Adolf Hitler and His Submarine or Adolf vs. the Mafia

Prologue

In another multi-verse, in another time, it is the 1930s.

Canada and Britain are locked in a cold war with America.  Canada is controlled by its evil Prime Minister, Tommy ‘The Needle’ Douglas, whose platform of state-provided medical insurance for all, as well as his radical agenda of eugenics - to rid society of subnormal or incurable people - has placed him in almost dictatorial power. 

He knows the USA is his main stumbling block for a ‘Final World Cleanse’.   If he can control North America, with America’s wealth and power, he can control the world.  Supporting him are ‘big pharma’ and the International Medical Association.   Slowly they are controlling drug and food supplies, as well as gradually eliminating ‘unfit’ citizens in Canada.

The good people of America have resisted Douglas’s message of intolerance and forced insurance, but that has not stopped Douglas and his agent provocateurs from forming a fifth column in the United States to destroy America from within.

Among the many brave men and women who are actively working for the interests of America, is one young man, and his father who we concern ourselves with today.  They are inventors, explorers, a family of integrity, full of courage, pluck, daring and the fighting spirit that is the embodiment of the ideal American. 

They are Adolf and Alois Hitler of Shopton, New York.

Adolf Hitler and His Submarine Boat

One

News of Sunken Canadian Gold

The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.…Adolf Hitler

Deep under the Leviathan Block on Parliament Hill, Ottawa, in the Diefenbunker, a inhuman howling sound emanates from one of the most dangerous men in history.

By way of introduction, he is both screaming and frothing at the mouth. His head is covered in dripping perspiration and spittle sprays from his lips on to the expensive suit he is wearing. His fists are clenched and are shaking about his head.

He is Prime Minister of the Dominion of Canada, Tommy ‘The Needle’ Douglas, PC, CC, SOM, MA, LL.D, and he is consumed by a furious anger.

The source of his rage is detailed in the report he holds crumpled in his fist. The file describes the failing of CTU, the Canadian Termination Unit, to have Adolf Hitler and his father convicted of bank robbery and thus discredited in the eyes of the American public. In fact, the result was quite the reverse – Adolf Hitler was instead hailed as a true American hero after a decisive battle against CTU’s undercover agents.

The nefarious plot, set in motion by CTU’s top field agent Jack Beck, was a colossal failure. What made matters worse, was the fact that Beck was Douglas’s own grandson, so he could hardly have him arrested and flung into one of his own concentration camps for eugenically impure degenerates and enemies of the state.

Twenty minutes later, after Douglas felt himself in control, he pressed a red button on his desk and a uniform Mountie marched into his office and stood to attention. Tell my grandson to pick up John Roselli from the Beacon Arms Hotel and have them both report to me tomorrow at nine sharp.

By the next morning the Prime Minister was himself again. Jack Beck and John Roselli were seated in front of the large Art Deco desk that ‘The Needle’ liked to sit behind. Above and behind Douglas was a large Caduceus affixed to the wall, like some kind of perverted cross. The two intertwined serpents, wrapped around a needle, staring at each other was both the new symbol of medicine, and the hated symbol of the Douglas regime. The Caduceus was displayed on red, white and black arm-bands worn by Canadian police, armed forces and government as well as ‘medical’ staff.

Jack was eying Roselli with little disguised contempt and scorn. He had good reason to distrust Roselli.

Jack, I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you to bring Mr. Roselli here to me, rather than arrest him.

When the Prime Minister asks me to escort one of the most notorious American mafia Dons to his office, I don’t ask why. Of course, if it was anyone but you, Prime Minister, I would have just tortured Roselli here into a quivering mass of verbal diarrhea.

Hey, punk, I’m not afraid of you, said the mobster.

Jack hated being called a punk and told the Don: There are three leading causes of death among Mafioso like you. The first two are Jack Beck, and the third one is heart attack from hearing that Jack Beck is coming for you.

Gentlemen, you need to temper your emotions. Douglas now addressed Jack: Mr. Roselli is a very important man and our guest. He is here in Canada at my invitation. As you know, he is part of the North American council for his, eh, what should I call it, organization? The same organization that American FBI chief, J. Edgar Hover, claims does not exist, so they are a good ally for us when we don’t want to expose our hand. And considering some of our key undercover agents are locked up as a result of your last operation…

Jack winced; he knew his grandfather was still upset with him for the failure of his team in the United States.

In any event, Mr. Roselli has contacts throughout his country and has agreed to make some at our disposal for an important operation.

I’ll work with anyone you tell me to, Prime Minister, even if I consider them lower than Nina Meyers’ ear wax. Beck turned to Roselli, eyes flashing with contempt, Hoover says organized crime doesn’t exist, eh? He must be a great ‘man’. Too busy playing dress-up with you, Dons?

Jack, you will show some respect to Mr. Roselli!

Roselli was a Don and use to being treated with respect. He looked at Beck and turned to the Canadian Prime Minister, Ehhhh, not a problem, Mr. Douglas, not a problem. Jack here, is, all in all, not a bad guy if looks, brains and personality don't count.

