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-Nightmares of the Conscience-

Written by: Slaughts

Once a peaceful landscape that only experienced the carving of a peasant's plow and the hooves of horses, it was now tainted by the ravages of war. Bullets were piercing through the air, artillery shells blasted the earth, and corpses fertilized the grass with dripping blood. For the living, adrenaline was pumping through their bodies and for most of them only three things existed in their mind: surviving, the fear of death, and killing the other son of a bitch before they get you.

A young panther had all of those going through his head as he ducked behind a stone wall that used to be part of a farm. Some of his German Army comrades landed next to him, not able to face the suppressing fire of a Soviet machinegun. They were exhausted, panting for air after a long dash for cover. Most of them were dirty, their facial fur growing from weeks without shaving, and they smelled like they came from a sewer; all of that didn't matter.

The panther tried to get his thoughts clear. Not only was he responsible for his own well being and performance, he was also responsible for his platoon of fifteen men. If he took the wrong course, all of them would be dead. Thus a cool head was needed if they needed to stay alive.

"Wait till he has to reload" he commanded. Both the greenhorns and veterans listened to him and waited for the sign of a depleted machinegun belt. When it did, the riflemen laid their K98 bolt action rifles on the wall and fired. They managed to take out the Soviet gunners, but not without taking some fire of their own. Four of them went down dead before they hit the ground and another couple were cursing and screaming from wounds.

Looking down at the face of a wounded calico, he knew they couldn't stay here. Pointing to his subordinate, he commanded "Karl, get these casualties out of here. We'll cover you and follow."

"Jawhol Herr Oberleutnant!" came the reply. Giving instructions, the wounded were thrown on the backs of the stronger men and the dead grabbed at the shirt collar. Looking over, the panther held up 3 fingers, then two, then one, and with a wave of the hand, gave the order to fire. All at once, rifle shots and his machine pistol blasted a barrage at the Soviet infantry advancing onto the wall as their comrades pulled back to the rear.

After a hard count of a hundred, the panther ordered his men to fall back. "Move! Los! Los!" At the time, as he was dashing to the safety of his own army, he thought about all the miles they gave up to the Soviets and of all the dead men they left behind just to be looted. As a German soldier brought up on the superiority of his nation against all others, it bothered him. However, at the same time, there was a wound that hanged over him tearing down the walls of this arrogance. "Do we really deserve to?" he muttered.

He couldn't complete the thought as he landed face first into the ground. His helmet fell off and his nose was leaking blood from being broken. Coughing, he turned over and that was when the pain kicked in. His leg felt as though boiling lava was swamping it and he could do nothing about it. Screaming his lungs out, he looked to the sky and wondered whether he did right in this world. He took out a wooden cross out of his pocket, scarred and chipped. Looking at it while bleeding and in pain, he cried, shook his head, and screamed once more.

That was when Hauptmann Fritz Becker woke up, his face and ears feeling the beads of sweat that soaked the fur. "Wha...Oh, I'm here" he breathed, remembering that he wasn't lying in some field on the Soviet front, but here on a train in his native Germany heading back to his home of Bremen. Embarrassed, he looked to his left and right, but luckily no one was next to him to see his awakening. He took off his officer's cap and brushed his hair, looking out the window.

Fritz thought "This nightmare and the other... wish they would wash away from head." The dream he just experienced, it was a recollection of the moment he was wounded outside of the town of Kharkov. Shot in the leg, he was left there until the Germans were able to push the Soviets back and he went to a field hospital. For two weeks, he recuperated there, was promoted and awarded for his bravery, and given home leave when he was better. However, ever since, Fritz relived that moment in his sleep and hated every moment of it. The other nightmare he experienced, one that was older than this latest one, he dared not elaborate on that one even in the confines of his mind.

Fortunately, the train was getting closer to the Bremen station, so he would not be on it longer. Looking down at his lap, Fritz remembered he was carrying not only his bag of personal belongings, but a German translation of the tales of Greek hero Heracles. He enjoyed the old Greek/Roman literature and this tale was fascinating, but in a twisted way, he could relate to Heracles and his drive for atonement. "Maybe someday" he commented, putting the book back into his bag.

While it was war time and many did not travel on trains as they did in peace time, Bremen train station was still busy with civilians, government workers, party functionaries, and soldiers like him traveling through the Fatherland. Walking to present his papers to the police clerk, Fritz was almost stunned how casual it was. He wasn't the only Wehrmacht soldier that was on board and seeing the same reactions from them reassured him that he wasn't the only one. Being used to war, home was like Mars in comparison.

However, one part of his home life never changed. "Fritz!" an older panther yelled as she ran up to him and hugged him.

"Mother" Fritz muttered, tears in his eyes. His mother, Ingrid Becker, was dressed in the teal dress that reminded him of the last time he was in Bremen before reporting to training. That was a comfort to him, as small as it was.

They broke off the embrace and she looked into his eyes. "I heard you were wounded, are you making it alright dear?"

He patted his right leg with the military cane he was issued with. "It is incredibly sore, but they told me to try to walk on it so I can get used to it."

"God bless it was nothing worse" she sighed. When she got the official letter, she was a nervous wreck and her husband, Gunther, attempted to console her without much luck. "I will see if I can make it more comfortable for you when you sit."

Fritz shook his head "Not necessary mother."

