Paul POV
Paul blinked and rubbed his eyes. The familiar darkness of the U-boat was gone, the water was gone, the temperature had changed, everything was different.
"What the fuck," Paul cursed.
Paul found himself under a thick wool blanket, lying in a wooden bed.
"Was this a dream?" he muttered utterly confused by the situation.
But it wasn't his own bed he woke up. The bed he found himself in, the drawer with the glass water on top of it, the whole room he was in, it didn't look like it belonged to the 21st century.
Paul slowly pushed the blanket aside and sat up cautiously. He looked around himself once more, his eyes wandering across the unfamiliar looking room, until they landed on a small mirror hanging on the opposite wall.
His eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. The reflection staring back at him was not his own, it was an entirely unfamiliar man, Paul had never seen before. His jet black hair was slicked back neatly , his eyes a piercing ocean blue and a jawline sharp enough to cut.
Paul also glanced at the clothes the man wore. A crisp field gray-black military uniform hugged his strong frame, the fabric heavy with history. Black labels, polished silver buttons, and a leather belt with a silver buckle caught his attention.
Paul spend what felt like an eternity wandering the room, running his hand across the rough wooden drawer, touching the thick blanket again, tracing the insignia on his collar as if to prove it was real. The more he did, the colder the truth settled in his bones.
"The man in the mirror… is me," he whispered. His voice trembled. "This is not a dream. And these insignia… they're German."
"And my name is Heinrich Jaeger," he stuttered. Foreign memories invaded his mind, faces, places and events that were not his own.
"Those are Heinrich's memories...my ancestor,"Paul realised. He was somehow transported to the body of his ancestor.
Paul spent the next few minutes trying to make sense of the flood of memories rushing through his mind. Heinrich had just turned twenty-four and was born in Frankfurt. His mother had died when he was still a child, leaving him to grow up mostly under the care of his father and alongside his two sisters. Later, inspired and stirred by Hitler's speeches and the political climate of the time, he joined a military school.
"And as for today's date...it's the first of march 1936,"Paul stammered.
Paul swallowed hard, his mind still spinning. His uniform unfamiliar, yet perfectly fitting, like it has always been there. His fingers also brushed over the insignia on his shoulder, one silver bar, a second Lieutenant, Paul confirmed.
Heinrich Jaeger. Leutnant. Not just a name, not just a rank,it was a life, one that demanded respect, obedience, and courage. The drill routines, the training, the discipline… all rushed into his mind with startling clarity.
A sudden knock made him jump up. A voice called sharply:
"Leutnant Jaeger, report to the courtyard immediately!"
There was no time to ponder, no time for thinking. At that moment Paul realised he couldn't afford to be discovered. He collected himself one last time, taking a deep breath while adjusting his collar.
The moment he walked through that door he would become Heinrich Jaeger.
And so he did. Paul pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the fresh morning air. The courtyard was alive with movements, soldiers marching in formation, their black leather boots stricking the stone in perfect rhythm.
He felt a strange sense of belonging yet it was still disorienting, but before could fully understand his feelings towards the place, he noticed an officer walking towards him.
He recognized the man as Hauptmann Kruger, his direct superior and commanding officer of the 3rd Company within the 2nd Infantry Regiment "Frankfurt." Heinrich himself led the 1st Platoon, consisting of about forty soldiers.
"Leutnant Jaeger," he barked, voice carrying over the courtyard. "Report immediately. I expect no hesitation."
Paul swollowed hard, but he managed to calm himself. He straightend his uniform, while walking towards the direction of the Hauptmann and the forty men from his platoon.
Paul salutated the Hauptmann, who only nodded in return. The his eyes swept over the fourthy soldiers waiting in formation, awaiting his orders.
"Platoon, fall in!" he called, his voice steadier than he felt. The soldiers snapped to attention, heads turning in unison, boots striking the ground with precision.
Paul remembered the countless drills, exercises and orders Heinrich had to his men in the past. He tried to command them with the same authority and discipline.
"First squad, forward march! Eyes front! Keep the lines straight!" he shouted.
As the soldiers moved, Paul felt a strange thrill building up inside him. For just a moment he forgot about all the confusion, the fear and the anger that had wreaked havoc in his mind since his transmigration.
"Very good, Leutnant," Kruger finally said, bringing Paul out of his trance, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "Maintain this discipline. I expect nothing less in the field. Your platoon will be ready for the upcoming exercises. Move out!"
A small, almost guilty smile tugged at his lips. Commanding this platoon, feeling the authority of Heinrich's body, it was intoxicating. And yet, deep down, he knew the world outside these walls was shifting toward something far darker. What kind of role would he play in the coming war? Would he wholeheartedly support Germany, or would his conscience not allow it? Could he ever return to the future?
"I will survive, and I will come back… somehow," Paul told himself silently. "That's all I know for now."