POSTCARDS FROM BERLIN
BY RYAN SPIER
Smashwords Edition Copyright © 2011 by Ryan Spier
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PART 1
PART 1
Today is the 27 April, 1945. I can feel death, he is waiting for me. I feel he has been waiting in the shadows ever since I joined Hitler’s youth movement. Every Aryan, my age and younger joined the Hitler Youth with their eyes wide open and their hearts beating proudly in their superior bodies.
National Socialism was a joy to behold, in the beginning. From despair came hope, and from hope was born hatred and death. I wear the uniform of the Nazi. I wear it with pride no more. It is a target for the rest of the world.
What I now write is what happened to me since the Red Army and the Allies invaded our capital. I write this as it happens. My day will come and the red army will bring it. They are not soldiers, they are devils sent here for revenge. I have forgotten how to smile and so have those around me. Berlin has lost much more than its people and buildings, it has lost its spirit. Empty people wander the streets, scrounging whatever they can, in the vain hope it will somehow prolong their wretched lives. They know what the red army brings, and it is not war. It is suffering, torture and death. Their propaganda speaks to us, in much the same way the Nazi propaganda spoke to us. I don’t know what to believe, my life has been based on lies. One day blurs into another . Eyes see ruined buildings and ruined people. Ears hear explosions, gunshots and screams. The relentless barrage of the avenging reds draw close.
My time is now. I write down my thoughts and feelings in my journal, as they occur to me. I hope one day it is found and read. By someone who does not think all Germans were barbaric Nationalists who lived a lie, with visions of world power and brutality oozing from every pore. We were good people once, and some of us still are. Those that survive may continue to be.
Time to write and time to fight, between street battles and the inevitable end.
Everything I now do must be written down as it happens. What happened must become known.
Surrender is impossible, the adult Nazi soldiers shoot anyone who tries to escape or speaks a word out of place. The reds take no prisoners anyway. They have bullets to shoot us, but no food or water for prisoners. The air is heavy with fear and filth. Excuse me if what you read seems rushed but I'm not Charles Dickens or William Shakespeare. This is no Mien Kampf either. That book was the ramblings of a deranged mind. I am not a good Nazi. Just a fifteen year old schoolboy in a Nazi uniform.
The entire city of Berlin is in ruins. We were all told by Mr Goebbel’s and the many other broadcasters that Germany was winning the War. If that were true then why are the Red Army and Allied troops less so close? The Fuhrer has been lying to his people I fear, for a long time. This thought fills me with dread. If we have been lied to about this what else have our leaders lied to us about? My parents always told me not to trust the Nazis. Refer to them, it was always them as National Socialists, do not use the term Nazi.
I knew for certain that Hitler and his party had rescued the German economy from ruin and ended the depression that had started at the end of The Great War. Our teachers tried to brainwash us into believing Jews were responsible for all of Germany's troubles. At that tender age I did not know what to believe. Do you believe your parents when all around you tells you different? I was a child then. A lot has changed in those five years. I feel like an old man now, nearing the end of his life. After what I have seen and been through. Petrified people shot, mutilated bodies lying amongst the ruins, cowards and deserters hanging from lampposts. I feel guilt for ever wearing the Nazi uniform. I had friends who were Jewish, but they vanished. I did not even get the chance to say goodbye to them. I was not allowed to tell anyone this. My parents told me not to repeat anything they told me. They told me to do as I was told and obey orders. But to keep my heart and soul pure. At the time I did not understand what they meant. That was a lesson I learned the hard way. I cannot remember the faces of those I lived with. Do memories vanish with surroundings?
I joined the Hitler youth when I was ten years old, even though my Nazi way of life started when I was born. I was taught to fight like a soldier when I joined the Hitler youth but I never expected to be in the frontline. Unfortunately there seems to be no one else left to fight, only old men, women and children.
Those who are left will not defeat the approaching enemy. They are relentless and unending. Bombs rain down on us. When the bombs stop falling the soldiers come, this is how we exist. Water and food will soon run out. I only eat because I’m a soldier. It is best to look and straight ahead when you walk along. Look down and you see rats feasting on the dead. I fear one day I will see a rat eating my sister or my parents. I feel certain they are dead. How could anyone, outside of the fortress possibly survive?
I am living in an anti aircraft fortress in the northern suburbs of the city. The walls are thick enough to be virtually bombproof. This building was built as a retreat in case our beloved capital was invaded. The Russians are steamrolling through the city now. I have heard they take no prisoners. Fifteen is no age to die.
Today was the first day I saw some action. We are vastly outnumbered so we fight until we drop. I was ordered to go into the heart of Berlin with my second hand Mauser 98 rifle, trusty Luger sidearm and Hitler youth knife. I would hate to have to use a knife. The thought of killing someone with such a weapon is vile. When I received my orders I could barely function. The thought of fighting fills me with a rising terror. My right hand starts to tremble, then my heart begins to pound in my chest and I feel sick. I do not want to die and I do not want to kill anyone. I am just a boy. A rather large, strong boy, but a boy all the same.
