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“Well, hurry up, Fritz, or do you want to be late again? I can already hear your friends coming down the street. Do you have to keep asking for trouble?”
“Oh, Mother. What can I do about it? After all, I only left my father's shop five minutes ago. You know that Friday afternoons are always the busiest!” Fritz replied to his mother, who had actually just come out of his father's vegetable store.
She was always grumbling – even though she was right. The last time he was late, he was assigned latrine cleaning duty at the Volksheim, and he had to expect the same this Friday evening. He quickly slipped into his shorts, pulled on his shirt, washed his face, which had blushed from the heat, and combed his blond hair into a parting before he reached for his drum and hurried out into the street. His mother was right, and he could already hear his comrades, and as he ran out of the house, they were already turning the corner.
As always, a good half of the residents of Bornitzstraße in Berlin-Lichtenberg had rushed out of their houses to watch the march, which suited Fritz very well: he was able to hide behind fat Ulf, who had his butcher's shop near his father's business, and eventually join the formation unnoticed.
“Late again!” Lars hissed at him when Fritz hadn't managed to join the formation unnoticed after all. They had kept his place free – after all, they paid attention to discipline. Since Fritz was an enthusiastic drummer, he had quickly found the right beat to accompany the singers marching behind the drummers. They met for such marches at least once a month, which Fritz rather enjoyed: a lot of people watched and now and then they also gave small gifts, such as chocolate or pictures of important party members. Girls waved at them and sometimes one of them broke out of the crowd to give the boys flowers or a shy kiss on the cheek. Marching in step, singing and drumming, they went through the entire district.
Fritz had joined the Hitler Youth two and a half years ago, on his fourteenth birthday, almost the same day that he had started an apprenticeship as a salesman in his father's shop. It was his father who more or less ordered him to join the Hitler Youth, because after all, 'everyone was doing it and it would be a shame if the son of a party member didn't do it'. “You'll learn for life there!” or “You'll be raised to be a real German there!” were the words of his father, a veteran of the First World War. From an early age, Friedrich therefore also realized what had gone wrong in that war and, above all, who was to blame for the defeat. “Jews and communists,” his father always said, “you must never trust them! They brought all this on us. The poverty, the unemployment! Never forget that!”
When Fritz was born on January 1, 1923, the entire country was suffering from bitter poverty. Although the war had ended five years earlier, Germany still had not recovered from its aftermath. The consequences of paying war reparations to the victorious powers, hunger and high unemployment created a rather bleak situation in Germany at the time of Fritz's birth.
He was the first child of Friedrich and Anna Lenke, who were to be followed by three more, Anna, Max and Rosa. It took a while for the country to gradually recover before the global economic crisis in 1929 rocked it to the core again. By this time, Fritz had also heard several times from a man in Austria who wanted to rebuild Germany: Adolf Hitler. Fritz's father was a supporter from the very beginning, so to speak, and also registered as a party member, although the crisis did not hit him and his family too hard: people have always needed food! And he got his vegetables from everywhere – even in these difficult times. But the speeches of the man from Braunau seemed to give him – and many others – the courage to face life again, and from an early age he was keen to win over his family to the new politics as well.
Fritz marched through the streets, beating time on his drum. He would have liked to look at the faces of the people at the side of the road, but that wasn't allowed. You had to look straight ahead and you couldn't be distracted by anything or anyone. Peter marched in front of him, also beating his drum in time. He was a slight boy, about the same age as Fritz, and had caught his eye on his very first day in the HJ: although he was a genuine German according to the 'Aryan certificate' (without which one could not be accepted into the HJ), with his tanned skin and dark hair he could easily have passed as a southerner. Besides, Fritz had sensed from the beginning that there was something mysterious about him. However, he hadn't spoken to him much, as he had only recently moved to Berlin from Leipzig with his family.
“Look up,” Lars hissed again next to him, and Fritz jumped as he suddenly realized that he had only been looking at Peter's backside for the last few minutes. He immediately felt his face redden, but it wasn't really noticeable: the drumming was exhausting and, after all, it was July. It was mercilessly hot. Fritz did as Lars had instructed him: he looked up. Swastika flags were everywhere – every house, every shop was decorated with them.
Fritz tried to distract himself from his thoughts; he was still hot. “Hopefully Lars didn't see where I was looking,” he thought to himself, because covetous glances like his were also forbidden in Germany. Besides, he was frightened by them himself, especially when he had Peter's back in his field of vision again a little later.
“Jews! Communists! Gypsies! Homosexuals! Soon we will put a stop to this rabble! Then they will all get what they deserve!” he recalled his father's words again, as he warmly dressed him and his siblings one evening and led them out into the street. ‘Now is our time, especially yours, Fritz! You can all be glad to be part of this great cause from the very beginning,’ he said solemnly. Fritz still remembered that bitterly cold evening in January well: It was a few weeks after his 10th birthday and there was a strange mood in the air. People with torches and flags were everywhere, singing and cheering. The whole family went to the Brandenburg Gate, where thousands of other people had gathered who also wanted to follow this procession or take part in it themselves. Fritz held his six-year-old brother by the hand as he watched the goings-on around him. His child's eyes beamed at what he saw: everything was brightly lit by the fire and everyone seemed so happy to him. At that time, he did not yet know what would follow and that he, too, was a 'racial alien'.
It was the evening of January 30, 1933, and Adolf Hitler had just been appointed Reich Chancellor.
“Lenke, Kakoschke! Step forward!” bellowed the voice of the horde leader Lutz, when the march-up was over and they had lined up again in front of the Volksheim. ”The others: dismissed. Sieg, Heil!”
“Sieg, Heil!” the other boys roared in chorus and marched off. Some of them gave the two boys who had been assigned to the penalty service angry looks before they stood alone in front of Lutz. Only now did Fritz see that ‘Kakoschke’ meant Peter, who was standing a few meters away from him, just as motionless as he was.
“Well, come with me then,” said Lutz, who now looked a little friendlier and gestured for them to follow him. Lutz liked Fritz because his sister Lena had been courting him for quite some time and he already imagined the two of them as a German ‘showcase couple’. Lena and Lutz were the children of master butcher Ulf, who had his shop just a few doors down from the Lenkes. Lutz was 19 and about to join the SS, while 15-year-old Lena was already preparing for her role as a housewife in the BDM (League of German Girls). She wanted to get married as quickly as possible and have lots of children, as was her duty. And the chosen one was supposed to be Fritz! With him she wanted to 'give birth to children for the Führer', as he demanded of German women. Fritz also knew about his duties and he liked Lena, but he had known her since she was a little girl and she was nothing more than a good friend. He was anything but in love with her...
With these thoughts, he looked over at Peter again – both had taken a seat in Lutz's small room, which was right next to the large hall of the Volksheim, and waited for their punishment. Fritz played nervously with the drumsticks of his drum, while Peter fixed the picture of the Führer on the wall.
