Operation Ganymede - 2. Chapter 2 - The Decisive Interview

Ten minutes had passed since the "blond" entered. Still, no one else had arrived. Why this summons? And why so soon, barely three days after the camp had begun?

At the Academy, which he had joined last September (it was now July), he had only been summoned by the School Officer once, and even then, only for the admission interview, as the regulations required. (Okay, fine, if you excluded the reprimands for indiscipline... but those only involved a non-commissioned officer and clearly didn’t carry the same weight!) So, why now, and why so soon?

Finally, the door opened, letting the "blond" out. He crossed the threshold without a glance, heading quickly toward the stairs. He grabbed the first step and disappeared almost instantly from sight.

— Klein?
— JA! KAMERAD KLEIN, SQUAD B, STAMM ACADEMY, MEIN OBERLEUTNANT!
— Perfect. Come in.

The room resembled a large library. Rows of books neatly arranged behind glass cases lined the walls. On the right, a sitting area with a sofa and three armchairs surrounded a thick rug. On the left, a large table held several unfolded staff maps. Behind an enormous desk sat the officer, who gestured briefly for Klein to position himself in front of him.

The adolescent stood at attention. Hands pressed against his thighs, head held high, eyes straight ahead. Just as he had learned in his earliest years among the "pimpfes," when he was still a child.

— Klein... Klein...

The officer rummaged through a stack of files to his left. The first... the second... Then he pulled out a beige folder, with a photo pinned to the cover. He quickly leafed through it: one page, two, three...

— Ja... Perfect!

Turning back to Klein, still motionless:

— Arnfried Klein, is that correct?
— JA, MEIN OBERLEUTNANT!
— At ease.
— THANK YOU, MEIN OBERLEUTNANT!

Klein spread his legs slightly, crossing his hands behind his back while keeping his head high.

— How old are you?
— Fourteen, mein Oberleutnant!
— To the month, please?
— Pardon, I turned fourteen in April, mein Oberleutnant.
— So?
— Fourteen years and three months, mein Oberleutnant!

The officer nodded while reading the first page of the file.

— I see that you are a diligent student, ranking in the top half of your class in general subjects. Is that correct?
— Ja, mein Oberleutnant!
— Excellent. Good shooting results as well?
— Ja, mein Oberleutnant!
— What do you prefer: rifle, pistol, submachine gun?
— Target shooting, mein Oberleutnant!
— With a rifle, then?
— Ja!

A faint smile crossed the officer’s face.

— That’s what your instructor indicates. Boys like you are valuable. You could become a sniper. Keep training, perfect your skills. Over and over.
— Ja, mein Oberleutnant!

The officer’s gaze lingered on the boy for a moment before continuing:

— And sports?
— ... ?
— A favorite sport?
— Uh... running, mein Oberleutnant.
— And swimming?

This time, the officer abandoned his papers to look directly at Klein.

— Ja... well, yes... also.
— Step closer.

Klein obeyed, stepping into the space between the officer’s legs. The officer turned slightly in his chair, placing one hand on the boy’s chest and the other on his back.

— Stand up straight. Heels together. Chest out. Like that.

The officer pulled out calipers and measured Klein’s skull.

— Ja... Perfect!

He then moved to the nose, examining every detail with a hair and color chart.

— Very interesting. Brunette A+. Perfect Aryan.

A sudden pat on the front of the shorts snapped Klein out of his thoughts.

— Tomorrow, it will be up to you to ensure the renewal of our race. The beautiful and unique Aryan race. You understand?
— Y... yes.

The officer dropped his stance, visibly relieving Klein.

— What does your father do?
— He works at the Dresdner Bank, mein Oberleutnant.
— And your mother?
— She’s at home. She takes care of us.
— How many of you are there?
— Three, mein Oberleutnant.

The officer quickly scanned the file.

— Your father is in France, near Paris?
— Ja. He writes to us every week. He did...
— Ja, ja. I know. It’s written here. Let’s get back to you.

The boy instinctively adjusted his posture, but his mind remained unsettled by the puzzling encounter.

— I summoned you because I will select four boys. Two Jungvolks and two Hitlerjugends. They will be personally trained by me and detached from their squads to live here, at the manor.

Klein swallowed hard, surprised.

— For now, I’m meeting the candidates one by one. I haven’t made my choice yet, but you will be informed, whether or not you are selected. Any questions?

Too stunned to speak, Klein shook his head. The officer closed the folder and, without further ceremony, dismissed him with a gesture.