Chapter Nine Hundred Sixteen
17th August 1951
Langeoog Island
It had been the perfect week. The house had been made available to all of them while Kat and Doug were in Canada. Ilse had come with Kris, Anne and Leni.
Now that the brief holiday was winding down and tomorrow they would get to go back and resume their lives. Ilse was sitting on the porch watching the waves as the washed into the shore as the sun was setting. Kat had insisted that the new house had a deeper porch overlooking the North Sea. It was easy to see why she had wanted that. There was a great deal of clarity to be found here and Ilse found that she needed it. The letters she had been receiving. From Finland, Sweden, Russia and now Canada, the same blight was being found all over the Northern Hemisphere. When she had sent her findings off for review by the head of the Department the researchers he had farmed it out to had gotten the same results. Then they had gone one step further, it had been hypothesized about the source. That the sulfuric acid was identical to that found in coal smoke and had even gone so far as to identify the likely source of the coal in question.
It was a detail that Ilse had suspected but had avoided bringing it up because she was aware of the implications. Factories, powerplants commerce and industry. The very foundations of the modern state not to mention millions of people’s livelihoods were all bound up in this matter. Once they had the results, what would they do with them? Go into the Reichstag and tell them that the entire country was doing something wrong and they needed to find some other way of doing things? She was quite certain how that would go. Badly.
Yellowknife, Northern Territories, Canada
While Manfred had been unable to indulge in hunting while in the far north, it seemed that he was there in the wrong season if he wanted some of the things that were in high demand. When he had asked what that meant he had been shown dozens of pelts from Arctic foxes, white and silver. As he had looked at them Manfred knew that he was looking at potentially thousands of Marks in Berlin. Here, they were only worth the three rifles and thousand rounds of ammunition he had traded for them. Oddly the men he had bought them from thought they were getting the better part of the deal. Unfortunately, that led straight to the less comfortable conversation latter that night. What he had in mind for those pelts would be surprise for Käte, Helene, Sonje and Caecilia when he got home.
However, talking to the Inuit Chiefs had been instructive. There Manfred was able to talk hunting with men who lived and breathed it for survival. He found that there was a purity in that. Of course, all they wanted to talk about were his children. Yes, he had three daughters, a son, and two grandchildren. They had understood perfectly the idea that he had lost his oldest to drink, that apparently happened quite a bit there. The topic eventually had turned to his own land in Silesia, his forestry practices, the management of the deer and ongoing issues with feral swine. They had found all of that amusing and Manfred had not understood why until he had realized that compared to the Arctic, his estate was an embarrassment of riches.
That was when things took the uncomfortable turn. They had started talking about the recent actions of the Canadian Government and Manfred was perfectly appalled. Sure, he could understand why people might gather in towns and cities if that were their choice…
“Give me one good reason not to put a bullet through your head” A voice growled at Manfred snapping his thoughts back to the present.
Yellowknife had been something completely different. Boom town, mining camp and military outpost. It was exactly what people thought of when they thought of the American West. Even if it happened to be in Canada.
“I would be a shame to mess this establishment up” Manfred said mildly as he noticed the bartender's unsurprised reaction. Apparently, there had been other messes needing to be cleaned up in the past. “I doubt that is what you will do though Captain Barker.”
Originally from Manitoba it made perfect sense that when the Commanders of the RCAF would send Group Captain William Barker out here to dry out when his colorful antics became too much for them. The greatest living Canadian Ace and a highly decorated Officer couldn’t exactly be turned out easily. Manfred had managed to avoid him on the trip north, his luck hadn’t held this time.
“Still sore about what I did to your Squadron in the First World War I see” Manfred said, “There have been a few wars since then. Even so, that one stands out.”
Barker sat down and was tapping his finger on the tabletop while giving Manfred a dirty look.
“You have any idea the number of my friends you and your mates killed?” Barker asked.
“Like if you weren’t doing the same every time you got the chance?” Manfred asked, “I read your biography, you and friend were planning on shooting up my airfield and then wishing us a happy Christmas. Just the war ended before you could do that.”
“You heard about that?” Barker asked.
“Yes.”
“It would have been glorious.”
Manfred just couldn’t believe this. The war had been over for decades and this man was still fighting it.
“No, it wouldn’t have” Manfred snapped, “You and your friend would have been spotted crossing the front lines. If JG-1 didn’t intercept you, then antiaircraft batteries we had covering the field would have.”
“You sound just like my Commanding Officers back then.”
“They were probably talking sense, one or two planes taking on an entire fighter wing results in a very dead pilot.”
“I could have managed” Barker growled as a drink was poured for him.
It wasn’t the first time that Manfred had encountered this. In a couple hours, he would be Barker’s long-lost best friend. Hopefully, Barker would pass out before he started demanding that they settle this once and for all with a fist fight out on the street. He hated it when that happened.
