Running from the NAZI
Johan Black :a survivor
This is a journal that was recently found in Germany. On the front cover had the words Running from the Nazi in sloppy, rushed hand writing and below that it had Johan Black: a survivor.
I was still 13 years old at that time when gun shots came ramming against my door. I had an appalling feeling about this. I quickly hid under my bed. My door flew open. I felt the strong breeze and in came black suited people, in tall shiny boots, people holding weapons. Something was about to change my world I thought. Then, I saw my parents getting taken away. I saw them crying. And all I could do was watch them disappear in a flash. I couldn’t help them. There was nothing I could do. Why couldn’t I? But I knew this was going to happen one day and I knew that it was Hitler’s plan. My parents have prepared me about this and said to me, “We will be taken away someday when they come.”
My parents were right. Now the house is lonely and empty. That day, all I did was sit and hope for them to come back. My neighbors were taken. The house’s windows were black. Am I the only one left in this town? I had to stay in the dark room and think of what to do to survive. I soon fell asleep that night.
The next morning when I woke up, it was so strange to wake up and find nobody at my house. I didn’t hear the usual the sound that the neighbors make anymore. I knew I had to be quiet, in case the NAZI’s come back.
I tip-toed to the kitchen to grab something to eat. Then I heard the NAZI jeep outside. I had to think quickly. There is a small door in the kitchen that leads to the basement. I quickly, but silently went in and hid.
You wouldn’t believe this, but this was the place I spent my next three months hiding from the NAZI’s. In the corner of the basement there was a little cupboard just big enough for me. There was a small toilet in the basement also. I realized this place was a good hiding place for me. Of course at this time I had no idea how long I had to stay all by myself without making any noise. Do I have enough food? How do I flush the toilet? Would this war ever end?
After I made sure the NAZI jeeps were gone, I went up to the kitchen and looked in the pan try. I found lots of canned food, crackers and cookies. I grabbed them all and took it down to my hide out. Shoot I forgot my can opener I thought with alarm. I quickly ran up and brought it down. I ate a can of tuna that day, which was such a sad meal. My mom would always make me warm meals. I am worried about them. Are they safe? Will I get to see them again?
I wanted to use the toilet, but of course I couldn’t make the flushing sound. This was the toughest thing to put up with. But I had no choice. As the night approached it got really cold. There was no heater in the basement so I bundled myself up with my dusty clothes and some blankets. This was my second night alone.
A few days past, I was doing alright. But when a few weeks passed, food was running out. Once in a while I hear the NAZI jeeps prowling past with people shouting out of it. I had to be extra careful whenever they passed. One month past, I was so sick of my uncomfortable life in the basement alone, but I had to face it. I missed my parents, I’m extremely scared, I’m going crazy, and I have no idea when this will end.
I woke up one day because I heard the NAZI jeep stop in front of my house. I heard the footsteps. They came into my house. They entered from the door and went to the kitchen. I can hear them talking right above my head. I held my breath. My heart began to pound strongly. They came into the basement and looked around, but I was in the cupboard that time. I heard one solider say, “Clear!” and they left. I was so relieved.
About over two months have passed. I didn’t remember anything. I was going nuts. I didn’t have anything to eat; I stunk so badly because I haven’t taken a bath for such a long time. I was at the peak of my patience and wondered if I should be dead by now instead of living like this, with no hope. I couldn’t take any of this anymore. I got way too depressed that I fainted.
I woke up. There were lots of noises. I was afraid the war started right here. But I was going to feel death the long way so I thought I needed to go out there. I trembled over the cupboard, and crawled over to the ladder that lead up to the kitchen. I desperately grabbed the ladder. I use all my strength left to pull myself up the ladder. I fell, slipped my foot off and I fell down the ladder, but I kept trying. Soon I was at the top of the ladder. I got up out of the basement and rolled to the front door. I crawled out the house and I saw two Russian soldiers pointing their gun at me and shouting, “Freeze!”
I thought, “I am ready to die now.”
Right then my parents came running from far hollering at the soldiers, “No! That’s our son. Don’t kill him. He is on our side! DON’T!” The soldiers picked me up by my arms and took me towards the health truck. The next thing I remember was that I was in the hospital bed and my parents were crying. When I got up they screamed, “Johan! You’re back, son!” and hugged me tightly. Before I left, I was so embarrassed by their hugs and infections, but now I want them to hug me tight.