Chapter 18: Truman

In a very elaborate private hospital suite lays the injured President of the United States. He had been shot in the arm by a rogue bullet meant for Joseph Stalin of the Soviet Union. Stalin, however, made it out alive. He lived for a little less than a week before he was brutally murdered by the rising dictator, Adolf Hitler.

Now, Harry Truman lies in his bed. His shoulder blade is heavily bandaged. With his other arm, the democrat grips a paper. Cameras surround the president. “I’m ready,” he tells the cameramen. Red lights blink on the cameras. A man signals to Truman when they’re ready.

“Hello people of America. Hello people of other countries. I will briefly speak of my own unfortunate circumstances. Less than a week ago, as most of you know, a gunman identified as former Nazi SS Officer, Amon Göth, took a shot at Joseph Stalin of the USSR at Potsdam in Germany. Luckily, Stalin was missed and I was struck in the shoulder. This wound I bear is not fatal, I assure you, but I am limited to what actions I can perform. For example, gymnastics has become quite the challenge.” Truman chuckles at this.

“Anyway, to avoid seeming like a narcissist I will move on to the more pressing matters at hand. Yesterday, in the early Monday morning hours, the shot meant for Stalin finally hit its target. One of the leader’s residences, the Moscow Kremlin was infiltrated Sunday night. I am told that Stalin managed to escape, but was recaptured and brought to the group’s hotel room. Several pictures and films were taken in the square that their room was overlooking. Sometime during the transition between days, the renegade group leader, now believed to be a vengeful league of Nazis, addressed the square from the balcony. Another member joined the leader and talked the citizens into a revolt. This member has been heavily discussed after examination of the films. With his overbearing and persuasive charisma, combined with his off-kilter gait, some experts believe that this man is German Propaganda Minister Joseph Goebbels. However, the majority of experts argue that Goebbels’s body was burned along with that of Adolf Hitler. Those who say it is him swear on their lives that this was him.”

Harry looks down nervously. “Early in the morning, in a sadistic type of method using rope, a Nazi lowered Stalin down into the square. They told the citizens that Stalin’s fate was up to them. When he reached the ground, the rioters tore Joseph Stalin apart. Minutes after, Stalin was still alive. A slick haired man with a dark complexion used a team of rebels to surround the KGB, who had come to rescue Stalin. The man is considered to be Spanish. He persuaded the KGB to let this revolution happen. They conceded to the Spaniard. Now, the Nazi leader is the new dictator of the Soviet Union. He controls most of East Europe and vast portions of Asia. Germany is a likely target as we have not yet decided the Germans’ fate. This was meant to be done within Potsdam.”

The president’s eyes become glassy on the surface. “The world has lost a true visionary. However rash Stalin’s views were, he was a good man and extremely dedicated to his nation. I assure you, America and the world alike, these Nazis will be brought to justice. No matter what must be done I will do it. We cannot let this infantile regime transfigure into an empire. I call for a truce with Japan. I know that Americans here will detest this as a result of Pearl Harbor, but if these renegades can topple the Soviet Union, we must put aside our quarrels. We are a world united. We are one.” Truman dabs his eyes with a cloth and the cameras turn off. He wipes the sweat off his forehead and begins to rest. A formally dressed man approaches the hospital bed.

“Mr. President, turn your television on,” he directs. Truman turns his personal TV on and observes a broadcast. The setting on the screen is clearly on a rooftop of some sort. In the background stands the majestic St. Basil’s Cathedral. A blonde man dressed in a tan colored suit walks on screen and leans against the ledge.

“Interesting broadcast, Mr. Truman,” the man muses. “Sadly, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. You Americans think that you’re almighty powerful. You are mistaken.”

“Record this!” Truman orders. “We need experts to figure out who this is!”

“Also, Truman, I suggest you stop calling us the Soviet Union. Instead… hmm… the Gestiegen Reich will do.”

“What’s that mean?” Truman asks a translator.

“Uh… uhh… I believe that, literally, is the Climbed Empire.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, it could also be seen as the Risen Empire.”

“That makes more sense.”

“… and you will find a much harder challenge than you are expecting,” Hitler continues. “Good luck, Herr Truman,” Hitler finishes. The screen fades.

“Did you get the tape?” Truman asks. A media expert nods. “Send it to a lab, immediately.”

“Okay, sir,” the expert affirms.

“No. In fact, let me go.”

“Should I get you a wheelchair?” a nurse asks.

“I got shot in the shoulder. What the hell would I need a wheelchair for?” The nurse looks down at her shoes as she walks away. Truman slides himself off of the bed. “Let’s go,” he tells one of his guards.

The guard and the president walk down to a vehicle and Truman gets in. The guard gets behind the wheel. They drive through Washington DC to one of the most advanced labs in the country. Truman and the driver hastily get out after the car has peen parked.

“Get me a list of every living Nazi pig!” Truman orders as he crashes through the lab door. A technician jumps up from his chair.

