Berlin. April 12,1945. Waffen S.S. Colonel Hans Gruber sat against the wall in the dank cellar and cowered in a near fetal position as the thunderous sounds of the Russian artillery shells exploded up above. The impact from the blasts caused a shower of debris to rain down on him. His black cap and uniform had a heavy coating of white dust that was falling from the ceiling. With the sound of each explosion the 40 year old, blond haired, blue eyed officer wondered when the next one would go off on top of his head and wipe out his life.Looking across the cellar floor, littered with fallen bricks and shards of lumber, was a small kerosene lantern that provided a flickering light for the room. Sitting on a small wooden stool at the opposite side of the cellar was a most unusual person that Hans came to see. A mysterious male figure dressed in dark attire. His black pants were tucked into his black knee high boots. He wore a matching black shirt and necktie under his black hooded cape. He was sitting with his arms crossed against his chest. Between the shadows in the cellar and the hood Hans could not see the features of this man’s face. All he knew about this man was what he heard through rumors and stories that he picked up in various beer halls and curio shops throughout Germany. Now after following several leads Hans had found this mysterious figure that he was hoping would be able to help him survive the fall of Nazi Germany. This person was known as the Sandman.Another loud boom went off over Hans’ head, causing his already trembling body to jump. Another shower of dust and debris dropped down on his head. He looked over to the Sandman, who was sitting calm and quiet. As if studying Hans. “You seem to be quite composed under the circumstances,” Hans said to him.“The way I see it why get upset because of what’s going on upstairs,” replied the Sandman. “I’m just relaxing here while enjoying the show.”Hans was confused. “Show? What show are you talking about?”“You,” the Sandman replied.“Me?”“Sure. I mean, just look at you. Four years ago you Nazis were at the top of the food chain in Europe. And now today here you are hiding in a cellar, just barely able to control your own bowel movements when you hear a shell exploding.”Hans was insulted by the Sandman’s observation. “Are you implying that a soldier of the Reich is a coward in the face of the enemy?” he snarled.“Sorry. My mistake. You’re obviously hiding here to lure the Russians into a false sense of security. When are you gonna spring your trap? Is that the same trap that you guys sprung at Stalingrad, France, North Africa?”Hans was now humbled by the Sandman’s question. Facing the truth, he had only one answer to give. “I’m not here to fight. I’m here because I understand that you can help me escape.”“Escape? Ah. Another rat jumping ship.”Hans was insulted again. But ignored the remark. “I heard through certain circles that you have special talents to help people get what they want. I followed several leads around Berlin in order to find you here in this tavern.”The sound and impact of two exploding shells from up above were heard and felt. The entire cellar shook. Hans’ body jumped. He trembled as he continued, “I was skeptical about what I heard you can do. But I decided to come see for myself.”“Yeah,” The Sandman replied. “When we first met upstairs I noticed that look on your face.”“What look?”“The, he’s a fake, look. I’ve seen it before.”“You claim to grant any wish in exchange for a dream. That sounds highly far fetched.”Another boom from a shell went off. More dust and debris rained down onto Hans’ head.“I trade dreams and nightmares for wishes,” the Sandman corrected.“Dreams. Nightmares. What’s the difference?” Hans asked.“If you go to sleep and see yourself walking across a field with several bunnys hopping around, that’s a dream. Now if you should see those bunnys pull out machine guns and start shooting at you, then that’s a nightmare. Are you following me?”“Sounds like fanciful nonsense from a carnival fortune teller,” Hans charged.The Sandman’s hooded head returned a nod. “I can understand your skepticism. But then again, here you are. Sitting in a dark cellar while artillery shells are going off over your head. You should be out fighting with your troops.”“Fighting? It’s hopeless!” Hans shouted. “The Russians have us outnumbered twenty to one. They have us completely cut off and encircled by massive armies of troops and tanks. I’ve seen men next to me get cut down. I’ve watched hordes of Russian troops run up to men and slice them to ribbons with their bayonets. You don’t know what it’s like up there.”“I should have read the brochures before I came here. So you’re not one of those airheads that are still confident that victory is just around the corner? You’re going to re-group and throw the inferior enemy back. The enemy forces will collapse any time. Yadda, yadda, yadda.”“Yadda. yadda, yadda?”