Stay Strong

By Sillybobailey!

The second that I opened the door I felt my heart stop. The most astonishing, magnificent, and breathtaking sight I had ever seen was now less than a step away.

I am a WWII soldier. I can't say that I exactly enjoy it, but after today I know that things will change for the better.

But let's go back in time for now, to the day that it all started.

The day it all started was just like any other day in Hagen, Germany. I heard a soft knock on the bedroom door that morning

"Has he said anything yet?" she said.

"No, not today. But last night he ate a little bit of his soup!"

"Well that's good."

Every day, she said she that was fine when I asked, but I could still see the pain she was going through. I thought it would get better as time went on, that HE would get better, but all month father was unable to walk, he could barely talk, and he never ate. Mother and I knew the time we had with him was short. We didn't know what was wrong with him. The only doctor in town was always busy with other patients. So he couldn't come and examine father.

Hagen was a nice town compared to the other towns that the Germans had taken over. Although, on every corner you could see a German Nazi patrolling the sidewalk. I had always tried to avoid them whenever I left the house. They scared me. I'm sure other people did the same. I felt bad for the kids who had to walk by them every day on their way to and from school.

Mother and I were preparing father's bath when I heard a hard knock on the front door downstairs. I walked down and opened the door to find no one there. I did, however, see a pink sheet of paper nailed to our wooden door. When I read the piece of paper, my heart skipped a beat. The next thing that I knew, I couldn't hear anything, my sight had gone blurry, and I felt a warm tear slide down my face. I fell to my knees. I had never thought that I would have to leave so soon; not while father was like this, I thought. I sat there, with my head in my hands, for who knows how long, when suddenly I was startled by a cold hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see my mother staring at me with watery eyes. She had already read the small paper. I grabbed her by the knees and started sobbing. I couldn't stop myself. She must have been all sore by the time I let go, but she didn't complain.

She had always been stronger than me, ever since I was little. I would come home from school all beat up, and she wouldn't say a word. She would just take me inside and wash my wounds. I was never good at fighting. The kids at my school would pick on me for being too "small," and I let them. For me and my parents, my childhood was rough.

I don't have the problem of being too small now, for I am much larger than the average man. I don't work out often, but for some reason I am naturally strong. I do enjoy working out though, and whenever possible, I would go for a run.

The next thing that I remembered was waking up in my bed. I looked in the mirror and saw that I still had a red face and swollen eyes. I must have cried longer than I had thought. I looked out the pitch black window and figured that it must have been that same day but later in the night. I walked downstairs to find mother baking bread out of the last bit of flour that we had. It filled the room with a delicious cinnamon aroma. She explained to me what to expect for the rest of the day. She said that I was to talk to father and tell him that I was leaving, and that I was to pack my things and be ready to leave by tomorrow morning. I planned on telling father right then, but once I had gotten upstairs, I couldn't gain enough courage to tell him that he might never see me again, partially because I could barely wrap my head around it myself.