Chapter 12: A helping hoof
The next Morning, Dinky had slept well. Max offered her to sleep with him which she didn’t refuse.
She trotted to the bottom floor until she heard sobbing. She followed it into the archive. She saw a woman. “Is something wrong?” Dinky asked innocently.
The woman stopped her sobbing. “Oh, I’m sorry, it’s just… My wedding ring. It’s gone. I’m always so clumsy. I lost it when we got back. It’s not worth much, but it’s all I have left from him. My dear Sebastian.” It reminded Dinky so much of her mother as the bullies at school always called her being clumsy. So she searched the ring.
She found it at the toilet on the upper floor. She lifted the ring with her Magic up and trotted back to the archive. “Here, I found it.” Anne looked up.
“Oh, my lord. You…found it. Thank you.” She hugged Dinky with tears of Joy.
“I always help where I can.” Dinky smiled.
“You’re a good filly, Dinky.”
Dinky leaved to the hanger bay. She saw how Wyatt worked at one of the helicopters. “Can I help you Wyatt? I always helped my daddy at such things.”
“Sure. Can you give me that screwdriver?”
“No problem.” She lifted the screwdriver over to him.
"Thank you, Dinky.”
“These are the helicopters that are silent, right?” She looked at them with great interest.
"That’s right kid. Silently and invisible for the Radar. I must admit that they are a fine piece of German engineering. And they have no cable inside. I must say it is fascinating.” Dinky knew from Project Whisper as Johann had told her once about it.
After she helped Wyatt, she looked after Anya. “How’s it going, Dinky?”
“My hoof is getting better. Can I ask how Blazkowicz have got his scar?”
“He got it from an explosion. He was 14 years in the insane asylum that was leaded by my parents, before the regime closed it. He saved my life back there and I am very grateful. Four inches of cast iron shrapnel right in the conk. Still in there. The removal would make it worse.”
“Ouch. That must have hurt.” Dinky did not want to imagine how much that must hurt.
“You know Dinky, before the war, I was at the University of London. I wanted to make a doctorate in archaeology. But as the war started, I had to go back home. I was only 16. But for the University I learned from my parents how to use a typewriter. If you want I could teach it you.”
“Yes please.”
Caroline joined them, after Dinky learned and practiced on the typewriter. “Hello, Dinky."
“Hello, Caroline. I’m sorry about your legs.”
“Don’t be Dinky. I have three pulverized vertebrae, a severed colon and a shattered pelvis but that doesn’t stop me from leading the Kreisau Circle.”
That must even hurt more. Dinky thought before she saw two letters on a bed. “Caroline, do you know to whom these letters belong?” Caroline had a sad expression.
“Bobby Bram. He was the one who caused the explosion at the London Nautica. He used to own a baker shop in South East London. During the Blitz, the baker shop was hit by a German bomb, but fortunately Bobby was out on an errand that day. The next week, Bobby was drafted into the Army. He kissed his wife Charlotte goodbye and was shipped out to the continent. Years later, he would visit her grave in Regime-occupied London.
You can read his letters if you want.” Dinky felt sorry for him. Still, she read his letter that was addressed to his wife.
Charlotte
do you remember the red cat?
how it begged by our window and how you fed it shrimps?
or the snail on the porch, who fell down the table into your knee?
do you remember the sunny side of Primrose Hill,
the broken glass of Clapham Pride and the nursery school,
the one you said our politicians killed?
do you remember how your smile turned into tears?
how you flew and flew into my arms
and laughed and kissed music into my ears?
do you remember how your anger turned into fear?
how you listened and listened to talks and talks
and how all the promises disappeared?
do you remember the red cat?
how it craved and how it came back every day?
(I think it belonged to Ms. Calloway, I'm not sure,
but it would explain why it didn't when she moved away)
do you remember Moni's smile?
how she laughed and laughed at this clownish snail?
how she ran down the slopes of Primrose Hill
and her first taste of beer and her eyes when blood appear?
or outside the playground?
tears and tears and hugs and all the hugs
and how she danced into the air?
and how I love you dear?
how I love you dear
He loved his wife with all his heart. Dinky let out a tear. It reminded her so much of her parents and Johann and Nina. Then she read Charlotte's letter.
