Prologue: Max (October 1942)

Silence hovers in the air around me, interrupted only by the occasional crunch of rocks under the car tires. I revel in the soft purr of the motor, so different from the loud banging of a metal tank. The sound of bullets and gunshots still echoes in my ears, but they continue to fade the farther I get from the front.

Four words run through my mind and I remember the yellow form, arriving on that miserable day five weeks ago. My mind is still struggling to connect them together into one comprehensible sentence. The final parting words of my commanding officer. The words that I had waited for two years to hear.

“Du gehst nach Hause.”

I was going home.

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Mama’s arms wrapped tight around me in the first embrace I’ve had from her - or anyone else, for that matter - in months. I hug her back, my grin feeling like it could rip my face in two any moment now. Turns out the right combination of hard work and a holiday was the precise blend needed for me to earn a short leave to see my family.

Looking over Mama’s shoulder, I see Papa and my little sisters standing in the doorway. The girls' grins are even wider than mine. Papa is trying his best to keep his face neutral, but I can see a twinkle in his eye all the way from here. As he hobbles to the stairs, I can hear the quiet thump of his crutch, a replacement for a leg that can never be replaced.

“I missed you so much my little hase,” Mama murmurs.

“I missed you too, Mama,” I whisper into her hair.

“Frau!” Papa yells from the porch, his patience for Mama reaching an end. “Let the boy breathe!”

Mama sniffles a bit and laughs. Looking up at me, her eyes are puffy and red, but shine with happiness. “I think your Papa wants to see you,” she says, squeezing me in one last hug before I turn away from her. I have to keep myself from running to get up the stairs.

“Come here you three,” I say and Krista, Ruth, and Elise come charging into my arms.

I look up to where my Papa is standing above us. His face is as stoic as ever, but the corner of his mouth tilts upwards as I meet his eyes.

“How are you doing, Papa?” I ask, taking a step towards him and then pausing. Papa had never been one for hugs, but he seems to forget all that now. He limps forward and wraps his arms tight around me, his walking stick pressing into my back.

“I wish you could stay,” he says, his voice tight. “The girls have been missing you so, and you’re all they’ve talked about since we got your letter that you were coming home.”

“And what about you?” I say, pulling away to look at him. “Did you miss me?”Papa frowns and I can see tears welling up in his eyes. “More than you could ever imagine.”

All of a sudden, Ruth, Krista, and Elise tackle the two of us in a bear hug. I can hear Mama running up the steps, and then everyone is hugging everyone. It's the most comfortable I've been in years, even if it is a bit cramped and someone's elbow is jabbing into my stomach.

“I missed you guys,” I whisper, reveling in the moment.

That’s when I realize there’s someone missing from this tear-stained reunion.

“Where’s Klaus?” I ask, and everyone goes silent. A few seconds later, Papa sighs, clamping a hand on my shoulder and guiding me into the house.

“I smell something burning,” he says, holding the door open with his crutch. “Let’s go on in and get you settled, and then we’ll talk.”

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Papa spends the rest of the afternoon dodging the question. While he lays down for a short nap and Mama makes dinner, I play with my sisters. They make up game after game, including one where I chase them around the front yard, before Mama finally calls us in to eat.

I’m picking up a book that Ruth had knocked over while playing when Elise’s voice pipes up from the doorway.

“Max?” I turn and notice she’s crying.

“What’s wrong, Mein Schatz?” Standing, I walk over to her and she runs to me, flinging her tiny arms around my neck and hugging me tightly. She doesn’t answer my question, just clutching herself to me as if she’ll never let go.

“Elise, why are you crying?” I ask again, pulling back to look at her. Shaking her head, she looks at me with teary eyes until I don’t think she’s going to answer.

I can hear Mama calling everyone to dinner in the next room, but I don’t move and neither does my sister. Finally, she looks at me and her little voice squeaks out words no child should ever have to say.

“I thought you weren’t coming home,” she whispers. And not knowing what to say to that, I stand, keeping her hand grasped tight in mine.

“Let’s go get some dinner, Mein Schatz,” I say, hating every word that comes out of my mouth.

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“So,” I say around a mouthful of bread. The food is meager, the meal simple, but its' taste is fit for a king. “Where’s Klaus?”

“Max, Mein Liebling,” Mama murmurs, glancing up in apprehension. “Please don’t talk with your mouth full.”

