My father was a decisive man. Once he had made a decision, he rarely changed it.

I received no further correspondence from him during the remainder of my time at the Academy. He had been in the habit of sending me occasional letters, but now I received nothing.

Surprisingly, it was at this time I truly wanted my father to write to me. I found myself eagerly looking forward to the mail delivery each day, only to be disappointed when I received nothing from him. I found myself missing his letters although I had previously taken no interest in them.

It occurred to me that perhaps he was hoping for the same from me. I once attempted to write him a short note, but after staring at the blank page for over an hour, I surrendered to the inevitable. I could think of nothing to write except the obvious apology.

At this point, I was unable to say or place those words on paper to my father. I tried to convince myself that apologizing by letter would be easier than facing him personally. I could merely jot down a few lines, seal the envelope, and post it. End of story. My relationship with him would continue on as before, as strained as it was.

But I knew writing a letter was taking the coward's path, and couldn't bring myself to do it. The apology, in order to be truly meaningful, would need to be done in person. I doubted if my father would accept less from me. I certainly could not.

My mother was silent for almost a month before she attempted to be the peacemaker between my father and me. I was unsure how much my father had shared with her although she must have known about the disastrous prank. I sincerely doubted if he had shared my unintentional words regarding her, the insulting words towards him, or just the general unpleasantness of our entire episode.

I knew that while my parents enjoyed a strong marriage, my father could be rather traditional when it came to protecting my mother from distasteful issues. He actually kept very little from her, only the items he believed it was unnecessary for her to know. Not that she did not eventually discover the details, mind you. And when she did, my father always paid a steep price.

Even Liesl was aware something serious had happened with my father. She was attending St. Hilda's in Oxford, England, but my mother must have informed her of my current difficulties. In Liesl's usual frank and upfront style, she sent me a blunt note containing only two words heavily underlined:

What Happened?

I responded to her note a few weeks later, telling her about the prank, but omitting the sordid details regarding Meyer and Krystyna.

Liesl quickly clarified that she meant what had happened between our father and me, not the prank. She had always dismissed and waved away the tension I held with him. Liesl frequently stated that it was due to our father and me being so much alike, not that we were so different. She firmly believed that once I accepted this fact, we would develop a warm and strong relationship. This time, Liesl must have realized that the situation was extremely serious.

She proceeded to chastise me for attempting such a dangerous prank, even if I thought I knew what I was doing. But in pure Liesl form, she added that aside from the damages and injuries, it must have really woken up the bored to death class. Liesl continued to prattle on about inconsequential female fluff that she knew completely annoyed me but that she always added anyway.

Liesl was receiving excellent grades and yet was able to maintain an active social life. Too active, if you asked me, with too many unnecessary distractions. Liesl was as well liked in England as she was Germany. Her calendar was full of social engagements. She reported that she had had tea a few times with a charming Englishman named Jack, whom she had met at one such function.

I had to curl my lip at the thought of her meeting some scholarly Cambridge pauper for even something as innocent as tea. While I held the English in slightly higher regards than I did Americans, I would have preferred her not to become involved with them in the slightest. While they had never expressed it directly, I knew my parents expected her to marry a German national as they did me.

As her older brother, I had felt it my duty to warn her about men her age. Basically, the only thing crossing our minds regarding young women was how to have sex with them. I was three years her senior, likely around the same age as her "Jack" and the countless others that were seeking her attention. And I knew all too well what young men were capable of doing.

As the weeks passed, it became obvious that I would be excluded from my family's holiday festivities, forcing me to remain at the Academy for the holiday season. While I was hopeful of a reversal of fortune, I accepted the reality. Normally, my mother's letters would be filled with holiday plans weeks in advance. This year, her letters were strangely silent, mentioning nothing regarding the upcoming season.

I felt a growing sense of loneliness and isolation from my family.

Time began to pass very slowly for me. I found myself slipping into a deep depression, unable to pull myself out of it. I was not prone to melancholy, but the confrontation with my father impacted me more than I cared to admit to myself. My poor actions were too much for me to accept, and I did not know how to amend them.

I began having trouble sleeping and I lost my formerly large appetite. I went through the motions of attending my classes, but retained little of what I learned. While I was in no danger of failing them, my class standing began to slip from its previous high level.

Nothing appealed to me or held my interest for long. Even my prior hobbies, sketching or pursuing young women, held no interest for me. I found myself constantly distracted and unable to focus at the task at hand. To make matters worse, I was still confined to the Academy grounds. Although the grounds were large and sprawling with many sports and activities, there was nothing here that enticed me. I began to withdraw from others.

Meyer, of course, took delight in my difficult times.