“So you want out?” asked the Sandman.Another shell exploded from above. Hans nodded his head as rapidly as his heart was beating. “Yes, yes. I want you to get me out of here. Out of Berlin. Out of Germany. Out of this war altogether.”“I can do that,” replied the Sandman. “But you know how I work. What can you give me as payment?”This charlatan wants a dream? Hans thought. I’ve got one for him. “I keep having this same damn dream every time I sleep. Night after night. It just won’t go away. It’s so damn vivid. When I close my eyes and nod off it grips me and takes over my mind in seconds. It’s the most-”“Can you spare me the critic’s review and get on with it?” the Sandman grumbled.“Alright,” said Hans. “In this dream I see the faces of these wretches. Wretches dressed in grey rags from head to foot. Men, women, children. They’re all looking at me from behind a barbed wire fence. There’s hundreds of them. All staring at me with their huge dark eyes. I want to run. But for some reason I’m compelled to go closer to the fence. And when I get close to the fence I shout at them to go back where they came from. To get out of my sight. Then they all reach for me. Dozens of these skeletal hands reaching through the barbed wire to grab me and pull me in. I can hear myself screaming as I’m being pressed against the barbed wired. They’re pulling me in. The barb wire rips at my clothes. Tears the skin away from my face. Then I find myself being buried under a mob of these wretched creatures as their filthy hands all reach for me. After that I wake up screaming. I always wake up screaming.”“I’m glad I don’t have you as a room mate,” the Sandman told Hans. “A pretty decent nightmare. And it sounds like it stems from some sort of guilt complex.”“Guilt complex?”“You were commandant of the camp in Strasselborg. You were charged with processing and eliminating hundreds of these wretches, as you call them, when they came in. Taking their valuables. Money, clothes, jewels, gold teeth. Then separating the ones who will live, at least for a while, from the ones who would be marched off right to the gas chambers. And let’s not forget the medical experiments that you ordered. Quite a few of your test subjects didn’t survive. Yeah. You’ve been quite a busy man at Strasselborg. Maybe that’s why the Russians are so eager to get their hands on you. They’re got a fresh length of rope and a noose with your name on it.”“And that is why I’ve got to get out of here,” Hans bellowed against the sound of another explosion from above.“I want to get as far away from this damn war as possible.”“I can get you out. But you know that even after the war they’re still gonna come for you,” the Sandman told Hans.For a moment Hans said nothing. He knew that the Sandman was speaking the truth. Between all of the Allied forces now caving in on Germany he knew that no matter how far he ran he would eventually be caught. And for his extensive war crimes his execution would be inevitable. But he still had to try and find some means of escape. A means where even all the allied forces combined could not break through. Then the magical solution came to Hans. “You can grant me any wish in exchange for my dream? Fine. I want to go back in time.”“Excuse me? What?”“You heard me. If you have the power, like you say, then I want to go back in time. Past this war. Far past. Where no one can find me. That is, unless you can’t do it.”The Sandman leaned forward, placing his gloved hands on his knees. “Oh, it’s doable. A bit complicated. But doable. I’ll have to tweak a few things here. Tweak a few things there.”“Tweak?”“But first let me give you my opinion. This is a really stupid idea.”More explosions were going off from above. A large beam of lumber fell down from the ceiling. Hans felt as though the entire ceiling were about to finally cave in on top of his head. Another explosion went off. Then another. And another. Fearful of his life Hans buried his face into his hands and waited to die either by being crushed under the rubble of this building or blown apart by the next Russian shell. He cursed himself for following the fanciful idea of coming here and talking to a carnival charlatan who claims to be able to grant wishes. I’ve trapped myself here! I was so damn stupid! Hans scolded himself. I did the Russian’s work for them. I’ve trapped myself! I’m trapped!Then the sounds of the explosions faded in his ears. Hans looked up. To his astonishment he was no longer sitting on the floor of the dark cellar. He was now sitting in the middle of a dirt field in broad daylight. He was amazed as he turned and looked about at his new surroundings. He was surrounded by several small round huts with thatch roofs. In front of one hut he saw several men and women sitting around a large fire as they watched an animal that Hans could not identify being cooked on a pit over the flames. Dressed in their ragged, dark dresses the women stood and pointed at Hans while having wide eyed and gaping mouthed expressions of fear on their faces. The men, dressed in their dark tunics and their pants tucked into crude animal hide boots, also stood and backed away in fear. Hans noticed that other men and women near the huts around him also began to stare and point at him. Suddenly a pointing woman shouted out in a high pitched voice, “Witch! Witch!”