Author's Note: I wrote this story as part of my final exam in 10th grade (May 2003). I got a 6 (A+) on it. The task was to "write a story where you show how important it is to make own choices instead of just following the crowd".
The story takes place in Germany during World War II, and was inspired by Anne Frank's Diary and Schindler's List. (Note to those who didn't know: "Adolf" means "Noble wolf".)
Please review, it would mean a lot to me. Constructive criticism is always welcome, just bear in mind that this was written in two hours at school and you shouldn't have too high hopes because of that. *grin*
"A wolf breaks his chain"
by aurora borealis
The train screeched to a halt outside the iron-cast gate, and the soldiers went to the doors of the goods wagons. I schooled my face into an emotionless, hard mask. The prisoners stumbled out from the wagons into the cold November air, and huddled together in scared groups. I turned away from the terrified faces and focused instead on the gate I was supposed to open. At the top of it there were written three words: "Arbeit macht frei" - "Work makes freedom". That was a lie, of course. When you had gotten behind those gates, you never came out again.
At least not alive.
I used to feel proud that I was a German soldier, that I was named after the same animal as our great leader. Adolf Hitler and Martin Blauwolf. The wolf is supposed to be a proud creature. I wasn't feeling very proud at the moment.
The gates were open, and the prisoners were starting to file in. I focused on a point above the moving heads and tried to ignore the crying and yelling. A baby was taken from his mother's arms, and I could hear her hysterical cries as she pleaded to have him back.
I tried to ignore it, telling myself like I had so many times before that soon enough she would have other things to worry about than the loss of her son. It didn't help this time.
Finally the last prisoners were inside and I could close the gates. As I made my way towards the barracks - I was off-duty until suppertime - I heard a voice call my name.
"Private Blauwolf!" I turned around to see the Commander's secretary stride towards me. Nobody in the Army runs to catch up with people. Running is undignified.
"Yes?" I asked.
"The Commander wants to see you in his office," the secretary said. "Immediately." I nodded and went with him to the office. He knocked on the door.
"Yes?" a deep voice answered.
"Private Blauwolf is here to see you, sir," the secretary said.
"Bring him in, Eric." The secretary opened the door and motioned for me to get inside.
The Commander was a stocky man, with broad shoulders and a belly just starting to turn to fat. He was in his mid-forties and could have been anyone's favourite uncle - if it hadn't been for the eyes. They were a light blue, and became cold and expressionless whenever anybody said the word "Jew".
Right now, though, he was smiling and standing up to greet me. "Private Blauwolf," he said.
"Sir," I replied and saluted. He returned the salute and sat down again, arranging some papers on his desk.
"I have heard some reports about you lately, Private Blauwolf," he said without preamble. I went cold. The last person to have been "reported" had joined the Jews in the showers.
"Sir?" I asked, my heart beating a hole in my chest.
"It seems like you are having some problems doing your regular duty," the Commander said.
"I, ah, seem to be suffering from homesickness, sir," I said, thinking fast.
"Oh?" He seemed humoured. "Tell me, Private Blauwolf, how long have you been stationed here?"
"Two years, sir."
"And how old are you?"
"Twenty, sir."
"So, after two years, you start feeling homesick? I'm surprised it didn't start sooner."
"It's my girlfriend's birthday today," I said.
"Oh, and she's living back in Berlin, is she?" He seemed to be having a hard time not smiling. I relaxed a tiny bit.
"Yes, sir."
"Then wouldn't she be happy to know that her boyfriend is getting transferred?" He grinned openly now. I gaped at him, speechless. "Well?" he asked impatiently.
"Er, yes, sir," I said. "I'm sure she would."
"Good," he said, handing me some papers. "You are leaving with the morning train to Berlin tomorrow. Here are your instructions."
I nodded numbly and saluted before excusing myself. I went to the barracks, still a bit shocked over the news.
It had been a strange day.
The train station in Berlin was teeming with people. Soldiers were everywhere, and I tried to spot the one who was coming to pick me up. Finally I spotted a sergeant standing beside one of the information desks.
"Private Blauwolf?" he asked as I came towards him. I nodded, and he smiled. "I'm Sergeant Kreusswurst, Search squad leader in Berlin Internal affairs. I'm your new superior officer."
"Sir," I said. "Internal affairs" was the official name for the branch in the army who dealt with Jews.
"You came directly from Auschwitz?" he asked me as he steered us through the crowd towards the exits. I nodded affirmation. "I bet you want some rest then," he said, turning to look at me.
"A night's sleep would be nice, sir," I said.
"Good. I'll show you where you are supposed to live. The swine hunting will start tomorrow."
"Sir," I said neutrally. Remembering the faces of the prisoners at Auschwitz, I wasn't sure who should be called swines.
The house I was supposed to search had already been searched once, but Kreusswurst made a point of searching each house twice. He said it made the Jews careless.
There were three soldiers in all who were going to search the house, one for each floor. I was assigned to the uppermost one. As I checked the walls in the third room on the floor for any hollow sounds, I suddenly heard the sound of a crying baby. I froze and checked the left wall once more for any crevices. The room was decorated with blue-spotted wallpaper, and as my hand pressed one slightly larger spot near the corner a hidden door slid open.
I was staring down at a young woman clutching a little child to her chest. Her huge, panic-filled eyes met mine.
"Hey, Martin! Did you find anything?" one of the other soldiers called up to me. I opened my mouth to answer, but froze again. Suddenly I had a vision of how the woman would look after a year in Auschwitz. Her eyes, already large, would look enormous in her hollow face, and her body would be more bone than flesh. Those arms, that now held her child so strongly against her, wouldn't seem like more than sticks, and the child itself…
"Hey, Martin! You asleep or what? What's taking so long?"
I shook myself out of the vision. "Sorry, guys," I called to the others. "There's nothing up here." I closed the hidden door and walked out of the room, not looking back.