Trigger Warning: This chapter contains homophobic slurs and suicidal thoughts.
I've been admonished in the comments for not using more trigger warnings. In my own defense, I write professionally (it's actually my job) and neither life nor literature come with trigger warnings. Psychological studies have shown that trigger warnings can actually be harmful for people with PTSD. So my choice not to use them every single time something is "triggering" (a term people toss around so much that it has lost its very real and debilitating meaning) is based on psychological studies as well as personal preference.
For this chapter, I feel a caution is needed, just a moment to take a deep breath and realize: this is fiction, and you can use the safe space that literature provides to come to terms with your trauma and grow.
I'm not going to coddle you; I'm going to challenge you to be strong. Because I know you are!
https://www.psypost.org/2018/08/study-finds-evidence-that-trigger-warnings-can-be-psychologically-harmful-52007https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/happiness-and-the-pursuit-leadership/201808/harvard-study-trigger-warnings-might-coddle-the
—
Deep breath. Now, let's go check in on Levi and Yelena.
# # #
# #
#
Deep under the streets of Metz, in a cold and damp tunnel, Levi sat at a desk in a rickety shed, his head buried in his hands. Beside him, headphones for a radio had been thrown aside, still with the sounds of German, French, and English sputtering out.
Blame it on the dampness, but Levi sniffled.
Quietly, Yelena entered the tiny shack that was her office. She saw Levi slumped over and frowned.
"I take it you heard."
His eyes lifted enough to glare at her. In those eyes, deep-set with dark circles under them, she saw a tint of pink around the eyelids. Not that Levi would ever allow himself to cry openly.
She whispered, "You have my sympathies."
"Shut the fuck up," he grumbled. "He could be alive."
Yelena's lips twisted to hold back more words. Instead, she forced up a fake smile. "Of course he could." The reports were that no German survivors were found, but she reasoned that it was best to let Levi hold onto hope. "What's the latest?"
"Not much. General Patton visited Maizières-lès-Metz. I bet he's so fucking proud of himself."
"He should be. It was quite a victory."
Levi slumped his head back down. Yes, a victory for the Allies. A whole battalion of Germans slaughtered, and the Americans lost only fifty-five men. Maizières-lès-Metz was a massacre.
"Victory just means you killed more little boys," Levi muttered. "What sort of sick person celebrates that?"
"You only feel that way because you have someone on the other side. We must think of the whole war. How many more would die if we did not fight?"
"That's the sort of bullshit they want you to believe. I was an assassin, I know that better than any of you." Levi's brow furrowed hard. "That's why I've taught your men, don't look them in the eyes. It's easier when you don't humanize the person you've murdered. The minute you realize they have a name, a family, a child," he said, his eyes staring off hollowly, "is the day you can no longer continue to be a soldier. At least, not without completely losing your humanity."
Yelena stepped up to Levi and lowered her voice. "Don't talk like that in front of my men. Half of them would quit."
"Good! They should before they get themselves killed."
She patted him on the shoulder. "Take the day off, Levi. Pray, grieve—"
"Grieve for what? He's alive!" Levi screamed, but he felt a lump choke up in his throat. He immediately slumped back down so Yelena could not see the burning in his eyes. He whispered, "What have I got to do anyway?"
"How about reading? I have something for you. I went to visit our klai Frend in the brothel. Carly said she got a letter from Louise."
"From who?"
Yelena chuckled that he already forgot about her. "Your boyfriend's wife."
Levi made a sickened growl deep in his throat. "Is this your perverse idea of cheering me up?"
"Carly said you should see it. I haven't looked at it yet, but maybe it's good news." She reached into an inner coat pocket and pulled out the letter.
Levi sat up, slightly intrigued. If this was from Louise, but Carly said Levi should see it, then it must be about Eren. He glanced over Louise's letter. The beginning was full of inane pleasantries, nothing more than thanking Carly for her help and apologizing for not writing to her sooner. Finally, he saw the important part.
* * *
I've been in contact with Eren Jäger over the past month. His letters were at first hopeful, but they soon became concerning. I know that being able to talk about the war must have helped him, and I wrote back to him because he often said that my letters were a comfort to him.
However, I received a letter today that truly worries me. He's asked me not to come to Metz, and my parents have forbidden me from leaving, but something must be done.
Dear Madame Carly, I am so deeply concerned for his safety, but I don't know what to do. If I am to be a wife, I feel like I'm failing.
Perhaps you know people in Metz who can help.
I hate to ask you a favor after all you did to help me, but I simply can't shake off the fear. As dark as his more recent letters have become, none were quite like this, and I seriously am worried for him.
* * *
The letter went on, but Levi quickly pulled out another piece of paper written with messier penmanship.
Had Eren been writing letters to Louise the whole time? It made sense. He had to act like a married man, after all. Still, a part of Levi felt jealous. He had spent over a month worrying about Eren without any way of knowing if he was alive or dead. Now here was a letter, written only one day ago, according to the date on the top.
He realized right away that the letter was in German. "Can you translate this?" he asked Yelena.
She pulled a chair up beside Levi and took the letter. Immediately, she saw the German script. "Is it from Eren?"
"Please, tell me what it says."
Please? Levi really must be desperate if he was being polite. She looked at the letter and translated it for him.
* * *
30 October 1944
Dear Louise,
This morning, I woke up in the army hospital back in Metz. Apparently, I was unconscious for two days from a head injury. The doctors have taken me off duty for two weeks while I recover, but they said my progress looks good.
I got really lucky. Not many men can claim they were shot in the head twice and lived.
* * *
"What the hell!" Levi cried out in horror. Eren had been shot in the head?
Yelena paused. "Shall I continue?"
"Yes," he snapped, but already his heart was racing with fear.
* * *
Much has happened, but I don't have the nerve to tell you the details. A young woman like you should not even visualize such nightmares.
Suffice it to say, of the thirty men in my platoon who came with me to Machern-bei-Metz, only three are not dead, missing, or wounded. If Armin, Connie, and Jarnach had not dragged me away, I would have been another corpse on a pile of concrete rubble.
I don't know what will become of me now. Part of me hopes my injury is enough to send me back home, but we are in desperate need of officers, so that's unlikely. Perhaps I'll get a new platoon.
Another one to kill off.
I no longer feel adequate to be an officer. I would only be leading more men to their deaths, and that's a burden that weighs on one's soul. Then again, we knew that there was no retreating from Metz. Surrender or death: those are the only options.
Death. That should have been my fate.
It's unfair that I'm alive when all the others are dead.
I probably should say something nice, like how your prayers are what got me through all that, but sometimes it feels like living when all your friends are dead is the true Hell. Their faces will haunt me for years to come.
I failed them.
I should be dead too. (scratched out angrily)
Sorry about that. Ignore that part.
