Lossagung drehte Triumph (Defection turned Triumph

[Aldebrando von Württemberg]

Aldebrando had just touched down in Switzerland as the sun dawned over the mountains, beginning to illuminate the mountain valley. Aldebrando stepped off the plane and made his way off the tarmac. His personal chauffer pulled up and he got in and they drove off through the streets of Bern. Officially he was here to purchase a bulk of chocolate for his HJ boys; unofficially he was here to put his career on the line to convince a defector to join the Axis. He had met the man’s brothers when he was in Africa, and the men seemed sincere about their brothers want to defect, and thus Aldebrando was here. He had chosen to dawn a plain grey suit, and not his Waffen-SS issue uniform. His driver was replaced by a Gestapo officer, though it made him uncomfortable, one did not argue with the Gestapo. Though thankfully, he was able to bring the young Florian with him, as well as his own flight crew. Florian smiled from across the back of the car at him. Aldebrando knew the boy was secretly in love with, and most likely having a physical relationship with, Ludwig, but unlike the rest of the party & SS he found that he didn’t care. He had participated in the ‘Nacht der langen Messer’ where he had aided in the culling of the Nazi Party from those who were of questionable inclinations, including Homosexuals. He just seemed to be unable to brand Florian and Ludwig with the same dishonour. The Car pulled up in front of the Bellvue Palace a luxury hotel in Old Town Bern. He got out of the car, with Florian beside him as he headed into the Hotel. He walked past the reception desk, and headed into the Restaurant, he was greeted by the Metre De.

“Herr I require a table for 3, in my usual booth in the secondary dinning room. My third party will arrive and ask for Herr Judas Carravagio.” Judas made his way into the secondary dinning room, and took his seat below an original copy of ‘The Taking of Christ’ by Caravaggio. He smirked thinking how fitting it was to be meeting under such a painting.

[Furey "Blondie" Campellone]

Furey watched the rising sun from the front seat of hisNineteen Thirty Four Ford Coup as he drove it steadily along the gravel roads of the small swiss town of Bern. He looked around, attempting to keep the sun out of his eyes and avoid a serious car crash, or any at all. He knew that what he was doing today was treasonous, and if he was caught by any allied official he was sure to be sent back to allied territory and Court Marshalled if they found out exactly what he was doing. He had been to switzerland many times before, and passed through this town once even, but that was all at night, all during a time when no one would catch him, especially because then he was in civilian clothing, right now he was in Uniform.

He looked around as he pulled his car up to the front of a beautiful hotel, to his knowledge it was once even a palace to a royal family, but now it was titled the “Bellvue Palace”. He looked around, and took the keys out of the ignition, and picked up his briefcase, handcuffing it to his wrist, and looked around as he stepped out of the car, carfully closing, and locking, the door.
As he walked up the large granite stone steps of the hotel, he felt a sense of closure, but at the same time a sense of treatchery. He knew that once he walked into that hotel, there was no going back, he had once chance to change his mind and return to his car, and to allied territory, where he would only explain to the Brigadeer that he went for a long drive after almost getting shot down, and he needed to cool off.
He made the decision, and continued up the stairs of the hotel, and pulled open the door. The insides of the Hotel were beautify, this was definitly a luxury hotel. The desk manager at the front of the hotel smiled at him, saying “Welcome to the Hotel, Major. May I help you?”

“Yes, Yes you can. Do you happen to know where the resturant is?” Furey replied.

“Why yes I do. Just walk to the end of this hallway, and you’ll be greated by our friendly Metre De. He should be able to seat you”. The man replied.

“Thank you” Furey replied, and he continued on, walking down the hallway as directed. It was a beautiful hotel, walls lined with things such as beautiful one of a kind scuplutres and paintings, and even a large picture of Herr Hitler himself, he wasn’t sure as to why this was, seeing as Switzerland was neutral, but he let it go.

He soon found himself in the middle of the entrance to a luxury resturant, and the Metre De said “May I help you, Major?"

“Yes, I am looking for a man named Judas Carravagio. Could you please direct me to him?” Furey Politely asked.

“Very well, follow me.” He said. Furey did so, and found himself walking around tables packed with either elderly people on vacation, or people who just happened to come by for the fine food that he had heard about. He looked around, and soon found the Metre De direct him to the front of a table, where two men sat next to each other, one empty seat across from them. The Metre De said “Here you are, can I get you anything to drink, sir?”

