Diedrich Himmelreich knew he had done wrong. He knew it from the moment he agreed to wear their insignia, march in their lines, and praise their goal of a new world order. Though he was only nineteen at the time, placed into the camp system viewed as the "scum" of the SS, it didn't change his fate. In fact, the twenty-three year old ex-guard now stood before a jury that viewed his branch even more punishable than the fighting forces. There was little he could do to pull himself from the predicament now.

He twisted his handkerchief in his hands as he stared at the judge, waiting for his turn to be called to trial. Diedrich could only imagine what would be said when he was presented; what claims they would have against him. He had heard enough within the last hour alone during the trial of a Gestapo Kriminalkomissar.

His name was Hans Heinrich, a young, upper class officer who clung to the boot heels of his father to gain his title. He was just about as stubborn as one could get, refusing to appear at trial and attempting to flee the country. Unfortunately for Hans, his plan was foiled, and here he was standing before the grand jury, already marked for counts one and two. Yet, Hans wasn't fazed. He continued to lean back in his seat, eyes averted from the judge as he twirled a tooth pick in the gap between his front teeth.

"Herr Heinrich," Jackson, the Supreme Court Justice, spoke softly, "you have already pled guilty to the crimes against peace and in waging wars and aggression, that of which many in this room can vouch for. It is from counts one and two we move towards war crimes, crimes that were committed to—"

"To prisoners." Hans's voice was low and bitter. "Yes, I am aware of what war crimes are."

"Did you engage in acts against prisoners, as well?"

"Perhaps." Hans still refused to look the man prosecuting him in the eyes.

Jackson flipped open a record book behind the stand, skimming it carefully before glancing back over to Hans. "According to witnesses, victims, and records you happened to keep, I would say you have indeed committed a fair share of war crimes, Herr Heinrich. Shall we revisit them?" Jackson paused momentarily, then began reading from the list. "Commanding slaughter throughout the ghetto on Juddenstausse, torment and torture to prisoners, rape…"

From behind his stand, Hans smirked. Jackson, catching this, peered up from the text and glared. It wasn't long before Hans was cackling, and Diedrich tensing even more. So far, Hans's crimes didn't seem so bad, he thought to himself. The list of his own crimes, how long and detailed and gruesome would they be?

"You find these claims to be humorous, Herr Heinrich?" Jackson interrupted.

"I find them to be pathetic." Hans spat. "You make it sound like they're the most horrific offenses you've dealt with. They were vermin." Hans twirled the tooth pick between his gap again before polishing his teeth with his tongue. "They deserved it."

"So you admit to them?"

"I don't deny them."

The jury shifted somewhat and a low whisper was heard throughout the courtroom. Hans continued to smirk, even when Jackson recollected himself and moved on to the final count.

"Crimes against humanity," Jackson continued, only to be cut off for a second time.

"Yes, yes," Hans waved him off, "you've already mentioned. The slaughter, the torture, the rape. There's no need to repeat yourself, your honor."

Diedrich hung his head in disbelief. Hans Heinrich was guilty. Guilty on every count. And he was proud of it.

"I see." Jackson glanced to the still whispering jury. One of the men nodded, and he finally turned back to the ex-Gestapo officer with a frown. "Hans Heinrich, you have been found guilty on all four counts. I ask again before the final judgment, is there anything you wish to deny or attest further to?"

"I deny nothing."

"Then, by decision of the court, you are hereby sentenced to death," Jackson's final statement concluded Hans's trial, but Diedrich knew well enough that he would be next.

Hans snorted as the guards approached him, hauling him to his feet and cuffing him. He stared in revulsion at Jackson, but still managed to smile. Even when he was dragged from the court, Diedrich could hear him over the whispering, shouting his final comments and laughing.

"They deserved it! They all deserved it! They were vermin!"

Diedrich hung his head. From behind the now closed court room doors, he could have sworn he heard Hans announce a 'Heil Hitler'. Even after the Reich had fallen and the Führer was declared dead, Hans still held his loyalty. So many men did.

