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Dangerous Territory	By : Rhov Category: +. to F > Attack on Titan /Shingeki No Kyojin Views: 4228 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own “Shingeki no Kyojin” and do not make money from this fanfic.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
I put a trigger warning at the start of this story. I would like to reiterate that.
This story contains graphic violence, homophobic and antisemitic language, racial discrimination, portrayals of the Holocaust, including scenes of war, death, interrogation, torture, dehumanization, sexual assault, executions, and basically every horrific thing you can imagine from a story set in WWII. If you are sensitive to any of these, proceed with caution.
Chapter 15
Dignity Lost

It was the sort of late August day that made northern France one of the best places on Earth, in Levi’s opinion. The sunshine made his skin tingle as he scrubbed out a cauldron that had cooked something savory for the soldiers. The smell of that leftover food made his stomach tighten.
He missed real food. Once, he despised the idea of eating something that had been cooked for Germans, but after living with Eren, he realized that food was food. Whether if it was made for the enemy, or even made from pork, to stay alive he needed to eat. He got to eat like a normal person while tending to Eren’s sickbed, but that teased taste of savory food left behind a sense of longing that he had thought he suppressed after four years running from Nazis.
As his gut made a decidedly furious growl, he could hardly help himself. He reached into the pot, to a spot with a portion of a potato stuck against the cast iron. It was hard, baked on, but he dug it off with his nails. He popped the wedge into his mouth, and for a moment his mind flashed into the past.
“Petra,” he sighed.
She had loved growing herbs and potatoes, and she was so proud of her cast iron pots and pans, passed down from her grandmother. She would cook meals with lamb chops, potatoes, carrots, and anything she could get to grow in the garden. Her smile was his sun, her laugh his manna, her cooking…
“Jude!”
His eyes flashed in anger as the good memory was interrupted. Kitz Woermann had rarely approached any of the Jews, and for that they were glad. The few times he had, Levi often had to tend to the damage he left in his wake.
The captain’s bulging eyes were not wild, but insidious this time. Levi stared him down. This would be a fight, he already knew it. The question was, just how bad, and did he dare to defend himself?
The captain seemed to be questioning him, but Levi stared in silence. One of these days, he would have to ask Eren to teach him some German, just so he could know what the hell was going on.
As Levi sat there eying Kitz, he realized his mind had switched into that of the soldier he once had been. He calculated five ways to kill this man, and twenty ways to escape any sort of attack, besides Kitz pulling out his gun and shooting Levi point-blank. Even with that, the pot in his hands would deflect a bullet, if he had time to lift it as a shield.
What he had not anticipated were two soldiers who managed to sneak up behind him without a sound. Levi realized too late, this was more than just a mindless rant.
They made a grab at him, and Levi twirled out of their grip. He was on his feet, crouched low. He heard Kitz shouting commands, but his focus remained on the other soldiers. They were well-built and swift. The fact that they managed to sneak up on him showed to Levi that these men were not to be underestimated. They were well-trained, and he realized he was in some serious danger. Whatever the captain was up to, it was not going to be a mere punched face or cracked rib.
Dammit, where’s Eren when I need him?
He despised the idea that he felt he needed that young German soldier, but without knowing what the captain wanted, without someone there to calm things down, Levi was running out of options.
Fight!
Yet he knew, if he fought he very well might be killed, simply shot dead. Then again, he might take one of them with him.
No, fighting was stupid. He needed to survive. He had promised Petra…
Levi calmed himself, and as repugnant as it was, he raised his hands in surrender. The two men charged, and immediately his arms were yanked behind him. He expected that much. Then came the punch to the gut. Also expected; he would have done no differently. Other hits, he figured were warranted. He had resisted and faced off for a moment, after all.
It all hurt, but Levi had known worse. What annoyed him was how far they had wrenched back his arm. The strain on his shoulder was beginning to burn, and one thing he could not afford was to have a torn tendon. Those healed too slowly. Broken bones healed quicker.
Finally, they seemed to be satisfied with their punishment, and Levi was shoved forward. Thankfully, only one held him, and merely by the collar of his shirt. The other had his gun pointed into Levi’s back as they forced him to march.
He kept his head high as he was paraded down one of the town’s main streets and into a square. Kitz was barking orders again, and Levi tried to keep calm. If they wanted him dead, he would already be so. Soldiers were calling out orders all around, and he saw that they were being gathered, all of them, the entire company. He heard the German words alle Soldaten, which meant the call was for all the soldiers.
This was going to be a public display.
Levi cursed to himself. This had to be about the liberation of Paris. The captain likely wanted to show Germany’s superiority over France. Picking one of the villagers could cause a rebellion, which was precisely what they were ordered to prevent.
So they picked a Jew as the victim, enough to spur on the soldiers disparaged by the loss, but without too much fear from the populace.
After all, how many of these villagers cared about a Jew, even one who was also French?
* * *
Eren opened the door to a frantic knock and was shocked to see one of the local girls.
“Krista!” he exclaimed, remembering the French girl who spoke German, and who had given him some of her bread after he warned her not to make her bilingual knowledge known.
“Sie müssen mit mir kommen!” You must come with me!
He quickly hushed her. If anyone knew that a French villager spoke German, Levi lost his usefulness as a translator.
She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Die jüdischen Gefangenen liegen Ihnen am Herzen, oder?” The Jewish prisoners are special to you, right?
Eren felt a clench in his chest. Why would she care about the prisoners, unless… “What’s happening?” He felt his pulse already racing with dread.
She shook her head. “I only heard a little. Two Jews, the town square, they are trying to gather all the German soldiers, a display … I’m sorry, I did not catch much. I just know it’s bad. The soldiers, they said … get you, get Jäger, so you can tell that Jewish translator to warn the women and children to stay away.”
“Stay away?”
“Whatever this is about, it will be that bad. Bad enough so that your captain does not want women to see.”
Eren felt sick to his stomach. “Where’s Levi? The bilingual one? Did you see him?”
“In the square already under guard. I saw them bringing another up along the street. They said two would get punished.”
“Verdammt!”
Eren ran past her, racing through the streets at a speed that almost made him trip over his heavy boots. Levi! What the hell was the captain planning to do to him?
As he reached the town square, Eren saw that he was already too late. Kitz Woermann was there, as were the other two officers and a half dozen regular soldiers. Levi had a rifle in his back. Their eyes met briefly, and Eren saw in those narrow eyes a look he had seen once before, a nightmare from his childhood, eyes that knew it was too late for him, so he should save himself.
“Mein Gott, nicht wieder.” My God, not again.
“Jäger!” Kitz shouted out.
Eren knew this was bad, because the captain was smiling. Shoving down his dread, he approached.
“I’m glad they found you so quickly.”
“I just happened to be here, Herr Hauptmann,” he lied. “What’s going on?”
“A public reminder, that’s all. Given the current atmosphere and the orders coming from Berlin, I want this to be a show only for us Germans. Have this Jew tell the French to send their women and children away.”
Eren had been to public displays like this. The ones he had witnessed were hangings. Glancing around, he realized they were near a tall tree that would serve that purpose. When Eren saw hangings, they had been slow and horrible, no quick drop and a snapped neck. One man hung from the tree for ten minutes before simply being shot.
“If I may, Herr Hauptmann,” Eren said, “if you wish to avoid French interference, the town square is the worst place. It should be just we Germans. The field outside of town, perhaps.” Eren knew there were no trees out in that field. At least Levi would not be hanged.
Kitz looked confused for a moment, but then his sick smile spread. “Brilliant, Jäger. A field will do just as well, and there will be plenty of room for everyone.” He slapped Eren on the back. “You have a sharp mind, a trait of fine schooling.”