There were nine of us in my regiment. All the soldiers have been separated into small groups to try and defend as much of Berlin as possible. We were running through the rubble filled streets dodging through ruined buildings and debris to try and avoid being seen. It did not feel like the city I grew up in. The architecture was breath taking in places. Every street near my house had some sort of joyful memory attached to it. A memory of a time spent with my parents, listening to their stories and wisdom. Or time spent with my friends when we were all equal. You did not have to worry what you said or who you said it to.
These rubble filled streets are not my home anymore. They were another example of the Nazi legacy. Murder, deceit and ruin.
I felt sick, it was as much as I could do not to cry. The sight of my hometown in ruins was enough to dishearten me and drain whatever courage I had left. I could not afford to feel too much now. I had to act, not think. Killing was my business now, but it was not my chosen trade. My emotions seem to pour out of me as I write this all down. This notebook is my companion now. Something I can trust and tell everything to. Writing brings me relief. I pray each time I fill it in.
My regiment and I had been running through the ruined streets towards the sound of gunfire for less than ten minutes when we happened upon some Russian soldiers, there were about twenty in all. None of them wore stripes. The nine of us immediately ran into a bombed out house, hoping we had not been seen. We all knew what to do. Our orders were to kill all enemy soldiers and we all knew we must obey our orders. Everyone had to be loyal to the Fuhrer and obey their orders, without question. We had all sworn an oath. It was actually happening, now. What I had been trained to do and what I had dreaded. The moment had now arrived. I hoped God was looking the other way. I was about to commit a mortal sin. The taking of another life. One thing struck me as I hid in the ruins, the smell. When a building is rubble it smells completely different. Strange what runs through your head at a time like this. I found myself trying to remember what this building once was. I had no idea.
Our commanding officer was one Gunter Kane. He was a fiercely loyal twenty five year old Nazi who strongly believed in the cause and seemed to know no fear. We were all hidden behind a semi collapsed wall when he spoke to us all.
"They all must die. Every single one of these stinking communists who dare to invade the Fatherland and pollute it with their corruption and greed. Choose your targets carefully. This is not a drill. Aim for the chest. Once your target goes down, choose another target. I will shoot whichever one goes for the tank. You had better all hope that the tank is empty,” he spat the words out as if he were firing at the enemy.
No one replied. Gunter did not like us answering back, or asking questions. There were two jeeps, German ones with the Russian flag crudely painted over a swastika and a tank, a T40, next to the collapsed wall the soldiers were sitting on. They were talking casually amongst themselves, smoking and laughing. I imagined their cigarettes to be filled with victory rather than tobacco. We all checked our weapons and chose targets. Choosing who to kill did not feel real. I was somewhere else, dreaming about my next actions. In just the same way we did in training when we were aiming at targets. I could hear their voices and could see them acting as if everything were fine. I was not even sure if I could pull the trigger. But I knew I would have to. I did not want to die. I was sure Gunter would kill me if I did not fire. My heart was pounding in my chest and I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Everything seemed to slow down as I waited for Gunter's command. My victim was just a uniform, not a person. For a few seconds I firmly believed that.
"Ready, aim, fire"! Gunter whispered.
We all fired simultaneously. My target fell forwards and his body hit the ground. I felt nothing as he fell, why would I? I did not really feel as if I had done anything. All I had done was squeeze the trigger of my second hand rifle. I was not close enough to see any blood or anything else. As soon as the eight bodies fell the other soldiers immediately leapt up and pulled their rifles from their shoulders as they moved to find cover. Most of them were too slow. We all fired again and this time only three got away, I guessed now that there had been nineteen soldiers, not twenty. The smell of gunpowder filled my nostrils. The sound the rifles made was only a sort of popping noise. Quite a weak sound really. It did not sound like something that could have killed someone.
"ATTACK! KILL 'EM ALL! LEAVE NO MAN STANDING!" Gunter screamed, laughing.
Gunter was the first to move. He drew his Luger as he moved forward, pointing it at a Russian soldier and shooting him in the back, laughing as he did so. His smile exposed his yellow teeth and brown tongue. He fired his pistol until the chamber was empty. He spat on the dead, he, he, it spat on his victims. Gunter had lost whatever was left of his humanity. Laughing and spitting on corpses. He had lost his mind to National Socialism. His heart a swastika and his mind lost to the Fuhrer. The reds were here for revenge and we knew they would slaughter rape and kill. I knew this not to be merely propaganda. I had heard it first hand from witness’ who had fled. They were shot by their own Generals for desertion. What sort of world was this? Not one I wanted to live in.
"Disgusting red scum. How dare you invade the Fatherland, how dare you attack our beloved Berlin?” Gunter screamed.
He began to kick the soldiers dead body, an unbelievable site. This man was responsible for his soldiers and he was kicking a dead body. What sort of example was this to set his men? His eyes were bulging out of their sockets and there was saliva dribbling down his chin. He looked like a man possessed. This was something he enjoyed. Kicking a corpse. The more he kicked the corpse the more savage he became. I failed to understand what could make an ordinary man so full of hate. All of our officers had been shopkeepers and teachers before the war. Gentle people who you would say hello to. Now they all seemed so full of hate. Murdering people because someone told them to and actually enjoying it. Boys like me were bought up with the lies the Nazis had taught us. We were born in a depression that was caused by what happened to Germany after the Great War. But men like Gunter were insane. I really believed him and people like him to be insane. Hatred for his enemy which became insanity. Or was he frustrated because he knew the soldiers we had just murdered were part of a group that would soon defeat us? They would take whatever we had left. Our families, friends, belongings and probably our lives.
