A/N: My first real foray into the Hetalia fandom. Warning: It may deal with sensitive material as it takes place during Kristallnacht and has (very slight) suggestive themes.
This looks so much shorter when I uploaded it than it did in Wordpad! There are still many things I don't like about this (I'm much better at writing poetry than I am at writing stories), but I have been trying to become a better story writer. Constructive criticism is definitely appreciated and even encouraged! And wow, why does this site cut out every line break I try to make? Please excuse the breaks I finally got to be accepted. Ah, I'm nervous... Here we go!
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It was November 9, 1938 in Ober Ramstadt, Germany. Screams and shouts pierced the air; smog and smoke billowed out in blankets. The night was cold and dry, the fires bright and blazing. All around him, there was a systematic destroying of property as the Schutzstaffel smashed in the windows of Jewish houses, shops, and synagogues too close to non-Jewish property.
Ludwig grasped his sledgehammer, palms sweating against the smooth wood of the handle despite the cool air. His orders were specific: Jewish businesses and houses could be destroyed, but not looted. Any foreigners, including Jewish ones, wandering about were not to be met with violence, and synagogue archives were to be given to the Sicherheitsdienst. No measures that could endanger German life or property were to be taken.
Adrenaline and fear pumped throughout his body and his breathing was ragged. While no orders for violence against Jews were given, and, in fact, it was ordered that the Jews were to be sent to local jails, echoes of screams died heavily on his ears, resonating within him as sledgehammer met glass.
"No, don't! I'm not - I -"
Crack.
A shrill scream.
One of many instances of violence. Ludwig adverted his eyes, forcing himself to remain calm though he had not been calm to begin with. The Jews and he weren't so different, in the end, but to voice that thought would be akin to suicide. He couldn't do that, not when he was one of the Schutzstaffel, completely loyal to der Führer. He was blond haired and blue eyed, loyal, intelligent, and physically strong. The Aryan ideal.
Ludwig hurried past the spectacle he didn't want to see, taking care to destroy only known Jewish property as he went. The sledgehammer was his heavy heart. Its impact against fragile glass and steady stone shook him as it shook buildings. Shards of broken glass crunched under his boots as Ludwig moved, trying to complete his task quickly. He soon passed a burning synagogue. Sulfuric soot and smoke built up in the night air, catching in his breath and causing him to choke and sputter. The hot flames licked at his feet greedily, wanting only to consume.
Nearby, a blond woman wept loudly by the trampled body of a young boy, her face obscured by her radiant hair. The unorthodox sight caused Ludwig to pause in his systematic destruction. German life...
"H-Help me!" The woman cried out desperately, catching sight of him as she lifted her head up. Her voice was choked with tears. Her eyes were wide and brown, tear-rimmed. They were startling in their resemblance to the eyes of someone else...
"Help me, Ludwig!" Tear-rimmed wide brown eyes, gazing up at him pitifully.
"Again? Honestly, there is no end to your getting hurt!" His words were scolding, but his expression soft as he inspected his comrade's injured arm. Ludwig could never stay angry for long around the other man. Perhaps it was his charisma, or his playful coyness that was so uncharacteristic of the Schutzstaffel, but Ludwig knew this was a person whom could only be treasured.
"What happened?" Ludwig asked, concern lacing his voice. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. It couldn't happen this way. Precautions had been taken, to keep the Germans safe. He would know.
"My son, he - " The woman paused as a dark shadow fell over her. It was the shadow of a Schutzstaffel officer, his civilian clothing doing nothing to cloak the ominous air that shrouded his form like an impenetrable cloud.
"You filthy Jew," he snarled, as if it disgusted him to even speak to her. "Forget your son. You're going to the local jail. I would get rid of you now if I could, but an order is an order."
The woman gave Ludwig a meek, wavering smile as she stood, tears flowing down her cheeks like a small streams. She knew of his bewilderment at the truth. She had hoped the officer wouldn't return so quickly, of course, but fortune was against all of her kind.
"But how?" Ludwig couldn't help but ask, voice trembling slightly. "Your hair..."
"Your uniform looks good on you. But it would look even better on the floor." His comrade's voice, a smooth purr in his ear. Slim fingers fiddling with tiny buttons and the smell of cologne: of a damp spring morning, of daisies and sweet blossoms after the rain. Ludwig stiffened, startled, but not entirely against the contact.
"I fell in love with a Jewish man," she said simply. At that moment, Ludwig felt his heart skip a beat, burning bile rising in his throat. He may not have known the woman, but her eyes, her story... It was all too familiar, and he couldn't help but envision someone else entirely being taken away. He bit his lip until he could taste copper blood to keep from saying anything, watching as the Schutzstaffel officer grabbed the woman by the arm roughly. She was unceremoniously dragged off through the rubble and glass littering the desecrated streets, and the burning fire of the synagogue crackled brightly in farewell.
Ludwig watched the woman's unresisting form grow smaller until it disappeared entirely, obscured by distance and smoke. Immediately afterward, he noisily emptied the contents of his stomach onto the ground, his eyes blurring with tears. He hadn't followed, hadn't attempted to help her. What could he have done? He was one of the Schutzstaffel, completely loyal to der Führer. He was blond haired and blue eyed, loyal, intelligent and physically strong. The Aryan ideal.
"Help me..." A tiny, gasping voice came from the still body of the young boy that had been left behind. Even such a young one could feel Death's shadow hovering over him. Ludwig paused for a moment, hesitating and debating within himself on what to do.
He chose to do nothing. Trying to pretend that he hadn't heard the voice, that he couldn't feel the shadow, Ludwig walked away as quickly as he could until the crackling and heat was but a mere shadow in his mind.
He felt sick. Self-hatred wrenched his gut painfully, like a knife being twisted around in a festering wound, and he doubled over, vomiting again. In the end, the Jews and he weren't so different after all. But there was one fundamental difference between them: He was coward. Listless and shaking, Ludwig gazed down at the shards of glittering glass poking through his bile. A solemn face stared back at him, distorted in pieces and entirely unfamiliar.
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A/N2: Since I find people are overly interested in that part... The 'comrade' can be whomever you like, though I'll admit I was thinking of Italy when I wrote it. His being in the SS makes no real sense though, so I tried to keep the interpretation somewhat open. xD
Thank you lots for reading, and reviews are greatly appreciated! :) I sincerely hope you enjoyed the story despite its flaws.