Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

Dangerous Territory	By : Rhov Category: +. to F > Attack on Titan /Shingeki No Kyojin Views: 4227 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own “Shingeki no Kyojin” and do not make money from this fanfic.

Chapter List
- 24
- 25
- 26
Chapter 25
Witlof

Luckily, the rest of that day went without incident. Armin’s map took them much farther north than they had anticipated, up steep hills of the Ardennes, avoiding the city of Saint-Hubert.
It was getting dark when the forests opened to farmland, and the sun had already set when Eren rode into a town. He looked at his map again. Armin had marked to stop there for the night. It was not a huge buffer between them and an approaching army, but with any luck, they were slightly ahead of the Americans.
Eren was now glad he was riding ahead, and he was dressed as an average traveler. No one paid much attention to him, other than a glance at seeing two men riding one horse. He rode through the village, hoping to find a tavern, inn, or anything useful. As he reached the end of the village without seeing anything promising, he came to a halt and frowned.
“No hotel,” Levi muttered. “Not surprising. Even if a village like this ever had one, it probably closed up when the war began.” He saw a man out on his porch smoking and watching the rain. “Monsieur, parlez-vous français?” Sir, do you speak French?
The man muttered, sssez bien.” Well enough.
Eren stayed quiet as they spoke. Finally, Levi whispered, “Turn back around. He told me of a house we can try, a man named Dimo Reeves. He’s either the mayor or a really important businessman, it’s hard to tell with that accent and using some strange slang. If not him, then the church should at least take us in out of the rain.”
They rode back, and Levi told him which house to look for. They saw it, one of the larger houses in town, and it looked cozy as the night got darker. Levi dismounted and went up to the door. Golden light poured out, and Eren could smell something good cooking. A balding, overweight man answered. To Eren’s surprise, he sounded excited to have guests and waved them forward. A freckle-faced redhead young man came out to get the horse. Eren flinched as he slid off the saddle, and he hissed at the pain in his leg. He limped up to the porch, where he and Levi stomped and scraped off as much mud from their boots as they could.
Stepping inside, a jolly middle-aged woman, even fatter than her husband, came up to them, speaking in something that almost sounded familiar to Eren.
Dimo warned her, “Spreek Frans, schat.”
How close that was to German! Was this Dutch?
Dimo turned to the two of them and seemed to be apologizing for his wife. She gushed in excitement as she took Eren’s leather coat, and awkwardly she took the rain-soaked blanket Levi had wrapped up in.
With halting words and a strong accent, she said, “Je vais les mettre près du feu.” I’ll put them near the fire.
Then Dimo led Levi and Eren upstairs. Eren limped up the steps, really starting to regret thinking he was lucky to have only been shot in the leg. They were shown to a room with two beds, which Levi assured was enough.
Eren walked in without a thanks and collapsed on the bed in exhaustion. Levi shook his head and apologized to Dimo. He was then led on a little tour around the house while Eren refused to move. The bed was soft, the air had a gentle fragrance, and hearing the jolly voices was somehow soothing.
He rolled back into a sitting position and looked down at his leg, worried that blood might have gotten on the nice quilted blanket. Luckily, although there was a tear in the gray trousers and a dark stain from blood, it had not rubbed off. He would have really felt bad if he had ruined some nice family’s quilt.
Levi returned and saw Eren flinching as he rubbed out his thigh. “Are you okay?”
“My leg is throbbing,” he grumbled.
“I told them you were shot by bandits as we rode through the Ardennes. They’re fetching medicine and bandages.”
“That’s nice, but the company should be arriving soon. They have medical supplies.”
Levi walked to a fireplace in the room and piled on some quartered logs. “Eren, don’t take this the wrong way—actually, by all means do—I don’t think we should let this family know what you are?”
What he was? Eren’s eyes narrowed. “Do you mean German? Why not? The others should be here within the hour.”
“Exactly.” He struck a match and caught some kindling ablaze. “A company of soldiers is going to come clomping up that road, it’ll scare a lot of people, and I’d rather not get kicked out into the rain, especially not with you wounded.”
“I have to report to the captain when he arrives, and I can’t just not talk all night, even if I have no clue what these people are saying.”
“Actually, there’s an easy way to get around all these problems.” Levi took a poker and shifted the kindling around to catch more of the logs on fire. He knew Eren would get upset as soon as he confessed this. “I told them you’re an American journalist covering the war.”
“Levi!”
“Well, they’re going to hear us speaking in English, so I had to tell them something. This way, when the army arrives and you sneak out, I can tell them that you’re hoping to write a good story for the newspaper.”
“What does it matter if they know I’m a soldier? We’re leaving in the morning.”
“Would you let a British soldier sleep under your roof?”
Eren’s mouth clamped shut. “No,” he grumbled. “I’d shoot him on the spot.”
“Exactly, and I’ve almost been shot twice today. I’d rather not see if third time’s the charm.”
Eren jolted at the phrase. “Third time is … a charm?”
Levi rolled his eyes. “It’s an English saying. Anyway, if they think I’m French and you’re an American, maybe these people will talk, perhaps even tell us more news about the war. We could say you got separated from the platoon you were tailing as a journalist, and if they know where the nearest American troops are so you can find your way back.”
Eren had to admit, that was brilliant foresight. “Levi, you would make a very good spy.”
He scoffed at that. “I’m just trying to stay alive.” Seeing that the fire was well on its way, he hung up the poker and rose to his feet. “Now, there’s a toilet right across the hall. Take a bath, and be careful about that wound. Hopefully, we will have bandages by the time you’re done.”
“Actually…” Eren flopped back on the bed. “I just want to sleep.”
“At the very least, get out of those filthy clothes. The husband said he would see if there’s anything for us to wear while our clothes dry, but given that the whole family looks fat, I doubt anything will fit.”
Eren said nothing and rested his eyes, trying to shove away the pain. Levi sighed in sympathy and took a towel folded by a small wash basin. He walked up to the bed and wiped Eren’s face and hair.
“If you don’t dry off, you’ll catch a cold.”
Teal eyes opened in surprise, but Levi’s face remained neutral as he stroked the cloth back. Eren whispered, “Thank you.”
Levi’s face barely moved, but Eren saw a gulp getting caught in his throat. “You’re like a little boy.”
Eren hummed, enjoying the feel of Levi caring for him. “Do you like that about me?”
Levi’s eyes turned to meet his gaze, and Eren thought he saw his lips twitching slightly. “Get out of your clothes,” he whispered.
Eren’s breath caught.
“I’ll place them by the fire. You need to dry off.”
