The Metal Man: An Account of a WW2 Nazi Cyborg (2 page)

‘You think my unit hasn’t seen real combat?’ inquired Ackermann, his voice dangerously calm even as his eyes became clear with hatred.

Realizing that this whole situation was threatening to spiral out of control, Brucker steeled himself to say something placatory…

There came a sudden cry from the entrance to the barn –

‘Sir!’

Both Ackermann and Brucker looked to see who it was. One of Ackermann’s men, carrying something in his hand. As the SS trooper got nearer, Brucker saw that the item was a small dagger. It looked blunt, a little rusty and distinctly undangerous.

‘I found this on one of the men, sir,’ reported the trooper to Ackermann, giving Brucker a suspicious glance.

Ackermann nodded, and took the weapon from his subordinate.

‘Very good. Separate the partisan who was carrying this dagger from the rest of the villagers. Have you assembled them all together yet?’

‘Nearly, sir, though we think a few may still be hiding in some of the larger buildings…’

‘Okay, then – hurry up the search.’

‘Yes sir.’

As the trooper left the barn, Ackermann stared triumphantly at the other officer.

‘So there are no partisans here, eh?’ he said sarcastically.

Brucker shook his head with sheer disbelief.

‘And that’s it – that’s your proof?’ he demanded, pointing at the small dagger. ‘You’d have trouble cutting bread with that.’

Ackermann shook his head.

‘The man on whom this weapon was found will be shot, and –’

‘ – then you’ll set fire to the whole village, just for good measure,’ Brucker said between gritted teeth, sudden rage threatening to overwhelm him. He was so goddamn tired of this war; sick and tired of all the death and of having to deal with men like Ackermann. Soldiers who were supposed to be on his side, but who were more akin to animals than humans…

‘After all, shooting and raping peasants and burning up buildings is about all your men are good for, isn’t it?’ hissed Brucker then, wholly unable to stop himself. ‘The lousy bloody set of cowards…’

Ackermann’s eyes widened slightly as he took a step backwards, his right hand moving towards his holstered pistol.

‘Damn you, Brucker, you’ll take that back or – ’

Instinctively, Brucker’s hand also went quickly towards his own pistol. The young woman stood near them was now completely forgotten.

But before either man could act further, they were startled by a shrill scream coming from outside. 

‘Your men, again?’ growled Brucker, who then walked quickly towards the barn’s entrance.

Ackermann’s wolf-like eyes watched his retreating back just for a moment, as there came another scream – and now the smell of smoke.

Before Ackermann followed Brucker, almost without thinking, he secreted the dagger inside his combat jacket…

2

‘Are you insane, Captain Reinhardt?’

Adolf Hitler asked the question quietly. But still Reinhardt blanched at the fury barely concealed in the Fuhrer’s steel-blue eyes. 

‘No – no,
Mein
Fuhrer. Absolutely not… I assure you that this is a feasible plan,’ stammered Reinhardt, wondering if he dared produce a handkerchief to wipe his perspiring brow.

Hitler motioned at the pile of folders on one side of his large desk. 

‘After you requested this meeting with me,’ he began in the same, dangerously even tone of voice, ‘I made a point of reading up on the work of your department.

‘And,’ continued the Fuhrer, with a slight nod of approval, ‘there is no doubt that this work is excellent, and of great importance to the Reich. That is why you are sitting here now.’

At this, Reinhardt began to breathe slightly more easily.

‘Yes, I’ve read many of the documents contained within these folders – most of which, as you are of course aware, are subject to the highest security classifications,’ declared Hitler. ‘And I’ve found it all fascinating – jet engines, sloped armor, infra-red radar, guided missiles…

‘And now,’ concluded Hitler, ‘you say that you – or rather, this department of yours – can build Germany a…
robot
?’

The ill-disguised look of angry disbelief was back in his eyes. Reinhardt swallowed thickly, by now sweating freely.

‘Not exactly just a… robot,
Mein
Fuhrer,’ he said hesitantly. ‘But I have some… details, here.’

Reinhardt put the folder that had until now been lying on his lap onto the desk. Hitler picked it up with an almost detectable air of reluctance. Clearly, he considered this meeting to be a waste of his time.

Still, he at least opened the folder and began to read some of the documents contained inside. An array of schematics and blueprints, all carefully annotated by the same, neat hand.

As Hitler read, Reinhardt found himself wondering exactly where the hell he was. Deep in a bunker located somewhere in western Berlin, was as close as he could call it.

When the three members of
Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler
(‘LSSAH’) – Hitler’s personal bodyguard – had arrived to pick him up, he’d first been given a thorough body- search, with accompanying, polite apologies for the discourtesy. He’d then been asked to sit in the rear of a black Mercedes 260D, curtains drawn across the back windows, and had also been made to wear a blindfold.

So it was in total darkness that the approximate half-hour journey had taken place. Despite his rank and his involvement with highly-secretive scientific and research operations, Reinhardt was having the precise location of the Fuhrer kept secret from him.