I want to thank you for your letters over the past month. I came to really enjoy writing to you. Part of me even daydreamed about taking you to Cuxhaven one day to show you the beauty of the North Sea. I know our marriage is a farce, but it was a nice thing to think about as the bullets raced overhead.
Please, PLEASE don't come to Metz. You are safe on your family's farm, so no matter what becomes of me, just let my fate happen. I probably deserve it.
If I could ask anything of you, it's to pray that this battle is finished swiftly, so I can be put out of my misery.
That is, if I don't end it all first.
Yours, unworthy but alive, for now,
Eren Jäger
* * *
If Levi was barely holding back tears when he heard about the massacre in Maizières-lès-Metz, he was failing now. His hand covered his mouth, as if he had to press his lips closed to stop them from screaming. Despite all of his straining to hold back, a single tear made an escape down Levi's cheek.
"That goddamn idiot," he whispered. "He's alive. He's fucking alive! And he's talking like he wants to kill himself. You fucking idiot, Eren!"
"It's pretty common," Yelena said, also looking disturbed by the tone of the letter. "When you've experienced hell, death seems like a mercy."
Levi bolted up.
Yelena was quicker and slid over to the doorway to block his path. "Don't tell me you plan to go to the military hospital."
Levi snarled at her. "Yes!"
"No," she ordered. "Don't make me tie you up again."
"Fuck you! I need to stop him before he puts a bullet in his brain."
"And what do you expect to do? Waltz in there and ask a German doctor where your boyfriend is?"
Levi bared his teeth at her. "You know I can beat you in a fight."
"And I would have no qualms with breaking your foot again, if it means you don't head out there. You just got your cast off, you can't run yet, so think about this before you barge out. You can't go into that hospital as Levi Ackerman." She smiled slyly. "But there's one person who could go in there to see Eren Jäger."
He saw what she meant. "Louise."
"I'll go with you. Someone has to talk to the Germans."
"You're willing to risk it?" he asked in surprise. Yelena was extremely cautious, after all.
"No," she admitted honestly, "but Carly asked me to help you out, and when it's a request from her, I've never been able to say no. Damn her, but she really likes the idea of you two being a cute couple." She chuckled and patted Levi on the head, much to his annoyance. "Get dressed, Louise, and I'll take you to go see your husband."
* * *
Eren sat in a sterile room, staring blankly into a fiery oblivion. A nurse occasionally came by to check on things and kept offering him water.
It was a kind offer, but not what he needed.
Faces swirled past him, getting sucked away into a flaming void. He kept smelling smoke, although he knew that was impossible. When a door down the hall slammed shut, he jolted and reached for his gun.
Maybe he should have taken up that doctor's offer for a tranquilizer.
He looked over at the hospital bed. Armin was asleep, hooked up to tubes and fluids. A massive white bandage covered his head, thick enough to be a turban. Under that huge wrap, Armin's brain was fighting a war of its own.
Eren knew that he did not need to sit here in the room, he had been told many times to go to the officer's hotel and rest.
No! How could he leave Armin when he was vulnerable?
Armin was one of the few men in his platoon left. How could he abandon him?
Besides, if he left this hospital, he had no idea what he might end up doing. So, he had sat there since the previous day. Maybe he should go check on the others in the platoon, but Armin was his friend.
Armin had saved his life, almost at the sacrifice of his own.
Eren looked down at his arms wrapped in bandages. The burns still hurt, but they would heal. He had a concussion, but he was assured that it was improving. He would be on limited duty for two weeks, after which, so long as he did not experience dizziness and more blackouts, he was cleared for duty.
How did he get so damn lucky?
The Luck of the Devil.
Or was it a hellish curse?
Just as his mind slipped into darker thoughts, he heard a soft moan. Eren sat up as Armin's head lulled and a deep breath sucked in. Slowly, his eyes opened, flinched, and tried to open again. He glanced around in confusion, then finally looked over to where Eren was seated.
"Where are we?" he whispered with a crackly, dry throat.
"Back in Metz. You've been asleep for a few days."
"We made it," he realized quietly. "Are you okay?"
Eren managed a friendly smile. "Don't worry about me. I'll have some scars, but not too bad."
"Your head?"
"A concussion. I was unconscious for a few days, but I'm getting better."
"Is Moblit in charge of the platoon?"
Eren's mouth dropped, and then he looked aside in grief. "You shouldn't worry about that."
"Eren?" Seeing the pain in his lieutenant's face, Armin guessed enough. "Who's leading the men still in the town hall? Luke? Jarnach?"
The town hall! Eren's eyes burned. He knew he had to steel his nerves. For days, he had been thinking about how to break the news to Armin, but now that it was time, he still had no idea which way was best.
"You ... You should drink something. I can get a nurse."
"Eren," Armin said firmly. "Give it to me straight. You know me."
Yes, he knew Armin preferred to be told facts, no matter how brutal. It was just so damn hard to say the truth out loud. It made the loss that much more real.
"Machern-bei-Metz ... fell three days ago. That howitzer ... it demolished everything. The town hall, the train station. Everything! Connie helped me get you to safety. Jarnach reached the medics with the wounded. Floch is safe. Now you're awake."
Armin looked horrified. "Are you saying, we're all that's left?"
Acid shot up into Eren's throat, and he struggled to swallow it back down. It burned so much!
"Twenty-one dead, nine made it back alive, but only three are not wounded." He looked down at his arm. He counted as one of the wounded, at least for now. "According to the Americans, they found no survivors inside the town hall. Moblit at the others ... their bodies were ... uncovered by the Americans. An artillery shell hit near their location. The whole company, the whole battalion ... gone."
A pain stabbed his heart, something he had been keeping shoved down, but now, admitting it, trying but failing to be positive, the grief hurt.
"We lost so many men, and for what? What was it all for? What the fuck was it all for?" he yelled. Eren slammed his eyes shut as a tear slipped down. "Sorry. I shouldn't shout when your head must hurt."
Armin had tears running down his cheeks. "It's all right. You can shout, because I don't think I can. I want to, but I feel like I'll pass out if I try."
Eren reached forward and covered Armin's hand. "I'm really glad you're alive. We didn't know if you'd even wake up."
"Why? And why does my head hurt so much?"
Eren looked him over. Armin's first worries were for his teammates, not even for himself. Did he not realize what happened to him? "What's the last thing you remember?"
Armin stared out, struggling to recall anything. "A hand sticking up out of the rubble. Thomas and Franz."
"The building collapsed."
"I think I remember that. We were running."
"You were hit on the head with a large piece of concrete. It was ... pretty bad. It ... It crushed part of your skull inward. The doctors had to remove the top of your skull and pick out pieces of bone from your brain. They said they'll need to replace your skull with a steel plate, but they have to wait for the swelling on your brain to go down."