While Gunter was doing this the rest of my unit were firing their rifles at the two fleeing soldiers, shooting them in the back. This was when I realized what death actually was. I also realized I had just murdered two fellow human beings in cold blood. I did not fire another shot. I had Gunter in front of me kicking a corpse and the rest of my unit at my left side shooting two dead Russian soldiers. I felt like a spectator in some surreal play. Watching in horror as he realises what he is seeing is not an act. He is part of the play.
The rest of my regiment kept firing at the two Russian soldiers even after they had fallen to the ground. They were cut down like dogs. My regiment firing as if they were on a target range. They all had a look of savagery on their young faces. They seemed on the verge of hysteria. This was the first time any of us had seen any action and we were the victors. We were only boys who where doing what we had been shown. What did we know? I realized at that moment the world had gone mad. I had finally seen it for myself. All nineteen Russian soldiers were dead . I could now see their bodies close up. They were all lying face down in the debris of the ruined city. There was a small red hole in the body of each man, where their life had once been. The smell of gunpowder hung in the air. A lot of bullets had been fired. An eerie silence now hung round us, only broken by heavy breathing. No one spoke, I hoped all of my regiment felt like me. I had known them all a long time. We were all excited about being in the Hitler youth. It was a chance to meet other people your own age. We were treated like men, everyone was nice to us. We were trained and always praised for what we had done. We went camping and hiking together. But the words of my parents were always in my mind. Keep your heart and soul pure. Wear the uniform but do not believe what it stands for. Here we all were now. This was not a boys club anymore.
Blood had begun to trickle from underneath the bodies. This I was told was the exit wound, which normally left quite a big hole. I now felt as if I were as evil as the rest. I had killed because I had been told to do so. I had taken two lives to save my own skin. Would I be able to save my own soul?
"You three. You are with me in the tank", Gunter shouted, pointing at three members of my unit.
After killing the two soldiers I believed I had become a Nazi. Even though I was disgusted with the idea and what it stood for. Was this some sort of initiation into murder? It felt like it was to me.
Gunter could handle most machines, except planes. Someone had once told me he was in the Panzer division and I know he had been a sniper at the beginning of the war. He had also done interrogation. Something which I know he enjoyed. He then turned and spoke to me. I hoped my facial expression would not give him any clue as to my feelings. "You. You can lead your fellow soldiers. You are tall and blonde, like me. You have Aryan blood in your veins. You will lead your men in a two kilometre sweep around the aircraft fortress and kill anyone who should not be on Berlin’s streets. For the love of the Fatherland be gone"! Gunter said passionately.
For the love of the Fatherland? All that was left of our beloved Fatherland was rubble and memories.
Three boys killing everyone in a two kilometre radius? Only a mad fool could believe something like this to actually be possible.
Gunter turned and ran for the tank with his three disciples following him. They all got in the tank and headed towards the sound of gunfire. The T40 was dusty and dented. I felt sure there was blood on the tracks.
There were many small gunfights going on in every part of the city, as the Red Army slowly and purposely obliterated everything and everyone in their path. I never saw Gunter or the other three soldiers again. I found out that they were bombarded with bazookas less than an hour after they left us. A small group of German soldiers saw them and bombed the tank. After all it had Red Army markings on it. I felt pity for all of them, even a psycho like Gunter. Who knows what kind of man he would have been in a different life. I was also glad that he could not cause anymore suffering. As for my friends, at least they had died for a cause they believed in, no matter how misguided they were.
"We will do as we were ordered to do men. We will make our way back to the fortress, through the ruins and pick off any enemies we see. If we see a large group we will sneak past and find easier targets. Is that clear?" I asked, trying to sound brave.
They all nodded and saluted me. This was almost funny. Anyone watching would have thought we were playing soldiers. But I could see the bodies of the murdered Russians and it did not seem like a joke.
I looked at one of the soldiers, his name was Christian. He could not meet my gaze. Both his hands were shaking and I could hear his breathing. I looked at the other soldier, his name was Eric. He was standing rigidly upright and was not shaking, but he looked petrified. On the outside they were brave, loyal Nazis, on the inside they were just schoolboys. Whatever they were they had sworn an oath to a bigoted madman, and so had I. A man that looked like a politician. A man that only spoke of evil. I do not think he ever got his hands dirty.
"Christian. How do you feel?" I asked.
"I feel as if I have done my duty, sir."
"How do you feel, Eric?"
"I feel I am serving the Fuhrer and the Fatherland, sir."
Their replies filled me with shock and horror. They both had been completely brainwashed. I could not hold an honest conversation with two of my friends for fear of being shot. For treachery.
We saw no one on our way back to the aircraft fortress, luckily for us the Russians and the Allies had not yet reached this far into the city. Yet.
I knew they were close, the sounds of gunfire and explosions were growing louder with each passing hour.