“Thank the Führer and Napola,” Eren said, forcing a proud smile.
“Heil Hitler!” bellowed Kitz.
Despite the sickness in his gut, Eren returned the cheer. “Heil Hitler.”
The group beginning to gather were ordered to go to the field. Just as they were marching forward, two others arrived with the Jew named Moses between them, obviously confused and terrified. He was shoved close to Levi, and the two stayed together, realizing their lives were now in peril.
Eren stayed close to Kitz as they moved through the streets, but gradually he drifted away. As the captain turned to speak with Leutnant Gunther Schultz, Eren slipped over to Levi, close enough to whisper to him in English.
“What did you do?” he hissed.
“How the hell should I know! Maybe because I ate a piece of burnt potato off a pot I was cleaning. Maybe this bug-eyed bastard has decided he’s sick of knowing we clean up his shit.”
“You did nothing?” asked Eren.
“Not to provoke him. I may have yanked away when his men suddenly grabbed me, but that’s it. I’m as confused as you are. Look, takhshet…” Levi sighed as the furrow between his brows deepened. “Promise me one thing. Whatever they do, don’t stop it. If they beat me, don’t shout. If they shoot me, don’t weep. If they hand you the whip again … do it!”
Eren looked down at the small man in sadness. “Levi…”
“Survive this! Do you understand? Be strong. Live, no matter the price.” His throat began to choke up, realizing those had been the last words Petra said to him, and now here he was, telling this Nazi soldier the same thing. Still, Eren was not just some Nazi swine anymore. “You’re a good man,” he whispered, “the sort of man Europe needs if it’s going to recover from all these years of war. So don’t do anything stupid. Survive this damn war, and no matter which side wins, promise me you’ll do whatever you can to make Europe a better place.”
Eren gulped hard but forced himself to stiffen up, already obeying his orders. “You … You make a good captain, Levi.”
“In another time and place, I was one,” he reminded the young lieutenant. “If you’re willing to take an order from a former French soldier, then obey mine. Don’t do anything stupid. Survive however you can, and don’t regret anything you must do to live on.”
“No regrets,” Eren said in a solemn promise.
Eren feared that this might be the last conversation they had together; however, the Germans still needed Levi as a translator, that much was obvious simply because of situations like earlier. In fact, with threats of rebellion amongst the French, they needed Levi more than ever.
Eren guessed they would hang one, and if any harm came to Levi, it would be non-fatal. Another flogging? Was that why he mentioned a whip?
“Takhshet,” Levi whispered again as they marched over the wildflowers. “All of us Jews—all of us—are glad for what you’ve done so far.”
Eren looked over sharply. “You’re not going to die, Levi,” he insisted.
“Probably not,” he agreed, although he gave a sad look to the man next to him. Moses at least looked like he knew he was doomed. “Still, there are plenty of things worse than death, and much a man can suffer through without dying.”
“Levi…”
“I’m not afraid of pain. So long as I have my life and my dignity, I will survive this, one way or another.”
“And … him?” Eren looked over to the other Jew.
“His name is Moses.”
The other Jew looked over at hearing his name. “Qu’est-ce qui se passe?” What is it?
“Il s’inquičte pour toi.” He is worried about you.
Moses spoke, and after he was done, Levi translated. “He says, he’s scared, but he has been prepared from the beginning of this war to do whatever it takes to survive. He’s also been prepared for death, if that is his fate. He is at peace with the Lord, and that is all any of us can hope for when it’s our time to leave this life and move on to the next.”
Eren looked over to the man, his dark eyes which Eren had been told were due to their blackened souls, his hawk nose which his school had said was proof that Jews were a different species of human than Aryans. This was a man Eren had been brought up to categorize as Untermensch, a lesser man, weak and inferior by the laws of science and genetics.
“Jews,” Eren said, weighing his words as a lifetime of prejudice slowly crumbled, “are strong.”
Levi looked at him, at first like he did not understand what he was trying to say, then a moment of amazement, followed by looking aside to hide any happiness those three words gave him.
“Damn right we are,” he replied gruffly.
“Halt!”
The group stopped, and the soldiers began to circle around. Some were still trotting over the field to catch up. Kitz told his men to push back into a large circle. He wanted to make sure everyone could view the spectacle.
Eren also stepped back, figuring his translating skills were unneeded now that they were away from the French village. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder and jolted around, not realizing just how tense he was. He saw Armin with Jean right behind him.
Jean had a scowl on his long face as he warned, “You’re getting too emotional about those Jews, Jäger.”
Armin, however, looked worried. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Eren admitted.
Kitz stepped forward and addressed the entire gathering. “Paris fell. For that, Paris will burn. With time, the city that the French people see as their bright diamond will be nothing but rubble and dust. Just as we bombed London, so shall we bomb Paris. After that, we will strike against the Americans who made this possible, who attack like rats who have swum over a pond, attracted to the stench of death. Those you have lost, those you have killed to survive: their blood and their corpses attract these American rats. They will be exterminated, and then their cities will suffer the same fate. If it takes a year, if it takes ten years, Germany shall stand at the top of the world, and anyone who opposes shall tremble in our shadow.”
Someone in the crowd shouted a cheer they had heard hundreds of times. “Heute Deutschland, morgen die Welt!” Today Germany, tomorrow the world!
Another chimed in, “Lang lebe unser ruhmvoller Führer!” Long live our glorious leader!
“Sieg Heil!” Kitz bellowed out, and the crowd as one snapped their arms out, shouting the praise back to him: “Sieg Heil!”
“Yes!” Kitz bellowed. “We will shine as a beacon to the world. However, at the moment, we have rats right here amongst us. We have allowed these Jewish rats to exist, thinking it’s because we need them, because they do hard labor while we relax. As it should be!” he added. “What proud Aryan man should scrub pots like a housewife? Let the Jews! What strong German soldier who fights and bleeds for his Fatherland should be reduced to scrubbing toilets? Let the Jews!”
“They smell like shit anyway,” shouted a soldier.
Kitz’s bulging eyes gazed around at the gathered platoon. “That is what we have been saying. For months, we have simply let these Jews continue in our midst. They grow bold, we shove them down. They try to steal … we punish them. These two,” he said, pointing at Levi and Moses, “I caught them stealing our food. I personally witnessed both. I have soldiers who are supposed to watch over the rats, but obviously, like a fickle cat, their interest was drawn aside. They’ve stopped being vigilant.” His eyes turned straight to Eren, Armin, and Jean. “They’ve let them into their homes.”
Eren gulped thickly. Was he partly to blame for this?
“They’ve forgotten just how vile these Jews are. They’ve forgotten the warnings of Hitler. So I will remind all of you,” he said, turning around to the circle of soldiers, stopping again to glare at Eren, “and I will give you a lesson you shall not forget anytime soon. First, the Führer spoke about the German attitude to the Jewish problem. These are his words from twenty-four years ago.”
He pulled out a sheet of paper and read from it.
“ ‘For us, this is not a problem you can turn a blind eye to—one to be solved by small concessions. For us, it is a problem of whether our nation can ever recover its health, whether the Jewish spirit can ever really be eradicated. Don’t be misled into thinking you can fight a disease without killing the carrier, without destroying the bacillus. Don’t think you can fight racial tuberculosis without taking care to rid the nation of the carrier of that racial tuberculosis. This Jewish contamination will not subside, this poisoning of the nation will not end, until the carrier himself, the Jew, has been banished from our midst.’ ”
Kitz folded the paper up and tucked it aside.
