Dein Hand, in Meine

Chapter 1

Serve the Fatherland, become a man.

"Mr. Beilschmidt, you may set that down right over there."

Here I was; the recruitment office. It was September 4th, 1939, a day after the French and the British declared war on Germany. My home. The land which I walked upon every hour of the day. I was born here, my father raising me and my older brother with the coldest of hearts and regardless, he taught us well. But after the Great War, which he had proudly served in, I would have never thought another would be upon us. So in this case; I was scared.

It was only a few days ago that I was sitting in our dimly-lit living room, lost in a book with nothing but the smoldering fire to accompany me. Our fireplace wasn't as big as others, to be quite honest, it was probably the smallest I've seen. The stone chimney rose up through the ceiling and out into the roof, where it sometimes brought in the smell of kuchen from the bakery across the way. Berlin. Oh my sweet Berlin. I was forced into your arms and you took me in, gladly. I loved my home and I loved the memories it resonated. All those quiet nights I spent sitting in that rather large leather chair reading, the story always creating an image in my head. I never took them for granted, at least until now, I suppose.

I could only hold onto those things for so long, I realized. Placing my coat onto the small red cushioned chair that sat before me.

"You may take a seat."

I sat down, the chair settling a bit as I pressed all of my weight into it. The damned thing must be ancient. I looked down at my feet, making sure I hadn't scuffed the shoes my brother had lent me for this very occasion. Then I stared straight ahead, ready to get this whole ordeal over with. Yes it was true; I did not want to be here, at all.

"Now, Mr. Beilschmidt, you seem to fulfill each requirement. You are physically capable and well above average to say the least, your family line is of Aryan ancestry, you are well over the 167.5 cm height requirement for those under the age of 21, and you have already been through training. Honestly, I think we should get started right away."

My eyes shut for a second. The entire time he had been speaking he stared me up and down. I felt like a specimen. The way he had said "Aryan ancestry" had caused me to cringe. He had said it with such a tone, which seemed to accentuate the fact. It made me feel awkward, maybe even a little uncomfortable. The way his cold blue eyes meticulously scanned me over in the process, did not help the fact either. It was as if he was bit by bit, critiquing every single detail of me. His eyes trailed from my shiny black loafers to my black slacks, then from there to my white dress shirt and black tie, and my face. He had grinned once his eyes bore into my own blue ones and had captured the way the light glinted off of my slicked-back, blonde hair. He devoured me; I seriously wouldn't be surprised if I were to be his next meal. He truly terrified me.

"Ja..."

I trailed off, my gaze diverting his evil eyes. I folded my hands in my lap, trying my best not to look too nervous nor to show my inner beast. This man had not only failed to impress me, but he certainly pissed me off. His slicked-back dark hair parted to the side and that ridiculous mustache made him look like any other man who roamed Germany with high authority at this point in time. Each a copy of their leader, their Führer, Adolf Hitler.

The man chuckled, his laugh laced with something rotten and crooked. He then rose from his seat and maneuvered himself around his desk; which must have been one hell of a time for him, considering his weight and figure were quite appalling. He stood before me.

"Ludwig, do understand that the Wehrmacht would be absolutely pleased, no, honored to have you join our forces. A perfectly Aryan and skillfully advanced man such as yourself would be of great assistance to us, to the war effort, and the Reich. So, what is it that you choose? Heer? Kriegsmarine? Or perhaps Luftwaffe? Maybe even, the Waffen-SS?"

My heart stopped. No. Not the SS. Anything but the SS. I knew what they did, I knew how easily it was done too. There was no remorse. I could never allow myself to do what they do, never could allow myself to become such an inhumane man. I bit my lip. It was my turn to speak and I knew I must make my decision quick and carefully. But this was hell for me; like I said before, I do not wish to be here.

"Erm...I think the-"

The door flew open, and a tall man entered just as it did, the door slamming behind him.

"I need to speak to you, at once!"

The man shouted at the top of his lungs as the wide recruitment officer turned himself so that he was facing him and followed the taller man out the door, shutting it behind the two of them.

A few minutes passed by as the recruitment officer reentered the room, the door slowly opening, his face flushed. He looked as if someone set his home ablaze.

"Unfortunately there is something that has come up and I cannot proceed with you today Mr. Beilschmidt. We will have to re-schedule this for another time, I apologize for the inconvenience."

With that, he closed the door and I waited until I could no longer hear the tap of his boots on the wooden floor. When I was absolutely sure he wasn't going to come back; I picked my jacket up off of the arm of the old chair and quickly sprinted out the door. I ran the rest of the way out of that building. Believe me. I ran all the way home.

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