Once inside the fortress I wished I was outside . The air inside was rank. It stank of sweat, urine, excrement, tobacco and bad cooking. But it was not just the smell of dirty people. It was the smell of misery and defeat. It was like waiting for certain death. No matter how strong this fortress was it would be broken eventually. It was filled with scared Berlin citizens and top Nazis. The Nazis were getting ready to flee the ruined city with whatever valuables they could carry. They were the real traitors. Self preservation and money. The war to some of these men had been one long party. Murder, women, money and a free living. I had seen them with women who looked like whores. Staggering drunkenly in hotels and in the street. They lived in the stolen houses of the dead. What sort of people were these? They were the ones we called sir and obeyed.
I usually slept in one of the corridors on the top floor, I felt safe up there. There were enormous guns on the roof for shooting down aircraft and many soldiers in the floors below in case the enemy got in. I fell into a restless sleep, the events of the day haunting my dreams. I saw the dead rise and look at me with hate. Gunter screaming at me to kill again and again. As the dead came for him. I also saw them as parents with young babies. Young children were calling me a murderer. They would never see their parents again because of me. What had I done?
The next morning I was abruptly awoken by one of the SS. He had the usual black uniform and the cold eyes and heartless expression. I always associated the SS with three things. Kidnapping, torture and murder.
"Wake up boy and follow me, quickly. Bring your weapon. Today will be the greatest day of your life,” he said sharply.
I followed him through the crowded corridors and down the stairs, littered with people, all scared, all needing a wash. The stench made me heave. It lingered in my nostrils long after I passed the source.
When we got outside the rest of my squad were waiting for me. They all looked extremely nervous. The SS did not bring you good news. There was a large black car parked and the SS officer was walking towards it. He opened the door and we all got in, without saying a word. I had been scared yesterday, but this was worse. At least a bullet from the enemy has some sort of honour attached to it. But this, a car drive with a man who had no conscience. I could feel my hand trembling. I wanted to run. Run away from the thought of being tortured and killed. But where could I run to?
This was a high ranking officers car. What were we doing in it? We were lucky if we drove anywhere, a jeep was the best transport I had ever known. We all had our rifles across our legs, the drive seemed to go on forever. We were all silent and extremely nervous. The roads we drove down I had never seen before. Things were different here. That much was obvious. There were small groups of soldiers standing guard at various points. They were visible to anyone passing. With all the enemy soldiers nearby this seemed insane.. It was odd, they seemed to be guarding ruined buildings. The road had been cleared of any rubble and looked as if it had been repaired. It also looked cleaner. Someone important must live nearby. I could see no point in what was being done here. It still looked like a city filled with ghosts. I wished I could remember what it had all looked like before the bombing. Its strange what fear does to you. Simple things become a strain and your old life seems to fade away.
When we finally reached our destination the car stopped abruptly and the SS man jumped out and opened the door to let us out. He actually opened the door for us.
"Get out quickly and follow me. Do exactly as I say. Is that clear?" He said abruptly.
We all nodded and followed him. I had met SS before and they all seemed like this one. Arrogant, cold hearted, evil and pathetic as well. Their uniforms seemed to be even more ludicrous than mine.
We had been walking for a few minutes when we happened upon something quite eerie. We were all standing in a well kept garden. It was quite big and the lawn well mown, all the flowers in bloom. There were benches strategically placed around the garden and they all had trees nearby to shelter them. This was strange, it was like stepping into another world. All of the concrete paths were swept and washed. Even the trees and plants looked clean. They were not covered in dust like the rest of the city. A few minutes ago we had been standing in ruins and all of a sudden this. The lost garden. What was it for? I had no idea. Yet .
"ATTENTION,“ the SS officer shouted.
We all stood to attention as we had been shown.
A few minutes later four tall soldiers appeared and behind them was a hunched figure in a baggy grey suit. He had greasy dark hair combed into a side parting. He was walking slowly, with both hands behind his back. I could see was of them was shaking and his head would suddenly twitch every few seconds. He looked like a senile old man let out for the day. Was he drunk? That would explain the shaking and twitching.
When he looked up I got the biggest fright of my life. It was the Fuhrer, Adolf Hitler himself. I had my Hitler youth pocketbook in my breast pocket. The one with all my writings and thoughts about Hitler, the war and Jews in it. I remembered one phrase I had used several times. I am not a good Nazi.
PART 2
I could not believe he was standing in front of me. I should have been in awe. But the more I found out about this man the more I despised him. I always though he was wrong in his views. I had been forced to join his youth league, how could I refuse?
It felt strange standing here, looking at him now he seemed so harmless. It did not seem possible that such a man could have committed so many atrocities. But he never really got his hands dirty. Other people did his bidding.
I do not believe this man could have physically killed anyone. His heart and soul were pure poison, I believed that. His political strength had kick started the country and made it all powerful. But at what price? How many had died unnecessarily for this man to see his evil dream become a reality. Or were they evil visions?
The way he looked and acted made him all the more evil. You believe in something but do not have the stomach to carry it out. Smile sweetly while your disciples murder. Blame your problems on someone else instead of taking the blame for your own actions. Germany had lost World War one. They had been defeated by the same people we were now fighting against. We had never had a war with Jews. Why pick on that particular race?