“I keep the words of my Führer close to my heart. I memorize his wise advice and his prophecies. He said in Mein Kampf—which I know all of you have read—‘the personification of the devil as the symbol of all evil assumes the living shape of the Jew.’” Kitz pointed to the two men being held at gunpoint. “Tell me, what do you see in these two? Do you see poor men of France, or do you see the devil himself?”
“The devil,” the majority shouted. Eren realized that neither Armin nor Jean joined in, and for that he was slightly glad.
“And not only are they Jews. They are French. Do you know the Führer’s thoughts about the French?” He pulled out a book tucked under his arm. “I was re-reading Mein Kampf this morning and came across this.”
He flipped to a marker stuck between pages, held the book out to see the letters clearer, and enunciated.
“ ‘The French people, who are becoming more and more obsessed by Negroid ideas, represent a threatening menace to the existence of the white race in Europe, because they are bound up with the Jewish campaign for world-domination. For the contamination caused by the influx of negroid blood on the Rhine, in the very heart of Europe, is in accord with the sadist and perverse lust for vengeance on the part of the hereditary enemy of our people, just as it suits the purpose of the cool calculating Jew who would use this means of introducing a process of bastardization in the very center of the European Continent and, by infecting the white race with the blood of an inferior stock, would destroy the foundations of its independent existence. France’s activities in Europe today, spurred on by the French lust for vengeance and systematically directed by the Jew are a criminal attack against the life of the white race and will one day arouse against the French people a spirit of vengeance among a generation which will have recognized the original sin of mankind in this racial pollution.’
“We cannot allow these Jews and these negroid-loving French to push us, or it will be the death of the Aryan race. I will show you what sort of animals these are. These parasites. Lieutenant Jäger, come forward.”
Eren tried to look stern as he approached, but his stomach was already twisting. He had no idea what the captain had planned, but whatever it was, it was not good.
“Lieutenant Jäger, you were the one who suggested we use these creatures. Why?”
“A corpse serves only worms, Herr Hauptmann,” he replied.
“Do you pity them? If I shot one…” He pulled out his Webley and put it to Levi’s head. “…would you mourn?”
Eren’s face did not flinch. “Why would I?”
“Should we give these two a chance, although they stole from us?”
“That is at your discretion, Herr Hauptmann.”
“What if it was you, Jäger? If you had to make the call, what would it be? Punishment? Death?” He sneered with disgust. “Mercy?”
Eren weighed his words carefully. “I would punish them according to their crime.”
“And to the others? To the Germans who coddled them until they reached this point of thinking they can get away with stealing our food?”
“Such people deserve a lesson in the importance of differentiating an enemy from an ally.”
“A lesson,” Kitz mused. “What lesson would you teach all these fine, German men? Look at them, Herr Leutnant. What is your lesson?”
Eren looked out at the soldiers, all of them watching with anticipation. He had to say the words he knew, even if he no longer felt them in his heart.
“Jews … are not like us. They are, as the Führer said, a parasite, the personification of the devil. We must remember that fact. They may be useful for labor, but they are not like us. They are under us. Untermenschen! We must never fall into the false belief that we are equal to a parasite. To do that is to disgrace all the Aryan race. To disgrace Aryans is to disgrace Germany itself. To disgrace Germany,” he said with a fire in his teal eyes, “is to make you my enemy.”
Armin watched his lieutenant with a worried gaze. “Eren?” he whispered, hardly able to comprehend how he could say such words.
Kitz clapped slowly. “Such passion is befitting a lieutenant of pure Aryan blood!”
Eren shivered slightly but held his face still. His blood was not pure at all, even if legally he was not considered to be a half-breed.
“We are, indeed, above them. Let them continue to grovel in our shit for a few pieces of moldy bread, but let us also dole out a proper punishment, one even a parasite can understand. Jäger, ask the Jews this. Would you be willing to do anything to avoid being executed right here?”
Eren turned to Levi and repeated the question into English.
Levi’s eyes narrowed. “That depends. Some things, a man simply doesn’t do.”
“Levi, this may mean your life,” Eren urged, but the stubbornness in his face showed that he was not going to change his mind. “Fine. What does Moses say?”
Levi asked Moses in French, and it was obvious he was eager to agree to anything. Eren turned to Kitz.
“The tall one agrees, the small one has reservations.”
“A clever one, for such a tiny bug.” Kitz stared down into Levi’s eyes. “Tell him this. I will let him live only if he learns to obey simple orders.”
Eren translated this, but Levi’s stolid face did not change.
“The orders will be clear and simple. First…”
Levi watched the exchange between the two in German. He was actually impressed that Eren could stand there and look so stern. He was such a young man, and yet he must have seen a lot in life to get to be this way. Finally, he turned to face them.
“He has three orders for you, Levi, which you must follow if you wish to escape execution. First, strip naked. Second, get on all fours, like an animal. Third, whatever happens, do not move from that position.”
Levi sneered. “Humiliation? If he thinks this is bad, then he has never seen the depths of human savagery.”
Eren already had a bad feeling, but he said nothing. He had watched Levi strip for bathing every week. Now he realized everyone else would see the man’s scars, signs of that rough life, the taut muscles and slender build.
A few soldiers hooted as Levi removed his clothes. They mocked his small size and leanness. They were not at all impressed with the scars. They pointed and laughed at his manhood, circumcised as his religion demanded. Levi ignored them. The late summer sun on his bare skin actually felt nice. He only wished he had been clean. He felt filthy.
Kitz ordered, “Wie ein Hund, schmutziges Judenvieh.” Like a dog, dirty Jewish beast!
Eren’s stony gaze did not waver. “He says, get down on all fours like a dog.”
“Should I bark?” Levi asked sarcastically as he dropped to the soft soil of the field. Eren did not reply, but the captain was already giving more instructions.
“Leutnant Jäger, gib der anderen Ratte diesen Befehl.” Lieutenant Jäger, give to the other rat this command.
Levi stared down at the dirt and caressed it with his fingers. Rich French soil! There had been a time when he thought about working this soil, maybe owning a vineyard in the south, or a humble farm out in the countryside where Petra could have had a big garden, a sprawling paradise of flowers and shade trees, and a lazy pathway they could walk along together, arm in arm. He could help her grow fields of lavender, vines full of melons, maybe a trellis with beans hanging down, where she could sit in the shade with a book, reach up, pluck off a bean, and have a little snack on a hot summer day. She deserved to have more than her little spot in front of the kitchen window, barely big enough for some potatoes and herbs.
If he had to get down on his hands and knees, at least it was on soft, rich, bountiful French soil.
“Herr Hauptmann!”
Eren’s scream, almost enough to make his voice crack, drew Levi’s attention. He looked up and saw the young soldier with his mouth open, pure disgust on his face, recoiling from his commanding officer.
Shit! What was about to happen this time?
* * *
Eren had been trying to keep calm. He knew he could not expect to always save these Jews. He knew a day might come when he would have to punish them again, like when he had to flog Levi. Orders were orders. What he did was for the glory of Germany.
There was no glory in this.
Kitz said without pity, “When a human knows he may die, he will either fight or run away. When an insect knows it is about to die, what do you think it does?”
No one in the crowd answered. Eren glanced back and saw Armin with a look of revulsion. Whatever this question was leading to, his sharp mind had figured it out, and Eren saw that this was not good.
“Insects and animals have a single instinct: to perpetuate their species. Be it a cockroach, a rat, or a Jew, if a lower creature knows it is about to die, it develops a single instinctive desire: to mate.”
Eren’s eyes widened, and around him he heard mutters already.
“Lieutenant Jäger, give to the other rat this command.” He walked up to Moses and looked into his dark eyes. “If he wishes to live, he will fuck this tiny man.”
That was when Eren cried out in horror, “Herr Hauptmann!”
