The girl is fifteen, and pretty, although you are not conscious of that at first. She has a good figure, but her legs are overdeveloped; her hair is light and would be wavy, if it were cared for, instead of being weathered and scraped into two heavy braids; the lines which fall heavily from the nostrils to the corners of her mouth — the stress-lines of the athlete — obscure the expression of her face, so that, as she speaks, her essential prettiness must fight its way through these marks of strain and neglect Besides, she wears the white blouse and dark-blue skirt and black stockings which are the uniform of the B.D.M., and not a very becoming one.
The foreigner is talking to her; he is young, too, and easily discouraged by her impersonal tone, her military voice, and the bitter cracks she makes when she accepts the cigarette he offers. “German women don’t smoke!” She bites the words off, and thrusts her face forward at the match he holds for her.
He is a little at a loss for conversation. “What would you like to be?” he asks, looking down at her bent head.
“A mother,” she snaps, and the inflection jangles. She straightens up, and lets the smoke go, slowly; this first cigarette tastes good. “No, but really,” she goes on, “there isn’t very much I can become. Good jobs exist for men only, and you know where woman’s place is. Or, if she isn’t in the home, but in a job, you can be sure it isn’t a good job!”
“But your father’s a professor,” the young man says, in relief, for at any rate she is talking now — “don’t you want to go to college?”
“That’s way out,” she answers, “with great difficulties before you can get in, and hardly a chance of getting anywhere afterward.”
“Or medical school — you could be a doctor, couldn’t you?”
“Well, they’ve banned women assistants in the State hospitals now, and that’s where you’d go after medical school. Anyway, 90 per cent of the medical set-up belongs to the State, and you’re officially banned if you’re married — and unofficially, if you’re not.”
“But there’s always teaching, isn’t there?” he suggests.
“Of course,” she explains, “I’d have to go to teachers’ training school. But I could do that. The regulation closing it to girls is only a provisional one, and that’s just bad luck for me….”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” the young foreigner says, breaking down a little, and trying to think of something reassuring to say. “But you have the B.D.M., haven’t you? That must be nice, you must like that — all the sports — and being with the girls — and farm life — and festivals —”
But she has stopped him with one look, a hard stare of mockery that cuts the words.
“Certainly I like the B.D.M.,” she is saying, “we have almost as good a time as the boys do — almost as much marching, and then we learn a lot about war, and we hear almost as many speeches as they do — yes, honestly, almost.”
She is starting to go, with the same look of necessity that the little boy had had when he spoke about his examinations. “I have to go to the registrar’s office,” she says. “My chum’s getting married.”
“Your chum? Is she as young as — I mean, is she fifteen, too?” the young man asks, startled.
“Sixteen,” the Hitler-girl answers, “and her fiancé is eighteen. But she’s going to have a baby, and so they’re getting married; their parents won’t give them any money unless they do, that’s about the only reason.”
The young man is embarrassed. He is not very sophisticated, and he is not talking well at all; in fact, he acts like an inexperienced young sociologist asking embarrassing questions in front of a grass hut. “But are they allowed to?” he is asking. “They’re both minors….”
“Allowed,” she repeats, “of course they’re allowed. The State wants children, and if there’s an old law, then someone makes a new one, and everything’s all right again, just like that!”
The young man has recovered a little poise. “I only meant that young men under twenty-one used to be minors, not permitted to marry.” He has been acting like a child; he must get used to changes, and not behave like an outlandish fool. I must adjust more quickly to these changes, he thinks, and holds out his hand for the paper she is giving him.
“Now they’re declared of age,” the girl says, “that makes it legal. Here, this is what they brought me from the registry — a present, they thought it was a good joke.” She watches him closely, with an appraising, laughing look, as he reads:
Umdruck Fam. 397/21. Berlin-Lichtenberg ________________ 19____ Circuit Court, Division 6. Before: A.G.R as judge there have appeared 1. -------------------- 2. --------------------(his father) 3. --------------------(his mother) all identified by papers and documents. The aforementioned I. declared: I appeal to you to declare me of age. I have been engaged since ____________ to ____________, ---- years old, who bore a child on ----------------, whose father I am. (Or, who is in the ---- month of pregnancy by me). I wish to marry my fiancée, who is a proper, industrious girl and a good housekeeper, so that I may be better able to take care of her and the child than is possible for me under present conditions. I am earning ------ a week, and can therefore provide for a family. We have a domicile (or, we will have a domicile). I understand the meaning of marriage. The aforementioned 2. and 3. declared: I -- We -- give our consent to the declaration of majority of my -- our -- son; we can but confirm his statements. Our son is a serious man and sufficiently mature to manage his affairs himself. The declaration that he is of age will be for his best. The aforementioned were informed of the decision that this request has been granted, as per this date. They declared: We renounce the right of having this judgment served on us, and we waive all rights to contest it legally. The aforementioned 1. asked for a copy of the judgment with certificate of legality attached. His birth certificate ------ family tree ------ were returned to him.
The young man hands back No. 397/21 with thanks. Here is no exception, but a common situation that requires printed forms and court orders — one of the matters common to Nazi everyday life. “‘Our son is a serious man and sufficiently mature’ to steal this stupid paper for me,” the girl remarks, and laughs like a child; but the young foreigner does not know what to answer now; he looks away.