[ WP ] Churchill once said , `` If Hitler invaded hell I would make at least a favourable reference to the devil in the House of Commons. ” It 's March 1941 , and the Wehrmacht has crosses the River Styx .

Charon gently paddled the long oar across the dark waters, silence his only companion in the foggy waters of Styx. He craned his bony neck as he stared off into the distance, counting the number of souls awaiting to be ferried from the shore. The boat creaked and groaned, soft ripples emanating from the water surface, as he neared the shore. This was his first round in four decades, and the bloated crowd murmuring in the distance corroborated that fact. 
 
 
 
 BOOM! 
 
 
 
 A large gust of wind, smoke and dust swept the entire shore, the shattering sound of a humongous explosion swallowing the surprised screams of the victims. A huge shockwave swept the entire radius like a storm, sweeping everything in its path with a ferocious force. The ferry tipped to its side as Charon struggled to keep it afloat, dust and debris clouding his sight. Rocks and boulders cracked from the walls, rolling into the waters with a huge crush. Loud humming of machinery reverberated from the vicinity. Line after line of huge metallic tanks drove through the huge hole created by the explosion, their turrets protruding through the choking coat of dust and debris. 
 
 
 
 `` Weitergehen! Keep moving!'' A voice shouted from one of the armored vehicles amidst the whirring chaos. He stepped out of the vehicle in a black trenchcoat and a visored cap. He stepped into the rubble, as he strode towards the shore, his eyes darting across the river. The vehicles soon came to a stop, several doors opened as uniformed men came out of the trucks. Their shoulders strapped in rifles, as they encompassed the shorter man. He held his hands over his crotch as he surveyed the distance, a crooked smile forming under his odd moustache. 
 
 
 
 
 `` Friedrich!'' He called out in an authoritarian high pitch. 
 
 
 
 A man broke through the large crowd armed in guns as he rushed to his beckon, fondling a paper in his hand. 
 
 
 
 
 `` Zend out ze letter. I want you to write all ze details as I instructed earlier. I want it to reach to him in time.'' The moustached man posed in a stoic posture, his eyes still darting across the shore, as if in search for something. 
 
 
 
 `` But fuhrer, in all respect he will need some proof of this expedition. Not many men would find this believable froma sheet of paper.'' Friedrich replied timidly. 
 
 
 
 
 The moustached man strode forward across the shore over the rubble, staring at the cowering souls, several crushed under the huge weight of the boulders. 
 
 
 
 `` What was ze name of his deceased daughter?'' He asked. 
 
 
 
 `` Marigold Churchill. But she died in 1921, sir.'' Friedrich responded, his fingers busy scribbling across the paper. 
 
 
 
 
 A smug of satisfaction wore his face again as he peered into the crowd. If his knowledge was correct, the ferrier of the dead travelled every fourty years. He turned toward the souls, clearing his voice in preparation. 
 
 
 
 `` If your name zis Marigold Churchill, I oblige you to step forward!'' His voice echoed through the cavernous vicinity, ripples of murmurs stirred amongst the crowd. 
 
 
 
 `` You have nothing to fear! Some of you may recognise who I am. But I am looking for Marigold Churchill, zere zis someone she has to meet.'' 
 
 
 
 The crowd of again replied in a murmur. A small path opened between them, as they parted way for an unknown figure to pass through. Tiny feet pitter pattered across the rubble, walking towards the voice that called out for her. 
 
 
 
 
 He craned towards her direction. Watching her appearance as she cleared from the gathering crowd as they peered down at her. Curiosity bubbling from the questioning faces. He tried to contain the chuckle but it was all in vain. He watched as her feeble hands stretch out to his, as he stretched out his own in response. He knelt down on one knee as he gazed at the child. Her infant palms holding onto his, as they stared upon each other. 
 
 
 
 
 `` Friedrich.'' He called out, his eyes still lingering at upon his new found companion. 
 
 
 
 `` Yes, my fuhrer.'' 
 
 
 
 He stood up as he carried the child into his arms. 
 
 
 
 `` Where was our next targeted destination?'' He chucked as the child stroked his thick mass of moustache, fondling it in her fingers. 
 
 
 
 `` It was Russia, my fuhrer.'' Friedrich answered in a tremoulous cadence, trepidation evident in his words, fearing the response that was going to leave his master's toungue. 
 
 
 
 He watched his Fuhrer's eyes, as they danced maniacally as they gazed upon the innocent child. He followed those eyes, as they changed their gaze from the child, and darted towards the Charon, who hovered in the murky waters of the Styx. 
 
 
 
 `` Friedrich, cancel that schedule. We have a new destination.''