“He’s a witch!” a man holding a pitchfork shouted as he pointed at Hans.“He’s a demon!” cried another pointing man. “He just appeared out of nowhere! He just boiled up from hell!”“Witch! Witch! Witch!” screamed another woman.Hans stood up and looked about at these primitive people and their crude dwellings. He could not yet believe what had just happened. One minute he was trapped in a cellar. The next minute he was here. Where ever here was. Then he recalled his deal that he made with the Sandman. He wanted to escape the war by going back into time. Could it be? he wondered. Am I really here in the past?More frantic people began to shout out the word, Witch, while pointing at Hans. Hans looked about and noticed that the mob was growing. Two burly men dressed in dark baggy pants tucked into their black boots, shiny breast plate armor, and chain mail hoods pushed themselves through the crowd. Both men were carrying swords strapped to their sides. For a moment they stopped to examine Hans. Then they both drew their swords from their sheaths and advanced.“Get back,” Hans warned. In own time Hans was used to being obeyed by villagers. But now in this time the situation was different. Hans had no power and authority over these people. No armed troops to back him up. He was alone in their time and at their mercy.The two armed men pointed their swords at Hans’ throat while men behind him pounced on him and grabbed his arms.“Let me go! Get your hands off me!” Hans demanded. “I am an officer of the Third Reich! You will release me at once!”The men did not comply. They continued to hold him fast while the other villagers continued to fill the air with their shouts of, Witch, and Demon. Hans tried to struggle, but he was their helpless prisoner. One of the armored men raised his sword and brought it’s hilt smashing down between Hans’ eyes. A painful impact jolted through Hans’ face and he soon lost consciousness.Hans awoke later in a dungeon cell that was twice as dank as the cellar that he was cowering in. He was stripped naked with his legs chained to the wall. But he would not be here for long. Two more burly men dressed in the armor and chain mail hoods entered the cell and unchained him so that they can drag him off to a frantic courtroom where he was commanded by the magistrate to confess his crimes as a servant of Satan. Not mentioning Hitler’s name, Hans insisted that he was no servant of the devil. His defiance did not sit well with the magistrate, who ordered Hans to be dragged off for extensive questioning for the good of his soul. Hans soon learned that extensive questioning in a witch trial meant being subjected to the most painful and gruesome tortures that a Human being could endure.Hans was put through a session with the thumb screws, a red hot iron pressed against his face, and several hours having his arms and legs stretched on the rack. After a few hours of extensive questioning Hans was eager to confess his crimes of being a servant of Satan. Again, without uttering the name of Hitler to his tormentors. Hans was hoping that his confession would put an end to his suffering and send him back to his cell. He was unaware that making his confession only served to put his worst fate into motion.Hans was dragged to the center of the village and tied to a thick wooden pole while a cheering mob of villagers watched on. Hans knew that he was in serious trouble when he watched several men pile bundles of sticks around him.Hans found the strength to panic. His horrific fate was obvious. “You can’t do this to me! I’m no witch! I’m no witch! You’ve got to listen to me!”The men continued to pile the bundles of sticks around Hans until they were up to his waist. A man in armor poured oil from a wooden bucket onto the sticks. Then another man tossed down the torch that he was carrying. The oil ignited with a faint whoosh. Then there was the sharp crackle of burning wood, soon drowned out by the mob chanting, “Burn the witch! Burn the witch!”Hans began to scream as the heat around him began to increase. Smoke from the burning wood filled his lungs. As he cried out for his life he looked at the crowd and saw a familiar figure. A man dressed in black. His black hooded cape hiding the features of his face. The Sandman. The only person that could possibly help Hans out of this fate.“Help me! Please help me!” Hans cried out in desperation.Hans’ view of the Sandman was soon obscured by the flames and they grew higher to consume him.
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