“Yes, Just some water please.” Furey replied. He nodded towards the two men, before taking the key to his briefcase out of his pants pocket, and unlocking it front his wrist, and setting it down next to the chair’s leg.

Furey recognized one of the men from a file on the New Axis Commanding Officer for the reagion around where the current front was, and where he found himself often fighting against enemy planes. His name, was Aldebrando von Württemberg, and he was a colonel in the SS, and a Lesion of the HJ. He looked at the other man, but did not recognize him. He smiled, and said “Well, I supopse you are the two men that my brothers made contact with me about. I apologize for being late, my car ran out of gas and I had to find an emergency phone to call a friend. I hope it was not too much of a disposition to you.”

He paused, and realized he hadnt introduced himself. He looked at Alderbrando and the other man, and introduced himself. “I am Furey Campellone, Major in the United States Army Air Core and commanding officer of the Ninth Air Force, but my friends affectionitly refer to me as “Blondie”, and if we are to become friends, I suppose you may call me that, Aldebrando. Now i understand you are capable of giving me safe passage into the Axis Territory, ofcourse I am safe right now here in Switzerland, but i understand that you are intrested in turning an old Quadruple Ace such as me into a Fine Reich Pilot..."

[Aldebrando von Württemberg]

Aldebrando checked his watch, the man was running late. He decided to give him a little more time, and thus flagged a waiter. The young man made his way over and addressed the man.

“Yes Herr Herzog, what may I get you?” He asked.

“2 Türkischer Kaffee, and a Weichselstrudel and am Apfelstrudel for my companion, both with cream please.” The man nodded and headed off toward the kitchen.

“So what do you think of this whole situation Florian?” Aldebrando asked the 17 year old Gestapo Officer.

“Well his being late is something I am not entirely comfortable with, but we checked out the man’s brothers, and they were sincere in their statements. So I think we shall have to see when and if the man arrives.” Florian abruptly stopped speaking when the waiter returned with the Coffee and strudel. Once the man had left, Aldebrando spoke up.

“I see, well at the very least I know that we are protected no matter the outcome of this situation.” Aldebrando sthingyed out a generous portion of whipped cream after Florian had and took his first bite. The strudel was just as good as he had remembered; though still by far not as enjoyable as the examples he got back home. The pair ate in silence for a few minutes before their guest arrived. Aldebrando stood and dabbed at his lips with the fine embroidered napkin that was used by the hotel. Aldebrando bade the man to sit and then took his own seat. He struggled to understand the man’s words; his own grasp of the English language was poor at best. Thankfully that was why he had brought Florian, who was fluent in multiple languages including English. Florian spoke up in English in response to the man’s questions,

“I am SS-Hauptsturmführer, or Captain if you prefer, Florian Globocnik of the SD, and you of course know the Herzog. As for your being late, it was not too much of an inconvenience for us as it allowed us a bit of breakfast.” Florian’s voice seemed too high for his age, and his hand movements very fluid as he spoke. Florian then took a moment to relay to Aldebrando, in German, the gist of what Furey had said. Aldebrando responded in German slow enough that Florian would be able to translate.

“The Herzog wishes to express to you that you should call him by the title of Herzog, and not to use his Christian name. As well he will refrain from referring to you by your nickname as he feels it breeds an air of familiarity that he does not often share with people to whom he is not close.” Florian paused for a moment to listen to the words of his CO, and then continued. “As for your safe passage into the Reich, that would be dependent your successfully getting through the Gestapo and the SD. Though should that happen, then there is a place for you amid the Luftwaffe in Aldebrando’s Regiment.” Aldebrando stopped speaking and Florian simply awaited his need to translate again into either German or English.

[Furey "Blondie" Campellone]

Furey looked across the table; a moment of almost icy silence seemed to float around the table where he and the two men across from his sat. He thought for a few moments, and when the Metre De returned with his glass of water, he simply said “Danke.”

