Prologue
‘He regains consciousness.’
Oaaahhh...my head...
Which raises the question...whose head? Am I still in Hitler’s body - or Hannes Resle and back in 2026?
‘Adolf, how are you?’
So, I may, or rather, I must, continue to be Germany’s Fuehrer… And if I was unconscious for no more than a few hours, today is 7 July 1942, the Second World War has been history for more than half a year, and we are celebrating the founding of the Eurasian Union in beautiful southern France. I open my eyes and recognize a magnificent specimen of a nose. No doubt, kneeling next to me is my friend Charles de Gaulle, President of the French Republic. I breathe a sigh of relief, turn my head to the other side - and stare into a glowing volcano. A split second later, the eruption blows into my face.
‘Adolf Hitler, how old are you? 53 or 13? If I may remind you: In six months, you’ll be a father! Then act like one! You’re lucky to be alive! What’s got into you? Jumping down that man-sized heel on a bicycle...’
Really? It looked flatter somehow.
‘What’s there to grin about? One could almost think you’re proud of your insane action.’
If I may introduce: My wife Sarah Hitler, née Clermont. A few months ago, I rescued her from German soldiers, and in return, Sarah hid me from her comrades of the Resistance. ([1]) She and my faithful companion Wilhelm Canaris, head of the united German and French secret services, are the only ones who know my true identity.
Another voice, followed by a face.
‘My Fuehrer, I had warned you. This bicycle is a first prototype and has by far not yet the necessary stability for such daring actions.’
Ernst Telschow, Chairman of the German Research Society, holds up the first mountain bike in history, whose crescent-shaped compressed front wheel could have come from a painting by Dali.
‘But the frame and fork surprised me in the most pleasant way. You see...no distortion at all. If we strengthen the rims and spokes a little more, I’m confident you’ll soon be...’
If looks could kill...two green glacial lakes silence first him, then it’s my turn again.
‘Adolf Hitler…if you ever dare to go near such a crazy bicycle again...’
Now only one can help, and my noble knight is not letting me down. Armed with the impenetrable armour of his French charm, Charles takes his compatriot by the hand and thus saves me from finishing her sentence. ’Sarah, I think we should get dinner sorted’.
Only after dessert do I dare to approach her.
‘Sarah, a short walk to aid digestion?’
‘Hmph.’
A good sign. At least she dignifies me with a sound, albeit a somewhat indefinable one. Obviously, her anger has faded a bit.
After a few minutes, she suddenly stops and looks me in the eye.
‘Hannes, what’s got into you? Did you want to tempt fate? A bicycle accident brought you into our time and this body - isn’t that enough? Don’t you want to stay with us anymore? Do you think a new task is waiting for you somewhere else, in another time, in another body?’
I am completely astonished and realise once again how different women and men are. A new task? Not really...this one is quite enough for me.
‘Sarah...uh...to be honest I...didn’t think anything of it. I just wanted to try out the mountain bike and then I got carried away.’
‘Hannes, once again I have to realise how different men and women are. We think too much - and you don’t think at all.’
