Nope. Nothing again.

I woke to the sound of a car’s door slamming shut. I watched a vehicle start and then drive down the road. About an hour later, Franziska came out and untied me, completely trusting me not to tackle and kill her.

I got up and walked in a complete circle. It felt really nice to be free from my restraints. And even better to walk more than 4 feet. “Kom schon, Herr Schmidt.”

This was the first time I saw her outside of her Hitler Youth uniform and Dutch braids. She wore shorts and a shirt in matching white. The shorts had miniature swastikas on them, and the shirt had one giant one in the center. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, and her lips were flesh-colored, no longer glossy or pink. She had no footwear, so she carefully walked as she guided me to her hair.

We stepped into her home, and I was greeted by a black and brown dachshund wiggled its tail while it smelled me.

“What’s its name?” I’ve never met such a quiet wiener dog before.

“ Schnitzel,” Franziska giggled. “Komm schon. Upstairs.”

We passed several portraits of Hitler, some propaganda pictures, and then a picture of a military man and his unit. Almost everyone in the picture had identical uniforms. Behind them was a massive artillery piece. A printed date in the bottom left reads “March 01, 1918 - Nach Westen gehen.”

Franziska notices my pause and points to one of the two dozen soldiers in the picture. “Meine Vater. My dad.” Her dad had a cigarette burning between his lips as he smiled and waved at the camera. He looked young when compared to the other artillery men but twice as seasoned. He was also dressed differently, with puttees, a satchel of stick grenades, and a painted Stahlhelm. “Your dad was a stormtrooper?”

I was grossly infused with the war that was supposed to prevent this one. Many of my kin served in it. Franziska nodded and then urged me to continue.

We passed two closed doors and stepped inside the room at the end of the hall. More signs of Hitler Youth tainted this room, and my stomach flipped. There were two uniforms sprawled out on two different beds. They were like Franziska’s but with black shorts. “You have brothers? Where are they?”

“Die Ostfront,” Franziska says and refuses to offer anything else.

She picks out some clothes and folds them over her arms. Then she tells me to take a shower so she can iron. The bathroom was organized, clean, and full of signs of female activity. Some bras were laid over the sink and some panties over the shower. For the first time since crash landing, I felt another emotion that wasn’t caused by panic or pain… it was embarrassing. I regarded them like toxic waste and placed them aside before stepping into the shower.

I watched the dirty water drain down. My eyes closed as I rinsed my hair and slid my hands over my naked body. A hot shower had never felt this good, but I knew I couldn’t linger in here for long.

When I dried off, Franziska knocked twice and carefully opened the door. “Here are your clothes. Tell me if they fit.”

I took the clothes she was offering and put them on. They’re a little tight but not terrible. When I step out, I find Franziska waiting there for me. “Sehr gut aussehend!” She exclaims.

“What?”

“You look really nice!” She runs a hand through my hair, fixing it how she likes it. “Now come. Let’s practice some German~!”

…

…

I did everything in my power to find out where I was in Germany, but all my efforts were met with failure. Finally, when the golden hour came, Franziska led me back to the barn but trusted me enough not to trap me there.

“I’ll come back later tonight,” she promises and then gives me some bread and a jam-filled jar. “We’ll walk around and practice some more.”

There’s no fighting her, so I agree without having to fight any ****. And so, later that night, I am once again confronted by Franziska. She’s wearing shorts and a blouse that covers her arms. “Hallo, Herr Schmidt.”

“Hallo, meine Freundin.” I stammer. She smiles and blushes.

“In this case, it would be ‘mein Freund’ because you just called me your girlfriend.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling a little awkward now. “Let’s get moving.”

“Ja,” she grabs my hand and breaks into a light jog past her house and up a gravel road. We split into the inky night in silence. We appear to be in good shape because neither of us is panting when we reach the top. However, there’s all that excitement I felt when racing for the top is all for nothing. Like any other night raid, I’m greeted by a vast land of nothing. Franziska looks up. “Klare Nacht...”

I look up, too, and squint. “I don’t think there will be a raid tonight.”

Franziska regarded me but nodded without question. “Komme. Walk with me.”

I followed her steps, but neither of us spoke until we came to a clearing that offered a vague outline of a village in the distance. I could only tell it was a village because of the outlines of the buildings in the blue light. “It’s so dark,” I remark.

“No one dares to have the lights on anymore,” Franziska’s voice is sad. “You Allied savages might kill us in our sleep.”

I don’t say anything, not even apologize. Germany bombed England after France fell and combed over Rotterdam with bombers destroying everything before that. I know two wrongs don’t make a right, but I wasn’t going to bend for some hypocrite, either.

Franziska sits down at the edge and begins weeping unexpectedly. I shift my legs and lower myself down. I ask a dumb question and ask what’s wrong. “Alles,” she says over and over, gesturing to the village. “Ihr Bastarde! Ihr Bastarde!”

I offer my hand, but she shoots up and shoves me when I touch her shoulder. “Fass mich nicht an, Schwein!”

“What’s gotten into you!?” I shout. “You brought me out here, and now you’re acting all…all weird!”

Further confusing me, Franziska loses all moxy and falls to her knees. “Meine Freunde…Meine Freunde…”

“Hey,” I try to think of something to say, but my mind is gone. “Franziska…”

“Meine Brüder…”

“Franziska…”

“Vater…”

“Franziska!”

“Was? Was ist es?”

“What are we doing out here?”

Her eyes are black as they stare at the earth. “I didn’t mean to become emotional,” she sniffs. “It’s difficult to see. The places I love in the dark. **** to smudge the lights I thought were beautiful at night.”

Franziska shook her head, letting out a shaking breath. “You would have found it beautiful too.”

I look up at the inky blackness. The vague outlines. Germany. I then look at Franziska as she raises. She has the face of a woman but the body of a girl. Her eyes are gloomy, her lips are down in a frown, and her shoulders are loose as she studies me. This was a German, and I had to tell myself that. I had portrayed this place as filled with animals, but as I stared at Franziska, I remembered we’re all humans.

What does she see in me, though? Does she view an American? Or am I a savage animal in her eyes?

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I wanted to show you more, but we have nothing to admire.”

I stare at Franziska. I feel my heart beating quicken. My palms turn clammy…