Lion, Tiger, Bear | 263 History obfuscated by the fucking Vatican Jesuits, said Geer in disgust. Swine monks, quick with the scissors on ancient texts, then burned the rest in bonfires. Murmurs of agreement. A young, bespectacled Waffen SS junior officer with a squeaky voice, Untersturmfuhrer Otvos, a stickler, sternly retorted: Always remember the Fuhrer admires the Pope in secret since the Pope represents the Knights of Malta. We should all be thankful for Romes assistance on rounding up the Italian and Romanian Jews. Uncomfortable murmurs. A botanist blurted: Maltese Cross,Templar Cross, German Iron Cross. Theyre all the same. Theyre all ancient symbols of the sun when in a circle. And the center sun of the cosmos and creation. Its all hidden behind religion and lying secret societies, said a biologist. What? The Iron Cross? How can this be? growled pudgy, clean-shaven Waffen SS Captain Schlapp angrily, an obnoxious officer loathed by all. Bea, wolfing down German potato salad and French beans with hollandaise, her thirst for strong drink satisfied at last by excellent French vintage, broke the tension. Oh, it can be all right. As for symbology and the occult, Herr Schafer taught us Tibetan meditation with the help of his friend Kunchen, a Yellow Hat monk. Ace fellow, he was. This is insane… a luscious luncheon with our opposite numbers. What, no salad fork? Schafer sighed. Howl miss him. A man full of cosmic wisdom and benevolence. Pardon me, but I thought SS members didnt partake in alcohol, asked Alice. All that pure bloodline, pure heart, and loyalty stuff. Prosti went the table, cups clanging. The SS Sondergruppe IX members here at our table, our vaunted Gebirgsjdger mountaineer protectors, may not partake, nor do Waffen SS officers Schlapp and Otvos, but we Ahnenerbe are given some unofficial leeway from time to time for very special occasions out here in the field, said Schafer, pulling off his worn leather gloves one finger at a time. But it is…a rarity. Sober Otvos stood, his voice shrill. As the Thule manual states clearly on page twenty-one, section three: An addictive poison and intoxicant. Fouls the liver. Burns the stomach lining and intestines while in sufficient quantities creating a pineal gland gateway in the brain for unbenign interdimensional intruders, sometimes referred to as…spirits.Hence the old name for atrocious alcoholic beverages. I second that, said Schlapp. Mild chuckles ensued.