His heart calmed back down. Eren wished this was a slightly different scenario, and Levi was saying that in a warmer tone. Despite aching fatigue, he sat up. He started with his shirt, but his cold, rain-puckered fingertips struggled with the buttons.
“Che! Are you so childish, you can’t even do this much?”
Eren was going to protest that after a day of holding onto reins and his hands being soaked for hours, his fingers needed time to warm up so they would work right. However, before he could speak, Levi leaned in and began to undo them for him. Eren watched as Levi stood so close to him. His heart pounded again, and he licked his lips. Kisses from last night raced through his mind.
After getting the last button, Levi leaned up, their eyes met, and their faces were so close they could feel each other’s breaths. Levi reached forward and placed his hands on Eren’s chest, right between the opened panels of the shirt. Slowly, he pushed the fabric aside, sliding his hands along his chest, up to his shoulders, and down his arms, languidly feeling the muscular biceps. Eren gasped at the pleasure of slowly being undressed. Levi’s eyes burned into him, and that sharp gaze alone made Eren want to whimper.
Then Levi dropped to his knees. Eren made another tiny gasp, but he realized Levi had bent over to unlace his boots. Eren finished removing his shirt, and once the boots were loosened, he pushed them off.
“Socks too, or you’ll get trench foot.”
Eren had no idea what trench foot was, but he removed the socks. They plopped down moistly to the ground.
“Let me see your leg.”
Biting his lip, especially with Levi still on his knees in front of him, Eren loosened his belt, unzipped the trousers, and shifted his hips so he could pull them off. Levi took the trousers as they passed the knees, and slowly he slid them off Eren’s legs.
Eren stared, hardly believing this was happening, and unsure about what he should do next. He just sat there, his heart thumping, his lungs burning for more air, his mind racing, his whole body thrumming as he sat on the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but his pale cotton boxers, with Levi kneeling right in front of him.
Levi’s hand stretched forward and touched his thigh right next to the bandage. Eren flinched, partly from the shock of Levi touching him, partly from pain.
“It’s inflamed. Hopefully they’ll bring some antiseptic.”
Eren could barely hear him over his racing heart. Levi’s hand caressed all around the bandage, feeling the heat of the reddened skin, but all Eren could feel was that soothing touch. He averted his eyes, knowing his body was reacting. He couldn’t help it!
Levi also noticed, and he stared at the stiffness in the boxers getting longer, rising higher.
“Such a little boy,” he teased.
His hand slid up Eren’s thigh, closer and closer. Eren slammed his eyes shut and let out a whimper. The stiffness twitched. Levi looked up and saw the agonized pleasure in Eren’s face. How tempting!
Then he heard a pan clanking downstairs, and his hand slid back. He pulled away, resting on the heels of his feet.
“Not today,” he whispered.
Eren opened his eyes, torn with desire but nodding in agreement. They were staying in some strangers’ house. They had to watch themselves.
Levi stood and gazed down at Eren. “Bundle up.”
Purely to hide from the embarrassment, Eren quickly hid under the blankets and yanked them up to his chin. He reached down, wishing he could shove that erection away. Meanwhile, Levi swooped down to gather the wet clothes and walked over to the fireplace. Eren watched as he laid out the clothes.
“Thank you.”
Levi looked back, seeing Eren still had flushed cheeks. He focused back on the clothes, chiding himself for what he had done. Why had he acted that way? It was so dangerous! Yet he had wanted to, and he very nearly did more. Levi gnashed his teeth, shook his head, and silently cursed himself.
Putain, je suis trop stupide. Très, très, très stupide. Fuck, I am so stupid. Very, very, very stupid!
After admonishing himself, Levi walked back to the bed. The childlike flush to Eren’s cheeks and the innocent humiliation in his teal eyes softened Levi’s heart once again. Why did he feel so strongly like he had to protect this man? He placed a hand on Eren’s forehead and smoothed back some wet strands of hair.
“Take a little nap.”
Eren smiled in bliss, and with the softness of the pillow, his eyes began to drift down. Levi watched until he saw Eren sink deeper, his face turning slack, and his breath getting steady and heavy. Once he was sure he was asleep, he leaned over and placed a small kiss on Eren’s forehead. He gazed down at that innocent, sleeping face.
In a breathy whisper, he muttered, “Je me déteste d’avoir ces sentiments.” I hate myself for having these feelings. Still, he stroked back Eren’s brow, and a wistful smile struggled to fight the scowl on his lips, twisting his face into a battlefield of emotions, as he whispered with endearment, “Mon petit gamin.” My little boy.
* * *
Eren woke up still feeling gentle touches on his head, until he wondered if any time had passed at all. However, he realized his hair felt dry now. He wanted to just lie there, fingers smoothing back his brow, and revel in that tender touch.
“I know you’re awake.”
His eyes slowly lifted, and he saw Levi sitting by his side. He was wearing different clothes, a plain brown outfit with a white collar, and he smelled faintly of soap.
“The company?” Eren asked drowsily.
“They never arrived. Either they’re really far behind, or they stopped in the village we passed up the road. It was late when we got here, so I’m guessing they stopped once it got too dark for the horses.”
“Verdammt.” Eren raised up. “I should ride back, see if they’re safe.”
“You need to eat, and I have bandages to dress your wound.”
“That can wait.”
“You feel feverish. Your leg might be infected.”
“My men come first!” he snapped.
“Take care of yourself before you worry about them,” Levi shouted. “Besides, what if they’ve been attacked?”
“All the more reason to ride back.”
“You’re safe here.”
Eren shook his head and stubbornly stood up. Levi suddenly grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t go!”
Eren spun around. The way Levi shouted that was not just in anger. It was tinged with fear, pleading more than ordering. Although Levi’s eyes were as narrow and glaring as ever, there was a twitch to his jaw that gave away his feelings.
“We’re safe here,” Levi said softer, and the grip on Eren’s wrist slid down to hold his fingers. “Just for one night. This night, especially.”
This night. After having most of his fellow Jews slaughtered, Eren did not blame Levi for wanting to stay away from Germans, to sleep in a bed where he felt safe from the horrors. His heart ached to think how Levi had been forced to press on, to walk away from the bodies of his comrades and help the enemy, just so he could survive a little longer.
Eren let out a sigh and gave him an apologetic smile. “I guess I could use some food first.”
He saw Levi’s shoulders sag in relief, and he released Eren’s hand. “ Dinner is ready. Wash up first. I already took a bath, so make sure you get yours. There are clothes.” Levi grumbled, “They’ll fit you slightly better than me.”
