Broken Wings

Unforgiving Children

Else Schüffen-   Munich, Germany 1943

Red flags hung lazily throughout the streets, taunting Else with each step. They stained the streets with propaganda. With blood.

"I wish it was still Christmas," Myna said, her canvas bag dragging on the ground. Hair stuck to her face, frost crept up the individual strands. Else held back the urge to laugh. Her hair was turning white.

"Your hair is turning white."

"I know that, Dummkopf. I'm not blind," Myna said.

Else sighed, shaking her head. Their footsteps reached the corner of Fünfte Strasse, their eyes meeting with the eyes of several children. They all pooled in the street, playing soccer and socializing. Myna smiled, dropping her bag below Else's feet.

"Finally, we can do something fun," Myna said. Her feet blurred against the ground, banging up against the side of the soccer ball. Laughter built up inside of Else, almost exploding out of her mouth.

Until she heard what they were saying.

The propaganda filled her ears. She wanted so desperately to shut it out, to shut the world out. And the worst part? It came from the mouths of children. Their words taunted her ears, the word Jew ringing throughout the street.

"I heard that Hitler's sending all the Jews to these camps."

"Of course he is, Dummkopf. It was the Jews' fault we lost the First World War."

"My father's helping the Führer properly dispose of them all."

That was the part that got her.

"It's not like that! The Jews never did anything to Germany; it's all lies--" She screamed it at the top of her lungs. Myna pulled her arm, pleading with her friend. Tears came to Else's eyes, her knees weakening. What had she just done?

And then came the swastika. It infected the street, the symbol bore on the arm of a soldier. His eyes penetrated through the eyes of the little girl on Fünfte Strasse. Else had chosen her side. And she had just announced it to everyone.

"Jew lover." They all laughed, shaking their heads. And they all thought Else was a good girl. Her brother was a Nazi, she was enrolled in Hitler Youth, and she usually 'Heil Hitlered' when asked. But then they remembered. Her brother was a Jew.

"Excuse me? What did you say?" The Nazi's shadow came into view, its size twice as big as hers. A shiver ran down her spine. What had she done?

"She sympathized with the Jews!" someone yelled out. Else cowered behind his shadow, the tears dry now.

"You stupid little girl! Don't your parents teach you? What is your name?"

"Else. Else Schüffen." Myna remained at her side, staring into the eyes of the Nazi. Evil. It's all that she saw.

"Schüffen? Josef's sister?" Else nodded, the fear subsiding. For once, Josef had saved her. The Nazi soldier nodded, his shadow slinking away.  The snickers didn't disappear, however, even after Else had long left. They remained in her ears for quite some time.

What had she done?

The thought made its course through her mind several times.

❀❀❀

"I couldn't help myself," Else blurted out. Stew simmered on the stove, its dreaded aroma filling the air. Mama's eyes arched in concentration and strain, the words of the newspaper filling her mind.

"What?"

"I-I... I said some things I shouldn't have. About Hitler," she stammered.

"I think those thoughts, too." Mama glanced up from the paper, her eyes smiling. Understanding passed between them, filling their hearts. Else remained in the kitchen for several minutes, a sudden urge flooding through her to hug her mother.

And hug her she did.

"Do you want to do something special?" Mama asked.

Else nodded eagerly, her eyes filling with excitement. Mama rose from her chair, her footsteps leading to the depths of the basement. Else trailed behind her, the musty stench overpowering the smell of the stew.

"Mama, what are we doing?"

Mama held up her finger, the other hand pulling a worn cardboard box from the corners of their basement. Dust coated the top, Mama's fingerprints dotting it. Her fingers danced across the top as she undid it. Stacks and stacks of old pictures revealed themselves.

The young face of a dark haired boy poked out, his face filled with shyness.

Max.

"He was so little. How old was he?" Else finally whispered.

Her mother scooped out a handful of photographs. "I think he was nine in this picture."

Else stared at it in surprise. His shimmering eyes smiled at her, warming her heart. Maximilian. Mama sifted through the photos in her hand, glinting in the dull light. Ones of Josef, of Else and Mama together, and family photos filled Else's mind with memories. One of the whole family was revealed, in front of their home. The day was sunny, with sunlight shining in their eyes. Josef had his arms around Maximilian, his head tilted back in laughter. Maximilian, the Jew.

I guess this was before the propaganda started.

"We were so close then," Else mumbled, her eyes tearing up.

"And then Hitler came into power."

"I wish Hitler never existed. Then Maximilian might still be alive."

Mama smiled, the tears coming to her eyes too. She wrapped her arm around her daughter as Else rested her head on her shoulder. The photos were still clutched in her hand. The next photo was one on Else's eighth birthday. A luscious birthday cake lay in front of her, a single candle sparkling in the darkness. Mama and Father were at her sides, laughing at her frosting-filled face. And then there was Maximilian, standing in the background, a smile curved on his face. The Star of David stained his shirt.

"I didn't even notice the propaganda then. Everything was still... normal."

"I know, darling, I know."

Else glanced up at her mother's chin, a sudden feeling of love and belonging rushing through her. Her mother finally understood her. She knew. She knew what side her mother was on.

She was with her.

It was their own war that was being fought, the mental one that was fought against the propaganda surrounding them. Against Hitler.

And Else had just won it.