Chapter 1.
November 1943.
Poland

Erik watched the bleary landscape from the car window as it drove down the muddy road. The view was far from flattering. Naked trees sticking out from a mud covered earth that had a few rotting leaves scattered about here and there. A chill clung to the air and somehow managed to penetrate through the thick wool of his winter uniform. He rubbed his hands together in an attempt to warm them.

"It's rotten weather," Kommandant Frtiz Schultz, who sat in the passenger seat beside him, commented. "It won't look so miserable once the snow comes. And just wait for summer, then the landscape becomes really beautiful."

Erik gave a slight nod. He was in no mood to talk. His brother, however, seemed determined to keep the conversation going.

"On the bright side, at least you're no longer on the Eastern Front. I'll bet the snow is knee deep in Russia right now."

"It does get bitterly cold in the winter," Erik replied, his attention still focused on the window. "The men aren't used to such freezing conditions. The winters aren't half as cold in Germany. I fear the Eastern Front will be our downfall."

For a reply he received a hard blow to his shoulder. "Lagerführer Erik Schultz, you dare!" Fritz snapped. "Mind your words! The army of the  Führer is undefeatable. Western for Eastern front, Northern or Southern, it doesn't matter. We'll conquer it all."

Erik rolled his eyes. "That's easy for you to say," he muttered under his breath. "You never were at the Eastern front...or any front at all for that matter."

"We're almost at the house," Fritz's voice became calm and pleasant again. "As a high ranking officer you won't have to stay at the barracks. Greta has probably already got a nice hot dinner on the stove. Hans and Herman are excited to meet you, and you'll never recognize Margareth, she's grown so much since you last saw her. Oh and Johanna of course. That sister of ours was transferred here a year ago. Now with you our sibling family is complete."

Erik made no reply. His silence obviously irked his brother. Fritz reached again and gave his brother a bit of a shove.
"Erik, Father had to pull a lot of strings to keep you front returning to the Eastern Front. He had to pull even more strings to have you promoted. You're not going back to the fighting and the killing. It's all easy now. Show some gratitude and stop moping about. Do you know how many would kill to be in your place?"

"I never asked for any of it," Erik returned. "And anyway, I was supposed to get transferred to Holland. I wanted to go to Holland."

"It's not about who wants what, alright? Father needs you to serve at Auschwitz. There are few who can be trusted to come here. Now, we're at the house already, step out of the car with a smile on that face and let's go greet the family."

Erik obediently stepped out of the car but without the smile. The chauffeur opened the back to pull out the luggage. As he waited for his suitcase Eric glanced at his reflection in the car window. The new black SS uniform looked foreign on him. In his mind he was still Erik Schultz, Major of the 5th Panzer Division of the Wehrmacht. A decorated war hero and a celebrated fighter known for his courage, he had expected to be sent back to the front now that he had recovered from the wound that had sent him back home in the first place. Everyone was always saying they needed more soldiers like him on the front.

But Father had other plans. Maybe it had been the scars on his face, the gray in his blond hair, the lost look in the light blue eyes. Maybe it had been the scare of how many times he had been a breath away from death in the four years he had spent fighting on different fronts. Whatever the reason his father, SS-Obergruppenführer Axel Schultz, decided his youngest son had enough of battles and fighting. From one day to the next Erik found himself being given a long lecture from his father and then he was made to take an oath of loyalty after which found himself promoted to SS-Totenkopfverbänd, the same unit his father, brother, and sister belonged to. Once all this was completed he fully expected to be sent to Amsterdam to take up duties there. Instead he was told to sign of document of confidentiality, board a train bound for Katowice, and report to the Kommandant of Auschwitz, who also just happened to be his older brother. That was how he had ended up at Fritz's home, which was several miles from the camp itself.

"Erik,wake up! Let's go." The deep voice shattered Erik's thoughts. He took his suitcase and followed the large, imposing figure of his brother. Fritz was six years his senior and although quite similar as far as looks went, the two were as different as night from day.
Fritz was loud, domineering, and aggressive. The exact qualities their officer father wanted and needed in a son. While Erik had always been gentle, sensitive, and tender hearted. Due to this large difference in temperament and personality they has never really gotten along. Erik wondered how well they would be able to work together.

