1, Hitler of the Nazi'sShwazki 28/2/1944.
My name is Shwazki. The year is 1947 and I sit here with my family in Hamburg. The new dictator, Hitler wants all men in the war; I hope I am not called upon.
My name is Greg Davaan. I have no family and spend my days crafting guns for the army. My parents were Dutch and both died in a car accident, I the only survivor that helpless night. WWII is on the horizon, I fear of the Nazi rain.
I am waiting in the darkest shadows hoping the falling footsteps of the men who walk the streets looking for Nazi recruits will not find me. A nock. A yell. They know I am here “come out of the house we know you are in there, you must join the war!” a devilish Nazi voice slithers towards the door of my room, I must go.
While being dragged along the dirt I fear not only for my life and for my family.
Hide scavenge and kill. That is now my life, I recently found a revolver, the mechanisms intrigue me and I wish I could be at home making one myself, If only I could.
The gunfire is closing in and I am scared. Life is hard with Hitler
I must go into a safe house; a man is reported to be inside. I hope I mustn’t shoot him. “Shwazki!” the radio crackles “Yes I have found him,” I reply quickly. “Why can’t I hear gunfire?! You must shoot him! Get him over with!” the radio shrieks.
He pulls a pistol to my head “kill me I have neither life nor family! End my dreaded curse of existence!” He hesitates and pulls the gun away; instead he shoots the radio with his final bullet instead of me. “I can’t do it. I cannot kill an innocent man!” the man cries but amazingly he speaks Dutch, not Nazi German! “You s-speak Dutch?” I stumble over the words awkwardly. “Yes my mother and wife are both of strong Dutch blood.” A conversation began and lasted a long time. Suddenly I realized I was friends with a Nazi.
I was scarred my face was on the dartboard and the Nazis weren’t planning on taking it off. I had committed the worst thing a man could do and the Nazis defiantly not soft on traitors. Death would not be a good enough consequence for them and the only thing better was torture, including death of loved ones. I had made a big mistake but I hoped I could make it a good one.
It as been a few months since I last wrote in this diary and 3 assassination attempts have been made on Hitler, none successful, the best fight concluded in Hitler being cut but only deep enough to stop him drinking coffee in his right hand. I am having withdrawals from my profession but it is fun to have a new life, a more challenging life, a life where you have a friend.
The war is hard, and being so close to it is torturous. Me and Greg teach each other about our countries and enjoy each other’s company.