Fredrich had a shocked look on his face. He reached out and took Otto’s arm. “Your father did all this to you? Why? We did nothing wrong.”
“You don’t know him like I do,” Otto said almost pleadingly. There were tears in his eyes as he spoke. “He didn’t want to listen. My father has always insisted on duty above everything. He keeps urging me to be strong, to stand up for myself and to be ready when duty calls.” He sighed and wiped his eyes. “I guess I have been a great disappointment to him. I just don’t want to be pushy or to bully other people. I’ve tried to be more assertive, but it never seems to be enough,” he said.
“Yes, but why this? Why beat you?”
“Because that’s the way he said he was brought up. Remember, he was a product of the Hitler Youth — a member of the master race,” Otto cried out in anguish. He lowered his head for a moment, then slowly looked up at his friend. “I’m not like most other guys,” he said. “I don’t think I would fit the profile of one of them,” he said slowly.
Fredrich watched his friend carefully. Otto had always been a quiet person, but a good friend. Fredrich had always been impressed with his intelligence. Otto always had perfect scores on his tests, but he never tried to show off or act superior. On several occasions, Otto had helped him understand things he didn’t get in class. He was Fredrich’s friend and needed his help. Fredrich had always been strong and pretty self sufficient. Now it was time to make a choice.
“People aren’t alike. The strengths of one aren’t the strengths of another. You may not be strong physically or in the way you deal with others. Your strength is in your mind and in the loyalty you have to your friends,” Fredrich said. “I don’t know, but in some ways that’s a much better strength than blind obedience. Besides, we both have a lot more growing up to do. We don’t know what all our strengths are yet.” He squeezed Otto’s shoulder. “The things they are teaching us are wrong. I know we have to keep going, but at the right time we’ll make it end. No matter what, we will do it together,” he said.
Otto looked at his friend and smiled faintly. Fredrich had always been there for him, and was still there. He would trust his judgment. “Yes, together. Thank you Fredrich.”
Just then the door swung open. Otto’s father looked round and became enraged when he saw the two together. “So both of you disobey!” he nearly screamed. He took a step forward and Otto cringed.
Fredrich stood up and pointed his finger. “Halt or Colonel Müller shall hear of this!” he said firmly standing ramrod straight.
The mention of the Colonel’s name stopped the man dead in his tracks. “And what has he to do with this?”
“The colonel approved of our change of plan last night. He realized, like we did that because we are friends and well known among our classmates, it appeared strange that we were no longer speaking. It drew attention to our mission and could have caused people to question what may be happening. So we are now to continue our friendship as before,” he said, placing his hands on his hips. “Otto was carrying out his orders. But you didn’t ask questions and you didn’t care. Instead you took things in your own hands. Now you have jeopardized our mission by trying to instill what you think is discipline in your son. Do you think people will not ask questions when they see his face? What if he had to go to the hospital? The Party requires more of us than blind obedience. It also requires us to think and plan. You seem to forget this!” he nearly shouted as he pointed directly at the man’s face.
Otto’s father blinked. He was not used to being scolded, especially by a boy. But he remembered his training as he was a child and it was the same as he remembered. But this demanded a response. “And who are you to point your finger at me?”
Fredrich knew his bluff would either make it or fail in his next words. He pressed on. “We are the next generation of the Führer’s soldiers. We are the ones to build a new Germany. We are a part of the team which will change the world’s order. And we cannot accept failure or incompetence!” he said firmly.
Otto’s father stood back. It was just as it had been in the 1930s when he was 15. Like his own father, he had to accept it. The young man was right. He had nearly blown everything. That was a stronger slap in the face than being upbraided by a child. He looked at Fredrick and then his son. He shook his head. “I will be back later on,” he said as he turned and walked out the door.
The two young men watched him leave. They heard a car start and pull away. Only then did Fredrich hear Otto let out a breath. “How did you do that?” Otto asked. It was amazing to see his friend take on his own father, much less win the argument.
Fredrich also let out a breath. “I just hope I don’t have to do it again,” he said. “The trick is for us to act like they want us to act. We have to make believe we completely agree with what they are telling us. We have to act proud and firm just like we have seen in the old movies about the Hitler Youth. We have to spout their own language as if we totally accept what is about to happen. Then, when we are ready to get away or if we can prevent whatever they plan from happening, we will be in a much better position to get things done.”
“I’m not sure I can do that,” Otto said shyly.
“But you must, Otto! We both have to be perfect little Nazis until the time comes, otherwise they won’t trust us and they will always watch us. I know neither of us really wants to be around these people, but our fathers can still make us go. I don’t know what their plan is yet, but I do know it must be soon. Both the General and the Colonel are getting very anxious. Once we find out, we can decide then what we can do and how. Till then we just have to play the game.”
Otto nodded. “I guess if you can, I can. Let’s just not forget which side we are on,” he said with a grin.
Fredrich helped his friend to his feet. “Come on, let me get something for your face,” he said as he led his friend to the bathroom.
The gloves and vice grips tested positive for nitric acid. The serial numbers on the weapons found were not registered. Already Herr Mantz was in violation of a number of laws which would land him in prison for a long time. Dresner had assigned teams to follow Mantz 24 hours a day. His goal now was the motivation for the theft and to possibly recover the acid. After two days they had still turned up nothing. Then an idea hit him. What about those SS uniforms? He had not known Mantz was in the SS. He called Betz into his office.
“Anything new, Herr Major?” Betz asked when he entered.
“Sergeant, did you recall seeing anything in Mantz’s record indicating he was in the SS during the war?”
Betz thought a moment and shook his head. “As a matter of fact, I don’t,” he said. “It doesn’t mean much. After the war most people tried to hide their wartime duties.”
Dresner nodded. “I agree, but maybe in this case we need to find out a little more. Call Corporal Mahler in Berlin and see if he can dig some information out of the archives. It may be nothing, but you know I am always a little suspicious,” he said with a grin.
Betz nodded. “Jawohl, Herr Major. I’m sure Mahler will be his usual efficient self.” Corporal Mahler had been the company armorer and had always made sure their weapons were maintained perfectly, and their ammunition accounted for to the round. He had returned to Berlin and had been given a job helping the Americans sort through the old Nazi records. Now he was at the National Archives. “I’ll bring them to you as soon as I get them,” Betz said.
Dresner returned to his work. He was having that strange feeling like he got at the end of the war that something was getting ready to happen. What if this was something more sinister? He knew there were still Germans who felt the war should have continued — although those were now few and far between. It could also be a Soviet move against something close by. But this was far from their normal operations. The SS uniforms continued to upset him. Dresner had detested the SS even during the war. They were dangerous and if there was a group active, it would be a very bad thing. Then he thought about the Olympics coming in two years. Could that acid have been used to sabotage some buildings? The more he thought about it, the more his head began to ache. He picked up the telephone. A man answered after only a few rings.