Jackson continued sorting his papers in preparation for the next trial, muttering beneath his breath. "May the Lord have mercy on your soul…"

When Diedrich was finally called to the stand, the courtroom had been silenced. They watched warily as the young ex-camp guard rose and took his place before the jury. He could feel their eyes pry at him, looking over and mocking his perfect Aryan image, the image that he was certain would ruin him. Fiddling with the headset he had been wearing, Diedrich attempted to tune it to guarantee that he would be getting proper reception. His English still needed improvement, and the thought of misunderstanding worried him. Once he had finished, he faced the stand before him silently, until Jackson's voice rose up, catching his attention.

"Diedrich Himmelreich," he read from the records before him, "Totenkopfverbände division, Rottenführer rank. You served as a guard at Auschwitz-Birkenau, is that correct?"

Diedrich kept his lips pressed tightly together at first, waiting for his translator to send the signal. "That is correct."

"Sent in 1941? That was a rather long period to serve there, Herr Himmelreich."

"They liked me." Diedrich spoke softly. "I was young and there wasn't much opportunity."

"Many young men were moved to the front."

Diedrich shrugged. "They liked me, as I said before. They said I was obedient and loyal, something they didn't usually find in the younger recruits."

Jackson took a moment to file through the notes he had taken and the various records before him. Although the court room had fallen silent, Diedrich knew he was being watched. Sweat formed on his brow and he quickly wiped it away with his handkerchief, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Crimes against peace and waging wars of aggression," Jackson continued, "I find no record of such in your history. Is that correct?"

Diedrich nodded. "Yes, sir. At least, not that I have been aware of."

A few muffled voices surrounded him now, speaking of the higher officials and their walking away with counts one and two almost indefinitely. A young camp guard, they assumed, surely wasn't involved. Yet, Diedrich knew that didn't free him. Jackson's frown became more prominent as he looked over to him. Next would come counts three and four, counts Diedrich feared to hear.

"War crimes, acts against prisoners. These usually are doubled with the crimes against humanity." Jackson's voice had become stern. "Herr Himmelreich, we have several instances where you have been stated to commit these atrocities. Records held in the camp itself and witnesses point to many of these cases."

Diedrich felt his throat burn as he tried to swallow, eyes now fixated on the stand before him. How much did they know? He asked himself this question multiple times as he stood at the stand, trembling.

"You worked partially as a barber in the camp it reads in one of the record books retrieved by Soviet troops. Shearing hair off of inmates, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir… before they assigned prisoners to do it. It was my first job there."

"There are claims, Herr Himmelreich, of assault. Verbal, physical, and mental. Multiple accounts of murder. Do you wish to attest to this?"

Diedrich swallowed hard, his hands gripping the sides of his stand. He stammered, but couldn't manage to form the words he needed. It was all becoming a blur. Jackson waited for a response, and when Diedrich was unable to give it, he motioned a young woman forward.

"Herr Himmelreich, we have a witness that would be willing to provide evidence on the matter for counts three and four."

The woman watched Diedrich with fearful eyes, lips formed into a frown. In her short sleeved dress, Diedrich was able to make out the numbers that were tattooed into the flesh of her forearm, causing him to flinch.

"Whenever you wish to begin," Jackson motioned to her.

"I was imprisoned at the camp with my mother," the young woman began, keeping a close watch on Diedrich as she spoke. "I remember clearly the day we arrived. We were brought in cattle cars… cramped and filthy cattle cars. There was hardly any room to move. My mother told me we would be alright. To be brave. But, I could not be brave. Not when we arrived. They herded us out like animals, yelling. There were so many of them, standing with their guns pointed at us, dogs barking all around… and the smell. My God… I will never forget the smell."

Diedrich bit his lip as he continued to watch the young woman. He didn't remember her and he wasn't sure how she could have remembered him. There were many guards, as she had mentioned, all dressed alike and standing there, urging the prisoners on. How was it she would remember him?

"As we were being brought through the gates, there was one woman who had been on the train with us… she had a baby. An infant. One of the guards was trying to separate it from her. I remember her screaming and begging. She attacked him, clawed at his face… his eyes. He struck her and pulled his gun on her and threatened her."

Diedrich's body froze.

"One of the other men approached and asked what was going on. I couldn't hear everything, but they were kicking dirt at the mother, and by this time, the baby started crying. 'Shut it up!' I recall them saying, and one of the officers called a young guard over…" She broke her statement and looked to Diedrich. "Why don't you tell them what happened next?"

Diedrich closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. His body was trembling, if not on the outside, at least within. He felt as though he were going to burst, sickness bubbling up from his gut and into his throat.

