Death's Head Legion by Trey Garrison

doctor’s face. Then Übel smiled.
    â€œIt’s okay, Otto,” he reassured the frightened lab assistant. “It’s a big man who can laugh at himself.”
    Otto let out a sigh. He had to stifle another laugh; the doctor was only five feet two inches tall.
    A black-uniformed SS junior officer rushed into the laboratory. He gave a stiff-arm salute and the obligatory “Sieg heil!”
    â€œDr. Übel! Reichsführer Himmler requests your presence in the General’s Hall!” the young aide shouted. Übel had observed the aides all had a penchant for shouting.
    â€œ Ach —Project Gefallener, I should expect. They have, no doubt, approved my request to proceed in readying the fifth phase test. Excellent,” Dr. Übel said. “Officer, I will need you to stay and help get Jurg back to his cage.”
    â€œJawohl!” the junior officer shouted.
    Otto looked at Dr. Übel quizzically.
    Ãœbel signed to the gorillion, Jurg, break the Thin Man’s arms.
    Just before he closed the door behind him and Otto began screaming, Dr. Übel said over his shoulder, “I am not a big man, Otto.”
    General’s Hall, North Tower
    Wewelsburg Castle
    A s always, Reinhard Heydrich was at Himmler’s side. He was so well trained, some joked quietly, Heydrich didn’t even need a leash anymore. Those who didn’t joke quietly, of course, tended to disappear.
    Ironically, Heydrich welcomed underestimation. The man was brilliant beyond words; brilliant enough to know that even his young age was a handicap despite the fact he was twice the strategist, organizer, and Nazi that his master was. He could afford to bide his time, waiting in the shadows of the New Order to serve as its master for the next generation.
    The regular members of the Black Sun sat at their positions, including Josef “Sepp” Deitrich, commandant of the Waffen-SS. Deitrich was one of the few actual military veterans among the many seated here, even though all wore resplendent military or paramilitary uniforms. He had more than a little contempt for those who wore a uniform now, when they hadn’t during the war. Before the meeting began he was grousing rather loudly about the lack of cooperation between the industrial sector and his Waffen-SS.
    Deitrich was a singular soldier and leader. In the Great War he had served as one of the first mechanized crawler and panzer commanders, where he’d lead a steam and diesel powered force of the first generation of land ships that broke through the British trenches at the Somme. After the war, he joined the freikorps militia, having had few other prospects in the economic depression that beset Germany. In 1920, after an ordinary bout of political street violence, he’d decided to switch sides and join the nascent National Socialist party. He was attracted to its promises of a revitalized, remilitarized Germany. With time, he eventually became an adherent to the Thule Society doctrines, and his embrace of its Aryan mysticism gave important credibility to the society in veteran military circles.
    But that’s not why he was an important leader in the New Order. He was a true believer in the whole doctrine: Aryan racial destiny, systematic socialism tempered by strict nationalism, and the brotherhood of blood loyalty. He believed in the blood and in the equal sharing of sacrifice and reward of all within the Reich—social justice for all Aryans who served the collective whole.
    Deitrich initially served the National Socialist German Worker’s Party as Hitler’s chauffeur, but he soon proved his worth as a military man, Aryan scholar, and political strategist. Now, five years after the Nazi takeover, he was one of the two men who had created a whole new branch of the armed services for Germany—the elite Waffen-SS. It easily outnumbered the old German Army—the Heer—and was second to none in dedication to the New Order