Thomas Greanias - The 34th Degree

“But the First Panzer Division is in France!” von Berg protested. “You’re going to pull a complete panzer division out of the war and transport it all the way across Europe to Greece?”

“The First German Panzer Division will establish its headquarters at the Greek town of Tripolis,” Hitler went on sharply, ignoring von Berg. “It is ideally situated in the Peloponnese to command resistance against any Allied landings at Kalamata and Araxos. Now, all of you, leave me. I need a few minutes with General von Berg and the Reichsfuhrer.”

They all left the room-Jodl, Doenitz, and, finally, Canaris. When they were gone, Hitler glared at von Berg.

“It is enough that my political and military intelligence services are at odds; that much I expected. But dissension within the SS? Von Berg, I asked you for a simple text, and you bring me this-this obvious forgery.” He looked at the report and gave it to Himmler. “Montgomery’s handwriting, indeed. How much of a fool do they think I am?”

“Clearly, the Baron was premature in introducing this analysis without my approval,” said Himmler. “My staff shall look into the report more thoroughly before making any formal recommendations.”

Von Berg knew that would be the last he would ever see of the report. He also knew that Hitler’s hunch about Greece had less to do with General Jodl’s cool logic than with his own heated passion about the Maranatha text.

“Tell me what happened in Greece,” said Hitler. “The Reichsfuhrer, for some reason, thought you may not appear here at all.”

Von Berg glanced at Himmler, still lacking color, as well he should. The bastard probably had a communique in his pocket ready to produce at the right moment, informing Hitler that his favorite underling had been killed in Greece by mad monks. Nevertheless, von Berg would not reveal that he had actually obtained the Maranatha text. Who knew where that would send Hitler?

“A tragedy. That’s what it was,” von Berg said. “Those religious fanatics burned themselves and gutted the entire monastery in the process.”

Hitler asked, “And the Maranatha text?”

“Not to be found.” Von Berg looked at Himmler. “Unfortunately, Reichsfuhrer, we also lost Colonel Ulrich. Were it not for him, I wouldn’t be standing here before you.”

“Nonsense, you have good luck,” insisted Hitler. “Even when surrounded by fools, fate spared you now, as it has before. You were failed by your protectors, just as I am.”

He was referring to rumors and recent attempts on his life. Von Berg, however, not wishing to provoke Himmler just yet, spoke in Ulrich’s defense. “To the contrary, my Fuhrer, I recommend a Knight’s Cross for the Standartenfuhrer, awarded posthumously. His actions were most noble. Tragic he should die at the hands of religious fanatics, but it was not in vain.”

He snapped his fingers, and two SS orderlies walked in with a heavy object draped with a white cloth. “A gift for the Fuhrer. From the Monastery of the Taborian Light in Meteora.”

The orderlies snapped the canvas away to reveal the great golden Templar Globe.

Hitler stood back, surprised and awed. He walked over and closely examined it, a bit fearful. “Striking,” said the Fuhrer. “This was taken from the Zu den drei Weltkugeln?”

“From the Lodge of the Three Globes, yes,” the Baron replied. “But it is far older than old Prussian Freemasonry. The monks in Greece believe it is one of three globes that once graced King Solomon’s Temple. Would you like it kept here or stored with the other icons?”

Hitler didn’t answer; he simply stared at the globe. “This is what I saw in my dreams. I am sure of it. Another sign, Reichsfuhrer.”

Von Berg was wary of whatever bizarre new tangent the Fuhrer was embarking on. Hitler’s physician, Dr. Karl Brandt, attributed his constant fatigue to stress. Von Berg would not have been so generous with his diagnosis. It was at Brandt’s urgings that Hitler set up his headquarters at Obersalzberg in March in the first place, allegedly for a three-month vacation. Now overwork and isolation had made him more exhausted and irritable than ever. This, more than anything, thought von Berg, would explain the fascination with miracle texts and a search for some divine deliverance.

“A sign?” von Berg repeated. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Come, I’ll tell you as we stroll to the Eagle’s Nest,” Hitler told him. “I have a surprise waiting for you there-Professor Xaptz.”

“Professor Xaptz?”

“A specialist in ancient Greek literature that the Reichsfuhrer has found. He has solved the riddle of the Maranatha text.”

P rofessor Xaptz was a small man with round spectacles and dubious credentials. He had been recommended to Himmler by one of Hitler’s most despicable and corrupt supporters from the old days, a fanatical Jew-hater named Julius Streicher. The professor’s high-pitched, nervous laugh rose above the clatter of teacups, coffee, and assorted cakes now being served in Hitler’s teahouse, a twenty-minute walk from the Berghof and perched on one of Hitler’s favorite lookout points over the Berchtesgaden Valley.

A few minutes later, after Hitler, Himmler, and Baron von Berg had settled into their easy chairs around the coffee table, Professor Xaptz began:

“As you know, I have been charged by the Reichsfuhrer with unearthing and protecting the ancient history of our Aryan civilization. This mission has taken me to the ends of the earth, even Antarctica, where General von Berg established a submarine ice base for the Reich.”

Von Berg flinched at the mention of Antarctica, seething once again at the memory of the ridiculous expedition that had cost him two crew members and several months of his life.

Professor Xaptz was part of a team of archaeologists and “scholars” that Himmler had sent to Antarctica to prove Hitler’s master race theory, specifically the fantastical idea that the Nazis descended from the First Race-the mythological Atlanteans. They and their doomed city were first described in the fourth century B.C. by the ancient Greek philosopher Plato, who himself allegedly relied on source material dating well before the ancient Egyptians.

It was all pure fiction, of course, but the money, manpower, and military support that were being diverted from the war were not.

Yet, despite the Nazi occupation of Greece and access to all the pre-Greek Minoan ruins he could ask for, Professor Xaptz had not been able to show any hard evidence to support his wild speculations. So it didn’t surprise von Berg that Xaptz would resort to turning the Fuhrer’s attention to Antarctica, where any ruins would be impossible to find, much less unearthed two miles beneath the ice, but which was as fertile ground as any for wild speculation and pseudoscience.

Von Berg had been forced to lay claim to the entire ice continent for the Reich by establishing a secret submarine base in East Antarctica, from which Xaptz and his ilk “worked” for three weeks. The only good that came of it for von Berg was an ideal locale to stash some of the army’s unstable biotoxins so that they could not infect and destroy Germany before the Allies even landed.

Meanwhile, Xaptz had creatively established the idea of a “chain of knowledge” from the Atlanteans to the Nazi SS. This chain started with the Atlanteans and moved on to the Minoans, Egyptians, Greeks, Knights Templar, and Freemasons-all of them clay vessels to hold the enlightened knowledge of Atlantis. At the end of this line-beyond the 33rd Degree of the Masons-lay the knowledge of “First Time,” which in turn contained secrets of the “end times” upon which rested Hitler’s vision of a Thousand-Year Reich.