The Soldier 1
Der Soldat
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Cover designed by min jung kim
Published by i-ePUB, Inc.
ISBN No. 978-89-6766-225-7
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#1323, Officetel 3 Danji, 34 Sajik-ro 8 Gilm Jongno-gu, Seoul, Korea
Der Soldat
Prologue
June 6, 1944
The Allied forces carried out a major amphibious landing operation on German-occupied Normandy.
Jackal still remembers that day quite vividly.
Bombers were covering the sky, the burning grounds, and burnt bodies that were scorched to the point of unrecognition.
In that hellish reality,
in order to save his life savior,
in order to stay alive,
and in order to survive the war,
he eventually reached out and grabbed his gun.
When the coldness of the trigger touched his finger, the instinct of the hunter roaming around Mt. Baekdu stirred up.
“I can’t die in a place like this. My mother…I have to meet my mother!”
This was the moment the legend of the “Devil of Cherbourg” began.
And on July 1944, the allied forces set an enormous price on the Devil of Cherbourg. Dead or alive.
However, even after the war had ceased, no one knew the whereabouts of the man who had put fear into the minds of the entire allied forces. Even to this day.
Chapter 1
In the golden cigarette case, there were about two American Lucky Strike cigarettes. Eric Schmidt took one, put it in his mouth, and then started to examine his gun.
Ppsh 41. The gun that he captured during the Eastern Front in 1942, and used until the end of the war. There were a lot of ‘kill’ symbols that were engraved at the butt plate of the gun, which was made out of Zelkova. Just by glancing at it, you were able to see more than two hundred markings.
It was a ridiculous number that someone could simply disregard as a bluff.
An American captain who was watching him and his gun’s plate, whispered to his fellow officer who was standing beside him.
“What? He’s just a commissioned officer. You’re saying that he killed that many?”
“He’s from Einsatzgruppen.”
The colleague standing beside him glared at Eric Schmidt’s protruding cheekbone with despise.
“What’s that?”
“Ethnic cleaning.”
“…That son of a bitch.”
The American captain stared at the dreary building covered in darkness.
“He’s cut out for this.”
It was five-story multifamily apartment with parts of the walls already crumbled down by the bombing and shelling, revealing several of the units interior. It was a building literally on the brink of collapsing.
No one could possibly live there. But, even in the broken down apartment, you were able to see the faint lights and hear the quiet cries of the babies, proof that a few people were still continuing their lives in that rumble.
“Well, Mr. American captain.”
Eric Schmidt opened his mouth as he dropped his burnt cigarette butt to the ground.
“So, you’re saying that if we drag out all the people living there, you will acquit us?”
The lack of emotions in his eyes and his impassive speech spooked the American officers, who just answered by nodding their heads.
“To be precise, we will be erasing your records. Eric Schmidt and his crew will have never existed in the first place.
“Sounds great. But,”
Eric Schmidt looked around.
“Is it necessary to mobilize such a large amount of military force and equipment for a simple evacuation operation? “
Numerous amount of war weapons where placed, centering the apartment.
A heavy tank, an anti-tank gun, an anti-aircraft gun, and a machine gun - weapons that once made the world tremble in fear during the Third Reich. If these go off, the deteriorating building will disappear without a trace. Along with everyone inside.
An American captain, with a nametag that read ‘J. Cunnings’, smiled at Eric Schmidt’s question and answered.
“Because it’s necessary.”
As Eric Schmidt lifted his hands, he felt a sense of anxiety behind the captain’s smile.
“Platoon…Advance!”
A group of soldiers wearing the Stahlhelmㅡthe symbol of the German Armyㅡ approached the building with Eric Schmidt’s lead.
The marks that were on their helmets were nowhere to be seen with the occasional glints from the moonlight. Only traces of rough scratches remained.
Because now, their past will be destroyed and they too will disappear.
Einsatzgruppen.
They are murderers and slaughterers of the human race.
And in order to survive, they’re carrying out their last operation ordered by their new master.
Their employers were watching the Einsatzgruppen’s advance with cold, sullen eyes.
“You think he’d really be there?”
“Of course. The prophecy of the Cold Dreamer has never been wrong.”
“I hope that’s true. I might be able to know… the strength of one who has reached level 5.”
An intense murderous look flashed across J. Cunnings’ blue eyes.
Blue light bathed his right hand, which he had thrusted up towards the sky with his palm facing the sky, as if trying seize it.
A captain watched the scene with intrigue. The name emblazoned on his name tag was J. McCauley.
“So, Jericho, you’ve gained another achievement.”