Eren arched an eyebrow as he looked a little closer at the brown outfit Levi was wearing. At first, he thought it was a nightgown, but now he realized it buttoned all the way down and had a feminine white collar. “Is that … a dress?”
“It belongs to their daughter. At least she’s not fat. I could fit my entire body in one leg hole of that man’s trousers. This was the best they could do for me. It’s hospitality, so I’m not going to complain.”
Eren nodded in agreement. Anything was better than wearing wet clothes. He walked over to a pile of spare clothes warming up by the fireplace and left for the bathroom. Levi walked over to the window and peered out into the rainy night.
For a moment, he had feared that if he let Eren ride out into that darkness, he might never see him again. While that would mean he was free from Nazi oppression, he also strongly did not want Eren to die out there.
He hated that growing warmth in his chest. He could have escaped a million times over that day. He thought about it more than once: sitting behind Eren, he could have used his knife to slit his throat, or simply snapped his neck, thrown his body to the wayside, and then he had a horse. He could have used the map in his saddlebag to make it back west, headed to the coast, where he could get a boat and get the hell out of Europe.
Instead, he had felt happy holding around Eren’s waist and resting his cheek on his strong back.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” he whispered.
He fled the worrying thoughts and went downstairs, into the cheery warmth of the family’s parlor. Their son, Flegel, was sitting by a fine colorful glass lamp reading a newspaper. He looked old enough to get married but was so fat and unattractive, likely even the family’s wealth could not secure him a wife.
“Is he awake yet?” he asked, sounding grumpy. “I’m hungry. Mother won’t let us eat until he comes to the table.”
“He’s washing up. His leg needs to be clean before he gets an infection.”
“You said he was shot in the forest. Bandits, was it?”
“I assume so, but I didn’t exactly stop to ask. Could’ve been Germans for all I know. As soon as we heard the gunshots, we got the hell out of there.”
“On that horse? She’s a mighty fine mare, gotta say. Don’t see horses like her that often.”
Levi merely mumbled, “Americans must have good taste.” He walked past before the young man asked too many questions.
The table was already set. Levi had learned a little about this family while Eren slept. The wife, Doortje, was from the north, primarily spoke Dutch, and when she spoke French it was with a very strong accent. The husband, Dimo, had lived his whole life in this town and was the wealthiest businessman, as well as the mayor, which was why one of the locals said to ask him about shelter. The house they were in had belonged to the Reeves family for three hundred years, and Dimo had bragged that they were Belgian nobility on his mother’s side.
Their son Flegel helped around the house and was poised to take over the family business. They also had a twelve-year-old daughter, Lieke. She sat in a wheelchair and stared out with blank expressions, other than an occasional random outburst.
Levi was glad when he heard the whole family speaking of Lieke with endearment. They apologized for her condition, but Levi waved it off. Not everyone was born to walk and speak. Some were born to teach love and compassion to others.
Eren came downstairs, his hair damp, suspenders holding up enormous trousers that sagged everywhere, but he was glad to be clean and wearing warm, dry clothes. As Levi saw him limping on his leg, he rushed forward, worried if Eren could walk. Eren smiled to see the worry pinching his brow, but suddenly he heard a bombastic outburst of a laugh from the parlor. He yanked away from Levi’s helping hands, startled by the sound.
“What was that?” he whispered.
“The daughter. She does that,” Levi explained. “You should have heard her laugh at me when I came down wearing one of her dresses.”
Eren saw her now, a girl with limp blond hair, her head slumped to the side like she had no will to hold it upright. Her eyes were glazed, looking in his direction without meeting his face, and an unnaturally wide smile showed off her crooked teeth. That outburst had been a punch of emotional reaction bubbling to the surface, and now she was still again.
“Don’t stare; it’s rude,” Levi whispered.
“What’s wrong with her?” Eren asked in shock.
“What’s wrong with you?” Levi snapped. “I didn’t ask, and neither should you.”
They walked together to the table, where Eren gladly sat and stretched out his leg. Dimo, Doortje, and Flegel took their seats, and all bowed their heads.
Eren had been about to reach for his cup to drink, but he jolted to a halt. Prayer!
He was glad to be with a family that prayed before meals, just like when he was growing up and his father said grace over each meal. In Napola, they had been discouraged from doing so, seeing it as a distracting weakness. Food was meant to build an Aryan’s body to be stronger, nothing holy about it, just balanced nutrition after hard work. In the military, they rarely prayed, either eating their food as quickly as they could, or too busy teasing one another to bother with niceties. Eren had privately said prayers over some of his meals, but never as a group like this.
As Dimo recited a prayer in French, Eren glanced beside him, worried if Levi would pray or not. To his surprise, he had folded his hands and closed his eyes. Maybe he was saying a different prayer, but Eren’s cheeks warmed to see a little solace in that relaxed face.
After an amen, they ate. It was a bowl filled with mashed potatoes, some pale leafy vegetable wrapped with thin slices of meat, and baked in a pale sauce. Although it did not look exactly appetizing, as Eren took a bite, he was pleasantly surprised.
“What is this?” he asked.
Levi turned to the family and asked. Doortje began to gush out her recipe in Dutch.
“Witlof met ham en kaas uit de oven. Gewoon een witlofstronkje inwikkelen met ham. Ik maakte een mornaysaus. Dat is een bechamelsaus met heel veel kaas.”
Levi merely raised an eyebrow, and Dimo laughed with an awkward apology.
“C’est-à-dire que c’est de la chicon au gratin, d’endives belges à la sauce béchamel avec du fromage. Ma femme fait les meilleures sauces.” That is to say, it is chicory au gratin, Belgian endives in bechamel sauce with cheese. My wife makes the best sauces.
“Endives? C’est quoi, cette viande?” Endives? What is this meat?
“C’est du jambon.”
Levi let out a sigh and looked at the bowl. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Why?” asked Eren. “Is it disgusting?”
“No. Do you know what endives are?”
“I’ve never had it, but we call it endivie.”
“It’s that, with potatoes, a cheese white sauce … and it has ham.”
Eren wondered why Levi said that with a frown—the sweetly savory ham and cheese sauce really balanced the bitterness of the endives—until it suddenly dawned on him.
“Jews can’t have ham.”
“Not like it matters,” Levi grumbled. “I ate ham most of my life. A little now isn’t going to make much difference. I’ll pray for forgiveness another day.”
Saying that, he dug into the meal. Eren felt sorry for him, though. As hungry as Levi obviously was, Eren had seen a moment of regret and hesitation when he heard what was in the meal. Still, he left the religious restrictions to him, and he thanked the family.
“Tell them I think it’s good.”
“Il dit que c’est savoureux.”
