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There was something poisonous inside Captain K. Something wrong, and strange, and definitively un-Nazi.
Something queer, to say the least.
Something marked in camps with a pink triangle and a shot to the head, to say the most. And a glorious, pink death was not what he envisioned for himself, no sir. He would prefer one in battle, surrounded by the sparks of gunfire and the roaring of bombs.
Now that was how real men died.
And that was how he intended to die. He would die, and bury this weird, queer thing along with him.
No one would have to know.
The perfect plan, an easy plan.
Until of course, he got stationed in goddamned Russia.
Funny how fast your life can derail once you feed that little rotting thing inside you.
~
It was World War Two, in Nazi Germany, and Klenzendorf (no one called him by his first name) was fresh from Hitler Youth. Germany was winning, of course it was. Hitler was in the streets, waving and smiling, and saving his country. The bombs weren’t yet dropped on Berlin, and Klenzendorf was finally stationed in active combat.
He was 25, and ambitious.
He hated Jews, loved guns, and heiled Hitler.
What more could you want?
~
Turns out it was not very active combat. All the real fighting was in Poland. Thats where Klenzendorf should be. Fighting for his country, dying for his country, anything for Germany. Germany needed him fighting, not guarding a dumb watch tower in the middle of fucking no where.
But here he was.
Anything for Germany.
(Though he would prefer a little more gore, some gunfire, a bomb or two, just saying)
Two years later, Klenzendorf had successfully worked his way up the ladder, to Captain Klenzendorf. No one really called him that, but he got first pick at dinner and a fancy medal on his uniform, so he was pretty good.
There was more fighting too.
He got to fight, his men got to fight.
His men got to die glorious deaths.
They didn’t stop dying gloriously, no matter how many times he tried to save them.
He tried not to feel bad about it.
~
New men got shipped in, and he tried harder. Spoke to each of them. Cared about (or tried too) all of them.
He even tried to REMEMBER things about the bastards.
Eric: A fine man, maybe a bit over-zealous about the whole, ‘Kill Jews, kill queers, kill Poles, kill communists, kill, kill, kill,” but other than that, he was fine. He had a wife and four kids back home. The fifth had already died a fine German death.
Jann: He was big and burly and didn’t seem to mind much when Eric yelled at him. He had an accent that didn’t exactly shout German, (maybe Polish or Slovakian?) but he did what he was told and saluted the fuhrer, so Captain K would keep his secret. Speaking of secrets, there was a woman he sent letters to. He did not talk about her.
Freddy Finkel: Captain K really had no idea. The bastard would stiffen when Captain K so much as looked at him, and addressed him by his full name, Sir Captain Klenzendorf. He was odd. Captain K still tried to talk to him though. No one else did. Finkel mostly got ignored by the other men. Again, Captain K didn’t know why.
~
“So… You got a girl back home?” The words felt foreign in his mouth.
Finkel, as expected, tensed up before shaking his head.
Could’ve just said no.
Captain K tried again, “You got anyone back home?”
Another head shake.
God.
Captain K sighed, looking around for something to say about fucking anything. He and Finkel were outside, guarding the entrance to the base, not that there were any invaders. There hadn’t been enemies (who weren’t rebel Germans) since two months ago. And rebels were nothing. They were too hungry to do any real damage, too starved. It was only him and Finkel, who seemed determined not to speak.
Say something.
He did not.
“C’mon Fink, you got to work with me here.”
That seemed to work, Finkel actually looked at Captain K, and his mouth twitched(he did not smile, though), “Fink?” He scoffed. “What propaganda machine did you pull that out of?”
“This one.” Captain K made his signature finger guns and struck a few poses, before blowing out the tips of his finger guns and reholstering them.
Finkel had been watching him intently, and when he finished, Finkel clapped. “Truely amazing, the next Hitler indeed.”
He was about to snap back a witty reply about how he wasn’t just the next Hitler, he was the better one. The one who could grow a full mustache, when Eric burst through the doors.
“Heil Hitler, Sir K,” Captain K made eye contact with Finkel and rolled his eyes, before heil Hitlering back.
