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“This place gives me the creeps, so I will look outside.” Said June and rushed out.
“I’ll go look upstairs, you look down here,” said Churchill senior.
Church wandered around and felt drawn to the room on the ground floor that Granny Pearl had always kept locked. When young Church had asked why she had always told him it was her and Grandpa Jack’s special room that he could not go in… yet.
Church went over, turned the knob, and opened the door.
He gasped upon entering the room as a vivid blue flame flickered at the centre of the pentagram, with its light filling the corner of the room, and two shimmering apparitions at its centre, one glowed crimson, the other multi-coloured, and the familiar aroma of Brussels sprouts wafted around the room, along with a faint trace of Brylcreem.
“Happy birthday young Churchill,” said a man’s voice, followed by a familiar woman’s voice, “Churchill, meet your Grandpa, Jack.”
Church giggled and said, “Hello Grandpa Jack, and Granny Pearl… Fancy meeting you here.”
Both spirits chuckled. Granny Pearl then said. “Happy birthday Church; we can talk later, but for now, let’s make your parents happy so they will leave and we can begin your tutoring.”
“Your dad always was a greedy, money-grabbing little sod,” interrupted Jack.
“Be quiet Jack, we have to help Church.” Pearl curtly replied.
“You must have been secretly seeing the bloody milkman. Certainly no son of mine,” grumbled Jack.
“Shush stupid,” snapped Pearl. Church looked on at this exchange between the two spirits and chuckled. He knew his life would now change for the better.
Pearl gave Church directions to an area outside the cottage and told him that he would find a chest buried there containing various items. She instructed him on what to give his parents and what he must keep.
Church left the portal room and called his father downstairs. Although he and his father had never spoken about his gift, Churchill senior was aware his parents were different. He also knew his son was different and had the gift, so it did not surprise him when he said that Pearl had told him where she buried their inheritance.
“Okay son. Let’s go find it, but say nothing to June about your grandmother’s ghost.”
Church and his parents found the spot under a large, gnarled oak tree root, marked by a Cross and Rose symbol scorched into the ground. Church dug up an ancient chest, took the ancient key and chain from around his neck, and opened the lock.
The old lid creaked open, and they all peered inside.
Churchill senior and June smiled.
The chest contained various items of gold and silver jewellery adorned with rough-cut precious stones, along with gold coins and ingots.
Churchill senior grinned as he picked up a coin dating back to the 16th century, while June picked up a bejewelled necklace and put it against her neck, getting the nod of approval from her husband.
Church was more interested in an old leather-bound journal he saw at the bottom.
They took the chest into the cottage and laid it on the kitchen table. While June fetched a cold box from the car containing sandwiches and cakes she had brought along, Churchill senior loaded items from the chest into a duffel bag.
Church removed the book and glanced within the pages, made from varying materials, from old parchment to typing paper. The journal, compiled over the centuries by different authors, with the later entries put in by his grandmother, who he knew had an old typewriter.
Once the box was empty, Church locked it and replaced the key around his neck as Pearl had instructed. He placed the chest into an old cupboard in the scullery.
After eating the sandwiches and cakes, Churchill senior announced, “Okay son we will leave you to settle in and until you have a phone installed, I will visit once a week and bring you fresh supplies.”
Church knew they were impatient to leave and go to value and sell their inheritance. “Thanks dad,” he said, happy they were leaving.
“Will you be alright Churchill? You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” said June, sounding concerned.
“I will be fine mum,” Church replied and smiled.
“He’ll be okay, come on let’s go June. We have a lot to do,” said Churchill senior heading for the door.
His parents drove away looking delighted with their newfound wealth.
With his parents gone, Church went to the portal room to learn about the family business.
4
For there is one thing we must never forget; the majority can never replace the man.
The year was 1945. Magnificent buildings that once stood proudly in the opulent city of Berlin now lay in rubble, decimated by an angry world hell-bent on exacting revenge by annihilating the city and making German people atone for the atrocities committed by their country over the past few years.
Although spring was in the air, no aromas of freshly mown grass and fragrant flowers carried on the warm breeze. Instead, the overpowering smells of cordite, napalm, and the vile stench from the charred, rotting corpses, which lay strewn amongst the rubble-filled graveyard of the city.
With World War 2 almost over and while the demoralised German people came to terms with an uncertain future, the leaders of this fallen nation were now deep within a bunker, planning their next and final atrocity.
