam. The small jail cells were devoid of any furnishings, windows, or even a simple piece of plumbing for a basic human need — a toilet.
The cellblock housed six prisoners, four men and two women. These once proud citizens were filthy and had been reduced, by repeated punishments back to a childlike state of mind. Why were some of the prisoners incarcerated? One poor man, a dentist, had an alcohol problem. Another prisoner was accused of embezzlement from his company. This was typical of the prison system in the Reich.
A seventh prisoner was added to the cellblock that night. The thick, steel entrance door was opened and Wayne was brought in by the Gestapo who had interrogated him. Captain Von Helldorf followed them in. Wayne, wearing only his underwear, was pushed into a vacant cell.
“You are to stand at attention with your eyes looking straight ahead, arms at your side,” Von Helldorf instructed the prisoner. “If you are found sitting, sleeping, or in any other position than what I just described, you will be shot like a dog. Let me assure you, that if you are foolish enough to try to leave, you will be cooked alive.”
The Captain took a remote control device out of his coat pocket. He aimed the remote control towards a sensor at the top of the jail cell and pressed a button on it. Lines of red laser beams appeared, running from ceiling to floor in front of the cell.
Wayne assumed the position of standing at attention.
Von Helldorf and his men left the cellblock, locking the door behind them.
To say that Wayne was a little in pain then would have been like saying the Grand Canyon was nothing more than a little hold in the ground. Wayne mustered the tiny amount of strength he had remaining to keep standing, a torture in its own way. He ached everywhere and wavered where he stood.
Later that evening, around midnight, SS Captain Von Helldorf was busy working in his office. His office was by no means extravagant, but was beautifully furnished with velvet furniture and ivory carved figures. Ivory, imported from Africa, was the latest craze among the SS elite.
Von Helldorf was sticking colored pins into a big wall map. The map was a representation of what was once called Manhattan Island, but the letters on the map indicated the area was NEW BERLIN CITY. There was a knock at the door.
“Who is it?” Von Helldorf asked, slightly louder than in his normal talking voice. He waited for an answer, but did not hear one through the closed door of his office. The Captain left the map, went to the door, and opened it. Dr. Lisa Hoffmann was there to see him. “Yes?”
“I am here for the release of a prisoner,” Dr. Hoffmann stated.
“Who are you?”
“Doctor Lisa Hoffmann: identity number D3847835. I am a tenured professor at New Berlin University.” She showed a work identity card, required of all employees in the Reich, to Von Helldorf.
“Come in,” the Captain said.
Dr. Hoffmann walked into the SS Captain’s office. She had never seen so much beautiful ivory in one place. Personally, she was appalled that the great African elephants were coming dangerously close to extinction because of certain bureaucrats’ insatiable appetites for the ivory, but that was not a subject she dare bring up.
“Please, sit down,” Von Helldorf offered.
Dr. Hoffmann sat down in a comfortable chair across from the Captain’s moderately sized teak desk.
“This is strange. Are you not the same Dr. Lisa Hoffmann mentioned in my report who had turned in the prisoner in the first place?” Von Helldorf questioned. “That is, if we are speaking about the same prisoner who had been picked up at NBU.”
“Yes, sir. I am the one who called the authorities and with good reason.”
“What authorization do you have for your request?”
Dr. Hoffmann handed some official looking papers to the Captain.
Von Helldorf scrutinized the papers. “This is very odd,” he said. “You are telling me that the mentioned prisoner here is part of an experiment?”
“Correct. A very important research study in psychological stress that could have far reaching implications for the Reich.”
Captain Von Helldorf did not understand. “How can this be, that a subject would put himself in such a dangerous situation?”
Dr. Hoffmann replied, “An advanced form of hypnosis was used.” She explained, “After the subject had volunteered for the project, all of the subject’s memories had to be temporarily erased and a new identity installed, so to speak, in its place. In order for me to gauge psychological stress accurately, the subject had to actually believe that what was happening was a real situation.” Dr. Hoffmann had rehearsed her lines well.
“Why was I not informed?” Captain Von Helldorf wanted to know.
Dr. Hoffmann had a ready-made response. “So you would not show any leniency on the subject.”
“This was approved by the Reich Institute for Scientific Experiments as is required?”
“Yes, sir.”