What was wrong with Jews? I had neighbours who were Jews and I was very fond of one of them, a girl called Natasha. She had been a bit of a bully, but we were best friends, then I had joined the Hitler youth and all Jews disappeared. I had kept my views and the views of my parents to myself and I knew there were others who agreed with me because of the numerous attempts on Hitler’s life. But they had all failed because here he was, standing in front of me. I had to cross my legs for fear of soiling my trousers. I had my notebook with me. I cursed the myself for deciding to write my thoughts down. But at the time I had thought I was certain to die, either by the red army or by my very own Nazis.
Hitler pinned a medal on the chest of two of my fellow Nazis congratulating them for their efforts. They were my fellow Nazis now because I had murdered as they had. I could not speak of them and me anymore.
He spoke very quietly, but very firmly, he had incredible confidence for such a feeble looking man. Maybe this was why he made women scream at his speeches.
“Well done boys. You have served the Fatherland well. Your unit destroyed a Russian tank and a small unit of soldiers. Your Fuhrer is proud of you. You brave young men are the only survivors. Your bravery is an example. An example of what our pure blood is capable of.”
Neither of my comrades replied, they were in awe of this sadist. Then he stepped in front of me and looked up into my eyes. I was looking into the eyes of a madman. It shook my hand with it’s trembling fist. Hitler looked tired, old, frail and utterly out of his mind. I was certain he was losing the plot, after all he had lost the war, that was plain to see. But his arrogance would not let him surrender.
“You are in charge of these brave soldiers, are you not? You have the look of the master race about you, my boy,” he said as he shook my hand.
Then to my horror he saw my journal sticking out of my breast pocket, he took it and opened it. I could not believe my own stupidity. I had been so absorbed in writing all of my thoughts and adventures down so I would not be labelled a Nazi and I was about to be executed by the first Nazi. Hitler pushed his greasy hair out of his face and opened my journal at the first page and began reading my personal details.
I had that sick feeling in my stomach again. My heart was pounding and my throat was dry. I put my hands behind my back because they had started to tremble. I suddenly had a thought. Maybe it would save me.
“Heil Hitler”, I shouted, saluting him.
Hitler looked straight at me, his face was almost laughable. I suddenly thought of that American comedian Charlie Chaplin, that moustache, why did he feel the urge to grow such a thing? Hitler looked at the first page of my journal that had all of my personal details on it. He signed it and put it back in my pocket, then pinned a medal on my chest.
“Mein kampf”, he said as he patted my notebook.
He then moved along the line of boy soldiers.. I had stared death in the face and got its autograph. I was still shaking. But I was also still alive.
Once Hitler had handed out all of the medals he shuffled off back to his bunker and we were led out of the garden of Eden and back to the long black car. No one said a word, I was still in shock after what had just happened and the rest of my unit were in awe. We were all petrified of the SS officer. The car door opened and we all got in. He slammed it shut behind us, then got in the front, slamming the door behind him. His eyes seemed to bore into us as he looked round, his enraged features taking us all in. He made eye contact with everyone of us, turned back round, started the car and began driving back to the fortress.
As we were driving back I could hear the sounds of gunfire and explosions all around, but most were distant. I did not feel scared anymore. I had survived a battle with a tank and been chauffeur driven by the SS to meet the Fuhrer.
We were driving down a road with burnt out buildings on either side when a crack suddenly appeared in the windscreen. The SS officer had been shot. The bullet blew a large lump out of the back of his head that covered us all in blood splatter and bits of skull. The inside of someone’s head was horrible to behold. The bullet also penetrated the chest of Hans Schmultz, a boy I had known for the last five years. He was a good Nazi, having believed everything he had been told. He was now dead. He had died for a cause he believed in at the age of fifteen. Another young life Hitler had destroyed. At that moment I wished I had broken the Fuhrers neck instead of saluting him. But I had not and now it was now too late to alter what I had done.
The car veered to the left hitting a wall and we were all thrown forward. Luckily the SS officer had been driving slowly and no one was injured. I felt as if I could not move.
I could not take my eyes of the SS officers head. He had been shot by a sniper. There were snipers all over the city, both ours and our enemies. I was starting to be confused who my enemy actually was. The Nazis or the Russians.
Suddenly I heard shouting and that bought me out of my daze, the voices were coming from outside and I realized I had to move. We had been told that our enemies took no prisoners. They would hack us to pieces as soon as they saw us. I opened the door and ran for my life. I could see soldiers approaching now, running towards us, shouting for us to stop. They were pointing their guns at us. I turned and ran, I had no intention of surrendering to certain death.
I ran towards some ruined buildings that were more like piles of rubble, hoping I could lose myself amongst the graveyard of buildings. I could hear the pop, pop, pop of bullets being fired. The remaining members of my regiment were crouching behind the car, firing at the enemy. But the car was not bullet-proof and one of them fell to the ground screaming in agony, clutching his stomach. The other two just kept firing, missing their targets.
I could feel bullets whiz past me but did not stop, I just kept on running hoping I would not get shot. Running from side to side was something we had been taught in basic training, it made it harder to shoot you, so I did this. It worked, the Nazis had taught me something worth knowing. I could now hear the noise of machine gun fire behind me and then it suddenly stopped. It could only mean one thing, the last remaining members of my regiment had been killed. I now fully intended to run back to the fortress and spend my remaining days there before the Allied soldiers either captured it or obliterated it.