Lutz loved to take advantage of his position and initially made the two wait while he smoked a cigarette outside.
“And why are you here?” Fritz asked Peter, who was now looking at the floor as if he were looking for something.
“I was late. But at least I was more punctual than you! Man, Lutz screamed when we had to leave without you!”
“Great, he'll give me a good telling-off in a minute! It's not the first time I've been late.”
“Oh, don't talk nonsense – everyone knows that you're almost his brother-in-law, so to speak. Well, because you're going out with his sister. He'll be stricter with me,” Peter said.
Now Fritz looked down in embarrassment. How did he know so much about his ‘relationship’ with Lutz's sister? Just as he was about to ask, Lutz came back from his smoke break.
“Punctuality!” he began to speak in a teacherly manner, ”Punctuality and discipline are of the utmost importance in the new Germany. How often have I told you that, Fritz Lenke? And you, Kakoschke? Do you also think you have to be late? This isn't Leipzig – this is the capital, the city of our Fuhrer!” He gesticulated wildly, constantly pointing to the picture of Hitler behind him, and repeatedly said how well everyone was doing and how happy they could be to live in a reinvigorated Germany.
“Well, since it was your first time, Kakoschke, you're cleaning the toilets here today. Lenke, you're polishing the entire hall! Dismissed!”
As Peter trotted off towards the toilets, Lutz Fritz turned to him and his voice suddenly became friendlier. “Lena was wondering when you'd have time to take her for a walk again. She's always talking about you, she's always asking me about you. Why don't you invite her to dance? Tomorrow is Saturday anyway, take her out!” he winked and pushed the bucket and mop into his hand. ‘Lock up here afterwards and throw me the key through the door slit, agreed?’ Lutz pushed the key of the Volksheim into his hand and disappeared outside.
Fritz filled his bucket with water, feeling disgruntled, while he could already hear Peter scrubbing the toilets. “Dancing with Lena,” Fritz thought to himself as he guided the cloth at the end of the pole through the hall, “I don't feel like that at all!” He was mopping the floor of the hall more or less well when he suddenly noticed that there was no longer any cleaning noise coming from the toilets. “He's not just going to leave without me, is he?” he thought to himself and decided to check on the situation.
Quietly, he crept up to the toilet and opened the door a crack. What he saw made his heart beat faster: Peter was standing in front of a urinal with his trousers down, masturbating, and not noticing Fritz. Fritz was seized with a sudden urge and in a matter of seconds he had an erection too, which, strangely enough, didn't even bother him at the time. He had never seen another boy's erection before and he liked what he saw. Of course, he also masturbated frequently, and he suspected that his 12-year-old brother Max did too – but of course such things were never discussed. Talking about sexuality was taboo, masturbation was frowned upon!
Fritz leaned against the wall in front of the toilet, his pulse pounding, his stiff member pressing against his trousers from the inside so that it almost hurt. He reached into his trousers to straighten it out and began – without thinking much about it – to jerk off as well.
“Come in!” he suddenly heard Peter say.
Fritz froze in shock! Had he noticed him? Had he perhaps left the door unlocked on purpose? Fritz took his hand out of his trousers and wanted to go back into the hall, but stumbled over the water bucket and fell flat on his face.
“Ow! Shit!” he cursed, holding his head, which immediately began to hurt.
“That's going to be a nice lump,“ said Peter, grinning, who was suddenly standing in front of him. When Fritz sat up, he stole a glance at Peter's crotch and could tell from the bulge that Peter hadn't finished his ‘business’ yet.
“Come on, smoke break!” said Peter, and they were already outside.
“Here!“ he indicated and held out a Salem brand cigarette without a filter to Fritz. Both smoked with relish and remained silent.
“Do you do this often?” Fritz finally asked with a nervous voice.
“Of course,” Peter replied with a laugh, ”don't you?”
“Yes, but... a German boy shouldn't do that,” he said, immediately realizing that he was only saying what he heard everywhere and that it wasn't really his own opinion.
“Oh, nonsense. It's incredibly relaxing. And besides, everyone does it!”
“But the party...”
“Well, in the Leipzig Hitler Youth, almost everyone did it, some even together. You just can't get caught,“ Peter interrupted him.
“And why did you want me to come in?” Fritz asked again, eagerly awaiting Peter's reply.
Peter spoke very softly now. “I realized that it was you behind the door. And from your shadow, I could see that you were... well, doing it too...” He scratched his head embarrassedly and continued, ”And I couldn't help but notice that you've been watching me all day. In fact, it seems like you've been watching me since I arrived in Berlin.”
“Oh, you're just imagining things,” Fritz dismissed the whole thing as nonsense, stubbed out his cigarette and went back into the hall. While he refilled the bucket with water – he had spilled the other one when he fell – he thought about what he had just said. Damn, so Peter had noticed. In fact, he had been watching him since he moved to Berlin a few months ago. He had to admit to himself that he liked the boy, that he liked him very much. Once again, his heart pounded in his throat as a huge fear spread within him. That wouldn't do. That couldn't be. And besides, it was forbidden.
“Let me help you, I'm done with the toilets,” he suddenly heard Peter say next to him. His voice sounded reassuring, as if he had read Fritz's thoughts. Both silently wiped the floor as Peter began to speak again: “Sorry for confusing you before. It's just that it really struck me. Just as you struck me right away. I mean that you seem different from most of the others here...”
“What do you mean? What are most of them like?“ Fritz wanted to know.
Peter grabbed an empty bucket and put it on his head, while he stalked around in an exaggerated, jerky manner and shouted party slogans.
“Viiiictory! Heil!” he mockingly dragged out.
Fritz didn't really know what to make of it when Peter took the bucket off again. “Let's face it, most of them just shout around without thinking. When you march and drum, you seem to be in a completely different place. At least in your thoughts. So do I!”
“Are you saying you don't like the HJ? It's great that there is something for us: the marches, the cross-country runs, the camps. You're always with other guys and have a lot of fun. Besides, it builds character, says my father.”
“Yes, of course,” Peter replied, and Fritz could see that he was not entirely happy with what he had just told him about the HJ.
After finishing their 'service', the two cleaned the buckets, locked up and walked through the slowly darkening streets. Fritz noticed that Peter had become strangely quiet. “Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that you made jokes about the party,” he tried to reassure him. But it didn't help. Peter said a curt goodbye to him and disappeared into an alley. Fritz was alone and worried again – his thoughts wandered back to the incident in the toilet, when he suddenly stopped in front of an empty shop. Since there was no one else around, he brushed aside the dust on the shop window and tried to see inside, but in the darkness he could only make out a few shoes lying around.