Douglas bristled, but did not want any conflict between the two men.

Look, here’s the situation. We sent a large amount of gold and weapons to South America to help spark a pro-eugenics revolt and promote big medicine, er, I mean universal health care. Typical of these tin-pot countries, their merchant navy is rather poor and generally drunk. And sadly, our precious cargo was on one of their ships when it went down in a gale. We want it back.

Well, what’s the problem Prime Minister, can’t we send one of our submarines down there and recover it? asked Beck.

Jack, the gold is three miles underwater. Right now there are just two submarines in the world that MIGHT be able to do the job. Thank the Lord the first is owned by a mafia front company in the States, but the other is being built by none other than Adolf Hitler and his father!

Hitler! shouted Jack as he stood up, enraged. How is this possible? Just a few months ago he’s flying all over America in his own airship and today he has, perhaps, the most advanced submarine ever built, eh?

That’s aboot the size of it. So, to ensure we are successful, we have hired John’s men who are already on the payroll of U.S. Shipping and Service Corporation. It was their front company that built the other sub. They will be tasked to either ensure that the Hitler’s submarine doesn’t get the gold and to make sure that gold gets back to us. We’d also like to acquire Hitler’s sub to advance our naval operations. This is too big a mission for your undercover gang of hobos, Jack. I just want you to be in the loop here.

One more thing, Douglas added, Mr. Roselli, I don’t like guns. I prefer a more ‘medical’ approach, if possible. Look get me back my gold, and get that submarine too. And keep the Hitler’s alive – there is much we can learn from them.

Sometimes, you can get more with a kind word and a gun than you can with a kind word alone, said the Don, who did believe in guns.

Jack thought, "Maybe I could get along with this guy".

Douglas looked unimpressed. The Don thought for a moment and then said:

Let me tell you a story about an old Don. This old Don was dyin’ and he knew it. So he calls his grandson to his bed and says - You lissin-a me. I wanna for you to taka my chrome plated .38 Smit-a-Wesson so you will always remember me."

But Grandpa, I really don't like guns. Howz about you leava me your Rolex watch instead?

Shuddup an lissin. Somma day you gonna runna da business, you gonna have a beautifula wife, lots a money, a biga haus and maybe a couple a bambinos. Somma day you gonna coma home and maybe finda your wife inna bed wit' anodda man.

Whadda you gonna do then... pointa to you watch and a say, time's up?

Jack did not realize it was meant to be funny and said, I agree entirely.

Douglas laughed a little but was adamant. I need to know what the Hitlers know and as good as Jack is, can’t get a word out of a dead body, so keep that in mind. I think we’re aboot done here, gentlemen, so I’ll let you get back to the States, Mr. Roselli. Keep us up to date on your progress.

---

There was a rushing, whizzing, throbbing noise in the air. A great body, like that of some immense bird of prey, sailed along casting a Valhalla-like shadow on the ground below. An elderly man, who was seated on the porch of a large house, started to his feet in admiration.

What a heroic sight! Would you look that, Mrs. Krautenbacher! he called to a motherly-looking woman who stood in the doorway.

Amazing.

Nothing less than the Red Komet, Mr. Hitler, was the calm reply. Adolf and Mr. Professor Zeppelin are returning in their airship.

To be sure! exclaimed Mr. Alois Hitler, the well-known inventor, as he started down the path in order to get a better view of the sky unobstructed by the trees. Yes, I can see them better from here, he added. That's the airship, but I didn't expect them back so soon. They must have made good time from Shopton. I wonder if anything could be the matter that they hurried so?

He gazed aloft toward where a red cigar-shaped machine was circling about nearly five hundred feet in the air. The craft, after swooping down close to the house, had ascended and was now hovering just above the line of breakers that marked the New Jersey seacoast where Mr. Hitler had taken up a temporary residence.

Don't begin worrying, Mr. Hitler, advised Mrs. Krautenbacher, the housekeeper. You've got too much to do if you get that new underwater boat done.

That's so. I must not show weakness. But I wish Adolf and Mr. Professor Zeppelin would land, for I want to talk to them.

As if the occupants of the airship had heard the words of the aged inventor, they headed their craft toward earth. The combined aeroplane and dirigible balloon, a most wonderful traveler of the air, swung around and then with the deflection rudders slanted downward, came on with a rush. When near the landing place, just at the side of the house, the motor was stopped and the gas, with a hissing noise, rushed into the red aluminum container. This immediately made the ship more buoyant and it landed almost as gently as a feather.

No sooner had the wheels which formed the lower part of the craft touched the ground, than there leaped from the cabin of the Red Komet a young man of pluck, courage and daring, a true American hero, Adolf Hitler.

Well, Dad! the broad-shouldered, blond, blue eyed youth exclaimed as he bounced from the leap, Here we are again, safe and sound. Made a record, too. Touched ninety miles an hour at times—didn't we, Mr. Professor Zeppelin?

