The house was a flurry of activity with my subordinates rushing by me, a few of the higher ranked officers such as myself, were shouting orders back and forth to the lower soldiers. I shouldered past a few rookies who were scurrying past me to reach the man calling for them.
The small house wasn't ment to hold this many people running in and out, and a few of the older officers were beginning to pull a few of them out, sending them to the next location with some supervisors. It was a normal house located in the outskirts of a once bustling little town. So full of life and cheer where everybody knew everyone and exchanged greetings and goodbyes. And a birthday was an event where cakes were exchanged and love radiated off the streets and hung in the air like a fine perfume. The houses were spaced to allow the farmers their space and the women their clothes lines. In the town square was a beautiful tree, old and still growing, its green leaves only adding more beauty to the quaint town.
But, since the start of the war, the streets have turned dim, the windows are blacked out. The windows to a few businesses have been shattered and the happiness is only found behind tightly locked doors and buried under a mountain of worries. Birthdays are still celebrated, although, less as 'your another year older' and more of, 'your still in town'.
The people's once bright cheery faces are now sunken with lines of worry and creases of stress. The streets are swept by the lonely wind echoing from some desolate place. It seems as though when the sun comes out, it no longer shines; only benefiting the crops in their garden.
I tried not to think about it though; what we had done to this once joyous place. Although, I couldn't help but wonder if perhaps the house we stood in now once hosted parties and celebrations where the townsfolk gathered. They'd celebrate with food and laughter, kind words and brilliant smiles. Their dances were bouncy and quick, life and energy bouncing off the walls and resonating through the house. Then they'd settle around the table to pray for the food, bowing their heads with their hands interlocked. After the blessings they'd start in on the food; the cakes from the elderly woman, the bread from the baker, the rolls and butter from the farmer family, all of the creations from their network of townspeople.
But now we stood here, eyes narrowed and noses wrinkled, only out for blood. Like dogs we would search this place, tearing away at the seams of memories to find them. When we did we would take them and send them away, far away from their home, possibly with their family, probably not though. There they would likely die, the number that returned home was miniscule compared to those who died.
"Ludwig!" I was ripped from my thoughts by the sound of my name. A glance to my left revealed an officer just above me was pointing to the stairs, "You take them up." I nodded silently in response and pushed my way to the stairs.
At the stairs a small pool of new recruits were awaiting my orders, trying to cover their nervousness and excitement at their first task. Truthfully it sickened me a bit to see someone enjoy such a job as the one I possessed. Then again, they would learn, soon they would understand why my eyes had lost their young light they once possessed.
With a swift motion of my hand they straightened up and followed quickly to march up the stairs behind me. Without turning, I yelled for them to search the rooms, stealing into the last room of the narrow corridor the stairs had led us to.
The small room was less than extravagant with its shabby bed, the blankets rumpled a bit, nightstand with a dusty lamp, and wooden chest butted against the rough wood of the foot board. Across the room from the pathetic sleeping area was a large wardrobe, reaching up to the ceiling, its doors a dark mahogany. The edges were clean and polished, unlike the rest of the furniture in the room.
A window was placed beside the nightstand, framed by delicate lace curtains, swaying a bit in time with the wind seeping in through the un-insulated window. Outside the glass the pale moon was visible, its luminescent light bathing the green landscape in its blanched glow. The door to the house was hanging wide open now as a few officers still scurried in and out. The silence had long since been interrupted by my fleet's loud footsteps and booming voices; yelling back in forth commands in German.
The walls gave a warm glow as I switched on the lamp, its bulb shining brightly and gaily. Honey colored walls were bathed in the lamp light and displayed several dents and age marks.
I approached the bed and slipped a hand under the sheets, pressing my palm to the mattress and grimaced at the warmth I felt. Accompanied with the shallow indentation of a person's body, it was easy to tell that someone had been resting there recently.
It was probably the one thing I could truly admit to hated doing, everything else in this world seemed relatively bearable. Just imagine, finding them, a young girl or boy, an ambitious teen, an expecting woman, a hopeful man, even a child no more than two. Picture them for a moment, entire lives, full of stories, memories and cherished loves. Imagine all of that; gone.