Armin stared straight ahead, looking so dazed, Eren began to wonder if he was slipping back into his coma.
"Trepanning," he muttered. "Cranioplasty."
Eren had no idea what those words meant. Was Armin talking gibberish?
Armin swayed as his mind moved away from medical terminology. "The ... The building collapsed." He squinted, like he only vaguely recalled that. "I don't recall getting hit."
"It knocked you out instantly. You weren't responding."
"How did I get out of there? You could barely walk."
"You can thank Connie for that. If it wasn't for him, you and I would not have made it out of there before the Americans stormed the town."
He smiled through the pain. "Good old Connie. How long do they think I'll be in the hospital?"
Eren felt a pang in his chest. "I don't know." He reached down and squeezed Armin's hand. "The fact that you woke up is a miracle."
"I'll get better soon. If we get new recruits to fill out the platoon, you're going to need my help."
Still looking happy, Eren shook his head. "I'm having you sent home."
The news stunned Armin. "What? N-No!" He flinched at the shout and held his bandaged head. "I'm okay. It's just a headache. They can fix my skull, and I'll be back to help."
Eren shook his head, although he saw how this was breaking Armin's heart. "I don't know how long it'll be before they can repair your head, or if they are even able to do that in Metz. They may need to send you to Saint-Avold. The doctor says it could be months before you completely heal. I already put in a request for you to be transported back to Germany. You'll leave as soon as the doctors say you're stable."
"No! Eren!"
He squeezed Armin's hand. "You'll be safe. At least I can save you. I need at least one of us to survive this, someone who will remember us all."
Armin did not like the fatalistic tone in Eren's voice. He shook his head in sobbing stubbornness. "I'll be fine, really. I'm not leaving you!"
Coldly, Eren said, "It's not your decision, Stabsgefreiter Arlelt."
Armin's mouth dropped. Rarely did Eren address him by his rank. Plus that look in his eyes! It was like he no longer saw Armin as his friend, but just another soldier. He was already distancing himself emotionally so the separation would be easier.
Eren stood up and pulled on his cap. He looked down at Armin, his head bandaged from where surgeons had to remove the crushed pieces of his skull and protected it with a temporary cap and thick bandages due to cerebral swelling. If they had not done something so drastic, Armin would have ended up permanently brain damaged. As it was, they were not sure how badly he had suffered mentally, and if the brain damage had affected his motor skills.
He could no longer fight.
Which wasn't a bad thing at all.
"Jarnach is in charge of what's left," he told Armin. "It's a shame, really. I would have loved to have you as my NCO, but this is the best I can do for you. At least this way, I can guarantee that you'll survive." He patted Armin on the shoulder and whispered, "I pray you live a long life, with a caring partner by your side and lots of children, and I hope you'll tell them, once upon a time, you marched into battle with heroes."
Then Eren sharply turned aside, and his heels clicked hard as he marched away.
"Eren," Armin cried out. "You need me. The platoon needs me."
"There is no platoon anymore," Eren said as he walked out the door.
"Please, I'll get better. This is nothing. I'll heal up. Eren? Eren! Oberleutnant Jäger!" he cried out in a wail.
Eren walked away, his jaw clenched but his face firm. A passing nurse heard the yells.
"Is he awake?" she asked Eren.
"Yes. Take good care of him."
"I will get the doctor right away."
She hurried off, and Eren kept marching through the hospital. Wounded soldiers lined the halls, bandaged up and waiting to either get a room or receive that bad news that they had to go back out into the battle.
Part of him wished Armin could have remained unconscious a few more days, until after he was back home in Germany. This was the best he could do for him, to get him sent out of the battle zone with the rest of the wounded who were falling back, leaving only those who could still fight to face the artillery fire of General George S. Patton.
Down the hall, he saw Captain Kitz Woermann coming forward, walking on a cane with his left leg limping. He saluted, and the captain nodded back.
"Good afternoon, Jäger. I was about to check on the wounded."
"Armin can no longer fight, Captain. His spirit is fierce, but his body will need months to heal. If possible, I request that he only get temporary medical leave. Germany needs men like him, those who can plan battles even if they can no longer fight. I also request he get a medal. He saved my life."
"I read your report. Pulled you right out an inferno! That's the sort of bravery only Aryans possess." Kitz pulled out a box. "I have his Iron Cross right here. When I heard of his heroism, I requested he be awarded right away. Also, here." He pulled out another cardboard box, and inside was both a bronze and a silver Close Combat Bar, the pin shining in the hospital lights with a bayonet and hand grenade crossed below the Nazi national emblem. He also handed over the award documents for each bar.
Eren numbly took the pins, and he clipped the silver one on above his ribbon bar. "I'm honored, sir."
"Every man in the company who made it to the end will receive a silver combat bar, as well as every wounded man who made it to twenty days."
Eren held back his bitterness as he glared at the silver pin on Kitz's uniform, and then down to his lame leg. "I believe that's only you, sir. The rest of the wounded had to stay."
Stay and die!
The captain got out of that battle just as it was getting bad. If only his lost men could have had that sort of luck.
Kitz's eyes narrowed at him. "Is something the matter, Oberleutnant Jäger?"
Eren snapped up stiffly. "Of course not, Herr Hauptmann. I hope your leg has healed. It'll be a hard battle from here to the end."
Kitz's jaw twitched. "I wish I could say it was healing at the same speed yours did, but alas, my age must be slowing my recovery. Not that I'm giving up! Come with me, Jäger," he said, changing his voice to a lighter tone. "You should be there when I present the Iron Cross to Stabsgefreiter Arlelt."
"No," Eren sighed. "He's mad at me for telling him he's too injured to fight."
Kitz nodded thoughtfully. "A strong conviction, the sign of a true Aryan. They're evacuating the wounded, but I heard he's not stable enough to transport yet."
"That's true. He'll need another surgery to fix his skull, and then they need to run more tests on his brain and neck. It's a miracle he woke up."
Kitz clasped Eren on the shoulder. "I know this must be tough for you. You lost half of your platoon in Anzio, and now this! None of it was your fault. Remember that!"
Eren nodded unsteadily.
"As officers, we see tragedies and must force ourselves to push on. As the Führer said, 'Everything on this earth can be made into something better. Every defeat may be made the foundation of a future victory. Every lost war may be the cause of a later resurgence.' No matter the outcome of a battle, or even this whole war, the spirit of the German people will never die. It will be stronger than ever before!"
Those words actually comforted Eren. "Hitler is wise."
"Wise and prophetic, a man chosen by God." Kitz gave Eren's shoulder another squeeze. "That battle was like an anvil getting hit by a hammer, but you are the blade this war is shaping and tempering. It will beat out all the impurities in your blood, and you will rise from the forge strong, sharp, pure ... an Aryan blade!" Kitz frowned slightly and muttered under his breath so no one else would hear them, "Perhaps because your blood is impure, God wants you to have more of a beating."