He looked towards the two German men as the three sat in silence, and thought for a moment, sipping his glass of water, before speaking. He remembered this time, to speak in German. “I apologize for not speaking in German. In my line of work, it was once dangerous to even think in German. I understand you’re apprehension of me, Being an American Major, and somewhat an American and Italian Resistance Hero in the Air-force, I’m sure that your wondering why I am defecting, its quite simple, though. My heart is in America, and the way I see it, the way the war is going, First your armies are in Europe, tomorrow you’ll be in America. The reason I would like to join the Axis, is because I believe that I can help to end the war quicker, and eventually return home, to a house that preferably hasn’t been bombed out by Stuka’s and BF110’s.”

He paused, and then continued. “Naturally, I hope that you can understand that I am Nervous Also. I have seen what the SS does to Prisoners, especially Pilots whom have shot down as many planes as I, and I’m Quite Nervous. I also have the thought in my head that you could simply pump me for information, and then put me in a Prisoner of War Camp to sit out the rest of the war. I’d like to see a show of good faith from you, and at the same time I’d like to see a show of good faith from you. In my briefcase I have some papers that I’m sure the German Authorities and Intelligence would like to lay their hands on, Such as, perhaps, designs for the Engine of a P-51 Mustang, or Perhaps the specs for the British Radar.”

He paused, silence filling their part of the Restaurant once again. He took a sip of his water, and then continued. “Now, I’d like to know what exactly you’re nations show of good faith, towards me, would be, besides shooting me as soon as I get into Axis Territory, of-course.”

Furey stopped, then looked towards the Two German men. He reached down, and clutched the handle of his Leather Briefcase, and waited for a reply from the two.

[Aldebrando von Württemberg]

Florian was glad that the conversation had switched into German, he always felt a little uncomfortable speaking in English he found the language vulgar and to speak it always made his mouth feel as if there were dirt in it. He was also surprised at the man’s response to his words. Pump for information? The term didn’t quite make sense to him, as images of chest compressions or the attaching of the handle from a water pump to the man’s back ran through both Florian and Aldebrando’s minds. It seems the man could speak German, but he did so with English terms. As well they both noted the man’s use of the word Prisoner. A word neither Florian nor Aldebrando had used, and one they never intended to in this conversation. Aldebrando and Florian exchanged a glance, that showed Aldebrando’s mild irritation at the translation abilities of Florian, who only shrugged, he had done his best, but English was a strange language. Aldebrando spoke up them in German in an attempt to quell the man’s fears.

“Forgive me Major (he used the English pronunciation of the word, though it sounded odd since he spoke it as if it were a German word. Thus it came out sounding like “Mah/your”), but I think there was translation. I do not intend to take you prisoner. I intend to take you back to my estate as a guest, where you will meet with and be debriefed by both the SD, who will be represented by Florian here, and a Gestapo. You’re not to be interrogated, tortured, or held against your will. Of course should you not clear the scrutiny and questions of these men, then my pilot will bring you back to Switzerland. Officially you and I met while I was in Switzerland purchasing Chocolate for my boys, and you expressed lament at your not having seen your brothers in a long time, so I offered in good faith to bring you to see them. Or at least that is what the record will show should you not remain with us in German. And should you stay it will be added that your brothers and I had convinced you to stay in Germany to be nearer your family.” He paused then and had a sip of his coffee, it had gone cold, but its effects were still just as potent. He looked to the now collapsed pastry on his plate and grimaced at the waste throwing his napkin over it. He then brought his hand to the table top and showed the man the rings on both his hands.

“On my left hand you will see my SS Honour ring; on my right you will see the ring that marks me as the Herzog von Württemberg. In America these rings mean nothing what so ever, but in Europe and in German controlled territory specifically these rings mean everything. Thus I shall forgive your rather insulting question toward my honour. I am here, risking my career, my life, and my legacy because 2 men under my command asked for me to assist their brother return home. I am here, not in uniform, not as officer of the Wermacht, but as a man, whose subordinates and friends asked of him a favour. I expect the best from all the men under my command, and in return I will anything short of treason to aide when asked. I do this for them because I know that they too would do it for me, so tell me Major (again in English), if I can expect same from you.” His voice was cold and level, the kind of voice one would associate with mythical beings of power. Beings who no matter the actions of mortals, are beyond reproach from them.

[Furey "Blondie" Campellone]

Moderation Post

* Due to a change in heart, this topic is being closed, and CP distributed.

* Aldebrando von Württemberg - Five CP, for Quality Work

* Furey Campellone - Four CP, For Quality Work.