When he first visited Mr. Böhmer's shoemaker's shop, Fritz must have been just four years old. His father had a pair of leather shoes made for him to measure – a luxury in those days, which he later paid for with three kilos of potatoes, since money had practically no value in those times. Mr. Böhmer was a rather small man with a curly beard, like the old Kaiser Wilhelm had had. He remembered the smell of the leather, the beard and the friendliness of Mr. Böhmer. Everyone in the neighborhood liked him; he was always friendly, often gave the children a piece of chocolate, and was always polite and courteous. He also often bought a round at the Brunner Inn – despite his small stature, he was also quite a drinker. Nobody seemed to mind that he had never married. At least that was the case before Hitler came to power. After that, nasty rumors about Mr. Böhmer began to spread. Ulf, the butcher and Lena and Lutz's father, claimed to have seen him making a delivery in Kreuzberg and then entering a seedy establishment frequented only by men. In the end, everyone claimed to have always known that Böhmer was one of these boyfriends – precisely because he had never married. Boyfriends – that was what they called homosexuals back then, and Mr. Lenke had explained to his son Fritz early on that this was not a good thing: every man needed a woman, and when a man went to bed with a man, it was not only a sin, but also subversive and perverse. And such people had no right to exist in the 1000-year Reich.
More and more people claimed to have seen Böhmer going into various bars and when he actually brought a man home one evening, it was the opportunity that Ulf seemed to have been waiting for: just a few minutes later, the Gestapo arrived at Böhmer's place. “Bed check!”
When he returned the next day, his face was covered with bruises. His nose seemed broken and it looked as if he had aged 20 years in just one night. “Look at him, the pervert!” fathers warned their sons. His shop was shunned and people gave him a wide berth when they met him on the street.
He eventually disappeared completely.
When Fritz asked his father about Böhmer, he looked up from his newspaper and said, “Re-education in Oranienburg!” Fritz didn't ask any further – he had already heard about such camps where people who didn't fit the German stereotype were locked up.
In any case, Fritz never saw the nice cobbler with the funny beard again.
“He got what he deserved,“ he suddenly heard a voice behind him, which abruptly tore him out of his thoughts.
“What?” He said in surprise, recognizing Lena in front of him.
“Well, Böhmer, the one with men... you know...” she resisted even mentioning the word homosexual.
“Mhm,“ Fritz just grumbled briefly, hoping she wouldn't ask him what he was doing in front of Böhmer's shop window at this time of night.
“Lutz told me that you had to scrub the floor,” Lena suddenly laughed, “and so I decided to meet you halfway. Will you walk me home?”
“Of course,” replied Fritz, who was still staring at her in disbelief. Well, at least she hadn't asked him any more questions.
She took his hand and they walked home together. He felt extremely uncomfortable and found himself repeatedly not listening to Lena at all, but constantly thinking about Peter.
“I asked you if you already had plans tomorrow night,“ Lena pulled him out of his thoughts again.
“Oh, what? No, I don't!”
“Brunner is organizing a dance tomorrow night. Half of Lichtenberg will be there and I would like to go with you, so will you pick me up?”
“Mhm,” he grumbled again.
“A little more enthusiasm, please,” Lena laughed again and gave him a kiss on the cheek, because they had already arrived in front of her parents' house.
Fritz gave her the key of the Volksheim, which he had received from Lutz, and decided to kiss her on the mouth. Lena took advantage of this and immediately pushed her tongue into his mouth while she clawed her fingers into his back. It hurt and Fritz didn't like the kiss at all either – everything in him resisted it and again he saw Peter's face in front of him. Startled by his thoughts, he almost pushed Lena away, but she didn't even notice: unlike him, she seemed to have liked the kiss.
When Fritz finally came home, his father was still sitting in the kitchen, doing the day's accounts.
“Well, did you still go out on the town with Lena?” he whispered to him and winked.
“Yes, I brought her home. Good night, father. See you in the morning!” Fritz replied and went to his room, which he shared with his brother Max. Max was already asleep and Fritz watched him for a while. Although he loved him dearly, he also envied him – he was not yet expected to go out with girls.
After a while, he lay down in bed as well and, after finally putting his gloomy thoughts aside, he did what he had wanted to do at the Volksheim earlier that evening: he jerked off – and every thought revolved around Peter. “Oh, if only I had gone to the bathroom with him,” he sighed, and fell asleep soon after.
Even though it was a Saturday, Fritz had to get up early – his father's vegetable shop was open until noon on Saturdays – and there was always a lot going on. Housewives shopped for the weekend as if there were no tomorrow, and on days like that Fritz often didn't even have time to pee, let alone smoke a cigarette. Often there was so much to do that even his mother and sister Anna had to help out, while a neighbor took care of little Rosa.
“Is it going to be just us today?” he heard Lena's voice at around 10 a.m., just as Fritz was putting tomatoes into a bag for Mrs. Winkler. She had also turned up at the store to get potatoes for her family.
“What? Oh, hello Lena!“ he replied, surprised on the one hand, but annoyed on the other, because he had hoped she had forgotten about the dance.
“So, when are you coming to pick me up?”
“Is seven o'clock in the evening okay?” he asked hesitantly, while Mrs. Winkler complained that she didn't want to buy tomatoes for all of Germany – the bag was already overflowing.
“Let him, Mrs. Winkler,” his father came to his aid, ‘Can't you see that the boy is asking a girl to dance?’ Fritz noticed the pride in his father's voice, but inside he was fighting against this dance evening. He didn't want to go, but now there was no turning back – he would have to go there with Lena for better or for worse.
On his free Saturday afternoons, Fritz usually did something with his younger brother: either they played soccer or they just ran around, sometimes they also went to the lake, but they didn't feel like it that day because it was simply too hot for them, even for the journey there. So Friedrich decided to buy Max an ice cream. They had just sat down with their ice-cream sundaes in the café's outdoor dining area when, suddenly, out of nowhere, Peter appeared.
“May I?” he asked shyly and sat down next to the two of them without waiting for an answer.
“Yes, sure!“ Fritz replied, inwardly as pleased as punch that Peter had come and even more that he seemed to be in such a great mood. He seemed too sad the previous evening, but now everything seemed to be fine again.
“This is my brother Max. Max, Peter!” he introduced them.
Max, a well-educated boy like Fritz, shook his hand.
The three of them chatted about this and that when Max suddenly surprised Fritz with a question.
“How do you know when you're in love?” he wanted to know.
Fritz was shocked and, strangely enough, Peter's head also turned bright red.
“Well, you're in love with Lena. How does it feel?”
Fritz felt sick. He wasn't in love with Lena, but apparently the whole family thought he was. Should he lie to his brother? And what would Peter think, although why was he worrying about it again? Shouldn't he care what another guy thought about it?
“Well, I have to go again,” said Peter at that very moment, and Fritz could see that his good mood had gone again. Peter got up, swung himself onto his bike and drove off. ‘Thanks, little brother,’ he thought angrily, because he might have driven him away with his statement. But didn't Peter know about him and Lena anyway? So why the sudden excitement?
“Strange boy,“ Max blurted out, while Fritz looked after him. ‘No, he's all right. He hasn't lived here long,’ Fritz tried to distract Max from his previous question.
“So, how does it feel to be in love?” the little one wanted to know again.
