He waits until all eyes are fixed on him, until he can be certain that all those present are paying him their utmost attention. Only then does he begin to speak.
“My brothers-in-arms. I thank you for your trust, and value greatly that you are entrusting me with the leadership of the squadron in these difficult times. My predecessor is a very tough act to follow—we all know what Heinrich von Ritteck achieved for our cause. Staffel 444 was his life, a life he decided, at the very end, to take himself. He chose an honorable death, and thus avoided the shame of being arrested by a corrupt police force. All of you know just how much filth the lying press have poured onto him these past weeks—and so we shall honor his memory all the more.” He reaches for his glass and raises it up high. The others get to their feet—the younger men swiftly, the old men slowly and with difficulty. Again, he waits until everyone is ready, then he clicks his heels. “To Heinrich von Ritteck!”
“To Heinrich von Ritteck!”
They drink, and only sit back down when he sets his glass onto the table.
“I would like to welcome three newcomers to our ranks. Ulrich Herfurth, Max Jauner, Albert Puch—welcome!”
The men he named all bow their heads. Each of them is a man of influence, each in a different area.
“You are joining a fellowship of great tradition.” He feels there is no harm in emphasizing this to the new inductions. “Our parent organization was Gladio, the clandestine army brought into being after the war, as a defense in the event that Communism should overrun Europe. Today, this threat is no longer to be feared. Staffel 444 has by no means taken up the cause of supporting the diseased pan-European construct in which we are regrettably trapped. We fight only for Germany, against foes who threaten our home from the inside and out.” His lets his gaze sweep over the faces of the others, slowly, poignantly. “When Gladio blew up Bologna central station in 1980, the number of casualties came to eighty-five. Our operation in Munich was almost twice as effective; we exceeded by far our target of at least one hundred casualties. And unlike how it was for our predecessors, now the anger of the people will be permanently directed at those who it is our duty to fight. This is what Heinrich von Ritteck gave his life for, and it was not in vain.”
He allows himself a slight smile, the first of the day. “Despite the painful loss of our leader, we have reason to be joyful,” he continues. “The German people have taken action. At the elections two weeks ago, they have shown what they think of weakness, tolerance, and leniency toward the subhumans who threaten and overpopulate us. From the ashes of our magnificent explosion, the German spirit is rising to new heights, just like a phoenix.”
Everyone present raps their knuckles on the tabletop in approval. He nods, waits until they have quieted down again.
“We have achieved a great deal, but much still lies ahead of us. I found out yesterday that Hans Gabor will take full responsibility for everything we could otherwise be charged with, due to the witnesses he didn’t manage to get rid of. Gabor failed, but he is prepared to atone for his failure and exonerate the others who were arrested.”
They listen, although some of them are frowning warily. He puts more emphasis into his voice. “There is no cause for concern. If Gabor should change his mind, we have members of Staffel 444 on location who we can trust to act swiftly.”
He raises his glass again. “The next project will run without error, I personally vouch for that. Germany has a future, a grand future, and it lies in our hands.”