When I saw him walking toward my table I thought, Oh. This is going to be interesting.

I was calm. I was collected. I was ready.

He was 92 years old. A veteran. A fixture at this World War II commemorative event, one of the largest in the country. The program booklet lists him under Deutsches Jungvolk, the junior branch of the Hitler Youth, for boys 10 and under. He was 9 when he joined. The Hitler Youth was the Nazi Party’s youth organization, established to indoctrinate German children into Nazi ideology, train them in military discipline, and prepare them to be soldiers and supporters of the Third Reich.

Now this gentleman was walking toward my table. He stopped deliberately, not wandering from table to table the way others did. He had walked over with purpose.

He stopped. He looked at me. He said: Hi, I’m Herman the German.

I smiled and said: Hello.

He smiled. And then he said: Don’t get too excited. But I was in the Hitler Youth.

Most people in his position would hide it. Many would denounce it. He does neither. He introduces himself by it. Without apparent shame or regret. Just as a fact about himself that he leads with. I do not know what to make of that. But I notice it.

I touched his forearm. I looked him directly in the eye.

I said in a deliberate tone: I have never met anyone who was in the Hitler Youth. I am really interested in hearing about your experience.

He looked confused. I had taken him off guard.

I wondered in that moment if anyone had ever said that to him. In all the years he had introduced himself as Herman the German and announced unabashed that he had been in the Hitler Youth. Had anyone ever leaned forward and said: Tell me about it.

I said: I’m being serious. I have never talked with anyone who was in the Hitler Youth and I am very interested in learning about it. I paused.

I said: So what did your day look like?

He did not respond. I asked again. Nothing.

I tried again. How many days a week did you go? One day? A weekend? Multiple days?

He said: I went for the weekend.

I said: So what was the schedule like?

The veteran looked at me. Puzzled. Not someone leaning forward with specific questions about the mechanics of his experience. Not the granddaughter of a Holocaust survivor. I repeated the question and........

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