A rusted, barbed-wire fence stretched for miles between a bare country field and a sprawling forest. And on the field side of this fence were two figures; the tall one standing, the small one on the ground.
The rain wouldn’t stop and the biting wind wouldn’t cease. You could almost feel the gloom sitting on your shoulders like a wool coat. The tall figure paced and paced and paced, his heart throbbing and his tears freezing on his cheeks.
She had been taken away two days ago. She had been crying, terror written on every feature. She’d looked at him, her eyes pleading for mercy. He’d stood motionless.
And now, two days later, his heart was breaking. But now here was a chance to do something for her. He had just come upon her little brother: black hair, dark eyes, a picture of his sister. Little Joseph had seen him and asked for help. But seeing the hesitation on his face, the little boy had flung himself down and buried his face in his arms. Now he was crying quietly, huddled in a heap by the rusted barbed wire. He must have come over the open field. But how had he not been noticed up till this point?
Emmerich’s head throbbed. He was glad that he was the only one patrolling this portion of wire. Duty clearly pointed to the course of action necessary and any other officer would have immediately followed code. But her memory constrained him. He’d betrayed her trust. He’d taken away from her all chance of any life worth living. And now her brother’s life was in his hands. Just beyond the clutter of wire was freedom. It would be so easy to let the little one through the wire and in a few moments he would be among the trees, away from searching eyes.
But, Emmerich told himself, was he not serving his people, making the Führer proud? At the very least he was doing his duty by Germany. He’d always dreamed of standing up for his shamed homeland in some magnificent way. Did his service include turning a small child over? If he took that step, he knew that nothing good would come of it. Mercy had never been an option, especially not with Jews.
And then he heard a small voice through the wind. Joseph was crying for Abigail. He was crying for his sister.
Emmerich came near to the little boy when he saw, coming towards him, another man in uniform. He was still a fair distance away. Without another moments hesitation Emmerich took the wire cutters from his belt, knelt down, and hurriedly cleared a hole in the wire near the ground. He turned to the boy, his tears gone and a firm resolve sharpening every feature.
“Joseph, go,” he whispered, laying his hand on the boy’s arm.
Little Joseph stared at him for a split second and then began crawling through the hole, trembling with exhaustion and fear. His ragged coat caught on a barb and he stopped to free it. But his cold hands wouldn’t cooperate.
Emmerich reached through the hole, tore the coat away from the grasping wire fence, and gave the boy a push toward the trees.
“Go!”
“Halt!” cried a voice, cold and piercing. The officer had spotted them and was quickly diminishing the remaining distance between them. Emmerich sprang up and turned to face the officer.
Joseph sprinted for the trees. The rain began to fall harder. In a few seconds he was among the trunks of the oaks. And then he heard the report of a rifle. He looked over his shoulder. Emmerich dropped to the ground in front of the hole. And then Joseph ran, blinded by his tears and the rain.
Love,
Hannah Jo <3
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