"I-I… I don't remember…"

"You killed them!" the woman shrieked violently. "Shot them both! The mother, how she begged you to stop, to spare her child. But you didn't… No! You did it. Did it without thinking. You murdered them." Tears now formed in the corners of Diedrich's eyes as he shook his head. "You can't deny it!"

Jackson raised an eyebrow to Diedrich, tapping his pen against the record book. "Do you deny it, Himmelreich?"

Diedrich didn't answer. He couldn't answer. His lips quivered and his head hung low, eyes irritated from the thoughts and blinding memories. The cries of the infant swirled through his head as he clenched his teeth together and whimpered. "N-no…"

"What was that?" Jackson leaned forward.

"No! …no, I don't deny it."

The once silent courtroom was now filled with gasps and chatter. Though he was unable to make out what anyone was saying, Diedrich began to feel the collar of his button down shirt tightening around his neck. Death, he kept thinking as he tightened his grip again on the stand, that's what they'll give me… a noose around the neck, just like Hans. His shoulders trembled as he closed his eyes again, tears now finding their way down his cheeks. He couldn't control them, no matter what he tried.

"Herr Himmelreich," Jackson spoke, "we do have another witness who would like to testify."

Diedrich shook his head. He couldn't bear to hear any more. The memories of the mother and her child were enough for him. What more could be said? Was it the time he threw down and kicked the elderly man? What about the time he disposed bodies to the crematoriums? Or the time at the blocks during the execution? Surely there were many a witness could pull from. He ran his fingers through his light strands of hair, the sickness rushing through him again. But would any of them tell the truth? Tell he was scared? He was forced?

"Fraulein Grünwald, if you would." Jackson motioned to the next witness.

Upon hearing the name, Diedrich steadily glanced over to the stand, watching as the young woman approached. Her brunette hair fell in wavy curls at her shoulders, lips painted a light rose. Although she was a fragile build, her abdomen was somewhat protruded, a child of her own soon on the way. Diedrich swallowed hard as he watched her, his eyes fixed on a book that rest against her chest. Once she was settled at the stand, she peeled the cover open, permitting herself to speak.

"While my counts of Herr Himmelreich's actions against the laws could be great, that's not why I have chosen to stand here. I may not have been a prisoner at the camp, or a witness to the many crimes that may have been committed, but I was witness to other acts."

The young woman skimmed through the pages of the book. She stopped once she found what she was looking for—a photograph of a young girl no older than seven taken the year prior; the winter of 1944. Sewed to her dress was a star, Jude inscribed within it. Holding it up, the woman peered at Diedrich from the corner of her eyes.

"Eva," she was quiet, "is her name… a young girl from Juddenstausse. Her family was murdered in a Gestapo raid and she managed to survive. She remained hidden from them for months, if one can believe it… eventually discovered by Herr Himmelreich. He took her in and hid her while on his leave in Berlin and cared for her."

Diedrich's eyes widened steadily as he stared at the photograph. Sure enough, it was little Eva, smiling her bright smile. Yet, as much as he longed to speak, he waited for the witness to conclude.

"She was taken one afternoon by a group of soldiers and put on a train headed for Birkenau. Herr Himmelreich was devastated and followed the train. Sure enough, from the ice and snow into Poland, it was slowing and not able to reach the camp on schedule. In fact, the train never made it to the camp. Isn't that right, Diedrich? The train went missing and was later reported to have been "sabotaged"… the prisoners gone. I have record of it… right here," the woman turned through pages of the book, running her finger down passages. "The commander of the camp wrote it down in here, stating that he was informed it was a young guard in the Totenkopfverbände dress. There are many places throughout this book… places stating Herr Himmelreich would be turned over to the authorities for insubordination and betraying the Reich. They knew. They even mentioned the girl…"

Jackson continued to watch Diedrich. The ex-guard quivered at the thoughts, hands now wringing the handkerchief again.

"And that was what destroyed her in the end. He couldn't protect her forever… but he certainly tried. They found her one night, a group of Gestapo men ordered to look for any stragglers. They murdered her… And Diedrich… God bless his heart…was devastated. He loved that girl like his daughter, and I know she loved him. And, if she were here to testify with me, she would be. Tenfold what I have told you."

"Eva…" Diedrich's voice was quiet, but it was enough to get the attention of the court.

