Inside the Camps | A World War Two Story

Inside the Camps - Part 10

// Omgomgomgomgomg, okay it's the last part. I'm super excited to finish it!

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We ran for miles, not caring that our legs would soon give out. Our breath hitched every time our feet hit the ground. After about 10 miles, and a few breaks along the way, we finally stopped. Joan was crying and Cade seemed utterly shocked. I sat on the ground, dropping the bags. There were loud, heavy footsteps after about a minute of laying still. Gravel crunched under boots as I sat up. We hadn't noticed the people that were standing along the side of the road, about five hundred feet down. My vision was blurry as I squinted, trying to figure out who they were. They soon came into view and we were slightly taken back. They wore uniforms, but not German uniforms. They were American. I stood up, obviously still trying to catch my breath, but I was around the same height as them. I placed a hand on my head, speaking in between heavy breaths. "Who.. Are you?" They held a musket in their hands, but soon let it rest on the ground, seeing as we were no threat. "US Army, sir." They loosened their grip on the gun. "We're looking for concentration camps. The war has ended and we had received the right to arrest those still holding people hostage." The shorter man spoke sternly, before looking past me. "I suppose you two are in some trouble?" I nodded at his question, before sitting back on the gravel. "I'm from Germany and she is from Poland. We wish to go to America, but were arrested for being in Berlin." I spoke softly before looking back at Joan, and continuing. "The little girl's family was killed so we took her with us." They nodded after I finished, turning on their heel. "Come on, we will keep you safe."

Over the next few weeks, we were fed hot food and slept in warm beds at night. Nothing had changed, but we knew our new destination was America. I was nineteen years of age, and had decided I would take care of Joan. Cade was later informed her mother and father had been killed in a work camp. The news hit her hard, but she forced a smile on her face every day to not upset Joan. As for me, my father moved away from Berlin. Not that it mattered, however. I wouldn't be returning there. I knew that our lives would be better in America. The war was finally over.