The street is crowded with civilians and soldiers alike. They're all headed in the same direction… All but one. A tall, heavyset man rushes west, pushing against the crowd trying to swallow him into its folds. Some people shoot him dirty looks as he passes; others feel pity, for they can see the desperation in his eyes.

One young soldier recognizes the odd man out. "Herr Schultz?" He inquires. "Where are you going, sir?" Hans has told this boy a million times that he needn't call him 'Herr Schultz,' that 'Hans' would do just fine. It doesn't matter; the boy always addresses his superiors by their last names, no matter how familiar they are to him.

Hans does not slow, so the private follows closely on his heels, making two odd men out from the crowd. "I'm looking for someone," Hans says vaguely. He doesn't say who, not even when the soldier asks.

Tired of his former boss' evasion of his questions, the soldier plants his feet and grabs Hans by the arm, forcing the older man to face him. "Herr Schultz, there is a war on. Most people are trying to make sure they have enough food and goods; they're volunteering to fight or running away from the draft. What are you doing, sir? And where are you going?"

Hans shakes the young one off. "That's not your concern. You're a soldier now, boy, not my employee. Do what you must and take the orders you must. Take care of yourself and your family, and I'll do the same for myself and mine." He continues on his path against the crowd.

The young soldier stands still for a moment. "How, Herr Schultz?" He asks, but Hans is too far away to hear him.

What Hans does hear is the unmistakable cry of a child - a young child. His pace quickens and he reaches his destination: a playground.

The area is very different from how Hans remembers it. Usually so full of life and laughter, it is now separated from the rest of the world by barbed wire. At the base of this barbed barricade is a scrap of yellow fabric. When he bends to pick it up, he sees a child on the other side of the wire. No doubt she is the source of the cry he heard, and the fabric in his hand is a piece torn from her dress.

The little girl looks up at Hans with wide eyes. She is the spitting image of her mother, who begged Hans to find the girl and care for her.

"Pessa?" Hans says softly. "My name is Hans. I'm a friend of your mother's."

Pessa can't be more than three years old, but her haunted eyes are that of a person nearing the dusk of their life. She is wary of Hans; she is wary of everyone these days. Her father was taken away the day the Nazis came to town, and her mother has spent every day since then hiding or disposing of anything written in Hebrew or presenting the Star of David. Pessa doesn't understand why everything is changing, and she doesn't like it.

Hans doesn't understand either, and he too doesn't like it. The same can be said for many.

Hans carefully moves a section of barbed wire so that Pessa can make her way through. "Come with me, Pessa. Your mother asked me to take care of you; let's get you cleaned up, now, come on."

Unable to come up with a better option, Pessa wriggles through the gap in the barbed wire. She holds tightly to Hans' outstretched hand and the pair make their way back to town. Travelling this direction is easier, because they can fade into the crowd without fear of being trampled or pushed.

By the time they can see the Schultz residence in the distance, the sun is setting. Hans' wife will have supper on the table when they arrive, no doubt. He hasn't told Gretchen of their newest charge, so he hopes there's enough food for the child.

When they enter the house, Gretchen looks at Hans and Pessa in turn. "Another mouth to feed," she says. She doesn't seem to approve of the situation, but she doesn't necessarily seem to disapprove of it, either. She knows that people must take care of each other during a war, but she already has five children, a husband, and two children (make that three, with Pessa) of his employees to take care of. If he brings home the children of every Jewish staff member of his factory… She'll give them all the love she can, but she won't be able to feed them.

Pessa is offered a spot between the other two 'factory children,' as the Schultz children refer to them. Hans sits at the head of the table, and dinner is eaten in silence. The Schultz five can sense tension between their parents, and the factory three are simply shy.

Once the children have retreated to their rooms for the night, Gretchen confronts Hans: "You can't keep doing this. We have enough for ourselves and our children, no more." Hans looks like he's about to rebuke her, so she carries on quickly, before he has a chance. "Not only is it impractical, it is dangerous. Their parents have been, shall we say, removed, and these children are next."

"They won't take the children-"

"They will! And we'll be lumped in with them, if we keep housing them! We have children of our own, Hans." Gretchen takes a deep, steadying breath. "I will give those three as much love and care as I give our own children, but we cannot take in any more. It isn't safe."

On some level, Hans knows she is right. But when a wide-eyed employee asks him for help, he won't deny them.

Gretchen leaves Hans deep in thought. She needs her sleep if she's to care for eight youths tomorrow morning.

A knock on the front door disturbs Hans, but does not wake the rest of the house. He rises from his seat and opens the door.

"Herr Schultz." It's the young soldier from earlier, a former employee at Schatze Toy Company. He's accompanied by an older, meaner looking soldier. "We know what's going on, sir. Just bring the children and we'll be off."

Hans remains perfectly impassive. "What children?"

The older soldier smiles cruelly. "Just bring them, Schultz. We'd hate to take yours by accident." He pushes past Hans and enters the home, but he does not search for his prey.

Hans takes a step closer to the soldier he knows so well. "What will you do with them? Where will they go?"

The young man looks uncomfortable. "They'll be brought to their parents, sir, that's all I know. But surely it's better for them to be with their parents than with you and your wife; you have five children of your own, sir. You can't afford to keep extras."

Hans frowns. "They're not extras; don't call them that. But if you promise me they'll be brought safely to their parents, I will bring them to you."

The soldier looks his old boss in the eyes. "I promise, Herr Schultz, that they'll be brought to where their parents are."

Hans goes to the bedroom Gretchen made up for the factory children. Pessa is the first to wake, but the others follow suit fast enough. At the promise of seeing their parents again, all three move a little faster.

The moment the two soldiers see the children, the elder becomes violent. One child receives a smack to the face; the next is dealt with a blow so severe she falls to her knees. Pessa's hair is yanked so fiercely that some of it is torn from her scalp.

Pessa's eyes stick on Hans. She looks equal parts hurt and dejected.

Before he leaves, the old soldier turns to Hans. "What did you see?"

Guilt and terror crush Hans' lungs; he can hardly draw a breath. He knows the correct answer. "Nothing, sir."

"That's right, Schultz. You saw nothing." He marches out the door.

Hans makes a vow to continue seeing nothing. Not for his own safety, but for that of his loved ones. He'll see nothing, hear nothing, know nothing if it might help the Allies defeat the atrocities the Fuhrer insists on imposing on Germany.