Chapter 2
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Ludwig sat on the cot in his tent with the three other Obergefreiter* he worked with when it came to separating the Jews and sending them to the left or to the right. One was named Jan Krüger; 21 years old. The other was Martin König; 20 years old. Finally, Klaus Richter; 22 years old.
"We have complete immunity tonight and all we're going to do is sit here?" Jan asked, resting his chin on his fist. "Let's go out to the city."
"Let's get a whore. They're always good boredom breakers." Martin along with the others looked at each other with amused smiles and glints in their eyes while Ludwig just wrote a simple sentence I'm his army journal.
Sunday, May 2nd, 1942
I murdered someone. Again. I had too, I didn't have a choice. It was a women and she looked young; rather beautiful. I shot her right between the eyes, like I do every time.
"Come with us, Beilshmidt. They're only willing to sell themselves when you're there." Martin raised an eyebrow at the stiff German. "Bitte?*"
"Fine." He shook his head at them. "But I don't want anything to do with her. And Klaus is driving."
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They got into the city and started wandering the streets, looking for the bar that the hookers usually hang around at. Ludwig could hear Jan, Klaus and Martin laughing at some stupid joke they'd made and wondered how they could do it.
How can they be so happy? They do what I do; send people to their death or force them to be slaves. They shoot innocent Jews who try to escape. I've forgotten how to smile.
The bar came into view and Ludwig led the way, walking inside. He could see the people in his peripheral vision straighten their backs as they walked in. People were always intimidated by their stiff uniforms and strict tones.
They strode over to the back where a group of six women sat in clothes that left little to the imagination. Ludwig noticed a few of them eyeing him, scanning their lustful gazes over him. He gave Jan a stack of bills, enough to cover a girl for the night.
"You're not staying?" He asked.
"Nein*, I'll walk back to the camp." Ludwig shrugged.
"Its far!"
"I'll be fine." The German assured him. "Give me a cigarette and you'll only have to pay half of the money back."
Jan took one out and handed it to him along with a lighter. He told him he could keep it and Ludwig nodded before walking away.
He lit it outside before walking down the road, his posture so straight that his muscles were all tense. He heard shouting from a dark alley and glanced down it, watching a silhouette pin someone to the wall of a building. Ludwig could make out the hat on the man and realized it was a soldier. He marched down there and pulled him off, pushing him away from the young man he had cornered.
"Was denken Sie, Sie tun?*" He shouted.
His eyes darted down to his name tag; Marcel Bach. One of the soldiers he'd been training the day prior.
"Gehen Sie zurück zu dem Lager... Jetzt!" Ludwig snapped, towering over the male.
He watched as Marcel nodded and ran the other way. Ludwig took the cigarette out of his mouth and blew a stream of smoke.
"You shouldn't smoke." A voice said quietly from behind him. "You probably don't speak English."
"I speak fluent English." Ludwig replied, turning around. "And who are you to tell me what and what not to do?"
The younger man flinched, clearly intimidated by the German soldier. He took a cautious step back.
"I-I just wanted to warn you." He stuttered, tears welling up in his eyes.
Verdammte Scheiße. Why the hell is he crying?
Ludwig noticed the male had an Italian accent. His eyes were amber and his hair was red-brown.
"Don't do that." Ludwig said quietly. "Don't... cry."
What's wrong with me? I don't know this man. He's just like one of those Jews; I could easily shoot him in the head.
The Italian took a sharp breath and nodded, quickly wiping away his tears and smiling brightly at him. He bounded over to him and hugged him. Ludwig's eyes widened and he stiffened, hand on his holster. It was an instinct. He wasn't really going to kill this man.
"Thank you for saving me!~" He leaned back slightly. "My name's Feliciano!"
Ludwig's fingers gripped the holster as he glared at the Italian. He watched him look at the tag pinned on his uniform jacket and say his name quietly.
"Get off."
Feliciano looked up at him, frowning slightly. He pulled back and silently nodded, stepping away from the German.
Ludwig brushed past him, his gaze set on the road ahead of him.
"Hey, L-Ludwig." Feliciano called out to him quietly.
His voice... So innocent and gentle.
He stopped walking, freezing as his name was called. He waited; waited for that wonderful voice to speak to him again.
"You shouldn't smoke." The Italian walked in front of him and took the cigarette out of his mouth, stepping on it.
Ludwig narrowed his eyes at the strange boy. He looked young; seventeen at the least. He gave a curt nod before walking away, in the direction of Auschwitz.
What the fuck just happened?
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Author's Note: Guys, when I wrote the part about them going to get the prostitute for entertainment, I did not mean to offend anyone; male or female. I am terribly sorry if it did. I'm just trying to capture the realism.
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Translations
Obergefreiter - Senior Corporal (German)
Bitte - Please (German)
Nein - No (German)
Was denken Sie, Sie tun? - What do you think you're doing? (German)
Gehen Sie zurück zu dem Lager - Get back to the camp (German)
Jetzt! - Now! (German)
Verdammte Scheiße - Fucking hell (German)
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To be continued...