Eric continued, fervent and oblivious, “We got a radio transmission, and-“
***
I ended up being nothing, and it fucking pissed Captain K off. He had an actual conversation, an actual interaction, with Finkel, and fucking Eric took that from him.
Captain K didn’t know why Finkel mattered so much to him, but that part wasn’t important. He was just doing his job.
Nothing more.
Nope.
Nothing strange.
~
The next day he passed Finkel a note during breakfast, and got one back at dinner.
His had said, Fink… Like mink???
And the one he got back had said, Never call me that. With a drawing of an angry mink eating someone who looked suspiciously like Captain K.
Blasphemy.
At breakfast the following day, Captain K left another note for Finkel: He had tried to draw Hitler shooting a mink, and failed. It looked for like some bald guy eating a sandwich, but fuck it.
There was a note slid under his door.
Meet for guard duty.
Captain K smiled when he read it, and looked forward to it.
Don’t read into it.
~
Captain K felt like a criminal sneaking out of his watchtower to do what he had been assigned to do. He was an excited criminal, but an enemy of the Nazis nonetheless.
He stepped out of the watchtower quickly, making sure there was no one behind him, and holy fuck it was cold.
He straightened his collar and immediately made eye contact with Finkel, who looked away first.
Obviously.
Captain K really hoped today wasn’t going to be like all the days before yesterday, when Finkel wouldn’t so much as fucking speak to him. He blew into his palms and rubbed them, attempting to not get hypothermia and die. That would be a great example of a not glorious death. He made his way over to the guard station across from Finkel and turned to him.
“So did you like my mink drawing?”
It was too dark for Captain K to really see, but he knew Finkel’s expression changed.
“Mink? Didn’t know that. Thought it was some bald guy. But yeah, I did. That’s why I made you this.”
Finkel wrestled with something in his coat pocket before pulling out a folded piece of paper and, after looking around to make sure no one was watching them, he bounded over to Captain K.
Something about him suddenly being so close felt contraband.
“So,” he began, unfolding the paper, “I drew this, and it doesn’t really have anything to do with anything, but I thought I’d show you.”
It was too damn dark for Captain K to see anything. The page looked blank. Still, Captain K was sure whatever was on it looked decent, “Huh… How interesting, yes. A very unique piece, unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”
Finkel looked up at him for a second, a strange expression in his handsome eyes. He glanced away and started laughing.
What. The. Fuck.
Finkel turned back to Captain K in a matter of seconds, and tried, in the most serious manner possible, to maintain his composure. “It’s a blank page, Cap’n.”
Oh?
Oh.
“Ohhh, that explains it then.”
A second, two.
“Why did you show me a blank page?”
“Just curious, now we’ve really got to get back to guard duty, in case those Russians come.” Finkel plodded back to his post across from Captain K, face shadowed and obscure.
Captain K thought that was pretty random, but he went with it, “I heard they fuck dogs.”
Finkel whispered back, “I heard they’re worse than Jews.”
“I heard they eat rats.”
“I heard they bathe in sewage.”
The rest of the night was spent like this, and despite Finkel being nearby still, Captain K felt colder without him by his side.
He tugged down the cuffs of his sleeves more.
~
They started spending nighttime guard duty together more often. Here, there, every two weeks, every one, every other day. When ever one of them saw each other pulling his coat on after dinner, the other would follow.
They started acting more like friends, and they didn’t stay as far apart. As the weather warmed, they gravitated closer together.
Strange.
They started talking too.
Finkel was from a small town in Eastern Germany. He had a dog. He was named after someone’s great grandfather, but he didn’t know who’s.
Captain K told him things too, how he was ambidextrous, how he once stabbed a kid with a pencil, random little stories like that.
He noted neither of them had ever had a girlfriend.
And neither of them seemed to want one.
They would stand close together and wisper about things they’d never told anyone. Finkel would show Captain K his real drawings, not empty papers, and he would like them. Love them.
He had two in his office.
But as thier relationship got better, the battles got worse. More often, more blood, more causalities.
Eric was gone, shot down mid “FOR HITLER”.
Jann got shot in the leg, died of an infection 3 weeks later.
Other soldiers died too, others got injured, sent home.
