Christmas 1944

61 0 0
                                    

The reality of the defeat of the struggling Nazi Germany and the Third Reich to the Dresden was as small as the distant thunder. Even though many Eastern refugees running from the attack by the Soviet Union had occupied the whole street, there was not much of the difference seen in the beautiful city known as "the City of a Hundred Spires", well known as the Florence on the Elbe. Despite the freezing cold, the dimming light due to the restriction of the electrical power, the street instilled with classic beauty of the Baroque continued to bring out its magnificence of the Christmas Eve.

In a corner of an old street area, there stood a church which seemed older than its surrounding.

Although this church was regarded as the annex building of the symbol of the city, "Dresdner Frauenkirche", the fact could not be verified due to the loss of detailed information. From the architectural point of view, some scholars had suggested that the building existed since the previous era of " Mater Ecclesiae".

Basically, to respect to those who came here on this holy night, what they needed was a place to attend the Mass will do. The history of the church did not matter.

No matter who they were their family who gone out and were killed in the war is no longer just rumours. The supplies rationed were inadequate and deteriorating. This included the flimsy paper used for newspaper, most importantly was the allied planes dropping bombs as they whistled overhead, it was difficult not to be made aware of the... impending defeat.

Hence, one could not help but to pray. Full of sincerity.

Hence, one could not help but to sing. Full of pleading.

On this day when one was still alive, people dedicated their wish along with the songs to god.

There were two men sitting face to face beside a table in a small shed where the singings were heard vaguely.

A researcher wearing a white coat was carving on the wood pieces carefully, his name was Adolf K. Weismann and...

"Yes... Berlin was no longer counting on us for our research. When things came to this stage, they were too much to send us to somewhere else even though it was better than disbanding the team or to terminate the research."

"The aim of this research project was good but so far it was not yielding any decent result. It can't be helped. If this was what the Command had decided. Nevertheless, we had done our best in the field."

Another man who was holding a similar wooden piece carving randomly with a dagger was Kokujouji Daikaku, he was also the lieutenant of the Japanese army.

Kokujouji just returned from his monthly reporting to the Berlin Empire as the representative despatched jointly by the Deutsche Bundesbank and the Empire of Japan. None of the intelligence he brought back was good news. There was no coming back in current situation. Saying things like they would do their best reflected his anxiety and his shame.

(Now the situation would not allow us to continue our research leisurely... although the president had issued a command for us to remain the status quo, the in practical term, they had already abandoned the research.)

The young military officer who uttered these with a serious expression was ignored by Weismann with a smile.

"Of course, even if you don't say so, we will be good and we will work hard, to do what we have to do."

"Be good... and work hard... right?"

Kokujouji ran out of energy in carving upon hearing such casual response and glanced around his surroundings.

This was a research facility directly under the (political) commanding party hidden in the underground of the church. Even though the area was more than twice larger than the church above, and there were two floors of huge area made of stone set up, this was not newly built for research, but it was originally meant for the believers to walk without light to the grand hall to pay homage to the holy relic.

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: Dec 01, 2015 ⏰

Add this story to your Library to get notified about new parts!

K Premium Short Stories Collection - Christmas 1944 by GoRA BlackWhere stories live. Discover now