“Mon ami élève des cochons.”
Levi turned to Eren. “He says, his friend breeds pigs. Lucky us.”
Eren ignored the coldness of Levi’s tone and smiled at the Reeves family. “Thank you. Merci.”
Doortje beamed with glowing pride.
Dimo said slowly, “Alors, you … American, yes?”
Eren held back a sigh and simply nodded. He had to play a role tonight.
“Vous êtes journaliste.” He made a hand motion like writing with a pen.
“Yes, apparently now I’m a journalist for the Americans.”
Levi kicked him under the table. If he was going to act a part, he had to do it right, not grumbling in a halfhearted way.
Flegel muttered, “Très fort accent pour un Américain.” Very thick accent for an American.
“Flegel,” the father scolded.
Levi quickly covered for Eren. “Sa famille vient du Michigan. Il a dit qu’il y avait beaucoup d’Allemands et de Polonais y vivaient. Vraiment, je peux à peine le comprendre avec cet accent. Je parle généralement aux touristes britanniques.” His family is from Michigan. He said there are many Germans and Poles living there. Truly, I can barely understand him with that accent. I usually talk to British tourists.
“Ah, je vois.” Ah, I see.
Levi glanced over to Eren. If even a Belgian teenager could tell he had a thick accent, there was no way he would convince Americans.
The rest of the meal was kept with light conversation, sometimes the family asking Eren questions about America and Levi making up answers, but mostly Levi tried in subtle ways to see how much the Reeves knew about the war. They admitted that there had been Germans in the town earlier that year, but they had been left alone since the Normandy invasion. They heard news on the radio, but what they could tell Levi was nothing new compared to the notes made on Armin’s map.
Finally, the meal was done, Levi went out with Flegel to check on the horse, but the family’s little daughter began to grunt out complaints at being forced to wait for her food. Doortje rushed over and wheeled her into the dining room to feed her. Eren took over washing the dishes. He was happy to repay this family in some small way, plus the act of washing dishes had always soothed him.
He glanced back at the table. Levi had told him not to stare, but he watched as Doortje lifted spoonfuls of mashed potatoes to Lieke, who opened her mouth to eat but dribbled every other bite. Doortje smiled as she cleaned the mess off her daughter’s face. She spoke to her daughter in Dutch with joyful words.
“Hoe vind je het eten? Is het lekker?” How do you like the food? Is it good?
Lieke burst out a laugh that sent a spray of food out of her mouth.
Doortje merely chuckled proudly. “Ik ben zo blij dat je het leuk vindt.” I’m so happy that you like it.
Eren stared back down at the sink. In Germany, such disabled people were seen as not just an eyesore, but a useless existence, nothing more than a drain on society, a waste of food and resources. He recalled his father screaming in rage that the Nazi Party expected him to report any patient even assumed to have schizophrenia, epilepsy, or genetic diseases, especially when stories leaked out about Nazi doctors delivering lethal injections to any patient deemed incurable. Grisha had insisted he would not harm a soul nor turn over his patients to the Hereditary Health Courts, while Carla fretted that he would be arrested if he tried to protect them.
His father had not been the only one. In the years to follow, there were protests in the streets, especially Catholics enraged by Hitler’s forced abortions and euthanasia programs. Although Hitler ended the program, Eren was still taught in Napola that invalids were better off being killed, they were genetically impure lifeforms, empty soulless shells, and keeping them alive was nothing more than merciless torture, all for the sake of that social cancer called conscience that Jews spread in order to weaken Aryans.
Although he had been taught that it was merciful to swiftly and painlessly eliminate such people, freeing them from a life of useless misery, with a bonus of saving Germany money and food and relieving parents from a lifetime of fruitless work for a child who would never amount to anything, he could not think that this girl was in any sort of pain or misery. She laughed, her mother smiled, and although she stared off blankly most of the time, he saw a bright shine in her eyes that were so full of life.
Perhaps she would never be a great help to her community, but how was keeping her alive merciless torture?
After dealing with their daughter, Doortje returned to the kitchen to see Eren was almost done with washing the dishes. She smiled brightly at the handsome man at her sink.
“Bedankt voor uw hulp.”
“Hulp,” Eren repeated. “That sounds like help in English.”
“English? Ah, Engels.”
“And bedankt, that sounds like danke in German.”
“Was dat Duits nu net?” Was that German just now?
“Duits. Deutsch.” Eren flashed her a grin. “I can almost understand you.” He washed the last dish, turned to Doortje, and took her hands. “Truly, thank you for your hospitality. Bedankt.”
She blushed under his teal eyes and bashfully turned away. “Beste heer, ben jij aan het flirten? Je bent te knap om zo aardig te zijn.” Dear sir, are you flirting? You’re too handsome to be so nice.
Eren only made out a few words, but he still smiled warmly. Then he walked over to the girl. Although she did not make eye contact and silently rocked herself, he sensed that she knew he was there. “You’re one lucky child, to have been born into a family like this.”
He then headed up to the bedroom. He removed his oversize clothes and looked down at his leg. He had already changed the bandages once, but the gash had already bled through. He was glad the trousers were black and did not show the blood.
Just as Eren was unwrapping the wound, Levi stepped in.
“That daughter laughed at me again as I walked by. Hospitality be damned, I half-think they put me in this dress just to amuse her. Cute kid, but fuck this.” He quickly undid the buttons of the brown dress and threw it aside. “A shame we don’t have time to do laundry. I saw out near the horse shed, this family has a wringer washer. It’d be nice to wash my clothes for once, although I think my shirt would disintegrate if it went through a wringer.”
“Did you know Dutch is similar to German?”
Levi let out a slow sigh. “Please tell me you weren’t speaking in German with that woman.”
“Not really. I just understand her better than I do the rest of them.”
“Well, I’m glad they speak French, although there’s a strong accent. The husband guessed right away that I was from Paris.”
Eren looked over as he irrigated the leg wound over a large basin. “Paris? Is that where you’re from?”
Levi shrugged as he tested out the clothes he had laid out to dry. “Here and there. Most of my life was in Paris, though.” He sniffed his shirt and held it out with a sour expression. “Really wish I could do laundry.”
Eren finished cleaning the wound and dabbed iodine onto the gash from the bullet that had ripped into the side of his thigh. “Now that I think about it, I don’t know much about you. For instance, where are you from originally?”
Levi rotated the clothes to make sure they would be thoroughly dry by morning. “I was born in Strasbourg.”
Eren jolted, and his eyes widened. “Strasbourg? But … but that’s a German city.”
