The slow whine of the turbine blades ground his past into oblivion. The silence made him incapable of hearing. Motionless, all he could see was doubt on his new brethren’s faces. As the plane became aloft with this new family the searing buildup of the engine’s roar terminated what was once him. The plane sighed heavily as the wheels left the steady course. The gear slammed into the underbelly of the silver behemoth and the mouths of the beast sealed all aboard into a single fate. The plane was permanently secured preventing the escape of a single soul.

As the seat drained away his strength, he cautiously and gently placed his head back against the rest. His limbs were limp and only his eyes could scan his surroundings. This was his first flight and the next eight hours were the required brewing times to permanently change him into a soldier. The baggage stuffed into the cargo hold could be seen in the back of the plane. Nothing but a myriad of duffle bags and shades of olive green garb wrapped in cellophane. The smell of the human moisture and the searing heat was all he could sense. His new family was crammed into the cocoon with every individual having shaved heads, khaki clothes, and slightly scuffed shined shoes. The men sat ten to fifteen abreast and close enough to smell the starch and stench of military chow. Each faced not their luggage as their eyes would want them to believe but the last of what they had left behind.

Sleep. Sleep and a new world would come. His eyes at last said goodbye as his mind slipped into a daydream as he said goodbye to his past one final time. The visions and voices that would become only the past pervaded his mind and rushed him to silent contemplation of what the world formerly was. The look of his former home slowly faded into view.

As he gazed at the once familiar site in his mind he began to notice the constant grayish surroundings. For eighteen years he has spent his life in this house and yet he never really noticed how dreadful it looked. He realized that he had to be thousands of miles away to see what he left behind. He was not the least bit sad.

He knew his former home was bright blue. He noticed the fumes of the plane and how it reminded him of his father when he came home late at night from the steel mill. In his mind he approached his once shadowy home and rubbed ash from the rotted wood siding. The ash was deposited by the nearby smoke stacks. The roar of the plane reminded him of the constant noise from the mill and how he always had to yell to his father just to speak to him so he could hear.

"Pat!" His mother called from a distance far greater than she could realize. "There is a letter from the college you applied to. Hurry up and come see." He sometimes saw his mother three times a day for just a few minutes and on other days just once. Breakfast was the only time that he had the occasion to see her, but not necessarily speak to her. When he came home from school or when he came home from work he would see her if she were not busy with his brothers or his sisters.

At that moment in the heat of the aircraft he realized a transition had occurred. He was no longer a teenager despite being nineteen. For some unknown reason as a teenager he did not want to speak to her. He realized that only a teenager would torture their parents in such a way. Now that he is miles away he tried to remember the sound of her accent and the tenderness of her voice. He really did not know. He longed to hear just one more time. He wanted to speak to her at long last and now he may never get the chance.

"What did she say?" He asked himself in his mind. For some unknown reason her words would not repeat. The plane buffeted him and violently shook as if to say, "Forget her. There is no turning back. You’re mine." The soon to be soldier swallowed hard and paused to take a deep breath, but he could not. The stench was too great and that too reminded him of home and the factory.

He drifted back to what was once his former home and approached the front stoop. He pulled on the screen door. The creak of the stoop and the banging of the door caused him to stop. He ran his finger across the exterior and saw the buildup of the soot. The blue paint underneath showed through the dirt free finger mark. He stepped into the huge blackness of the house as the steel mill film covered every square inch of him but yet he did not notice. The desire to escape filled him with anger and aggression. Fight or flee and now was the time to act………….

_________________________________

A yellow Mercedes taxi glided smoothly over the cobblestone street of Paradis Strasse in downtown Cologne in West Germany. The occupants searched for prey and the streets were littered with potential victims. The wealthy Financier stood on the street corner with his briefcase waiting. The politician and his entourage exited from their luxury cars for a meeting with local businessmen. An Arab Sheik darted toward an expensive jewelry store, but the owner greeted him before he got inside. A local celebrity egotistically showed himself to the public to see what kind of response he would get on a busy street. Several parked cars blocked the flow of traffic. A bus unloaded a torrent of ever more people, who crowd the sidewalks and shops looking for their own piece of Germany.

Franz Mueller hidden behind a curtain of flowers on the fourth floor of an office building watched the unending flow of people and the confusing scene. "Heinrich, watch the bus and let me know if you see them." He commanded over his radio. "Gertrude stay with the Arab and the jewelry. Erich, I see two people approaching the mayor and his group. See if you can work your way around to confront them. Be very careful. We know this is the time and place." The detective was used to this type of action. He played a big part in capturing most of the Meinhof Gang and these last two were not going to get away.

