Greater Germany, City of Hamburg
Pfister's office
Pfister was standing by the window, looking out at the city. The lights were bright, the traffic was heavy, and the people were going about their lives. It was a beautiful, chaotic sight, and it was his city. "Hi! I am Hamburg SS-Sturmbannführer Wilhelm Pfister."
"SS-Gruppenführer Konrad Kraske, It's nice to meet you. I hope we can work together to make Hamburg a safer place." Kraske extended his hand, his grip firm.
"I appreciate that." Pfister gestured towards the chairs. "Please, sit down."
Pfister's office was sparsely furnished, with only a desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet. The walls were bare, and the only decoration was a picture of Hitler hanging on the wall. Pfister sat down behind his desk, and Kraske took a seat across from him. "Now, what orders does SS Deputy Reichsführer Otto Adolf Eichmann have?" Pfister asked.
"He ordered me to give you an order to investigate corruption and espionage cases. You are in charge of Hamburg, and he has high expectations of you." Kraske's voice was calm and collected, his eyes never leaving Pfister's face. "But some things can be investigated, and some things cannot be investigated."
"What can't be investigated?" Pfister's voice was sharp.
Kraske leaned forward, his eyes darkening. "Things that involve important people," he said, his voice low. "People who are untouchable."
Pfister let out a frustrated sigh. "I understand," he said, his voice resigned. "I'll do my best to investigate only the cases that can be investigated."
Kraske leaned forward, his eyes darkening. "This corrupt and degenerate man must be dealt with in prison."
"Sure." Pfister's voice was strong and clear.
Kraske leaned back, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I'm glad we understand each other," he said, his voice softer now.
"Ah, there's a Polish girl. Lily Merton, that old man's toy, knows nothing. Jews." Pfister's voice was harsh.
"She's a Jew?" Kraske's eyebrows arched.
"No, not Jewish. Her father is Jewish, but she doesn't identify as such." Pfister took a sip of tea. "By our standards, she is Jewish; by Jewish standards, she is Polish."
"That's a complicated situation." Kraske's eyes were thoughtful.
"It is." Pfister paused, then added, "I will take her back to Warsaw, let the Poles deal with her."
"No need for the Polish SS. Throw her to the Historical Revision Commission and change history." Kraske's eyes flashed with interest.
"I will." Pfister's voice was confident. "This time, there will be no witnesses, no leaks."
"Good." Kraske stood up, his face expressionless. "Fighting corruption and promoting integrity is an important task of our country's socialism."
——
March 14, 1960, Greater Germany, City of Hamburg
Lily Zofia Zaleska sat at the edge of the bed, Her head was pounding, her eyes stinging with tears. The events of the past few days flashed through her mind, and her heart ached with grief. She had lost everything—her family, her home, her life. She was a prisoner in a strange land, with no one to turn to. She buried her face in her hands and wept, her body racked with sobs.
The door opened, and Lily looked up, her eyes wide with fear.
SS-Hauptsturmführer Wilhelm Pfister stepped into the room. His eyes were cold, his face expressionless. He was a tall man, his uniform impeccable, and his boots polished to a shine. He moved with a sense of confidence and power, and the room seemed to shrink in his presence.
"Lily," he said, his voice low and menacing. "You're awake."
Lily swallowed hard, her heart pounding. Her hair had been washed out and cut into a short buzzcut, her eyes were red and puffy, her skin pale. She looked like a ghost, and the air around her seemed to be filled with a palpable sense of dread.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Pfister took a step closer, his eyes boring into hers.
"You have been chosen to serve the Reich. You will obey my orders without question." Pfister's voice was cold and unyielding, and his words sent a shiver down Lily's spine.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"You will be given a new identity, and you will live a new life." Pfister's voice was a harsh rasp, his gaze unwavering. "If you're lucky, you'll be free. Come here!"
Lily stood up, her legs shaking. She took a step towards Pfister, her heart hammering in her chest. Pfister's hands gripped her shoulders, and he leaned close, his voice a low growl. "Follow me!"
