He was… he wasn't sure what he was now. 'East Germany' seemed to fit him until then, though it would have been 'Middle Germany' if everyone wasn't so pro-Polish and anti-Prussian. Europe'd always been full of bastards.
He really needed a name, now that it was becoming clear that the Soviets were just as stubborn as everyone had known they would be.
East Germany looked across the patrolled barrier, marked by signs and men with guns. He smoked a cigarette which, as time wore on, would have been more satisfying as a bartering tool than filling his lungs.
Under Hitler, he'd quit because it was a mandate. Now he smoked because he didn't care much anymore.
He was running out of food, of jobs, of people as they fled into sections owned by the other allies. Truth be told, those guys weren't much friendlier. They were sure as hell not Russian, though, so it wasn't a bad choice.
East Germany watched as the Americans and British flew over the soldiers, and drop supplies with little regard for the Russian 5-year plan. He exhaled, and wondered if they cared about the sort of thing they were creating.
Knowing Europe like he did, he was sure they didn't.