Dangerous Territory

Nazis Have Mothers Too

Eren patrolled around the house, checking on his men. A group of the new recruits had come over to play cards. Connie rambled off jokes. Thomas busied himself in the kitchen cooking stew, humming happily at the chance to use real spices. Armin sat at a table pouring over a map (he always seemed to have maps) and Jean looked over with reserved interest as he polished his gun. Franz chewed on a fountain pen as he wrote a letter. Eren paused by the soldat, and Franz quickly hid the note.

"Who is she?" he asked with a knowing smile. When a soldier hid a letter that quickly, it was not some message to friends or family back home.

"My girl, Hannah," he answered.

"That's a pretty name. Are you going to marry her?"

Franz blushed almost to burgundy. "We ... We married in secret after I joined the Wehrmacht. She's pregnant now and finally had to tell her parents about the marriage."

"Congratulations! You're going to go home to a strong and healthy baby," Eren promised, clapping him on the back.

Thomas looked over from the kitchen. "Are you going to be a father, Franz?"

"Ah, y-yeah," he said bashfully.

"We should celebrate," declared Jean.

Eren chuckled and shook his head. "You take any excuse to get drunk on French wine."

Jean could hardly disagree with that. "Sure, but I'd rather have a French woman."

Connie laughed loudly in agreement. "I'd even take a Jewish woman at this point."

Jean glared. "That's sick."

"What about you, Herr Leutnant?" asked Franz. "Do you have a girl back home?"

"Me?" Eren asked in amusement.

"Here we go again," Armin muttered with a chuckle.

Proudly, Eren declared, "Germany is my mother, my wife, and my lover. I need no other woman."

Jean confided to Franz, "He would say that to all the girls in Paris who flirted with him when we were stationed there. And don't try telling him Germany is the Fatherland, not the Motherland. He's sticking to it like an idiot."

Eren let them be a little unruly this time. "Some men dedicate themselves to raising the next generation. That is a high honor and the duty of any good Aryan. Some prefer to dedicate themselves to fighting so that the next generation does not have to. I'd rather forgo the comforts of a wife and family if it means Germany is victorious."

"What about after the war?" asked Franz. "You could raise a family, a miniature army of little Jägers."

Jean burst out in a laugh at that. "A bunch of tiny Eren Jägers squeaking Heil Hitler! That's a terrifying thought. One is enough."

Eren shook his head. "There will always be fighting. When Germany conquers all of Europe, there will still be resistance, like this town. Partisans must be dealt with swiftly and effectively." He patted Franz's shoulder. "But you never know, right? Perhaps one day I'll fall in love, but lately there hasn't been much opportunity."

Jean leaned back with dreamy eyes. "I need a good woman."

Connie joshed, "Is your hand not enough?"

The group burst into laughter.

Eren was happy to see how their small platoon got along so well. They had all been through so much, seen deaths, buried comrades in mass trenches, and marched together, days of marching through rainy hills and summer heat. They were closer due to it all. Eren wanted to hope that things would never change, this camaraderie would last beyond the war, and one day they would be like those old men who sit around smoking pipes and musing idly about the old days. It was a nice dream, but he knew the chance of all of them surviving was slim. He had buried enough of his platoon to no longer think they were beyond the scythe of Death.