East London
4th October, 1948
My Dear Bobby,
It's Saturday night and the bombs have barely stopped falling when I sit down to write this letter. I'm on the roof of the building where the Auxiliary
Fire Service has set up a fire station. I'm drinking a cup of coffee and smoking a cigarette and I can still here the klaxons ringing in my ear and the whistling sound the bombs make as they fall from the sky.
From up here, I can see across London. Even in its ravaged state, it's still so sordidly beautiful, isn't it? Old and rough and grimy. My home and my heart.
Thank you for your letters, my love. I can't begin to tell you how much they mean to me. I hope my reluctance to reply has not caused you worries. The reason for this is, and this may sound strange, that I don't want to write untruthfully to you. I've feared I might upset you with my words. However, the truth is better than nothing at all. Wouldn't you agree?
So this is the truth.
London is burning. Smoke plumes rise from the city, like pillars of the earth keeping the sky from crashing down. The all-night bombardments have been unrelenting and each day has been a renewed struggle to hand on to every thread of hope one can find. How can people go on in the face of such remorseless determination? Such senseless killing? I don't know, but I am thankful than they do.
I'm still covered in soot. I can feel the smoke in my lungs. They said women were not supposed to fight in the fires--just manage communications and work in mobile canteen vans and such--but things have changed. An hour ago I was in Canning Town here in East London, the catholic school, do you know it?
The school took a terrible hit during the recent bomb raid and we were there trying to put out the fire. The fire raged as if the very gates of hell had opened up.
I was holding the fire hose together with Susie Tuckfield and I saw children stumbling out of the ruins covered in blood and ashes. I heard tiny voices crying out from inside the burning school. One of my colleagues, Brittany, went in to save a little girl on the second floor, but she never came out. She was such a sweet girl.
During the last month, we have lost three of our fellow fire-fighters. All good friends of mine.
But life goes on, as it must. At night, everyone in the neighborhood goes down to a nearby bunker old William McKinley has turned into a bar.
People come there to reinvigorate themselves with drinking and singing. It's quite strange to see life continuing as if nothing has happened while the bombs are falling around us. That's Londoners for you, isn't it?
Last night, I dreamt of little Johnny again. We were together on the fairground in Brighton, where we used to go during the summer, do you remember? I was kneeling down beside him by the edge of the pier and we looked out at the sea, and you were standing behind me, and it was so blue,
Bobby. So blue, like sparkling sapphire, and calm and no one spoke or worried about the war. I held the palm of my hand against Johnny's cheek. He was eating spun sugar and laughed when a spray of water from the breaking waves hit his face. When I woke up, I could still feel the soft skin of his cheek against my palm, like a phantom sensation. I cried for a long time, Bobby. There's not a day goes by I don't think about him.
When you come home, when all this is over and we are together again--
I want us to move out to the country then, like we've always dreamt we would.
Even if we are poor now, we can make it together somehow. I truly believe that.
I must go now. I can hear the sirens. I'll post this letter on the way out.
Promise to send you more.
I miss you so much, Bobby. Come home to me.
All my love,
Charlotte
This is so horrible. But at least they are together at a better place. She let out more tears.
J looked after her. “Hey girl, do you want to hear my guitar solo?”
Looking for something to cheer herself up, Dinky replied, “Sure why not.
J played that same song he played to B.J. Dinky clapped her hoofs in applause.
“That was fantastic! You are very good!”
“Thanks kid. You’re my first fan. And I appreciate it.” Then Set told her about the Da'at Yichud. It was very interesting for her.
“Set?”
“Yes, little one?”
“I’m trying to figure out what exactly you were doing in this organization of yours? Was it some kind of supernatural engineering?”
“We don’t believe in things supernatural, little one. We believe in God. The Da’at Yichud is, is… it’s a philosophy. It is a way of understanding God through knowledge. It is based on pure reason, pure rational though. Not…supernatural bubkis.”
“So, everything you have created…What were you planning on using all that stuff for?”