* * *
Located fifty feet beneath the once picturesque Gardens of the Reichskanzlei chancellery building, there was a large concrete and steel bunker. Within the bunker, several sections built to protect the occupants from the Allied bombing blitz. Inside the bunker gathered a group of men, which included several military figures and a few civilians. They gathered around a large table while their leader screamed at them, and by their nervous expressions, they were terrified of this individual.
Adolf Hitler looked furious as he glared at his War Cabinet and senior officials of his Nazi Party, in a large plush conference room within the ‘Führerbunker.’
Hitler pounded his fist onto the desk and hunched over the table with rage in his eyes.
“Because of your incompetence, we are losing this war,” he hollered.
He looked into each face around him, giving them all an icy-cold stare. His steely eyes burrowed into their souls. He composed himself, inhaled, swept his fringe away from his forehead, glared at General Wilhelm Kietel, and said, “Kietel, give me some good news.”
Kietel’s hands shook as he organised charts on the desk, and with a quiver in his voice said, “My Füehrer, I have no good news. The American, European, and Russian forces will be in Berlin by next week.”
Again incensed, Hitler shouted obscenities and accusations of treason at the General, who hung his head looking embarrassed and afraid.
Hitler then focused his attention on a large man dressed in a white uniform.
He asked Herman Goering, “What about our beloved Luftwaffe?”
“Füehrer, we only have a few planes and pilots remaining, although we…”
“Silence!” Hitler commanded. Outraged, he struck the table hard again.
“I suppose our great fleet is also finished.” He glared at Admiral Raeder, who nodded and replied, “We are still fighting Füehrer, but we are taking heavy losses from the enemy.”
Hitler remained silent for a few moments and then addressed the group. “We must regroup and win this war. Our enemy is inferior to us.” He continued with his orders. “Hienrich, you and the S.S., along with Walter and Alfred, round up anyone who can carry a weapon, old men or young boys, and get them to defend their fatherland.”
Hienrich Himmler, Field Marshal Walter Von Brauchitsch and General Alfred Jodl clicked their heels in salute. “At once Füehrer,” They said, confirming that they would carry out Hitler’s order, although they realised the futility.
Hitler leant over the table, sighed, and lowered his head. The others noticed his hands shaking as he mumbled to himself.
“My Füehrer; we must get you out of Germany,” said Max Amann, a senior Nazi Party official. “We have false Red Cross papers for you and Eva with an escape route planned. We can…”
Hitler looked up, giving Amann a cold stare, stopping him in mid-speech.
“Do you mean a *Ratline, Max?” He asked.
“Yes, my Füehrer, we planned one for you,” Max stammered, looking nervous.
“Do you think of your Füehrer as a rat Max?” said Hitler, sounding calm.
“No Füehrer, I am concerned about…”
“Your concerns do not interest me, Amann!” Hitler yelled interrupting Amann, who hung his head and looked at the floor as the tempo in Hitler’s voice reached a crescendo. He again slapped the desk hard and returned to staring at the individuals, screaming, “I will never leave my beloved Germany. Only you fools think this war is lost. I am the German people, and I will have victory. We cannot be defeated. We are the superior race, and I am your Füehrer. There will be no surrender or escape for anyone.” He stood silent for a moment and looked at certain individuals, who nodded as his gaze fell upon them. He then bellowed, “Do I make myself clear? No escape and no surrender… Now get out of my sight.”
He slouched again over the table as some of the men left the room ignored by Hitler.
Several men remained behind, unnoticed by the others who left with their heads lowered, avoiding Hitler’s gaze, and wrath.
Two guards closed the large doors behind the last man to leave. Hitler looked at the six individuals remaining in the room.
SS – Grupenfüehrer Heinrich Műller - Chief of the Gestapo.
SS- Oberfüehrer Benno Von Arent.
Gross Admiral, Karl Dönitz.
Professor Kurt Gutzieg.
SS – Hauptsurmfüehrer Doctor Josef Mengele, and Professor Hellmuth Walter.
Hitler smiled at the men, and sounding calm, asked, “Has everything been prepared, gentlemen?”
All six raised briefcases, showing the Füehrer. Hitler smiled.
“Excellent,” he said and shouted over to a guard at the door.
A guard marched over to Hitler, giving him a smart ‘hitlergruss.’ Nazi salute.
“Take the Gross Admiral, Doctor Mengele, and the professors to the stateroom and ensure they are granted all necessary comforts,” he ordered, and then spoke to the four, “Karl, Kurt, Hellmuth, Josef, excuse me, we have an important matter to deal with first. I will summon you when ready.”
The four saluted Hitler and followed the guard out of the conference room.
