You are a great story teller, tell me the story about the demonic horde of jews and the holy warrior called Hitler. I like that one.
No great loss here, wish there was video of him plowing through the crowd.
Long ago in a place called Bavaria there was a happy little boy named Adolf. Like most children growing up during the Gilded Age little Adolf was carefree and full of imagination. Europe was a stable and peaceful place during this time, scientific achievements were being made every day and it seemed utopia was just around the corner. But something dark and foreboding lurked beneath the thin golden facade of these good times, the dangerous seeds of war.
But none of this concerned young Adolf yet. He was still just a boy living with his mom and dad.
One day Adolf's father Alois gave him a book written by Karl May. May was a German author living in the United States, a place little Adolf would come to know very much as he grew up.
Adolf would read May's harrowing tales of cowboys, indians, and the lives of the American pioneers. The boy would stay up all night, flashlight in hand under the covers, as he read page after page of how the Americans faced adversity and rose above it as they pushed West through lands full of savage sub-human natives.
The American dream, as Adolf came to know it, was to fulfill what they saw as their birth right - to build a nation whose lands stretched between the Atlantic and Pacific, "From Sea to Shining Sea" they would say, it was an Americnan Dream known as Manifest Destiny.
The spark of love for the American way was thus seeded in the mind of little Adolf as one of his earliest memories. But reality soon set in as Adolf grew older. He was not an American pioneer. He was not Karl May.
Adolf sat under a tree and stared out at the wide open fields of the countryside. It was so beautiful. He didn't need to look to America for adventure or purpose, everything was already right here before him in Europe.
Another boy, the same age as Adolf, came by and sat down under the tree next to him.
"What's on your mind Dolphy," asked the boy.
"I don't know Auggy. 'They' say we all need to think of what we 'want to be when we grow up' but we haven't even seen the world yet. How can we know what we want to be when we haven't even seen what's out there, what's REALLY out there?"
The boy chuckled.
"Dad wants me to take over the family buisness doing upulstry. Can you picture me with a tacking hammer, stretching leather over couches my whole life?"
"August. Like I said to you before, go to the University of Vienna, get your degree, and become an orchestra conductor. That IS what you want."
"You know that's never going to happen Adolf."
"No. It will."
Adolf took a letter from his pocket and handed it to August.
The boy opened it.
"I've been accepted. Adolf, I thought you were joking when you said you would make them reconsider me. We might have some classes together!"
Adolf sighed.
"They accepted you. They said my painting were 'lacking'. They didn't specify what they lacked. They just wouldn't accept me, the admissions staff wouldn't know talent if it bit them in the ass, not true tallent anyway. I'm sure had I painted a grotesque face shitting dung like that Picasso they would have seen potential in me. Art has become a joke for them, nothing but a bunch of foreign Communists, Jews, sexual deviants - deciding what we Germans consider our own culture and art!? Where do they get the right!? The German people better wake up before it's too late."
Later that night Adolf went home. He stayed up all night painting like he never had before.
"I'll show them, I'll show everyone."
Months passed as Adolf wandered between parks, streets, and town squares peddling his watercolors for modest prices.
"Adolf? Who?" Asked a passing Parisian tourist. "What technique is this, where did you study?"
Adolf's face turned bright red as he took off his hat in embarrassment. "I am, self taught."
"Oh, how... charming. It's very old fashioned, isn't it." The woman put a coin into Adolf's hat and walked away.
Adolf took the coin and threw it. "I am not a charity case you Syphalitic whore!"
Adolf turned around only to find himself face to face with a policeman.
"That's enough son, clear out of here."
"It's a public square," Adolf protested.
The policeman removed his truncheon.
Adolf grabbed his things and ran off.
The radio was blaring in the cafe when Adolf stormed in.
"...troop movements into Serbia have commenced this the 12th of August 1914. Austria-Hungary, in a state of war since July 28th, has now engaged directly with ground forces in Serbia. His Majesty is expected to address the German people concerning this escalation of violence that now exists with our ally Austria-Hungary. German men, European soil is at stake, brave soldiers..."
"So the bastards finally found the balls to do it," said Adolf under his breath.
He ran out of the cafe leaving his things.
"You don't understand, I want to fight! Can't you hear what language I am speaking?!"
The recruiter chuckled.
"I don't reject you because I don't like you, you are rejected because you FAILED to meet the minimum requirements of the Austrian army!"
"How is that possible!?"
"You want your answer, here it is in writing - 'unsuitable for combat, unsuitable for support duty of combat, too weak, too thin, incapable of firing his weapon', need I go on!?
"I can do combat work, I can deliver messages, I can run, I can write, draft maps-"
"Go back to university kid! Get out of my sight!"
Adolf steamed with rage as he exited the recruiting office.
"Unsuitable for combat!? Unstable for support duty!? We have already lost this war if these are the people making the important decisions!"
It was raining. Adolf wandered the streets, cold and wet. He looked up at the sky. "Why are you doing this to me!? What have I done to be punished!?"
Adolf went home. His wet dripping clothes left a trail of water as he trudged up the squeaky wooden steps of the boarding house. He latched the bathroom door and removed his belt. He stood on the toilet and wrapped the belt around a ceiling pipe and put the other end around his neck.
He stood there for several moments, the sound of water dripping onto the porcelain besides him.
He removed the belt, stepped down and wept.
A knock came at the door to Adolf's door later that evening.
"Gustav?"
Adolf's roommate was standing in a clean new Austrian uniform.
"Pretty sweat huh Adolf, this army gig's got me out of this dump tonight, we're shipping out to training tomorow and then who knows - maybe march on France next! If it's anything like what my Grandfather tells, we will be in Paris and back home before Christmas! Can you imagine it, a chance to see Paris. That's right up your ally Adolf."
Adolf pushed the young man aside and stormed out of the room.
Some time later at the Bavarian army recruiting station.
"My hands are tied," said the recruiter, "your papers indicate you were born in Austria, so you can't join the German army, I'm sorry."
"I may have been born in Austria but I grew up in Bavaria. This piece of paper may say I am Austrian but German blood pumps through these veins!" Shouted Adolf.
The recruiter looked at Adolf bemused and rubber stamped his application.
"Aprooved?" Asked Adolf, his voice quivering in disbelief.
"It's not my job to talk you out of killing yourself."
A man handed Adolf a freshly pressed German uniform.
"Welcome to the German army son," said the man, "what's your name?"
"Adol- erm, Private Hitler sir."
The man saluted him.
Hitler saluted back.
"Carry on Private!"
And so Hitler's military journey had began. To be continued...