But soldiers got replaced too, fresh and new, sent to die.
Captain K had a bullet in his right arm, but being ambidextrous and all, it didn’t matter. It healed well. His cheek got grazed by a bullet. His ear got knicked by a bayonet. He almost lost a finger to a grenade. He DID loose a tooth to a big piece of shrapnel.
He did not loose his eye, not yet.
Finkel did fight too, but at the same time he didn’t. Captain K was in the front lines, guns a blazing, and Finkel would melt away somewhere in the background. He got grazed by a bullet one time.
One time.
If they weren’t friends, Captain K would have some serious problems with this level of cowardice. But they were, and every night they went on guard together.
That night they had won a big battle, a bigger one than they had in a while, and they hadn’t lost anyone. Anyone.
That alone was cause for celebration, and when someone brought out the beer, Captain K didn’t see a reason not to splurge. He noticed Finkel didn’t drink. Strange.
He went out to guard duty happy, and maybe a little drunk. He didn’t see why it mattered. Handsome Finkel was there already.
“Cap’n, you’re not looking so good, you think you should-“
Captain K interrupted him, “No, I don’t want to rest. Fink, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,”
Even drunk, Captain K knew ‘are you gay?’ Was not an appropriate conversation to have with your fellow soldier. So he settled for something a tad less risqué, “Do you really not have boyfriend or girlfriend back home?”
Finkel froze, which should have been Captain K’s first sign to stop talking and shut the fuck up, but of course not. Because he was drunk, and drunk for the first time in so damn long, he continued, “Because, I-I don’t think that’s true,” Captain K leaned heavier against the wall, “You’re such a catch after allllll…”
Captain K was starting to slur his words.
“I thinkkkkkkkk… If I could date youuuu I wouldddddd…”
Finkel got very pale very fast. Finkel glanced around, and stepped over to Captain K, something weird on his face.
They were standing very close together all the sudden.
Finkel glanced around once more and leaned in.
“Do not fucking say that.”
Huh?
“You don’t know who could be listening or who could be spying, we are Nazi’s. We kill queers. We kill people like us.”
Us.
“Y-Don’t do that to me, I’m not like that, please. If we were in different circumstances maybe, but we can’t here, they’ll know.”
Us.
Captain K said something in response, and Finkel’s eyes widened.
Finkel said something else, something warm and good this time
And then Captain K saw something move behind Finkel, and even drunk, his instincts took over. He shoved Finkel behind him and suddenly the earth was screaming.
Future generations would know this as Operation Screw-Up.
~
Captain K woke up 3 days later with something over his eyes and a layer of cotton in his ears. Someone was speaking.
He couldn’t what, but they sounded male.
Cute.
~
Day 4: He still couldn’t see, but he could make out words.
“He has to -_-_- see, he needs it.”
“Yes, I understand, but it is a __—_——_-_”
“__-__—-__- His eyes, __-__—-__——?”
“Yes, we’ll try.”
His eyes?
~
“-Going well.”
“-Not as bad as I thought-”
“Only one eye-“
“Can he still be captain?“
“-Of course-“
“-Hopefully.”
~
“K! Captain K! Wake up already!”
Slowly, wearily, the world cleared. The blur sharpened into shapes and a ceiling and a face.
A handsome one.
He recognized him immediately, and the pain was next. An ache that could consume him entirely, like it consumed half of his face. He couldn’t focus in it. If he did, he would scream.
“K?” Finkel turned away from Captain K,“He’s awake!”
Huh?
“What?” His lips felt caked and dry and forgotten and unused.
FInkel turned around to him so fast that Captain K almost didn’t see how pale he was. But he did. “Thank God you’re okay, I was so worried, Sir.” Finkel checked their surroundings and leaned in, he looked guilty. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have snapped… I… I thought about what you said and I-“
“Captain K, you’re awake!” The medic swished into the room, glaring at Finkel who snapped up. “Freddy Finkel, please step away from the patient.”
Finkel glared back, eyes widening. “What are you implying?”
“Simply that you’re jeopardizing the patients recovery.” The Medic looked smug. Like he caught Finkel.
Caught him doing what?
Being close to another guy?
