The Promise

Chapter 20

December 30th 1940,
Warsaw Ghetto, Poland

Dear Isabell,
Happy New Year.
I hope the year of 1941,
will bring both of us a better year.
I hope the war ends
and all the prisoners of the war
will be liberated
and we will go back to the way
it used to be,
before the war.
I hope your parents will be found
and reunited with you
at your parents' home
for next Christmas.
I hope we could be possible.
If you feel the same for me,
as I'm feeling for you.
From
Anton.

I put down the pen next to my notebook. I was sitting behind my desk, taking a break from writing down the numbers of orders. I was sitting inside freezing. I blew my warm breath down at my hands. There were no heating inside of my office, because the supplies had broken down weeks earlier and I had no winter coat. I had handed it away to the blond girl, weeks before. But I'd rather be freezing, than living with a bad conscious. It had stopped snowing a few days earlier, but it was still cold and depressing outside. Sitting inside my office was depressing too, but at least I could be alone and freed from witnessing the Ghetto's horror outside. In my office, there was no one else, but me and quiet. I was hiding. Trying to stay away.

The door to my office was opened and Pierre entered through. I had been daydreaming, as usually. Trying to escape. Pierre widened his eyes, when he saw me.
-"Anton! Aren't you dying here, it's freezing cold!" Pierre broke out. His face was pale, from the cold. I shook my head.
-"No, not at all." I lied, though I was dying inside. But I was mostly from the fact that I didn't know how Isabell was.
-"Where's your coat?" Pierre frowned at his nose. He was clearly unpleased and looked oddly at my uniform.
-"It's..." My words dried out. Pierre looked confused at me.
-"It's... I lost it." I lied and tried to smile to make the situation more natural. Pierre shook on his head and crossed his arms.
-"Why am I not surprised? You're such a mess, Anton. Please, pull yourself together." Pierre corrected me, like I was a child. I lifted on my left eyebrow.
-"I am pulling myself together and as far, as I know you wouldn't give a damn about me anyway?" I stood up from my chair and looked Pierre angrily in the eye. I might have been one inch lower than Pierre, but I wasn't scared of him. Pierre was a pussy, when it all came to it all and he had it all in his mouth. Pierre laughed sarcastic.
-"What are you talking about, Anton?" Pierre looked foolish around. I grabbed angry onto Pierre's uniform and pulled him up with all my strength.
-"You know exactly what I mean, Pierre! You've been freezing me out and stabbing me in the back. Wasn't we suppose to be best friends, pal?" I raised my voice. Pierre looked worried at me.
-"Relax Anton, you simply just didn't do as ordered. You minded your own business and didn't think about anyone else, but yourself. It's not like I broke up with you." Pierre tried to defend himself, but it didn't touch me.
-"Bullshit. Maybe you should mind your own business?" I was this close at kicking him in the face.
-"Why have you gotten all this emotional, since we joined the Gestapo? Do you have a pinched nerve, Anton?" Pierre tried to figure me out. F*ck.
-"F*ck off, Pierre." I pushed Pierre away from me. Pierre smirked.
-"So that's it? Was that it? You're not a trader, right, Anton?" Pierre kept smirking at me.
-"No, of course not." I looked away from Pierre.
-"I... I hate those Jews... those bastards..." I fumbled with my words.
-"Sure." Pierre leaned up against the wall. I took my notebook on my desk and the letter to Isabell.
-"I have to go inspect the deliveries." I lied and hurried out of the office without looking back.
-"See you later, Anton!" I heard, before I slammed the door behind me.

F*ck Pierre and all of this bullshit. This Nazi bullshit. I walked down the few steps and turned left. What the hell had I been thinking? Joining this Nazi regime without even knowing what I was fighting for or doing? Establishing Ghettos, where people starved, was robbed from their identity, their things, starved, beaten, rapped... How could I have been this naive? I turned left and up another few steps, heading for the post-office. I believe, some people are just naive, like myself. Perhaps all of Germany's population had been naive, for not seeing the warning signs? All this race-related posters explaining how to see the difference between a Jew and a Arie, how to enclose them from the companies, stores and schools. Was we completely insane? I pulled my hair back nervously. My hands was shaking, when I opened the door to the post-office. Inside there was as usually empty, beside from the two Jewish men sitting behind a desk. They both looked with a nervous face up me.
-"Would you please post this for me?" I handed out the letter to Isabell to one of the men. The man took it and nodded at me.
-"Yes, sir." The man almost whispered.
-"Thank you." I turned around and walked out of the office again.