I awoke to the sound of my alarm, 6:00. It had been the same daily start for the last 3 years. I slumped over, barley awake and tuned to the local news broadcast. I listened, hoping that my parents names would not air, or my home town for that matter. Only God can tell what happens next in this god forsaken war. Being a German is difficult at times, having to deal with the ways we treat some people. Although I am a trusted scientist for the Nazi party, I wouldn't mind it to slip away and live a happier life somewhere else.
The radio stopped. I slumped back into my bed, knowing my two children and wife were cooking breakfast. I looked towards the ceiling, but back down almost imeadiatley. The fan blades sliced the air like the blades atop the helicopter that I was first deployed on. I would do anything to forget the horrors I endured in the trenches. My worst memories were seeing a child, no less than 13 run out of the battle field, and be killed by an American soldier. I started to twiddle my fingers, it helps me forget. Even the doctor says it. I break into tears if I think about it to much. After all, there is only so much one person can endure.
I got up, testing my body against my severe "Mondayitis" , and slowly made my way to the living room, through the hallway as I went.