“Oh, sir. We’re working on the guy. Don’t worry,” the nervous man promises.

“No. We just got a new video. The new leader shows his face better than in the balcony photos!”

“Before we go onto that, um, sir. I’m pretty damn sure that, uh, the guy is Joseph Goebbels.”

“That’s impossible. Here, take this tape,” Truman commands. The lab man takes the tape and puts it on the table.

“Uh, sir, I think this is important. About Goebbels.”

“Why?”

“Well, sir, uh, if Goebbels is alive, then that ruins all of our living Nazi lists.”

“Why?”

“Well, uh, his body was found along side Hitler’s. He’s supposed to be dead. If he’s alive then for all we know, Hitler could be. Uhh… sir.”

“Stop making such outrageous claims and examine that damn tape!”

“Sir, I wasn’t, uh, making any claims. I just was giving an example. Uh… sir. If this can be confirmed as Goebbels we will have to check every single known Nazi for face matches.”

“Just see what we can do with the living ones,” Truman rushes. The man approaches a large console and slides the tape in. They watch the tape together. The technician whose name tag reads “Erikson” is intently lost in the video clip.

“Here. Start at the beginning,” Erikson suggests to Truman as he hands a thick book to the president. The book is entitled “German SS Officers”.

“What order is the book in? Alphabetical?”

“No. Highest to lowest rank.” Truman opens to the first profile. An ominous face with a small black mustache stares back. The president is unable to look directly at the fascist’s face.

“Adolf Hitler… Führer,” he reads. He turns the page.

“These are going to be the commanders of the SS, okay?”

“Yes, yes. Whatever,” Truman shrugs. “Julius Schreck, deceased,” he examines.

“Hitler’s first commander of the SS. He was Hitler’s driver. Died a while back before all of this bullshit start… Oh, I’m sorry, sir. Pardon my language, please.”

“It’s fine. Joseph Berchtold, Erhard Heiden, deceased,” he continues. He turns another page. “Heinrich Himmler, missing. Missing?”

“Himmler was last confirmed as being somewhere near the Netherlands. He’s a real bastard. It’s completely possible that the leader could be him. However…”

“What?”

“The hairline. Himmler’s head is shaped more like a balloon, while the leader has a more elliptical head. Himmler doesn’t have that lower lip like the man in the video. However…”

“What?”

“It’s completely possible that he’s with that group. Hell, he may have even been in the hotel room.”

“Karl Hanke… deceased,” Truman comments as he looks at the next page.

“Killed while escaping a POW camp two months ago.”

“Martin Bormann… There’s no label here. Does that mean he’s alive?”

“We don’t know. They say he died in May, but there are inconsistencies.” The two men contemplate over the Nazis for hours. The results of the search are inconclusive. The phone rings in the lab. Dr. Erikson answers the phone. “Yeah. He’s here. What? What?”

“What is it, Erikson?” Truman asks. Erikson lifts the phone away from his ear and covers the mouthpiece with his hand. His voice his hushed.

“Mr. Presi…President. It’s Moscow.” The quick and sudden jerking of Truman’s face as it morphs into surprise nearly knocks the glasses off of the thirty third president’s face. Truman takes the phone from him.

“Hello?”

“Guten Abend, Herr Truman,” the voice rasps on the other side of the line and of the world.

“Get me a translator!” Truman yells. Seconds later, a staff member crashes through the doors and joins Truman and the scientist.

“I have been told that you are in a laboratory studying the video from yesterday,” the voice says in German. The translator takes the phone.

“Is this the revolutionary leader?” Truman asks the man on the other line vicariously through the translator.

“Yes. It is I,” the faraway man answers. “I hear you are trying to find out who I am. Let me save you any more trouble. I am Adolf Hitler, the Führer of Germany. Your predecessor wronged me. He and Stalin are the reason that I lost my throne. Although I didn’t target you at first, and I was actually quite angry that you were struck instead of Stalin, I now realize that I must destroy you and your country. You were president when I lost my country. You will fall just as Stalin did. I am returning with a vengeance. There will be no mercy. You remember Pearl Harbor, no? The Japs are imbeciles. This time, it will be from me. You will suffer, Mr. Truman. You will suffer so dearly. Four years ago it was a small naval base on a segregated isle. I will hit the mainland in time. Get your men ready. You Americans don’t know pain. You’ve taken everything from Germany and me, but I will take more than that from you.” Truman stumbles backwards into a desk.

“No… hang up that damned phone!” The translator hangs up.

“He’s bluffing and babbling, sir,” the translator assures.

“Adolf Hitler is alive…”

“How can we eve… even be sure that was him?” Erikson remarks.

“Adolf Hitler is alive. Dear God, no. Bring the troops home from everywhere. Everywhere. We need a new plan. I’m going to go address Congress.” However, Truman cannot do this. He collapses to the ground as his sobs echo through the laboratory. This seemingly strong Democrat is quickly and easily broken by the uprising threat of a fascist mastermind.