Chapter 3
SERGEI VOLKOV
26th January 1933
Dear Diary,
I don’t think I can go back home. My sisters want me dead; my mother is on their side for sure. I’m in Germany early. Nikolai wished me the best and gave me some roubles to get through the next few weeks. With Germany’s economy, I hope I get through a day.
The weather was not in my favour today, dark grey clouds loomed over my head and fought their way over to block any memory of sun. I made my way out of the gloomy train station and walked towards the town centre, where I found a group of, what looked like, Young Pioneers, with their scout-scarves. Though, I doubted they’d have those. I slowly stepped towards one of the oldest of the boys, who looked isolated from the group, sitting by a fountain with his nose in a book. Blond, slicked-back hair, strong eyebrows and piercing blue eyes. He quickly sensed my approach and scanned me thoroughly with his eyes.
“Hallo! My name is Sergei, I’m new around here. Can you help me? What’s your name?” I tried my best to keep a friendly smile on my face, holding out a hand, which the boy firmly grasped.
“Klaus Schmidt. How old are you, 10? Where are your parents?”
The curves on my lips quickly drooped.
“13. I’m 13. What about you? My mother doesn’t mind me wandering around, as long as I don’t bother her.”
Klaus’ eyes light up at my question.
“15. Guess we’re in the same boat then, huh? My mother is... Well... she might as well be dead.”
“Huh? Wha-” He raised his hand, silencing me, so I assumed I shouldn’t question any further, “So, what’s this group of yours? Can I join?”
A sense of pride entered his voice, “We’re the Hitlerjugend. You’re a bit young for us, you’d have to join the Jungvolk.”
His eyes scanned over me again. “Your accent is different. You’re not German, are you?”
“Uh… No, do I have to be?” I quickly averted my eyes, instantly guilty of my own heritage.
He grabbed my arm and started to pull me along the street, “Well, probably. I’ll give you training, if you’re really interested. But you really shouldn’t announce being an immigrant so openly – you’re lucky you told me.”
I quickly looked around me, unsure of where he was taking me. “I’m not an immigrant, just a tourist! I just wanted if you can you lead me to a hotel!”
Klaus stopped and burst into chuckles. “Hotel? We don’t have many of those left, it’s not worth searching. You can stay over at mine. My mother won’t mind – she probably won’t notice.”
He dropped me off at a small house and pushed me towards the bright blue door.
“Go on, it’s open.”
I tested the door and surely enough, it opened easily. I stepped in and stared at the state of the living room. A woman – most likely his mother – was sprawled out on the sofa, mumbling under her breath, bottles littered around her unconscious body.
“Ignore her. She’s ‘finishing all the alcohol in the house’. It’s best if you don’t let her see you, or me.”
Quickly, I averted my eyes and followed him up the stairs to a small, forgotten room. It was littered with spiderwebs and dust, but the bed was neatly made, with a soft, grey cover.
“This is my brother’s room – used to be. You can sleep here. We haven’t opened this door in a few years, so it’s not the best condition.”
My arms instinctively wrapped around him, “I’m sorry you have to live like this.”
He pushed me back instantly, “I don’t need sympathy from you. I don’t know you.”
Jumping onto the bed, my lips curled up again, then my hand patted the spot beside me. “I want to know you! Do you like reading? What do you read?”
Klaus sighed in annoyance, before sitting beside me. “Politics are interesting, I read political books, I guess. For example-”
I quickly perked up, “Oh, oh! Let me guess, Marx?”
His face turned towards me, filled with complete disgust, “Marx? Seriously? No. Have you read Mein Kampf? It explains everything Marx can’t.”
Tilting my head, I giggled nervously, “Uhm… Who’s that by? I haven’t heard of it.”
“Adolf Hitler.”
*~*
KLAUS SCHMIDT
How could this boy be so ignorant! I had to teach him the truth. He would be my first student and I’d be his saviour. I could see his nervous, shifty nature. He was weak – but not for long.
“He’s not a communist. He’s much more. Much better. You’re not a commie, are you? If you are, you’d better get reading, that ideology of yours is a disease.”
His dull, brown eyes fiercely met mine, “A disease worth spreading!”
What an idiot. This was going to be an interesting day. I rested a hand on his shoulder, just to give him some security. “So, you’re a Russian? One of those Soviets, hm?”
He gave a short, curt nod, “Yeah, you could say. My parents were in the revolution! They changed Russia for the better! Well… Until Stalin came around…”
“Isn’t Stalin your ‘oh-so-great’ leader?”
“He’s not great at all! He’s a failure! He thinks socialism in one country is possible. In a capitalist world, communism will collapse!”
“Good. Clearly proves it doesn’t work.”
Sergei’s ears were dusted with red, “Capitalism doesn’t work in one country either.”
Scoffing, I opened my shoulder bag, tossing my book at him. “Read this, then come back to me.”
Annoyingly, he responded with a smirk, tossing his own book at me. Some sort of collected works from Marx. “Read this, then!”
“Fine.” I was most definitely never allowing myself to be caught reading this.
I decided it was time to leave him be, before he tried to brainwash him with his communism. Shutting the door behind me, I made my way down the stairs again, kicking over one of that old woman’s bottles. Scheiße.
Her hair, stained red with wine and coated in crumbs, shuffled around as she awoke. She raised her head and tossed another bottle my way. “Get out of my sight, you waste of space. Why do you have to look just like your father? Why couldn’t you have died? Why must it have been him. You’re not even grateful for him, are you?”
“He was weak. I’m nothing like him. Be useful for once, he’s not coming back.”
The daft woman stumbled in my direction, raising her fist, which just about missed me. A small push and she lost her balance.
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Deuteronomy 15:7
“If among you, one of your brothers should become poor, in any of your towns within your land that the Lord your God is giving you, you shall not harden your heart or shut your hand against your poor brother.”