Only when they’d entered the elevator that went deep into the bowels of the cavernously large bunker, had Reinhardt’s blindfold finally been removed. He’d been escorted along any number of winding corridors, before being shown into the room with the ornate wooden desk where Hitler was sat working.

Reinhardt had assumed he’d have to talk to Germany’s ruler in the presence of at least one bodyguard. But to his surprise, Hitler had ordered that he and his guest be brought coffee before being left alone.  

Initial conversation had been polite, if a little strained. And then Reinhardt – quickly ‘encouraged’ to come to the point of his secretive and highly unusual visit – had cautiously begun to detail his department’s most ambitious plan to date.

Which was precisely when Hitler’s demeanor had become a little chilly… 

…Several minutes passed as Hitler slowly turned the pages. The ticking of the large clock on the wall the only noise in the room. Reinhardt sat bolt upright in the chair, an empty cup on a saucer on the desk in front of him. He wished he hadn’t drunk his coffee so quickly. He had a weak bladder anyway – add coffee along with his current, extreme state of nervousness, and there was the potential of having a most embarrassing accident in the presence of the Fuhrer himself.

Finally, Hitler slowly put down the file Reinhardt had given him beside the cup of coffee he’d not yet touched. For several long seconds before he spoke, his icy blue eyes bored into Reinhardt’s own.

‘You wish me to authorize your department to build something that will cost as much as three battleships to construct – and which also appears to require some of the… remains… of a dead soldier?’ asked the Fuhrer levelly.

Reinhardt swallowed again.

‘Yes,
Mein
Fuhrer,’ he replied. There didn’t seem to be any other answer he could give.

‘And why, exactly, should I wish for this… alleged ‘super-soldier’ to be built, in any case?’

Careful, Wilhelm
Reinhardt instructed himself.
Be so very, very careful here
. There was to be not the slightest suggestion that Germany might be losing the war – even if everyone (save for Adolf Hitler and a handful of diehard Nazis) was by now fully aware that this was
exactly
what was happening.

‘
Mein
Fuhrer,’ Reinhardt began. ‘My department intends to construct – something – that will be virtually indestructible. Nothing fired by a conventional firearm – not even a heavy-duty machinegun – will be able to penetrate its armor. And whereas a grenade thrown directly in its path may possibly succeed in blowing it over, it will then just stand straight back up again… 

‘
Mein
Fuhrer,’ Reinhardt repeated, unconsciously leaning forward slightly in his chair, his eyes alight with passion. ‘
Mein
Fuhrer this… this Metal Man… It will be a true marvel of German technology. It will do the work of one hundred German soldiers. It will make the Allied forces cower before it.
That
is why I wish you to authorize its construction.’

Reinhardt sat back, suddenly concerned that he’d said too much. And why on Earth had he suddenly labeled this proposed project ‘Metal Man’? He’d no idea: such a name had come almost without conscious thought. It had just sprung naturally to his lips, all at once.

Hitler continued to stare at the thin, facially-disfigured Captain with the metal-framed glasses and the imploring hands. But Hitler now wore the faintest of smiles. Gone was the previous impression of barely-contained rage.

‘‘Metal Man’,’ said Hitler softly, almost to himself. ‘‘
Der Metallmann
’ – yes, perhaps…’

A few more seconds of silence… Then he spoke directly, brusquely, to Reinhardt –

‘Very well, Captain; consider this project of yours authorized.’

‘
Mein
Fuhrer…’ Reinhardt began, his eyes widening with grateful surprise.

Waving a hand to silence him, Hitler continued: ‘You will receive a phone call presently, after you have returned from here to your departmental headquarters. This call will tell you exactly how and when you are to make your reports, concerning the progress of this… project.

‘From this moment on, you are to treat it as being subject to the highest possible security classification. Is this understood?’

‘Yes,
Mein
Fuhrer.’ Reinhardt gulped yet again. He now had to broach the most delicate and potentially dangerous part of his request.

‘There is just one more thing…’ he began.

‘Yes?’ returned Hitler impatiently. ‘What is it?’

‘There is just one man who is capable of building the – well, the Metal Man. My finest scientist; indeed Germany’s, perhaps Europe’s finest…’

‘Captain Reinhardt,’ broke in Hitler, his voice once again dangerously calm. ‘I would be grateful if you would say exactly what it is you want…’

‘This scientist was arrested yesterday,
Mein
Fuhrer,’ blurted Reinhardt.

For the first time, Hitler appeared slightly surprised.

‘Arrested?’ he questioned. ‘By whom?’

‘The Gestapo,
Mein
Fuhrer.’

Hitler raised his eyebrows slightly; and then the look of surprise was gone.

‘And what was this… scientist of yours arrested for?’ he asked.

‘I repeat he is my best scientist,
Mein
Fuhrer,’ said Reinhardt quickly. ‘This whole project – like so many others carried out by my department before – is almost entirely his idea. Without him, there is no chance that…’