"No, I insist. You're my son." He knew it was pointless to argue, he didn't want to ruin the moment and she was headstrong. At least when they were walking out to their car she didn't also insist carrying his bag, he had to do something for himself after all. Their family Volkswagen was big enough to fit his luggage and he sat up at front while his mother drove.

At sunset, Bremen still had citizens walking around enjoying life, but the increased presence of garrison soldiers reminded them all too well of the calamity that hung over them all. Even the noise that would normally announce a busy city seemed dulled down. Looking from the passenger seat, Fritz knew he was in his home town, but at the same time it felt alien to him.

"Fritz?" His mother noticed his far away look.

"I am fine mother, it is nothing to worry about." But he knew that was bullshit and in a way, his mother also knew. His father was the same way during the previous war when he returned home from the trenches, looking far away yet not focused on an immediate object. It was distressing when she woke up from his cries and sobbing from the nightmares that plagued him. Now to see those same looks from her son, it tore her heart apart even though she dared not show it.

She sighed. "Any how, your father and Anna should already be there waiting."

"What about Hans and Sophia?"

"Well, you know that Sophia is still on duty in Africa." How can one forget his twin sister Sophia, the Army version of Hanna Reitsch? She was one of the few women to be able to enter the armed forces and be just as good as a man. "Hans should also be there once he is done with his party meeting."

Fritz could only grunt on that one. He and Hans were never that close, he was younger, a product of the Hitler Youth organization, and unlike Fritz, never enlisted with the Wehrmacht, he became a party functionary here. He did not know whether to resent the fact that his younger brother chose to not voluntarily join the military, but he did resent that instead he was living comfortably in an office behind the desk instead of doing actual work for the country. Of course, Hans would say that working for the party is just as important, but to Fritz, he was coping out. It didn't help that Hans bought too much into the party ideology which Fritz never really cared for.

"What about Marlene?" he asked. She was an orange feline that he fell in love with back in 1939 when they were university students. They were classmates in English literature and afterwards, they struck up a conversation about Charles Dickens, odd considering they didn't care much for one of his books they just read. Eventually they liked each other and fell in love. Marlene stayed loyal to Fritz when he was away at the front and fortunately his family took her in as like a daughter. He was a lucky man and he didn't take it for granted.

His mother nodded, "Yes, she is there Fritz. She works long hours at that one factory where they make army uniforms. Who knows, maybe she stitched yours?" She grinned.

He laughed and shook his head "I would like to think so." Fritz stretched his arms and pulled at his collar a bit, his Knights Cross dangling from his neck like a prized medallion. That prized decoration for many a Wehrmacht soldier was an item he is proud to have earned, although it was for that action which put him at the hospital. Supposedly his group managed to hold off the Soviets for a few hours, enough for a corps commander (which he didn't know about) and many an ambulance train to get to safety. Whether that was worth his Knights Cross or not was a moot point.

On the Achimerstrasse, he could see the house he grew up in. It was a two story red bricked townhouse lit up with activity. Ingrid Becker parked the car into the slot in front of their house. She got out and was proceeding to go over the other side to open Fritz's door, but he waved her off and got out.

Looking at the house, he had tears staining his eyes. How many times did he think he would never see this place again? "Far too many to count" he thought to himself and it was also right about now he regretted ever saying anything bad about the place when he was a hot-headed youth. War, in its own horrid fashion, teaches people to appreciate the small things they had in life.

"Come Fritz" his mother said, wrapping her arm around his. Slowly he climbed up the steps with cane in hand, ignoring the throbbing pain his leg was feeling. He turned the knob and entered their family home.

He was tackled by a hug from an orange coated cat. "Fritz!" whelped Marlene, her arms around his neck, but not holding too hard to put stress on his leg. She also kissed him so hard on the lips that his eyes went wide and cross-eyed, but he returned every one. His mother clucked indignantly behind him, but she also giggled so it wasn't serious. Normally she was serious about discouraging public acts of affection, but under the circumstances she didn't mind this time.

"I missed you so much my angel" he whispered into her as he hugged her. A slight purr came from her, but they broke off; they knew they were hitting their limit. Getting a more focused look on Marlene, Fritz thought she looked more beautiful than the last time he seen her. Her wavy dark blonde hair was down to her shoulders, those green eyes beamed at him, those soft lips still tasting his, and she was also wearing a red dress that was his favorite of hers.

"I am glad you're home Fritz, but how is the leg?" she asked. Marlene was beaming, but she was concerned.

He shook his head. "It aches, but it is nothing real serious. I can still walk on it, but I do need the cane from time to time."

Another female voice came from the corner. "Oh figures, he brushes these things off like he always has." His younger sister, Anna, came up to him and hugged him as well.

"Hey sis, it really is nothing" he smirked, but it seemed his leg wanted to disprove his confidence with a twitch of pain going up through it. "How are you?"

"Not bad, although things are stressful at the ammunition factory. You always hear Herr Volkmann complain about lack of materials, tools, and everything else."

Fritz grunted. "Sounds like our quartermaster back on the front"

"Quartermasters since Frederick the Great have done that son, even mine" mumbled an older panther, who previously was sitting in a chair smoking a pipe. Gunther Becker got out of the chair and went over to his son Fritz and hugged him. His hair, once jet black, was ice grey, but his Van Dyke beard never changed since Fritz was born and he still gave off the aura of a simple sentimental man. "Welcome home. I trust your ride went well?"

