Behind Enemy Lines

Eight Entry

September 25, 1943

Dear Nicolai,

I found an old notebook and a pencil hidden underneath my bed. Whoever was here previously must have left it for the next person to use. I find it pointless to write to you since I know this letter will never come to you, but I felt like I had to write something in order to give myself some peace.

It’s been a month since coming to this camp. I fear that Mama and Druka are dead, but I haven’t lost all hope in them. They are strong women.

So far I’ve been working out in the fields with the other teenagers in this camp. The adults work in the factories. There are two large factories, one for men and one for women. I heard the men build weapons for Germans as woman make the clothes for them. I work out in the field, digging away at the rotted soil. There is no meaning for us to dig, but perhaps we're  probably digging our own graves. It’s cold outside when we dig and by the time I come back to my cabin, my hands are numb and bloody.

In my cabin there is another boy, he’s younger than me and I found out he was a mute, or at least that’s what I thought. I tried to talk to the boy but he doesn’t speak. He understands what I’m saying but he refuses to speak. I learned his name is Lukas Derolvi and he has a sister who is my age. Her name is Ivanka. He writes down what he has to say on a paper and hands it to me. He’s the only one who actually talks to me in his way. He doesn’t talk to Papa or the other two men in our cabin.

Papa has been very cold to me ever since he hit me. Yes Nicolai, Papa hasn’t been himself anymore. He’s always mumbling in his sleep and every time I look at him, I see back a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. I fear that Papa will leave me in this hell all alone.

Nicolai, how are you doing? I know this is a silly question since this letter is going nowhere but I feel the need to ask you anyways. I bet by now you are living in a nice apartment and you probably might be married with a child on the way. You may also be a lawyer or a doctor out there. Whatever the case is, I know you’re doing well.

I won’t ask you to come for us anymore because that’s selfish of me. You better off living in America. You better off forgetting about us.

-Your Brother-
Mika

I put down the pencil and closed the notebook. That was the first letter I’ve written in months. I felt somewhat better writing even though these letters were going nowhere. Tomorrow everyone in the camp is having a full body inspection. Apparently I overhead a few German officers say they got a new Medical officer, a young man from a wealthy family of doctors. I also over heard this medical officer wasn’t like most Germans and they he treated Jews with some remorse. If that’s the case, then I would like to meet this medical officer. He may be useful for us in a way.