After offering his congratulations, James McCauley turned around and continued to speak.
“But keep in mind. We always have to remain as watchers until the very end.”
He had his back turned, but in front of him were numerous people in American uniforms.
Everyone had their heads bowed, and in their hands were antique swords instead of the Garand rifles, an American symbol.
Jericho knew what that meant.
"The swords of shaman. It’s quite ostentatious…for insurance."
*Bang! Bang!*
Searchlights simultaneously turned on and brightened the surroundings by etching a huge light circle on the building.
Below that, a whistle, along with harsh German, filled the air.
“Pigs! All of you! Crawl out, now!”
The eviction operation of Einsatzgruppen began.
With expressionless eyes, Eric Schmidt’s fingers where on the tiger while staring at his subordinates hauling out the residents.
The commands of the soldiers were piercing through the air and residents were coming out of the building one after the other, with their hands behind their heads and eyes filled with intense fear.
“First floor, eviction completed.”
A subordinate reported by slanting his hand up towards the sky and giving a Nazi salute.
Seeing that, Eric Schmidt mockingly replied with an American salute.
“Remember, Sergeant. It’s the American Dream….the American Dream.”
The evacuation of the building was conducted smoothly.
They drove out the residents from the first, second, and third floors in order, leaving only the fourth and fifth floors.
The number of households from the third to fifth floors, suffered severely from a bombardment, leaving only half of the residence to be hauled out.
‘What the? They’re goin’ to give us our lives and freedom back for this?”
The task w
as too easy and the compensation was too high compared to the difficulty of the job. There was no need to have asked the Einsatzgruppen. The job was easy enough for some homeless good-for-nothings to have accomplished it.
But why were we insisted on being brought here?
It would’ve been different if it was the German Wehrmacht or even Hitler’s guard, the SS. Even then, it would’ve been a heavy burden to release a group of serious criminal offenders like Einsatzgruppen.
Eric Schmidt, unable to think straight with all the complexity, took out another Lucky Strike cigarette from the cigarette case and put it in his mouth.
While he was at a prison camp, his colleagues created a common excuse which they used to defend themselves.
It was,
‘We just followed orders from above.’
However, from Eric Schmidt’s point of view, that was ludicrous. For him, who once held life-or-death authority of others, the person who had the last word, was most important.
And the winner, the Allied Forces, had the last word.
*…puffff*
He took in another drag on the cigarette and thought that even thinking about freedom was a luxury.
If I didn’t accept this request, I would’ve been taken to the Nürnberg, gotten a cursory trial, and faced death by hanging. Or maybe, would’ve been taken to the Soviets and died miserably in the cold colony of Siberia.
After clearing his mind, Eric Schmidt took out a pocket watch and checked the time.
“The work suddenly slowed down. What happened?”
It took 15 minutes for the evacuation of the first three floors. So, approximately 5 minutes per.
But, after receiving the completion report on the third, 10 minutes have passed and no report was given.
If something went wrong, sounds of gun shots would have filled the air or a signal equivalent to this, but …. nothing.
The sergeant, who stood next to him, shouted towards the apartment.
However, there weren’t any answers.
The sergeant took out his whistle and blew.
The sharp sound echoed up to the sky of the ruined Berlin.
And there were still silence. There were no answers coming from the building.
“I'll check it out.”
The sergeant released the safety on his gun and started to walk forward. But, right then, Eric Schmidt blocked his way.
“Follow me. I’ve got to check this for myself.”
Eric Schmidt placed his fingers on the trigger of the ppsh-41, his favorite, and leaded.
The darkness of the apartment entrance, which looked like the doors to hell, welcomed them.
The soldier with the lantern came up front, lifting the darkness and revealing the real appearance of the entrance.
Shards of bricks, wastes and unknown black lumps of metal were spread all over the place.
Eric Schmidt walked pass the entrance and climbed up the stairs without any hesitation. The stench of urine hit him after a couple of steps up.
“This apartment was quite expensive. A lot of men came from Bayern lived here.”
A soldier from Berlin told his colleague.
“Now, it became a resort for beggars.”
Eric Schmidt responded.
Finally, they reached the entrance of the fourth floor.
Eric Schmidt got his subordinate to check for any reactions from the fourth floor.
But nothing
“Ready.”
The eyes of the Einsatzgruppen became cold.
* Schklikt, klikt*
Countless guns were being reloaded simultaneously, making the sounds unite as one.
“Fritz. Erich. Lead out.”