Fritz nodded. "About as smooth as it could be. Guess I was lucky the hospital I was recovering at was in Danzig and not somewhere near the front, otherwise it'd be more shaky."

"Well, there are worse things than shaky train rides" the older man said, returning back to his chair. "Sit down and relax, I know you have your pride, but don't pain your leg further". Fritz wanted to protest, but he didn't. He sat down in the chair next to his father, noticing the pillows his mother placed to cushion his hind quarters. Taking off his uniform jacket, he relaxed and was on the verge of falling asleep right there. Before the war, he took this for granted, but being able to relax and not worry about anything bad happening to you was cherished for him.

Marlene, his sister, and mother worked in the kitchen while he and his father smoked pipes in the den. Normally Fritz refrained from smoking, bad for his lungs, but it was a good moment with his father; plus the cherry tobacco wasn't bad.

Gunther noticed the Knights Cross on his son's uniform jacket and pointed at it "Never thought I'd see one of my sons earn that. Makes me proud son."

Fritz shook his head 'Didn't think I earned it. I didn't even know about the other stuff with the general until I was in a hospital bunk."

"Well, you still did earn it and even if that person wasn't the Desert Fox himself, I'm sure many a patient can thank you for that."

"Wasn't just me of course."

"Of course". Gunther puffed a smoke ring before continuing. "Turned out better than when I was wounded."

Fritz turned his head at that. His father didn't talk little about his war experiences. "How did it happen dad?"

Another puff of smoke. "Back when I was on the Somme against the Brits. My unit was part of one of the over the top counterattacks we did with the Tommies. I was firing my rifle when I got hit in the back. Since the battle was ongoing, nobody got to me till an hour later and by then I was almost out of blood. Fortunately they got to me before I passed on."

"I...never knew."

"It's not easy sharing those things which terrify you, which I am sure you agree with."

Fritz didn't respond to this line. His father knew the answer since both of them saw the elephant, but the line was depressingly true in another sense, something that he did not care to disclose.

The train of thought was interrupted with the movement of the door. Coming into their home was a younger panther in a brown uniform. His hair was black, swept to the side like the Fuehrer and his eyes had the same blue eyes as Fritz. He had a cap similar to the one Fritz was wearing, but was brown like the uniform and had a red swatstika armband on the right sleeve. It was Fritz's younger brother, Hans.

Hans stopped in place and said "Oh, hello brother, father." He raised his left arm, "Heil Hitler."

Fritz raised his own arm and recited it, just mechanical for him now. "Hi Hans. Busy day?"

He dropped his hat and coat off near to Fritz's uniform on the rack. He said "Nothing outside of transmitting documents from the mayor to the local military commander". Hans sat in a chair near the duo. Relaxing in the chair, he spoke "I didn't expect you to come so quickly Fritz."

Fritz said "It wasn't a big holdover, amazingly our railroad network was fine around Danzig."

Hans nodded "ah yes, at least those Polish worms haven't touched them. Need to be squashed and pounded to hell they must be."

Fritz blew a smoke ring. "Indeed" he muttered, keeping his own comments to himself. It was only then that Fritz's mother called everybody to the table and he would finally have his first dinner with family in two years. Fritz was seated at his father's right, with his mother and brother on the other side with Marlene and his sister next to him. It was a meal that everybody could be satisfied with: ham, mashed potatoes with gravy, and carrots.

Fritz smiled and sipped his water glass as the rest of his family shared their happenings of the day. It was comforting that even when he was on the front, life still continued in the Becker household.

It was normal until Hans asked him, "So Fritz, how goes the Front?"

He lowered his glass and replied "Stable now that the winter and spring storms are gone. It's hard to move if the lorry or panzer is stuck in the mud or frozen in ice."

"A mark of the terrible Russian landscape."

His father grunted. "Not like we don't have bad storms here son."

"But it's not like you hear great stories about how convoys of trucks and men are held up by the dandruff and shit of Russia." Their mother shot him a look, but he ignored it.

Fritz sighed and sipped his water again. He did remember complaining about it and living through it during the winter retreat, but it was not that simple. Sure weather elements can hinder any army, but it does not force an army back several kilometers all on its own.

He wished the topic would change, but Hans asked him another question. "What about the actual battle lines? Is it really true that we're falling back?"

"The last time I was there, we managed to force them back, but things are quiet."

Hans shook his head. "I still can't believe they even pushed us back all the way from Moscow. We had the prize there right in our hands!"

Fritz sighed "Yes, I know...I was there, remember?" How can anybody forget nearly freezing to death and starving while the enemy closed in around you? He was only lucky he got out of there before he was captured or dead.

He could tell that his mother, sister, and Marlene were uncomfortable with this talk, the former two from experience. Even when he was young, when Hans got passionate on a subject, it was hard for him to unwind. Father would bust his behind for it, but now he was too old to do so and Hans was a party functionary, even if a minor one. You can't bust them without getting a load of trouble on yourself, even if it is your own uppity son.

Alas, he kept on. "Germany's finest men, the guardians of our people, denied the prize which we deserve, a glorious march into an enemy capital. It is plain as day that the Slavs are inferior to us Aryans, but how did those termites get us?" His gaze shifted to his older brother. "Fritz, I am thinking coward are running the army now."