I pause, taking a second to swallow before trying again.

“Where’s Klaus?”

“I don’t think that-”

“Papa! I know that Klaus is in the Youth program, but I also know that it doesn’t run this late. Why is he hiding?”

“Why would your brother hide from you, or anyone else for that matter?”Sighing, I push my plate away and see Mama wince. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the lack of letters from him. Klaus is hiding something, and you know what it is.”

“Your brother is not hiding any-”

“Papa!”Next to me, Krista flinches.

“Helene,” Papa mutters, his voice and jaw tight. “Why don’t you take the girls to get ready for bed?”

“But Johann,” Mama says, her eyes flicking between Papa and me.

“Take them to bed, Helene," Papa orders, his tone hard. "Bitte.” His voice softens on the last word and Mama nods reluctantly. Standing, she gestures for the girls to take their plates and follow her.

As soon as they leave, Papa turns back to me and I’m surprised to see fear masked behind thin lips.

“Your brother,” he says, pushing food around on his plate, “went to the Hitler Youth today, as you said.”

“They’re keeping the boys a little long tonight.”

“I doubt he’s still there, though I wouldn’t put it past him to make some, well, last-minute memories.”

I pause, taking in Papa’s words. “Last minute memories? You make it sound as though he’s not going back?”

“That’s because he’s not.” Pausing, he takes a deep breath before continuing. “He’s not going back. Ever. He’s signing up for the Luftwaffe.”

It takes me a moment to process the words that had just come out of Papa's mouth.

“He’s signing up for the -” I bite my lip and draw in a shaky breath. I force myself to keep my voice down, but I can feel rivers of rage boiling in my gut. “You’re letting him sign up for the Luftwaffe.”

“Max, I know how you feel -”

“Nein, Papa, I don’t think you do!” We both jump at the volume of my outburst and I glance toward the hall leading to the bedrooms before lowering my voice and continuing. “I signed up so that Klaus didn’t have to. I signed up so that Klaus could stay here with the Hitler Youth and with his gottverdammt family.”

“Max -”

“You promised! You and Mama swore that he would not put himself in that position unless he had to, you gave me your word.”

“Max -”

“I would have understood if he had gotten drafted, but he didn't! He’s signing up, and underage as well. Do you know how much trouble he - all of you, as a matter of fact - could get into if they found out?”

“Max Klein!” Papa is yelling now as well and, when I turn back to him, I realize that he’s pushed himself to his feet. “You quiet your voice right now before you scare your mother and sisters more than they already are.”

My mouth snaps shut and, after a tense second, we slowly retake our seats. It’s a little while before either of us speaks again.

“He’s just 15,” I whisper to my plate, unwilling to look up and face Papa.

“I know,” he whispers back and I can hear a soft groan as he moves his leg to a more comfortable position.

Taking a bite of food, I take my time chewing, trying to figure out a way to convince him to stop Klaus.

“Papa,” I say after another minute. “I know that it’s a matter of pride for you to have both of your sons out on the front, but it isn’t for anyone else. I've seen boys who never should have had to make the choice to leave their life and meet up with death instead. There are men out there right now who should never have been within five kilometers of a weapon. Yet someone decided it was a good idea to give them a gun and tell them to shoot people.

“That doesn’t bother me as much as the fact that my group has been marching and a kid five guys behind me took one wrong step. Before he knew it, his new bed was a wooden casket. And that I could have been that kid if I’d been a few seconds later in the line-up. Papa, they’re handing out guns and not caring whether someone’s eye gets blown out because he wasn’t taught how to use it. They think the correct response to sending a kid home in a coffin is to pull five more boys away from their families.

“But I shouldn't have to tell you. You’ve lived through this, seen all of it. You will have to live with it for the rest of your life, and yet you’re still fine with Klaus going out and being a part of it. You’re fine with the fact that all it takes is a toe out of line and Klaus is coming back home in a wooden box. And that's if they find his body.

I’m breathing hard, and my voice has started to rise again. I don’t know what I expect to see in Papa’s expression. Fear, maybe, or astonishment. I had never yelled at him like that, never raised my voice at him in all the time I'd known him. But all I see is sadness reflected in his teary blue eyes.

“Why did you sign up?” His voice is soft, much softer than mine has been in our entire conversation. “If you’re so against Klaus signing up, why did you?”

