German-Jewish

Chapter 8

I am on a ROLL tonight because I don't have to do any exams tomorrow. Woo!

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                I'd fallen in and out of consciousness since Stiles picked me up. At one point, we ended up back in camp, where I was taken to our Field Hospital back in the forest. Our doctor said my injuries weren't too bad, he had the nurses clean my cuts and scrapes and he diagnosed me with some bruising around my ribs.

I should be thankful that I wasn't seriously hurt and didn't spend more than a day or two in bed. It was just hard feeling thankful for anything right then. I got up, sucked it up and pretended not to feel the pain in my muscles every time I breathed. The sooner we got to liberate those camps, the sooner we could find Robert.

That, of course, meant pushing forward. That also meant I had a lot of time to reflect on my own thoughts. Everyone I cared about always ended up getting hurt. Maybe it'd be better for Robert if I'm not there when we find him.

I learn time and time again that you never truly know your appreciation for someone until they're gone indefinitely. My family, the girls, and now Robert were examples. Maybe I should just run away and find a Jewish family here that would take me in as one of their own.

Of course, that meant deserting the Army. I could lose everything: my citizenship, my rights as a human in that country.

I'm not a person who ever really prayed outside of when my family expected me too, but I prayed that Robert would come out of this war soon and alive, and even without me. It would be better for him.

The way we pushed ended up us going through my home town. We settled down there for a little bit. Pierson said it would either be a few nights or a few weeks.

I recognized the city. We pushed through neighborhood by neighborhood of it and I eventually found mine.

"Hey," Stiles jogged up to me. I was standing in front of a house. "You okay? You seem... distant."

"This was my house," I said quietly. Everything was stacking up one thing on another. "I have to go in," I continued and went to the door. Every window seemed to be smashed and it was clear it had been set on fire.

It used to be so beautiful. A light blue covering the outside of the two stories was now charred and ashy. The beautiful, simple windows that my mother always kept clean were smashed to pieces. The simplistic, paneled roof had caved in, likely due to the fire.

"I'll go with you," he solemnly replied.

"Thank you."

I slowly walked up to and opened the door. The door had a good lock on it, but it was clearly broken and the door wouldn't shut all the way. I sighed and pushed it open, ready for the worst.

"Oh, God," I sighed when I looked in. The living room was almost unrecognizable. Furniture, at best, was ripped and laying on its sides. At worst, it was just the bare skeleton and it had been burned in the fire that was started. The fireplace built into the wall was still intact.

Stiles looked around on the other side of the room. "You guys have a lot of money? Some of this looks pretty expensive."

I shook my head and touched one of the broken picture frames sitting on the mantle. "They inherited it from my mother's parents. My Oma and Opa. It was so beautiful. A little outdated, but beautiful."

"Definitely."

I took my backpack off of my shoulders and put all the pictures and picture frames inside. I lingered at the mantle, running my fingers along my mother's maiden name that was engraved. "I wish I could take this with me."

"Hang on," He said and fished around in his bag for something. "Back up."

He took a picture and gave it to me. "At least you'll still be able to look at it," he shrugged kindly.

"Thank you," I smiled.

"Do you mind if I take pictures? People need to see that this happened to a lot of people."

I nodded and kept looking around. Going into the bedroom on the first floor, I found my parents' bed still made, but everything else was scattered everywhere. Clothes, beauty products, anything. "I want to take it all."

"Here," he handed me his backpack. "Fit whatever you can in here."

I looked up at him then hugged him tightly for a moment. Stiles was truly one of the best friends I could ever have.

I didn't take anything from my parents room yet because I wanted to see what was left in my siblings' rooms. The kitchen and pantry smelled awful and almost made me gag. Food was clearly either burnt or rotten. The dining room is where I salvaged all of the silver- and dining- ware I could. I knew it would all break as I got into battle, but I couldn't leave it. Upstairs I found the three bedrooms. I started with my sisters' and my old room. I shared a room with two of my three sisters; the other lived in a different room with her husband and child.

Old beginning-school paintings hung on the wall. Our clothes were spread messily everywhere like in my parents room. I did gather things of importance to me that must have been missed when the house was basically destroyed. I found things to do with our Bat Mitzvahs and other religious events of importance. They must have been hidden once my parents knew we were in danger.

I did the same things in the other rooms, my brothers' rooms and my sister's room.

"Hey, you should come see this," Stiles called. The way he sounded did not imply that there was something good waiting for me.

I ran downstairs and found him standing outside of the downstairs bathroom. There was blood along the walls, so clearly someone had been hiding in here and been shot. When I looked downwards, into the bath, I was disgusted.

"Take a picture."

"Stiles! Fertig!" I heard someone call outside of the house. It sounded like Pierson. "Where the hell are you?"

"In here, sir!" Stiles responded and opened the front door for him.

I was sat in front of a bookcase, reading some of the books that hadn't been taken. Some the Nazis didn't care about, some had gotten trapped when they flung all the bookcases on their sides.

"God damn, this smells bad," he muttered as the climbed the front steps. "We've been setting up, have you guys been here the whole time?"

"Yes, sir. This is Fertig's old house and she wanted to see if there was anything left. I didn't want her to look through it alone."

"Yeah, well nostalgia is over. Get the hell out here."

"Yes, sir," Stiles said quietly as I put the books into my bag.

Pierson watched me. "Those better not weigh you down," he warned and walked out.

I wiped my eyes and let Stiles wrap an arm around my sympathetically.

Once outside, I took one last look at the ruined building, knowing it will never be repaired and that my family's history will be erased if I don't keep telling people about it.

With a sigh, I took a step backwards. Goodbye is always the hardest part.