"Certainly there are idiots in the army from general down to private, but it's all practicality at work." Hans snorted disdainfully, but Fritz continued. "Nobody planned for the winter, they didn't even ship us winter clothing until it was too late. We did not have the ammunition or fuel to continue onward and by the time we even got to the gates of Moscow, we were exhausted while the enemy was not. It's simple logic that they would beat us back the way that they did."

Logic it was not to Hans. "Despite those difficulties, they were ones that could be overcome. We adapted to that before and won, so why is it that the army could not do that, especially since the Ivans are worthless?"

Fritz sighed again. "Look Hans, I don't know what they have been saying here, but it isn't as clear as day as that."

A grunt. "Why?"

"They learned. They didn't know what to do when we hit them last year, but they know now. Their panzers are slightly better than ours, that's why we had to come out with new types recently. They adapted to their home environment easier than we did, that was why they did better in the winter than we did. Before they would just charge and we'd murder them easily, but now they are acting like us in tactics. They're acting like trained soldiers rather than dumpkoff farmers."

"No, they simply cannot and never will be. We only let them think they are that way" Hans hissed.

It was one thing to complain, but now Fritz was getting pissed about his service being insulted. He looked at Hans straight in the eye like he was pointing a rifle. "So...tell me there Herr Generalfeldmarschall, when was the last time you got into a muddy trench?"

"What the hell are you blabbering at now?"

Fritz got up from his chair. Anna wanted to grab at him, but she withdrew at the last minute. He hissed with poison from his throat."When was the last time you had to crawl in front of machine gun fire, smelling of dirt, sweat, piss, and shit as you advanced under enemy bombardment because you had to take that position for your comrades? When was the last time you shivered from the ice clinging to your fur because your uniform tunic was too thin? When was the last time you were there, staring into your enemies eyes while you both struggled for your lives with a bladed shovel? Tell me, when was the last time you slept on bare ground with the screams of the wounded and the corpses of the dead as your bed companions?!"

Hans was shocked at the outburst. "T-that does not mea-"

"Bullshit! You sit there like some prissy school boy thinking he knows what it's like from reading the propaganda news and some rear-echelon's report, but you never were there to begin with. How does one like you know how it's like at the front, what war really does to you or your enemies. How dare you tell me and insult my service, MY honor, without having the balls in you to put on a uniform for the Fatherland!"

Hans was again shocked, but even under the fur he was turning beat red. He got up too and came around to where Fritz was.

Gunther now was annoyed by this disturbance. "Boys, sit back down!" he yelled.

Hans looked at him and snarled "Shut up you old schweinehund! You're probably sitting there agreeing with him. An older coward from one war with his son, the coward of a new one making excuses for why you failed for the Fuhrer and Fatherland".

Fritz got even closer. Sarcastically he said, "Oh so we failed now? I forgot Stalin was giving his victory speech in Berlin with the Fuehrer's head on a pike."

His mother tried to say something "Fritz! Hans! Will you please stop this?"

"Quiet mother!" He snarled again. Looking back at Fritz, he continued, "And you, don't even blaspheme his title with your nonsense!" Hans pointed his finger straight at Fritz. "You're too soft, you and the army. That's really what it boils down to. You may be given an order and follow it, but you do not accept the very essence of the mission which you are set upon. You look for a way to get out of it, you want to go back to your bed and sleep while the enemy is seeking to annihilate our race. You are there to remove the taint of communism and Slavism from those lands for which we should be using for lebensraum, not go back and forth with them like some military ballerina."

"All of which is bullshit."

"Damn your lies. Your mission is to kill every Russian man, woman, and child from the earth!"

Fritz shook his head, "Are you even listening to yourself? What the hell are you talking about? Russian soldiers, yes they must be killed if they fire on us, but women and children, killing them means nothing to our cause."

"Ah! So the softie in you speaks again! No, that misguided morality of yours fools you. With the women and children, that's just more unnecessary mouths to feed and breeds the next generation of soldiers to kill us. As the Fuhrer said before, we must not show mercy to the enemy. All of them must be killed."

The two of them looked at each other, like a pair of snipers sighting one another through their scopes. Fritz clenched his black palms tighter and the weight of the wooden cross felt heavier. His painful memories returned to the forefront of his mind, the ones that kept him awake at night and the ones that were a plague on his soul.

Fritz looked at his family and looked back at a sneering Hans. Slowly, he said "I, will not be your butcher Hans."

"Not mine and it is not butchering when you are doing it for the cause."

Suddenly Fritz yelled at the top of his lungs. "What kind of fucking cause is worth it that we must murder innocent women and children in the streets, in their homes, in their beds?!" That sent Hans a couple paces back. "There is no god damned reason on this plant for us to be acting like Satan's minions to hunt women and children-who never pointed a rifle at me- down like dogs and tear into their flesh like ghouls!" Without realizing it, he took out the scarred wooden cross from his pocket, grasping it in his left hand while tears came to his eyes. "How can you say those things Hans without ever...being there? Those eyes of that Russian child, scared about what was going to happen to them and looking for a way out of the hell they are in..," Fritz put the cross back in his pocket before he went on, "can you look into those eyes and tell me...that you would shoot them down without remorse or conscience?"