All because of you.
That was part of my job description, find them and bring them to where they need to go. At least, according to the ideals of my government currently; and most seem to be going along with it. Although, perhaps I'm demeaning some of my level headed comrades in my country; the number who know what is going on must stop.
They could use a man like me, I was sure of it. I was strong, pushing myself in training everyday. I was trustworthy, never have I told a lie, nor told a secret. More importantly; I'm highly ranked. Getting on the inside could benefit them greatly.
The whole thing was perfect, all I needed to do was find their underground operation and convince them to trust me. Then I could do what I wanted to, I could save people. I could save lives, save children, woman, men, teens, and so many others.
Just the idea made my stomach flip in excitement, the situation seemed so appealing. But, the only attribute I held that eclipsed the whole thing, stopped the entire thing from coming true.
I wasn't afraid to admit it; I was a coward.
If I tried to pretend I didn't find the people I knew I would find; I would be charged with treason and then who knows what they'd do to me. And I was deathly afraid of that, no matter how strongly I resented what I was doing. Every night when I returned to my shared home with my brother, I would curse myself for following along with the twisted ideology like just another mindless droid.
Turning on my heel I made my way to the wardrobe and placed a gloved hand on the handle. With a quick tug the door opened wide for me, silently and quickly, a sign that it was new.
Inside the wardrobe all hung neatly were a succession of coats and sweaters, a few dresses were pressed against the walls as well. Along the bottom of the smooth wardrobe were boots, all lined up neatly. The leather of them shone like brand new boots, probably freshly polished. I reached out to grasp the top of a hanger, sliding the coat back to push the others away.
As he coats moved back, the skirts of the coats and sweaters caught on the brims of the boots, snagging and then flopping back off. But as I pushed away the heavy fabrics, I began to notice with a heavy heart how some of the sleeves that hadn't touched the boots were swaying as though hit too. The sight that greeted me was one I should have been accustomed to; unfortunately I suppose I was a bit too sentimental with this. As I always had problems looking to see their cowering forms, hiding as though I were the grim reaper himself. Then again, what with these times, I might as well have carried a scythe and wore a dark cloak.
The three girls gazed at me, terror swirling in their eyes. One looked around thirteen, her brunette and blonde highlighted hair tied back carefully in a ponytail. Her grey eyes stared up at me, wide and fearful, her hands clutching at the arm of the woman beside her. The other, with her arm around the smallest one, looked like she was in her early twenties. She had long curly brunette hair that tumbled around her shoulders, and green eyes widened and watching me fearfully. The baby, no more than six months, was tucked under her arm, laying its head on her breast. Its wispy crown of matching brown hair was tucked neatly under a hand knitted hat, a thumb stuck in its mouth like a stopper. The child's eyes opened due to the light, revealing her large grey eyes, mimicking those the young teen possessed.
Upon all three of the female's shirts was a slightly dirty yellow star.
"An den Füßen." I commanded, trying not to sound as harsh as most of my subordinates normally yelled at the Jews they would find. The woman untangled her arm from the girl's grasp and tried to help her out, only to have her stop, almost toppling over the boots. The girl's vision was blurry, unable to see everything with the tears gathering in her eyes. The sight made my heart wretch and I couldn't stand passively anymore. Gently, I took a hold of the younger girl's waist and lifted her out, placing her softly on her feet, giving her a quick sympathetic look. She stared up at me in a mixture of confusion and terror. Before she could say anything, I turned back and held out my arms for the child.
The woman got a slightly frantic look on her face, glancing over to her sister or daughter-God knows how they were related they looked so alike- only to see her unharmed. Her eyes were clouded with grief, not wanting to give up the child. I stayed quiet and left my arms outstretched for the baby, smiling gently. After a few minutes of internal battle, she hesitantly passed me the warm bundle, and I retreated with the baby in my arms, turning to deliver her into the arms of the younger girl before the older woman could grow worrisome for it. The blonde and brown haired girl held the baby close, cradling her against her chest and watched the woman still in the wardrobe anxiously.
I leaned in again and lifted the woman out of the wardrobe by the waist and set her down gently. When she was standing she took the baby from the girl and took her hand. "D-danke…" She murmured to me, keeping her voice low, knowing I'd get in trouble if they knew I had showed even that subtle display of kindness to Jews.
