Mods: I hope this is in the right house. I wasn't sure whether to put it here or in Ste Therese's, but decided on here. Please move it if it would be more appropriate elsewhere.
General note: I've been reading my new GGBP copy of Exile and this plot bunny came to me (at 2am
). The first paragraph is from Exile (and in italics), and so is a sentence towards the end (not italics), but the rest is mine. Hope you enjoy.It was a narrow cleft, with alpenroses growing quite near. Indeed, at one spot just above the bigger girl's head, they covered it, evidently finding rooting space inside. Hermann waited till he thought the girls must be well inside, and then followed. While bigger in build than Robin, who was very small and slight for her years, he had no difficulty in entering. Just ahead of him, he saw a pale, dancing light and guessed it to be a torch. Setting his teeth, he followed, for he dared do nothing else. His mother had taught him that all such work as this was done for the Führer, and would be specially blessed. It might even be that some day, if he did something very brave which brought disaster on the enemies of Nazidom, he might meet the godlike man himself; and who were greater enemies of the Nazis than the British? Hermann was no braver than the majority of small boys, but he nerved himself to go forward.
Hermann was tired and frightened. Ever so much more frightened than he had been that day when he had been tasked with following the schoolgirls, and there was a time when he was sure that had been the scariest day of his life. But much of the last years had been one long terrifying nightmare. The war. The move to Germany itself from that small corner of Austria, that in spite of himself he had come to love. The death of his parents at Dresden... And now he was here, in Berlin, to meet the Führer, to receive a medal for the work he had been doing defending the greatest city of them all from the communists. And he was scared, and weary.
He had often dreamed of being in Berlin, and of meeting the Führer himself, or maybe just seeing a glimpse of the godlike man in person and up close. Now he was getting his wish, but none of this was as he had imagined. He had distinguished himself in battle for the Fatherland against the Red Army, but did not feel he deserved the award he would be getting because he had only done well out of fear. Out of fear of what the Communist sub-humans would do to him, out of fear of what his own side would do to him if he ran away, out of fear of dying. Berlin was on fire and in ruins and he stood amongst the rubble in the Reich Chancellery garden to receive his reward, and he wished his fear would disappear, but the sound of guns was ever present and getting closer, and once the award had been made, and he had met his Führer, he would be going to face them again.
Hermann wondered if any of the other boys felt the same. He was one of the oldest at 16 years old. The other boys looked so young, and yet so fearless. He wondered if his fear was hidden. He hoped so, because to be fearful in front of smaller boys, especially those with such courage, who looked so unafraid would be awful. To show fear in front of the Führer would be so shameful he could never live it down. Then the great man himself, who had done so much for the Reich came, and his appearance shocked Hermann. For he was not a God. He was not even Godlike. He was just a man. As he received his medal and spoke a few words with the Führer he was disappointed. He had assumed this would be the greatest day of his life, despite the fear, and the burning ruins of the great city, but he was just disappointed. Was this who he had sacrificed so much for? An old man, with a tremor. Grey, and small, and old. Not a superman or a God after all.
And it was all over. Feeling devastated, Hermann turned with the rest of the boys to be marched off back to the war. To fight and to die. Hermann was no braver than the majority of teenage boys, but he nerved himself to go forward, for he could do nothing else, and he marched on, deeper into the ruins of Berlin.
Poor Hermann! Thankyou, that was so touching.