blood of our blood,

and your young minds are driven by the same spirit

that possesses me!"

Mr. Frank would repeat the same speech every time on this day of the year. It was Wolf's birthday. Everyone was told to wear something special—something red. Eldric brought a red flag with him. Dieter was seen wearing a proper soldier's suit that he got from his elder brother. The utterly famous red flag on the shoulder along with the black cross. Every year, the best-sensed student from tenth grade led the team. Dieter didn’t show any parsimony in his appearance. He led the front.

"Before we lie, Germany...

And behind us, follow Germany."

Mr. Frank finally finished an hour-long, boring enough for the tenth graders and Eldric. After the assembly, everyone had to dine, as organised by the authorities. During the supper, the commander of a Nazi battalion got up in front of the crown. However, in the eyes of each student, he seemed to be less like a commander and more like a three- or four-year-old big brother. He had a very plain and naïve torso that didn't properly fit his suit. Short and average-built, this white-skinned young man had a powerful feel about him. A particularly notable feature was his sense of style, and he had a large bruise on his torso, which he never talks about.

"Folks, I stand here for this special day." The rough, heavy voice ventilated the whole crowd. "We stand here for someone who has served this country since he was eleven years old, even younger than us. Someone who lost his parents at an early age, someone who lost his passion, saw the grief Germany suffered after the war. Germany lost pride, legacy, and power, and what was left was humiliation."

The student misunderstood his age. His words flamed in their eyes, and they would hardly enable him to swallow their food.

"And seeh!" The commander continued. "We all know our country gets a father of our nation who tries as hard as one can. No one ever gets a chance to serve our country." He stooped for a while. He took his time to look at everyone he had been able to pay attention to.

"Now, aspirants, the war is about to end. Our Wolf has done his best for the country. The Lord made him broken to make him our leader. He left you guys in our very land to serve as he did. You are the next successor of the Wolf; you are here to bow yourself behind our people of the nation. Hail Wolf!"

"HAIL WOLF!" everyone shouted like they would whenever someone repeated this chant. Everyone raised their hand, sticking their fingers together. The way the young man came down had changed as he climbed up the stairs. Perhaps the aura he delivered through his speech made his footsteps weigh more.

After the assembly, the commander took them to the refugee camp near town. The number had increased within a month. There were 34 of them, along with the young commander and Mr. Frank, who was holding the cigarette with his pointer and middle finger. He hadn't been seen pulling the smoke out since he entered the camp.

"I should admit this, your brother has the guts to take this position." Sascha and Dieter were leading the charge. There was only one long line that was able to make it through the congested throng.

"I don't mind seeing him in this position." Dieter's eyes never met his brother's. He wore his uniform, but he never seemed to be comfortable with it. He was a few inches taller than his brother, which is why he appeared to be focusing on his shirt tucking in properly. He looked behind him; the uniform even didn't reach his wrist.

"That's my family trait, you know, and I have the burden to be like him."

"Are you okay?" Sascha chuckled. "I mean the suit you are wearing."

"Well, I am," Dieter replied rapidly, all out of embarrassment. "The suit really makes me feel like I am a commander. And you… better keep your eye off."

Dieter's ears would always become red in this situation. He failed to tuck the shirt, which is at least a size smaller than him. Sascha giggled behind him.

After the line was completely mixed in the camp, Mr. Frank marched forward, where militias had already prepared a microphone for him. Mr. Frank took his final pull at the smoke and threw it half-finished.