Eren looked up, startled by that brutal insult about his heritage. "What?"
"Surely, God sees the strength of Aryan blood within you, since he has brought you this far. There's just that tiny drop of impurity." His eyes flicked around as a nurse walked by. "We won't speak of such unpleasantness here. You lost some good men, but you brought the rest back. You proved your racial superiority in battle. Be proud."
How could Eren be proud now that he questioned whether his mixed race was the reason for his men being butchered?
"As you rest, I have an assignment for you."
"Yes, sir." Anything to atone for his losses.
"Read Mein Kampf again. Take Hitler's words to heart. Your body has Aryan strength, your mind has Aryan wit." He poked Eren in the chest. "Make sure your heart beats only Aryan blood. Then God will surely bless you with victory."
"Sieg heil!" Eren shouted.
Kitz chuckled and patted his shoulder roughly as he walked by, limping on the cane.
Eren left the hospital. The sky was clear, but that brought a biting chill. He pulled his collar up against an icy breeze as he walked over to a car.
Floch had hollow eyes, also lost in grief, but he managed a smile when he saw Eren come up.
"How long have you been waiting out here?" asked Eren.
"Not long. Woermann came to the barracks to give Jarnach his promotion and Connie a medal. He said he was going to give Armin one too, so I followed him. There's not much else to do. Is Armin finally awake?"
Eren nodded. "He didn't take the news about evacuating well."
"He's loyal to you, sir. Can I take you anywhere?"
"Just take me back to the hotel. Hopefully there's a spare room."
"It's already been arranged and your bags sent to the room. Keys are at the front desk."
Eren smiled wearily. "I can always count on you, Floch."
"Yes, sir!"
Eren climbed into the car, and Floch started up the engine. They drove through the nearly-empty streets. Few civilians were left, only German trucks, motorcycles, and horses. Eren stared out at the soldiers standing around the sidewalks or swiftly marching to another part of the city.
Under his breath, he wondered, "How many of them will make it?"
"What was that, sir?" asked Floch.
"Nothing."
They arrived at the hotel. Floch jumped out of the car and opened up the door for Eren. He got out and looked around. He could not pinpoint why, but the place seemed different.
"It's less busy," Floch noted.
Was that it? Fewer people? Eren supposed that many of the officers who had been set up in this hotel were off fighting in the various battles all around Metz.
"Is there anything I can bring you? Food? Beer?"
"It's fine. I'll probably rest in my room for the next few days until we're told our new orders," he said. Floch frowned deeply at that. "Is something wrong?"
"New orders," he mumbled. "It feels like we should be given time. You know, to ... to mourn and ... and come to grips with losing everyone. Connie said, after Anzio, the platoon got to rest in Paris for two weeks. That's when me and the rest of the new crew joined on."
Eren nodded slowly, remembering those April days in Paris like it was all part of a dream. "Well, I'm still off duty for two weeks, so perhaps we'll all get a small break."
"Maybe. But no cute Parisian girls around. Only the distant sound of bombing."
Eren could hear it even now, tanks and howitzers many kilometers away, the blasts echoing all the way to the city. "The enemy won't wait for mourners. I just hope those of you who are left aren't sent to another platoon while I recover." He looked down at his bandaged arm. "I want to get back to my duties as quickly as I can so I don't lose you guys."
Floch looked near tears. "There's no way we'll accept being transferred. You're our commander!"
Eren mumbled, "You won't have a choice. Besides, you'd probably be better off with someone else. Obviously, I'm bad at keeping my men alive."
"That's not true! You can't blame yourself for the Americans killing a whole battalion. That has nothing to do with you as a leader. You got us through all that. You made sure we knew how to fight. That was my first real battle, and ... and it was terrifying at first, but you made sure we had someone who inspired us and guided us. You kept our hopes up. You were constantly encouraging us. I'm here now because of you, Oberleutnant Jäger!"
Eren smiled sadly. He really wished he could believe those words, but all he felt was the pain of the loss.
Floch looked crestfallen. "Get some rest," he said quietly. "Maybe you just need a night in a real bed."
Eren nodded, and he turned into the hotel. He walked up to the front desk, where a tall man with a long face, black hair, and dark circles under his brown eyes stood behind the counter. Lines etched deeply into his brow and along the corners of his eyes, showing a life full of stress. Eren vaguely recalled that this was the hotel manager, Djel Sannes.
"I'm Oberleutnant Eren Jäger. I was told a room was reserved for me here."
"Understood, Herr Oberleutnant." He turned to a filing cabinet, softly repeating "Jäger, Jäger" to himself.
Eren glanced around as he waited. The hotel foyer was far from the bustling hub it had been before, with lieutenant and captains mixing with higher-ranked officers. Off to the side, he saw two familiar faces.
"Holger and Wim," he whispered to himself, a tiny smile creeping up on his lips. "I'll be back," he told the manager, and he walked up to the two lieutenants. "Good afternoon, gentlemen."
Wim nodded in quiet acknowledgment. Holger turned around and burst into a grin.
"Jäger! Thank God, you're alive! We heard about Machern-bei-Metz. I feared the worse."
"I would say I got lucky, but..." Eren lifted his bandaged arm.
"Burns?" asked Wim.
"Let's just say, the fires of Hell got too close for my liking. I put a few of those shitty Americans on a swift boat to Satan with my own flamethrower."
"You, with a flamethrower?" laughed Holger. "Oh, I wish I could have seen that."
Eren thought back to the screams of agony and smell of burned human flesh. "You probably never want to see it."
"Are you otherwise all right?" asked Wim.
Eren jolted out of the horrific memories. "Not fully. I was shot in the head. The helmet saved my life, but the bullet got close enough to cut the skin and knock my brain around a bit. I'm off for a week or two, but I plan to be right back on the frontlines as soon as the doctors clear me."
"Always a warrior!" Holger said in admiration.
"Jean Kirschtein is back," Wim told him.
"What? Really?"
Holger nodded. "Yes, about a week ago. I'm not sure what happened to him in the south, but ... well, let's just say, you're more likely to find him at a beer hall passed out in a puddle of his own vomit."
Wim's brow furrowed. "He told me a little. They took on heavy fire but were ordered to stand their ground. He disobeyed, ordered his men to retreat, and that got him into trouble. He was relieved of his platoon. I heard they almost executed him for insubordination, but his company commander stood up for him, said he made the call out of good intention. This being his first time out as a commissioned officer, and disobeying orders like that, it doesn't look good for his career."
"Fuck his career!" Eren snapped. "If he can save his men, that's all that matters." At least Jean managed to save his platoon, whereas he... "What about the others?"