Two tall soldiers climbed the stairs, holding a lantern. They slowly climbed the stairs, step by step, lighting the area of the 4th floor. Once they were in the hallway, they scattered and cautiously observed the surroundings.
“All clear!”
“There’s nothing wrong here either.”
Eric Schmidt slowly climbed the stairs, his crew right behind him.
The moment he removed his feet from the last step, Fritz's voice loudly echoed in the hallway.
“There’s someone there.”
Eric Schmidt quickly headed towards that way.
“…Hey. What are you doing?”
“Stop playing around and stand up. Hey!”
The soldiers gathered around the soldier.
“What happened?”
Eric Schmidt pushed the soldiers back and went to the soldier in question. The soldier was frozen stiff, like a statue.
“…Is he dead?”
Eric Schmidt shook his head to the question.
The warmth of the body was still there.
He was definitely breathing,
but his pupils were diluted.
The soldier wasn’t able to move, as if he was under someone’s spell. He didn’t budge even when someone slapped his face or shook his shoulders. The soldiers, who had initially thought this was a joke, turned serious.
‘What the hell happened?’
It was a strange.
“...!”
Suddenly, Eric Schmidt recalled his initial question - that the job was too easy compared to the compensation that was being offered.
“…Can it be?...
The moment he harbored doubts again and turned his head, Eric Schmidt saw something.
It was something glittering due to the blood.
It looked like a gem or a shining star.
However, when he realized that the identity of the blood-red glittering light was due to somebody’s eyes watching them, Eric Schmidt felt an absolute horror that he never had experienced before.
Gun shots rang in the night sky of dark Berlin.
*Bratatatat!*
With the sudden “bang” of a gunshot, the windows of a few apartments broke and its debris scattered down.
Standing in front of the searchlight and watching the shards of glass flying in all directions, two U.S. captains looked at each other.
“It finally started.”
"Right… After 78 years…the hunt of the Blood Demon has begun!"
“Coordinates fixed!”
*Voooooooomp.*
Heavy tank Tiger(PzKpfw Ⅵ Ausf. E, Tigger1)
During the Great War, the engine of the formidable tank that was feared by the Allied Forces ran, roared like a tiger.
The 56-caliber 88mm gun barrel was moving, pointing towards the window on the fourth floor of the apartment building.
“High explosive loaded. Wait for fire.”
James McCauley walked toward the Tigger tank, listening to the loud shouts from the tank’s commander.
“Let’s see.”
Gracefully, James got on the gun turret of the tanks in a single leap. The tank commander, who was observing his movements, was amazed.
The height between the gun turret and the ground was about three meters. It would’ve been impossible even for the gold medalist during the Berlin Olympics, which took place on these grounds nine years ago, to be able to jump from the ground to the gun turret in a single jump.
No. It wasn’t humanly possible.
But the U.S. captain did it so easily.
“.....”
“Mind your own business and just adjust your aim correctly.”
James McCauley kept an eye on the situation inside the building by collecting the strength of vision.
No movements.
Perhaps, all the Einsatzgruppens were killed.
“It’s like using poison to get rid of another poison."
He ordered the tank commander to open fire.
The bombardment was pointed to the center of the fourth floor, the farthest window to the right.
“Fire!”
With the command from the tank commander, the Tigger's gun barrel blasted fire.
*Vooooomp!*
The shots whistled in a straight line and struck the fourth floor walls.
; *Rumble, crash*.
The destructive power was strong enough to shake the earth’s axis. The building started to tremble and shake of its debris.
“Again! Next window!”
*Vooooooomp.*
The skilled tank driver reloaded in seconds, and the Tigger tank mercilessly bombarded the apartment windows from right to left, one by one.
“It reminds me of Stalingrad.”
The tank commander spoke reminiscently while watching the building being destroyed.
“Oh, you served there as well? You’re lucky to have survived.”
“Before we were captured, I was transported to the rear base due my injuries.”
The tank commander pushed his upper body with his firm arms and revealed his legs hidden inside the turret.
There was nothing below the knees. The legs weren’t there. Nothing was left.
James smiled.
“Why haven’t you been discharged?”
“If I had, I wouldn’t’ve even survived this far, because my hometown is Königsberg.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. My family was engulfed under the lake.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
*Vooooomp!*
The barrel of Tigger continued to fire during their talk.
“It’s falling!”
Having already been attacked by previous bombings, the building no longer had the power to withstand another attack. The building looked like it was going to topple over, but instead it started to crumble like sand.
A huge cloud of dust rose to the air and began to swarm towards the tank.
“Wow!”
James cheered and watched the building fall apart.