“Off and on,” Levi muttered. “I suppose it was when I was born. So I guess you could say I’m technically German by birth.”
Eren looked down, stunned. Levi … was a German?
“I was born there, but my mother and I moved to Paris when I was four.”
“Why Paris?”
He shrugged as he climbed into one of the beds wearing only his undergarments. “She got pregnant out of wedlock, and the other Jews in town rejected her, especially because she had no clue who my father was. Besides, Paris had more work.”
“Oh?” Eren rolled a fresh bandage around his leg. “What did she do?” he asked, excited to hear about his childhood and family.
Levi’s eyes narrowed, challenging him. “She pleasured men.” As Eren’s mouth dropped in shock, Levi went on, “She did what she could to keep us fed. In Strasbourg, there were plenty of tourists and German soldiers who paid for her services. As the Great War started up, she got the hell out of there. I don’t even remember the place. I grew up thinking of myself as purely French, especially when Germany lost Strasbourg in the War.”
Eren supposed that this showed just how ridiculous national lines were, arbitrary and petty means of dividing land between people. A city could switch hands between countries multiple times in a few decades. A man born in a town ruled by one country could move away and have nothing in common with a person from that country, considering himself fully a citizen of his new homeland, since that was where he grew up, the language he knew, and the nation he loved.
“Get some sleep. We should leave before the Germans come riding through town.” Levi muttered to himself, “I just hope they can refrain from looting the place as they ride by.”
Eren removed the baggy shirt and collapsed into his bed. Levi flipped off a lamp on the table between the two beds and lay back on the soft pillow. Eren rolled over to look at Levi across the way.
“I can almost pretend like we’re on a vacation together. Do you think I could get a kiss goodnight?”
Levi glanced over in the low light of the rainy night. “You’re an idiot. Go to sleep.”
Eren let out a sigh and closed his eyes. In no time, he was out cold. Levi heard his breathing go heavy, and he shook his head.
A vacation? Eren had probably never been in more danger in his life, and all he could see was the fun of riding through the forest. Still, it was a soft bed all to himself. Levi could not remember the last time he had such luxury. He stretched out, allowing himself a moment to feel blessed.
That morning, he only barely escaped being shot. Now, he was eating a hot meal and sleeping in a real bed.
The Lord worked in mysterious ways.
* * *
Blood was always the same. No matter the skin color, no matter the nationality, no matter the gender.
Everyone bleeds the same.
The faces blended together. The blood flowed into one massive red puddle. Eyes peered out from the blood, voices cried out, a dozen languages, a hundred screams.
“Ne me tue pas.”
BANG!
“Oseh shalom bimromav hu yaaseh shalom aleinu v’al kol Yisrael…”
BANG!
“Sois fort. Vis, peu importe le prix. Je t’aime—”
BANG!
Levi bolted straight up in bed screaming. He heard movement beside him, reached under his pillow, and in a flash had his knife out. He felt sweaty, shivering, hot and cold, and his heart would not slow down.
Calm! He needed to be calm. Focus. Assassinate the target—
“Levi?”
Another voice, another face. They all bled the same.
Then a lamp flicked on, and Levi was momentarily blinded. When he blinked out the glare, he saw Eren looking at him with concern.
“Put down the knife. You’re safe.”
He did not believe it. The screams, the voices, people he killed, people he watched die, people he could not save. So many puddles of blood blended into one massive crimson sea.
“Levi,” Eren said softly, sitting up on the edge of his bed. “You’re safe. It was a dream.”
“No,” he whispered, still shivering. “Worse. It was a memory.”
Eren pouted in sympathy and whispered, “Put down the knife.”
Levi felt like his hand could not loosen up, like if he let go of this one piece of protection, all of his defenses would crumble. With a few forcefully slow breaths, his fingers began to let up, and slowly his knuckles creaked as they loosened on the hilt until the knife dropped onto his blankets.
Eren walked over, moved the knife to the bedside table, sat on Levi’s mattress, and wrapped him up in his arms. Immediately, Levi began to panic.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Shhh,” he said, gently stroking his back. “It’s okay now. You’re with me.”
“Someone will see…”
“No one is here,” he whispered. “It’s just you and me.”
“The family—”
“They wouldn’t come in. That’d be rude. Even if they did, what would they do? They can’t hurt me. I’m an American journalist, right?” he said with a small laugh.
Levi did not feel like laughing. “I thought I heard bangs.”
“I heard it too.”
Levi tensed at realizing those were not just part of the dream. “Gunshots?”
“No. It’s the daughter. I heard her earlier tonight too. She bangs on the wall to get her mother.”
“Oh … just that girl,” Levi muttered, sinking and closing his eyes as fear seeped out, leaving him weary and vulnerable.
Eren continued to stroke Levi’s head. He had heard him whimpering in his sleep, but then again, he had heard those nightly terrors from many soldiers. Kriegsneurose, they called it. The trauma of war left many soldiers easily spooked. What Levi had gone through was far worse.
He felt Levi sinking, and Eren’s arms tightened to hold onto him. He smiled as Levi rested his cold cheek on his chest and his fingers grazed over him, like he needed to be sure Eren was really there.
Then Eren also got hit with a memory of his own that would haunt him. Abel’s glasses caught the light of a lamp, a golden glint as he stared into the barrel of Eren’s gun.
He did not deserve happiness.
Yet Abel’s last words had been to ask Eren to take care of Levi. To honor the memory of that poor man, perhaps he could indulge just a little. Eren closed his eyes, letting the warmth of Levi’s body soak into his frozen heart, and he stroked his hand up and down that thin, scarred, bare back.
“It’ll be okay,” he said, partly to Levi, partly to himself.
When Levi felt Eren’s warm hand on his skin, he sank even more. No one had comforted him since … when? Ever?
If his mother had comforted him, he could not remember. His uncle Kenny only taught him how to fight, steal, and kill. No one comforted him in the military, nor did he want it when the nightmares began. Petra never needed to since he felt he had to be strong for her, and he had hidden the nightmares. The same held true for his companions over the years. Levi acted cold and cynical, because the alternative was giving in to the memories and letting them drown him in fear.
He had to admit, it felt good to lean on someone for once. He felt something for Eren that he never had felt before, not even with Petra. Although he loved her with his whole heart, he always felt like he had to hide the nightmares. Even though he knew she was a strong woman, he wanted to be the protective husband. He never told her about what he had done in the military, other than a few casual stories about his travels. If she asked him why he woke up from nightmares, he would lie and say he could not remember what they had been about.
With Eren … maybe it was the gender, but he knew they were equals. They could both be strong, but they could both be weak. He had never felt that sense of equality with another human before.