Captain Von Helldorf glanced down again at the papers that the professor had given him. Everything appeared to be in order, right down to the official seals. He picked up his phone receiver to notify the cellblock guards of a prisoner’s release.
Dr. Hoffmann waited in the Gestapo headquarters’ main area, near the entrance to the building. Wayne, who still was in pain, but at least had been permitted to put his clothes back on, was brought up to Dr. Hoffmann by a Gestapo man.
“Thank you,” Dr. Hoffmann said.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you,” Wayne said to Dr. Hoffmann.
“Keep your mouth shut,” she whispered back to him.
As Dr. Hoffmann and Wayne walked out of the Gestapo headquarters and into the dark night, SS Captain Von Helldorf watched the two of them with a trace of suspicion in his eye.
Without saying a word, Dr. Hoffmann led Wayne to her car, an aged, yellow Volkswagen Beetle. Dr. Hoffmann opened the door on the driver’s side and got in the car. Wayne stood there, not sure what he was supposed to do. Did this woman he thought he knew want him to get in the vehicle with her? Could he even trust her after the stunt she had pulled earlier with calling those goons on him? Wayne, wanting some answers, got into the car.
Dr. Hoffmann turned the ignition key, shifted the car into gear, and started driving. After she had driven half a mile from Gestapo headquarters, Dr. Hoffmann, without taking her eyes off the road, asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve just been put through a meat grinder, thanks to you,” Wayne said pissed off. “Why did you call those schmucks on me? What the hell is going on here, Doctor Hoffmann?”
“You indicated earlier to me that your name was a Wayne Goldberg, I recall.”
“It still is,” Wayne said. He was stunned. Could Dr. Hoffmann really not have known who he was now?
As they drove, Wayne viewed the landscape of the city streets. It did not seem like the old city of Manhattan that he had been so familiar with. Buildings appeared to have a strange hybrid of a neoclassical and modern architectural design, with a distinct European flavor. He did not recognize any of them. The biggest difference, Wayne noticed, was the fact that never before had he seen the city so quiet. It had never been so dead. It now had a barrenness that was unnatural. This wasn’t the same city that Wayne knew so well and it hadn’t been for over forty years.
“You will need a place to stay tonight,” Dr. Hoffmann said. “Since I am single, I have been assigned to live with a family. The house has an extra room that you can sleep in. I sometimes bring students over to the house to work on projects with me late into the night, so your being there should not arouse any suspicions.”
“You didn’t answer my question, what is going on here?” Wayne asked again. “You told me that nothing could go wrong. I mean, at first I thought all this was a joke — you pretending not to know me, your changed appearance, those Nazis arresting me. But then me getting whipped and tortured — nobody would take a prank that far. Explain to me what got so fucked up.”
Dr. Hoffmann rolled down her window to let fresh air in. A pleasant breeze swept through the small automobile. “I do not know who you are. I risked my life to get you released for one reason.”
“How nice of you,” Wayne sarcastically said. “And what do I owe this great honor to?”
“My curiosity was aroused when you mentioned the time machine and the letter my father had written me prior to my being sent to what was then the United States of America,” Dr. Hoffmann stated. “I have never mentioned nor discussed those two things to anybody. Ever. How did you have knowledge of the time machine and the letter?”
“You really don’t recognize me?”
“No.”
“Oh, boy,” Wayne sighed.
“Wayne, tell me where you’re from. Please explain to me how you know who I am. Please explain how you are acquainted with the private things in my life,” Dr. Hoffmann begged more than asked.
“Where do I even start,” Wayne said. “Damn, my back is killing me.” Wayne tried to reposition his body in the small bug, but there was barely enough room to move. Wayne thought about the insanity of his situation and exhaled deeply. “Well, here goes,” he began, “You were teaching my advanced physics class at New York University when one day at the end of class you asked me…”
Wayne related to Dr. Hoffmann about how she had asked him to come to her laboratory on that day, about how she had put her time machine to use, about the Hindenburg incident, about what she had shared with him about her parent’s fate in Germany, and, of course, about how she had sent him back in time to kill Adolf Hitler to make the world a better place.