That's right, agreed a tall, thin man, who followed Adolf Hitler more leisurely in his exit from the cabin. Mr. Professor Zeppelin, a veteran aeronaut, stopped to fasten guide ropes from the airship to strong stakes previously driven into the ground.

And we'd have done better, only we struck a hard wind against us about two miles up in the air, which delayed us, went on Adolf. Did you hear us coming, Dad?

Yes, and it made him proud, put in Mrs. Krautenbacher. I guess he wasn't expecting you so soon.

Oh, well, I shouldn't have been so amazed, only I was thinking deeply about a certain change I am going to make in the submarine, Adolf. I was day-dreaming, I think, when your ship whizzed through the air. But tell me, did you find everything all right at Shopton? No signs of any of those scoundrels of the Canadian Dookie Dexter gang having been around? Mr. Hitler looked anxiously at his son.

Not a sign, Dad, replied Adolf quickly. Everything was all right. We brought the items you requested. They're in the airship. Oh, but it was a fine trip. I'd like to take another right out to sea.

Not now, Adolf, said his father. I want you to help me. And I need Mr. Professor Zeppelin's help, too. Get the things out of the compartment and we'll go to the shop.

First, I think we'd better put the airship away, advised Mr. Professor Zeppelin. I just don't like the looks of the weather and besides, if we leave the ship exposed we'll be sure to have a crowd around here sooner or later and we don't want that.

No, indeed, remarked the aged inventor hastily. I don't want people prying around the submarine shed. By all means put the airship away and then come into the shop.

In spite of its great size, the aeroplane was easily wheeled along by Adolf and Mr. Professor Zeppelin, for the gas in the container made it so buoyant that it barely touched the earth. A little more of the powerful vapor and the Red Komet would have risen by itself. In a few minutes the wonderful craft of which our readers have been told about in detail in a previous volume, Adolf Hitler and His Airship was safely housed in a large tent which was securely fastened.

Mr. Professor Zeppelin and Adolf, carrying some bundles which they had taken from the car or cabin of the craft, went toward a large shed which adjoined the house that Mr. Hitler had hired for the season at the seashore. This was no ordinary shed, it only looked like that on the outside. No, this was a submarine dry dock.

They found the lad's father standing before a great shape which loomed up dimly in the semi-darkness of the building. It was like an immense cylinder, pointed at either end and here and there were openings covered with thick glass like immense bulging eyes. From the number of tools and machinery all about the place and from the appearance of the great cylinder itself, it was easy to see that it was only partially completed.

Well, how’s the progress, Dad? asked the youth as he deposited his bundle on a bench. Is she ready yet?

Soon, Adolf, soon. The positive and negative plates are giving me considerable trouble, though. But have no fear, we can solve the challenge. Did you bring me the galvanometer?

Yes, and all the other things, the young inventor proceeded to remove the articles from the bundles he carried.

Mr. Hitler looked them over carefully while Adolf walked about examining the submarine, for such was the amazing craft that was contained in the shed. He noted that some improvement had been made on it since he had left the seacoast several days before to make a trip to Shopton, in New York State, where the Hitler compound and homestead was located. He picked up some tools and apparatus that his father wanted to obtain from his main workshop there.

You and Dr. Todt have put on several new plates, observed the lad after a pause.

Yes, admitted his father. Fritz and I weren't idle, were we, Fritz? he nodded to the aged engineer who had been in his employ for many years.

No. And I guess we'll soon have her in the water, Adolf, now that you and Mr. Professor Zeppelin are here to help us, replied Dr. Todt.

We ought to have Mr. Mosley here to bless the submarine and his break-pads and front-end a few times, put in Mr. Professor Zeppelin, who brought in another bundle. He was referring to their eccentric friend who had recently accompanied them on an airship voyage, and his peculiar habit of using such expressions as: Bless my slotted rotor! Bless my o-rings and valves!

Well, I'll be glad when we can make a trial trip, Adolf went on. I've traveled pretty fast on land with my motorcycle and we certainly have hummed through the air. Now I want to see how it feels to scoot along under water.

Well, if everything goes well we'll be in position to make a trial trip inside of a month, remarked the aged inventor. Look here, Mr. Professor Zeppelin, I made a change in the steering gear which I'd like you and Adolf to consider.

The three walked around to the rear of the odd-looking structure, if an object shaped like a cigar can be said to have a front and rear. The inventor, his son and the aeronaut were soon deep in a discussion of the technicalities connected with under-water navigation.

A little later they went into the house in response to a summons from the supper bell vigorously rung by Mrs. Krautenbacher. She was not fond of waiting with meals and even the most serious problem of mechanics was, in her estimation, nothing compared with having the soup get cold or the possibility of not having the meat done to a turn, or Adolf’s unique vegetarian dinners prepared just the way he liked them.

The meal was interspersed with remarks about the recent airship flight of Adolf and Mr. Professor Zeppelin and discussions about the new submarine. This talk went on even after the table was cleared off and