With both wearing nothing but undergarments, he could feel Eren closer than he ever had before. His hand drifted up along the muscular chest, the same action he had taken earlier that night, stroking over Eren’s firm shoulder and down his upper arm. While he was painfully aware that this was a man giving him comfort, somehow that was the reason why Levi felt he could lower his guard. Rather than succumbing to a weakness, he felt like this was healing, draining an old wound, and it would lead to him being even stronger.
He needed Eren to heal, although he knew that staying near a Nazi was a death sentence.
“Why can’t I leave you?” he wondered aloud.
Eren closed his eyes at hearing that anguished question. “I’ve wondered that. I’m surprised you didn’t try to leave already. I’d let you go.”
Hearing that brought a brief, tiny smile to Levi’s face. “Idiot. They’d kill you.”
“Maybe not. I could say I got annoyed with you and put a bullet in your skull.”
“And if that captain of yours wants to see a body?”
Eren shrugged. “I fed you to the dogs.”
Levi laughed briefly, a crack through the cold bitterness that let in some of Eren’s warmth. “It’s tempting.”
“You should. Really. I could ride off tomorrow without you and let you stay here.”
“And what if you need me? What if you come across more Americans? Even that fat brat could tell you have a strong accent.”
“Do you mean Flegel?” Eren asked in surprise. “Wait, could he tell I was German?”
“No.” Levi shrugged and admitted, “I told him you were from Michigan.”
“What’s a Michigan?”
“It’s a place in America.”
“Why there?”
“I don’t know. It was the first place I could think of. My cousin mentioned once about Germans working on automobiles in Michigan, so I thought maybe they all sound like you.”
“Then maybe I should move to Michigan,” he teased. “Is it a nice city?”
“I think it’s a state.” Levi stared ahead, feeling soothed within Eren’s arms. He sighed as he relished those warm touches, and quietly he muttered, “You could come with me.”
Eren’s brow tightened. “What?”
Levi pulled back enough to look up into Eren’s teal eyes. “We could leave together. We have a horse. If we go early in the morning before the army arrives and ride to the west…”
Eren let out a nervous laugh and shook his head. “Are you joking?”
“You once said you wouldn’t mind keeping me company in America. I’m just saying, maybe I wouldn’t mind having you travel with me.”
“I meant after the war,” Eren said, his voice rising. “I never said anything about abandoning my men.”
“It’s not like they could chase you down. They’re in dangerous territory as it is.”
“Exactly! They need me more than ever.”
“They’d just as soon shoot you. Your captain nearly did this morning. If they ever found out about you … if they ever learned what you are … they’ll shoot you or arrest you and send you to one of those camps.”
“They could,” he said solemnly, “but I will not abandon my men.”
“What have they done for you?”
“What have they done?” Eren cried out, now sounding angry. “Jean has served as my right-hand man since the day I was put in charge of this platoon. Armin is like a brother to me and has saved not just my life, but yours, many times over! Connie took a bullet for me once. Thomas nursed me back to health. I’ve lost good men, many of them following my orders, believing in the cause we all are fighting for, to preserve the Aryan race and make our nation great once again.”
“Do you really think a country that murders men like you and me can ever be great?”
“It is great!” Eren shouted. “Deutschland ist das beste Land in der Welt!” Germany is the best country in the world.
Levi frantically hushed him and looked around in paranoia.
“Ich bin doch kein Deserteur. Ich bin ein Leutnant der Wehrmacht.” I am not a deserter. I am a lieutenant in the Wehrmacht.
“Will you shut up?” he hissed.
“No! Because I think you are forgetting. Just because I am not in my uniform right now, I am still a soldier, and I would never betray my country.”
“Fine! It was just a fucking offer.” Levi let out a scoff and spun away to look at the rain on the dark window. “I just thought…”
He thought how nice it would be. They were finally away from the military, away from soldiers and uniforms and constant shouting in German. He could almost imagine Eren as just a man, not an enemy soldier in the midst of the biggest war the world had ever seen. How simple it would be, to take off on the horse and simply vanish! The German company would never know where they went. Besides, Eren had dreamily talked about going to America one day, and Levi had urged him to find him after the war.
For a moment, Levi had really thought it would be nice to sail to America together, yet reality was harsher than that.
Arms wrapped around him, and he thought he felt lips on his neck. Levi slammed his eyes shut, insisting to himself that he did not feel disappointed, not in the least!
“I’m sorry,” Eren whispered, his lips moving on Levi’s neck.
Levi gulped down an angry lump in his throat. “Why would you be sorry?”
“Because the truth is … it’s very tempting.” He bit back his emotions, but they still struggled to surge up. “I want to get away from all this: from the war, and killing … what I’ve had to do…” Abel’s face flashed in his mind again, and with it the emotions he had been shoving aside all day. “…what I did,” he whispered as tears dripped down his cheek, and he brushed them away. “It’s very, very tempting to leave.”
Levi turned back around to see the misery in Eren’s face. “Then why don’t you?”
“I can’t,” Eren sighed. “I wish I could just forget it all,” he said, his throat clenched. “But I can’t. I’ll never forget, and I’ll never betray my men. They’re my friends, my brothers, Waffenbrüder. Right now, the lives of every person in that company depends on me. If I left them to die in this war, everything I’ve done, everyone I’ve killed…” His hand stretched out and caressed Levi’s cheek. “…everyone I’ve hurt,” he whispered, “what would it be for? If I don’t have the conviction to continue and see this war to the end—win or lose—then what was it all for? So I can’t abandon them when they need me, no matter how tempting it is to stay with you.”
To stay by Levi’s side, to leave, escape it all, go to a happier place and live together in a land without war and bloodshed and constant fear. How nice it would be!
Eren’s hand softly stroked Levi’s cheek. “May I kiss you?”
“No,” Levi said coldly.
Eren jolted his hand back. Respectfully, he pulled away and lowered his head. “Sorry,” he whispered.
Levi looked toward the dying fireplace. Yes, he was angry. He had opened his heart to Eren, and now even invited him to run away together, only to get shot down. Although he understood why Eren felt he could not go, it hurt that he put a country that hated Jews and homosexuals before his own growing feelings.
“I should sleep more.” Levi turned and nestled back down into his blankets. “Sorry for waking you.”
Levi felt Eren shifting on the bed, turning to go. Just as he felt the warmth leave, his hand shot out. He grabbed Eren’s wrist, holding onto him tightly. Eren paused and looked down in surprise.
“Stay,” Levi whispered.
Eren’s mouth dropped. “Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want it, takhshet.”
