Growing Pains (October 1936)

Friedrich stared at the problems in front of him, trying desperately to make some sense of the numbers, but he could not pull his attention from the snickering behind him. He had just joined the study hall where he was sitting the previous week, for his teacher had discovered he was well past the math level of the rest of his class. At first, he had been quite proud, but a bit of fear had seeped in when he realized he was the youngest student in the study hall and the older boys had not been overly welcoming. On the current occasion, the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end, telling him the snickering had something to do with him. Though he knew his mother would tell him no good ever came of listening to gossip, he could not help but turn his attention to the whispered comments. His hearing had always been good, and it did not take him long to pick out the words of the boys. "Yes, you heard me right—eight! And I hear it's going to be nine any day now."

"Why in the world would anyone want nine children?" Friedrich's heart sank as the words confirmed that the boys were indeed talking about his family, for he doubted any other family in Salzburg was expecting the ninth child.

"Oh, I think it is less about the children and more about the process of making them if you know what I mean." The boys snickered again, and Friedrich felt his neck grow hot. At twelve—almost thirteen—he knew enough about how babies were made to understand the subtext of the conversation though it was still not a topic he would ever consider discussing so openly. "The last one is not even a year old yet, and they are about to have another. Though after meeting Captain von Trapp's wife the other day, I can understand why he cannot keep his hands off of her. Even very pregnant, she has quite the figure."

"Does she?"

"Oh yes, and she's relatively young, too. I certainly would not mind taking a turn."

Friedrich could no longer stand it; as much as he knew his parents, particularly his mother, would not appreciate him fighting, he also could not sit idly by and listen to his classmates demean her like they were. Setting aside his pencil, he stood and whirled to face the gossiping boys. "You should not say such things," he said sternly, trying to mimic his father's scowling expression. The boys who were talking raised their eyebrows at him, and one of them stood. Friedrich noted that he was a few centimeters taller and certainly heavier than Friedrich himself. Fear gnawed at Friedrich's insides, but he forced it back, refusing to let it show on his face. He reminded himself that most boys probably did not have naval heroes for fathers who had been teaching their sons self defense for years. While the other boy's size would definitely be to his advantage, perhaps Friedrich could use superior skills to come out on top. Just as he thought this, however, the other boy stood up, reminding Friedrich that it was not a one-on-one fight. He had no hope of winning—Friedrich's only chance was to somehow keep both boys from injuring him seriously until they managed to attract the attention of a teacher. Squaring his shoulders, Friedrich raised his fists and prepared to do just that.

"So you are going to fight us then? And here I thought you were supposed to be intelligent," the second boy sneered, moving closer.

"I won't fight you if you agree not to say such things about my mother again."

Both boys looked at each other before laughing. "Oh, we will say what we want. The way I see it, it's two of us against one puny kid."

"Actually, it's not," a new voice cut in, and Friedrich glanced behind him to see another boy had joined him, this one even older than the two he was facing. Three more boys stood behind the one who had spoken, their arms relaxed but obviously ready to step in if needed.

"This is none of your business, Werner" the first gossiper remarked, but Friedrich noted with satisfaction that he had begun to look nervous. He had no idea why Werner was supporting him, for he had never interacted with the older teen before, but he was grateful for his support.

"Actually, it is. If you are going to mess with a von Trapp, you are messing with all of us."

"Ah, it's like that is it? I should have known that all of you Nazi scum would stand together." Startled, Friedrich looked again at Werner, noting that he did have a small swastika on the sleeve of his jacket. He had heard that the Nazi party was recruiting youth throughout Austria to join their cause, but he had never met one before. For a moment, Friedrich wondered what his opponent had meant by "stand together" since he was certainly not part of the Nazi youth party—even if he wanted to be, which he was still not sure of, he was too young.

"What will it be, Liam? Are you man enough to fight us or are you going to back down like the coward we both know you are?" Liam looked between Friedrich and Werner for a moment, his eyes briefly darting back to the other boys standing behind them. Finally, he spit on the ground in front of them.

"I wouldn't want to dirty my hands by fighting you anyway."

"The feeling is mutual." Liam and his friend turned pointedly away from Friedrich at which point Friedrich finally relaxed, turning to his rescuer and holding out a hand.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "I do greatly appreciate your help."

"It was no problem. I am only sorry that he decided not to fight after all. I was looking forward to showing him just what we think of those who would threaten one of our own."

"Your own?"

