Wolfe was just what the fuhrer wanted. He was the very model of perfection. He was strong for his age, athletic, had short blond hair and blue eyes, and was at the top of his class. The rain on this dreary morning began to pick up strength. The others around him began to shiver and cringe in the cold, but Wolfe stayed still with his eyes forward and his back straight.
The officer that ran Wolfe's division finally exited his tent for morning roll call. His long leather trench coat gleamed in the rain and sun. The visor of his hat shined in the light. He kept special care as he walked over the muddy ground to not spill the steaming cup of coffee he held in a gloved hand. He stopped short of six feet away from the crowd of young Germans and cast an observing eye upon the lot of them. Wolfe was standing at attention along with all of his friends. A smile graced the officer's bony, embittered face as Wolfe and the officer made eye contact. He was the only one the head officer smiled at. Wolfe grinned in return.
The officer handed off the coffee to his assistant beside him and raised his hand tothe crowd. The boys raised their hands in return and they chanted their speech of support to the fatherland as the red flag of victory waved during the bleak European morning.