Holger told him, "Greiz, Daz, and Samuel are still around. Surma's been gone for a few days. He didn't mention being deployed, but he's rather the quiet sort anyway. Phil was sent south shortly after Jean. I heard he was killed."
"And Oliver?" asked Eren.
Holger and Wim exchanged a cautious glance to one another.
Holger whispered, "That's right, you wouldn't know. It happened just a few days after you left. Oliver ... he..." Holger's face cringed up.
Wim stated it bluntly. "He was caught with a man, arrested on charges of homosexuality, and discharged from the military."
Eren's mouth dropped. "Homosexual? But ... But he has a wife. He has children!"
"He insisted it was the first time, but apparently this secret was known through his platoon. He even sheltered one other homosexual Gefreiter. That man was also arrested."
Holger's eyes squinted in a glare. "To think: a man can hide something that disgusting and still rise to be an officer."
Eren muttered, "It ... It does seem ... rather impossible."
He stared ahead in shock. Oliver was homosexual? Or at least preferred any gender. He never knew. Eren had always assumed, if he met another homosexual man, he would somehow know, like how his friends in school figured out his preference so easily.
"It's disgusting!"
Eren jolted up at the scathing snarl, and he saw Holger with an uncharacteristic sneer on his soft baby-like face.
Wim looked less angry, but then again, it was hard to tell any emotions from the stoic man. "I remember something Himmler said. He was talking about corpses in the peat-bogs, and how that was the punishment for homosexuals back then: to be tied up and thrown into the swamp. Himmler said, 'That wasn't a punishment, but simply the extinguishment of abnormal life.' I always remembered that line. It was well-said. He compared it to pulling out weeds and burning them. It's not a hateful revenge we take upon the weeds, but a necessary purification of the land, purging the weakness, so the fertile fields can grow strong and bountiful. If Germany is to grow, we cannot waste our resources on weak, abnormal men like that. We must purify the fields, be they Jews, Gypsies, faggots, or anyone who does not conform."
Eren's brow tightened. Weak. Abnormal. "So, was Oliver sent to a concentration camp?" Was this his fate one day?
Wim shook his head. "That was his sentence, but before they could ship him out..."
"They killed him!" Holger cut in. "Someone sneaked into the prison where he was being held. They shot his faggot lover and the homosexual Gefreiter, but for Oliver, they beheaded him." Holger looked almost gleeful at the ending, like this was appropriate punishment.
No, not punishment. Simply the extinguishment of abnormal life.
Eren did not want to look like he disapproved. He feared letting any sort of weakness slip out now. Still...
So brutal! Just because he loved a man.
Oliver would have finished this war and gone back to his wife and children. He would have raised them, appearing like a perfectly normal happy family. A little fun with a man in the midst of battle likely would not have changed anything.
Why such brutality for a man like that?
Would this be his own fate one day?
No! Because no one would ever find out. He had hidden it for this long. He could hide his sexuality until the day he died.
Because if he failed, he would be killed.
"Sir! Oberleutnant Jäger?" the manager at the front desk called out, jolting him out of his thoughts. "I have the key to your suite. Room 404."
Holger snapped out of that grim darkness, and suddenly the bubbly lieutenant was back. "Oh, hey! Isn't that your same room as before?"
"Is it?" Eren whispered. That felt like such a long time ago, another person altogether. Eren gave a sniff nod to the two officers, eager to get away from them. "Good day, gentlemen."
Holger cheerfully said, "We'll go out drinking later."
"Maybe tomorrow. I need to rest. Try to find Jean and invite him. We can keep him out of trouble."
Holger laughed, "I don't think anyone can succeed in that mission."
Eren turned away, and only then did his face flinch at the news.
Oliver was dead ... because he was homosexual.
A weak, abnormal, disgusting homosexual.
Eren began to walk back, but just then he saw a man with light brown hair walk by with a ladder and a bucket full of tools. Eren's eyes narrowed.
"The maintenance man," he muttered.
He remembered when Ralph the maintenance man came to his room to fix a leak in the attic, and how Levi just barely managed to hide in time. Back then, Ralph had a small, Hitler-style mustache. Now, he had grown his mustache out.
"You!" he yelled, marching away from the desk and toward the man.
Ralph stopped and turned. "May I help you, monsieur?"
"Your mustache," he said, glaring at the man's face. "You changed it."
Ralph set his ladder down and reached up to his lip. "Oh. Well, yes, my wife said maybe a goatee would look nice, but first I'm trying—"
"You're hiding the fact that you support us," he accused. "Have you lost your allegiance to the Führer?"
"I ... monsieur, it's just a mustache. My wife—"
Eren suddenly punched the man, sending him stumbling backwards and knocking over his bucket.
"Stop hiding behind your wife, you coward," Eren bellowed. "Are you loyal to Germany, yes or no?"
The man held his cheek and looked helplessly stunned. "I ... I simply thought a new look would be nice."
"Answer the question!" yelled Eren. "You grew a mustache to pretend like you support us. Now with the Americans on our doorstep, you're ashamed of your allegiance."
"Monsieur..."
"Don't monsieur me!" Eren shouted in outrage. "It is Herr Oberleutnant, and you will address an officer with respect."
"Of course, mon- ... Herr Oberleutnant."
"If you were truly loyal to the Führer, you should be proud of that mustache and proud to serve the Third Reich."
Ralph lowered his hand, exposing the bruise to his cheek. "Proud?" he scoffed. "No, I'm not proud at all. I only work here. It was Djel Sannes who decided to let the Wehrmacht stay here," he said, pointing at the hotel manager. "I either went along with it or I would lose my job. Of course I went along, and when one of you soldiers said I should change my mustache, I was so scared of being shot, I shaved it that very night. I hated it! My wife hated it! That is not the man I am."
Eren punched Ralph again, sending him sprawling to the ground. Still, with blood dripping from his nose, Ralph glared up defiantly at Eren.
"Don't you understand? I'm French! Once you're gone, I'll still be here. My choice to work for you Boches will haunt me for the rest of my life. I should've left the city months ago with my brother, but I was thinking about providing for my family. Now, the people of Metz themselves will punish me for assisting the enemy."
"Assisting the enemy?" Eren repeated with a scathing sneer. His boot went flying and slammed into Ralph's gut, sending him doubled over and howling in agony. "So, we're the enemy now, huh? I should tell the Gestapo you said that."
Bleeding, holding his stomach, Ralph yelled. "Go ahead! France shall be free. Viva la France!"
Eren screamed insanely as he slammed his foot into the man's gut again. "You coward!" he shrieked, kicking him over and over again. "You would betray us in an instant. You would stab us in the backs! Death to traitors!"
To the side, Holger and Wim saw this and ran forward. They both grabbed Eren and pulled him back.
"That's enough, Herr Oberleutnant," Wim warned.