Werner considered for a moment. "Well, you are younger than those we normally recruit, but given who your father is, I doubt anyone would have any problems with me offering you this." With that, he reached into the pocket of his pants and extracted something, holding it out to Friedrich. It took Friedrich only a moment to recognize it as a swastika, and his eyes widened as he stared at it. Dozens of questions warred in his head, the most pressing of which was why Werner thought that Friedrich's father would have anything to do with the Nazi regime. Friedrich knew enough about both to realize they were incompatible—the values his father had always supported did not coincide with the values the Nazi's espoused. But Friedrich supposed his father did disappear for days at a time without much explanation for where he was going except that he had business. Perhaps an affiliation with the Nazi's was not as far-fetched as Friedrich initially suspected.

Friedrich quickly shook the thoughts from his mind. He did know one thing—he could not ask the teenager in front of him any of his questions. He could not even imagine what the older boy would think if he realized that Friedrich was so ill-informed about his own family that he did not even know his own father's political affiliations. Friedrich knew he would need to talk to Georg himself if he wanted to learn the truth, but though Georg had become more open and honest with his children since Maria's arrival, talking to him about such a sensitive topic was still a daunting prospect. Perhaps Friedrich would talk it over with his elder sister and gather her opinion.

"Thank you," Friedrich said, taking the patch and pocketing it, knowing the other boy expected gratitude. And Werner had helped him out of a tight spot, so he was truly grateful. He was just also very confused.

Werner nodded, seeming satisfied. "We will see you around, von Trapp." With that, he turned back to the boys who had supported him—also part of the Nazi youth, Friedrich realized with a start. Feeling his legs become shaky, he dropped back into his seat, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

Friedrich was quiet during the drive home that day, pondering what had happened in study hall. Liesl noticed, but Friedrich shook his head, not wanting to talk about it with all of his siblings in the car. She nodded in understanding. Once they were home, they all piled into the dining room for a snack, Kurt, as usual, leading the way. Friedrich ate quickly before slipping away to his room to finish his homework. However, he simply could not bring himself to focus, an unusual occurrence. Even Kurt, who typically had trouble focusing on his work, was bent over his desk, scribbling furiously. Finally, Friedrich closed his book and left the room, hoping a conversation with his sisters might help focus him.

He found Liesl and Louisa in their room, talking. They both glanced up, guilty expressions on their faces when he knocked on the door frame, and he gave a slight smile as they relaxed upon seeing him instead of one of their parents. "Could we talk for a couple minutes?" he asked.

"Sure. Come on in." Friedrich stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. Liesl's eyebrows rose. "That serious?" she asked. Generally, unless they were sleeping, the von Trapp children left their doors open. It had started with a request from their father, but they had kept up the habit, having found that it often led to spontaneous games when a sibling happened to walk by and notice they were unoccupied.

"It is," Friedrich confirmed. He pulled the patch from his pocket and held it out to them. Liesl gave a small gasp, and Louisa narrowed her eyes at him.

"What are you doing with this?" Louisa questioned.

"A boy in one of the upper years gave it to me today."

"And you took it?"

"He helped me out of a tough spot—some other boys were making fun of Mother and going to fight me when I stood up to them, and he supported me and stopped them."

"You could just say thank you, you know. You don't have to agree to support their crazy ideas," Liesl remarked.

"They strongly implied that Father did support them."

"Never!" Louisa denied immediately. "Father hates everything the Nazi's stand for. He would never be a part of a group like that."

Friedrich had somewhat expected Louisa's passionate defense, for she had always been quite close with their father and saw him as a larger-than-life figure who could do no wrong. And while Friedrich had his own sort of hero worship for his father, he also realized that he was just a man who could make mistakes—his distancing of himself from his children after their mother's death was proof enough of that. Therefore, Friedrich looked to Liesl instead of his younger sister, noting that the eldest von Trapp had a thoughtful expression on her face. "It's not impossible," she finally said.

"What? Of course it is."

"Just think about it, Louisa. He's been taking an ever-increasing number of business trips since Mother died, but what kind of business could a retired naval captain have in a country without a navy? And then there's the way Mother always worries when he's gone—if he's truly just lecturing or looking over sub designs like he says, what would she have to be worried about?"

"Maybe he's helping another country with sub designs and Mother is just worried about travel—you know she's only been out of the country a couple times so perhaps she's worried about how dangerous it could be."

"Another country like Germany?" Friedrich suggested. "The few times I've heard him on the telephone, he has always been speaking German."

