Mother used to work at the bakery. When I was very little she used to come home with a treat for me once a week. It would usually be some sort of delicious muffin or cookie still warm from the oven. But the bakery was torn down years ago for some reason. My father tells me that it was the Jews who stole our money and tore down the shop. But mother says that it was because people were losing their jobs and money due to the war-effort and even post-war. To tell you the truth I don’t really know what to believe.

Today father is leaving for most of the day. I believe that it is one of his S.S. meetings that he must attend, but this means he and mother expect me to do his part of the work around the house today. I don’t enjoy it very much, its work meant for a man and it’s very hard for me. Mother tells me that it’s alright and to take it slow. But father tells me that I should take pride in being part of the Aryan race. A true German never complains.

“Wilhelm, come downstairs, you have work to do.” Called Mother

“Coming mother.” I said

“Well make haste Wilhelm, your father has already left and you need to get work.”

I quickly dressed, and hurried downstairs to see mother waiting for me with an axe in her hand. It startled me at first, and then she said:

“You’ll start with the lumber today.”

I followed her outside to the stump where we cut up firewood. She started telling me what to do, but I already knew it, so my mind started to drift off into the scenery of the distance. I truly love the site of the sweet countryside and the vast forests in the distance. If father is right about one thing, it’s that Germany is the most beautiful country in the world. I hear crazy talk of the beautiful and great America, but nothing can compare to the true beauty of the fatherland. And then all of a sudden, mid-thought, I felt a hard smack across my face. It was mother, she was furious that I wasn’t listening.

“Wilhelm have some damn respect for your elders and listen. I’m trying to teach you how to do this right.” Said mother

“But…you’re a women.” I said. Father tells me that it is the men who do the hard work and the women just do the cooking and the cleaning. I guess mother doesn’t agree with father on that one because when I said that, mother gave me another hard smack on the cheek that was already searing with pain. Then she stormed off, back to the kitchen and I got to work.

Then after an hour or so, mother came back outside heading towards me with an empty pale.

“I need you to go to one of those Jew farmers and get me a pale of milk.”

“But what if he doesn’t give it to me?”

“Then you teach him what family you come from and who your father is!”

“Ok, mother.”

So I took the pale and headed off. The Jews live a good distance outside of town now thanks to my father. About a year back father and some S.S. soldiers stormed all of the Jewish houses and made them leave town with nothing but the clothes on their back. I remember father coming home very strong and proud, as if he was saving the world. I never actually saw how it happened but from what my father told me of it; it made me very proud to be his son.

When I got to the Jews house it was hard to tell if it was even a house, it just looked like a pile of rubble. I didn’t see anyone right away, so I started to walk towards the house. When I got there, I knocked but there was no answer. Then all of a sudden, a boy, just a little older than me, walked from around the corner.

“Can I help you?” he asked

“Uhh…I’m Wilhelm.” I said nervously

“Ha-ha, I’m Abe. Can I help you with something?”

“Oh, yes. My mother needs a pale of milk.”

“Well do you have the money for it?”

“How do you mean by?” I said utterly baffled

“Well if you would like to buy a pale milk then-“

I quickly interrupted him saying “Pay!? Do you know what family I come from?”

“Well I don’t care very much of what family you are from, you still need to pay.” He said proudly.

I didn’t really know how to respond, it usually is the right thing to pay for whatever it is you would like to purchase, but mother and father tell me that when it comes to the Jews, it doesn’t matter. They say that they owe it to us. I was very confused so I just scurried away. I started to walk home: I knew mother must know what to do.

Once I got home I saw mother right away, she was outside hanging cloths. I went up to her with an empty pale, and told her the story. She had a very shocked look on her face, and all she said was ‘Just wait ‘till your father hears of this.’ Then mother put me back to work, and we waited for father to get home.

Later on the day, mother and I were cleaning the house. Then, out of nowhere, father came barging into the house, drunk and singing our national anthem. He grabbed mother and began kissing her intensely. But, mother stopped him to tell him the story. He was furious. He then started out the door and said angrily “Come with me boy.” I thought he was going to take me outside to beat me, but, instead we got into his car and drove away. We were heading towards the Jews house.

Once we got there he got out of the car and stormed towards the front door fiercely. I got out and followed him closely. He knocked so hard on the door that it almost broke down. It was the boy’s father who answered the door. Before the man could say ‘Hello’ my father delivered a punishing punch to the face. The man got knocked right off his feet. That’s when I saw Abe walk into the room with his little sister to see what was happening.

“How dare you disrespect my family in such a matter!” yelled father in a thunderous voice

“What do you mean, I did nothing.”

“My boy came here today, asking for a pale of milk, and you refused.”

Then man glanced at his son and said sternly:

“It is rightfully ours, and you need to pay if you want something from us.”

Father grew even more furious now, so he pulled out his shiny new Lugar, and walked towards Abe. Father asked me if he was the one, and I nodded. Then without any further questions, he shot the boy right through the head. I don’t know…I guess father knows best.