“Why do you want to know? You're much too young for that!” Again, he wanted to dismiss the annoying question and turned his attention back to his ice cream sundae.
“Are you crazy? I'm 12 and there's this girl at school, Lotte. Whenever I see her, I get all hot and I just talk more nonsense. Is that infatuation?”
“Yes, that's probably what it feels like. You get shaky knees, you get hot and you can't think of anything but that person. Day and night!“ As he spoke, he looked in the direction Peter had been riding a few moments earlier.
“Like you and Lena?” Max wanted to know again, grinning mischievously.
“Yes, like me and Lena,” Fritz lied, because the truth was that he had just described the feelings he had for Peter – he had to admit that to himself, for better or for worse.
“Great, then you'll probably have children soon,” Max was happy for his brother.
Fritz felt incredibly shabby – not only because he had lied to his brother, but also because of the feelings he had for Peter. He would have liked to have cried, but he didn't want to unsettle his brother. And besides, German boys didn't cry! Max was still too young to notice the confusion of his older brother, whom he admired like no other person: he smoked, had a girlfriend and was in the Hitler Youth! He wanted all of that too, and as soon as possible!
“You can't take a girl dancing without taking her flowers,” Mrs. Lenke reprimanded her eldest. ‘Here, give her this bouquet!’ she said, stroking his blond hair lovingly. ‘Stop it,’ Mr. Lenke reprimanded his wife. ‘He's not a little kid anymore. Look at him,’ he continued proudly, ”isn't he a real German? Blond, blue-eyed, tall and slender – just as our Fuhrer envisions his youth! Lena is really lucky to get a strapping lad like you!”
Fritz swallowed as he looked at himself in the mirror: was the boy he saw before him really a real German? In terms of appearance, he probably met the Führer's expectations, but on the inside? Everyone expected him to take Lena out and possibly marry her as soon as possible. But could he do that? Did he want to? The burden on his shoulders seemed to weigh tons when he left the house. He could have the evening over with already. At least he was not completely alone, because the entire family (except for five-year-old Rosa, who had been placed with the neighbor) had dressed up and was also on the way to the Brunner inn. After all, you had to be seen there.
Shortly before seven, Fritz was standing in front of the Wuttkes' house, knocking on the door to pick up Lena. Lutz opened the door and kindly invited him in.
“Lena is ready, but it will take a while for our father,” Lutz said, pushing Fritz into the kitchen, where fat Ulf was standing in front of the mirror, pinning some kind of badge to his collar.
“Well, lad?“ he said without taking his eyes off his reflection. ‘Don't stand around stiffly. Sit down. Lutz, bring him a beer!’ he demanded of his son, who did as he was told.
“Who am I?” Fritz finally heard, and two hands covered his eyes from behind.
“Well, Lena!” he replied briefly, took her hands away, turned around and kissed her shyly on both cheeks. He was so tense that it didn't even occur to him to say the name of someone else just for the fun of it. ‘Here, flowers!’ Everything he said sounded nervous, short and staccato. He felt like he was in a play, only speaking his role, and that was actually what it was – Lena would soon realize it, and he somehow felt sorry for her. But did Lena realize it, or was she just pretending because she only saw what she wanted to see? She took the flowers from him, plucked out a lily, broke off the stem and pinned it to her blouse.
“How romantic, you know how to treat a German woman,” she said, kissing him briefly on the mouth before Lutz returned to the kitchen with the beer.
“Is your sister Anna coming to the dance, too?“ he wanted to know, while he opened the bottle and pushed it into Fritz's hand.
“Yes, my whole family has already left,” he said, taking a big gulp of beer, while Lena put the flowers in a vase and placed them next to a picture of Frau Wuttke, Lena and Lutz's mother. She had died three years earlier of influenza. Since then, the three of them had been living alone, not far from the Lenkes' house. Many doubted whether fat Ulf would ever find a wife again, since he could be quite rude sometimes and, what is more, was getting fatter and fatter thanks to their new prosperity. Lutz and Lena therefore had to take after their mother, because Fritz actually liked them both quite a bit – if only Lena didn't throw herself at him all the time.
A little later, Fritz arrived at Brunner's Inn with the Wuttkes, where all hell had already broken loose: a few older men, dressed in their old uniforms, were standing at the bar, clutching their huge beer mugs while talking and staring at the dance floor, which was already quite full. To the right of the dance floor was the band, playing German folk songs and encouraging some younger men to sing along. They must have been pretty drunk already – and it was only just after seven. “Truly disciplined,” thought Fritz, who was pushed in front of him towards the dance floor by Lena. A little later, Lena was already twirling around him – her plaited hair flew around and Fritz felt relatively silly, as he had the feeling that everyone could see how much he hated dancing.
He did smile once, though, when he spotted his brother in the crowd, standing quietly in a corner and looking at a girl standing about three meters away from him. That must be Lotte. Lutz was also already on the dance floor, holding Fritz's sister Anna in his arms – what a surprise.
And suddenly it flashed through his mind: Peter was also here, dancing with an 18-year-old girl. Fritz was so startled that he almost ran into him.
“Oh, good afternoon Fritz!” Peter shouted, because the music was quite loud, ”Are you coming to our table later?”
“Maybe!“ Fritz could only say, because Lena was already dragging him along again.
“Stop! I need a break!” he said to Lena.
“What? Already? They obviously don't teach you endurance!”
“Yes, yes. I'm just thirsty, and I want to check on my family.”
“All right. I'm coming with you!”
Great, that wasn't what he really wanted, to have Lena in tow all evening. Besides, it drove him crazy not knowing who this beautiful girl in Peter's arms was.
At his parents' table, Fritz was initially relieved because Lutz and his sister Anna were sitting next to them. Lena and Anna were pretty good friends, and a little later Fritz's hopes were fulfilled: the two of them were sitting next to each other and started chatting away. At least she left him alone for a short time. Since he didn't really feel like talking to Lutz either, and was really hot on top of that, he decided to go outside to have a smoke. However, he went into the backyard – he wanted to be alone for a while and didn't want to witness any drunks stumbling out of or into the inn. At least he had some peace and quiet back there.
The backyard was small and dark and it stank badly of leftover food – nevertheless, Fritz felt a little better for the first time in half an hour, probably also because the noise inside only reached the outside in a very muffled way. There were clearly too many people in the hall for him and the dancing with Lena must have seemed quite embarrassing to others.
He took a drag on his cigarette and stared into the night sky. The 'Westerwald Song' was playing inside when he suddenly noticed a figure next to him. It was Peter, who had followed him outside.
“You don't like the hustle and bustle in there either, do you?” he asked. Apparently he was not a big fan of German dance either.
“Mhm,“ Fritz replied curtly, without averting his gaze from the sky.
“Do you have a light?” Peter asked him. “I must have left my matches at the table.”