"The telegrams I've read have been in German, too," Liesl mused. Friedrich looked at her sharply for no matter their suspicions, she should not have been snooping on her father's telegrams. She blushed, looking a bit sheepish. "I haven't meant to read them, but some have been delivered to me, and a couple opened when I set them on his desk. I could not help but look."

"That doesn't prove anything," Louisa insisted.

"You know there's only one way to settle this, right?" Liesl asked. "We'll have to talk to Father."

"Leave me out of this," Louisa told them. "I have no suspicions, so there is no reason for me to talk to him."

Friedrich sighed. "I can do it," he offered. He had hoped his sisters would have another idea, but he should have known that his father would be the only one able to give him the answers he needed. But maybe he could start with his mother to get some insight into his father's activities first.

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Georg smiled as he wandered around the music room, straightening a couple chairs that had been pushed out of place during their music session that night. It had been a good week. Maria had a check-up with the doctor who declared that her pregnancy was progressing nicely. Johannes' babbling was beginning to resemble actual words, and Georg was pretty sure one of them was Dada—Maria had vehemently disagreed, of course, but Georg felt it was only because she wanted him to say Mama first. Marta had asked him to start teaching her piano with her older siblings, and she was already showing great promise on the instrument. Kurt, who had traditionally struggled a bit in school, due more to a lack of motivation and inability to sit still than any lack of intelligence, had brought home two nearly perfect scores on tests. Louisa had been selected to compete in a prestigious horse show. And best of all, Georg had been home all week to celebrate those milestones.

As he pushed one of the chairs against the wall, he noticed something on the ground beneath it. Assuming one of the children had dropped a small trinket, he bent over and picked it up. His smile quickly fell off his face when he recognized the symbol on the small piece of fabric. He could not imagine what a patch with a swastika on it would be doing in his house—he was careful to keep that part of his life as far from his family as he could.

Agitated, Georg left the final chairs where they were and quickly strode from the room. He knew that there was only one person who was likely to bring the patch into the house, and he was determined to talk to his eldest son immediately to figure out exactly what he was thinking. Friedrich was a very bright boy. Surely he realized just how corrupt the Nazi party was and how dangerous joining the youth movement could be. Not to mention, he was twelve. What could they possibly want with a twelve-year-old?

On his way up the stairs, Georg literally ran into his wife who was on her way down. The smile slipped from her face when she saw him. "Georg? What's wrong?"

He scowled, holding up the patch. "I found this in the music room."

She peered closely at it. "I am guessing you did not drop it there."

"No. You know I keep this garbage away from you and the children. Though apparently I'm the only one who cares to do that."

"You're angry."

"Damn right, I'm angry. What the hell was the boy thinking? He knows what these people stand for, what their values are. How could he possibly want to be a part of that?"

Maria put a hand on his shoulder, and Georg immediately felt part of the tension leave his body. Even after nearly two years of marriage, he was amazed at the effect something as simple as her touch could have on him. "Georg, you forget that he is your son and he worships you. He is also quite intelligent. No matter how much you have tried to keep your work from the children, the oldest ones, at least, likely suspect something. And I would not be surprised if they have heard rumors feeding those suspicions."

"Surely they know that I could not possibly support such people. Do my own children truly think so little of me?"

"It's not a matter of what they think of you. I suspect they're likely just confused. Talk to Friedrich, Georg. But you need to calm down first—perhaps wait until tomorrow evening?"

Georg let out a long breath, knowing she was correct. "Alright. I just. . . I worry about him. These are very dangerous times, and I am not sure I can protect him from everything—protect any of the children, really."

"That's what makes you a good father, Darling. But it's true that you are not going to be able to protect them from everything. However, I think you're forgetting the important fact that you have raised them well, and at least the older ones are perfectly capable of protecting themselves in many situations."

Georg nodded, leaning forward to press his lips to hers. After a minute or so, he pulled away. "I am going to take a walk and clear my head."

"An excellent plan."

As Maria had suggested, Georg approached Friedrich the following day and asked to speak to him in his study. He noted that the boy immediately looked nervous, glancing to Liesl and Louisa who shrugged. "You're not in trouble," Georg assured him gently. "I just think it is time we had a talk, man to man." Friedrich nodded, squaring his shoulders and meeting his father's eye.

"Man to man," he agreed.

"What about me?" Kurt asked from behind his older brother. Georg smiled and ruffled his hair.