The one incident Wayne did not tell her of was the incident with her parents, Josef and Greta, in 1933 Nazi Germany. He was not sure how Dr. Hoffmann would have taken that news. After he finished talking, Dr. Hoffmann rebounded with a multitude of questions. She wanted to know about the world Wayne came from. What it was like to live in a democratic society. She was very interested in the politics of the major countries of the world and had been astonished when Wayne told her that in his world men had already walked on the moon. No programs existed or had ever existed in the Reich for such a superb accomplishment. With no history of a cold war between the German Unified Territories and any of the few independent countries in the world, the Reich had never deemed it essential to develop a space program. Germans did not have to travel to the moon to know they were a superior people.
“Fascinating,” was Dr. Hoffmann’s response to what Wayne had told her.
They approached the George Washington Bridge. It was a vaguely familiar sight; he used to drive over it to go from Manhattan to New Jersey when he and his friends would go to canoe down the Delaware River.
The Volkswagen pulled over to the side of the road and stopped in front of a small building that had a sign out front that read: INSPECTION.
“Why are we stopping?” Wayne asked.
“Inspection,” Dr. Hoffmann said. “Keep quiet. I have papers for you.”
An inspector — a youthful, Nordic appearing woman — sauntered up to the Beetle. “Work pass card.” she requested from Dr. Hoffmann, as she had a hundred times a day from other people as well.
“Here is my card,” Dr. Hoffmann said as she removed her pass card from her coat pocket and handed it to the inspector.
The inspector noted Wayne. “Pass card or papers for the passenger,” she requested of the professor.
Dr. Hoffmann removed official sealed papers from her breast pocket and gave them to the Reich Ministry of Road Travel employee. Dr. Hoffmann had forged the required travel papers on short notice and was proud of how authentic she had made them appear. She didn’t foresee any problems at the inspection site.
The inspector surveyed Dr. Hoffmann’s pass card and Wayne’s travel papers and then instructed Dr. Hoffmann, “Pop the trunk.”
The inspector who worked the shift when Dr. Hoffmann usually drove by, at an earlier time of day, would routinely wave Dr. Hoffmann through the inspection site without making her stop. She guessed, after he had been stopping her and checking her pass card for ten years, that the inspector finally trusted she was indeed authorized to travel out of the city.
Dr. Hoffmann popped the trunk of her rear-engine Volkswagen.
The female inspector took a quick view of the inside of the empty cavity, and then slammed the trunk shut. She walked around to Dr. Hoffmann’s side of the car and informed her, “Everything is in order. You may proceed.” She handed the professor’s pass card and Wayne’s travel papers back to Dr. Hoffmann.
Dr. Hoffmann thanked the inspector, shifted the car into gear, and stepped on the gas. As the car traveled onto the massive bridge, Wayne saw a sign that read: HERMANN GÖRING MEMORIAL BRIDGE.
“What was that all about?” Wayne inquired of Dr. Hoffmann.
“That was an inspection checkpoint. Not many people are permitted to commute beyond a certain distance to go to and from work,” Dr. Hoffmann told Wayne. “I am because my work is considered important.” Dr. Hoffmann had always been proud of the fact that she had an extra privilege that most other citizens did not. It made her feel as if she had more freedom than she actually did.
Wayne still had a whole bunch of important questions he needed to ask the professor. Most pressing, he wanted to find out what had gone wrong with Hitler’s assassination. “So I’m to understand that the United States is now a German territory and is run by Nazis,” he said.
“Correct,” the professor responded.
“Un-fuckin-believable.”
“Please, Mr. Goldberg. I do not like profanity used in my presence,” Dr. Hoffmann said.
“Well, in certain situations I think it’s appropriate,” Wayne retorted. “And I think this is definitely one of those situations.”
Dr. Hoffmann kept her eyes on the road and didn’t say a word.
“I’m sorry. Please, go on,” Wayne apologized, which he thought absurd since she was responsible for him being there.
Dr. Hoffmann spoke, “What was called the United States is now part of the German Unified Territories, a conglomeration of the countries once called France, England, the Soviet Union, Canada, Poland, Holland, Norway, Denmark, Czech—”
“Okay, okay, I get the idea,” Wayne interrupted. “But how? Hitler was killed in 1933, six years before the beginning of World War Two. Didn’t National Socialism die out?”
“No,” the professor replied. “After Adolf Hitler died, the party’s second-in-command, Hermann Göring, took over as leader of the National Socialist Party.”