Franz threw open the window and the cool breeze blew his graying black hair and chilled his long mustache. The big Agfa sign got in his way as he looked around on the sidewalk below for the local police that were assigned to him. They were nowhere to be found. "This is the last time I’m going to let the locals pick my command post. How can anyone see with this sign in the way? Where in the hell are they?" he said to himself. Crowds were gathering around the celebrity and the Polizei assigned to him were directing the increasing traffic. Fortunately, they were where he wanted them. Casually, his hair was tossed back as he moved back inside of the room.

The Mercedes stopped behind several cars as the line continued to grow. Franz spotted the two people as they got out. This seemed a little unusual to him since they did not reach their destination. They were in the middle of the road. The taxi quickly went into reverse and duct down an alley. "Actung!" He yelled over the radio. "Two people coming up on your left Heinrich. Both of them are wearing trench coats in nice weather. This must be Dieter and an accomplice. Gertrude, move to the other side of the street. Erich follow them I can’t see their faces. The woman has long blonde hair and the man has black hair, black mustache. Watch for the coats people! You will not miss them."

Franz thrust his head out the window again and yelled down to the local police, but they were unable to respond. "Heinrich! The woman just split off from the man. She’s on the other side of the street. Erich you’re the closest. Work your way around the crowd. Erich! She passed right by you did you see her. Turn around! Turn Around! Gertrude! Erich is stuck in the crowd. She seems to be heading toward the celebrity. Heinrich your man is walking up to you. Stay between him and the Mayor."

"This is Erich, I’m out of the crowd."

"Good, Heinrich stay with the Mayor. Erich pick up the man he is on your right. About ten meters."

"Alright, I see him."

"Good, follow him I think he is Dieter. Try to get a good look at him. Gertude where are you?"

"My target stopped and looked in a shop window just below you." Franz looked down again to see, when the man that Erich was following spotted him. Abruptly, the man turned and got into a parked gray Citroen just on the other side of the crowd.

"Franz, I don’t think this is our man. He just got into a car and he is currently heading toward Gertude."

"Erich catch up to him! Don’t let him get away and do not give yourself away!"

"This is Gertrude. The woman is crossing the street now heading away from the crowds."

"Get across the street without her seeing you. I want you to face her down if need be." Gertrude ran across the street and out of view of the woman, but not out of view of the driver. When the woman reached the other side, she came face to face with the Financier.

"Excuse me. Could you please tell me the time?" she asked the man with an innocent smile.

Gertrude stood back from the man and carefully observed. She had her hand on her pistol in her pocket just in case. Erich strolled up just as the gray Citroen stopped at the nearby corner.

"Yes, the time is one o’clock," the man said with an enamored smile.

The woman glanced over at Gertrude and then back at the car. The man in the car put his hand in the form of a pistol and gave her a stern look. The woman just looked back at the Financier and paused.

"I said the time is one o’clock, young lady. Did you hear me?" The woman hesitated again. The man in the car honked his horn and yelled her name out the window at her. "I think your friend there is getting a little impatient Miss. Maybe you should hurry before he gets too upset." Erich looked over at the woman and quietly mouthed her name.

She looked at Gertrude who made a casual glance at her. Erich glanced back at the man and then back to the woman. He attempted to watch both the man in the car and the woman at the same time. Suddenly, the man got out of the car and yelled, "You drive and shoved her back toward the car. As he swung back around toward the Financier, Gertrude and Erich he pulled a submachine gun and fired. Gertrude and Erich were hit before they could pull their weapons. The Financier was shot repeatedly in the chest. The man turned around and shot up at Franz’s position then above the heads of the local police. He jumped into the car and drove away quickly.

Franz ran out of his perch and down to his people. Gertrude was found to be dead and when he got to Erich he was gasping for air.

"Hold on, son! Hold on, help is on the way. In a daze the fallen man blindly gazed around at the crowd that was gathering and with his last wheezing breath mumbled, "Jutta."

__________________________

...Franz went for a long walk as he sorted out what he was to say to the man who was his mentor, his partner, his dear friend, and Erich’s father. As he passed the opera house there were two men playing musical instruments for a crowd that had gathered on the steps. One of the men was playing a guitar and the other had a trumpet. Franz stopped to listen and soon realized why the crowd was so small. The music was so bad that Franz wondered why people were standing around in the first place. He thought that maybe these people were just waiting for the box office to open. He glanced down at the instrument cases and noticed that there was no money inside and he was tempted to contribute something to get them to stop playing. Possibly he should donate some money to them because with such awful music they must be broke and maybe extremely hungry.

"What do you think of these guys?" He leaned over to a man standing next to him.

"It’s new wave with an air of the late jazz greats," the man responded.

