The air was warm; it was a humid summer day. Levi lay behind a bush, holding his rifle under his arm. A bead of sweat dripped down his face as he waited for an enemy to walk by. His ears were alert to every sound in the forest: a deer walked over a branch and snapped it as the birds in the trees chirped, and the leaves rustled in the wind. His body was restless. His mind was churning with of thoughts of anger and hatred towards the Germans, who had murdered his family in a village raid.

He waited. He did not know the time, but he watched the sun travel its familiar way across the sky until it was mid afternoon. Finally, he heard the crunch of leaves by something far bigger than a rabbit. His body tensed. His thoughts raced. Should he kill the enemy or just wound him? He decided to merely injure the enemy in case he was someone important. He readied his rifle, and watched for the enemy.

After a few moments of tense silence, the enemy came into his sight. He was an average man, with blond hair peeking out from beneath a helmet. He wore the German uniform. Finally. Levi took aim carefully at the man’s leg and shot. With a cry like a hawk, the man fell. Levi stood cautiously, still holding his rifle, and crept toward his victim. The man’s head turned, and Levi was met with a familiar face - his best friend of six years.

“Levi!” the man said.

At the same time, Levi gasped, “Hans!” The two men stared at each other in silence. They hadn’t seen each other in years. Hans had always been tall, but he had become muscular and strong. He still had the same blue eyes and blond hair of a German. The scar on his cheek from a stick fight that ended badly remained, although it was faded. Still in shock, the old friends looked each other over until, suddenly, Hans grasped his wounded leg and moaned in pain. His face glistened with sweat.

Levi was overcome by memories of talking and playing with his old friend mixed with horrible memories of the raid on his village. He grasped his rifle tighter. Lost in his thoughts, he became a boy again. He saw the two of them playing war in his backyard with sticks as guns. He saw Hans tease him about the girl he liked, Marissa. He saw them throwing rocks at neighbors’ doors and running away. He saw them playing tag in the woods. He saw Hans running up to him, crying, explaining that his parents were taking him to Germany. He remembered saying goodbye as a ten year old as Hans moved back to his parents’ homeland. He remembered feeling lonely and empty when his friend left, but then he remembered coming home from school only to find horror.

The sky was red, and black ashes had blanketed the entire village. The normally cheerful houses, once white and blue and green, all became black and burnt. The shades of blue in the sky and green on the ground were all overcome by shades of gray. He had seen this and ran to his house, desperate to find his family, only to find more ashes. His house and family were gone. He sat among the ashes and wept for hours, not caring that his school uniform was getting dirty. He remembered being told that the Germans came to raid his small village. They had taken his caring mother who never complained, his hardworking father who was always tired but was never harsh, his fun-loving younger sister, whom he protected fiercely. He remembered the feeling of deep grief, a hole in his heart, a hole that had never been filled. His old anger flooded back. He was overwhelmed with hatred for the Nazis.

Levi aimed at the man, the enemy.

He hardened his heart and prepared to shoot, but he made the mistake of looking into the man’s face. His eyes were the same striking blue eyes that had looked into his own when they told each other that they would always be friends even when they could no longer see each other. Now they were wide and frightened, in complete terror as they stared at Levi, who stared back for a long time, his hands trembling. Finally, he threw down his rifle, and he dropped to the ground. He put his head in his hands.

“I missed you when you moved away,” Levi said. “You said that you would never succumb to the German way of thinking. Why did you?” He suddenly became aware of someone near him, and he looked up.

Hans stood above him, using Levi’s rifle as a crutch.

“Because,” he answered. “Hitler is the one true leader. He will make Germany great again. Hitler has helped us get rid of dirty Jews like you and your family.”

He smiled, though not in a friendly way. His once kind eyes took on a vicious look. Levi looked away, staring at the ground in shock. Dimly, he felt cold metal against his head.

“Heil Hitler.”

A gunshot.