He turned and strode out of the room, and Lily followed, her steps hesitant. They walked down a long corridor, their footsteps echoing off the walls. Lily could feel the tension in the air, and her heart raced. Across the corridor, two Gestapo came over with nylon ropes in their hands.
"I will tell you something. Your lover, the old man, betrayed the Greater German Reich and the Aryan race. You were also involved in a German-Polish trade organization and aiding and abetting spies. You're more useful than that old man, and you'll be on the Historical Correction Committee."
The guards pushed Lily into a windowless room. The door slammed shut, and Lily was left alone, her thoughts racing. The room was sparsely furnished, with a metal cot and a small table. Opposite her room was Willibald Schallert's room, and at this time, there were quarreling and banging sounds. Lily pressed her ear against the door and listened.
"Damn it, what kind of shit are you talking about? Don't mess with me!" The old man's voice was shrill and full of fear. "Fuck! You are killing people and silencing them!" Then, there was no sound.
Lily's heart pounded. What was happening? The air seemed to grow colder, and a feeling of dread washed over her. She put her feet on the bed and peered through the vents in the steel prison door.
The corridor was silent, and the lights were dim. She could see the shadow of the two guards. One person pressed the old man against the open cell door, and the other person strangled the old man with a nylon rope. The old man's face was blue, and his eyes bulged. The rope tightened, and the old man's body convulsed, his feet kicking in the air. The two happened to look at each other. Lily's heart pounded, her blood turning to ice. The man's gaze was cold and empty, and Lily knew she was looking into the eyes of death itself.
After a moment, the old man's body grew still, and the guards released the rope. The old man's body slumped to the floor, his face frozen in a look of horror. Lily pulled away from the door, her heart racing. What was going on? She sat down on the bed, her mind reeling.
A sudden banging sound at the door made Lily jump. She looked up, her heart pounding.
"Stand up!" a guard shouted.
Lily scrambled to her feet, her body trembling. The door swung open, and two Gestapo officers stepped into the room, their eyes cold and their faces expressionless.
"You will be transferred to the Historical Corrections Committee," one of the officers said, his voice flat and emotionless.
"Where am I going?" Lily's voice trembled.
"You will be assigned a new name and a new life," the officer replied, his gaze never wavering. "Your past will be erased, and you will have a fresh start."
"Will I be free?" Lily asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Yes," the officer replied, his voice low and ominous. "But you will be forever marked as a criminal and a traitor to the Reich. You will live your life knowing that you have no future, and that the only way to survive is to do whatever you're told."
The officer turned and left the room, the other guard following closely behind. Lily stood in the room, her body shaking. She was trapped. She was alone. She had lost everything.
——
Pfister gestured to the guards. "Take her away. The gas chamber is waiting."
The guards grabbed Lily's arms, dragging her from the room. As they marched her down the hallway, she could hear the prisoners whispering, their voices filled with fear and confusion. The guards pulled her into the gas chamber, locking the door behind her.
"No!" Lily cried, her voice shaking. She beat her fists against the door, her desperation mounting. She could feel the air growing heavy, her lungs burning. She sank to the floor, her mind racing. This was it, the end. She could feel her consciousness slipping away, and the last thing she saw before the darkness took her was the old man's dead body, lying motionless on the floor.
——
"Ah!" Lily woke up from her sleep and fell onto the cold concrete. The door opened, and Lily's vision was blurred. "Hey! Wake up!"
Lily slowly sat up, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. Guards used batons to knock on cell doors from cell to cell. "You're lucky, get ready. You will go to the Historical Correction Committee. We have just received the latest order."
Lily's head spun, and her stomach churned. This small cell is only two square meters. The steel toilet has dried urine. A metal cot and a threadbare blanket. A small table and a chair.
