Whispering.

When I was young, around the turn of the century, my mother would always let me go down to the lake on hot summer days. The lake was where everyone gathered, or mostly everyone from what I can remember. Kids from all over the region would come just to cool off or hang with friends. The older boys and girls would go there to find potential lovers, the younger kids swam and dove naked, and even peed in the lake without a care in the world. I never swam in the lake. Neither did Bill.

Bill Kaulitz, resident outcast of the lake group, had been my best friend. We'd sit in the alcoves near the lake and play games while the others played in the nasty water or made out in the brush. He was only ever himself around me. He was exactly a year younger, same birthday and all. Our eyes were the same, chocolate brown, too.

It wasn't that the other kids didn't like him, it was just that they didn't understand him. He was terribly quiet around those that he didn't know and he had a hard time making friends. But I was young and carefree, so I striked up a conversation with him one day.

From then on, we'd spend nearly all our summers together. The first few summers we'd play childish games and have treasure hunts and try to outsmart the other with mathematics. A few years later, we'd sit with the older boys and they'd teach us about girls and love and everything in between.

The summer when I was ten and he was nine, he started coming to the lake less and less. I'd ask him what was going on and he'd never give me an answer. Finally, the last time he ever came, he told me he was moving to France. He took me aside and told me he had to be honest. His parents didn't approve of the German goverment. Bill told me they thought he'd be sent into the army and that was something they didn't want for him. They wanted for him to go to school.

I was confused, as was he, because we were young and we didn't really understand the complexities of war and being a soldier. A few of the older boys that hung out at the lake talked heavily of being in the army. To me it sounded exciting. But again, I was young and I didn't really understand.

"When are you leaving?" I asked, afraid to lose my best friend.

"Tomorrow. But you can't tell anyone."

I wasn't sure why I had to keep it a secret. I'm not sure Bill knew either. But I promised him I wouldn't tell and I hugged him goodbye.

I stopped going to the lake after that summer. Sure, I had other friends, but none of them were like Bill. No one filled the empty space quite like he did.

And he was all I thought about seven years later when I joined the army. Germany was building the biggest, most powerful army in the world. Europe was on the brink of a war and I was ready for action, adventure, romance. But war is nothing, nothing, like anyone fantisizes about. It's much much more than that.