A woman rose from one of the seats in the courtroom, the jury turning to her. "The cattle car…" Diedrich looked to her next. "Yes! You were the young soldier, weren't you? The one who had it stop? You saved not only my life, but my daughter that day. We have been eternally grateful. So many lives… so many of us you rescued from slaughter. I remember now. The young man who was looking for a girl. Himmelreich."

Jackson cleared his throat once Diedrich was facing the front again. "Well, Himmelreich, what do you have to say on the matter?"

Diedrich didn't speak. Instead, he simply removed an old pocket watch from his chest pocket and carefully opened the cover. Inside was a photograph of a little girl situated between a young man and woman. It was the same little girl in the picture that Fraulein Grünwald had presented. To the right of her sat Diedrich, dressed in his tunic; and to the left was the young woman who passed the book to a guard for Jackson to review at the witness stand. After another moment in silence, Diedrich finally parted his lips.

"I-I'm afraid, your honor… I will have to plead guilty."

Fraulein Grünwald's lips parted as she stared at him in disbelief. Another hushed whisper ran through the court before Diedrich smirked and slapped the cover of his pocket watch shut.

"Guilty? On what terms, Herr Himmelreich?"

"Guilty for being a fool. A fool who ran away from home to join something he never believed in. A fool who broke code and learned to have compassion for a young girl who was an enemy of the state. A fool who sabotaged a cattle car heading to Birkenau, only to end up saving undesirables and break more laws. And, a fool who can't get the memories out of his head of waking every day knowing that he has done wrong. So, yes, I am guilty. Guilty for many things and I will not deny it. And it is because of that guilt that I am brought before you today for your judgment. I will say no more."

Jackson stared at Diedrich for a long while, then looked back to the jury. They were almost in as much shock as he had been. Yet, he knew the decision was up to him, and it would be final. Releasing a deep breath, Jackson frowned.

"Herr Himmelreich, you have been tried and found guilty of counts three and four before the eyes of the court. The necessary punishment for your rank and division under these counts is four years imprisonment." Diedrich stiffened as the court began rustling again. "However. Due to evidence that was found and presented here today, it is decided that the imprisonment will be uplifted, and your counts acquitted at this time. Should any further cases be brought up, however, there may be reconsideration. But, for now… you are dismissed."

Diedrich wasn't sure of what happened. He continued to stand at his post, gaping slightly as Fraulein Grünwald hurried to his side, throwing her arms around him. She kissed his cheek tenderly and smiled, gazing into his bright, misty blue eyes.

"A-Annemarie," Diedrich choked. "H-how… why did you…?"

"I had to," the young woman smiled. "They had to know the truth. So many young men have gone punished for crimes that they shouldn't be held responsible for. I know time and time again you tell me how you wish you didn't obey orders… how that's all they were. Orders. Eva wouldn't have wanted her side to go unheard."

Diedrich nodded sadly as Annemarie took hold of his hand and gently rest it against her abdomen. There was a small movement within, and Diedrich tensed at first, but then looked to her curiously. "And besides… I wouldn't want our child to grow up without his father."

"Annemarie…," Diedrich stammered. "I-I don't deserve it. You know that. After what I did to that woman and—"

Annemarie kissed his cheek again. "Perhaps this is your chance for redemption. Jackson already gave you a second chance, maybe this time the Lord is."

Diedrich thought for a moment before nodding his head to her with a slight smile. Pressing his lips to her forehead, he took her hands into his and gave them a gentle squeeze. "…thank you…"

As the courtroom departed into the closing of the afternoon, one of the men on the jury approached Jackson. He cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up on his nose before motioning towards the doorway where Diedrich and Annemarie stood.

"The boy…why did you…?"

Jackson shook his head with a smirk. "The Nazis always were known for keeping more records than they should have. Who would have thought it would have been to their benefit?"

"I don't understand," the man replied.

"Sometimes the clear-cut evidence isn't always what one sees. I can't say that what the boy did was right, but he had a heart. The last few days, all the men that have come in here are like animals. They have no compassion, no sympathy, and no regret. Himmelreich was different. He's human… and I know he understood those people in the camps were human, as well."

"Perhaps…"

"And he can rest assured that he'll sleep well tonight. After all, he's got a little angel looking over him."

"Sir?"