Oh. Captain K got the memo real quick.
“Anyway, Heil Hitler, Captain K, how are you?”
“Fine,” he said offhandedly, “Heil Hitler.”
“Good, good. How’s your eye?”
“Hurts.”
“As expected. Thankfully you didn’t loose both, but the one that you did loose will hurt for quite a while.”
Huh?
“I already reported your injury to the Party and we will see if you are still fit to be a Captain on the front. Your incident already seems to prove the opposite.”
“What incident?”
“Oh it seems you forgot.”
“You and… Freddy Finkel were talking very closely yesterday when a few survivors from our earlier battle threw a grenade at you two. Freddy Finkel shot two of them before he called for help.”
He… He didn’t remember that.
“We shall see if the Party decides whether you are still fit to serve here.” And the Medic left the room, as a pit grew in Captain K’s stomach.
Finkel looked at him, before burying his head in his hands.
He was probably just tired.
~
Captain K was walking the next day, and it was silent.
No battles, no radio transmissions, no mail. Barely any speaking. Finkel seemed to be ignoring him.
It was worse than constant gunfire.
He could barely look he’s reflection in the eye, because of that fact, eye. He only had one that worked. And it hurt, so bad. It would stop soon, but soon seemed so far away when he couldn’t even guard the tower or speak with Finkel.
He was miserable.
He didn’t see why after a huge victory, he had to ruin it. Had to be weak and stupid and probably get demoted. God. He had worked his whole life for this, for this status and to loose it all for one mistake. He couldn’t bear thinking of it.
He was a perfect nazi. White, blue eyed, a good shot, devote, not gay.
Not, emphasis on not.
And even if he was, no one would know. He would keep it and hide it and never tell a soul because who was there to tell?
He was a Nazi in Nazi Germany, and he was a queer.
He started smoking too, because it was easier. Took the bite off the eye and the fact he was having a harder and harder time to ignore.
First he smoked here and there, then more often.
Then every day.
He was starting to smell like smoke.
A week felt like forever, each day a new infinity.
***
The first day he was allowed to guard the tower he did. Finkel didn’t come
That day. Or the next.
By the fourth he thought Finkel was done with him.
On the fifth Finkel came and they guarded in silence far from each other.
God, Captain K hated it.
~
Captain K was sure he was going to get the letter soon. Get told he couldn’t fight anymore, that they knew he was a queer.
He collected his near empty pack of cigarettes and went outside to guard.
He had the last cigarette in his mouth before he realized Finkel was there, watching him with an expression he couldn’t name.
“Oh, hey.”
“Hey Cap’n”
“Want one?” Captain K held up his pack of cigarettes, unaware it was empty, voice slightly muffled by the unlit cigarette in this mouth.
“Sure.”
Without even thinking, he took the cigarette from his mouth and passed it to Finkel. Finkel’s unreadable expression deepened, but he took it and placed it between his lips regardless.
Captain K realized what he had done with a breath, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Finkel could just ghost him again if he didn’t want to use a cigarette he had.
Captain K checked the pack, shaking it upside down to see if it was really empty.
It was.
He sighed, falling against the wall and tossing his lighter to Finkel. Finkel fumbled with it, almost dropping the cigarette as he tried not to drop the lighter. He lit the cigarette and tossed the lighter back. The smoke burned Captain K’s lungs, making his eye ache and yearn for its quick relief. He tried not to be bitter about Finkel taking the last cigarette.
He was staring off into the distance, ignoring Finkel and the pain in his eye, when Finkel spoke.
“Cap’n, you want some?” Finkel was holding out the cigarette, looking at Captain K like he could not take another drag.
He coughed as if to prove his point.
“Sure,” Captain K moved closer to Finkel, and he couldn’t ignore the overwhelming sense of déjà vu.
He had been close to Finkel
Like this. He didn’t know when but he had.
Captain K was leaning against the wall next to Finkel when Finkel passed the cigarette.
Captain K took a long drag. It tasted like smoke and relief and Finkel.
Strangely, he wondered if this was the closest he would ever be to kissing a guy.
He passed the cigarette back.
