• Ludwig could not believe what he was seeing, what he was doing. Hundreds of people -- men, women, even children -- carted off to this place of horror, separated from their families, forced to work... all because they believed in something that displeased the Furor. And he was to guard them, to push them around, to herd them like cattle from work to bed. Since he’d joined the army, he’d been taught that what he was doing was the right thing, but something told him that it was wrong. Was it his sense of justice? More like a gut feeling? They’re humans, aren’t they? Just like me? Why does it matter what they believe...?
    “Hey, Ludwig.” said a voice to his left. He turned to see his elder brother Gilbert striding up to him, looking spiffy in his uniform. “Look at this. I just got promoted, just like that. From private to corporal.” He poked the shiny new pins on his jacket. “All I had to do was shoot this... one... who was annoying the Furor. It... it was so damn easy...” Though Gilbert’s voice was confident, it was evident that his confidence was fading fast. “Y-you should’ve seen me, bruder. He was all c-curled up in a little ball on the ground... begging for mercy and all. One little s-shot from my pistol and... and...” His voice cracked. “There was b-blood all over. H-his head popped open like a watermelon a-and...” He trailed off, unable to continue.
    “You hated every minute of it, didn’t you?” Ludwig put a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder. Despite being the younger of the two boys, Ludwig always knew he was the more mature one who needed to look after the usually playful and reckless Gilbert. In the back of his mind, Ludwig prayed for the soul of the man that his brother had killed.
    “Bruder... it was terrible...” Gilbert whimpered. “The l-look on his face was just... oh, God, I never wanna do it again. Never. I’ll... I’ll kill myself or something--”
    “Hush, Gilbert.” Ludwig said, pulling his brother into a hug. “You won’t kill yourself. You’re tougher than that; don’t speak of such things.”
    “Well, I’ll desert or s-something.” Gilbert said, trying his hardest not to sob. “Anything but this...” He paused, trying to regain his composure. “I don’t understand it, bruder. They’re people... just like you and me. Why are we taught to hate them so?”
    “Because the Furor says we have to.” Ludwig replied.
    “But we know better.” Gilbert protested.
    “Yes, we do.” Ludwig sighed. Being the more rational of the two, he strongly believed in following the rules an any orders given to him to a T. But what if those orders are unjust or unfair...? “There’s nothing we can do about it.”
    “Bruder, I hate this.” Gilbert said. “I want to do something. Hell, I can. With my kind of clearance, I could burst open these damned gates and--”
    “Shh, bruder.” Ludwig hissed. “The Furor hears you talking like that, he’ll shoot us both.”
    “I know, and I don’t really care.” Gilbert shot back. “Someday, Ludwig, I’ll do something. Something big. Something so big, the name Gilbert Beilschimdt will be known the world over...”
    “If you play like that, you’ll only wind up a martyr.” Ludwig said.
    “So what?” Gilbert replied. “I’ll be a hero, and I’ll have saved somebody. At least one person. That’ll make me happy, even if I am dead.”
    Before Ludwig could try to calm his brother down any further, a whistle sounded -- a call to posts. He gave his brother a stern pat on his back and said, “Better get moving. Orders are orders.”
    Most of the time.

    ----- ----- -----

    Ludwig stood at his post, silent as the grave, just outside the male worker’s quarters. His only duty was to guard unless he was requested to do something else by a higher ranking officer. Only guard and put down any rebellions that might try to arise. Easy enough. But he found himself having great difficulty as he stood in place hour after hour. He was struggling with what Gilbert had said, “So what? I’ll be a hero, and I’ll have saved somebody. At least one person. That’ll make me happy, even if I am dead... With my kind of clearance, I could burst open these damned gates...”
    Ludwig knew his brother well enough to know that Gilbert was one-hundred percent serious, and it was only a matter of time before he acted. There was no stopping him once he’d gotten this fired up. Now the question turned from whether Gilbert was going to perform the uprising to whether Ludwig was going to join him or not. Joining his brother would mean breaking the rules, virtually spitting in the eye of the orders he’d been given, and if he survived, he’d be dishonorably discharged and probably imprisoned for life or shot.
    If he survived.
    Ludwig sighed slowly. That was one side of the argument. If he somehow succeed and he and Gilbert managed to escape with the liberated workers, then what? He’d probably feel very good about himself, for starters. Sure, he’d have to leave his homeland, but maybe he could head to Austria. He had a friend who lived there, maybe he could stay with him for a little while. Or maybe flee south for Italy? He had friends there, too...
    It was going to be a difficult decision, and a life-changing one at that. But he knew that directly behind the doors he so diligently guarded were hundreds of pressed workers, begging and pleading for liberation. They’ve become slaves...
    The situation reminded him of a line he’d read in a book somewhere before. “Whoever saves one life, saves the world entire.” Could Ludwig give his career and possibly his life, the only things he knew, to save these prisoners?