Hans just laughed at the notion. "Please, that's more of your misguided morality. You chickened out when you had to do it, didn't you? That's why you will never be a true Aryan, Fritz. I should rip that Knights Cross from your throat for being too much of a damned coward."

Like a switch, Fritz's eyes turned from teary eyed to cold, looking at Hans as though he were nothing but an insect. "At least," he replied sharply, but coldly, "I am not sitting here in Bremen, safe away from the front, drinking cold beer and probably fucking some soldier's girlfriend in the office while giving her the clap."

That was the last straw for Hans. He lunged at Fritz, his fist aiming straight for his head. Normally, this would do well in a beer hall brawl, but his older brother faced this before on the front. He managed to duck slightly where Han's fist would go over him, his own right fist aiming at the diaphragm. With his strike and Han's forward movement, the damage was enough for all the breath in his lungs to escape, an audible gasp loud enough to be a yell. His body slid forward as Fritz, with all his rage, hit Han's neck with the sharpened forced of his elbow, causing his younger brother to go unconscious. The young panther hit the floor with a thud, his eyes closed, blood coming from his mouth, and the body not moving a single millimeter. He wasn't dead, but it still was damaging.

Fritz managed to get his first good breath, his heart and breathing come to a still when the enemy strikes. It was only then did he look at his family, who all looked like Satan himself made an appearance. If they could show it, they would be pale as ghosts. "Oh Hans!" his mother cried out as she looked at him, checking his vitals, and caring for him. His father looked at Han's body and looked at Fritz, a sad look on his face like he knew it was coming, but hated every moment of it.

With his father's face and his mother crying, he felt ashamed for being in this house. "I'm going" he muttered as he went over to the Hall tree to put on his uniform coat, officers cap, and picked up his luggage bag. His sister and Marlene called out to him, but he already was out the door into the night of Bremen. He dashed a block without thought, just to get away from that house. But it wasn't long before he stopped and started shedding tears without control from his eyes. Even when he was on the front, all he wanted was to go back to his home, the one he remembered when he grew up when the family was normal and stable, the one that was not divided based on political ideology or experiences of war. When he wrote his letters in his makeshift barracks in Russia, he couldn't but think about it. But now, much like the cities and fields the war destroyed, it also destroyed his sanctuary.

Without notice, someone hugged him from behind and from smell alone (and the hands on his waist, he could tell it was Marlene. "Fritz..stop" she gasped, clinging to him hard. She didn't have to say anything else, he knew what she was feeling, seeing the very raw side of his anger and guessing how much anguish it was to feel that you may have broken your family. He turned around and looked into her green eyes, rubbing her cheek with the palm which struck his brother earlier. Fritz kissed her and embraced her, sobbing into her shoulder to let it out of his system. She patted his head as he wetted her dress with his tears, keeping him close.

After a few minutes, he broke off, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. Marlene took his hand and said, "Come". Not feeling like objecting, Fritz followed his girlfriend hand-in-hand. It was not yet curfew, but was getting close and while Fritz may get some slack for being a Wehrmacht soldier, they did not want the police to get mad at them. They walked a few blocks before they arrived at a row of apartments closer to the urban sprawl of Bremen. Fritz said nothing to her as they walked in and went to the third floor where her own apartment was.

Unlocking the door, Marlene immediately took off Fritz's cap and coat to place them over a chair. It was a modest one bedroom apartment, simple furniture and décor, all that a single resident needed to feel at home. Instead of heading to the couch, they went straight to Marlene's bedroom which reflected the same simplicity as the living room with exception to the family photos, including one of Fritz in his uniform. Without hesitation, he took off the white shirt he had on, exposing his black naked torso and took of his boots and socks. Marlene came back into the room after washing up and sat next to him on the bed, rubbing her orange hands up his chest.

She giggled "Certainly got more toned since the last time I seen you."

He smiled, one he needed right now. "Yeah, one of the benefits of the job"

"Maybe I can get more results?"

"Perhaps". He kissed her and she returned it. He missed her soft and beautiful lips, her breath blowing onto his mouth, and even her delicious tongue. Oh how he longed for her after all these months of hell!

Their kissing session was going to continue until he felt a jab into his thigh. Remembering he had something in there, Fritz dug into his pocket and retrieved the wooden cross. The smile he had faded away as his fingers glazed over the scarred wood, stained with the mud, dirt, dust, and snow of Russia. It had three lines compared to the usual one on a normal cross.

Marlene rubbed his shoulder "I can see that means something to you, the way you hold it now...and back then..."

Fritz nodded. "You can say that. I see it more as a reminder of what I've done, what my crime was."

She looked down at it, wondering what story was behind the cross. "What was?"

He looked at her, pained that he had to tell her, but also relieved he could tell the tale to someone close to him. He sighed before saying, "I was falling back with my squad back in early March near some village on the outskirts of Kharkov. The Russians hit our front hard with T-34s and artillery pounding at us so we had to move quickly to a new position. It was snowing too so we were lost on finding our way back.

"It wasn't too long before I ran into another officer, a major this time, but he was hurrying along with his Luger out. He yelled at a couple men to herd this row of ten children toward a ruined building. I called out to him, asking where we were, turned out we were three kilometers off from where we needed to be. But he needed us to carry out a task. I asked what it was. He said 'We need you to execute some Russian partisans Herr Leutnant'. I pointed to the boys and he nodded. I asked whether they were found with weapons or what not. He scolded at me for supposedly questioning his authority. He ordered me to carry out the execution and being a Christian man I was appalled and shocked to be ordered to do that. He hit me in the jaw and like Hans earlier, criticized my cowardice as a German soldier.