Jackson smiled. "A little angel who I know he still loves. The real crime he committed wasn't what they think. His crime was simply that. He learned to care for a little girl society wouldn't allow him to. And because he learned to love her, he lost her. That is his punishment. And I can assure you that it is far greater than anything we could have dealt him. But, I know he knows that somewhere, there's a little angel smiling upon him. The same little angel that sat among us today and gave our final judgment here at Nuremberg."

PROLOGUE

          

I still remember that summer—the summer before the storm. Our nation was slowly rising from the ashes of depression, rebuilding itself under the veil of our new chancellor. Adolf Hitler. It was the first time in years we were given hope; a hope which many of us thought had been lost long ago. I was young at the time, fresh out of schooling and looking for a promising career. I spent most of my days beneath the trees in Berlin, sharing the afternoon with the love of my life—sweet Annemarie.

Even then, I had my doubts about the lives we would soon be leading. Annemarie had always been a peace lover. She spoke out against intolerance, violence, and even the army itself. The army into which I would soon be enlisting. Looking back, if I had known our fates, perhaps I would have joined her that day.

Though the summer was clear and our spirits were high as a nation, we never dreamed of the horrors that lie just over the horizon. How the signs were so clear, many say, but to this day, I still claim to be oblivious. I never saw it coming, nor did many of the others. We were blinded. Blinded by false hope. All of us. Evil hid behind the faces of our great leaders, in their propaganda and lies which slithered though their smiles. They were supposed to be our white knights, our saviors, but now I see they were only liars and frauds. Annemarie warned me long ago of their treacherous ways, but I denied it. How I longed to be one of them, serving the Fatherland, and protecting the ones that I loved. Yet, protecting was hardly what my position called for.

There are times I wish we could return to that summer; the nights we sat on your father's porch and watched the stars and slept by your pond with the comfort of the swans. I can still see you standing there that evening, your pale dress hopefully swaying in the breeze as I bid you farewell. I still envision your brown eyes, dark as ebony, but beautiful all the same. Yes, I still see them, shielded often by your thick nut-brown curls. You weren't the face of our nation—part of our Aryan race—but to me, you were still beautiful.

You never took the dispatch lightly and I know to this day you still resent me for it. Looking back, there are times when I, too, am regretful. Often the memories of war cloud those of you and my heart longs to have never believed their lies. I've done far more wrong than any man in one lifetime should. Some was unwilling and some was with the full intent. I was the worst of the breed; yet, you still loved me. Even the day I dragged you through the gates screaming and bleeding, threw you to the wolves, you still cared. Your bruised, perfect face tear stained from my hatred. My duty. How I wish I could have taken it back.

My dearest Annemarie, whatever it was you saw in me, I shall never know. You told me that day, the day I left to serve the SS, that I was your hero. I'm no hero. No, I'm anything but that; yet, you still believed in me, even after I betrayed you. For that, you will always have my heart.

Although the summer will never return, its warmth and love will forever blaze through my memories. I will always remember the long afternoons in Berlin waiting for you beneath the old trees. I'll remember your sweet scent of strawberries, the little ringlets of gold that found their way into your hair when the sun reached its peak. I'll always remember you for who you were before the darkness, as I hope you will always remember me. I'm sure if all who had been lost during those years could have recalled a time, they too would have chosen that summer. Oh, sweet Annemarie, my heart has never known such pain. The innocent, how they were slaughtered mercilessly from our hatred; my brothers, cold and lifeless from betrayal; and you…

I will never forget the horrors I lived through those bloody and treacherous years. Nor will anyone. So many innocent lives were lost; the children weeping against mothers while their fathers were torn from their arms. Turmoil surrounded what we believed was the path to our eternal kingdom. How wrong we were.

If they could have been here today, I'm certain their words would be of greater meaning than mine. Your dead will never be forgotten; for they live on within the hearts of the world. No one will ever forget. There is no need for further tears, as the past is the past. However, I still believe that those lost deserve a proper tribute, a voice to speak the words they never could. I owe so much to you, Annemarie, for all you have done for me. May the winds carry well these words through the burned fields and across hazy skies. Perhaps one day, life will grow again and we'll find the light from the heavens once more shining upon our nation. Until then, this is all we have to hold onto.

In memory of all who were lost in the violence of our madness…

This is their requiem.