"Uh-uh," Franz grumbled to him. "I think they just stink," he said to the man who then took a couple of steps away from him. Franz looked up at the Opera House and remembered the last time he went to the Opera. He had seen Don Giovanni about ten years ago. That was before his daughter was born and he not been to an Opera since. Suddenly, a man bumped into him. He felt a hand go after his wallet. Franz swung around quickly and grabbed at the individual. The thief took off running in one direction and the man who bumped into him went the other. The confused detective stood motionless wondering which one to run after. He did not know which one took his wallet.

In an instant the guitar player chased after one of the men. The trumpeter handed Franz his trumpet and said calmly, "Could you hold that for me please? I’ll be right back." He then chased after the second man. Franz stood in disbelief that not only was he robbed, but there were two people chasing after the suspects.

The first man with the guitar watched his target run down the busy street and then duct into an alley. When he caught up to the alley, he was just in time to see the man run back onto a side street. The guitar player expected him to crisscross between side roads, alleys and main streets. The pursuer ran straight to the end of the alley as fast as he could. At the end he stopped and peered around the building. His man was running at full speed toward him. Fortunately, the thief was not looking and now the man waited for him in ambush. When the robber reached the corner of the building, the musician smashed his guitar right into the face of the robber. The man fell flat to the ground as the guitar cried out with a deep resonating twang.

The second man pursued his thief past office buildings and down to the waterfront. The robber attempted to outrun his pursuer by shear distance and on occasion he glanced back to see if the man was still after him, but the man only gained distance. After a kilometer and a half he grew tired and quickly ducted down into a waterfront park to hide in the bushes. However, he was spotted and he ran down to the sidewalk paralleling the river with his pursuer ever closer. When he glanced back to see where his pursuer was located he ran into an innocent bystander. As he stood to run some more the thief was knocked over the railing and into water by the musician. The thief could not swim and the pursuer had to drag him to the nearby dock.

Back at the Opera House Franz sat on the steps with the trumpet in his hands. The two instrument cases sat at his feet. Franz twirled the instrument around on his hand like he had seen many musicians do. He almost dropped it into one of the cases when one of the men walked up with his thief in handcuffs. He was soaking wet and said, "Hey be careful you’ll break that."

"I’m sorry," he quickly responded to the man as the wet men dripped all over the cases and the trumpet. Franz glanced in the other direction and saw the other man and said, "it looks like the other part of your duo doesn’t share your respect for the arts. His guitar appears to have had an accident."

"You know the chief is going to be very upset with you. We don’t own these instruments," the wet man said to the other.

"Well, I think you don’t seem to be able to understand something. Being all washed up is merely a figure of speech. Next time use some soap or go swimming away from the sewer. The two of you stink and I think the chief is going to notice that far more than he will the busted guitar."

"I’ll bet your prisoner there probably played that guitar better with his face than you did with all ten of your fingers," the wet man responded.

"I’ll agree with that," Franz spoke up.

The two men merely looked at him, paused then said, "Who asked you?"

"Here’s your wallet. It may be a little damp," the wet man said as he threw it onto Franz’s lap.

"You triathletes are just way too macho. How far did you two swim? One, two kilometers maybe after running three or four kilometers. I suppose there was some bicycles stashed somewhere between here and there. I ran only half a kilometer and I got my man. You have to learn to use your brain."

"Did you know that your brain is made up of 60% fat. I think that holds true for the rest of you too. You definitely have the body for a person who runs only half a kilometer."

"How do you know what my body looks like? Are you getting fresh with me?"

"What if I said yes," the two men threw their instruments into their cases.

"Harassment. That’s what you’re doing. I’m going to report you." The two men picked up their cases and began to leave.

"You guys are cops," Franz said rather foolishly.

"No! What makes you think so? Maybe the handcuffs?" the wet one said.

"I think it’s the way your wet clothes are sticking to your hard body," the other man said.

"Don’t tease me like that you beast." The two men began to leave.

"Wait!" Franz yelled.

"No!" the two responded in unison.

"See we do have some harmony and you didn’t think so. You also blow on that trumpet pretty good," the dry one said.

"Are you getting fresh with me again."

Franz took a few steps in their direction and yelled, "Wait, what unit are you with?"

"Go find it!" one of them yelled.

"Who are you?" Franz asked.

"Gerhard and Christian!" the other man responded.

"I’m Christian today."

"Oh no Christian wouldn’t allow his body to get into that shape."

"Hey, while you’re running, riding and swimming I’m making it with the ladies."

"Ladies don’t like bodies like yours."

"I’m a funny guy and ladies like funny. Don’t you like funny?"

"Are you making a pass at me again?"

"I thought you were making a pass at me."

"What if I was?"

"Jesus, you’re right I do stink. I need a hot shower."

"Don’t you mean a cold shower."