"No!" Eren pulled out his gun and aimed it at Ralph. "Enemies of Germany must die. Kill them all!"
"Eren!" Holger shouted, and he slammed Eren's hand down to lower the gun. "Calm down. This isn't you."
Wasn't him? How could another officer say that? He was a soldier. Enemies of Germany must die. Be they Americans, British, French: all Allies must die!
However, he looked down at the man now curled up in a ball and grimacing in agony. He was a simple maintenance man. A civilian.
Eren used to have a rule: never harm civilians.
When had that changed?
The glint of light on a ghostly man's glasses as a gun exploded flashed into his mind.
"Abel," he whispered.
Up until he shot Abel to save Levi, Eren had never harmed a civilian. This man at his feet was simply scared and trying to distance himself from the Germans so the French would not punish him later on. He was not a threat.
The rage sank out, leaving Eren feeling ready to vomit.
"Sorry," he muttered. He put his gun back in his holster and reached his hand out to Ralph. "I'm sorry about that."
Hesitantly, Ralph reached his hand out, and Eren helped him to stand up. Dead weariness filled Eren's eyes, and the humble man saw the dark horror of war hidden behind those teal eyes.
Eren walked over to the desk, where Djel had been watching in fear. Eren reached his palm out.
"My key."
Trembling, Djel dropped the key into his hand. "404, sir. Please don't report—"
"I'll say nothing," Eren cut in to assure him. "Keep your staff in line a little longer, though."
Djel nodded. "Just so you know, I'm loyal to the socialist cause."
Eren turned away. "I don't even care anymore. We'll all be bombed together."
Eren went up the stairs. More and more, this hotel looked familiar, and memories of early autumn came back to him. He met no one along the walk up the staircase. Before, many officers rushed up and down these steps. Now, the hotel was quiet, almost abandoned.
He reached the fourth floor. Yes, this was much more familiar. It almost felt like he was walking through the life of another person, remembering someone else's memories. The man who used to stand around, joke with the other lieutenants, and smoke in the hallway because Levi hated the smell ... that felt like another person.
A more innocent person.
He walked up to the door and paused, staring at the doorknob. The last time he was here, his door had just gotten repaired after Jean kicked it in after Eren had a nightmare. That doorknob looked shiny, brand new. It was still familiar, a similar design to all the other doors, but just slightly different, enough to be jarring.
He shook out the momentary stun, unlocked the door, entered the hotel room, and looked around. Everything looked the same. The bathroom, the bed covers, the desk, that giant wooden wardrobe. He opened the ornate oak doors, and in the corner of the wardrobe he saw a slight stain from the time Levi got locked in there and had to pee on top of a pile of his clothes.
That felt like someone else's life.
He walked to the window and stared out. Metz was less busy. He saw almost no civilians out now. It was all military.
He set down the award documents and cardboard box that held his bronze close combat bar. Then Eren removed his coat and hat, unclipped his holster and set his gun on the nightstand, tugged off his boots, and loosened his tunic. A weary sigh shook his chest.
He went to the bathroom. How luxurious, to have a toilet and large bathtub all to himself, rather than long lines for the town hall restroom and showering in a tiny area barely curtained off, where any of the other men could see him. These were such simple comforts, basic for civilians, but after being in battle, this felt foreign and opulent.
He gazed at the bathtub. So many burning memories were in that tub. He could see it now, like looking at two other people. That first time bathing together, Levi had been so wild, so passionate, his body on top of Eren, aggressively pleasuring him until Eren felt ready to drown. Then the final time, Levi sat on his lap as Eren touched him, slowly easing him through nightmares to reach past all that darkness and pleasure Levi until he succumbed.
—
"I'm right here with you. Ich möchte deinen Körper vor Ekstase zittern sehen."
"Tell me what you're saying."
"I want to see your body tremble in ecstasy. Zeig mir mehr, Levi. Show me more!"
"Oh, fuck! Eren!"
"Ja, genau so. Zeig mir, wie du kommst."
—
That memory had replayed in his mind on lonely nights, when other soldiers also rubbed out the lust with their hand, a photo or just a memory to ease the need, trying to be quick and quiet although they all knew they were the same: men who needed a release out there on that lonely battlefield.
The memory had been so bright the first few weeks. Eventually, he stopped fantasizing. Pleasuring himself felt sickening, like he did not deserve those beautiful memories when men with lovers died all around him.
How long had it been since he allowed himself to indulge?
Even now, the memories hurt and felt unreal.
He relieved himself, washed up, and looked at himself in the mirror. His face looked so different. His cheeks were gaunt and his eyes stared hollowly with dark circles under them. There were healing burn marks on his ear and neck from when a blast blew embers at him. He tugged on the end of his brown hair. He needed a haircut. He had a chance to shave in the hospital, but his hair was starting to get long. He would deal with that later.
Eren walked to the bed and collapsed. He stared up at the ceiling, disturbed by how quiet it was after a month of nonstop artillery. In the hospital, there was activity all around, and it helped to keep his mind in the present. Now, he could hear his wristwatch ticking.
And he could hear the bullets.
The whistle of artillery shells.
The screams of the dying.
The silence was deafening with the sounds of war.
Staring up, he saw flames, and on the other side, like the fire was prison bars, he could see Thomas and Franz. One minute they were there, the next, he was shoved away from them, slammed into a wall, and they were gone.
Just gone. So suddenly.
Guilt flooded him, but he refused to cry. He had to be strong! Even now, alone, he had to be strong, a leader. Their leader.
But he had failed as their leader. He failed to bring them back home.
He could hear Franz. "Hannah! I'm sorry for not being faithful, Hannah."
They used to tease Franz about sleeping with prostitutes so frequently. Connie had playfully harassed him until Franz got enraged. Had he actually been struggling with guilt the whole time? To die with that guilt on his mind!
He would never get to see his baby. Hannah would have to raise the child on her own. Thomas would never make the meals he had so carefully perfected. He would never get to take over the family restaurant.
Both had loved ones back home who, right about now, would be getting letters telling them that their sons died for the glory of Germany.
There was no glory in that battle.
There was no glory in this whole damned war.
Their screams tormented Eren, making him lash out. He grabbed his hat and threw it against the far wall with a scream of rage that matched the screams in his head.
Dark thoughts echoed through his mind.
* * *
I was right there in front of them, and I couldn't save them.
What sort of horrible officer can't save his men?
I couldn't bring them back to their families.
I don't deserve that officer's cap.
I don't deserve that award bar.
I don't deserve this uniform.
I don't deserve to be alive.
Why would God spare me and take so many others?
I should have been in that town hall when it was bombed.
I should have died with all the others.
It should have been me, not them.
They had something to live for.
I have nothing.
I have no purpose.
There is no future for a homosexual like me.
