Germany, 1939. Paul and his fellow pupils are in his mother’s schoolroom, where she teaches a curriculum dictated by the Nazi regime. According to the lesson, the arithmetic required to care for an infirm or otherwise disabled person is clearly out of balance with the welfare of the German people. One child questions that assertion. “But if it costs so much to take care of these people, what do we do?” Another one answers coldly. “Kill them.” And Paul? He can only cast a troubled glance at his amputated right limb. Paul is perfectly capable, of course. But he’s afraid. At bedtime prayers, he asks his mother if we really should forgive those who trespass against us. “Even the Nazis?” It’s a fine question, but one with a difficult answer, and a raft of unequal moral implications. And the very next day, as if on cue, jackbooted Wehrmacht troops arrive at their doorstep. Hitler has decreed the roundup of those deemed unfit. They’ve prepared for this terrible likelihood. Paul’s mother sends him running for a nearby barn, where a prosthetic device and other supplies have been secreted. But it’s also a hiding place for other persecuted parties, one well known to the army. In a split second, Paul makes the brave decision to participate in the resistance, as both an unfairly targeted individual and a person bearing witness to blanket persecution.