Fritz lit a match while Peter held his face towards him with the cigarette in his mouth. The small flame flickered and illuminated Peter's face, giving Fritz a brief moment to look at it. As already mentioned, he had short black hair, his facial skin was tanned and had – at least in Fritz's opinion – slight feminine features. His skin seemed quite soft and he would have liked to caress his face. But then the smoke from Peter's cigarette rose and he had to blow out the match.
“Thank you!“ he said as he took a deep drag and blew the smoke into the air.
“So you're really together with Lena!” he said hesitantly, and Fritz immediately noticed that it took him an effort to ask.
“Mhm,“ Friedrich lied, not really knowing the answer. He had already kissed her and they had danced together – that clearly meant that they were together. Or was it not the case?
“I thought it was just talk,” he said.
“So, what's your girlfriend's name?” Fritz wanted to know.
“I don't have one. The one I danced with is my sister Hertha,” Peter seemed to be telling the truth. ‘Wouldn't you like to come to our table?’ he repeated his previous question. ”You can take Lena with you! I want to introduce you to my parents. I haven't found any friends here besides you. I mean, I hope you want to be my friend...”
“Gladly,“ replied Fritz, who didn't dare look at Peter at that moment.
Both stubbed out their cigarettes and while Fritz was about to go back inside, Peter remained rooted to the spot, gazing into the night sky. His eyes sparkled and it almost seemed to Fritz as if there were tears in his eyes.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Do you ever get scared too? And you don't even know exactly what you're afraid of?” Fritz could actually feel a tremor in Peter's voice, as if he would burst into tears at any moment. But Peter controlled himself.
“What do you mean? What should we Germans be afraid of? Nobody can harm us!”
Peter shook his head. ”I don't mean that. Well, in a way maybe they can. Sometimes, sometimes I'm just afraid of ourselves. Of us Germans.”
“I think my brother was right when he said you were crazy today,” Fritz shook his head. He didn't want to admit to himself that Peter seemed to be afraid of the same things as he was. He, too, felt an all-consuming fear deep inside. So he stopped.
“Maybe it is me,“ and now it was unmistakable – Peter didn't let it show, but at that moment a single tear rolled down his face. He hastily wiped it away, feeling ashamed.
“Are you a friend or an enemy?” Peter wanted to know.
“What do you mean?“ replied Fritz, who felt rather uncomfortable.
“Friend or foe?” Peter suddenly shouted. “And stop stammering like that!”
“Friend!” Fritz shouted just as loudly, and a little later Peter fell into his arms. At first Fritz didn't really know how to react, but in the end he returned the embrace. Not only that – he liked it. What he didn't like was the fact that Peter was overcome by an endless sadness and was still crying quietly and barely audibly.
“I don't belong here. I don't fit into their system!” Peter finally spoke again in a clear voice. He broke free from the embrace and looked Fritz directly in the eye. ”Sorry... for the hug, I hope that didn't seem too effeminate to you, but somehow I needed it right now.”
Peter looked nervously towards the exit, but they were still alone. “I think I know what you mean,” he suddenly heard himself say. “Somehow I don't seem to be what the others want me to be either. I don't know which direction to go in either, or am allowed to go. And one more thing: I'm not really with Lena. She's a good friend of mine – but I'm not in love with her.” So, now it was out. Both remained silent and smoked another cigarette. They remained silent and each decided for himself not to tell the other the whole truth yet. They still knew each other too little for that, and besides, the fear of possible betrayal was too great. And anyway, you didn't just blurt out things like that. Finally, the two of them re-entered the hall.
The mood there was almost boiling: people were still dancing and most of the men were already very drunk. They sang songs and again and again people could be heard loudly praising the Fuhrer. A table had been reserved for members of the SS, who were also already quite drunk – Lutz had taken a seat at their table, hoping to be part of this group soon.
“This is my family,” said Peter at that moment, indicating to Fritz that he should come to his parents' table. Actually, Fritz should have gone back to Lena, but everything in him resisted it and besides, he was curious about Peter's parents. At the table, there were also his two sisters, Hertha, the girl he had danced with before, and Siegrid, who was five years younger than Peter. Peter's father was a relatively small man with a friendly face, and he immediately held out his hand to Fritz.
“Hello, Peter has already told me about your joint penance yesterday,” he smiled.
Fritz scratched the back of his head, grinning embarrassedly, and stammered a ‘Heil Hitler’ in greeting! ‘Please sit down,’ Peter's father continued, making room for the two boys in their Hitler Youth uniforms between him and his youngest daughter.
Peter's mother also shook his hand, but quickly left as she wanted to take Siegrid home. She was a bit larger than her husband and almost a full head taller. He liked them both immediately, even though they looked a bit strange standing next to each other.
“Well, I think,” Peter's father continued, after his wife had left, ‘the two gentlemen want to have a beer together in peace. So may I ask for a dance with my eldest?’ he asked his daughter to dance, who laughingly complied with this request.
When the two entered the dance floor, Peter and Fritz sat silently next to each other and initially only looked into each other's eyes. Both knew that they had been quite taken with each other and no words were needed. Besides, in those days you didn't just say 'I love you' to another guy. Even looking at each other could be interpreted by someone in this direction, and unfortunately there were plenty of self-appointed informers at that time.
“Well, it's definitely too loud and crowded for me here – there's no way we can talk in peace. But I've got a lot to say to you,” said Peter in a loud voice. ‘How about it? Just come to my place tomorrow,’ he continued, scribbling Fritz his address on a beer mat.
“Why not, tomorrow is Sunday anyway. Deal,“ replied Fritz, putting the beer mat in his pocket, but not without looking around to make sure that no one had noticed.
“There you are!” he finally heard Lena's surprised voice next to him. “Wouldn't you like to introduce me to your friend?”
Fritz jumped and he imagined that Lena had somehow emphasized the word 'friend' strangely – but he probably only saw or heard ghosts.
“Well, this is Peter. He recently moved here from Leipzig with his family. Peter, Lena!”
They shook hands and Fritz could see that Lena looked at Peter rather suspiciously.
“So you're the one who just left me sitting here,” she said, turning back to Fritz, no longer paying attention to Peter.
“Well, you were talking to my sister anyway, so I thought I'd just be in the way. Besides, I had something to discuss with Peter!”
“Really? What?”
Yes, what actually? “We were talking about the camp at the beginning of August,” Fritz remembered and was very pleased with this believable-sounding lie. Lena had meanwhile taken a seat – she had squeezed herself right between Peter and Fritz and snuggled up to Fritz, whom she gave an amorous look. “Let's get some fresh air, shall we?“ she asked, and without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Fritz's arm and stood up again.
“Let's go out the back,” she said, reaching for his hand.
Fritz almost felt sick. He looked back at Peter, who was sitting there and took a big gulp of beer from his jug. With a pleading look, he indicated that he didn't want to go with Lena voluntarily, but he couldn't tell if Peter had understood.