Voices were ahead of me so I decided to hide. Just as I had begun to despair I would end up another dead soldier I saw somewhere I could hide. There was some wood lying on the top of a pile of rubble . It looked like a broken wardrobe or cupboard so I pulled it on top of me and hid underneath it, praying I would not be found. I got my notebook out of my pocket and began to write everything down that had happened since Gunter had taken the tank. Writing helped calm me, it always had. I could escape from what was happening around me. Putting my thoughts on paper took me away from the real world and its horrors.
It took me several hours to write everything down and when I emerged from my hiding place it was getting dark. Patience had saved me, or so I thought.
I hoped I could sneak back to the fortress now, looking round carefully, I saw no one. All I could hear was the occasional sound of gunfire, but I had grown used to this. I began to walk through the rubble slowly, looking round and listening to determine if there were any soldiers nearby, I detected none. I had been walking for several minutes when my luck suddenly ran out. I was approaching a wall when a soldier with a snipers rifle slung over his shoulder suddenly appeared. He was a giant of a man, probably nearly seven feet tall. He had a bushy beard and his hair was down past his shoulders. His uniform was so dirty I could not tell what army he was from. He reminded me of a wolf, hunting its prey without mercy. This man looked as if he had been born into war. What kind of soldier would look like this? He was staring at me, smiling. I could not move, his piercing gaze pinning me to the spot. The last thing I remember was his big fist connecting with my nose, then everything went black.
When I came to I was in a room with a lot of other soldiers. All were looking dishevelled and broken. I was lying on a dirty, dusty floor in what looked like part of the fortress I had been staying in.
“Where are we?” I said to a fat Nazi sitting next to me.
“In the hands of our enemies my boy. You were bought in here by a giant red devil. We are all awaiting death. I will welcome it. We have lost the war and our Fuhrer took his own life,“ the officer said tearfully.
I could not believe it. Hitler commit suicide? The man thought he was better than God. I wished he were alive so he could answer for what he had done.
“Are we in the fortress and where is everyone else?” I said worried.
“We are in the fortress, indeed. The Russians overpowered us and fought their way in. Most of the soldiers were killed, except for us. Many civilians were shot. Anyone who was German were killed. The slave workers have been released. I think we are only alive for interrogation,“ the fat man replied.
The rest of the room was silent. Just then I heard the jangle of keys in the door. Looking round I saw a young British Officer standing there. He was probably only a few years older than me. He was very clean cut and looked quite the gentleman. He beckoned for me, smiling. I reluctantly stood up and walked towards him. Slowly and fearfully I walked closer too him, stepping round the soldiers on the floor. I walked out of the door without looking back. The young officer shut the door and locked it. I thought my time had come. I followed the young soldier through the corridors. It was eerily silent. I was now petrified. The corridors were full of enemy soldiers. Some were lying on the floor asleep but they all had one thing in common. They all seemed to be looking at me. I did not make eye contact. I just followed the young British soldier along the many corridors until we came to a large room.
The door had been removed and there were signs inside the room of an explosion. I believe this room had been a stronghold and I imagined some of the top Nazis had barricaded themselves in here. Whatever happened they were dead now and I feared I might join them.
There was a tall, thin man in his fifties sitting behind a desk, smiling at me. He beckoned me towards a chair. I sat down.
“So you are not a good Nazi then?“ he said, still smiling.
“What?” was all I could think to say.
“You speak English I take it. After your references to Shakespeare and Dickens,“ the old man said.
“Yes sir. I have relatives who are English but I can hardly remember them. I only remember the beauty of their books. My father was a German Officer in the first world war and he fell in love with an English nurse. My mother used to read Dickens to me but I could never understand Shakespeare.”
“That is quite a story, boy. I was in the trenches. I should like to meet your parents. But first young Vaughn here has a few questions for you. As for your diary, well your story telling is not bad. A bit of work required but I love the description of Hitler. You know he is dead?“ the old man said smiling.
“Yes. A fat man in the cell I was in told me,” I replied.
“You are either a very good liar or you are telling the truth. Whatever it is Vaughn will find out. He is a bit like your old friend Kane but does not enjoy his work, as much. I shall leave you in young Vaughn’s capable hands. Nice to have met you young man.” The old man stood up, smiling and walked out. Vaughn now walked forward and sat where the old man had been sitting.
He smiled at me and spoke. “Do not look so worried Tuomas. I am an interrogator and soldier. Not a torturer and murderer. I have read your book, I can speak German, French and Italian. I work closely with the General. The man who you were just speaking to, I am puzzled. Why did you write downs things that could have easily got you killed? Seems strange to me. If you are not a Nazi what are you?” Vaughn said.
“For as long as I can remember my parents have always told me that the Nazis were evil. My parents hated them but told me never to speak out against them. My father helped smuggle Jews out of the country and I was the family safeguard. The proud Nazi boy. But I have not seen my parents for a long time”.
“Really? A hero soldier who helped Jews. An English mother and you some kind of double agent. Quite a story and you are quite the storyteller,” Vaughn said mockingly. As he said this he threw something at me. It was my notebook. I had not even missed it. The constant throbbing in my head from the bear punch earlier and my current situation had been my only thoughts.
