Being a Barrow - A Sequel to Barrow's Boy

Victor

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of war, death, domestic abuse, homophobia, xenophobia, mentions of conversion therapy, mentions of sex.

You may benefit from having a translator open.

Wir haben einen und einzigen Feind
Wer schaufelt das Grab von Deutschland
Sein Herz ist voll
mit Hass, Frechheit und Neid
Wir haben einen und einzigen Feind
Der Bösewicht hebt seine mörderische Hand
Sein Name, wissen Sie, ist England

     Such were the words that had been drilled into his head as a child. The ones that he and each of his classmates had been made to stand and repeat, positioning themselves in front of a map in which Alsace-Lorraine was still in their territory. 

     Victor was eight when the war began. Eight when his father went off to fight. That very month, Victor's father was sent to the Marne, and he never came home. When he asked why he would never see his father again, Frauline Schwarz simply pointed at where the words were written on the board.

     His mama had not been the same after, putting all of her focus on the little ones, insisting that Victor and his older sister could understand and would be fine. But Victor was not fine.

     Everyone had said that the war would be over by Christmas. Why, then, did January come without a word of peace?

     As 1915 had gone by, with Victor turning nine and his mother being indifferent to it, his sister began commenting that perhaps the war would go on for a decade. 

     "Du könntest gehen und kämpfen, Viktor. Wie ein guter Mann."

     Victor had not wanted to fight. He wanted to sing. But how, when artists were a burden to a war-hungry nation? Victor's grandfather said that artists were weak. He, the priest of their local church, spoke strongly in favour of the war. To him, it was Gottes Wille, God's will.

     "Deutschland kann nicht schwach sein."

     When the war ended, Victor was twelve, and despite Germany's loss, he was relieved. He would not have to fight, not have to hear the words of his sister pressuring him to enlist when he was sixteen. 

     "Wir brauchen Männer. Alter spielt keine Rolle."

     Victor's brother, Emmerich, was seven at the time. He was highly disappointed that he would not get the chance to fight. The boy was fierce and craved the thrill of battle. Victor called him Bärchen, little bear, because of it. But Emmerich could not remember a time before the war, and Victor thought it best to not try and remind him. They could only move forward. And Emmerich only asked about the time before the war once.

     "Hat Papa mich geliebt?" He had asked.  Victor had answered as simply as he could.

     "Ja, Bärchen, er hat." 

     Victor lived within walking distance of Berlin, though he had never made the walk himself. His father had walked it often before the war. The last time he had done so was to go and enlist.

     Following peace, there had to be blame. Blame for the German loss and for the lives and land they had sacrificed. There was one answer everyone liked to come back to; England.

     In those days, Victor hated England. From what he knew, England had taken his father away from him. England had killed their people, and England, in the Treaty of Versailles, had humiliated Germany.