“No, you don’t understand, little one. There was never any purpose or intent of use… …beyond the act of creation. We create to commune with God. Do you see that?”
"You’ve lost me.”
Dinky thought for a moment. It was similar when her father explained his origin and the technology he used before he met her mother. Then she got it.
“It’s like mathematical equations.”
“Go on, Go on, little one.”
"And each solved equation brings you closer to God. The act of creation itself is the intended use.”
“Now you get it, little one.”
“The technology my Papa used before he met Mama is very similar of yours. I’m sure you would have a lot to talk about.” She smiled at Set.
She trotted to Klaus room. “Hello Dinky, how are you?”
“Good. Sorry about your Family. You are a good father.” Klaus tried to hold back tears.
“Oh, I didn’t want to make you sad.” Dinky felt guilty.
“It’s alright. It’s just, there's not a day goes by I don't think about my wife and son.”
“How was your wife?”
Klaus smiled. “She was great.” Then he had a flashback.
“Congratulations! It’s a boy!” The doctor said. However he turned shocked. “He has a club foot!”
Klaus just fell to his knees. “Please don’t report it to the authorities! I beg you! We tried for years to have a Child! Please!” The doctor agreed.
After a few Days at home, Klaus smiled at his son. “Despite his foot, he is so cute! You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”
“And you’re a good father,” His wife replied.
But suddenly, there was a loud knock on the Door. Two agents of the Gestapo were at the door. “We’re here for your Son,” One agent said.
“No please! He is our only child.” Klaus wife begged. But the other agent stepped in and grabbed the Son.
“I won’t allow you to take him away!” Klaus screamed and rushed at the agent, but the other agent blocked him and struck him with his hand gun and aimed at his head. The wife grabbed it but the agent overpowered her and shot her in the head. Then he shot the son.
“I will spare you since we need you in the war. But weakness and birth defect cannot be tolerated.” The agents leaved.
Klaus couldn’t help but crying over the death of his wife and Son. “I’m so sorry. I wish it hadn’t end like this!” He continued to cry.
Klaus was brought out of his flashback when he felt something warm. Dinky had wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you. Dinky.” He returned the gesture.
”No problem, Klaus! You’re a good father. Stay that way.”
“And you’re a good filly.”
“Maybe check on Max.” Klaus walked with Dinky to Max’s room. They saw him sleeping and a drawing of his toys. “Looks like he lost his Toys. I search them for him.”
Dinky trotted to the hanger bay. She saw the toy robot walking on the ground. “Lost toy. Well, I found you. If I remember correctly, I saw a toy phone in Caroline’s room.”
She found the toy phone. “Neat toy. All I had was a Smarty Pants doll and my drawing set.” She turned around and saw the toy cubes behind the picture. “You belong to Max. I’ll get you home. I think I saw the toy Fire truck in the archive.” She was right with the truck. “Another toy on the run.”
Dinky returned to Max’s room and putted the toys on the Table. She formed the word Max with the cubes. “Good dreams, Max.”
She was so busy with helping, that she didn’t notice that B.J. came back from his Mission. “Welcome back, Blazkowicz.”
“Hello again, Dinky. Sorry, I’m busy right now. But I certainly need some sleep.” He joined Anya in bed.
“Can I sleep with you? You remind me of Nina and Johann.
“Of course Dinky. But there’s something else that is bothers you.”
Dinky took a deep breath. “On my first night at Nina and Johann, I had a Nightmare.”
Dinky turned away with lowered ears but Anya patted her back. “It’s okay sweetheart, you can tell us.” Dinky did the trick B.J. had showed her and told them about her nightmare she had about Deathshead.
“Don’t worry Dinky, we protect you from Deathshead,” B.J. said while Anya wrapped her arm around Dinky.
“Why do you call him Deathshead?”
“Deathshead is the nickname of General Strasse. We gave him that name in the War.”
“Oh, okay.”
Dinky was fast asleep when Anya held her in a protective manner. I will make sure that you won’t suffer the same fate as Fergus. Her nightmare reminded B.J. of the choice he had to make.
But none of them would expect that this nightmare would also come true.