‘Hurry. We leave in five minutes sharp. I don’t want to have to explain to my driver that my son has kept him waiting.’

‘You won’t have to, Father. I promise,’ Max assured him. His father gave a quick nod before leaving Max and closing the door behind him.

Max glanced in the mirror one last time to check his hair was parted perfectly, his Hitler Youth shirt was buttoned up correctly, his neckerchief was straight. He slid the swastika armband on to his sleeve and stood to attention. Thrusting his right arm forward, he uttered, ‘Heil Hitler!’ to his reflection.

Yes. He was ready.

The drive took a little under an hour. Max had not been this far out of Munich since they’d moved here. And he had never been to his father’s place of work with him. He’d told his friends what he was doing today and they were all envious.

‘It’s so unfair,’ his friend Hans had complained. ‘Why do you get such an important father?’

Max had shrugged. ‘I guess I’m just lucky,’ he said.

And he certainly felt it. Just last week, on another Hitler Youth weekend camp, he had been praised for his crisp marching style, led his team to victory in the relay races and been awarded a new badge for his uniform, for his survival skills. He was popular, too. He no longer even remembered the days when he could count his friends on the fingers of one hand. And now he was going to get first-hand experience of the Nazi regime at work alongside his father.

‘Lucky’ was the word!

The car came to a stop outside some big gates. They were heavily locked, with soldiers parading along both sides, rifles over their shoulders and eyes darting around everywhere like eagles’. Above a door in the centre of the gates, the iron had three words wrought into it: Arbeit Macht Frei. Work sets you free.

Max’s chest filled with pride. He could hardly believe that he was really here. That he was allowed to be a part of this.

‘Here we are,’ his father said as he got out of the car, indicating for Max to follow him.

The soldiers at the gates snapped their heels together when they saw Max’s father. ‘Heil Hitler!’ they shouted. Max’s father returned the salute. Max stood beside him and thrust his arm forward. ‘Heil Hitler!’ he said along with his father.

One of the soldiers laughed as he unlocked the gate. ‘I see we have a new guard today,’ he said, pointing at Max.

Max’s father appraised his son before replying lightly, ‘Perhaps one day. When he is a man.’