Hitler inspecting a group of Hitler Jugend, earlier during the Rally.
September 14th – 1935 Nuremberg.
”Look Frieda, Look!
” Usually quite calm and collected, the childish excitement in her brother’s voice almost made Frieda laugh. Almost, but not quite. One did not make jokes or laugh at the person, which was the reason for her brother’s exuberance.
“It’s the Führer Frieda, it’s Adolf Hitler!
” As the Führer passed by their seats, even though he was far away, Frieda could see her brother almost instinctively stand to attention, his arm flying into the salute so fast, that it almost seemed unreal. From time to time, her brother’s mindless devotion frightened Frieda. She couldn’t understand how one person, whoever he was, could hold such a power over people. People he didn’t even know. She kept such thoughts to herself however. It would be very, very dangerous for her and her whole family, should it ever be known, that deep in her heart, she doubted the government and the path it had chosen for Germany. She might only be fourteen years of age, but she was far from stupid and just as well as she felt something wasn’t quite right about the way the people adored the government and most of all the Führer, just as well did she know that she had to bury such feelings deep and never let anyone suspect they even existed.
She straightened and raised her own hand, mere seconds after her brother and joined in the mighty chorus of the people, her eyes staring straight and her entire being shining with utter conviction and adoration. She was, after all, a very clever young girl.
And she had been taught well.
Ulrich was oblivious to anything around him, most of all his sister Frieda, as his eyes were fixed on the man marching to the podium, his highest officers as well as members of his personal guard, the Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler following behind, marching with a precision that made Ulrich feel goose bumps rise on his arms. It was the Führer himself, the man who had singlehandedly led Germany from the brink of annihilation to the beginning of a glorious rebirth. There was no doubt in Ulrich’s mind that the Führer would succeed with this and anything else he might decide to do. To Ulrich, the words God and Führer were almost interchangeable. He was a proud member, in excellent standing, of the Hitler Jugend and like most of his friends or rather, all of them as far as he knew, he dreamed of a future in the SS. His eyes moved slightly to where the amassed members of the Hitler Jugend stood to attention much, much closer to the podium than he did, relegated to the back with the civilians and those members of the military, not specifically invited as participators, but only spectators. Still, he was here and there was nowhere else in the entire world, where he would rather be at this very moment.
Behind the two of them stood a young man of thirty-two, clad in the uniform of the Luftwaffe with the insignia of a lieutenant on his shoulders. In most places, this alone would make people stand aside, but not only was this really rather impossible at this place, there were so many officers here that one more simply didn’t stand out. Friedrich, the children’s uncle and Dietrich’s younger brother, was a handsome, well-built man with a natural charm and suitably flashy way to make young women look at him more than once and usually for quite a while, if they could get away with it. Still, he was single and preferred it that way, liking the life of a handsome bachelor much more than any prospects of ever having to actually marry and settle down. And while he liked his brother’s children well enough, he liked them even more for the fact that they weren’t his own. True, as a good National Socialist, he would eventually have to marry and have children, but that was eventually and eventually was still a long time away to Friedrich’s way of thinking.
He smiled at the children standing in front of him and joined them and everyone else in yet another deafening cry of devotion.
He was happy for this chance really, since he didn’t always get along completely well with his brother and Nina, Dietrich’s wife and this was one way of heightening his brother’s opinion of him. He knew Ulrich saw him as something akin to a hero and his ego wasn’t so inflated that he didn’t feel pride at the young man’s adoration. Young man, well yeah, the boy was seventeen after all and he would soon leave the Jugend and judging from everything so far, join the SS. He would be accepted too, Friedrich knew, glancing at Ulrich. The young man was the perfect Aryan: Tall, blond, blue-eyed and completely devoted to the Führer. His niece on the other hand was a slightly different question. Friedrich couldn’t exactly point out what it was, but something was slightly odd about the way the girl acted sometimes. Ah well, he would probably figure it out someday and until then there wasn’t really any reason to speculate too much about it.
All in all, they were a couple of fine young people, Friedrich mused, while more and more of his attention got diverted to the podium, where the Führer was almost ready to speak. He was happy for his brother, but he didn’t envy him. This uncle-arrangement worked out just fine, as far as Friedrich was concerned.