Max could feel something stinging in his eyes. No! He would not cry like a baby. He was a man, a proud Nazi. He would deal with his feelings another way.

He softly closed his bedroom door so that he couldn’t be heard. Then he grabbed his pillow from the head of his bed. He placed it on his bedroom sideboard and rolled up his sleeves. And then he punched it, hard. And again. Over and over, punch, punch, punch, he hurled his feelings of injustice and frustration into the pillow till they were out of him.

And then, panting, exhausted and rubbing his hands where they ached, Max carefully put his pillow back on the bed.

He felt lighter. And he knew what he had to do.

Standing in front of his mirror, Max straightened his shirt, flattened down his hair and checked his necktie. Then he went back into the lounge, ready to hide his feelings once more.

His father put down his newspaper and called Max to him. ‘Are you ready to take the next step?’ he asked Max, peering into his eyes as he spoke.

Max didn’t know what ‘the next step’ was, but he knew one thing: he was ready for anything his father had to offer him.

‘Yes, sir,’ he replied sharply.

His father rubbed his chin for a moment. Then, as if agreeing something with himself, he nodded. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I have something to ask you which I hope will make you happier about the transition.’

Had his father heard him in his room? How did he know Max was unhappy about it? ‘Father, I’m not unhappy,’ he began. ‘Whatever you—’

His father held up a hand. ‘I’m still speaking.’

Max swallowed the rest of his sentence and waited.

‘Do you want a job, son? Are you ready to work for the regime?’

‘Work for Hitler?’ Max gasped. ‘Yes! Yes, sir! I want nothing more than to serve Hitler. I want to give myself to him completely. Nothing else matters to me.’

Max’s father removed his glasses and looked properly at Max. He seemed to be studying his son, looking for the cracks in his words, the lies in his promises, the hesitation in his commitment.

It seemed he didn’t find any of those things because he nodded slowly and said, ‘I have already spoken to the commandant. I have asked if there is a role for you. And this morning I had word. You can’t do official work there till you are sixteen, so we shall keep quiet about your age. But I will be a senior officer and you have shown yourself to be a good soldier at Hitler Youth, so they are willing to give you an opportunity to help out.’