Fritz swallowed before he went on, slowly getting out the sentences like he was uncovering a memory he buried long ago. "He ordered me to join the firing line with my men and if I didn't, we all would be executed on the spot. All of us had a kid each to shoot...I was picked to kill the youngest." He sniffed, his blue eyes seeing into some far off place. "Good god Marlene, he was only seven years old at least, with these puppy dog brown eyes staring into mine like he was asking me where his mommy was."

"I was shedding tears by then and couldn't see straight, maybe that would throw off my shot I hoped. The major gave us the order to fire and like a...good soldier, I pulled the trigger. The last thing I remember were those eyes, staring straight at me, asking 'why are you doing this sir?'," he looked at Marlene with new tears on his face. "You know what? I had no damn idea!" He choked up on that, the memories so strong,

Marlene couldn't believe it, but the emotion was there to dispel such disbelief. Now she understood why he acted the way he did back at his family's home with Hans. It was profound dark memory that he was hanging around his neck like his Knights Cross, a noose to hang his soul for damnation.

Fritz wiped his eyes and looked into space again. "I was dead on, hit him in the forehead. The major just looked at me and left with his men, the job was done, no need to bury the kids. My squad was unanimous in staying behind to bury them, even if they were shallow graves; they were as outraged as I was." He held up the wooden orthodox cross. "This was in the pocket of that boy I killed. It must've been his fathers because of the Cyrillic etched on the back, his reminder of a father who was probably long gone from his life. I kept it with me so I would never forget what happened there...what I done there and by god, if this is what we're supposed to do out there...damn."

For a minute, the room was silent as the grave. Marlene took deep breaths, not expecting that her Fritz, the one she loved, would kill a child in cold blood. But he didn't, he hated it and didn't want to, but some blood thirsty asshole held the death of himself and his squad if he didn't comply. She wasn't a soldier herself, but she could understand that powerful brotherly bond he had with his men and as an officer, it was his duty to get them back home. It was a battle that hurt him more than any bullet could have and even now, sitting next to her, he was replaying it in his head.

Fritz shook his head and cried again. "God Marlene...I should've shot the fucker in the head there and take my odds. Why did I go along with being a murderer?"

"Shh shh" She held him again, petting his brown hair with her fingers. She whispered in his ear "There was nothing you could've done to prevent that. His men would've killed you and your men."

Fritz sighed. "Yes...from where we were, they would've killed us all before that bullet entered the major's skull and have enough left for the kids anyway. But still...why did I comply with being a terrible butcher?"

Marlene looked into his eyes with tears in her own eyes and said "Fritz, you are not evil for that. I love you for you are a moral, caring individual inside of you. I don't blame you for what you couldn't have prevented...I'm just...shocked that even happened." He nodded, but she went on. "As I said Fritz Becker, I love you for what you are...not for what they forced you to be. That true man, you... is what matters to me." She kissed him on the lips, a deep kiss that sent waves to his brain. He dropped the cross to the floor and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Like a fine wine, Fritz tasted his love's lips and tongue, a sweet sensation that he missed for a lifetime for all it felt to him. "Oh Marlene, I missed you so" he mused into her ear softly. It was fully hitting him that he wasn't in danger, he was in the bed of his girlfriend in the safety of the covers and her arms. After one more kiss, they looked at each other, both of them tear-stained. It was so long since they've been together, with the fear that he would be gone forever in some unknown field. Even then, the letters were good, but they couldn't hold each other. Now they could and do even more. With Fritz's hand sliding beneath her dress, they connected even more.

---

Later that night after they tested the bed springs, Fritz and Marlene laid asleep in the bed curled against each other. On a glance, they may seem to be at peace, but even after Marlene forgiving him for his crimes, his conscience did not. Inside his head, he wasn't in bed with his love, he was back in the cold and snow; he was back in hell. Fritz looked around and all he could see was white emptiness with flakes flying in front of his nose. He whispered to himself, "Why the hell am I here?" Walking around did nothing to reveal any people or landmarks to designate where he was. For all he knew, this was what happened after death like he was shot without ever expecting it.

However, after a period of walking around aimlessly, he noticed a figure marching in his direction. Stopping in his tracks, Fritz squinted and he could tell off the bat it was some Army officer. As the figure reached closer, he could finally see who it was. "Hans?!" he cried out as he saw his younger brother's face. What was more frightening is that Hans looked like he didn't recognize Fritz one bit and was boring into his eyes like a sharp drill.

Hans commanded, "Oberleutnant! Come at once!" It was his voice and his face, but it was not him, he did not act like the brother he slugged earlier in the day.

"What gives Hans?" he replied.

"Partisans! We have caught several of them hoarding weapons and planting bombs on our convoys!"

"Was there any evidence of this?"

"It does not matter, they are Russians and were quite aggressive when we checked their homes. For these crimes against the Reich, they must be summarily executed."

It was all coming back to him. "NO!" he yelled, gritting his teeth. "Goddamnit, I will not be the butcher for you or any other asshole!"