"Not so high and mighty now, are you Dietrich? You were able to dodge that bullet which had your name on it. Once again, we all know the reason why. You were unable to handle the situation yourself and needed your father to step in and save your sorry ass. Too bad he won't be there when you're in combat as some lowly gefreiter."

Meyer was not the only one to utter such frank words. There were several other cadets who spoke about my near expulsion, a few openly, others in loud whispers which were meant for me to overhear. All of us knew of cadets during our tenure who had been expelled for lesser offenses. It caused much bitterness among some of the cadets that I was being treated differently due to my family connections.

I knew some of their comments stemmed from jealousy, others were just stating the obvious. However, I was ultimately forced to agree with them. I knew it was my father's money and influence which had influenced Schnass. I seriously doubted Schnass personally profited by a pfennig from my father's "generosity", but the Academy certainly did. Schnass had no other mission in life than to continue and maintain the Academy's high standards and reputation during these difficult times. He was willing to release my soul in exchange for funding.

While I had now embraced my family's military tradition, at times I believed the price I was paying was too high. There was a small part of me that wished I had been expelled to put an end to all of this.

Schnass was as good as his words about teaching me to be humble. I was at his demand any time or day of the week except for when I was in class. I became his laborer for any odious task that arose or that he dreamed up in the middle of the night when he had nothing else to occupy him.

I began to dread finding the simple notes slipped under my door ordering me to report to his office. Soon it became the first thing I would look for when I awoke in the morning or when I returned from class in the afternoon. I obsessed about finding the notes, concerned that I might miss one and that Schnass would not believe my explanation of not receiving it.

There were additional summons which were personally delivered to me by Riegel, whose presence I began to loathe. Riegel always seemed embarrassed and apologetic when he would approach me, interrupting whatever I was doing.

My servitude to Schnass began immediately and simply the day following my meeting with him. I was ordered to chop and split wood until I met a certain quota. I worked that day until my hands were blistered and my arms ached. This was repeated whenever Schnass believed the wood supply was running low. When the snow appeared later, I was reassigned to shovel it instead.

When Schnass became bored with me completing these mundane tasks, I was re-assigned to work as a server at the academy's numerous social events.

I had known that Schnass was actively fundraising and constantly maintaining contacts with the military, but not to this extent. It appeared that his professional social calendar was unlimited.

I did everything from serving dinner at major functions to serving coffee at meetings. I would be ordered to stay until they ended and then assist the staff with the clean-up responsibilities afterwards. Inevitably, these events fell on the weekend and took away whatever little free time that I had remaining.

It did not take long before my life was comprised of only going to class, studying, and working. Schnass managed to balance the workload he saddled me with to keep me just busy enough that my studies were not impacted, but that I had no free time. Frequently, I fell into bed exhausted from the day, barely remembering what I had done. While the routine was exhausting, I did find the benefit that the hard and constant physical work soon dissipated my insomnia and revived my appetite.

When I had thought it impossible for Schnass to pile on yet another task, I began chauffeuring him when Riegel was not available. When it seemed that Riegel became less and less available, I strongly suspected that he was taking advantage of my forced servitude.

Chauffeuring by itself was not bad. I was very familiar with the surrounding areas and I was eager for the opportunity to leave the grounds, even if I was working. As Schnass' driver, though, I was expected to open his door, escort him to the events and hold an umbrella over him if it should be raining. I frequently was drenched in the process of keeping Schnass dry and comfortable.

I dreaded the day when I would be required to chauffeur him to meet a woman and then ordered to return later or even worse, wait outside while he visited her. Fortunately, that day did not arrive.

Although Schnass was a widower, he did not appear too old to be interested in taking a second wife. I reluctantly admitted to myself that he could be charming and that his prominent position made him a very desirable prospect to a woman. I witnessed several handsome women who were obviously attracted to him, but he seemed oblivious to their efforts.

Schnass never spoke when I drove except to give me quiet orders. The rest of the time we rode in silence. When he had other guests in the automobile, I was surprised to discover he was an interesting conservationist, able to engage his fellow passengers in lively discussions. Schnass could discuss anything from opera to politics with ease.

Politics were a frequent topic of conversation, especially since the National Socialists had recently taken control of the government. There was a great deal of speculation on how they could impact the military.

At first his guests were hesitant to speak candidly with me in the vehicle, but Schnass quickly availed their fears.

"Your driver, Eberhardt?" they would sometimes ask quietly, concerned they had already been too frank in front of me.

"You need not worry about Dietrich," he would reassure them. "He will keep a confidence."

On one occasion, Schnass provided a ride home from a conference to a drunken one-eyed general. The general was obviously tight and in no condition to drive. Frequently, he would pull a large flask from his pocket and take a drink. He became louder and louder the closer we approached his residence.