Finkel took significantly shorter drags and coughed a lot more than Captain K did, and spent most of his time with the cigarette holding it.
The stayed like that, until it was just the end crumbled in Finkel’s palm.
But they didn’t leave.
They just stood there, inching closer to each other until their hands were brushing eachother
Finkel looked at Captain K, “You don’t remember, do you? The night you lost your eye?”
“No, the bastards got my memory with my eye.”
“Oh. Well… I… I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“You were drunk and said some stuff and I… It’s my fault you lost your eye.”
“How?”
“I distracted you.”
“How?”
“I said… I do li- That Nazis kill queers.”
Captain K froze.
No.
Did he.
He couldn’t have.
Did he out himself?
Oh, fuck.
“I didn’t mean it, well, no, Nazis do kill queers but… But I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
It was dark, and the light shone off of half of Finkel’s face.
“I’m not a good Nazi…” Finkel swallowed.
“I’m like you.”
Oh.
Oh.
Finkel was a queer.
“Oh, okay.” Captain K didn’t know what to do. This was the kind of information that could end his life, send him off to a labor camp to marked and shot.
He never thought about the lives of the people Nazis fought against. They got sent away.
He never thought past that.
But now, now he did.
Now he thought: what if Finkel got sent away?
Then he thought: I have the power to do that to him.
They would believe a captain over a common soldier.
They could loose a common soldier, but a captain was harder to replace.
He could get away with a an accusation, Finkel was already on thin ice. Captain K thought back to the medic telling him to stay away, to every glare Finkel got.
They all thought, and all it would take would be one accusation.
And… Gone.
He wouldn’t do that.
Couldn’t do that.
But he couldn’t stand so close to him.
What if it infected him?
(He was already infected)
“I gotta go get some sleep.” And Captain K shoved away from Finkel and to his room.
~
The next day the Party higher ups responded about Captain K’s eye. He was ‘no longer fit to be a captain in an operating base’ because apparently the loss of one eye made him useless to the war effort. Fuck. He was instructed to go lead a Hitler Youth weekend and bring another soldier to assist him.
He didn’t know who to bring.
Fuck it.
He did.
But he needed to ask first.
He just hoped the bastard would say yes.
~
When he got back outside for guard duty (his last time, last time guarding this watch tower ever), Finkel’s eyes lit up when he saw him, and he approached Captain K.
Finkel stopped, holding out a fresh pack of cigarettes, “figured you’d want these.”
Captain K was about to take them from him, when an idea crossed his mind.
“Nah, I don’t mind sharing.”
Finkel reacted as expected, fumbling with a cigar and going red. He lit and coughed, before passing it to Captain K.
He took a long drag as he ambled over to the wall he and Finkel had leaned against yesterday. Finkel followed, and stood closer to Captain K than he had expected.
Captain K passed back the cigarette and sighed.
Now or never.
He was about to speak when Finkel beat him to it.
“I really don’t like the taste of cigarettes, but when it’s from you, I don’t seem to mind.” He wasn’t looking at Captain K, he wasn’t even smoking, just holding it.
“Oh.”
“Because it burns my throat, but it’s not so bad when it’s your cigarette. Dulls the burn I guess.”
A second.
“I might be crazy though. Need to be sterilized or something.”
“No. No, not at all… Finkel I have something to ask you.”
“Yes?” He passed back the cigar, but Captain K didn’t take a drag yet, “I’m no longer fit to fight in the front lines. Because of my damned eye, I’m being sent to Hitler Youth training. I… Will you come with me?”
He took a drag to try and calm himself, unsuccessfully. It tasted like Finkel saying no, like this being the last cigarette they ever shared.
“Of course, Cap’n.”
“Oh, thank god. I didn’t know who else to bring, because everyone thinks I’m a damned cripple.”
Finkel raised an eye brow, “Are you not?”
“It’s ONE eye, it’s not like I’m blind now!”
“Naturally. But I should probably go pack, when are we leaving?”
“The truck comes tomorrow afternoon.”
“Alright,” Finkel shuffled towards the entrance to the watchtower, before turning around and saluting, “Heil Hitler, Cap’n.”
“Heil Hitler, Finkel.”