“Then?”
“Hermann Göring was a ruthless leader. Under him, the Nazi Party continued to grow at a rapid pace. The Nazis soon began invading their neighboring countries, easily conquering them. In part, because of Göring’s push for technological innovations, we won the Battle of Britain early on. We beat the British out at developing radar. After England fell, the next country Germany invaded was the Soviet Union, which too fell to the Germans.”
“What about the Nazis not being able to withstand the Russian winter? What about that?” Wayne was anxious to know.
“No, when Germany invaded the Soviet Union,” Dr. Hoffman continued on, “with half a million troops, it was in the springtime. Moscow fell just a few months later — August 19th, I believe was the date. It would have been suicide to start a campaign against an enemy the size of the Soviet Union in the fall or winter.”
“Then what happened?” Wayne asked.
“Then it was time, Göring decided, to go after the good old United States of America. It was a long, bloody battle, but in winter, 1947, after Germany became the first nation to develop the atomic bomb… well, I do not have to tell you who won the war. Nazis thought so highly of themselves after that, that they started their new calendar then, with 1949 becoming year number one.”
Wayne was amazed at what she had said. “Germany developing the atomic bomb first, before the Americans! There’s no way. What about Albert Einstein?”
“Einstein?” Dr. Hoffmann said perplexed.
“The famous scientist,” Wayne tried to jog her memory. “You know, the one with the curly hair who developed the theory of relativity. E = MC2 and all that. He left Germany in the thirties because he was Jewish.”
“Oh, him,” Dr. Hoffmann remembered who the man was. “He was killed by German spies around 1940. Nothing was sacred to the Nazis. They found a way to murder many important American scientists.”
Wayne sat speechless for a minute as everything Dr. Hoffmann said sank into his brain. What had he done? He became irate and verbally lashed out at Dr. Hoffmann in a fury, “Göring, Göring, fuckin’ Göring! You didn’t take that into account, Dr. Hoffmann. You didn’t take that into account,” Wayne repeated. “How could you not have considered Hermann Göring taking over the Nazi party, being a great military leader, developing atomic bombs, not making the mistakes Hitler did, and winning the war,” he ranted with indignation. “YOU BLOODY WELL DIDN’T TAKE THAT INTO ACCOUNT!”
Dr. Hoffmann stopped her Volkswagen in front of a small two-story house that looked as dreary and unassuming as all of the other houses that surrounded it on the quiet, suburban residential lane. On the mailbox in front of the house, the name read: Rausching.
“Do not accuse me of anything,” Dr. Hoffmann raised her voice to Wayne. What he had said upset her. “I have no memory or knowledge of actions I might have taken as an entity in a different time plane. Whatever my alternative self has done, I know nothing of it. I risked my ass to save yours.”
“My ass is here because of you,” Wayne said sharply.
Tears began to stream down Dr. Hoffmann’s cheeks. “Its all my fault. All my fault,” she softly spoke.
There were certain people Wayne could never picture crying, such as his dad, John Wayne, and Dr. Hoffmann. But, these were extraordinary circumstances, and when Wayne watched her cry, he felt closeness to her that he had not ever felt before. He gave her a hug.
“I’m sorry,” Wayne said. “Thanks for saving me. Now we have to work together and somehow undo our mistake.”
Dr. Hoffmann regained her equanimity, “We’re here.” Dr. Hoffmann handed him clothes that had been in the back seat of her car.
“What’s this?” Wayne asked.
“I brought you clean, more suitable clothing. Quickly, put them on.”
“Anything has to be more comfortable than what I’ve got on,” he stated. Wayne removed the filthy clothes he had been wearing, and put the fresh clothes on.
“I will tell the family that you have laryngitis,” Dr. Hoffmann said. “If they hear you speak, they will become suspicious of your strange accent.”
“I talk like every other New Yorker,” he said.
“Remember, New York has not existed for forty-five years. Never refer to the city as New York. That would arouse deep suspicions. The city is presently called New Berlin,” she said.
“New Berlin,” Wayne repeated the city name with a shrug. “That just doesn’t sound right. Couldn’t the Nazis think of a more original name?”
“Please, Wayne, when we are inside the house, act happy and as if everything is normal.”
