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The rain sprang up from the cold tar, darting to the left and right of Franz Weiher's boots like ricocheting bullets. The man kept his stride up, not slowing down once, even as the rain hammered down harder and little bits of hail started to shatter down onto the street and buildings beside him. His Schirmmütze shielded his face from the rain, and his thick leather coat held off the icy shells that dropped from the sky. He was whistling despite the roaring wind. Rosemarie. An old German Soldatenlied (soldier's song). Not another soul was out on the street to hear his tune, but he sang it with confidence and pride as if he were the lead in an unseen orchestra. 

The reason for his good mood was his return home. He hadn't seen Marlene or his children for a little over a week. With a bounce in his step, he strode up the steps to his front door and, to keep his early return a surprise a little longer, chose to ring the doorbell instead of stepping inside. Marlene or Theodore - that little rascal - would expect a neighbor or Postbote (mailman) when they opened up. Franz clutched a bouquet in his right hand, wet with rain but still holding up just fine, almost as if the flowers were too afraid of Franz's potential wrath to let the bad weather turn them bent. In his left hand, he held a little wooden truck, one he'd carved himself during a long night at the front. Theodore would love it, he was sure.

The door clicked open. Franz whipped out the truck, bending down to hold it out in front of him. Regarding the way the lock had been fumbled with, and the door had been tugged open with difficulty, he knew it must be his oldest son behind it and not his bride.

Theodore's eyes beamed as he saw his father, but Franz pressed a finger to his lips before he could cry out, signaling silence. He handed the overjoyed boy the wooden truck and gestured for him to call his mother.

"Mama! Mama! There's someone at the door!" He said as he jumped into Franz's arms, locking his arms around his father's neck.

Franz kept the flowers behind his back, waiting for his wife to round the hallway bend to pull them out and greet her with a large smile and a grand display of colorful roses. Marlene's hands shot up to her mouth in surprise. She hadn't been expecting until tomorrow.

"Franz!" she exclaimed. She rushed over to him and buried her face in his unoccupied shoulder, kissing his cheek several times after she'd pulled away. "Oh, if I had known you were coming, I'd have made more dinner!" Franz just smiled away her words and presented her with the flowers, which she took gratefully with another peck to his cheek.

"I'm sure we'll find something to make, darling, " he responded cheerfully. He looked at Theodore, who had started to drive his truck over the arm and shoulder of his father's leather coat, making low brum-brum noises to mimic its motor. "Has he been behaving?" he asked, the question directed more to his son than his wife.

"Oh yes, I have been Papa!" Theodore said with wide eyes. "I help Mama around the house, and if she's too busy to let me help, I play outside with Rolf and Jonas."

"I'm proud of you. It's good to help your Mama." He kissed the boy on the cheek before gently setting him back on the floor. "May I come in now, darling?" He asked his wife with an endearing smile.

"Of course! I'm sorry, I completely forgot."

Franz untied his boots and slipped out of them and directly into his Pantoffeln. He hung his coat on the coat hanger and his Schirmmütze next to it. Theodore had sprung off into the living room to play with his truck on the carpet. "And you weren't too lonely when I was away?" He asked softly, pulling his wife in close to him. She'd forgotten how strong he was. She nodded, staring up into his eyes. He smiled down at her. Then he leaned in and kissed her.

Theodore ran back to the hallway from the living room to tell his father the truck's wheels couldn't turn. When he witnessed his parents kissing, he turned around and covered his eyes. By the time he plopped back down onto the carpet and resumed playing with the truck, he'd already forgotten what he'd seen.

Franz picked his wife up. She automatically wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her all the way up the flight of stairs and into their bedroom. He closed the door behind him with a quiet thump.

***

Martin wasn't ready for Christmas. When he came home on Heiligabend (Christmas Eve), he found his children bouncing around in their new scarves - courtesy of Franz's mother, and munching on cookies Marlene had made with them the day before. It did not fit into the world he'd just left behind - the endless groaning of men on their deathbeds or on the slow recovery journey that Hirt coaxed them through.

Marlene practically flung herself around his neck, jumping into his arms as if she were a five-year-old girl, and he immediately smelled the alcohol on her breath. He couldn't tell if it was Franz's feelings or his own - but anger bubbled up inside him. She'd been alone with the children, and she'd been drinking. It was irresponsible. But he bit his tongue to keep back harsh words and instead pecked her on the cheek and kissed his children on the top of their heads.

As he hung up his coat, the children scrambled back into the living room. Marlene lingered behind. She lay her hand on his arm and gently squeezed. "Are you alright, Franz?"

Martin wasn't alright. But he didn't know what to say - he couldn't tell her about what he'd seen, and even if he could have, he wouldn't have. There was no sense in worrying Marlene about things she couldn't change.

He cracked a smile and shrugged. "Everything's as it should be, darling."

"Did you get the children anything from Starssburg?"

With a pang of guilt, Martin realized that he hadn't.