I couldn't keep thinking about that conversation.

The Latvian girl sat beside me on the ship, holding a pack close to her side. It didn't look like it belonged to her, but she clung on to it tightly. I looked at the pack closely. It was from a German Soldier for sure. Was it from the young recruit? The fabric was a dark green color, and there was a pouch on the side that looked like it contained something flat and rigid inside it. The strap was worn down and a small part of it looked torn close to the shoulder padding. Shoulder padding, if it could even be called that, it was really only a small area where the strap was doubled over, barely padded at all. There were two zippers either side of it, one of the zippers had the original metal puller, but the other side had a small black paracord puller, with a knot and then a frayed end. On the other side, there was a flap with a button on it. There was also an outline of a pouch. One side of the outline looked like the pouch was cut open cleanly with a knife or a scissors, but the other side was messy and uneven, as if it was ripped off suddenly. The girl clung to the pack, and stared into the distance. She looked as if she were missing a part of her, and held onto the pack as if it were her only reminder. I focused back onto myself more. I couldn't. I couldn't focus. No, that couldn't be. I was trying to force myself.

I couldn't stop thinking about Hannelore.

The girl was looking at me now. Did she want to tell me something, or ask me a question? I looked at her.

"Thank you," I said to her, "for, ... for pulling me onto this raft."

She stared at me, but I could see that she was trying to smile. Then, she quickly lost her smile and looked down.

"So, ..." she said, clearly thinking hard about what she wanted to say. Her voice shook, "Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just of, ... the whole operation, the whole movement, what was the goal? All it has brought is pain and suffering to all the people involved!"

The war, the war. Why was I here? No, not why, I was here because of the Fuhrer. Why was I here? The Fuhrer is losing. What does the Fuhrer want? I didn't know what to say. I knew what I meant, but I couldn't figure out how to say it.

I looked back down at the pack, did the young recruit make it onto a boat? There were only so many boats, the number being far below the requirement, definitely not enough to hold the sheer amount of people on board. Was the girl thinking the same thing? Perhaps, this was the reason she held on to the pack so strong. It was the last thing she had with her.

I looked back at the flooring of the raft. It was simple. Meant to work, did work, and worked well. That pack, it was meant to work, it did work, and it hasn't broken yet. This government of Germany, the Fuhrer, can't hold the government together, and I was stuck on a lifeboat here useless, fighting a losing war.

Why was I here? The Fuhrer wants me here, do I support the Fuhrer? I did support the Fuhrer, and I agreed with him. What do I have now for supporting him?

"You haven't answered my question," she said with a stronger tone now, no longer shaky. "What do you have against all these innocent people?"

"They're, they're not, ... I don't know."

"Then, why are you here? Why are any of us here?"

I sighed heavily, "I don't know."

She wouldn't stop her inquiry, "What do you have against all these innocent people?!"

"They aren't of the master race, unlike you. We do not have to support them."

"Me? Aryan?", she said. I stared at her. No, don't— She raised her voice.

"Nicht Deutsche!" Those words rang through my ears.

"Polin!" It struck at my head, whipping away the mound of dirt I had covered it with. Oh, dear Hannelore.

The memory flung at me, rubble falling off its shoulders, piercing my sanity like an icicle. Oh, my dear Hannelore. Your words have never left.

` ` ` (flashback from the original chapter)

I ran out onto the sidewalk as they were taking you away. I told them that half of you was part of the master race. You stopped in your tracks and whirled to face me.

“No,” you yelled. And then you screamed so very loud.

“I am Jewish!”

Your words echoed between the buildings and bounced down the street.

“I am Jewish!”

` ` `

"I am Polish!" she said again. Did I have to relive this moment again?

"I am Polish!" Have I cemented your words in my head so strongly, that I am hearing them again?

"Stop it, stop that!" I cried, "I can't stand it, damn you, Hannelore, damn you!"

I sat there with my hands carrying my face.

She was quiet again, "The master race, if it is truly so great, why is it that all they've done for everyone else, is hate them? Can you, truly let yourself fall for an ideology, from a man who can't learn to love another soul? If all you can do is place yourself above."

"Will you forgive me?"