2. Ralph
May 11, 2024 at 10:55 AM
The alarm clock woke me up with its loud ringing. I fumbled for it with my hand and turned off the hell machine. The time is 7.30. Sighing, I went to the bathroom without even making the bed. I was standing in front of the mirror in the early morning, examining myself. An eighteen-year-old guy with beautiful gray eyes, a straight pointed nose and straw-colored hair was looking at me. The girls were delighted with this man, that is, with me. Most of them dreamed of dragging me into bed and becoming a lover, maybe even a faithful friend, but in vain. It was limited to a light flirtation and a couple of smiles. I was absolutely not interested in it. I was a member of the Hitler-Jugend, and I had completely different goals. I turned on the radio, where Hitler's speech was broadcast, and made myself scrambled eggs. My father hasn't yet returned from Berlin, as evidenced by the empty coat hanger hanging on the closet. He was a stern, iron man. He was Ober-Einsatzleiter However, for some reason he declined my offer to study at NAPOLA. Every day I came to the shooting range with my peers and younger children. It is an important part of life to learn how to fight and defend your honor and the honor of the country. Germany needed strong and persistent soldiers. It was a powerful and trained army that was able to maintain our influence among other countries and fight back on the Russian front.
𝕰𝖎𝖓 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖐, 𝖊𝖎𝖓 𝕽𝖊𝖎𝖈𝖍, 𝖊𝖎𝖓 𝕱𝖚𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖗– the board in front of me, where the words that every person in the NSDAP knew were written in white on black. Perhaps I will also become a member of the party and take up the position of Gauleiter, maybe even Reichsleiter. But there's a very long way to go before that. Leaving thoughts about the future for later, I decided to walk around the city before going to a meeting with the Hitler youth. I put on my uniform and went outside. There were not many people, most were still asleep, only in some places a tired worker could be seen returning from the factory. Three and a half hours later, walking down a wide street and riding my bike, I saw a diner where I sometimes had a snack after a day's work. There were a few men smoking and a girl about my age.
She was sitting there, at some flimsy table, staring in front of me, holding a glass of coffee. I couldn't help but notice how graceful and graceful the shape of her body was.
A beautiful face with a straight nose and slightly sad brown eyes, like the crust from a burnt pie. Perfect breasts that the fabric of the black jacket couldn't hide. They weren't too big or too small, just right. A perfect waist.
Her long, slender legs, shod in heeled shoes, were concealed by a black cotton skirt up to her knees.
The men sitting next to her cast glances at her, whispering, full of desire and lust. Yes, the girl was beautiful as hell, I can't argue with that. I froze and stared at her. The girl turned and looked right at me, as if she sensed I was watching her. I felt like the same smoking man who looked at her like a cat at a mouse and hurried away, feeling like a complete idiot.
I arrived at the meeting place a little before the appointed time and I wasn't alone. My buddy Bruno was standing leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette with his hands in his pockets. Tall, muscular, almost two meters tall, dark-haired and green-eyed Bruno Dilley was also popular among the fair sex. And he succeeded in this. Often he could be seen in some cafe in the company of a girl.
— Hey, Ralph, great! Want a cigarette?
I didn't say no. Taking a drag, I looked at the clearing where we were to spend almost the whole day in exercises. A while later, Bruno interrupted our silence.
— Today, I'm walking down the street and I see a girl. It's the first time I've seen one in our town. She's definitely not Aryan, her facial proportions aren't right. — I'm wary, but she's not Jewish either.
Bruno described her appearance admiringly.
— ...And her ass is top-notch! Fuck, no one else has an ass like that. I wish you could see it. Or wouldn't the Perfect Soldier allow it?
I smirked. Perfect Soldier was my nickname, for I was the best among our group in all disciplines. Yes, it was the stranger who was sitting at the table surrounded by men. Naturally, she didn't go unnoticed by Dillia. And Bruno was wrong about not paying attention to her. But our conversation came to an end when the chief among us arrived, and the teaching began, which lasted until six o'clock in the evening. Tired, I rode my bicycle through the city, cursing at the weather. The spring of 1943, i.e. the end of April, was cold. You couldn't get home warm in a simple shirt and pants. I felt that my fingers and toes were numb, and I dreamed of getting home as soon as possible. In my dreams of warmth, I didn't notice when I lost control and crashed into something, or someone. I managed to stay on my feet, but I heard a frightened cry under the bike.
— What are you doing under the wheels? Keep your eyes on the road, asshole! — I shouted indignantly, but hurriedly removed the bike from the person.
And I was pleasantly surprised to see the girl from the cafe lying on the ground. With horror remembering what I said a second ago, helped her up, feeling awkward.
— I'm sorry, I...I didn't notice you. Let me help you.
She stood up and gracefully dusted off her black jacket and skirt, giving me a slightly angry look.
— That's all right. I'd have run over you in the dark, too, so be careful from now on.
And she walked on down the street, her heels clacking, while I stood there like a fool with my bike at my feet. Finally I decided to follow her and find out where she lived. As it turned out later, she lived in apartment building number 5 on Ottostraße. I hope this girl didn't notice me. Satisfied and chilled I went home in anticipation of a warm bath.
My father was already home. His tunic was hanging on the rack, boots were at the door. In a simple white shirt and pants, he looked less menacing than usual.
— Hello, Ralph. How's it going?
— I'm fine, Father. My chef called me the best shot in the group today.
— I'm pleased with you, son. And I think Mom would be proud of you, too.
With these words he looked at the dresser, where there was a picture of my mother, who had died in childbirth. I didn't know her, so I didn't grieve so much, but as a child, seeing my peers walking hand in hand with their mothers, walking with them in the park, I was filled with sadness and envy that I was deprived of that. My father tried his best to replace her, walking with me, entertaining me, but it wasn't the same. He had loved me before and probably loved me now too, but there was no such strong affection between us now, only respect. He was often away from home and left me to my own devices. I was used to it.
— Shall we have dinner together? — Trying to bond.
— Pa, I'd love to, but it was cold outside, I'm going to take a bath.
With those words, I turned around and left the room. Sighing with pleasure, I lay down in the hot water, letting myself relax. Shooting, military training, and the Perfect Soldier were all in the background, giving way to mundane thoughts. I'd have to chase that girl home tomorrow and ask her what her name was. Just maybe I'll get to meet her.
Music played softly in the living room as my father began to fill out paperwork. He always did something with music, it calmed him down.
Sleep rolled over my eyelids, and I fell asleep.