Wayne chuckled, “I’ll have to give an Oscar-winning performance for that.”
“Oscar who?”
“Never mind.”
The Rausching residence was typical of how the average family in the Reich lived. The inside of the house was sparsely furnished with only the barest necessities. The Reich emphasized production of products that would help the Reich as a whole, such as military defense items and farm machinery that could better harvest grains and food items for the masses, instead of the production of a wasteful assortment of consumer goods, such as 20 different kinds of bathroom tissue or pinball machines. On a wall hung a painting of the Führer, Karl Göring and on a coffee table was Hitler’s book, “Mein Kampf”. A German flag hung prominently in the living room.
In the adjacent dining area, Mr. and Mrs. Rausching, a middle-aged couple, and their son, Karl (named after the Führer), age 11, and daughter, Carin, age 16, were sitting down to eat supper.
Dr. Hoffmann and Wayne entered the house.
“Perfect timing, Lisa,” Mr. Rausching said.
“How wonderful — you invited a guest to dine with us,” Mrs. Rausching said. She prided herself as a good cook, and always had extra despite the occasional lack of funds.
Dr. Hoffmann would have rather skipped the meal. She couldn’t afford to arouse suspicions by skipping it, however, because she always ate with them.
Wayne noticed to himself how Aryan looking the family was, with their stark blond hair and deep blue eyes. He felt out of place with his black hair and brown eyes. Most people pegged him as an Italian, and he appreciated that face at the dinner table.
The talk during dinner was normal table chatter. Mr. Rausching spoke of his day at his job at a building materials company. Karl spoke of his day at school and how he did well on a recent test while Carin spoke of trying out for the school track and field team. Dr. Hoffmann had explained how her guest had suddenly come down with a case of laryngitis. The family members did speak to Wayne, but he was able to answer their simple questions with a nod. Carin reminded Wayne of Lauren. It was not that she looked like Lauren, but she had the same type of look, as far as her facial features and long, curly blond locks. Wayne tried to avoid gazing at the teenaged girl, but probably did so more than he should have. He marveled at how much she reminded him of his girlfriend and wished that it was Lauren sitting there with him instead. When Mrs. Rausching passed the main course, Raucheraal, around the table, Wayne forced himself to smile as he put some of the eel on his plate.
After dinner, Wayne and Dr. Hoffmann joined the family in the living room to watch television. A soccer match was being televised.
Soccer is the most popular sport in the Reich and every citizen closely keeps up with the goings on in the National German Soccer League. On the first Sunday of each October, the final NGSL championship match takes place in Berlin, all activity in the Reich comes to a standstill. The Führer customarily invites the winning championship team to the Chancellery to personally congratulate the players.
The boy, Karl, was excited because his favorite team, the Munich Stars, was playing that night. A Munich player kicked a goal to break the tied game with only seconds remaining on the clock. Mr. Rausching and Karl cheered.
“Now children,” Mrs. Rausching said, “it is time for the National Pledge, then time for bed.”
The family members stood in front of the painting of the Führer, each member placing their right hand above their heart. Dr. Hoffmann did this, too, and nudged Wayne to do the same. Wayne did so, though reluctantly.
The Rausching family and Dr. Hoffmann began to recite the Reich National Pledge, “Führer, my Führer, bequeathed to me by the Lord, protect and preserve me as long as I live…”
Wayne could not believe the crap that he was hearing. The television was still on. He looked at the screen. The soccer players on the field also held their right hands above their hearts and were reciting the National Pledge.
“…Thou hast rescued Germany from deepest distress…”
Wayne turned to Dr. Hoffmann and whispered, “I don’t get it. Who’s the guy in the painting?”
“Quiet!” she whispered back and continued to recite the pledge with the family, “…Abide thou long with me, forsake me not, Führer, my Führer, my faith and my light. Heil, my Führer!”
Carin and Karl kissed their parents good night and proceeded upstairs to bed. Mr. and Mrs. Rausching invited Dr. Hoffmann and her guest to join them for fresh brewed coffee. Dr. Hoffmann explained that it was getting late and that she and her guest needed to get some work done. She thanked Mrs. Rausching for a wonderful dinner and excused herself and Wayne from the living room.
Dr. Hoffmann led Wayne upstairs to the guestroom. It was a small cubicle that consisted of nothing more than a small bed and a lamp. Wayne had seen bathrooms that were bigger than the room.
