Das Fever of Dachau

Wayne looked at the positive Covid-19 test result as he lay down in his bed. He had felt horrible for several days starting with a backache. He found it hard to believe, a year ago a severe concussion injury than a broken limb, now Covid.

The worse was to come as he fell asleep. He had never felt so cold in all his life. He had lived high in the Alaskan frontier and northern Canada and never felt so chilled. No matter how many blankets he put on, he felt like he was frozen. Finally, he felt God was merciful and permitted him to fall asleep or pass out.

Hours later though, he was awakened, or was he? He did not know if it was a feverish dream or not but his eyes opened, through his blurry vision, he saw a dirty-looking teenage male. He tried to close his eyes, he could feel a heavy sweat across his entire body and it seemed to be steaming hot.

His eyes seemed to open on their own and this teen was still there and appeared to be wearing wore some sort of military attire. He smelt of sweat and smoke and a sense of death lingered about him. His hands and face had dried blood on them and all sense of humanity appeared gone.

Was this the Covid-19 nightmares he had heard of online and on the news? This teen suddenly began to shake Wayne, trying to get him fully awake. Wayne did not know if this was a Covid dream or was he descending to the bowels of hell.

Wayne felt the sweat dripping into his eyes as the young man pulled him up, "What the .." he started to say in a pitful protest.

"No, not back to sleep. I've waited SEVENTY YEARS or more, wake up!" said the young man in a European accent. "We have much to do in so little time!"

Wayne felt the young man pull him towards the desk in his small room. "Is this a dream, too many painkillers, the fever?" Wayne thought to himself as he felt himself fall into the office chair, Wayne tried to focus on the camouflage dirty jacket and could make out a set of lightning bolt "S"s on the edge of the collar.

"I will send you into my story; you tell it but quickly. My time is almost gone," the young man said quickly. A moment later the teen's right hand hovered near the forehead of Wayne. His fingers seemed to slide into the forehead like a hot knife moving through butter.

Wayne's head began to swirl, his brain seemed to fog over as all colour seemed to disappear; a moment later, his fingers were typing on the keyboard, and reality was all but gone. Wayne could hear the sounds of heavy equipment, airplanes and many moving feet. Wayne tried to look around but his eyes would not leave the screen, his hands danced like a musician along the keyboard as he heard the sound of a door creaking open,

The guard directed the teenager into the room. A large wooded table sat in the middle of the room and an old desk was behind it over to the left. A small window was at the far end of the room where a few odd chairs sat. At the desk were a dark-haired female military clerk with a large typewriter and a large metal filing cabinet next to her. At the table, there were three chairs, two on one side of the table and a single chair facing away from the desk on the other side of the table.

The guard directed him with his club to where the single chair sat. The guard moved back behind the teen about a meter almost leaning against the wall. The guard stood stone-faced with one hand on his sidearm and the other near a club attached to his belt. The teenage soldier sat in the chair, not quite knowing what to expect; his mind raced through the last few weeks as he waited for whoever was to arrive. He fully expected to be shot or hung at any moment and did not know what they hoped to learn from him.

He could not see the guard move but could hear him coming to attention for a moment. A moment later he could see an American captain and British officer of some higher rank pass by him. The British Officer light a cigarette before leaning against the far wall, a moment later he pulled a chair from the other side of the room over to this position. The captain sat in one of the two chairs across from him he placed several files onto the desk. He shuffled the files for several moments checking his watch at one point without saying a word. A moment later he appeared to settle a smaller file and began to study it. A younger American officer came into the room a moment later and moved loudly compared to the others. His uniform looked nearly brand new, and he also carried a legal notepad and a file with him.

As he sat down, he looked at the captain, “Captain Lewis, a pleasure to see you so soon again.” The officer looked at the British officer leaning on the wall with his right foot upon the chair, “We have an audience today?”

Captain Lewis appeared almost annoyed at seeing this young officer and he did not try to hide this from anyone in the room. “This is Major Montgomery is connected to MI5; he is very interested in the events surrounding the capture of Dachau.”

“What a load of horse….” The young officer said before the captain loudly interrupted him.

“Lieutenant Rogers, we have a job to do. Let’s get to it.” The captain said in a loud commanding tone. He once again looked at his watch, he wrote something on the edge of the file. The captain turned toward the woman at the typewriter, “We shall begin, time, 0731 May 8th 1945”

“Sprichst du Deutsch?” said the lieutenant toward the man across the table from him.

The major coughed on his cigarette as the captain looked like he might burst out in laughter.

“Of course, he does. He was in the German military machine.” Said the captain.

The young man sitting there uncomfortable replied, “ Ja, Albert Jagr, 6345634 , SS-Sturmmann, dem KZ Dachau zugeteilt am 1. Februar 1945.”

The captain looked at the file for a moment.....

Author's note

You have read Chapter One of "Das Fever of Dachau" I look forward to your comments, suggestions and more. Please feel free to subscribe so you do not miss the other chapters of this original short novel.

Before judging the contents of this novel please read the entire book. The Covid 19 Fever that inspired this novel was very real.

Thank you - Bruce Curle 2022