Suddenly, his left cheek felt the full force of a fist punching into it. The blast was unexpected and he fell back to land his right side into the snow. Hans the officer yelled "You schweinehund! You call yourself a Wehrmacht officer and you disobey a direct command? By god you should be up there with the rest of the untermenschen, but I know a far worse fate for you!"

Fritz tasted frost and iron in his mouth when he heard something thud near his ear. Looking, it was a Mauser rifle. The figure that was Hans also vanished from the scene, replaced by someone more ominous than him. Standing several meters away from Fritz was a small canine boy in winter clothing. His fur was white as a ghost, with shining brown eyes looking innocently at the panther.

Without any anger in his voice, the young voice cracked out. "Sir, why did you kill me?"

It would have been an understatement to say that Fritz was frightened. He did not answer the child immediately, the fear locked up his voice box and his body shivered, the cold not being the reason.

"Sir, why did you kill me?" the ghostly pup asked again.

Fritz croaked "I-I didn't want to."

The pup replied in a chilling whisper. "But you did anyway." It was then that in the middle of his forehead, a crimson bullet hole appeared.

"I didn't want to do it! I was ordered too and they would've done it anyway! I'm sorry!" he pleaded, his eyes struggling to hold back the tears.

"You're sorry?" The pup walked forward slowly, blood oozing out from the bullet hole and stained the child's face. Fritz scooted away yelping, grabbing the rifle out of habit. With every step, the boy did not let up his gaze on the German. He spoke again, "Sorry does not erase the fact that you are a butcher."

"No I am not! If I wasn't ordered-"

"Which does not matter. You followed it and did it anyway. Innocent blood stains your hands Fritz Becker." The kid's eyes, once glowing brown gems, soon transformed into the color of blood and the voice became deep like a grown man's. "That is a crime you cannot escape from."

Fritz put up a hand. "Please! For the love of god, please tell me how to fix this! I do not want to be a butcher!"

"It is too late for you. You cast the die of evil without knowing the deadly game for which you were thrown into. Conscience, as good as yours may be, cannot give you reprieve. You killed me and now for the sins of you and your kind," the child's paw rose to reach after Fritz, "punishment must be applied."

"No! Get away from me please!" Fritz screamed, scooting back as fast as he could, but the white paw continued to advance onto his head. His arm raised the rifle to the kid's head, but his hands shook and his eyes were watery from his sobbing. "Get away now!" Closing his eyes and letting out an anguished cry, he pulled the trigger.

Fritz gasped and woke up to the sound of a blast, as though the shot he fired was the thunderclap of Zeus raining down on the earth. Sweating profusely through his black fur, he realized he was back in Marlene's bedroom; it was a dream. It was the same nightmare that replayed for the past several months with the other ones, but it trumped all of them in their emotional impact.

But the blast was not a dream as another one fired off in the night. Fritz slammed to the deck on the floor, covering his head with his paws. He thought, "Was that artillery fire?" Sure enough, more blasts followed along with a whirling siren. The last time he heard that noise was when he was near an airfield in Russia. It could be only one thing. "So, they are finally bombing us."

Fritz swung his head to see Marlene bursting from her bathroom in a roughed up brown robe. "Get up and get out of here Fritz!" She threw his pants at him and without hesitation, he threw on enough clothes to get outside. "Oh my god, they're bombing Bremen!" she cried out, scared for her life. It was not the first time bombs came near Bremen, but they attacked the docks. This was the first time they attacked the actual city.

Fritz held Marlene close to him as they fled out of the apartment. Many other occupants were already rushing outside to the shelters, some in robes and nightwear like them two, and some just in underwear. It looked like it was a panic scene straight out of War of the Worlds, screaming men, women, and children seeking shelter away from the danger. Fritz seen this before in soldiers, but not with civilians and this was a terrible first experience.

On the ground floor, the roar of massive airplane engines could be heard through their ears, obviously it was from the bombers in the sky. Along with those engines came the sound of whistling objects that ended in blasts that shook the ground. Like a tidal wave, the explosions turned louder as the bomber formation continued east. Fritz could see in the distance the fires of the bomb damage.

Remembering that his family was still in an area without a bomb shelter, he looked at Marlene. "Please listen right now, go to the shelter without me. I got to get to my family."

"But!-"

"Don't argue with me right now. Go!" He kissed her and he ran off into the night, Marlene calling out his name, but he could not hear her as the bombs continued to fall. His leg was aching in pain, overworked from the physical activity and the wound still a thin knife against his healing muscles. But run on he did, trying to reach his family home that was 4 city blocks away.

Unfortunately for him, the bombs finally reached his section. A gigantic explosion went off to his 1'o clock, instantly killing a couple of soldiers running to the shelter. Another bomb destroyed a shop building, glass becoming deadly shrapnel that bit into fur and muscle. His breaths became quick, his veins bulging in pressure to keep blood flowing through his tiring muscles. He leaped over obstacles and brushed past men who fled and looked at him like a mad man. In a way, he was mad.

Even during this state of panic, his mind kept coming back to the nightmare he had a few minutes before. Fritz was normally not a superstitious panther, but that nightmare felt different. Like a sinister Nostradamus, the wolf child, demon, or whatever it was that spoke to him at the end sounded like a prophet speaking of the future. Was his punishment imminent? Was it to be his death? Certainly he was not new to the danger, his fear of dying was subdued long ago in battle; you would be driven insane if you fretted over it. But what if the punishment was something else? What if...