Kitz’s mad eyes swung over to him. “Are you like a delicate milkmaid who faints at the sight of the animals mating?”
Eren gulped down a blast of acid from his stomach. “It’s … vile. Two men!”
“No sane human would agree, right? But an animal would. An animal would chew off its own arm to escape a snare, and if threatened with death, an insect will mate with anything it can. Instincts kick in, and there is not much that stops a creature. I will prove to all of you,” Kitz shouted to the group now whispering in disbelief. “These Jews, and those like them with tainted blood, are not true humans. They are a lesser form, closer to animals. If I must, I will force that lesson into each of your minds. Jews are disgusting. Homosexuals are disgusting. The French are disgusting. It is the duty and the honor of pure Aryans to purge this filth from our lands.” He looked back around to Eren and ordered coldly, “Tell him, fuck this man or he will be shot.”
Eren shuddered. He looked down at Levi, naked and prone. It made sense now. This was not just about the humiliation of being naked. It was far worse!
“Is there a problem, Herr Leutnant?”
“I’m trying to think of the word in English, Herr Hauptmann,” he said in excuse as he forced himself to return to an impassive state. “I learned English as a child, so … I’m not certain about sexual terms. I think … if I say it this way…”
* * *
Levi was still watching Eren, but by the faces he was making, his hope of escaping this with just soil on his knees was diminishing.
Surrounded like this, there really was no way he could fight his way out. He had to put up with the punishment, whatever it was.
Eren pursed his lips, then firmed up and stared down at Levi as if he was something else, not a Jew, not a prisoner, certainly not the man he had chatted with for hours over the past few months, almost even befriending him.
“The captain’s orders for the other Jew … repeat them in French.” Eren still struggled. He looked like he was truly having a hard time finding the English words. “If he wishes to live…”
Eren paused, so Levi told Moses just that part. “Si tu veux vivre…”
“The two of you … he…”
Eren rubbed his head, as if racking his brain for the right word, but Levi saw his thumb deftly sweep away a teardrop. Then his face went cold again, completely devoid of emotions, as he finished.
“He must stick his … schwanz … penis … into you.”
Levi stared, certain he heard that wrong. “What?”
Eren’s boot stomped down onto Levi’s hand. He shouted at the pain and glared up defiantly, only to see Eren’s eyes were very different now: hollow, detached, austere, grim as he followed orders.
“He must fuck you or be shot, and if you move from this spot, you will be shot. Do you understand, Judenscheiße?”
Levi sneered back. “I understand.”
“Das ist besser.” That’s better. “Now, tell him.”
Kitz laughed at the harshness. “Sehr gut, Herr Leutnant.” Very good, Lieutenant.
Levi was still in disbelief, but he realized the harsh words and even the boot on his hand were merely a show, part of his expected role. Eren had shown horror and dread. Now he had to atone in front of all his fellow soldiers.
Levi had warned Eren so many times to do precisely this, to follow orders and do whatever it took to survive. The brat was finally obeying him.
“Moses…” Levi began quietly, and he gave his companion the horrific news.
“Non! Je ne le ferai pas.” No! I won’t do it.
Eren pulled out his own gun and pointed it at Moses’ head. “Nein?” he asked coldly.
“Moses!” Levi said sharply.
The man still shook his head. “Je ne le…”
“Fais le. Obéis-leur.” Do it. Obey them. “Tu dois vivre. Nous tous. Nous devons vivre, peu importe le prix.” You have to live. All of us. We have to live, no matter the price.
Moses still shook his head, trembling in horror.
“Moses,” Levi said calmly. “We have to live. You promised, right? That girl you like, you told me about her; she’s waiting in London. She wants you to make it out of France. So close your eyes, pretend it’s her, and in the morning it’ll be a forgotten nightmare. The Lord won’t hold either of us guilty, not when it’s like this. That rabbi, remember? He told us, if we must work on the Sabbath or if we must eat non-kosher food during dire times, if we must break some of the rules to make it through this time of oppression, so long as we survive as a people and we atone when we are safe, the Lord will forgive us. He told us that, remember? Do whatever you must in order to survive.”
Moses looked torn. He glanced up to Eren’s gun, then down to the man who had led them through so many troubles. “Levi … you…”
“It’s not like I’m a virgin, and your dick is too small to hurt me much.”
Kitz barked impatiently. “Was sagt er?” What is he saying?
“Do it,” Levi sneered. “This madman may kill us both if you don’t.”
“Even so, I don’t know if I can like this, in front of all these people, and to you. Where do I even stick it?”
“In my arse, you idiot.” Levi sighed but knew Moses had a point. If it was the other way around, there was no way he would have been able to get hard. “Close your eyes, pretend it’s your girl, and you’re fucking her in the hallway of a large party, just out of sight of everyone.”
“No offense, but you’re smaller than my girl.”
“Go to hell. Look, these bastards are getting impatient. Eren is trying to keep us alive—”
“He’s pointing a gun at me,” Moses protested.
“You know he won’t shoot, but any other bastard here would. I trust him. Just look at his eyes.” Levi looked up at Eren. “He hates this,” he whispered, heartbroken to see that emotional emptiness again. “He’s obeying because if he doesn’t, we’re dead, and he’s going this far because if he doesn’t, someone else will. Now, will you do what you have to so both of us can survive, or will you force him to shoot?”
Moses sneered, shaking his head in rage. “Qu’ils soient maudits … oui.” Curse them all, yes.
Levi looked up to Eren and answered in English, “He’ll do it.”
Eren’s boot moved off his hand. “You can’t move. The captain keeps repeating that.”
“Tell your captain that one of these days I will cut off his penis and shove it into his own throat.”
“I’ll tell him you promise to obey.”
“Fuck you all,” he sneered.
However, Levi saw a moment of regret in Eren’s face at that verbal attack. Dammit! He was furious, he was about to be humiliated in the worst way possible, but this boy … this brat…
“Takhshet,” he whispered, staring at the ground. “Remember. No regrets. Survive.”
His hair was suddenly grabbed, but not harshly. Eren was acting again. As he raised Levi’s face to look into his eyes, Levi saw all the pain in the young man’s heart for a brief moment.
“You too,” he yelled harshly. “Don’t you fucking die on me!”
Levi sneered, hating how this must be torturing Eren inside. “There is no way in hell I’m dying before you,” he growled.
Eren dropped Levi’s head and raised back up, glaring down at him. “Good. I’ll hold you to that promise.”
Levi glared at Eren’s back as he walked over to his captain. Rather than worrying about himself and how much this would probably hurt, he was enraged at the idea of how much guilt this would cause Moses, and worried if Eren’s acting could convince everyone around him. This must be killing his soul deep inside.
He really was too nice for his own good.
Eren saw his captain waiting impatiently, as well as all the German soldiers surrounding them in a circle, some nudging each other in amusement, others looking appalled.
“The tall one agrees,” said Eren.
“And the small one?” asked Kitz.
“Feisty, but he will obey the order not to move.”
Kitz patted Eren’s shoulder. “You handle them well. You were so weak around them before. I’m glad you had this experience to tough you up. Sometimes, we must be around our enemy to truly revile our enemy. Never forget,” he shouted out to the gathering. “Die Juden sind unser Unglück! Wir hassen die Juden und Ausländer. Die Deutschen—die Deutschen—immer vor dem Ausländer und den Juden!” The Jews are our misfortune! We hate the Jews and foreigners. The German—the German—always before the foreigner and the Jews!
“Blut und Boden!” someone shouted. Blood and soil, a Nazi slogan.
Kitz boomed out, “Machen Deutschland wieder groß.” Make Germany great again. Then he outstretched his arm in salute. “Sieg Heil!” Hail victory!