“Why are you questioning me? I am just a foot soldier. There must be high ranking officers you could interrogate,” I said.
My mind was starting to clear now and I felt more relaxed.
“There are and they will be. We need you for something else. But you need to convince me you are genuine.”
“How am I supposed to do that and what could you possibly need me for?”
“Tell me all,” Vaughn replied bluntly.
So I began.
PART 3
“You read my notebook then?” I said.
“All of it. I see Hitler even signed it for you,” Miller replied.
“That’s right, he did.”
“There are only a few British officers in Berlin. The Russians are everywhere. If you’re not with us you’re as good as dead,” Miller said.
His penetrating eyes unnerved me and I knew convincing him would not be easy.
“Have you done any checks on me?”
“There is nothing to check. Everything has been blown up. Being German is not a good thing at the moment. The whole world hates you. Even Nazi sympathisers are quiet at the moment. The few British officers that are here think you would be useful.”
“For what? You’re not really telling me anything,” I said.
“Tell me your story. Do not ask anymore questions.”
“I was born,”
Miller interrupted me before I could finish.
“Not your life story. We want to know your views on Hitler, the Nazis and the war. Why you are not a good nazi and whether or not you miss your Jewish neighbours,” Miller said.
“I have been in the Hitler youth movement ever since I can remember. Our neighbours were Jews and they had a daughter my age. They were not practicing Jews. Their religion was unknown to me. My parents knew they were Jewish, they had all been friends for a long time. Then the nazis came and took them away. It was a mad time. You had to be careful of everything you said and did. People vanished,
people were shot in the street. I was educated on propaganda and the only good people were nazis. Everyone else was corrupt, greedy and raped women and children. I was shocked that the world was such a monstrous place. I felt lucky to be a German. I knew my mother was English so I asked her about life in England. It was a long conversation. What she told me I found hard to swallow. But, I loved her and trusted her. Do you know where she is?”
“We only know about the prisoners here. We do not trust the Russians anymore than we trust the nazis. The Russian soldiers hate us, but they would not risk doing anything to us, we hope.”
For the first time I noticed how nervous Miller really was. I had first took it to confidence. The interrogator trying to look calm and controlled. In reality he was trying to compose both himself and his nerves.
“I know what the nazis have done. Millions have died because of Hitler. I hope the world realises that not all Germans are nazis. Hitler betrayed everyone.”
“This is not a courtroom for you to defend your country. The German people voted for the nazis and they got what they asked for. For the last time, we want your story. You have to convince us you are genuine, otherwise you’ll disappear.”
Miller’s words sent a chill down my spine. Everyone I had ever cared about had disappeared. The world had indeed gone mad. I knew him to be right, of course. The nazis were to blame and I was dressed in a nazi uniform.
“Its difficult for me to convince you I am genuine. I could tell you everything I think and know and you could dismiss everything.”
“We could, but it would not be in our best interests to do that. We need to bad nazis like you to help us find all the loyal nazis that got away.”
“I do not know them. As I have already told you, I’m a foot soldier. You must know that.”
The entire conversation was not making sense to me. Miller had read my diary and now seemed to be asking me a lot of pointless questions.
“What do you think, General?”
The door was suddenly thrown open and a tall, hard faced man strode in. He looked like a veteran who had seen a lot of action.
“I think he is the real deal. Believed him to be so after I read that diary of his. A loyal nazi would have to be pretty stupid to carry that around with him.”
“Excuse me for saying this, but this all appears to be nonsense.”
“When we ask a question, young man we do not just listen to your answers. We study the way you sit, talk, tone of voice, reactions, eye movement. Tell him why he is here, Miller,” the General said.
The General’s statement shocked me. Surely if they were interrogating me they would not help me with the interrogation. Feelings of confusion were beginning to overwhelm me. Maybe that was their intention.
“To start with you will be an interpreter. We have to question all of the nazis we have captured. The Russians seem intent on killing everyone and stealing all the glory and valuables. There is strong concern that The Third Reich could start up again somewhere else. Many of the top nazis have gone. You’ve lived the nazi lie, so you will be invaluable to us, young man,” Miller said.
In all the time Miller had been speaking to me he had sat rigidly still, both arms leaning on the desk. He only moved when the General came in, but he did not salute him.
The General’s tone never changed as he spoke. He gave the impression he had done this many times before. I trusted neither of the men in the room with me, yet I was glad I was here with them and not the Russians.
“So, you want to translate, for now?” I asked.
“We need to interrogate all of the nazis you were imprisoned with earlier. You need to be prepared. Torture is always on the table when we want quick answers and need to be certain of the truth. Miller can speak German, so he will be interrogating with the Russians. You will be interrogating with me.”
“Will I be staying here?”
“You will be staying in an area of this building with Miller and myself. You will of course be in a locked room. You will be given civilian clothes and all the necessary paperwork you need.”
“Paperwork I need?”
“You are a child, but still a nazi, good or bad. You are a prisoner of war. You fought for the nazis and you killed Russian soldiers. You need protection.”
The cold, hard face of the General was staring at me intently. I did not know whether to laugh or cry at his last statement. I was a prisoner that was helping the enemy.
