My Father, the Nazi

Prodigal Son

Hamburg, Germany  1919

The war had ended and Hans had  lost everything he had once held dear. His brother was dead, killed in front of him and his Anna, his sweet Anna, the girl whom he had fallen for was married to another. Now he was going back home. He spent a few months in Munich to recover from his injuries, now he could finally go home.

He didn't know what he would do, he couldn't go back to school, his mind couldn't concentrate on books after all he had witnessed. He also had to face his father, the man would surely blame him for Wilhelm's death but at least he still had his mother. He also dreaded having to face Mrs Lahm, he had grown taller and slightly more muscular since the last time he saw her but still a part of him feared her.

His eyes looked around the crowd of people as the train came to a stop, his ticket was checked before he hopped off and retrieved his luggage, luckily the army had bought him some clothes so he wouldn't have to wear the small worn out ones he had back home. He looked around the station watching his fellow soldiers being greeted by loved ones, even though he knew he had no one to greet him, he had held a glimpse of hope, however his heart was shattered once again.

He had no choice but to walk back home, luckily on his journey he had bump into a friendly man who allowed him to ride on his carriage and dropped him off not to far from his home. His eyes grew wide at the sight before him, the village had always been poor but the war had taken a toll on it. He dragged his trunk along until he reached that familiar door. He released a sigh before knocking. The door was open and he smiled at the woman in front of him.

"Mama". He said, she looked at him with wide eyes, a dirty dress that was a few sizes too big hung on her thin frame.

"Hans". She said coldly neither her voice or eyes held emotion. He frowned looking at her state.

"Come lets get you clean". He said as he entered the house, the smell of rotten food and body odour overwhelming his senses, she had gotten worse since he saw her. His mother had always been a sad woman but she always took care of the house.

He led her into the bathroom running a warm bath for her before helping her take her clothes off and into the tub. He grabbed a wash rag and a bar of soap scrubbing her body as she sat there staring into space. He then washed her sticky hair returning it to it's blonde state. He grabbed a towel and help her dry off, before lotioning her and went to his trunk to retrieve the dress he had bought her. After he had finished dressing her, he began cleaning the house, after he was finished he took some of the money he had saved and bought some food from the corner store. He cooked supper, he knew that his mother had most likely not eaten in days. He dished up a small amount for him and a large amount for her before taking a seat next to her, sighing in exhaustion. His body ached in every place.

"Where's Papa". He asked the woman who was hungrily digging into her food.

"Drinking". She said and he nodded.

"Your brother is dead, Wilhelm is dead". His mother said, although she had raised him since he was a small child, Wilhelm was not her son. Hans' father had been married before to a young Italian woman named Maria, who unfortunately died giving birth to Wilhelm.

"I know".He nodded suddenly losing his appetite as tears threatened to fall.

"Why didn't you protect him, you know your father loved him. Now he's dead but you're here. It should have been you, it would be easier for everyone". She said, he couldn't help but let the tears roll down his cheek, he knew it to be the truth, his father loved Wilhelm more than him but hearing it from his mother broke his heart, perhaps she loved Wilhelm more than him too.

He released a soft sob wiping his tears, he yearned for his mother to reach out to him, hug him and tell him that she loved him and everything was going to be fine. He was wrapped up in his own thoughts when he heard the door being pushed open with a force. His eyes grew wide in fear at the man standing at the door.

"Papa". He whispered meeting his father's cold gaze, he could tell that the man was beyond fuming. He stumbled into the house, his gaze not shifting from Hans.

"You're back". He spat slamming the door closed behind him. Hans swallowed hard from the look his father was giving him.

"Yes". He replied watching his father walk slowly towards him.

"And you sit there crying like a little girl whilst my son is dead". He spat now face to face with his son.

"I'm sorry, I .....". He didn't even finish his sentence when his father's fist connected with his jaw sending him tumbling back. He tried to recover before he was hit with another this time to his ribs he fell down coughing loudly. His eyes drifted to his mother who just sat in the corner silently watching.

"Get up coward". He was grabbed by his shirt and brought back up to his feet before being punched on his chest where he had been shot, he screamed in pain as he fell to the floor.

"You're weak,my son is dead because you're weak". His father said kicking him. He was beginning to cough up blood and was trying to get away from the man.

"I'm sorry papa". He cried which earned him a kick to the stomach.

"Pathetic". His father said spitting on him before leaving the room calling out to his mother. She knelt next to him as he tried moving but the pain in his body made it impossible, his body shook in painful sobs.

"Stop crying, men don't cry. Don't be weak Hans". She said.

"Margaret!". He heard his father call out causing his mother to jump up.

"Stop being weak Hans". She said before walking out of the room, leaving him beaten and battered on the living room floor. He had no idea what the future held for him but Hans knew he had to get out of that place, he no longer had a reason to be there.