“It’s not exactly the Hilton,” Wayne said.
“I will be back in a moment,” Dr. Hoffmann said. “Rest yourself.”
Wayne, his body sore and throbbing with pain, lay down on the firm mattress of the bed. He wanted to go to sleep, and wake up to find out all that had happened to him had just been a terrible nightmare. Before he could doze off, Dr. Hoffmann walked in, holding first aid supplies. Wayne slowly sat up.
“Take off your shirt,” Dr. Hoffmann instructed Wayne.
Wayne removed his shirt, revealing his badly bruised back, on which large welts had formed. “I want you to tell me something — what was that unidentified meat that passed for dinner?” he asked. “I hope it’s not what it looked like.”
“That delicious dish was raucheraal. It is always a treat.”
“What exactly is raucheraal, if you don’t mind me asking? Please don’t say that it’s snake.”
“Smoked eel.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
Dr. Hoffmann rubbed an ointment on Wayne’s back.
“That feels good,” Wayne said. “By the way, who was the pudgy guy in the painting?”
Dr. Hoffmann replied, “Karl Göring, the Führer. He is the son of Hermann Göring.”
“I can see the resemblance,” Wayne said. “What was with that pledge? Do you believe all that garbage you were saying? Heil, my Führer, my faith and my light! Give me a break!”
“Please, Wayne, be careful with what you say. You never know who might be listening,” Dr. Hoffmann warned. She started to place bandages on the welts on Wayne’s back. In a soft tone, she said, “I have always thought, ever since I first learned the National Pledge in grade school, that it was an inadequate one. It is a vow of loyalty to a person, the Führer, when it would be more logical to pledge allegiance to our country, Germany. But I am required, as are all Germans, to state the Pledge once per evening before bedtime.”
“Well, I saw the way the kids said it,” Wayne observed, “from their hearts. They sure brainwash them young.”
Dr. Hoffmann finished the bandaging.
“Thank you,” Wayne said appreciatively. “Now, I’ve been thinking about what we can do. On January 30th, 1933, at precisely 8:35 p.m., Hitler drank a cup of champagne that I laced with something to stop his heart. Now, you send me back to that night at exactly 8:35 p.m., and I’ll use modern techniques to start his heart again so that he lives. That way, with Hitler in charge of the German armies, there will be a World War Two, but the Krauts will definitely be the losers”
“There is a problem with that,” Dr. Hoffmann said.
“What?” Wayne exclaimed. He stood up, and felt like pacing, as was his habit when he had nervous energy to burn, but the room was too small to do any of that. “It’ll work. It’s the only chance we’ve got.”
Dr. Hoffmann sat down on the bed. “I cannot run my time machine without Gadolinium crystals to power it and I haven’t any. The time machine hasn’t even been tested yet.”
“If it’s not working, how then did I arrive back in 1995?” Wayne wanted to know.
“You were sent only temporarily back to another point in time,” Dr. Hoffmann explained. “Even without a time machine, the matter that comprises your body would have been pulled back to its original starting point eventually. It simply did not belong in another time frame. A time machine would have only sped the process up. I, Dr. Hoffmann, American with a working time machine, became Dr. Hoffmann, German without a working time machine, the moment Adolf Hitler died. That is why your arrival back to 1995 was delayed. With no existing time machine to speed up the process, your organic matter was naturally brought back to its original place in time.”
Wayne did not really understand what Dr. Hoffmann was talking about. He was only interested in undoing what he had done. “Where can we get a hold of those Gadolinium crystals?”
“There is only one location where the crystals are produced,” Dr. Hoffmann answered. “At the military base called Oberkoblenz. The crystals, being very radioactive, are a component of German bombs. It would be impossible for you to get inside that base, though. Only select personnel work there.”
“Could you get in there?” Wayne asked.
Dr. Hoffmann shook her head no. “I, unfortunately, would not be able to get clearance for Oberklobenz.” Then she made a rather strange remark. “In a short while, we might all be doomed anyway.”
Wayne’s ears perked up at what he had just heard. “What do you mean by that?”
“Since the Great War, Germany has managed to threaten and coerce Japan into giving up most of its territories outside of Asia, with the exception of one very important piece of land that the Japanese still have under their control. Germany desperately wants to get a hold of this territory.”