The Germans saluted back and shouted, “Sieg Heil!”
“Sieg Heil!” he cried.
“Sieg Heil!” they chimed in.
“Sieg Heil!”
Eren joined in hollowly for the final shout. “Sieg Heil,” he said with his arm out as he had held it thousands of times before, yet never had his hand felt so heavy.
“Remember this day,” Kitz barked out. “Remember the sickness, the disgust, of what you’re about to witness: the depravity of the Jew. Let it burn a scar in your mind. Remember it, so that your children and your children’s children never have to witness it.”
Kitz then looked at Moses with a sadistic smile. He waved down to the Jew, showing him to go ahead and get started. The poor man was still trembling, and there were tears on his cheek.
“Jäger, instruct the mute animal on what it is supposed to do.”
A soldier shouted out from the crowd, “Perhaps he’s a virgin and doesn’t know how.”
“Perhaps it’s too small for even his own hand.”
Some of the crowd laughed. Eren strained to stay unaffected.
“Levi,” he said, and he spoke in English. “Tell him to do it or he will be shot.”
“He knows. The poor man is terrified. He can’t exactly get hard.”
Eren took Moses’ shoulder and stared straight into his shivering eyes. “Je m’excuse,” he said, one of the few French lines he knew. I apologize. Then he pushed Moses to his knees. Eren pulled out a handkerchief from his back pocket and wrapped it around Moses’ eyes.
Moses squeaked out, “Qu’est-ce que tu fais?” What are you doing?
Levi sneered in frustration. “Il te sauve la vie, idiot.” He’s saving your life, you idiot.
“Herr Leutnant?” asked Kitz.
Eren stood back up. “Like blinders on a horse, Herr Hauptmann. The crowd was distracting him.”
Kitz burst into laughter. “Like blinders on a horse? Jäger, that’s brilliant. See, this is why you rose to be an officer. Intelligence is just as important as strength, and humor as well. Indeed, you make a fine German soldier, Jäger.”
“Thank you, Herr Hauptmann. May I step back? I don’t want any of their male filth to get on me.”
“Good point.” Kitz also stepped back. “They probably finish as quickly as horses too.”
Eren returned to where Armin and Jean were standing. Armin grabbed his arm.
“Eren, he isn’t really going to make them do that, right?”
“Obergefreiter Arlelt,” Eren said sternly.
The young soldier stiffened at the coldness of his military title, especially with a commanding officer whom he had been so close with, they were on a first name basis.
Eren glanced over to him, and his nostrils flared with each heavy breath. He whispered to his fellow teammate, “Make sure I don’t do anything stupid.”
Armin’s pale blue eyes grew sad. He knew Eren had grown close with these prisoners, especially Levi. He went out of his way to help them, and Armin had tried to assist as well. Now, they were all powerless.
Armin looked back as they saw Moses stroking himself, trying to get prepared. “Does … Does it hurt, doing it in a butt?”
Eren’s fists tightened to hide his rage. “How should I know?” he said, but his voice quavered.
* * *
Levi waited, trying to breathe calmly, although he heard Moses behind him starting to pant as masturbating seemed to finally be working to get himself erect.
“Aren’t you ready yet?” he asked.
“I think … yes. But how do I…”
“Just stick it in and thrust. That’s all they want: a show. Perverse entertainment for perverse Nazi swine.”
He felt rough hands touch his backside, and Levi flinched on instinct.
“You were already hurt there—”
“Shut up and get it over with. Finish it quickly and it won’t hurt as much.”
He felt something pressed against him, and Levi slammed his eyes shut. Damn these Nazis! Damn them! Damn every single one of them now laughing, damn them all! He felt Moses fumbling, pressing, but not going in.
“It’s too tight, too dry. This is impossible!”
“Obviously homosexuals do it somehow. Try spitting on your dick.”
Levi cringed just knowing there would be saliva as well now. So much filth, such disgusting things! He felt ready to vomit as Moses pressed against him again, this time with a little moistness.
“It won’t work. Ahhhhh!”
Levi looked around. Kitz had Moses by the hair, spewing something in German, obviously threats to kill him if he did not get on with this.
Levi sneered at him. “Espèces de sales boches!” Filthy Kraut animals! “Moses, do it.”
“But Levi—”
“Do it before he shoots us both! A bullet in my back will hurt a lot worse than your dick in my arse.”
Moses sneered in disgust. “I do it to save you.”
“Fine. And I’ll put up with it to save your life. I’ll put up with anything to get all of us out of this insanity.”
“Forgive me,” he whispered. Then Moses grasped himself and pressed harder.
Levi clenched at the soil, yanking up the roots of grass and wildflowers, gritting his teeth to hold back a growl of pain. He had known worse pain, at least. Those soldiers with the broom were far worse. At least this felt soft, not splintered, and it did not go in so deep where it would tear his colon.
Still, it was humiliating to know everyone was watching. They were laughing and shouting in hateful voices. At least Levi did not understand their words. He kept his eyes slammed shut so he did not have to see them. He did not want to know what faces these Germans were making.
He did not want to see what sort of face Eren might be making as he witnessed this ultimate humiliation.
* * *
Eren watched, numbed and disgusted. He could barely see Levi’s face. He kept it down and hidden as his body was assaulted from behind.
“It’s disgusting,” Jean muttered. “The captain should not be—”
“Say nothing!” Eren ordered, his face cold but his body tense.
Jean glanced down at the young lieutenant. The rage in his face was obvious, and Jean frowned, hoping no one else saw him.
Kitz Woermann knelt in front of Levi. “This one is stubborn. Still proud no matter how you’re broken, huh? Like a pack horse; those too can be strong. Although you’re nowhere near large enough. More like a tiny yet mighty falcon.” He yanked Levi’s head up by his oily hair. “There is no freedom in your wings, though. Only the wind of change blowing from Germany and sweeping across the plains of the world. A mere animal cannot hope to keep up with the progress of humanity. In the end, an animal is still an animal. You hide the beast’s blood in your veins. You’re not a noble falcon at all. You are no different from a grunting pig.”
He shoved his gun between Levi’s teeth, forcing his mouth open. Now when Moses thrust in, the pain made Levi groan, and his voice could not be suppressed. The cries of pain came out, and Levi feared that if he bit the gun and left teeth marks, he would be shot. Instead, he salivated over the cold metal of the gun and stared at the steel barrel, part of him wondering just when the trigger would be pulled.
“That sounds better,” Kitz said sadistically. He suddenly punched Levi’s hand that had been tearing at the soil. Levi howled in pain. “Hands flat! How does it feel, finally seeing just how far those of your race will go? Rats! Parasites! You would do anything to survive, crawling there, accepting this. Maybe you’ve done it before. We hear stories about you Frenchmen. Your kings were fucking men and women alike for centuries. You’re probably enjoying this. It sure looks like your faggot lover likes it. Your ass must feel really good, loose from all the homosexual Jewish sex.”
Kitz suddenly yanked the gun out and smacked Levi over the face with it, cutting his cheek.
“Jewish French faggots. Can there be anything lower than worms like you?”
He then ripped the blindfold off Moses’ face, forcing him to see precisely what he was doing to his friend. With that, Kitz stood and moved out of the way.
“Your faggot lover looks like he’s at his limit. He really does last shorter than a horse. I don’t want any of the filth to get on me.”
* * *
Levi swallowed hard. He had no idea what this German was saying, but at least he could close his mouth again. He hated the grunts of pain being pummeled out of him. For Moses’ sake, he did not want him to think this was hurting just as badly as it actually was.
Suddenly, Levi’s face rose, and his eyes met Eren’s. He shook his head, silently telling Eren not to watch. Not this!
