Housed and Fed

“Next,” The call came out. The boy stepped up, he had just turned 14 a few days ago. Sweat trickled down his spin as he looked around at the men surrounding him. They were all much older and their faces didn’t hide the dread they faced. The man sitting at the table looked at the boy. “Hmm, very young but everyone is needed. You understand what your leader asks of you?” The boy nodded his head down towards the ground, his shoulders heavy. Unable to speak with fear. The man at the table leaned forward and set his elbows on the table. “Good, for this is the last opportunity to make him proud.” The boy weakly nodded and said, “Yes sir.” The man sat back and pulled another sheet of paper from his binder. “Name.” The boy gulped as he moved his blonde hair from his sweaty forehead. “Johan.” The man wrote quietly. “Full name.” “Johan Fischer,” muttered the boy in a defensive, nervous tone. “Age”. Johan sniffled a little. “14”. The man smiled, “Ahh a very young one, your leader will be so proud of your service. Do you know the city well?” Johan nodded his response, returning his eyes to the floor. “You’ll be stationed on the west side.” Johan shuttered at this thought the west side was a mine field. No one going there ever returned. “You’ll be stationed with group 6 and will be tasked with shell running for their mortars.” Johan stepped back a little as the thought made him dizzy. “Is this not acceptable?” Johan met the man’s gaze and shook his head. “I’m happy to hear that, or Meier here would have taken care of your worries.” The man pointed to a man to his left. The man standing there smiled as he shifted the machine gun on his chest. “Take one of the bands out of the stash over to the right and apply it to your upper left arm. Then report immediately to the west end. Do you understand?” Johan nodded. “We are all set then.” The man stood and raised his right arm, “Sieg Heil!” the man said. Johan raised his right arm in response. He turned just in time to go grab his arm band as the tears started pouring down his face. He wanted to be brave, he wanted to be proud but he was scared. He knew that all this meant was death. His tears fell like the bombs on Berlin.