Broken Wings

Hidden Identities

Maximilian Schüffen-   Munich, Germany 1941

More Jews were being beaten and arrested each day. Families were torn apart. Stores were damaged. The streets were becoming a place of chaos. Maximilian longed to lie in the grass near the secret place, just like he used to in his childhood years when things got rough.

"What news is there today?" Maximilian asked Frau Brandenburg.

"Well, let me see. More Jews charged as criminals. One Jew was caught stealing, news of war, et cetera. It's pretty much the same, Maximilian," Frau Brandenburg said, gathering up the sheets on Max's bed, which, despite being old, still provided Maximilian comfort.

"What was the Jew's name that was arrested?" Maximilian asked, his heart fluttering like a caged swallow.

"Um, let me check on that. The paper is downstairs."

"Okay, danke," Maximilian said, nodding. Shuddering, he recalled the time when the S.S. officer had stopped him in the streets. God had smiled upon him, and spared him. Most were not so lucky.

"Here it is if you want to read it. His name was Friedhof Berkovitz, I think."

"Friedhof Berkovitz, did you say?" he asked nervously. A sickening feeling arose in his gut. It couldn't be Friedhof, not dear old Friedhof.

"Ja, I think that was his name. Why? Do you know him?"

"He was my best friend growing up," Maximilian whispered.

"Oh, Max. I'm so sorry."

"I haven't seen him for years. Now, I know of his fate." Memories of climbing up large grandfather trees, of schoolboy uniforms, and of chasing the moon. All of it dripped down Max's cheeks, swallowing him in a pool of melancholy.

I don't think Maximilian knew how really, truly fortunate he was at the time until this moment. For once, things in his little attic didn't seem nearly as bad. Though he didn't have a window, it was better than being locked up in a musty cell or being forced to slave in the harsh temperatures all day. Though his bed sagged horribly, it was much better than the hard, cold bunkers that many prisoners were forced to sleep in. And though he didn't have many friends to socialize with, he had two very generous people that cared about him very deeply.

And so, you see, Maximilian was indeed very lucky. At least, at this moment.

❀❀❀

Hitler was determined to wipe Jews off the face of the earth. In order to achieve this, he had to hunt for them. Sadly, the Brandenburgs had no idea of the horrors and obstacles that lay in front of them.

So they did not prepare for them.

The day was bright and cheery. The sun had finally come out of its little cave and spread out its warm rays for the people to bathe in. Everyone was rather cheery today, in fact. With each day, it got warmer and warmer, and the people were feeling it.

That is, it was a cheery day until a gray storm cloud drifted in front of the sun.

The S.S.

They came out of nowhere. Usually, kind neighbors would send some kind of warning to houses that hid Jews, whether it be a certain object in a window or a frantic woman claiming to have seen a rabid dog. But this time, no one even saw it coming. Not even the Brandenburgs. They didn't see it coming until it was already there. Until it was too late. As soon as they heard the first cold, hard knock, the house was a blur. Herr Brandenburg happened to be home from work that day, so he remained downstairs to tend to the officer while his wife ran upstairs to warn Maximilian.

And then she had an idea.

He was bound to be discovered; an attic was a common hiding place for Jews, as well as basements. But what if they could hide him in plain sight?

Although Maximilian had dark hair, his skin was a light olive color and rather fair, and his eyes were a lighter hazel. He could barely pass as an Aryan man. Just barely.

"There's an officer downstairs. We need to do something. Comb through your hair and splash some water on your face. Here, I'll get you some nice clothes. You are our son, Henrik, ja? I must go, change fast," Frau Brandenburg whispered quickly, and rushed out the attic to greet the officer. Low voices could be heard downstairs, and each minute they crept closer.

Max, at first frozen with fear, quickly realized his duty and starting combing through his hair with his fingers. As he practically ran to the bathroom, he quickly and awkwardly slipped on Herr Brandenburg's clothes, its starchy cloth clawing at his skin.

"Henrik! Get down here and meet our friend!" Herr Brandenburg yelled.

"He hopes to become a part of the party someday," his wife added.

"I'm here Papa. Hello, I'm extremely pleased to meet you," Maximilian said, slightly out of breath, "Heil Hitler!"

"Heil Hitler!" the S.S. shouted. He combed his fingers through his perfectly combed blonde hair. Determination flecked his blue eyes.

"Heil Hitler!" the Brandenburgs said in unison.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I would like to check your home. It's a precautionary measure set by the Führer."

"Oh, ja! Go ahead!"

The S.S. proceeded to search the entire house. The whole process took a rather long time, minutes ticking like heartbeats from the clock. Frau Brandenburg and Maximilian stayed back, while Herr Brandenburg followed the officer in case he had any questions. When the two men finally emerged from the basement, a thought came to Max's mind. All of his belongings were still in the attic. It was obvious someone was living there. His eyes widened in concern, panic arising in his heart. Seeing the worried look on his face, Frau Brandenburg realized the same thing, and hurried upstairs to cover her husband, grabbing a pot of coffee and some mugs on her way.

She found them in the attic.

"Would anyone like any coffee?"

"No thank you, I don't drink coffee," he said impatiently. "What are these, these, things, doing here?"

Frau Brandenburg swore she saw suspicion bubbling in his eyes.

"Oh, that's Henrik's belongings. He is visiting us from Berlin!" she answered, shifting nervously between two feet.

"Hm. You should give him a better living space."

"Ja. We are still working on it."

"Und what is with the window?" he asked, his finger pointing towards the window, blanketed haphazardly in sheets.

"We don't have curtains for him yet, so he needs some sort of privacy."

The soldier paused, his golden blonde hair falling neatly across his forehead. He gazed askance at the man and his wife trembling internally with fear. His heartbeat matched the rhythm of the clock.

"Hm. Well, I must be on my way," he said at last. "Danke for your time. I hope to see your son with the party."

And then he left.

Maximilian had been spared, once again. One can only hope he remains this lucky. But he is bound to be found eventually. One cannot stay hidden forever.

Unless, of course, he changes his identity.