To his surprise, Eren collapsed down beside him, and instantly his arms were around him.
“Hey!”
Eren snuggled up behind him. “Can I stay like this for a while? Just until you fall asleep?”
Levi rolled his eyes, although he felt like blushing. “Do whatever you want.”
Eren turned off the lamp, wiggled under the blankets, and curled around Levi with a relieved, giddy smile. Levi again felt lips press on the back of his neck, and he heard the distinct pop of a kiss.
“What are you doing?”
Eren gasped. “Sorry.”
“I didn’t say you had to stop.”
Eren hesitated, but his lips returned with a hesitant kiss to the back of Levi’s shoulder. His whisper came out low and warm. “May I do this much?”
Levi felt a chill in his arms and heat in his cheeks. “That much is fine. Just don’t try anything weird.”
“I won’t,” he promised, with another kiss to the side of Levi’s neck.
Eren peppered slow, tiny kisses to Levi’s back and neck. Levi held still, staring out toward the window, feeling those lips, that warm body up against him, the shivering pleasure radiating from his neck and spreading all through his body. He gulped hard, but he did not mind at all. It felt … nice … to have someone adore him.
Then Eren shifted to wedge himself up even closer and gripped one arm around Levi’s chest, pulling him in protectively.
“Now what are you doing?”
“I want to be near you.”
Levi rolled his eyes. So needy! “Fine. If you can’t leave with me, then you have to stay near me until the day I run off.”
Eren’s mouth dropped at the command, but then he laughed. It was such a sweet, boyish sound that it made Levi smile.
“Just don’t be surprised if I actually do leave in the middle of the night.”
“No way!” Eren squeezed a little tighter. Then he paused and said seriously, “Although, if you do, I won’t stop you.” He placed another kiss on Levi’s neck and teased, “But I might chase you.”
Levi stared out into the dark and mumbled, “I almost wish you would … but I understand if you can’t.”
After all, Eren was a soldier. He had pride in carrying out his duty to his country. Once, Levi had felt a similar patriotic pride. He remembered when national allegiance was all he had. Patriotism, loyalty, dedicating his heart to a cause, a burning conviction that what he was doing was right, until he stopped wondering if what he was doing was moral.
Levi closed his eyes. There were still the visions of blood, voices crying out, angry that he was alive and happy while they had died in misery and fear. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but it was what the Lord had granted to him, this little bit of joy, this warmth, this strange, foolish, peculiar love. He felt comfortable in this bed, wrapped in strong arms, next to a man who adored him.
He felt lips pressing again and again, tiny kisses all along his neck. He thought about telling Eren to stop since there was no way he could sleep with all the tiny shivers going down his spine, but instead he kept quiet. Let him do whatever made him happy! Levi had to admit, the adorable act brought warmth to his heart.
He wondered if Eren would try more. Although he had warned him not to do anything weird, all he had to do was roll around and those lips could be on him. They had a room to themselves. So much could happen…
After a minute, he heard Eren’s breathing go heavy again. Hot, even streams of air hit the back of his neck through lips that seemed to have fallen asleep in the middle of a kiss. Eren’s arm was still draped over him, heavy and limp, trapping Levi in place.
“Tu te fous de moi?” Are you kidding me?
Still, he felt like if those arms let him go, he would fall into darkness with the blood and screams and dead eyes peering at him. Here, he was safe, warm … happy. He let out a sigh as he drifted off to sleep.
# # #
# #
#
Trench foot was a big problem during World War I. It killed 75,000 British soldiers and led to thousands of amputations. It happens when a person wears wet socks and shoes for an extended period of time, such as soldiers stuck in the trenches, stomping around mud, getting rained on, and not removing their shoes for weeks or months, because the enemy might lob mustard gas at them. The feet wrinkle, become numb, may turn white or red, get watery blisters, may develop a decaying odor, and if left untreated, gangrene can set in. It can take as little as 48 hours of not removing one’s wet shoes to get trench foot. It can be easily avoided by changing into dry socks and letting your feet air out overnight. In World War I, commanders finally put other soldiers in charge of inspecting a fellow soldier’s feet every night. If left on their own, most soldiers did not bother, but when soldiers were responsible for someone else, they suddenly became diligent about foot checks, saving many lives. I had trench foot once on an extended camping trip. I simply did not take off my shoes during the whole 5-day trip, even when I trudged through a river. When I finally got home and peeled those socks off … it was quite a potent odor, that’s for sure! To this day, I can’t sleep wearing socks and I despise the feeling of wrinkly toes.
Witlof met ham en kaas uit de oven, or in French “chicons au gratin,” is made from Belgian endives (also known as chicory, chicon, or witlof/witloof) wrapped with ham, served on mashed potatoes, and baked in a mornay sauce (a cheesy bechamel, or white sauce). It’s considered to be one of the best “comfort food” dishes of Belgium. Thanks to Martine, who grew up in Flanders during World War II and gave me a recommended “typical dinner of the time.” You can find a recipe here: https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/149844/belgian-endive-au-gratin
Wringer washer – Ever heard of being “put through the wringer”? Wringer washers were the washing machines of the 1930s and 40s. You filled the round basin with water and detergent, put in your clothes, pushed a button, and it agitated them like a modern washing machine. However, instead of the fast spin cycle of today, soapy water was pressed out by a wringer. In earlier times, washtubs were stirred manually and the wringer was hand-cranked, but 1940s wringer washers were electric and automatic. Those clothes were pressed flat as you fed them through the wringer. (And hope to God your fingers don’t get in there!) Then you placed them in clean water to get out the soapy residue (a rinse cycle) and then it was back through the wringer to squeeze out the water before hanging them up on a clothesline to dry.
Languages of Belgium – Belgium is a country that speaks both French and Dutch, with some pockets of German-speaking communities to the east. Of the current population, 39% speak French (mostly in the south), 55% speak Dutch (mostly in the north), a handful speaks German, West Flemish, Limburgish, and Luxembourgish, with 22% speaking German as a second language. So it’s not all that surprising to have a family where the wife speaks Dutch but the husband speaks French, and both languages are used within the family.
The Reeves Family – Not only do I have Dimo and Flegel Reeves from the manga, but it was stated that Dimo had a wife and daughter who were never named. So I gave them some Dutch names, Doortje and Lieke. Doortje is from the north, where Dutch is more prevalent. Lieke’s name means “angelic,” which fits her wonderfully. She has Autism, which was not named or fully understood back then and often lumped in with psychopathy, schizophrenia, or other conditions. (Its first usage in the modern sense was in 1938, when Hans Asperger of the Vienna University Hospital used “autistic psychopaths” in a lecture about the condition we now know as Asperger Syndrome. Many of the children diagnosed with the condition were later killed by Nazis.) Another not-so-fun-fact: Martin Luther called an autistic boy “a soulless mass of flesh possessed by the devil” and recommended he be suffocated. So, yay for Science over Church, and fuck Nazis.