“I- I thought…” Stammering, I shove another bite of food into my mouth to avoid answering. I can never tell Papa the truth, can never tell him that I had never wanted to sign up. He can never know that, from the moment I opened that letter, I've hated Hitler and his war. I've hated the Allied forces for taking me away from Mama and Papa and I've hated the Axis powers for forcing me to leave everything I had ever loved. I nearly told him about the draft notice, but at the last minute had lied and told him I had signed up instead. Even now, I can't stand to see his disappointment if he were to learn his eldest son is a coward.

So all I say is, “I have no idea.”

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Walking through the streets of my hometown, I stare in wonder at everything that has changed. Even in the two years I’ve been gone, over half the shops have boarded up windows and yellow stars hanging from the door. Though the colorful streets are packed with people, I can’t help but notice broken beams and shattered glass litter the sidewalks.

The Jewish shops.

I don’t know where exactly I’m going. All Papa could tell me was that a new enlistment office had opened on Main Street, a few blocks away from Klaus’s school.

I hardly recognize where I am. The walls are lined with war posters and, wherever I turn my gaze, the Fuhrer meets it with a patriotic glare. Not paying attention to where I’m going, I become dizzy and disoriented. The shouts of the crowd begin to blur together in my head and it feels as though the ground is spinning beneath me. Someone shoves past me and I stumble into the middle of the road. I find myself surrounded by a drunken group of parade-goers and try to push my way past. A few slurred cheers follow me but quit as they move on to a new victim a few moments later. Noticing an empty side street, I shove through the fray with renewed vigor and burst out into it. Leaning against the wall, I pause for a moment to catch my breath. I can feel my heart slamming against my chest and gulp in the cool air, trying to calm myself down. Why had I gotten so worked up? It wasn’t as if I hadn’t been in crowded areas before.

Sighing, I push myself off the wall and look back towards the crowded street. My stomach turns at the thought of going back out into it. I’m about to give up and head back home when I see a familiar figure sitting atop a fence next to the street.

Klaus.

He’s surrounded by a couple of other boys, the group of them laughing and yelling to each other. He glances around and our eyes meet. I can see the laughter dancing on his face from all the way across the street and something swells in my chest.

I begin to push my way back out into the throng but immediately regret it. There’s no way I’m going to be able to get to the other side of the street.

I shove my way through a group of men and wince as someone’s hand smack into the back of my head. The cheering grows even louder and I try to balance on my tiptoes to see where the excitement is coming from.

I’m almost to the edge of the crowd when it happens. A loud bang, a noise like a gunshot, and then the all-too-familiar sound of terrified screams. More gunshots go off and I dive to the ground, curling into a ball and covering my ears.

I’m back in a tank on the battlefield, hurtling towards the enemy lines. I clamp my hands over my ears, trying my best to shield them against the echoing of bullets pounding on metal. People are screaming and someone's foot knocks against my head.

“Max!” A hand grabs my shoulder and I reach for my gun. An enemy must have somehow gotten into the tank. But my gun isn’t there, and the voice is still calling my name.

I curl tighter into my ball, shoving my hands against my ears to try and block out the noise. The hand still grips my shoulder, but I can’t see. They’re dragging me somewhere, and I know that they’re going to kill me. I’m shaking in terror, and I taste salty tears as more feet pound into me.

“Max!” Someone is pulling at my hands, trying to get them away from my ears, trying to get them behind me, trying to take me prisoner. The gunshots are quieter now, but that doesn’t matter.

“Max!” I aim a blind kick at my captor. My foot connects with something soft and I hear a grunt, and then all is silent.

My ears are filled with the sound of heavy breathing, and I can’t tell if it’s mine or my enemy's, or if it belongs to the both of us. My senses are beginning to shift back to reality, off of the battleground, out of the tank. Back to Germany, my hometown. Back to the parade and the crowded street, and -That’s when I realize that I can’t still be on the street, can’t still be in the crowd. It’s too quiet, too open for that. The gunshots are gone, and I wonder if they had been a figment of my imagination.

I open my eyes and look around, still dazed. I’m in a back alleyway, curled against a wall. Something flutters above me, and I jump, only to look up and see a poster of the Fuhrer flickering in the light breeze. Slowly getting to my feet, I brush my hand against my forehead and it comes away sticky with blood.