"Oh no" Fritz gasped as he was a block away. Using his last ounces of energy, he ran around the last corner that led to Achimerstrasse. The Becker home was the last house on the left and all the lights were still on. Like an Olympic athlete, he dashed to his location. He knew now that the punishment decreed by his nightmare was the death of his loved ones, his family. "Come on mother, father, get out!" he yelled, seeing no figures coming out of the door. The bombs struck a building behind him with a resounding crash and it was as though he was escaping from a tsunami wave.

A ray of hope cleared for Fritz as he saw his mother coming outside in nightclothes, looking back inside to check on the others. Perhaps this fate can be avoided and he can lead his family to an air-raid shelter. Almost closer to the house, Fritz stretched out his palm and yelled out "Momma!" She heard him and looked right at him smiling. But that was the last sight he ever saw of her.

As though time slowed down for him, Fritz watched as the house he was running to, the home that he grew up in since he was born, explode in fire and rubble. The roof caved in and the supporting walls crumbled toward the center of the rubble, emitting a cloud of black smoke. He froze, far too shocked to even utter a word. He knew his parents would die someday, but not in this brutal of a fashion. Not only did his mother and father explode into pieces, but so did Anna and Hans. Fritz and Sophia, the twins, were now the only existing Beckers hailing from the city of Bremen.

However, his mind would not see this logic. Fritz panicked and cried out "Momma! Papa! Anna!" He did not want to accept their death, he wanted to believe they were all stuck underneath rubble. He ran to the house and wanted to find the bodies. However, he would not get that chance. Just as he got there, another bomb destroyed the house to his immediate right and a large chunk of brick smacked him in the head. For the second time, he fell to the ground, but unconscious. As the panther lay there, the infernos caused by the bombers consumed Bremen, punishing all within it for crimes for which many did not know.

---

The air was full of smoke, a very sooty smell that clogged the nostrils with pollution. Reminded that the smoke also included the ashes of the dead, Fritz had no trouble imagining the smell to be similar to what Dante experienced in his journey through Perdition. From all that he experienced, he was also a visitor of hell from Russia to his very home in Bremen.

He was sitting on a broken piece of stone on a street, resting his leg and keeping a wet rag to his head. The brick pierced his flesh and gave him a bad gash across the right side of his face. He was only lucky that it did not kill him, but in some recess of his brain, he wished it did for lady luck had been unkind to him as of late in worse ways.

A hand caressed his shoulder and he looked up to see Marlene, her orange and white face smiling down on him, but with a pained look on her face rather than the glowing one which greeted him before. "I was worried you know" she murmured.

Fritz sighed and nodded. "I am aware, but-"

She said, "You don't have to say more, I understand. I would've done the same thing." Marlene sat down next to him on another stone and laid her head on his shoulder. They both looked with grim faces as medics took out corpses and wounded out on stretchers. She looked at him and asked, "Is this what the front was like?"

He wasn't looking at her when he replied, "No. In ways it is worse and in other ways", he waved at the scene before them, "it is tame. At least we had a way to fight back and we were trained against it. Here...nobody could do anything to fight and stay alive." He picked up a piece of soft brick, which he crushed in his hand. "Life is just so fragile I come to realize."

"Yet remember to the last that while there is life there is hope" she said to him sincerely. Fritz smirked, knowing the line from one of Dickens' stories, the subject which brought them together many years ago. It was a simple line, but he knew it was truth. He squeezed her hand, feeling secure by her touch to the ray of hope she emanated in the gloom of the moment.

He remarked to her, "You know, I am imagining a work of another kind right now."

"And what is that Fritz?" She asked.

"When I was on the train, I was reading a book on Heracles to keep myself occupied. Ever since...that event, I wondered whether I was driven mad like him to commit evil. I wondered whether this was the price I had to pay for my wrongdoings."

Marlene rubbed his cheek and frowning. She knew that what he did was a terrible event, but it was something he could not avoid. No matter how many times she could say that he shouldn't blame himself for it, he still wore his sin around his neck. She said, "I highly doubt there will be a Eurystheus to give you a road to atonement."

That he could not debate. "Probably not in physical form, no. But if given the chance, I will seek it." He sound resolute and decided.

"You don't have to, you know."

"No Marlene", he shook his head, "If I don't somehow, I will never forgive myself. I can't forget nor forgive myself for what I done to that child nor forgive these men for supporting murder like that."

"And do you expect to somehow bring justice on your own?"

"I'd be very naïve if I said yes. It will be difficult and I may have to wait a long time, but I will find a way Marlene", he held a hand over his heart, "lord help me I will." He looked at her and hugged her tightly and she gave one in return.

She looked into his blue eyes and told him, "When this war ends, come back to me alive. Come back to me as a complete man Fritz, that is all I ask of you." He didn't know how to reply to that and she didn't expect him too. Looking around, she got up and he followed suit. Noticing how he was grimacing from the leg, she put his arm around her shoulders, making him use her as his support. "Come on, let's go home". He nodded and started to walk wobbly toward her home. He didn't know whether he could get vengeance or justice for the wolf pup or the others like him who suffered from the fanaticism of his people, but as he walked through the ruins of Bremen, he will find a way.