Her gaze, the fear subsiding a bit and turning to a gentle shade of thankfulness made my heart plummet. I shook my head sadly, "Nein," My voice was soft as well, knowing that my subordinates would begin piling into the room at any second. Just as I opened my mouth to say more, a voice boomed over mine.
"Ludwig! You found them!" A hand clapped down on my shoulder and suddenly the women were being shoved rudely into the hall, along with a few nasty snickers.
The woman held the baby tightly, glancing back at me helplessly, her eyes pleading and frightened. It was painfully obvious she knew I could do nothing, yet my stomach still twisted around. My chest felt heavy with guilt as she gasped when yet another harsh push was delivered to her shoulder, jolting the child in her arms and making the girl at her side cry out a bit when she hit the wall.
Again, here was that wave of ultimate guilt at what I had done. That time though, it ripped at me worse than it normally did, whenever a child was there it would do that. Just the thought that it didn't even have a chance for survival, perhaps if she left it with some of the officers at the car…one of them hides children and sneaks them out. It was the only glimmer of hope that gave a little slack to my stomach, but not much at all.
All I heard was a loud shrieking cry of the child, knowing the mother was probably being taken to the car and it was hungry, or tired. The sound made my heart strings hurt, like being pulled out by pliers.
"Nice work, Luddy." One of the officers nodded at me, and I forced a small smile and nodded back.
'Its just like camouflage' I told myself, 'just for survival. That's all. One day I'll be able to show my true colors. Just stay hidden for now…' I chanted, trying to block out the sound of my heart ripping in two.
The moon was still in the sky, almost mocking me with its bright light filtering down onto the dark road. Our military truck, filled with people who's small cries were almost inaudible, bounced and bumped along the hilly countryside road.
The summer night was another warm one and the windows were cracked, although it hardly helped the temperature of the truck. My coat was slung over my shoulders and I was leaning back in my seat casually. Beside me the driver happened to be my older brother, Gilbert.
My brother happened to be much more laid back than me, and tended to be less opinionated. Gilbert was a reckless man, never quite clean in his work or appearance. His silver, tousled tresses could testify to that. But nonetheless he was my brother and could make good wurst and get the girls.
As of then Gilbert was driving the truck with one hand on the wheel and the other elbow against the window. In his mouth was a glowing cigarette, the smoke wafting off of it slowly. His uniform coat was pooling at his waist, showing off his black undershirt and tight, muscular arms. The man's crimson eyes were fixated on the road, navigating the truck to where we would meet with the cattle car.
"Hey Gil?" I started, looking over to him after tearing my eyes from the window.
The pale man glanced over to me, "Hm?"
"What's Anya doing tonight?" Was all I could say, not sure exactly where I was going with starting a conversation. Although normally on our long truck rides we would talk about the girls. Of course, when I say that I really mean we're talking about Gilbert's Russian girlfriend, and my lack of.
The man could yammer on for hours on how perfect she was, with her silky platinum blonde hair, smooth, delicate features, dramatic, violet eyes, alluring pink lips, soft, curvy body, and sweet, accented voice. The girl was every man's dream wrapped in a pink dress and silk bow.
Funny thing was; I was sure that I loved the woman. Not like I was jealous of my big brother, but I was so extremely happy she was there. In a way she was a babysitter to him, well, a babysitter that literally sat on his lap and liked to nip at his earlobes. But ever since he started dating her, the less I've had to drag him home from the bar, completely wasted. It's almost like ever since she arrived my rules are actually enforced.
Such as the curfew, I had told Gil since the first week we moved in together that I locked the door at midnight. Yet he continued to come to the door at one or two in the morning, knocking and forcing me to get up and explain the curfew again.
But since Anya moved in with us, she always brings him home at eleven and makes him get ready for bed with her, finally to get to bed at twelve. Honestly to me it was like she was some sort of miracle worker, sent straight from heaven.
"pfft-! Me of course!" He cackled at his own ridiculous joke, then shook his head and sobered, "She said she's making a dinner for us now," Gilbert beamed at the thought of her, his ruby eyes lighting up. "She told me to tell you that she'll miss hearing your obnoxious alarm at the crack of dawn while we're in Italy."
