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extend their territory to the regions governed by weaker races in order to gain more soil for the superior blood. The strong needed room to live.
    â€œIndeed so,” Herr Best agreed. But he was understandably sober. “We do not operate in a political vacuum, internationally. If such unification should provoke war—”
    â€œThen it will be a righteous war! Besides, Germany is strong, now. No more will the French intrude on our soil with impunity.”
    Ernst was listening, but his eye was wandering over the familiar yet newly strange scenery beyond the road. He noted the new buildings and reduced vegetation. He had traveled through here when in the Hitler Youth.
    â€œAnd what is your opinion, Ernst?” Karl inquired suddenly.
    â€œI prefer not to express opinions on matters which are beyond my competence,” Ernst said carefully.
    â€œThen express one on a matter within your competence,” his uncle said. “Demonstrate the manner your mind is maturing.” It was a challenge. Karl had never said so directly, but had always managed to convey the impression that Herr Best was a relative nonentity, and his son another.
    Ernst glanced at his father, who looked away. It was time for Ernst to perform for his fiery uncle, and take the consequences. If his sojourn in America had corrupted him, Karl would make him pay.
    He remembered the game of Truth he had played with his American friend Lane and Lane’s Quaker
Liebling
. This was like another episode of that. He could make of it what he chose.
    â€œThis region reminds me of my experience in the Hitler Youth,” he said. “I traveled this road then. I joined at age fifteen, when the program was rapidly expanding, and I enjoyed it and believe I did well. Today boys may join at ten, serving four years in the
Jungvolk
, the junior division, then four more in the senior division,
Hitler Jugend
, which we called HJ. I was too early, so lacked those first four years; I simply crossed over from one of the other youth programs.”
    â€œWhich makes you exactly like every other boy in Germany,” Karl said. The implication was that Ernst had no mind of his own. But to deny it would be a trap. How could he differ from the patriotic support of his country?
    Seeing the trap was tantamount to avoiding it. But he wanted to do more than that; he wanted to set his uncle back a step, to teach him some respect—without ever expressing any disrespect. There was the true challenge. So he allowed himself to walk further into the trap, seemingly.
    â€œPerhaps so,” he agreed. “There was no social pressure put on me to join; I simply liked the uniform and the programs and the camaraderie and the approval of my family. My father, working in the government, was a Nazi Party member, and of higher social status than that of the families in my neighborhood, which sometimes made for awkwardness. But in the HJ there were boys from all classes, and there were no social distinctions. In that framework, I could have any friends I wanted, including some my family might otherwise frown upon.” He glanced again at his father, who continued to fix his gaze elsewhere. “All of us were united in HJ in patriotism, and excitement. We camped out, we ate well, we marched in parades, we rode horses, paddled inflated rafts across wild rivers—well, flowing streams—rowed boats, motorcycled, climbed mountains, threw dummy hand grenades, flew gliders, and indulged in many sports. We boxed, participating in tournaments, winning prizes, developing ourselves physically. We sang, both patriotically and just for fun. We loved every bit of it.”
    â€œCompletely ordinary,” Karl said. “No individual character at all.”
    â€œCompletely,” Ernst agreed. “Except in the approved manner. We had an enhanced sense of responsibility and dedication. For the Hitler Youth in my day was run by youths rather than by adults. Here,