I am ghostwriting for a lady with high-functioning autism, in order to bring to light the fact that women on the autistic spectrum often go misdiagnosed. (She was not diagnosed until her 40s.) While we were in the middle of discussing things, she paused and blurted out, “I think you have this too.” Apparently, little things I do convinced her that I also have Asperger’s: trouble keeping eye contact, unconscious finger tapping, social anxiety, OCD, bipolarism, all of which she was also misdiagnosed with, and all which could be explained by being on the high-functioning end of the autistic spectrum. (Some of my school friends were later diagnosed with Asperger’s, so maybe we all unconsciously flocked together since making friends was weird and hard for us.) Anyway, this is my way of bringing some neurodiversity into the story—something direly lacking in literature—as well as showing a juxtaposition between how a loving family raises a child with special needs, versus how Nazis saw such people.

Nazis and People With Disabilities
In the ideal Aryan “master race,” people with disabilities simply had no place. They couldn’t! How could a perfect Master Race ever produce a child who was mentally or physically inferior? Such children must be genetically impure, and that meant they could not be allowed to breed more impure deformities into Aryan society.
People with disabilities were . As early as 1933, just after rising to power, the Nazis passed the , more commonly referred to as the Sterilization Law, which named nine disabilities and forced anyone with them to be sterilized: congenital mental deficiency (which included Down Syndrome and Autism), schizophrenia, “circular lunacy” (manic-depressive or bipolar disease), hereditary epilepsy, hereditary St. Vitus’ Dance (Huntington’s Chorea), hereditary blindness or deafness, severe hereditary deformities, and chronic alcoholism.
The law was later adjusted to include “Rhineland bastards” (children of mixed race) and “asocial elements” (Asperger’s, social anxiety disorder, depression, etc.) Jews, Roma, and homosexuals were sometimes sterilized under this law. (In my story, this was the law that forced Levi to be sterilized.)
Doctors who did not report a “genetically inferior” person to one of the 200 could be arrested, so many doctors erred on the side of caution and reported people they only suspected had a condition. Some women with hormonal imbalances that were misdiagnosed as schizophrenia were forced to be sterilized.
As a “genetically impure” person, they were not only sterilized, but also banned from marrying. Married Aryan women who had a deformed or developmentally challenged child were accused of infidelity, since no pure Aryan man who have sired a genetically inferior child. Children of people with a hereditary condition could also be sterilized, even if they showed no signs of the condition, since it was believed they still carried those genetic impurities.
Germany claimed they were inspired by eugenics programs in America, particularly California and their compulsory sterilization laws that led to tens of thousands of sterilizations in prisons and mental institutes throughout the state. Globally, eugenicists praised Germany for writing such a “conservative, sympathetic, and intelligent” law. Yes, most of the world actually approved of this idea, because the idea of eugenics was, and still is, highly favorable to many people.
By the end of the Nazi regime, over 400,000 people were sterilized against their will. Men were given vasectomies, but women were subjected to tubal ligation, an invasive procedure that resulted in the deaths of hundreds of women. If a “genetically diseased” woman got pregnant before her sterilization, she was forced to have an abortion, no matter how far along the pregnancy was.
People with disabilities were described in Nazi propaganda as “life only as a burden.” There was no sympathy afforded to them. They were viewed as soulless, empty shells, “useless” to society, a threat to Aryan genetic purity, and, ultimately, unworthy of life.
And Hitler agreed … they were better off dead!
In 1939, Hitler which empowered physicians to grant a “mercy kill” to incurable patients. Under his euthanasia program known as , mental asylums, nursing homes, government and church-run sanatoriums, and other institutes were purged. Even people who had already been sterilized were “euthanized.”
At first, doctors and nurses were encouraged to simply neglect patients, allowing them to starve to death. Some doctors felt that a lethal injection was more merciful, others experimented with which gas worked best. Eventually, gas was seen as the quickest, cheapest, and most effective way of delivering a “mercy kill” to the most asylum patients as possible. Gas chambers were built, medical “consultants” from the Nazi Party would be sent to asylums to decide which patients were incurable, and load them onto buses to the gas chambers.
There were public protests, especially by Catholics, so in 1941, Hitler officially ended the euthanasia program. Heinrich Himmler stated, “If Operation T-4 had been entrusted to the SS, things would have happened differently, because when the Führer entrusts us with a job, we know how to deal with it correctly, without causing useless uproar among the people.”
Himmler took over the T-4 personnel and facilities to rid the Jewish concentration camps of an overflow of prisoners. Upcoming psychologists would be asked to go through a prison camp to diagnose “asocial” prisoners, being assured their work would have great scientific importance. Prisoners were told that those selected were being allowed to stay in a “rest home” due to their medical conditions. In reality, merely disagreeing with Hitler was enough to be deemed insane or asocial, and rather than a sanitarium, thousands of elderly, disabled, and people with mental health issues were sent to the T-4 gas chambers, the first mass slaughter of concentration camp prisoners. These gas chambers became the models used in future execution camps like Auschwitz.
Although no longer state sponsored, many doctors continued with the euthanasia programs, but now without even a government official to decide who could live or die. The German doctors who were left (after better doctors fled the country or were imprisoned) were the most staunch supporters of the Nazi agenda. They thoroughly believed the “science” of eugenics, and believed that ridding the Aryans of defective specimens would strengthen the race overall. Based on their own judgment, doctors could deem a person “unfit for life.”
At this point, children were especially targeted. Any child who was developmentally behind might be diagnosed as mentally retarded or having schizophrenia, which at the time covered a massive range of mental health conditions. Doctors felt it was their duty to weed out weak children from the strong. Many doctors targeted any child who required extensive pediatric care, while some felt the slightest birth defect was enough reason to doom a child to a lethal injection, lest they be a “useless eater” taking up resources meant for strong, healthy Aryan children.
From 1939 to 1945, between 200,000 and 250,000 people with disabilities were killed under Operation T-4 and other “euthanasia” programs.
- https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/nazi-persecution-of-the-mentally-and-physically-disabled
- https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/the-biological-state-nazi-racial-hygiene-1933-1939
- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Law_for_the_Prevention_of_Hereditarily_Diseased_Offspring
- https://remember.org/witness/wit-vic-med
- 24
- 25
- 26
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Dangerous Territory