I raised an eyebrow at him, "She said that?"
"Well…not exactly, but she did say she'd miss us while we're gone." My brother laughed a bit, his scratchy chuckle probably making the people in the back of the truck wonder if we had run over an animal.
Turning my gaze back to the window I nodded, remembering how we were being relocated temporarily. Only for a week or so, then we were returning back into Germany. Anya told us that while we were gone she would stay with her family back in Russia for a while. We were being sent down to the heart of Italy, straight to Rome. Some time away from Germany actually sounded nice to me, and I'd heard a lot of good reviews of the boot shaped nation. With its rich culture and kind people I figured it'd still have a bright sky as opposed to the gray one we currently sported daily.
As I watched the landscape zoom by we both began to pull our coats back on and prepare to get out of the truck and load the people into the cattle cars. This was probably one of the worst things about my job, first capturing them, then practically hand shipping them to their deaths. It made my stomach turn in knots and I felt like throwing up again.
"So while we're in Italy, you gonna find a dame?" Gilbert pulled me away from my thoughts as he wagged his eyebrows.
I forced a small smile, "I already told you, bruder, I don't need a woman right now. It really isn't a big deal." That was the response I had rehearsed over and over.
Gilbert sighed, "Not a big deal…jeez, Luddy, sometimes I worry you aren't really male or something." He chuckled as he buttoned his jacket with one blanched hand, working his fingers nimbly up his front.
The conversation iwas dismissed as I let out a small chuckle and he parked the truck. Out to the far left, sitting on the railway tracks, it sits.
Its chipping red paint job and worn wood planks that it was assembled of, was set atop a feeble steel frame to keep it on the tracks. The thing sat, crouched like a monster ready to spring and gobble up all the people we held in the truck. Although it was more as though I would be personally feeding it the people I had captured. The bottom wasn't the most stable thing in the world, but last time someone jumped out the bottom he had been killed by the recently installed bar on the bottom of the cattle car that blocked that route of freedom. The floor boards were also coated with a stinging substance, their feet were sure to be raw and would hurt intensely by the time their long ride was over. In the corner of the decrepit car was a bucket; the smell would surely be unbearable.
I thought about the small child the woman I had found held. That poor little girl, too; all three of them would have a very troubling time with the events to follow them. The car would be hot and stuffy, the smells more than unpleasant, and the feeling of standing for days would leave them aching and tired. But all of this was just a preamble to the experiences they had yet to discover. The little girl would surely be separated from the woman; I could only pray for the infant.
I let out a sigh, hardly prepared mentally for my task of loading them into the car. It was simple as long as you avoided eye contact and blocked out their low murmurs. Especially the younger ones, their small voices accompanied with their big vibrant eyes that look up to you, a mix of fear and helplessness as they whisper, 'Where's my mutti?" or, 'Have you seen vatti?'
As I threw open the car door and leaped out, I chanted to myself, trying to push all thoughts out. 'Its just survival. Just a temporary survival technique…'
HURRAH~! I've been working on this chapter for like a week and had to finish a bit of it on Fanfiction because my Word program like...died. It no longer works. I need to see if I can get my dad to fix it...
Yup, and Hetalia doesn't belong to me...this probably should have gone in the beginning but I hate scrolling through disclaimers so whatever, its down here.
And I DO NOT support Nazism in any way, shape or form. I will admit to being a WWII junkie and being very fascinated by the events of the time period. But I will not testify to being directly interested in the sick torture and events of the Holocaust and what happened to the many people who died. The whole thing makes me upset so don't go trolling, please.
As always, thank you for reading you lovely human. Please review~! *gives cookies*
EDIT: Um...ok, so its not Vatican City /FAIL/. I meant to put Rome...I feel so stupid! SX ...Anyway, so I've gotten a good amount of positive feedback, I'm really glad you guys like it! If you notice I added quite a bit to this...Its like reviewing, but its not...its just magical. The next chapter should be put soon...maybe sometime around Saturday. Thank you so much for all the support I really like reading the reviews! Bye~!