Hitler faced the two remaining SS officers smiled and said, “Heinrich, Benno, we have guests waiting to see us, so let’s retire to more comfortable surroundings.”
He turned and went over to a wall where a large red flag with a white circle and black swastika imprinted on it hung over a doorway. He moved the flag to one side and pushed a section of the wall. A door opened and the three head down a well-lit shaft, with only a gentle buzz, heard from the air filtration units’ battery generators. They walked the short distance along the tunnel, entering through a door into Hitler’s drawing-room.
Another Nazi flag was on the wall and in front of the flag was a large desk, with a telephone on one corner, and a strongbox placed at its centre. The red chest had a swastika symbol painted on each side, with STRENG GEHEIM: BUCH MOSE (TOP SECRET: GENESIS) stencilled across the top.
In the centre of the room, several armchairs were around a large coffee table. The main entrance to Hitler’s drawing-room was from double doors opposite, with two armed SS soldiers stationed outside, and another SS soldier stood by the side of a well-stocked drinks cabinet. The soldier snapped to attention when the party entered the room.
Chandeliers illuminated the room and several art masterpieces adorned each wall. A large, ornate hearth situated to the right of the room with a raging, smokeless coal fire, burning behind a golden antique fire surround and a false York Stone chimney. Despite having powerful air filters and extractors hidden behind the chimney, the room smelt of coal.
Even without windows and natural light, the room resembled an elaborate drawing-room, although it was underground and encased in thick concrete and steel.
Already seated in the room, was a young blonde woman, Hans Kruger, and a small, dark-haired, middle-aged man. They all rose when Hitler entered.
Hitler instructed them all to take a seat and offered them a drink.
“Hans, Erik, Eva,” said Hitler, smiling at those already in the room. He sat on the middle chair, looked at the five and said, “You know why we are here, so let’s get on with it.”
The guard placed drinks on the table beside the men and woman and then left the room.
“Eva, you don’t need to be here for this, so go to your room,” he commanded Eva Braun, who nodded, smiled at the men, took her drink, and left the room.
Gestapo Chief Heinrich Műller removed maps from his case and laid them out on the table and they all leaned over to look.
Hitler pointed to an area marked on the map and asked, “You are sure there are no enemy forces in this area?”
Műller looked at Hitler and replied, “Yes, Füehrer, I am positive. This area has no strategic value or use, so there is no military activity there.”
Hitler looked over at the chisel-jawed Hans Kruger and enquired, “Is everything prepared, Hans?”
Hans Kruger sat upright, staring straight ahead. “Yes my Füehrer, my team is ready and awaiting your order.”
Hitler looked at the map, smiled, and addressed the smaller man, “Erik, you have done well with this find. Are you prepared?”
“Yes, my Füehrer, everything has been taken care of, and our equipment will work,” said the little Jewish man, smirking.
Hitler smiled and asked, “How do you know it will work, Erik? We haven’t been able to test it.”
The small Jewish man pushed his wire-rimmed spectacles further up the bridge of his nose, smiled, and with an air of confidence, said, “I am sure Füehrer,”
This small Jewish man seemed not to hold any fear of the Füehrer, which puzzled the military men in the room. They all had the same lingering doubts about Erik Jan Hanussen. Hitler was a staunch anti-Semitic, so wondered why this Jew was always allowed an immediate audience with Hitler. They knew Erik always stayed close to their Füehrer, who would always listen to his advice, more so than any other of his war chiefs. They could not understand their close relationship and Erik unnerved them all with his sinister, creepy demeanour.
Hitler studied the plans and the markings of a small valley alongside a glacial stream, near the town of Schenkenzell, in the Kinzigtal valley at the edge of the Black Forest. A square grid drawn around an area in the small valley appeared to be a planned excavation site.
“Make sure you don’t slow them down Erik,” said Hitler, who smiled at Erik Jan Hanussen, his ‘Jewish psychic.’ Erik smiled back, and looking nervous, glanced at the large Hans Kruger, Hitler’s Leibstandarte SS, personal bodyguard, and assassin, sitting next to him.
“No my Füehrer, I will try not to.” stammered Erik.
“Kruger, make sure no harm befalls Erik. The third Reich’s continuing existence and future 1,000-year reign rest on your shoulders,” said Hitler, glaring at Hans.
“I will take good care of Herr Jan Hanussen, My Füehrer,” said Hans, smirking at Erik.
“You have your orders, so carry them out. Failure is not an option and will result in your death Hans,” said Hitler, with a menace in his voice.