"Tomorrow night, we'll talk. Tonight, I need to speak with your brother." Kurt nodded, happy with the answer, and Georg led the way to his study. Once there, he gestured for Friedrich to sit on the sofa, taking the seat beside him. Friedrich's hands danced nervously in his lap before he seemed to realize what he was doing, clasping them together to stop the motion. Georg decided to just say his piece, unwilling to make his son more nervous than he already was. "I found this in the music room last night. Yours, I assume?" Georg pulled the patch from his pocket, displaying it on an open palm.

Friedrich nodded, swallowing. "Yes, sir."

"Where did you get it?"

"One of the older boys from school gave it to me."

Georg's brow furrowed. "Did you ask for it?"

"No. He helped me out of a tight spot." With that, the whole story came tumbling out of Friedrich's mouth. Georg listened, keeping his face impassive and his reactions under control. In truth, he was impressed with his son's handling of the situation, particularly his defense of his mother. As the story came to an end, Friedrich remarked, "I did not really know what else to do, so I just took it. I thought maybe I could ask you about it later, but I had not found time to do that yet."

Georg let out a long breath, thinking hard. He had hoped that this day would never come, but he had known there was always a risk that his children might find out. Unfortunately, he had not truly prepared for what to do when that day came. Therefore, he took the age-old approach—asking a question to gauge the other person's knowledge. "What do you think about your conversation with this boy—Werner, right?"

"He seemed to imply that you were part of the Nazi party, but Louisa claims that cannot possibly be true."

"I did not ask what Louisa thinks."

Friedrich looked away, obviously gathering his courage. "I think it would explain a great deal," he finally said, his voice softer. Inwardly, Georg cringed though he kept his face impassive. His children were truly quite intelligent.

"I see." Georg nodded slowly. "And what are your feelings on that?"

Friedrich shrugged. "Confusion," he finally offered. "I don't know a lot about the Nazis, but what I do know. . . well, it does not seem like the type of group which you would join."

"A fair assessment."

"Have you?"

"Joined?"

"Yes."

Georg carefully considered his answer. "Sometimes, Friedrich, things are not as they first seem. Life is full of gray areas."

Friedrich frowned. "That doesn't really answer my question."

"That is as much of an answer as I am willing to give at this time."

"But how can there be gray areas in this instance? Aren't you either in the Nazi party or not?" Georg simply gave Friedrich a pointed look. Friedrich's frown deepened as he puzzled through the possibilities. After a couple minutes, his eyes lit up. "I suppose you could join the party in order to try and stop them from meeting their goals. Sabotage from the inside."

"That is certainly a possibility."

"Did you-"

Georg shook his head. "I would appreciate it if you did not speculate further on this matter. Remember, Friedrich, these are very dangerous people. If they caught even a hint that there was someone doing what you suggested earlier, they would not hesitate to take decisive action."

Friedrich gaped. "You mean they would kill you. . . I mean, a person who did that?" he corrected quickly at a glare from his father.

"Likely not only the person who did such a thing but also others he or she cared about. These people are very protective of themselves and do not tolerate betrayal." Friedrich nodded, obviously still processing the information he had received. Georg reached out an put a hand on his shoulder. "I would appreciate it if you let your sisters know that it is best not to ask too many questions about this in the future."

"How did you know we were talking about it?"

"You mentioned Louisa earlier, and I know that they are often your sounding boards for matters such as these." Georg gave his son a small smile at his surprised expression. "I am not as unaware as you seem to think, Friedrich. I am glad that you have found you can trust each other to talk about things that you are not even comfortable bringing up with your mother or me—though I hope you know that we are always happy to talk about anything on your mind, even if we cannot provide all the answers you want."

"I will talk to Liesl and Louisa," Friedrich promised. "And I think that perhaps I will keep my distance from Werner and the others."

Georg nodded in approval. "That would be best. If they ask, you can blame me—simply mention that I felt you were too young yet to be involved in such things. That is true enough anyway."

Friedrich stood, moving toward the door, but he stopped before leaving the room and turned back to Georg. "Thank you, Father," he said sincerely. Georg gave him a genuine smile.

"You're welcome, son. And I am proud of you." Georg stood, pulling Friedrich into his arms for a brief embrace, realizing that he had not done so often in recent years. He determined to rectify that, for he knew that the words he spoke to Friedrich were unfortunately all too true. He could be taken from his family at any point, and he wanted them all to know just how he felt if that happened .