"What happened to Riegel? Why isn't he your chauffeur anymore?" The general slurred to Schnass.

"I've begun assigning Riegel to more important responsibilities. I rarely have him performing this type of mundane task anymore."

"Then who is this who replaced him? Hey, you! What's your name, boy?" the general called loudly from the back seat.

I looked in the rear view mirror and made eye contact with him before answering.

"Dietrich, Herr General," I answered coolly. I did not care to be addressed as "boy", even if by a general.

"Dietrich? You couldn't be Erich Dietrich's son, could you?" When I didn't respond, he nudged Schnass in the ribs. "You have Erich's son as your driver?" he loudly whispered to Schnass, before snorting in laughter.

"Yes, among other things, he is a frequent driver for me."

The general laughed loudly again. "A Dietrich that's a chauffeur! I never thought that I would ever see the day. I had heard that the son was nothing like the father, and this proves it. Too bad for Erich that your driver is the one to carry on the Dietrich family name."

The general was still not finished expressing his witty thoughts and finished with the most insulting one. "Erich must be pissing on himself and the grandfather rolling over in his grave at even the thought let alone the reality.

"Though, I suppose that it could be worse, though, eh, Schnass? The boy could be working as a cowboy on some ranch in America!"

Schnass said nothing to refute or rebuke the general.

I drove in an angry silence. I could feel my face burn with embarrassment and my backbone stiffen. I felt like they were discussing me as if I was a potted palm, unable to comprehend their words.

When we arrived at the general's residence, I forced myself to act professionally towards him as if I had heard nothing. I opened the car door for the general and held an umbrella over him to shield him from the rain.

When we reached the door I gave him a slight nod only as a courtesy due to his rank.

"Herr General," I said formally, not waiting for him to reply.

I forced myself to place my anger aside as I returned to the car. Schnass remained silent on the return drive to the Academy, never commenting on the general's words. It was only when we arrived did he finally speak.

"It is not necessary for you to work this Friday's event, Dietrich. There is sufficient staff available for the evening."

"Thank you, Herr Kommandant, for your consideration." I could barely believe it. It would be the first weekend that I had not worked since I had become indentured to Schnass several weeks prior.

Schnass nodded. "Of course, I will need you to play music at a private reception I am hosting Sunday evening."

"Understood, Herr Kommandant." I paused a moment before continuing. "If I may suggest, Herr Kommandant, for me to begin playing early? I believe your guests would enjoy hearing music when they arrive."

Schnass looked at me quickly, his eyebrows raised in surprise for the briefest instant.

"I agree," he answered simply before leaving me on the porch.

My mind began racing as I returned the automobile to the garage. Perhaps my situation was improving. I would much rather play the piano than wait tables at dinner.

On that Friday evening, I dropped into bed exhausted after supper. I blissfully slept until breakfast the next day, happy not to have worked the previous evening's event, and with no fear of having a summons slipped under my door. I felt slightly self-righteous. I believed I had finally won Schnass over and that he had felt some empathy towards me regarding the general's crude comments.

As I had promised, I arrived early Sunday evening to begin playing music. I had always enjoyed playing the piano, and it was something I rarely had time to pursue. The Kommandant had an excellent piano and it was a pleasure to play it. I primarily played classical selections, but when I played a light American ragtime piece, I received stern looks from a few government officials, their scarlet swastikas prominent over their clothing. I promptly returned to the classical pieces.

I was playing after the reception when one of the guests approached me.

"Herr Dietrich, you play beautifully. But there again, all of you Dietrichs are so talented." He laughed lightly.

I smiled at the compliment. "Thank you, Sir."

"As talented as you are at the piano, it is good to see another Dietrich following your family's military service. I was just mentioning the same to your father yesterday evening."

"My father?" I asked puzzled, while I softly continued playing.

"Yes, I saw him Friday, at Eberhardt's fundraiser event. He didn't stop by to see you?"

"No, he did not. I was unaware that he was here," I responded quietly.

"Well, he must have thought that you were busy with your studies and all the activities of being a senior, eh? No time to visit with an old war horse and hear stories you've already heard a dozen times."

I smiled thinly. That might have been the reason once, but it was hardly the reason now.

"Although I myself would hardly call him old," the man continued. "I must say that Erich is looking remarkably fit for a man his age. I don't believe he's aged a day in twenty years. Well, no doubt you will be seeing him soon enough. Please give him my best when you do."

I paused for a moment, processing the information before I resumed playing. Now I had discovered the true reason Schnass had released me from Friday's event: It was due to my father attending the fundraiser. While I had tried to convince myself Schnass was becoming more compassionate to my plight, now I knew his true reason was to avoid placing my father in a difficult situation.

It was a disturbing realization that I forced myself to accept.