Chapter 3. Every Last Jew
Henry slowly opened the holster holding the Luger as his heart pounded. He anxiously looked back at the door of the barracks to see if the Obersturmbannfuhrer (Lieutenant Colonel) was approaching. The gun felt cold and heavy in his hand. Henry was familiar with the sight and sound of this particular weapon although he never held one in his hands. He had heard it fired and had seen the damage it was capable of. This particular gun belonged to Obersturmbannfuhrer Baumann. Henry was assigned the tasks of shining Baumann's boots and leather holster, mending his uniforms, straightening his quarters, and even cleaning his gun—the gun he was now holding for the first time which was beckoning him to take action.
His mind started racing with ideas of waiting for Baumann to walk through the door and shooting him in the face. "I should kill that bastard," he thought to himself. "He won't know what hit him. I'll show him who's in charge. Then I'll run outside and kill as many rotten, goddam Nazis as I can before the guards in the towers shoot me dead. Everyone will watch with awe and disbelief. I'll die a hero, on my terms, and not at the whim of a Nazi who takes pleasure in killing Jews. That son of a bitch, Baumann—I'll show him!"
Just then the door flung open. Henry was startled. He quickly turned his head toward the door. It was Baumann, who stopped for a brief moment and was also slightly startled to see someone in his quarters. Henry's heart was racing as a flash of blood filled his head with a warm wave of fear. Baumann appeared to Henry as a towering figure slightly silhouetted by the daylight behind him. He was wearing his full green-grey uniform, replete with epaulettes, medallions, and badges, including the all-pervasive haunting swastika. His tall black, well-polished boots and officer's cap added to his intimidating air of authority. Henry was momentarily paralyzed in fear.
His mind started racing with ideas of waiting for Baumann to walk through the door and shooting him in the face. "I should kill that bastard," he thought to himself. "He won't know what hit him. I'll show him who's in charge. Then I'll run outside and kill as many rotten, goddam Nazis as I can before the guards in the towers shoot me dead. Everyone will watch with awe and disbelief. I'll die a hero, on my terms, and not at the whim of a Nazi who takes pleasure in killing Jews. That son of a bitch, Baumann—I'll show him!"
Just then the door flung open. Henry was startled. He quickly turned his head toward the door. It was Baumann, who stopped for a brief moment and was also slightly startled to see someone in his quarters. Henry's heart was racing as a flash of blood filled his head with a warm wave of fear. Baumann appeared to Henry as a towering figure slightly silhouetted by the daylight behind him. He was wearing his full green-grey uniform, replete with epaulettes, medallions, and badges, including the all-pervasive haunting swastika. His tall black, well-polished boots and officer's cap added to his intimidating air of authority. Henry was momentarily paralyzed in fear.