Together the two brothers walked up the steps and entered the two story house. Inside it was warm and cheery. The ladies and children stood in the Hall to greet them and for a few moments it was all joyous words and exclamations as hugs and kisses were exchanged.

"Dinner is on the table," Greta, Fritz's wife, stated. "Hurry and wash and let's eat before it gets cold. We can talk over the meal."

They were soon seated around the table. Erik said little, he rather observed his family. Fritz sat at the head of the table. He was an impressive man with broad shoulders and a strong build. His black uniform only added to the imposing figure. His blue eyes seemed cold and empty and his clean shaven face had a hardness to it that Erik hadn't noticed before. The war was changing him. But for a man who had never gone to battle even once, who had never seen any sort of fighting, Erik wondered what it was Fritz did that so altered him.

Greta sat on Fritz's right. She was as small as her husband was large. Her strawberry blonde hair was gathered up neatly and the soft gray eyes kept glancing around to make sure her three children behaved.

Margareth, Hans, and Herman, his brother's children, were in looks the perfect Aryan children. They all had blond hair, light eyes, and fair skin. The entire family was an example of what Hitler wanted a German family to be like. Fritz serving his country, Greta the perfect housewife dedicating her time to her husband, her children and her home, and the children being brought up in the philosophy and ways of the Third Reich

Then there was his sister Johanna, who was older than him by three years. She wasn't married yet, but was active in service to the Führer so this was forgivable. She was a tall woman with a good figure, though her shoulders were extremely square. Mother had often joked that they were "male shoulders." She had a pretty face with high cheekbones and an aristocratic nose. Gazing at her, however, Erik thought that, much like Fritz, the look in her green eyes had hardened and there seemed to be a sort of coarse look about her that had never been there before.

"Erik," Greta's voice calling his name caused him to start and look at her abruptly.

"Yes?"

"Are you alright? You've hardly said two words together since you entered the house. You seem so distant and far away. Come back to us." She let out a soft laugh.

"I'm sorry, Greta, I'm just tired after the trip from Berlin. I'll call it an early night if you'll let me."

"Of course, of course," Greta smiled sympathetically. "You go and get some good rest."

"Tomorrow at six I expect to see you ready to leave." Fritz stated. "I'll instruct you on your duties personally."

Erik nodded and rose from the table. He could feel the stares of everyone following him as he walked out of the dinning room and up the stairs. No doubt they would start discussing him and his behavior once the children were sent away. Well let them, he didn't care.

He walked up the stairs slowly and came to the room that was now his. It wasn't large but cozy with a wardrobe, a bed, and a desk with a chair beside it. He turned on the lamp that stood on the bed stand and went over to the window. Pulling back the curtains he opened the window wide and breathed in the cold November air. His eyes looked upward at the dark sky.

"Amsterdam," he whispered in a broken voice. "I would have long been in Amsterdam by now. I would have been busy searching, who knows I might have even found you by now. It was all set and suddenly a change of plans." He let out a defeated sigh. "Why are the odds always against me? Against us? "

Shutting the window Erik went to the bed and sat down. Reaching into the inside pocket of his uniform jacket he pulled out a photograph folded into four. The creases were deep, the sides were frayed. It was obvious the photograph had been folded and unfolded many, many times. With gentle fingers Erik once more unfolded it and looked at the image. There were two people in it. The one on the right was him. But not the Erik of today. No, this was the Erik of the past. Back then he had smiled and laughed and way always ready to engage in conversation. Beside him was a young woman with laughing dark eyes and a bright smile. Dimples adorned her cheeks. Her dark hair was a mass of curls that were only held in place by multiple pins. Her teeth were white and straight, her lips full and soft.

"Where are you now? Are you safe? How am I to find you?"

They were questions he continually asked himself. Questions that never had an answer. Erik sat motionless for a long time, staring at the photograph, his thoughts deep, deep in the past.

It was the footsteps of the children on their way to bed that finally snapped him back to reality. He pressed the photograph to his lips, folded it again, and tucked it safely away.

Tomorrow would no doubt be a long day, and the fact that he would have Fritz as his superior officer would make it even longer. He needed all the rest he could get.