So a little later Fritz was standing in the backyard again, this time with Lena, who immediately pushed him against the wall and covered his neck with kisses. Peter pressed his hands convulsively against the wall behind him and let it happen. While Lena was 'working' on him, he looked around – on the floor he saw the cigarette butts that he and Peter had stubbed out there just a few moments before. He almost felt as if he could sense Peter's presence, because in some form or other it was true. Lena didn't seem to notice that Fritz was completely absent-minded at that moment and reached for his hand to position it on her shoulder. Finally, she let go of his neck and turned to his face. Just like the night before, she immediately stuck her tongue in Fritz's mouth, who was panting with exertion. Not only was it all going too fast for him, no, he didn't want any of it either – he would have liked to have pushed her away and walked home, but wouldn't she then suspect everything? So he played along and returned her kiss.
Just when he thought that was it, he suddenly felt Lena's hand on his crotch and instinctively pushed her away with a cry of surprise.
“Say, can't you get it up?” Lena said, disappointed and also angry because Fritz had pushed her away.
“Yes, but... I think... well... I think you're still too young for that,“ Fritz finally stammered.
“Are you crazy? I'm almost sixteen, so I'm old enough. Besides, it's my duty to give the Fuhrer children.” She tried again to approach Fritz, but when she wanted to kiss him, he turned his head to the side. He would have liked to tell her the truth at that moment, but he refrained – Lena seemed to be an upright National Socialist, who knows how she would have reacted if he had told her that he was in love with Peter. Again, it shot through his body like an electric shock: in love with Peter! How that sounded! His eyes had now filled with water and he dared not look at Lena.
“What's going on here?“ she finally asked. ‘Can't you or won't you?’ she continued to press the issue.
“Yes,” Fritz replied quietly. “But...”
“You don't have someone else, do you? Are you crying?” Lena now became quite loud and decided to end the conversation.
“You're a fine German!” she said, now really angry. She snorted something in his direction that sounded something like ‘impotent pig’, before hastily hurrying back into the hall. Fritz remained behind and now everything broke out of him. He stood there and cried. He loved Peter! And Lena? Did she suspect something? Would she tell her father, who had already betrayed the cobbler Böhmer? Fritz conjured up the most terrible images – after all, he knew about these camps that the Nazis had set up and where they took all the 'pests of the people'. The Jews. Political dissidents. Homosexuals – someone like him.
It took a while for Fritz to recover, but he still desperately wanted to go home. He entered the hall and realized that he must have been standing in the backyard for quite a while, because Peter and his family were no longer there and the hall had emptied quite a bit.
Lena's family had now taken a seat at his parents' table. Lutz was flirting heavily with Anna, while Lena didn't even look at him.
“I don't feel well. I think I'll go home,“ he lied.
“What?” his father exclaimed in astonishment, looking not only at him but also at Lena, who was staring into space. His father didn't seem to understand that there was apparently nothing going on between him and the butcher's daughter after all. “Let him be,” his mother said. “He must be tired from work. Oh Fritz, be a dear and take your brother with you. He's long overdue for bed. He's back there somewhere,” she said, gesturing across the room. ‘I'll be along soon too, after all, I still have to pick up Rosa,’ she said, who had left her at a neighbor's house.
“It's a deal. Good night,“ he said goodbye and a little later he had already spotted his brother, who had snuck into a corner with Lotte and was holding hands with her unabashedly.
“Hello Fritz,” he called to him, full of pride because he had managed to speak to Lotte. “This is my brother Fritz,” he introduced him to his girlfriend, no less proudly.
“We've been together since today,” he said when the two of them were on their way home a little later. ‘I even kissed her on the mouth, now I know what it feels like to be in love!’ The little one talked and talked and Fritz was quite happy about it: Since Max was so busy telling him about his great evening, he didn't even notice how bad his big brother was actually doing. He envied Max more and more – he already had a girlfriend, so why couldn't he be normal like everyone else?
Max had fallen asleep quickly and a little later, he murmured Lotte's name in his dream before falling asleep again after a deep sigh. Fritz lay awake in bed for what seemed like an eternity. He also heard his father come home, who must have been very drunk and knocked over a chair in the kitchen – followed by a lot of swearing, which in turn startled little Rosa, who immediately began to cry. Fritz was reassured by the little commotion, which at least momentarily broke the fear-filled silence that had surrounded him until then. After that, everything was quiet again and the fear settled on his shoulders like a heavy millstone before Fritz finally fell asleep as well.
Fritz and Peter were walking across Alexanderplatz. Although the sun was shining from the sky, strangely enough there were only a few other people around. Feeling unobserved, Fritz reached for Peter's hand, which the latter allowed to happen. Hand in hand, the two turned into Alexanderstrasse, where they stopped in front of the display of a flower shop. Fritz turned his head and looked directly into Peter's eyes – how handsome he was. Slowly their faces approached and their lips approached in a kiss. Soon he would know what it felt like to kiss a boy. Fritz closed his eyes when he suddenly heard a noise from a side street that sounded like the stamping of boots. When he opened his eyes again, Peter had suddenly disappeared and, feeling uneasy, Fritz decided to run away. As he turned around, he saw men in brown shirts and black trousers charging at him with shouts. The men had skull symbols on their shirts, so they were clearly the SS who had come to get him. Fritz ran as fast as he could, but the sound of boots trampling on the cobblestones grew louder and louder and came ever closer. Now Fritz could also hear the barking of dogs, which seemed to be right behind him. Whether he wanted to or not, he had to turn around again – to his shock, the big, black dogs were already close behind him. As one of the beasts just leaped up, Fritz let out a loud scream – but it was already too late: the dog had grabbed him and dragged him to the ground. He felt the stinking breath of the beast, its mouth closing menacingly on his face – ready to bite. Ready to kill. An SS officer also leaned over the 'vermin' lying on the ground – a diabolical grin on his face as he grabbed Fritz by the shoulders.
“What's the matter with you?“ he shouted, not sounding angry but rather concerned.
“What's the matter with you?” Max asked, who had sat down on the bed next to Fritz after he had suddenly started screaming like crazy.
Fritz started with fright – it was one of the worst nightmares he had ever had. His brother looked at him with concern. It must have been around three o'clock in the morning.
“Are you all right?” Max asked his brother, who was still lying there speechless, his nightshirt wet with sweat. Fritz's heart was racing as he sat up, gasping for air, and threw himself into his brother's arms.
The latter was visibly astonished and, after a moment's hesitation, returned the embrace – he had never seen his brother, whom he so admired, in such a state, and it frightened him too.
When Fritz noticed the little boy's insecurity and had regained his composure, he reassured him: “Sorry to wake you. I had a terrible nightmare, but now I'm fine. It's nice that you were worried about me, but now everything is all right again. Go to sleep,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from his brother's forehead.
“Did Peter appear in your dream too?“ Max asked quietly after he had crept back under his blanket.
“Why do you ask?” Fritz was suddenly aware.
“Because you called his name out loud!” Max was able to say before he fell asleep again.
