Hare - A Pious Killing

The black Mercedes was the only vehicle in motion on the streets of Gerona at the early hour of 5:30am. The driver wore the distinctive uniform of the civil guard. The male passenger in the back listened to the zip of the tyres on the dampened streets. He was also in uniform, but it was not of the same nationality as that of the driver. He absent-mindedly stroked the Iron Cross garlanded with oak leaves that was pinned to the breast of his uniform jacket.

As they crossed Rio Onyar and entered the old city, the passenger glanced at the leather bag beside him on the seat. He tapped it gently, reassuringly. Then he sat back and spent some moments in forethought, rehearsing the task he was being driven to perform.

He was tall with the build of an athlete, which, in fact, he had been in his college days. But his well-toned physique owed more to his upbringing on the family farm where physical labour had been a part of daily life from an early age. His well-tanned face below his well-groomed, dark brown hair was further evidence of his preference for the outdoors, although his wire-rimmed spectacles invested the face with a scholarly look.

Having expertly navigated the large saloon through the narrow streets, the driver gently slid the car to a halt and racked the handbrake into lock. They were positioned outside Hotel Catalanes, the Mercedes completely blocking the narrow thoroughfare.

Remember who you are, the driver said in English. He turned to face his passenger. His deep Iberian tones rang a note of seriousness into the exchange. You have a maximum time limit of fifteen minutes to complete this task. You should not be disturbed, but if you remain too long, our subsequent movements could be curtailed.

I will carry out the agreed plan. If I am unsuccessful after fifteen minutes I will abort, if at all possible," replied the passenger in heavily accented Castilian.

If I have to move the car, go directly to Plaza de la Independiencia. I will be there.

Understood!

Remember, emphasised the driver, They are expecting you. They expect you to be who you are and they expect you to do what you are going to do. As long as you maintain your identity no one will oppose you. In fact they should assist you. You are Dr Bauer of the Army Medical Corps. You are replacing your colleague, Dr Brandt and you are here to administer the Generals medicine.

Understood, repeated the passenger.

He stepped out of the car and placed his bag beside him on the flagstones. He stood erect and straightened the sleeves of his German Army uniform. He placed his hat firmly upon his head and stooped to pick up his bag. Grasping its soft leather handle in his hand, he strode confidently into the hotel.

His first sweep of the lobby informed him that it was full of men in SS uniforms. A rich cloud of tobacco smoke hovered below the ceiling. He strode up to the desk. He was about to strike the bell when a voice spoke from behind him in German.

Herr Lieutenant! What brings you here at this hour? How can I help you?

Although no reaction was visible from behind, Dr Bauers face froze in fear for an imperceptible moment. But he turned to show a smiling, blue-eyed confidence to the Wermacht officer facing him.

Good morning, Herr Captain. Heil Hitler!

Heil Hitler! came the automatic response.

Dr. Bauers German was flawless and bore the authentic hint of a Berlin accent, I am here to administer General Zeigers medicine.

How so? enquired the Captain. I have not seen you here before.

That is quite correct. My name is Dr Bauer and I am replacing my colleague Dr Brandt who has been given compassionate leave. His wife is unwell.

Captain Vogts was a cautious man and the Generals well-being was his prime concern in life. However, faced with the relaxed demeanour of the German doctor before him and his easy explanation for the substitution, he found himself asking for the doctors papers almost apologetically. Training and habit, however, made him scrutinise them carefully.

It says here you were born in Cologne . I thought I detected a Berlin accent.

You are very astute, Herr Captain. After the last war my father moved us around Germany in search of work. He refused on principle to work for a Jew. As you know, in the Weimar Republic that was not an easy principle to hold. Eventually we settled near Berlin and then I studied medicine there for seven years.

The Captain smiled without comment. The lift whirred to a halt and the Captain pulled the gates open.

Come, he said, Lets see the General. This diabetes is a damned nuisance to him. The Fuehrer values our General so highly that he permits these respite visits to Spain . General Franco is pleased to allow these unofficial rehabilitation visits. Of course, he must keep a diplomatic distance in order not to anger the Allies. Spain is full of English and American spies. But we need our General back in action for the good of the Fatherland. He is on course to completely break the French Resistance. The French call him The Scourge. He has broken more of their cells than anyone else and his policy of reprisals against civilians is destroying their support.

The doctor followed along the marble corridor and stopped alongside the Captain at the door to the Generals suite. He smiled reassuringly. I will treat your General to the utmost of my ability.

As the captain studied his face in close eye-to-eye contact the doctor thought, I will remember this face until my dying day. Which means, of course, you will remember mine.

They entered an outer reception area of the Generals suite and the Captain went on alone into the Generals private quarters.

The doctor glanced at his watch. Six minutes had passed. There was no way he could complete now within fifteen minutes. If he was going to abort, he should do it now. However, the plan to abort depended upon his being able to do so without endangering himself. His situation now meant that there was no option but to proceed. He had no choice. He would proceed. No matter how long it took. No one would get this close again.

The door to the bedroom opened and the Captain beckoned him in. The General sat up in bed. He was in excellent physical shape from the evidence of his muscular torso. However, he seemed drowsy and was obviously in need of his medication and quickly.

Heil Hitler, Herr General, the doctor said formally.

Heil Hitler, Lieutenant Doctor. I am sorry to hear of Dr. Brandts misfortune. Please pass him my condolences. Now, come on! Get me fit. There is a war to be won. Ordinary people all over the world are praying for us to win. They cant wait to be liberated from international Jewry. They long to be free of their corrupt democratic governments. They crave the success of the Third Reich to free them from their oppressors. Let us get about our great crusade.

The Generals laugh was full of simple jollity as if he was planning victory in a football match. The doctor went to a table by the window, set his case down and snapped it open. As he did he heard the angry sound of a car horn from the street below. Glancing out of the window he saw his car reluctantly pull away to clear the street for the oncoming truck.

Is there a problem, Herr Lieutenant?

It was the captain at his elbow. The doctor turned to face him.

No, none at all. Perhaps you will get some water. The General will enjoy a drink after his injection.

The captain retired to the bathroom.

Now General, the doctor said, Please relax . You will soon feel on top form again. I will give you your medicine and then I suggest you sleep some more. One hour, maybe two.

Whatever you say, Herr Doctor. This illness has taught me the importance of taking medical advice.