Dein Hand, in Meine

Chapter 23

Humanity

July 20th, 1944
Firenze, Italia

What did one do to receive such a cruel punishment?

Surely, the news of the allied armistice held some significance to our people.

But to be held onto dear life by our German, "occupiers," it was the worse thing that could happen, slashing the morale of Fratello and I.

Ever since we surrendered to the Allied Powers nearly 2 years ago, the Germans tightened their grip on Italy. As if on cue, Hitler ordered our nation to be secured, reducing it to a battlefield.

If I thought I was living in fear in the years before, when the war had only just begun, I was unprepared for this new onslaught of aggression.

It became more difficult to contact Arthur, German soldiers lined the streets everywhere I went. Armed civilians would gather in areas, just waiting to ambush those who tried to hold them back. The ally that had once been one of our greatest influences in the war, that solidified Mussolini's Roman ideology, was now threatening to maintain its iron hold.

It did not help the fact that the more I disappeared, snuck around; the more Lovino worried.

Even if he is rough around the edges, even if he is as miserable of a person as he is; he was my brother and I never denied the fact that he loved me. Everyday he would see me to the door, his eyebrows always arched, his expression always harsh and unforgiving, but he would always mutter as I walked out; "Be back soon, or I will never forgive myself for allowing you to leave."

Our country was in ruin, but we all somehow...kept on.

Whether it was the mutilated, humiliated propaganda that covered every inch of our cities, or the fact that our desecrated buildings still stood proudly, greeting us with every day..or just how we built ourselves up on the inside, each hit we took from our enemies, we were still surviving.

Occasionally I would stroll into a marketplace, a shop, and right outside a violinist would stand and no matter the weather, the threat; he would play.
He would play until the sun no longer remained in the sky, replaced by the moon. He would play even when I returned home, when I would paint another feature of a battered resister's face, when I would fall into sorrow gazing at the portrait of Ludwig right beside it..I knew he would be playing, because, like the pounding boots of soldiers, marching down avenues and through borders of the nations they proudly conquered was music to the ears of our twisted leaders, the music that rang out through the hollow shops and decimated buildings, the music that brought evidence that humanity still persisted within our nation..that became our favorite song, our anthem.

And no one, no Hitler, no Mussolini...no army could ever destroy that.

Berlin, Deutschland

My body rippled with unease.

This was it. I thought.

This is where all that Hitler worked for; blows up in his face.

Literally.

The Bendlerblock was a grand building, where many windows sunk into the exterior. A relatively large courtyard lay before it. This building had so much history already, and I felt a certain pride flower within me.

A building expanded by the Nazis who came to power; now the headquarters of the resistance who plotted to defile them. Irony so tasteful, so sweet yet so bitter, that I could still bear to consume it.