“Max?” I spin at the voice, raising my fists to block my face, ready for whoever comes at me. When I finally spot its owner, I realize that it’s a young boy with a mop of dark brown hair that swoops low over his eyes. Lowering my hands, I look closer and realize who it is. Although his hair is longer and he’s thinner - so much thinner - I’m ashamed that I hadn’t recognized him sooner.

“Klaus?” I whisper, my voice hoarse. My brother breaks into a grin and pushes himself off the wall that he’s leaning against. Suddenly, he stops, doubled over coughing and holding his chest.

“Damn, Max,” he wheezes. “You got me pretty good.” I grimace, realizing that he must have been the one I kicked.

“Es tut mir Leid. Are you okay?”

“Ja.” Smirking, he pushes himself up the wall into a standing position. “I saw you when I was hanging out with my friends. Wanna tell me what happened?” I shiver, remembering the sound of the shots and how that was all it took to send me back.

“I’m fine,” I say, pushing myself to a standing position.

“You were getting trampled, and to be honest, you look awful.”

“I’m… I’m fine,” I repeat, but I could still feel my hands shaking. “There was a gunfight, I think. In the parade. People were screaming and it was crowded, and I guess I... I freaked.”

Klaus is silent for a few seconds, and when I look up, it looks as if he’s deciding between laughter or tears.

“Those were fireworks, Max. Those people, they weren’t screaming. They were cheering.”

I look up. Fireworks? “I didn’t think we could use those anymore.”

“Maybe not in the army, but it’s not like we’re trying to hide our position here. We can use them if we want, although it’s pretty rare that I hear them go off. People trying to preserve everything and all that.” Klaus is silent for a second while I process everything that had happened, and then he sighs. “Are you sure you’re okay, Max? I’ve never seen you like… well like what I just saw.”

I shake my head, trying to clear away the tears that had formed. I feel Klaus’s arms wrap around me, and I hug him back, grateful to have someone to hold on to.

“I’m just glad you’re home,” Klaus whispers after a minute.

“So am I, kid.” Sighing, I pull him closer. “So am I.”

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Klaus and I stroll around town for a while, even stopping at one point to get streusel. It’s only when we pass by a poster talking about enlistment that I remember why I had come to find Klaus in the first place.

“So,” I start, trying to keep my tone light. “Papa told me that you’re signing up for the war.” Klaus stumbles and I see his eyes go wide.

“I - I thought I’d be home before you,” he stammers, and the corners of my mouth tilt up at the fear in his voice. Maybe next time I tell him not to do something, he might actually listen.

“And why weren’t you?”

“My friends and I went out to a bar and then the parades and -”

“Klaus! You know Mama doesn’t let us go to the parades alone! And drinking too! I can only imagine what she would do if she found out...”

“Bruder!” He turns to me in shock. “You won’t tell her, will you?” I smirk, knowing I could get anything I wanted from Klaus right now.

I’m about to do just that when a tremor rolls through the ground, pushing me into him. Another rumble sends me stumbling into the side of a nearby building, covering my head against the raining dust and debris. A loud boom echoes in the distance, from the direction of the parade.

“Please tell me those were fireworks,” I hiss at him, gasping for breath.

“The hell they were!” Klaus’s eyes dart around and his voice is raspy as he fights to gulp air back into his lungs. “We need to get outta here before the witches blow us up!”Witches? I glance around to see what he’s talking about and then realize it’s not important. We could deal with these witches once we were safe. Pushing myself off of Klaus, I look around, wishing that I had bothered to remember where we were.

“Boys!” I turn to see an older man standing in the doorway of a shop a few meters away. Grabbing Klaus’s arm, we help each other stumble to the building. I jump as another piece of wood crashes to the ground from above the door. I look down and see Becker’s Bäckerei printed in sweeping letters across the little sign. Once inside, the old man directs us down a flight of stairs to a cellar where a few other people are already huddled against the back wall. I turn back to him when he doesn’t follow us down.

“Aren’t you coming too?”Shaking his head, he moves back towards his post at the door.

“No, my child,” he says, a melancholy smile dancing across his wrinkled face. “I must stay and help any others who are lost outside. Go down and be safe now.” His eyes crinkle slightly, and I thank him one more time before Klaus and I stumble forward. I pull the door shut above us, but leave it unlocked so that anyone else who needs to can enter. A soft sob echoes from one of the other occupants before the door shuts and we’re plunged into darkness.