I felt lost. The nazis needed to be caught and punished, I knew that. If I helped the allies I would be betraying all of my friends in the Hitler youth movement. They were all boys like me who had been lied to by everyone they trusted. My parents had saved me, I knew that. If it had not been for them I might have believed the lie.
The General was still staring at me, his eyes seemingly trying to penetrate my thoughts.
“I will cooperate with you fully, sir.” My ears barely recognised my trembling voice.
“You have made the right decision, Tuomas. I realise not all Germans are bad and not all of them are nazis. I must warn you that every move you make will be watched. You try and run or betray us in any way and you’ll disappear, clear?”
My legs began to tremble and then my hands seemed to join in.
“Yes, sir,” was all I could manage to say.
“I realize this is all very traumatic for you. Realizing your world was a lie, made up by a bunch of , well.” The General paused, his eyes dropping as he rubbed his chin.
“Can’t really think of a word to describe the head nazis. Evil, barbaric, inhuman. None of them come close. Beyond words, beyond human comprehension. Nothing seems fitting.”
He never took his eyes off me. Every time he spoke he was testing my reaction. Then it hit me. I had not been asked here to see if I would cooperate. It had been a test. It was like a job interview. If you passed you got the job. If you failed you got the bullet.
“We need you to start right away. Wait here a moment.”
He got up and marched to the door behind me. Miller was standing by the door. I could hear the two of them whispering but could not make out what they were saying. When they had finished speaking Miller rushed out of the room and the General returned to his seat in front of me. His cold eyes still trying to penetrate my thoughts.
The room was silent for several minutes until Miller threw the door open and shoved in a short, fat nazi.
“This fat wretch is in fact an SS man. His foot soldier uniform is a joke. We think it was the only change of clothes he could find to fit him,” Miller said, his voice full of scorn.
“He is to be your first interview, Tuomas. I should point out that all interviews will be recorded and checked. Are you ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
The General nodded at me and then at Miller who left the room.
I set my mind to the task ahead, I had to. My life depended upon it.
PART 4
A sneer spread across the SS officer’s face when he saw me. Knowing the man standing before had once been an SS officer filled me with fear and loathing. Men like him were capable of anything. His gaze suddenly dropped, I could see his hands trembling as he fell into the seat the Major shoved him towards.
“You have no right to treat me like this. I am a member of the SS, the elite.”
“You speak English very well , Hauer,” the Major said.
“Everything I do I do well, old chap.”
Hauer amazed me, even in defeat he was defiant. His legs were trembling now, as well as his hands and he looked close to tears. He was a pathetic sight, a broken man still trying to cling to what used to be. As the Major was stared him down, a tear rolled down Hauer’s face.
A loud bang filled the room as the Major slammed his fist down on the table. Hauer nearly leapt out of his skin. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. The Major stared at Hauer and Hauer could not meet his gaze.
“I do believe you are going to tell me everything you know, Hauer. My name is Major Cantrell. My young assistant is Tuomas. He is a victim of your Third Reich. He is on our side. You will tell us all you know of the escape plans of the nazi’s we are looking for.”
“Traitor,” Hauer hissed at me.
“You are the traitor, Hauer. You betrayed humanity and your country when you became a willing nazi,” I shouted back.
Everyone used to fear the SS. What made men like Hauer think they were free to do whatever they wished to whoever they wished.
“It was idiots like you boy that made us lose the war,” Hauer shouted back in his unsteady voice.
“The maniac Hitler and all his perverted followers lost the war. The nazis reduced us to this. Betraying friends and family, and for what?” I screamed at him.
“You are a stupid boy, stupid. How can you work alongside these people?”
Hauer said, waving at Cantrell.
“These people did not murder my friends and deceive my country.”
“Jews and lesser people ruined the fatherland, you idiot. We were trying to create a better world,” Hauer said.
I could see his confidence was coming back and I was beginning to lose the argument.
“Jews and lesser people fought in the trenches for Germany. Lesser people beat your disgusting nazi army, throughout the world. You lost, you. I met your beloved Fuhrer and he gave me a medal. What did he give you?” I snapped.
Hauer’s face dropped, but his eyes still stared into mine.
“You lie, you never met the Fuhrer. He was the greatest man of our time and he was murdered by his enemies. He would not kill himself,” Hauer shouted. His voice was faltering as the truth was finally finding its way into his thick skull.
“When I met him he looked like a little lost fool. Not the proud man in all those posters and books. He gave me a medal and signed my notebook, look here.”
I showed him the medal and Hitler’s signature.
His fat face froze, I knew he believed me. My fist’s clenched and I instantly felt like punching this stupid man.
He raised his sneering face at me and spoke, “you are scum, boy. Scum.”
“What did you do in the war? Where did you go? I expect you strutted about in your expensive leather coat and tortured people. Am I right?”
“I served under the greatest man the world has ever seen. No one can take that away from me. Not you or the dogs you now serve. Hiel Hitler,” Hauer said, saluting and stamping his feet.
Cantrell who had stood silently by punched Hauer in the ribs, Hauer doubled over clutching his ribs in agony.
“You will never salute that man again. Your time is over. You may live your life in prison somewhere, or I could kill you right now and dump your body somewhere,” Cantrell said calmly.