Fritz's heart was pounding again. What else had he said in his sleep? One cold shiver after another crept down his sweat-soaked back – it wouldn't be long before everyone knew about his predisposition. Soon it would be real dogs and people hunting him. No matter how much he wanted to, Fritz couldn't get any more sleep that night.
When he still couldn't sleep at around half past five in the morning, he decided to get up to help his mother, who was an early riser, with breakfast. But on this Sunday, he was actually the first to enter the still deserted kitchen, where they always had breakfast together on Sundays – during the week it rarely happened. Fritz fired up the huge stove and made coffee.
“Well, since when do you do women's work?” he suddenly heard his mother's voice behind him. German men basically didn't work in the kitchen, so she lovingly pushed him aside. ”Come on, sit down, I'll bring you coffee in a minute. Why are you up so early today anyway? You're usually always the last to show up for breakfast!”
“I couldn't sleep anymore, I had bad dreams!”
“What happened yesterday, anyway? You left the dance very early. Did you have a fight with Lena? It looked that way to everyone, she was so angry!”
“Did she say something?” Fritz asked tentatively.
“No, she left shortly after you, with her father – he was so drunk he could hardly stand up,” she laughed. ‘Well, hopefully Lutz won't take after him, it would be a shame for Anna. The two of them should get along well.”
“Yes, it seems that way.”
“That would be something: brother and sister marrying sister and brother!’ she seemed to be pleased.
“Mother?” Fritz asked quietly.
“Yes?”
“I don't think I'm going to marry Lena. I mean, I like her and everything, but I'm not in love with her. She's more like a little sister to me, you know?”
“I see, is there someone else?” she asked, concerned, while she put a cup of coffee in front of him. ‘You should start thinking about it, you're not a little kid anymore!”
“No, there's no one,’ Fritz answered as honestly as possible and took a small sip of the still steaming coffee. In reality, there was someone.
His mother looked at him suspiciously. “Well, it's a shame, I could well imagine Lena as a daughter-in-law, but what the heck – you'll surely fall in love soon, you'll see.” Meanwhile, she had sat down at the table with him and was also enjoying the first sip of coffee of the day.
“I am in love,“ Fritz thought to himself and looked in a different direction so as not to have to show his mother that his face was turning bright red at that moment.
“Who was that boy you were sitting with yesterday, anyway? He seems nice,” she asked just at that moment, when he was thinking of Peter.
“Oh, that's Peter. A friend from the Hitler Youth,” Fritz replied, trying to sound as normal as possible, even though he was immediately convinced of the opposite and immediately looked for an unusual reaction on his mother's face. When this did not happen, he continued: ”By the way, he invited me over for coffee this afternoon. He only lives a few streets away from here, and only recently, by the way. He moved here with his family from Leipzig.” Fritz stopped talking when he realized that it was gushing out of him when he spoke of Peter. Again, it seemed to him as if his mother was looking at him implausibly, but again she showed no emotion, got up and put the dough she had prepared the day before in the oven to bake bread, which she always did herself.
“It'll be a while before the rest of your breakfast is ready. Perhaps you'd like to lie down again?“ she asked without turning in his direction.
“Nah, I think I'll go for a run,” he said, going back to his room to put on his gym shorts. Max lay quietly in his bed and was unaware of anything – he was still fast asleep.
Fritz was a fairly well-trained, sporty boy and therefore it was very convenient for him that there was a small sports field with a running track not far from his parents' house. He had often been there with his school class in the past and occasionally used the field on Saturdays to play soccer with his brother. The day didn't seem to be as hot as the previous ones and dark clouds were already gathering in the sky when Fritz started to run a few laps. He was all alone and it felt great to have the sports field to himself.
Again, he thought about everything while he increased his pace lap by lap. “It won't be so bad as long as nobody notices,” he thought. “The only danger could come from Lena; who knows what comes into the minds of women in love.” He also decided to tell Peter about his feelings, but he revised that several times before they actually met that afternoon.
He ran the last few laps so fast that he was completely out of breath and exhausted when he sat down on the well-trodden grass next to the running track. He hadn't been lying there for long when he suddenly felt the first drops.
“Quick home,” he thought to himself, but just before he got there, it started pouring so hard that he arrived home completely soaked. In the kitchen, his mother and siblings were already sitting at the table – the only one missing was his father, who was sleeping off his drunkenness from the day before in the parental bedroom – at least one could guess that from the loud snoring that came through the walls.
When his mother saw him standing there completely soaked, she immediately jumped up to heat a large pot of water on the stove. “Go on, get into the bath before you catch a cold!” A little later, she handed him the pot through the crack in the door and Fritz enjoyed the hot water that invigorated his tired body. Nevertheless, he almost fell asleep if the door had not suddenly opened and Max had not suddenly been standing in the bathroom.
He uninhibitedly took off his clothes and climbed into the tub with Fritz, sitting down at the other end. As children, they had often bathed together to make use of the hot water, but since Fritz was practically a man, he had preferred to have the bath to himself.
He stole a furtive glance between Max's legs and smiled to himself – even though he was only twelve, his dick was almost the same size as his own. “Maybe that's exactly what he wanted to prove to me,” he smiled to himself, but in such a way that his brother, who had meanwhile started to soap his upper body and hair, didn't notice.
“Are you okay again?” Max asked him, looking at him with half-open eyes so as not to get soap in his eye while he rubbed his hair with the sponge.
“Thanks, I'm fine again, it was just a bad dream!”
With that, Max seemed to have finished, but Fritz was about to be confused again. “Now that I'm in love, I'll soon be shagging Lotte. Do you think mine is big enough?” he wanted to know. And without waiting for the answer, he asked again: “Have you shagged Lena yet?” He had stopped lathering himself and looked at Fritz to demand an answer.
Fritz didn't know what to say; even his beloved brother's questions were slowly making him nervous. So he decided to just answer his first question – maybe then he would forget about the second.
“Well, yours is already quite a size for your age, but you're really much too young for sex. Imagine she gets pregnant – so wait a few years!”
“Agreed,” his brother said, satisfied – his brother's opinion mattered to him, there was no discussion. ”And have you? You popped?”
“No, but it might be soon,“ Fritz lied and ended the conversation by getting out of the tub.
“Well, you have two healthy hands,” his brother laughed, still sitting in the tub while Fritz wrapped a towel around his loins and returned to the kitchen.
At half past eight, the whole family was finally sitting at the table, including the father, who was still very much affected, drinking coffee and cocoa and eating bread and butter. On Sundays, there were always some pieces of bacon from Ulf's shop, which were particularly enjoyed – meat was not an everyday food at that time.
After his hot bath and breakfast, Fritz was so refreshed that the lack of sleep finally made itself felt in him, and he lay down again to sleep.
He only woke up again shortly before lunch, which he wolfed down rather quickly – he was in a hurry to see Peter. Trembling, he fumbled the beer mat out of his pocket to read Peter's address again – by now, of course, he knew it by heart, but he simply liked his handwriting and it was also the most personal thing he had of him.