Eren’s face showed rage, indignation, and murderous hatred. Levi kept looking at him. Instead of hiding from the shame, he focused on this one soldier, one of the few Germans he had ever known who cared for his life. He focused on Eren’s rage, and somehow that made this bearable.
The hatred in those teal eyes gave Levi hope. Levi knew that this was not how the future of the world was going to be, not when there were good men like Eren Jäger alive.
That was the only thing that helped him get through this.
Despite the pain behind him, despite the grunting as Moses obeyed against his will, despite the cheers and horrific cries of the surrounding crowd, Levi stayed silent. He did not cry out, even as he felt blood trickling down his thighs. He did not move, even when Moses thrust in harder out of pure instinct and warned him in French, apologizing that he was at his limit. Levi kept his eyes on Eren, kept all of his hopes in Eren … even as he heard Moses cry out and felt extra pressure filling his ass.
At least it was over quickly—
The sound of a gun blast deafened Levi, and he jolted, wondering what just happened. Seconds later, he felt the penis inside him slip out, and Moses fell over with a hole in his forehead. It took Levi a couple of seconds to fathom what just happened, and when he did, any composure he had maintained through all of this shattered instantly.
“No!” he screamed in horror.
* * *
Over in the crowd, Armin and Jean both grabbed Eren, physically holding him back.
“You can’t do anything,” Armin warned softly.
“You should have known it would happen,” added Jean.
“He promised … he said…” Eren was trembling now.
Armin grabbed Eren’s wrist before he could reach for his gun. “Eren, seriously, stop!”
“The Jew, he only did it to live. He only did it—”
“Be quiet, Jäger,” Jean said harshly.
Luckily, there were many other people talking, some in shock, some in disgust, and some cheering “Tötet alle Juden! Tötet alle Juden!” Kill all Jews! Not many noticed a single lieutenant ready to kill his captain.
Kitz put his Webley back into its holster. He gazed down at the naked Jew still on his hands and knees. Suddenly, Levi turned his head up to the German captain. Rather than his normal glare of rage, this time Levi looked horrified.
“What is worse than a Jew? A French Jew. What is worse than a Frenchman? A homosexual Frenchman. A homosexual French Jew? They are the lowest scum on the Earth.” Kitz looked around. “Can anyone answer why I shot him?”
A soldier in the crowd shouted back. “If he was willing to do it, he must have been homosexual already. If that is true, we all were in danger.”
“Correct! Can anyone tell me why I did not shoot them both? The answer is not that one happens to be our translator, by the way.”
Another soldier hollered out, “He was the victim of homosexual lust. The victim is not guilty of the crime.”
“That’s also correct. Most of you are young, you do not remember the world as it used to be. Germany was filled with homosexuals. They had their own newspaper, their own beer halls, their own parties filled with sodomy and depravity. One lived right next door to me. They were everywhere! The world was filled with homosexuals, Jews, negroids, and foreigners. You fine men grew up in privilege, and it was my generation who made sure the future would be clear and bright for you, just as you fight for the generation to come. Obergefreiter Arlelt.”
Armin stiffened up. “Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann?” Yes, Captain?
“You’re one of the youngest here. Do you remember that song from school that goes … we are the joyous Hitler Youth?”
Armin nodded. “Yes, Herr Hauptmann. Shall I sing it?”
“All of you,” Kitz shouted. “Everyone under the age of twenty, you who are blessed to grow up in a strong Germany under Führer Hitler, sing!”
Eren’s lips moved with the song, but his voice did not reach far. He glanced around and saw how many of them were so young.
* * *
Wir sind die fröhliche Hitlerjugend,
Wir brauchen keine christliche Tugend,
Denn unser Führer Adolf Hitler
Ist stets unser Mittler.
Kein Pfaffe, kein böser, kann uns je hindern,
Uns zu fühlen als Hitlers Kinder.
Nicht Christus folgen wir, sondern Horst Wessel,
Fort mit Weihrauch und Weihwasserkessel!
Wir folgen singend unseren Fahnen
Als würdige Söhne unserer Ahnen,
Ich bin kein Christ, kein Katholik,
Ich geh mit S.A. durch dünn und dick.
Die Kirche kann mir gestohlen werden,
Das Hakenkreuz ist Erlösung auf Erden,
Ihm will ich folgen auf Schritt und Tritt,
Baldur von Schirach, nimm mich mit!”

We are the joyous Hitler Youth,
We need no Christian virtue,
For our Führer Adolf Hitler
Is always our mediator.
No priest, no evil, can ever hinder us,
To feel ourselves as Hitler’s children.
We do not follow Christ, but Horst Wessel,
Away with incense and holy water vessel!
We follow our flags singing
As worthy sons of our ancestors,
I am not a Christian, not a Catholic,
I follow the Sturmabteilung through thin and thick.
The church can be stolen from me,
The swastika is salvation on earth,
I will follow him at every step,
Baldur von Schirach, take me with you!
* * *
Kitz looked proud. “It is good to hear you sing that. It is good to see so many young Germans who got to grow up feeling proud of their heritage, not ashamed. It’s good to see your eyes so bright, like your futures. This Thousand Year Reich will support you throughout your lives. This war, it’s nothing. These horrible sights, they will never exist again. The existence of the Jew will one day be something for history books. Do not forget today’s lesson about the Jew. Remember how low they are, how they truly are nothing more than animals to be wiped out. Officers, you are to lead the younger ones under your command in that song as well as Horst-Wessel-Lied all week. Let them remember what they were taught in school. Let them be proud. Dismissed. Riebe! Jäger! Grützmacher! Stay.”
The three soldiers called out approached while the rest scattered. Eren stepped around the blood on the soil, but he tried not to look at Levi.
Kitz gazed at the three of them. “Most of the men looked disgusted, as they should,” he said quietly, “but you three looked upset. That wasn’t pity, I hope.”
Eren immediately began to think of how to get out of this, but luckily one of the others leaped in.
“Yes, captain, I was upset,” said the one named Grützmacher. “To witness such a disgusting thing, it was all I could do not to shoot them right away. If I may…” He pulled out his Luger and pointed it at Levi’s head.
“Sadly, we need this one alive for now. Save your bullets for the Allies.” He looked over to Reibe. “And you? You almost looked terrified.”
The young soldier still appeared to be shaken. “My apologies, Herr Hauptmann. My brother … he was caught for being a homosexual. My family knew about it, but my parents wanted to hide him. They were arrested. I was too young, I did not understand. Now I see what these sorts of people do, and to think that I share blood with a man who did such things to another man … I feel truly sick. I want to vomit, thinking back to my filthy brother and traitorous parents.”
Kitz patted the young man’s shoulder. “We can’t pick our kin. It’s fortunate that scientists have not found any link between heritage and homosexuality, and I hope they never do. I also had an uncle like that, and I reported him to the Gestapo myself. You are wiser for this experience.” Those sunken eyes then turned to Eren. “And you, Jäger? I hear you’ve made this little Jew into your pet. Were you upset to see him being bred like that?”
Hearing the other two helped him to come up with a reason. “No, Herr Hauptmann. I was just remembering my time in Napola. I had two classmates who ended up being homosexuals.”
“I’ve heard rumors of this story. Tell me, what did you do with them?”
“They were caught by teachers. We children were tasked with punishing them, and we did. All of us!”
“As one would expect, our glorious education system puts punishment into the hands of peers. I’ve read in your file about the incident. It says you personally punished them harder than any of the others.”
“Yes, Herr Hauptmann. They were my friends. One does not forgive a betrayal like that.”
Kitz waved down to Levi. “Show me what you did in Napola. I’m curious how our education system raises fine young men.”
