September 3, 1939 – Heidelburg, Germay

The front door of the house burst open with a bang, shattering the near silence of the house. "Where have mein kinder gone?" Hans Shultz called out jovially, stepping into the foyer and looking down the hall in anticipation of his children's approach. He didn't have long to wait.

Mere moments after his call, there was a sudden commotion in the hall as the five Shultz children raced toward their father, vying to be first to reach their father. "We are right here, Vati," the youngest, Liesl, called out joyfully.

"So I see," Shultz chuckled, kneeling down and opening his arms wide. The children pressed excitedly into them, the older ones hanging back to let the youngest come closest to their father.

The oldest boy, Oskar, hung back the longest, almost as though he was tyring to decide if he was too old to join the gaggle in his father's arms. "It is good to see you home again, Vater," he said after a moment, coming to lay his cheek against his father's broad shoulder. Apparently twelve was not yet too old to be hugged.

Shultz wasn't looking forward to the day when Oskar finally decided that he was too old to come running to greet him. But Shultz knew the day was coming all too quickly. As he enfolded his eldest, he resolved to treasure these moments as best he could. They came more and more infrequently since he had been pressed into the military. Shultz knew that they would become even more rare now that Hitler had finally launched the war.

He stifled a sigh as he reflected that it seemed as though all men and boys were being pressed into some sort of military service. Even the youth group that the boys had to belong to was little more than a glorified military training group. They held drills and competitions, marching up and down the hills outside the city. Add rifles and full packs and it would be difficult to distinguish the difference between the youth marches and a group of soldiers on a forced march.

The children didn't notice his sigh; they were only in his arms for a few moments before they were swarming on him, dipping their hands into his pockets as they looked for treats. Liesl scrambled up to reach the top pockets of his tunic, calling, "Mutti! Vati has come home to us again."

Oskar stepped back, pulling at imagined wrinkles in his Jungvolk uniform. Shultz watched his son instead of delighting in the search of his younger children. Oskar was taking such pride in his uniform and in the Jungvolk activities. As an active and inquisitive boy, it was only to be expected that he enjoy the physical games and the intellectual competitions that the group provided.

But before Shultz had time to further muse over the changes in his young son, his wife came out of the kitchen, a broad apron tied around her waist. Gretchen's cheeks were flushed from leaning over the stove, but a smile lit up her face as she watched their children piled up on her husband.

"Mein kinder," she sighed, "at least let your father get to his feet." The children reluctantly backed away, knowing better than to argue with their mother when she used that tone of voice. Gretchen winked at Shultz as he hauled himself to his feet, adding, "It is easier to reach to the bottoms of his pockets when he is standing." In an instant, the children were on him again, yelling to one another around Shultz's girth.

"Heidi, let me look in that one," Liesl complained. "I can't reach the high ones."

Heidi ignored her, continuing to dip her hands in and out of pockets. Shultz saw that Liesl was preparing to get her way by any means her five- year-old mind could come up with. That situation was never a pretty one. So, Shultz winked at Liesl, scratching his head as the other children worked their way around to his back. Then he opened his hand to reveal a bright hair ribbon. Her eyes instantly lit up and her pudgy hands reached out for it. Shultz saw the exultant cry rising on her lips and held a warning finger up to his lips. He wanted to surprise the other children as well.

Liesl nodded her head solemnly and reached up to take the present from her father's hand. He gave it to her and she instantly took off, gloating that she had been the first to get her gift. Heidi, the next youngest at seven, noticed almost instantly that her younger sister had vanished. "Vati," she whined, coming around to stand in front of her father, hands on her hips. "Your pockets are empty."

"And if they are?" he asked seriously.

"I saw you give Liesl something," she complained.

"I did no such thing," Shultz maintained, reaching up to tip his helmet a little further back on his head.

Heidi, with the certainty that she was missing out on something, started pouting. The boys, undeterred by the empty pockets, had turned to Shultz's greatcoat, burrowing into the creases in search of their surprises. Shultz, checking to make sure they weren't watching, opened his hand to Heid, revealing another bright ribbon. Heidi grabbed at it, hurrying off down the hall after her sister.

Shultz was saddened to see that Oskar had disappeared somewhere, probably off to the kitchen to finish his schoolwork before the night's Jungvolk meeting. He was disappointed that his oldest son didn't join in with the other children, but Oskar was growing older. Shultz recognized that this was something he was going to have to learn to deal with; all of his children were growing up. And he was missing it.

The two boys concluded their fruitless search of his overcoat and started to move on to Shultz's pack. "Boys," Gretchen called out warningly, "stay out of your father's pack."

The twins complied reluctantly, sulking. "Yes, Mutter," they murmured in disappointment. They started to move off down the hall.

"My twins," Shultz called after them, "there is one place that you have forgotten."

The boys turned around eagerly. "Where Vatti?" they questioned.

Shultz laughed, reaching down into the tops of his boots. When he pulled his hands back, he was holding half a dozen carved wooden soldiers in each hand. "Now," he mused, holding the soldiers just high enough that the boys couldn't reach, "is it blue for Erik or for Karl?"

"Blue for me, Vatti," one of the boys called.

"That's right," Shultz said, handing him half of the soldiers. "Blue for Karl."

"Vatti," the boy protested, "I'm Erik."

Shultz reached down to ruffle the boy's hair. "I know, liebchen. Look, your initials are even carved into the bottom, in case YOU get confused," he said as he handed the remainder of the soldiers to Karl. The identical boys laughed, scurrying away to play with their new toys.

"What do you say?" Gretchen called after them. "All of you," she added, raising her voice so that all of the children could hear her.

"Danke, Vatti," the four chorused happily.

Gretchen stepped over to her husband, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. "You spoil them, Hans," she commented indulgently.

"Maybe," he admitted. "But the war will not allow them to remain children for much longer."

Gretchen sighed. "I know. It is already taking Oskar from us."