I cracked open as much a smile as I was willing to spare for a Naziess! “Well, what now, Nazi woman? You gonna cooperate or are you gonna keep trying to kill?! I’m on a very important mission, and I could do without getting killed before I get to murder Hitler.”
Her big or wide eyes became three to four times bigger or wider. “You’re going to murder the Fuhrer!?” She exclaimed. “Aye carumba! You truly are a brave American! And a handsome man as well.” I caught her eyes going up and down me like a kid who’s eaten too much sugar on a trampoline. “...It’s a shame,” she said, shaking her blonde head, “You would make a fine Nazi.” I wished just then she would have said, ‘cut a fine Nazi’ the way sometimes people say ‘cut’ to mean ‘make’ or ‘do’ as in, ‘cut a rug,’ cause I would have make a good joke, but she didn’t, so I had nothing to say in response, so instead she kept talking. “Why don’t you join our side, huh? The Fuhrer could use brave, pretty, strong men like you.”
“No!” I screamed jumping up and down and overturning some European furniture. “Nazis are wrong! I will never join you and your crummy Fuhrer!” I broke a chair over my knee and then calmed down a little bit. “Why don’t you join us? Uncle Sam has a mighty big family. And he’s accepting of all people and creeds; even ex-Nazis! But not current Nazis. Maybe it’s not too late for you.” I put my hand on my chin then, striking a contemplative sort of pose. There was an idea in my brain, I just knew it. “Tell me honest, this is important – have you murdered any Jewish people or other people yet?”
Just then I saw two big ole tears plop out of her beautiful, green eyes, green like edamame. She was crying. “No! Okay, no! I’m a terrible Nazi!”
“That’s great news!” I exclaimed, jamming the brakes on signing that big check that read, ‘Don’t feel love feelings for this woman.’ “If you have yet to take the blood of a Jew or other types, then you’re not a real Nazi at all are you, not really?” I was, at the time, still unsure of the intricacies of Nazi membership, but she tried to set me straight.
“I’m afraid there is more to being a Nazi than simply killing, you poor, sweet, brave, handsome, man. Nazi-ing is a belief system. It is rotten to the core. Therefore, I am also rotten to the core.” Her saying the word ‘rotten’ had reminded me how bad these Nazis really could be. My emotion gas tank became topped off with high-octane hate. I suddenly thought about how maybe it was my duty as an American Made GI Army Man to forcibly eject this Nazi dame from the big party of life! But then I felt a different feeling, and my emotion gas was back to running on just fumes of hate. Coach said my orders were to kill Hitler, but this was just some poor, mixed up, beautiful woman with a knife for a tongue. She wasn’t at fault any more than a knife that isn’t a tongue is at fault for stabbing. But knives don’t have to only stab. Cannot knives also make valuable art out of wood or be used to make life-saving surgeries happen? If I succeeded in my mission, maybe she would transform back to normal and we could date and everything would go back to being regular Europe.
“Senorita,” I finally managed, “I wanted to kill you for being a Nazi just then, but I have a job to do, and I have used my heart to see that you might not be as rotten as you claim. You might be good after all. Good. Muy bueno,” I said in her native tongue. “I am going to leave you here to live your life, and I am going to go kill a man you Nazis call Hitler.”
To my surprise, she stopped me. “No,” she said. “Let me come with you. Your words just now have moved me. If you can still see the bueno in me, then maybe I am still bueno, and maybe people are still bueno, and maybe it’s this Hitler that’s got it all wrong. Maybe he has been driven nuts by hate, and what the world needs now more than anything is.” She turned her eyes bashfully away for a moment and said, “...love.”