Eren glanced down at Levi, still recovering from the assault. He felt nothing at all as he delivered a swift kick to the reddened buttocks, knocking him down flat.
“Schieb‘s dir in den Arsch, scheiß Schwuchtel,” he snarled. Shove it up your ass, shitty faggot. “Both boys received kicks like that from every single child in the school, each of us saying those words. There were a little over a hundred in attendance. My kick apparently broke the coccyx of one of the boys.”
Kitz snickered in pride. “Good! I like that. I’ll have to remember it if any soldiers are caught in the act. You two: take out your horror and rage now. Just like Jäger did, do the same.”
Eren watched as they did. The one with the homosexual brother kicked awkwardly and stuttered the words. However, Grützmacher kicked so hard, Levi screamed and sprawled out over the grass from the blow to his rear. Grützmacher then began to stomp on Levi’s back, shouting over and over, “Schieb‘s dir in den Arsch, scheiß Schwuchtel. Schieb‘s dir in den Arsch, scheiß Schwuchtel.”
“Enough!” Kitz pulled him off. “We wouldn’t want too much Jewish blood on your boots. Grützmacher, your aggression suits you. You’re in charge of getting him back into the prison. Do not kill him. Until Berlin sends us a translator, we need that thing.”
“If you insist,” he said with a sneer down at Levi.
“Herr Hauptmann,” Eren said cautiously. “I normally make sure the Jews get back into the prison. I know where they are kept.”
“You’re needed. We intercepted some radio communication between the Americans. I want you to translate their English.”
Riebe pointed to the dead body of Moses. “What about the corpse?”
Kitz waved dismissively as he began to march back toward the village. “I’ll have some locals come and burn it. It’s so filthy now, I wouldn’t want any pure Aryan to touch such a disgusting thing. Komm jetzt mit mir, Jäger.” Come with me now, Jäger.
Eren saw Levi struggling to get back up, rubbing where he had been stomped in the back. When their eyes met, that dark gaze was filled with pain and rage. Eren felt like holding him, apologizing, shielding his nakedness and caring for his wounds. He knew he could do nothing but glare at him.
Levi bowed his head as if humbled, and although quiet, his voice seethed with defiance. “I swear to every angel in Heaven, takhshet, you had better not get killed after I’ve endured all this or I will personally request the Lord to let me torment your soul for eternity in Gehinnom.”
Grützmacher laughed. “So passiv! Wie ein getretener Hund. Was hat er gesagt, Jäger?” So passive! Like a beaten dog. What is he saying, Jäger?
Eren had to think up of something quickly. “He thanks us for still being alive and will work in any way we have need of him.”
Grützmacher grinned. “Any way? I could use a slave. Mind if I borrow him for a week?”
“Jäger!” Kitz shouted back to him.
Eren turned away from the sadistic man and from Levi. “His skills are needed for the moment. He can’t be killed yet, Grützmacher. Remember that.”
“Oh, I won’t kill him,” Grützmacher said with a devious snarl.
There was nothing more Eren could do. If he disobeyed orders, he could be the next one Kitz creatively punished.
# # #
# #
#
Okay, take a moment, slow breath, in … out … you are safe.
I listed many Nazi slogans in this chapter. “Die Juden sind unser Unglück! Wir hassen die Juden und Ausländer. Die Deutschen immer vor dem Ausländer und den Juden! Blut und Boden!”
For the record, because someone with a MAGA hat in their closet will throw a hissy fit if I don’t clarify this … “Machen Deutschland wieder groß” (Make Germany great again) was NOT one of Hitler’s slogans, although his followers did use those four words. So while the similarity to Donald Trump’s slogan “Make American Great Again” is pure coincidence, the nationalist ideology is the same.
https://i.imgur.com/oLNRppd.png
Wir sind die fröhliche Hitlerjugend – a song from the Hitler Youth. It was first sang at the 1934 Nuremberg Party Rally.
Sturmabteilung – also called SA or Brownshirts, paramilitary wing of the Nazi Party. They played a significant role in Hitler’s rise to power.
Horst Wessel – a member of the SA who was murdered and made into a martyr of the Nazi Party.
Baldur von Schirach – the head of Hitler Youth.
Horst-Wessel-Lied – anthem of the Nazi Party and later the co-national anthem, lyrics written by Horst Wessel.
Gehinnom – Jewish Hell. Or not. You see, Jews are not clear about an afterlife. As a saying goes, “Ask two Jews, get three opinions.” Some Jews do not believe in an afterlife at all, some believe in reincarnation, others in Olam Ha–Ba (the World-to-Come). Some think Heaven is a giant library where you study the Torah for eternity (wait, that’s Heaven?!?) while others think it’s a ladder leading to God, or Eden Above, or something celestial. Similarly, what happens if you’re bad is unclear, with many theories but no official description of a Hell-like place. There’s Sheol, basically like a dark and quiet spot where your soul has 12 months to sober up from the hangover of human mortality. If you can put aside human weaknesses, you ascend, and if you can’t shake that dark side, there’s Gehinnom. You could call it Hell, but some Jews prefer to think of it as “Heaven’s Washing Machine,” where your soul gets a 12-month rigorous cleansing. Or as one playful rabbi described it to me, “the angels play tennis with your soul until they beat the sin out of you.” Kinda sounds hilarious, rather than terrifying. It is generally seen as an act of kindness, not torture. So basically, you get tossed around and beaten for a year, then you are again judged, and if you are still a smelly, awful person, back into the Heavenly Washing Machine with you! For the truly evil, rather than just 12 months in Gehinnom, their soul is tortured until the angels get bored. This could be a hundred years, or next to eternity. Then that soul is simply disposed of. No ascension, no rebirth, they are simply thrown away like trash, complete cessation of existence. Because the Torah is not clear on precisely what happens after you die, the afterlife is seen as something not worth worrying about. Speculation is fine, ideas of Heavenly Washing Machines or “Angel Tennis” are amusing, but God never bothered to tell us, so it’s unimportant. Praise or punishment should not be the determining factor on whether you live life as a decent person. God should not have to bribe you to be good.
More info on Horst Wessel and Baldur von Schirach
(oft-forgotten figures in history)
Horst Wessel joined many right-wing nationalist groups as a teen, quitting some if they were not extreme enough for his views, until he landed in the SA. He idolized Hitler and even quit school to put all focus on the SA. He quickly rose to Sturmführer (Storm leader) in charge of a district in Berlin. There, he fell under the command of Joseph Goebbels, who later became Hitler’s head of Nazi propaganda. (Side note: Goebbels was also the Nazi equivalent to Harvey Weinstein, blacklisting actresses if they refused to have sex with him, and came up with a law that if a woman refused to have sex with a member of the SS, she would be deemed a traitor to the Party and killed. #MeToo is many decades too late.)
Horst Wessel was a talented speaker, and Goebbels sent him to areas of Berlin where members of the German Communist Party hung out, in order to give rousing speeches that would stir up strife. Goebbels would then spin the conflicts as evidence that Communists were violent. One day, Wessel led his Brownshirts to a tavern the Communists used as their headquarters. The Communists claimed the SA arrived and began to violently attack them, leaving five of their members badly wounded before running away when police arrived. The Nazis insisted that Wessel had been exercising his right of free speech when the Communists attacked them out of nowhere, and they merely defended themselves. In either case, Wessel was a marked man, and Communists pasted his picture up around town with the slogan, “Strike the fascists wherever you find them.” (Similar to today’s #AlwaysPunchNazis.)