    ----- ----- -----

    Next morning. Six A.M. Time for everybody to get up and go to work, soldiers and laborers alike. Ludwig was the first one to dress and head for the armory to pick up his rifle, as he was every morning. Gilbert was a little lazier, but caught up right behind his brother, and soon, the two boys were in line together.
    As Ludwig searched for his gun and pistol, he noticed a box of frag grenades lying completely unattended on a table not too far away. As a soldier, he was expected not to touch them unless instructed to do so. But what about as a human being...? He shook his head. It’s crazy; it’s insane.
    But it could work.
    Before he even knew what he was doing, he had walked over to the table and grabbed a few handfuls of the explosives and shoved them into his pockets before anybody could notice. Anybody, that is, except for Gilbert, who hissed from behind him, “The hell are you doing?”
    “To be honest,” Ludwig admitted. “I have no idea. But would you like to help?”
    It took Gilbert a few seconds to realize what his brother had in mind, but when it clicked, his bright red eyes widened. He patted his brother on the shoulder. “Thatta boy, bruder! I’ll take the east guard tower, you take the west. Blow it up and use it as a distraction, then aim for the fences. Sound good?”
    “I suppose.” Like it or not, Ludwig was already going to be in trouble for stealing grenades, so he thought, What else is there to lose?
    Before his brain got a chance to start coming up with the many things he did indeed still have to lose, he took off for the western tower. As he walked, he tried to look as casual as a soldier could, his hands on his rifle, his helmet strapped firmly to his head. I cannot believe I’m doing this... I cannot believe I’m doing this...
    Just as he approached the tower, an explosion went off to the east. Ludwig took that as his cue. He tossed a couple of grenades at his tower, and once the explosion went off, he bolted for the gates, ignoring the swearing and threats made to him in German from the other guards standing nearby. As he ran past the workers, he cried, “Follow me! Follow me and be free! The guards are distracted!”
    Only about half of the people he passed actually believed that one of their captors was going to let them go, but half was enough for Ludwig. He would have been content with just one person, so he was excited when he noticed the numbers growing gradually. Not too far off, he got a glimpse of his brother, grinning like a madman, tossing grenades at the barbwire fences and then all but shoving the workers out of the boundaries of the camp. He turned to Ludwig and sent him a traditional salute, a signal that all was going well... so far.
    Ludwig returned the gesture and got to work blowing open his own section of the fence. As the workers started rushing out of the hole and into the woods that laid beyond, he felt a rushing sensation hit him from all angles. Was it adrenaline? Possibly. A feeling of redemption? No, that wasn’t quite right. Relaxed? Hardly. Good? Could such a simple word be used to describe the situation? He didn’t have much time to wonder.
    The other guards finally realized what was going on and turned their attentions to the escapees, who’s numbers were growing by the second. Gunshots started going off from all directions, and Ludwig watched with horror as men and women fell dead before him in pools of blood. People started screaming, and amidst the chaos, he somehow wound up next to his brother, who was shooting right back at the guards. “Come and get some, you bastards!” Gilbert yelled, still grinning like a maniac, his red eyes flashing and making him look all the more menacing. “Come and get what you deserve!”
    Gilbert really was a lousy shot with a rifle, but despite his tactic to simply spray bullets at the guards, he did actually hit a few of them. They fell hard, only to be kicked aside or stepped on by their comrades. When one went down, two more took it’s place. Ludwig knew they were heavily outgunned and outnumbered, but he took the safety off his rifle and joined Gilbert, who had run out of ammo and turned to his pistol. Despite their efforts, something in the back of Ludwig’s mind told him that he was going to die.
    And yet... I am at peace with that fact...
    A tortured scream that rose above all the chaos like a shout to heaven, and something crashed heavily into Ludwig. He flung his arms out to catch himself before he hit the ground, and caught a body in his hands as he did so. A body wearing a corporal’s uniform, with silvery hair and bright red eyes... Oh, God, don’t tell me...
    Gilbert looked at his younger brother through half-closed eyes. A bullet from one of the guards had punctured one of his lungs, and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. “Ludwig...” he said, his breathing labored.
    “I’m here, bruder.” came the reply. “I’m here...”
    “Ludwig...” Gilbert smiled despite himself. “I’m... I’m proud of you... bruder... know that...” He closed his eyes for the last time and went limp in Ludwig’s arms.
    “Gilbert?! Gilbert!” Ludwig yelled, as if it would bring his brother back. “Gilbert... oh, Gilbert...” You weren’t kidding around when you said you didn’t care if you became a martyr, were you? I hope you’re enjoying it...
    After his brother went limp, everything seemed to become a blur. So many were dead... so many were executed because they were wounded... and so many more were executed because they tried to escape. Ludwig feared he had done more harm than good, but then remembered the numbers that had made it out of the gates before the guards had realized what was going on. It’s all right... death is a part of life, after all... and casualties are a part of war...
    Still, Ludwig was more than proud of what he had done. Even after the young worker boy tearfully identified him as the mutineer, even as they stood him up against a stone wall for his execution, even as the Furor himself took aim with his pistol, Ludwig didn’t feel any remorse at all, and he knew he never would. After what he’d done, he was feeling better than he ever had in his life.
    I know I may die now, but God knows how many lives Gilbert and I saved...
    The Furor pulled the trigger. Ludwig heard the gunshot, but felt nothing. There was a burst of flame from the pistol, and then blackness. Nothing more. Not yet.
    “Whoever saves one life, saves the world entire.”