Only hiding, and lying, and death!
Homosexuality is abnormal!
A disease! A weakness!
Disgusting!
Sinful!
Is being homosexual the reason why I was too weak to save them?
Is being part Jewish a taint that will never go away?
So long as I have this impure blood in my veins and impure lust for men, my soldiers will never see a victory.
Only death.
Because I'm weak.
A weak, part-Jewish faggot!
I should be dead.
I failed them!
I should die!
I should just fucking die!
I don't ... deserve ... to live!
* * *
He grabbed his gun off his nightstand and put it up to his head.
Thomas had his family's restaurant. Franz had a baby on the way. Moblit had a soulmate who was the mother of his child.
What did he have? A boyfriend?
A Jewish boyfriend?
It was sinful. It was shameful.
He was a weed choking the fertile field of Germany.
If he truly loved Germany, he would do what was best.
Extinguish all abnormal lifeforms.
Purify the fields.
Jews were weak.
Fags were weak.
Germany had no need for weakness!
The weak ... should die!
He slammed his eyes shut, and the barrel of the gun pushed hard into the side of his head. His hand trembled, shaking the gun.
He failed to save his men.
And now, beating up civilians!
He used to have morals about civilians.
Yet he pulled a gun on an harmless man.
He shot a Jew in cold blood.
He truly had become corrupted.
The words of Louise's grandfather returned to him.
* * *
"One bad apple infects a hundred. Germany is rotten, and even if you are a good apple, you're in with a bad barrel. The longer you stay with them, the more the rot gets to you."
* * *
He was corrupted, rotten, evil.
He had lost that one shred of humanity that had kept him from being like the rest of the Nazis.
He was weak and corrupted.
Impure blood and sinful lust!
What gave him the right to be a Wehrmacht officer?
What gave him the right to be alive?
Sinful, abnormal, disgusting!
Why am I the one who lived?
Germany has no need for me.
A useless existence!
Purify the fields.
Germany is stronger without faggots like me!
A tear slipped down his cheek. "It's for the best." His finger slid over the trigger and began to curl.
* * *
"Look at him! His name was Abel Friedman. Remember that name. Remember his face. Remember it until the day you die. If you can still recall his name on the day you take your last breath, then maybe I'll forgive you for murdering him."
* * *
Eren's finger paused. "Abel Friedman," he whispered.
He remembered his name.
The name of the innocent man he murdered.
He would only lead more men to their deaths.
He may end up slaughtering civilians.
He was a weakness to Germany.
He was a danger to the world!
He was a monster!
Abnormal!
Tainted!
Weak!
His finger tightened again.
If he truly loved Germany...
Purify the fields.
... he should end his life before he corrupted more men.
Like Levi.
An image floated into his head, Levi dressed as Louise and in the crowd, lipping the words he had been too scared to say before.
"I love you."
"Levi," he whispered, feeling warmth return to his heart.
Had he corrupted him, or had Levi saved him?
* * *
"You're alive. Find a goal. Think about it while we ride today, a goal to keep you going, to get you through this war. Then live for that goal."
* * *
"Live for that goal," Eren whispered.
Slowly, his finger moved away from the trigger, and he lowered the gun. Eren stared out hollowly.
"What was my goal back then?"
He tried to think back. It felt like a lifetime ago, although it was only a couple of months.
* * *
"What if my goal is to get morning kisses from you every day?"
"If that gets you through things, go ahead and wish for that."
"Would it be a possibility?"
"Let's stay alive first."
* * *
At least now, Eren knew that kisses in the morning were a possibility. His mind drifted to something Moblit told him just after Eren's last time seeing Levi as he rode out to Maizières-lès-Metz.
* * *
"The bond of two soulmates is stronger than any other. You're destined to find each other, again and again, through years, decades, or lifetimes."
* * *
Destined to find each other.
Levi was somewhere in this city.
Eren glanced down at his hand holding the gun and the gold wedding ring on his finger. Levi had assumed ownership of that ring, all so he could be the one to give it to Eren and slip it on his finger.
* * *
"The last thing this part of your finger will feel is my lips. That way, the ring is protecting my kiss. You have to wear it all the time now, never take it off, or my kiss will wipe away. If you're ever lonely and you wish you could kiss me, just kiss my ring and remember that my kiss is lying there, just behind it."
* * *
Eren let go of the gun, raised the ring to his lips, and kissed it. He had done that so many times as the battle raged around him to remind himself of happier times. Now, he did it to remind himself that life was worth all the pain of being the one who survived.
"Levi," he whispered. "I promised to wait for you. I don't deserve this life, but I promised, and I am a man of my word." His face stiffened up with determination. "I can't die until I see you again."
He got up, walked over to where his hat had landed on the ground, and placed it back onto his head. He pulled his boots back on, yanked on his coat, and placed his Luger back into its holster. Looking down at his gold ring again, his fist tightened up, and Eren headed out.
He had a boyfriend to find!
# # #
# #
#
RIP Moblit, Thomas, Franz, Nack, Lauda, Ivan, Jurgen, Luke, and the others of Jäger Platoon who perished.
Metal Plate in the Head — What Armin had done is called trepanning. In order to relieve swelling on the brain (which is stuck quite snuggly in your skull and can't expand anywhere) a surgeon can pull back the skin on the scalp and cut a portion of skull out, giving the brain room to expand. If the skull is intact, it can be replaced after swelling goes down. If not, the patient may need a cranioplasty, where surgeons repair the damaged skull with stainless steel, titanium, or other materials.
The oldest examples of trepanning and cranioplasty date back to 3000 BCE in the Inca tribe of Peru, who used shells and precious metals to cover holes drilled into the skull. While other doctors throughout history figured out that trepanning could save the life of someone with cerebral swelling, no other culture seemed to catch onto cranioplasty until the 1500s CE, when surgeons in the Ottoman Empire used bone material from dogs and goats to repair the damaged skulls of soldiers. The practice really caught on during the First World War, where artillery caused hundreds of thousands of head trauma cases, and advances in medicine saved many soldiers with head wounds in the Second World War. Back then, a steel plate or cadaver bone was common. Today, we have 3D printed titanium meshes.
Side note: Back in the 1930s, my great-aunt was riding her bike when two semi-trucks collided, and she was caught between them. She woke up months later, learning that her classmates had already graduated high school, and she lost a large portion of her skull. It took her months to relearn how to walk, as the brain needed to remember basic activities. She had a metal plate in her head, which she bragged about throughout her life: "Of course I'm hard-headed. I have a steel skull!"
Close Combat Bar — A Nahkampfspange was awarded to German soldiers who fought "close enough to see the white of the enemy's eyes," or use close combat weapons to assault the enemy in hand-to-hand combat. It counted up all combat days in which the soldier was part of a major attack or assault, reconnaissance attack, defense of a position, or single messenger run. The bronze class was for up to 15 close combat days, silver for 30 days, and gold for 50 days. For soldiers wounded in close combat, the days were adjusted to 10, 20, and 40 days of action.