Wessel and his lover, Erna Jänicke, rented a room from the widow of a Communist. They refused to pay rent, and the widow found out Erna was a prostitute, with Wessel acting as her pimp. The widow demanded that Wessel pay his overdue rent and Erna had to leave. Wessel threatened her. Fearing for her safety, the widow asked her late husband’s friends for help to get the couple out of the house. As soon as they heard the name Horst Wessel, the men agreed to deal with him. What happened next depends on whom you ask. According to the Communists, Erna’s old pimp, Albrecht Höhler, had recently been released from jail and went to the house to win her back; a scuffle ensued, Wessel pulled out his gun, and Höhler shot him in self-defense. According to the Nazis, Erna never worked for Höhler, he was hired by Communists, not to merely oust Wessel for not paying rent, but to kill him; so Höhler went to Wessel’s flat, knocked on the door, and as soon as Wessel opened it, Höhler shot him in the head at point-blank range. Höhler was arrested and sent to jail, but he received a light sentence of only six years. When the Nazis rose to power, the Gestapo murdered Höhler.
Meanwhile, Wessel survived, was treated, but doctors could not remove the bullet from his brain. He was sent home to his parents but died a month later at the age of 22. His funeral was attended by many high-ranking members of the Nazi Party, including Hitler. (Fun side note: the character Horst Kessler in the German Netflix series Berlin Babylon is loosely based on Horst Wessel, including [spoiler] his death at the hands of Erna’s pimp. It’s a great show to bingewatch while you’re in quarantine.)
Joseph Goebbels, who had tried and failed many times to come up with a martyr to be used as propaganda for the Nazi cause, found the perfect figure in Horst Wessel. Before the young man was even dead, Goebbels began to write newspaper articles, painting Wessel as a devout Christian with dreams of a better world, who taught young boys to cherish their German heritage, a kind soul who tried to rescue a prostitute from off the street, and was brutally cut down in his youth by “degenerate communist subhumans.” For years to come, Goebbels built up an almost Christ-like innocence around the memory of Wessel; thus the line in the Hitler Youth song, “We do not follow Christ, but Horst Wessel.”
A year before his death, Horst Wessel wrote Die Fahne hoch (Raise the Flag), a song he used to mock Communists around Berlin. Now known as Horst-Wessel-Lied, it was made into the Nazi anthem. Goebbels claimed Wessel wrote both the lyrics and music, but the Christian praise song How Great Thou Art has the exact same tune, just sung as a hymn instead of a march. When the Nazi Party took control, Horst-Wessel-Lied became the co-national anthem, sung immediately following Deutschlandlied. People were required by law to give the Hitlergruß (Hitler salute) when singing the first and last verses. With the end of the Nazi regime, the song was banned in Germany and Austria. Finding online recordings is rare, since sites take down the song as soon as it is reported. The few versions I found on YouTube had dozens of Neo-Nazis in the comments section, so I refuse to link to those. (Plus, this story might get taken down if I link to a song that is banned in some countries. I hate censorship!)

Baldur von Schirach was born in Berlin, the son of a German-American aristocrat father and American mother. (Fun fact: his father’s father fought in the American Civil War and was in the honor guard at President Lincoln’s funeral, while his mother’s family descended from two signatories of the American Declaration of Independence.) Schirach studied Germanic folklore and was an author, contributing to many literary journals. After hearing one of Adolf Hitler’s speeches, Schirach immediately read Mein Kampf in a single evening. He developed strong anti-semitic views, joined the SA, and wrote books that flattered Hitler, helping to further his political career. In 1929, Hitler made Schirach the head of the National Socialist Students’ Union and assigned him the duty of bringing the university system under Nazi authority.
In 1932, Schirach asked Hitler’s personal photographer, Heinrich Hoffmann, for permission to marry his daughter, Henriette, a lady Hitler himself had briefly dated. Her family strongly opposed some “young effeminate aristocrat” marrying their daughter, but Hitler liked the match, insisted that they be married, and offered to be their best man. This brought Schirach into Hitler’s inner circle, and the couple were frequent guests at Hitler’s mountain retreat residence, the Berghof.
Whereas Hitler initially just wanted to win over voters, Schirach persuaded him to focus on children as well. Hitler named him Reichsjugendführer (Youth Leader) of the Nazi Party, and Schirach designed a militant youth group, a place for children to learn how to be good Aryan boys and girls, and a system to indoctrinate them in Nazi ideology. He called it Hitlerjugend, or Hitler Youth. Schirach frequently appeared with Hitler at rallies to lead the Hitler Youth in chants and songs. He hosted contests, and schools that got 100% of their students into Hitler Youth would get prizes. Such contests prompted schools to kick out Jews and non-white students, since they were forbidden from joining Hitler Youth. He wrote prayers dedicated to Hitler that were read by members of Nazi youth groups prior to having their meals. Pictures of Schirach were second only to Hitler’s in displays throughout Germany, and he was featured in the Nazi propaganda movie Triumph of the Will. All this attention brought him many enemies within the Nazi ranks, with plenty of rumors that he preferred little boys.
In 1940, Schirach organized the evacuation of five million children from cities threatened by Allied bombing. Later that year, he joined the army, volunteered for service in France, was promoted to Leutnant, and decorated for bravery before being recalled.
In 1942, Hitler appointed him as Governor of Vienna, where Schirach was responsible for deporting 65,000 Viennese Jews to concentration camps. Although he was anti-semitic, even saying that deporting Jews was his “contribution to European culture,” still he was appalled by the conditions in which Jews were being deported and wrote a formal letter of complaint. He also sheltered the son and Jewish daughter-in-law of composer Richard Strauss for two years, until the Gestapo discovered them. Schirach personally made sure the two were not sent to a concentration camp, but placed under house arrest, as a favor to the composer.
In 1943, his wife Henriette made history books for being one of the few people to criticize Hitler to his face and survive. While visiting friends in Amsterdam, she witnessed Jews being violently grabbed off the street and hauled away. She was horrified, and her friends expressed grief that this was happening all across the Netherlands. (Actually, it was happening in all German-occupied countries, but average Germans never saw it.) They asked Henriette if she could tell Hitler about it, since she had been friends with him since her childhood. She immediately traveled to the Berghof, where the inner circle of Nazi leadership was in a meeting. She told Hitler about what horrors she saw, but he dismissed her as being sentimental. As he stood to leave, Henriette rose to her feet and declared, “Herr Hitler, you ought not to be doing that.” She had dared to go against the Führer, and in front of his men! Hitler immediately sent her home, and the Schirach family never saw the Führer again. Shockingly, Baldur von Schirach did not lose his position in Vienna. Perhaps it was Hitler’s way of honoring his old friendship with Henriette.
As the war came to an end, Schirach sent Henriette and their children out of Vienna. He attempted to escape by disguising himself as a journalist, but he finally surrendered to the Allies. During the Nuremberg trials, U.S. prosecutor Thomas J. Dodd brought up the fact that his name was evoked in the song We Are the Joyous Hitler Youth in the final line “Baldur von Schirach, take me with you!” (https://collections.ushmm.org/search/catalog/irn1002311) Schirach was one of the few high-ranking Nazi officials to disavow Hitler. He swore he was unaware of the existence of the extermination camps and produced evidence of his protest against the conditions of the Jewish deportation trains. This saved him from a death sentence, but he was still found guilty of crimes against humanity and sentenced to 20 years in prison. His wife divorced him, and upon his release he retired to the countryside, where he penned his memoir, Ich glaubte an Hitler (I believed in Hitler) before his death in 1974.
“Schirach corrupted millions of German children so that they became what they really are today, the blind instruments of that policy of murder and domination which these men have carried out.” — Final speech of the British prosecution at Nuremberg against Schirach, August 30, 1946.
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Dangerous Territory