“And that is?”
“The South American rainforest, and all of its lumber, oil, and other natural resources they can rape it of.”
Wayne sighed, “You have to be kidding.”
Dr. Hoffmann continued, “Some of my colleagues in high places have informed me that the powers that be in the Reich Ministry of War are planning to carry out their threat to bomb the Japanese capital of Tokyo. If they do that, the Japanese have said they will retaliate with what they call the T bomb.”
“The T Bomb?”
“T stands for Total Destruction,” she said. “A bomb so powerful that it could set off an atomic chain reaction and destroy all life on Earth.”
“They wouldn’t!”
“Yes, the Japanese would,” Dr. Hoffman said. “In 1975, when Germany tried to take control of the Japanese ruled Hawaiian Islands, the Japanese government used biological warfare to destroy all life on them and make them uninhabitable. They very much still have the Kamikaze attitude.”
“That’s insane,” Wayne said. Then he asked, “Where is Oberkoblenz Military Base?”
“A few kilometers away from Lindenwold,” she said.
Wayne did not know where she was talking about. “Where’s Lindenwold? Tell me where in relation to what American city.”
Dr. Hoffmann thought for a moment, and then replied, “It would have been called, I believe, Syracuse, before the war.”
Wayne knew where Syracuse was, in what had been upstate New York. He had a friend who had attended university there.
“Couldn’t you get me in? Don’t you have connections? Or passes? Or something?” Wayne said desperately. “We have to get a hold of those crystals.”
“Let’s talk about this tomorrow,” she said. “It is too risky a discussion to chance any of the family hearing it. The children are both loyal members of the Hitler Jugend.”
“But, Doc-“
“Tomorrow, you will come to work with me. You cannot be left here alone. I am sorry that I called the authorities on you, but I did so out of fear. Good night.” She turned to leave.
“Doctor Hoffmann, I will get a hold of those crystals at any cost,” Wayne promised her. “I will not live the rest of my life with this on my conscience.”
Dr. Hoffmann exited the room.
Wayne turned off the lamp and laid face down on the bed. He was completely exhausted, and his back still hurting. Every time he attempted to close his eyelids to fall asleep, a thousand images flashed before his eyes — what he had gone through in the past 24 hours, getting his hands on those crystals to power the time machine, and, of course, Lauren. Finally, with difficulty, he drifted into a deep sleep.
Wayne had slept a little under 3 hours when he jumped awake at the sound of his room door being kicked open and the sight of SS Captain Von Helldorf and two armed Gestapo Nazis with machine guns pointed directly at him. Dr. Hoffmann was with them.
“So we meet again, my friend,” Von Helldorf said in his wicked tone.
Dr. Hoffmann, wearing a troubled look on her face, blurted out, “Wayne, I had nothing to do with this, I swear to…”
“Shut her up,” Von Helldorf ordered one of his men.
The Gestapo Nazi slapped the professor hard across her face with the back of his hand.
Wayne moved towards Von Helldorf, “You fucking bastard.”
The same Nazi who had slapped Dr. Hoffmann hit Wayne hard in the stomach with the butt of his weapon. Wayne doubled over in pain.
“I checked with the Reich Institute for Scientific Experiments,” the SS Captain informed Dr. Hoffmann. “They are not familiar with your experiment. I do not like being lied to, Doctor. I have checked your records. You have served the Reich well for the past twenty-five years with your research. Why you should do anything foolish now is a mystery to me.” Von Helldorf held up the official papers that Dr. Hoffmann had given him. He directed his attention at a frightened Wayne, “These papers indicate you are a Heinrich Grubermann, identification number 87-46932, your German bloodline documented back to 1832. There is only one problem with that, my friend. The Reich Central Security Office has no records of a Heinrich Grubermann, identification number 87-46932. Can it be that you are a Jew?” He focused his cold, steely eyes on Dr. Hoffmann and said to her, “Surely you know the penalty for aiding a Jew in any way is death.” He commanded his men, “Take him away.”
Wayne was handcuffed and led out of the room.
Captain Von Helldorf put his face up to Dr. Hoffmann’s face and told her, “You will be taken care of. I can assure you of that.” He then strutted out of the house.