Opening the front door, I bolted to the bed room of the obviously rich Christian home. The family was out for the day, probably buying food or new clothing. How I longed for food. When the Jackboots first appeared, they seemed harmless. Slightly intimidating perhaps, but harmless. Then, it happened. Not suddenly of course, but the Jackboots grew more and more violent. Eventually, they began to beat and kill us. Us, the Jews.
When I turned ten my mother promised me that my life was finally maturing. She promised me that there would be more responsibility and even if that responsibility became too heavy, she’d always be there to help… that was before the invasion. My mother was beaten to death in a sewer of Warsaw, Poland. She didn’t have a proper funeral, she wasn’t buried. She was left in the streets to rot.
I awoke from my day dream to the sound of the front door opening. The yelling of German stunned my ears and I ran to the window frantically. The only words that I could comprehend were “dirty, Jewish, and pig.”
Leaping for the window I glanced over my shoulder to see one Nazi, his pistol aimed at me, ready to fire. I slid open the window and climbed out, avoiding the bullets that whizzed past my head. Stumbling out of the window and hitting the ground hard, I grimaced at the pain that had rushed into my knees like water. The red coated man shouted more as he leaned out of the window began to shoot again…