"Move! Now!" a guard barked. Lily's heart raced as she stood up, her legs unsteady. She stumbled out of the cell, the light blinding her. She was surrounded by prisoners, all of them dressed in shabby clothes, their faces gaunt and haggard. They were herded down a narrow corridor, their footsteps echoing off the walls. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and fear, and Lily could feel her heart pounding in her chest.
"Move faster!" the guard shouted, his voice harsh and commanding. Lily quickened her pace, her feet moving mechanically. Her mind was racing, and her breath came in short, shallow gasps. The guard's face was a mask of cold indifference, and his eyes glittered with malice.
"You are going to be reeducated. There will be no escape. No one knows where this place is."
"Where are we going?" Lily asked, her voice trembling.
"To hell," the guard replied, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Come to this room."
The guard pointed to a room, and Lily followed the other prisoners inside. The room was large and brightly lit, with rows of desks and chairs. The prisoners were seated, and Lily took a seat near the front of the room. Another middle-aged, short, fat female guard held a stack of files and distributed them to them.
"Read these," she ordered. "Memorize the information."
Lily opened the file and saw her new name, Zofia Müller. She had a new birthday, a new hometown, and a new mother's maiden name.
"This is your new identity," the guard said, her voice harsh and commanding. "Your past has been erased. You are now a new person, and your only purpose is to serve the Reich. Your original identity will die in an accident. We will now distribute to you all the history files that need to be modified."
Lily's heart raced, her palms sweaty. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. The female guard distributed three folders of different colors, with the words destroyed, modified, and original written on them respectively.
"This is the history that needs to be destroyed," the female guard explained. "In these pages, there are names and events that need to be deleted, or altered, or even added. These files are classified, and only a few people have access to them."
"We will now begin the revision process," the guard announced. "Work quickly and accurately. Any mistakes will be severely punished."
Lily swallowed hard, her heart pounding. The weight of the task ahead of her was overwhelming. There is a large stack of text files in the original folder. The pages are old, worn, and yellowed. It was a massive undertaking.
Lily took a deep breath and began reading. The files were filled with details about the history of Germany, from the beginning of the twentieth century until the present. Lily's hands trembled as she turned the pages, her mind reeling.
The first was a dozen documents printed on inferior wartime paper and held together with pins. The first piece of paper was a notice from the Director of Division D of the SS Central Bureau of Economic Administration. The date is August 6, 1942.
'Re: Purpose of Hair
In response to the previous report, Oswald Pohl, head of the SS Central Economic Administration, issued an order requiring that hair cut from prisoners' heads must be used appropriately. Human hair can be made into industrial felt or spun into thread. The hair of female prisoners was used to weave wool socks for submariners, cold-proof socks for mountain infantry, or felt socks for railroad workers.
Therefore, you are specifically ordered not to throw away the hair of Jewish prisoners. Female prisoners' hair should be stored after being cut. The hair of male prisoners can be recycled unless the length exceeds 20 mm... The number of hair collected each month should be classified according to gender and reported to the Bureau on the 5th of each month. The reporting work began on September 5, 1942. '
The entire document was printed in Fraktur, a Gothic font that was discontinued in 1943 and 1944. At the end of the page was an instruction written in red letters in a modern font: Destroy. Lily quickly put the paper into the destruction folder.
She took a deep breath and picked up another document. This is a letter written by Himmler to Gestapo chief Heinrich Müller on November 20, 1942.
'You have promised me that the bodies of all dead Jews will be cremated or buried and nothing else will be done to them.'
This was an order issued by Himmler, the leader of the Nazis. Lily's hands trembled as she turned the page. Did they really make soap and socks out of dead bodies? At the end of this page, there is a black mark: Modification, text disinfection.
Lily put the document into the modification folder and turned the page again. These files must have been collected by the Nazis from all over the country and even Europe, and then streamlined, classified and modified. They want to change history to cover up the crime. So, what about me who is responsible for handling classified files? Will I be killed after the revision is completed?
She opened the next file and read it. This is a list of orders from Himmler and the Nazis. Lily's heart sank as she read the order, which detailed the construction of an extermination camp.