I always knew things weren’t right. Generally I pushed that thought away. It was best not to think in Nazi Germany. It was best to be completely loyal to the Fürher and any Nazi with authority over you. But there was one time that was hard for me not to think. It was a hot August afternoon after Hitler Youth.

*** 

“Hey, Reinhard, when we’re old enough, which military unit would you want to be in?”

“I don’t know, probably Luftwaffe. What about you Hans?”

“SS, definitely.”

“Uh.” I didn’t want to be in the SS at all. I knew they were well respected but the things that they had to do weren’t right. I pushed that thought away and looked up at the sky as a fighter plane flew over.

“Hey, I’m starving after all that marching we had to do, you guys want to get something to eat?” asked my other friend Tommy. 

“Sure, but I don’t have any money,” said Hans. 

“Neither do I,” I chimed in. 

“That’s alright, I’ll pay,” said Tommy. 

“Alright, sure, if you’re paying we’ll get ice cream,” said Hans. 

“Yeah,” I agreed.

As we turned the corner, we saw two older Hitler Youth kids beating up a man with a yellow star on his shirt.  Just a few feet away there was a little girl standing with silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Jews, I thought. A pile of dread was building up in my stomach. I couldn’t bear seeing what was unfolding right before my eyes. 

“Hey, you boys come over here and help us,” said one of the older boys.

Hans was the first to move over and help the older boys, which made sense because he wanted to be in the SS. Next was Tommy. Even though he wasn’t that strong, he knew where to punch so it would hurt. 

I didn’t move. I didn’t want to. At that moment I wished I could disappear, away from what I was seeing, away from Hitler Youth, away from Germany all together.  I looked over at the little girl who was crying harder than ever and knew that if I joined in on the beating, I would never forgive myself. But if I helped the man, I myself would get beat up. Then a thought came to me. It wasn’t a perfect one, but it worked: I could make it so the girl didn’t have to watch. Yes, that would work. I walked over, past the beating, to the little girl and knelt down in front of her so I was at eye level. I noticed she had eyes that looked like they had seen more things then mine would ever see. I took her hand in mine and slowly started walking, walking away from what I didn’t want to think about, away from the beating.