Thus Kitz Woermann, who was in Maizières-lès-Metz for 23 days before being wounded, would still get a silver badge although he was not there the full 30 days.
NOTE! — Originally, I forgot to write about his injury, so I added it in with his letters to Louise (October 20, if you want to go back and read what happened.) It will be explained more later, but basically, Kitz Woermann was wounded when the M-12 "Doorknocker" struck the town hall.
* https://www.wehrmacht-awards.com/war_badges/heer/close_combat_bar.htm
* https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Close_Combat_Clasp
Hitler the Prophet? — Like many leaders who rise to power based on a cult of personality, people actually did believe Hitler was a prophet. His inner circle frequently mentioned "Hitler's Prophecy," based on a speech he made in January 30, 1939: "If international finance Jewry inside and outside Europe should succeed in plunging the nations once more into a world war, the result will be not the Bolshevization of the earth and thereby the victory of Jewry, but the annihilation of the Jewish race in Europe." Hitler continued to invoke this "prophecy" as he plunged Germany into war. It was printed in newspapers and magazines, posters hung up with the quote, quoted by his inner circle in their own speeches, cited in documents found detailing how to carry out mass genocide, and Hitler referenced it a final time in his last will and testament just before committing suicide. Although it doesn't say how he planned to exterminate Jews, the fact that this "prophecy" was pervasive in Nazi propaganda has been used as evidence that the common German actually did know that the Holocaust was happening, they merely didn't know the details and chose to ignore it.
After all, if your classmate says "I'm going to shoot the teacher," makes posters that he'll shoot the teacher, his friends boast that he'll shoot the teacher, he kidnaps the teacher, many people saw him kidnap the teacher, and then police discover that he shot the teacher, not a single person in the school can claim "We didn't know he'd do that!"
Oliver's Death — Oliver was a character we saw only once in the manga: already dead, his throat slit. (I thought they beheaded him, sorry, but I like how this way was far more brutal.) From that, I built a whole character. RIP, Oliver. May your children grow to hate the Nazi you were, but not the fact that you were bisexual.
Himmler's Speech on Homosexuality — Wim doesn't talk much, but he's actually a big fan of Heinrich Himmler. He quoted from a speech to SS Gruppenfuehrer in February 18, 1937, a speech now known as "The Question of Homosexuality." It's a highly disturbing speech, so I caution anyone curious enough to check it out. To summarize, Himmler describes how homosexuality weakens a population, because homosexual men will not created children and Germany already had a shortage of men due to the First World War. He states that these non-procreating men will eventually lead to the destruction of Germany, as Aryans are replaced with outsiders (the same "Replacement Theory" popular in far-right America due to TV personalities like Tucker Carlson). Himmler believed that a large population will result in world power, and since homosexuals cannot repopulate, they are seen as useless and detrimental to the nation. It shows just how much Nazis had morally separated themselves from seeing homosexuals as human. Instead, Himmler believed the state must get involved in the bedroom and what consenting adults do in private, killing gay men would somehow increase the population, and not having children was a crime worthy of a death sentence.
One unintentionally funny line in Himmler's speech:
"These people know each other with a glance across a room. If at a dance you have 500 men, within a half hour they have mutually picked out those who have the same disposition as they. How that happens, we normal people cannot at all imagine."
Gaydar.
Himmler realized they have gaydar.
* https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/himmler-speech-on-the-ldquo-question-of-homosexuality-rdquo
* https://rationalwiki.org/wiki/Question_of_Homosexuality
* Full speech, it's long and grossly horrific, but it is important to learn how to recognize such perverse hate and bigotry, so that we do not allow it to be repeated! – https://carolynyeager.net/himmlers-speech-ss-leaders-homosexuality
Ralph and Djel, again — We saw Ralph and heard about Djel (the hotel manager) back in the chapter "The Leak in the Attic." In the anime, Ralph has a mustache, while in the manga he had a goatee, so him saying he's growing his Hitler-stache into a goatee is a little nod to that character design change.
Remember Their Names — The fact that Eren remembers Abel's name is more important than most people probably realize. The reciting of the names of the deceased is part of Yizkor, a memorial service for the dead. The Yizkor service is recited on Yom Kippur, Passover, Shavout, and Succot. It includes the prayer hazkarat neshamot, recalling of the dead. The deceased is named, using their Jewish name (if they go back another for the sake of fitting into society) as well as the name of their parent. Ashkenazi Jews recite the name of the father; Sephardic Jews recite the name of the mother.
Merciful God in Heaven, grant perfect repose to the soul of _____ who has passed to his eternal habitation; and in whose memory, the members of his family pledge charity. May he be under Thy divine wings among the holy and pure who shine bright as the sky; may his place of rest be in paradise. Merciful One, keep his soul forever alive under Thy protective wings. The Lord being his heritage may he rest in peace; and let us say, Amen.
...
If you are struggling with depression, please realize that this is a neurochemical imbalance, a debilitating sickness, and it can be alleviated (if not cured) with medication and therapy. It's a horrible sabotage of your brain, but it won't last forever.
I've been in that dark place, and although it took time and therapy, it was totally worth holding on. I got through school (despite a racist teacher spitefully flunking me in Literature, of all classes), I married an incredible man (despite severe PTSD from an abusive boyfriend), I published two novels (despite a college professor crushing my self-esteem by utterly destroying a story of mine in front of a forum of my peers), and hey ... I'm writing this story.
I'm here, alive, creating something YOU enjoy, all because I failed to end my life years ago and finally got the help I needed to stop my brain from sabotaging my life.
So remember: Your pain is real, your struggles are hard, it hurts (and legitimately so) but it won't feel unbearable forever. Your life does matter, and continuing to live another day really is worth this temporary darkness, because you've felt the worst feelings a person can have, and you are going to make this world better because of that experience.
You are a WARRIOR for making it this far. You are a soldier with a 100% success record for fighting through life's battles. If you're losing hope, call in air support (a therapist) and they will help you to win even more battles. There is no shame in a ground soldier calling for an airstrike; that's always the turning point of a battle, and it's freaking bad-ass to see how that bit of help saves the day.
The enemy of Depression may have beaten you down—maybe really damn hard—but it has never once thoroughly defeated you. The fact that you're here is proof!
You are strong and awesome, and you deserve to be told that every single day.
* https://twloha.com
* https://itgetsbetter.org
* https://www.befrienders.org
* https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org
* https://psychology.fandom.com/wiki/List_of_crisis_hotlines_by_country
* https://www.drshier.com/serotonin-neurochemical-imbalance-depression