“Jürgen is lying!” she shouted desperately, as she tugged at her scalp. “Karl wouldn’t abandon me!”

“Karl thought he had a chance to save his own neck and he took it. I know it’s not what you want to hear but it’s the truth,” I said numbly. I couldn’t deal with her breakdown—I had my own to attend to. I walked slowly down the path toward the curb, closer to Hans and Jürgen.

“We didn’t have enough guns. The SS gave us grenades and told us to climb under the tanks and to hold on to them while they detonated. But me and Georg didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die, Mr. Rhodes…” Hans was babbling now, weeping and talking at a million miles an hour, drawing shuddering breaths only when he had to. Jürgen still held him by the shoulders, but now I could see that if he released him, Hans would collapse to the ground. He looked behind us, toward Lydia, and between heaving sobs he choked out, “Mama, I can’t do it. Help me, Mama. Please.”

Hans said the words, but it was Georg’s voice I heard. I imagined that as he took his last breaths, scared and alone, he had called for me just like that. My knees went weak, and I reached for Jürgen’s shoulder to hold myself up. Hans fumbled for the car door and threw himself into the back seat.

“He was shot defending his country,” Lydia said numbly. She walked past us, leaned into the car to murmur something to Hans, then turned to face me one last time. “Georg died for the Reich, in service of the Führer. He is a hero and you should be proud.”

“A hero?” I blurted. Then I laughed bitterly. “He was a child, Lydia! A brainwashed, broken child.” Lydia gasped, her hand covering her mouth. “Hitler was never worthy of our loyalty and he sure as hell wasn’t worthy of the sacrifice of my son’s life.”

Lydia stared at me, and then she turned to slip back into the car. Her gaze was sharp as she looked at me one last time and said, “The boys were safe—hiding. Georg tried to run away and the Americans shot him in the back. The truth was, if Georg hadn’t been a coward, he would have made it out like Hans did.”

With that, Lydia slid into the car and her driver took them away.

As the city crumbled around us, I could think of nothing but Georg. Several days passed and I stayed in bed. Jürgen provided the emotional support the girls needed, boarded up windows, and moved the rest of the food down into the cellar beneath Adele’s building.