Just a few minutes later, Fritz was standing in front of the huge apartment building where Peter's family lived. He hesitated for a moment before ringing Kakoschke's doorbell. It was Peter himself who opened the door, looking rather surprised – apparently he hadn't expected Fritz to turn up.
“Hello Fritz. I'm glad you came. Come with me, we live on the third floor,“ he invited him to come along. ‘My sisters just went to my aunt's with my mother. So we're alone with my father,’ he said as he unlocked the front door.
“Heil Hitler, Mr. Kakoschke,” he greeted Peter's father in the way it was done back then.
“Hello Fritz. Nice to see you here. How are you?” His father said just as friendly as Fritz had met him the night before. In the living room, which Mr. Kakoschke apparently also used as a study, there were some biology books lying around – on the box was a stuffed squirrel and a stuffed owl.
“I am – I was a biology teacher,“ he answered Fritz's curious looks.
“Was?” Fritz wanted to know.
“The Nazis withdrew his license to teach. My father didn't want to include the new racial theory in his lessons. A few parents got wind of it – and he lost his job. Great, isn't it?” Peter was upset.
“Why did you do that?” Fritz asked him as politely as possible. ‘You should have known that this could happen to you!”
Mr. Kalkosche just smiled mildly at Fritz's youthful naivety.
“Because I didn't want to and because I believe that these ’theories‘ do not correspond to the truth. ’Jews are inferior'. Don't make me laugh – my best students were mostly Jews.”
What Mr. Kakoschke said here seemed rather bold to Fritz, although he had to agree with him. In elementary school, he sat next to a Jewish child named David, who was the best in his class and also became something like Fritz's best friend. Back then, when it wasn't a crime to sit next to a Jew, back when Jews were still allowed to attend public institutions like schools. Somehow Fritz was ashamed that it was only now, for the first time in a long time, that he thought of his childhood friend and that he hadn't seen him in a long time. But probably he had – like all Jewish families in his neighborhood – disappeared from the scene by now.
At home, no one talked about what was happening to them – his father only ever ranted about what was happening because of them. “Watch out for the Jews!” his father always said. Now that he thought of David, he began to have doubts about these statements. Was David to blame for the defeat in the First World War? This delicate, intelligent boy, was he also a public pest? The old woman Fritz saw a short time ago a few streets away, who had to lick blood off the street, was she to blame?
“I can see that you are concerned about this. Do that – stay critical and don't let yourself be swayed. Do you hear me? Be yourself, regardless of the consequences. Now excuse me, I need to lie down for a moment. Ever since the Gestapo beat me up, I've been suffering from occasional headaches,” Mr. Kakoschke apologized and stretched out on the sofa. Fritz liked Mr. Kakoschke right away – despite everything, he must not have lost his sense of humor.
“Come with me,” Peter said quietly, putting his index finger to his lips and leading Fritz to his chamber, where they sat down at his desk. Since Peter was still at school and it was only the second week of vacation, there were still a lot of school supplies lying around.
“You still go to school?” Fritz asked him in surprise when he saw the books.
“Of course, I plan to graduate from high school!“ he said. ‘If it still works out!’ he added.
“What do you mean?”
“My father thinks there will be another war soon, much worse than the last one,” he said, looking quite thoughtful. “And this time, we'll probably be the ones to take the fall.”
“Oh, nonsense, who's going to attack us?”
“Think about it: the Sudetenland, Czechoslovakia and Austria have already been grabbed by this Hitler, do you think he'll be satisfied with that, this maniac?”
“What are you talking about?” Fritz shouted angrily, ”Who gave us work when we were struggling?”
“And who took them away from others? And who has others arrested because they are different or think differently? Think about your own situation and open your eyes! It's happening here with us – and nobody seems to care!” Peter talked himself into a rage before a few angry tears ran down his cheeks.
“My situation?“ stammered Fritz, pretending not to know what Peter meant. The openness with which Peter addressed certain things frightened him.
“You know exactly what I mean,” replied Peter, now calm again, putting his arm around Fritz's shoulders. The latter hesitated only briefly – and finally let it be seen.
“I recognized it immediately. The way you looked at me when I was at the Volksheim for the first time. I knew then: you feel the same way I do.”
Peter spoke very calmly, almost gently, but Fritz felt his throat tighten – he was gasping for air and close to tears.
“Be yourself,“ Peter repeated his father's words and put his second arm around his shoulders. He was now sitting directly in front of Fritz. ‘And to answer your question: the answer is ’yes'!”
“What question?” stammered Fritz, who did have a slight idea of what he meant, though.
“The question you keep asking yourself: Does he love me? The answer is 'Yes'! I think about you all the time and even though it's dangerous, I want to take the risk of being with you. I like you... a lot!”
Slowly, Peter's face approached Fritz's – and finally he kissed him on the mouth. Fritz sat there paralyzed: It was just a harmless kiss – on the lips – but harmless, but it was a thousand times better than anything he had ever experienced with Lena.
Peter looked at him lovingly. “I wanted that so much,” he said quietly.
“We have to be damn careful,” he added, ”but you're worth it to me.”
Fritz was still overwhelmed by the whole situation, so Peter took him tenderly in his arms while stroking his hair. He had never been so close to another person before – it felt so damn good. Peter had laid his head on Fritz's right shoulder and was breathing in and out calmly, so that Fritz could feel Peter's warm breath on his neck. His hairs stood on end and one shiver after another chased down his spine. Whether wrong or not, Fritz now kissed Peter too, and the kissing soon turned into passionate necking! Fritz felt Peter tremble with excitement, and he felt no different himself – his already stiff member was just waiting to be freed by Peter's hand. The night before, he had pushed Lena away when she touched his crotch – now he wanted nothing more than that. Since Peter seemed to feel the same way, Fritz dared to take the first step and put his hand into Peter's pants to free his penis from its tight prison. Peter did the same and both came after just a few minutes – panting and gasping for air.
After that, they lay down on Peter's bed, smoked a cigarette and stared at the ceiling.
“Why are you actually in the HJ?” Fritz asked after a while.
“Well, what other choice do I have? You know what they do to people who don't want to join ‘voluntarily’? They kick the shit out of them – I saw it myself in Leipzig, not on me, but on others. And what about my father? A known resistance fighter? He thought it best for my own protection that I join up – the best disguise is often to slip into the skin of the enemy. But don't worry: I didn't take the Hitler oath with my fingers crossed!”
He tried to laugh, but now he was once again aware of the danger both of them were putting themselves in.
“We have to be very careful, you realize that, don't you?” Fritz said, filled with fear.
“Because one thing is clear: if anyone discovers us and betrays us, they will kill us! No doubt about it, they will kill us!”
Both were aware of the seriousness of their situation. They fell into each other's arms, sighing, and enjoyed each other's company for as long as they could
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Autumn in Berlin