Posting more: (Kind of long) (2420 hits)
Category: GeneralRating: 1.5 on 6 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Tom (View user info) at 2003-10-01 13:32:30 EDT
I am just going to post more for everyone while I am thinking about it. Lets take it from the top.
September 1st, 1939
This is my first journal entry. I guess it would be prudent to state a small preface for myself in the years that I read what I write. I am Tom. I am 17 years old today. In 1933, Adolf Hitler came into power. In 1933, Adolf Hitler withdrew from the League of Nations and stated his intentions on re-arming the country of Germany. 3 years later, troops from Germany marched into Rhineland. This violated the Treaty of Versailles. Mussolini and Hitler also formed a military alliance calling it the "Rome-Berlin Axis" and shortly after began referring to themselves as "The Axis Powers". It wasn't long afterward that Japan pledged to help Germany fight the spread of Russian communism. What was done, essentially, was the covering up aggressions that would lead toward WWII by resisting communism. Hitler, with this three-country alliance, felt like he was able to rule all and do what he wanted at exactly the time he wanted. A Nazi party was formed in the late 20s. By the 1930s, the Austrian government, as conservative as it was, did little to deflect Nazi inroads. Threats from Hitler and Mussolini forced Austria to include Nazi members in the cabinet. The chancellor tried to get the Austrian people to permit, through vote, an Anschluss with Germany. Hitler wouldn't permit it. The chancellor resigned from his seat and the German army invaded. With this, Hitler had more influence on Europe. With the taking of Austria, there was also a border with Italy, the ally to Germany. With this, Czechoslovakia was also in danger. Hitler claimed it was "A dagger pointed at the heart of Germany."
The Sudetenland population consisted mostly of Germans. 3 million Germans. They demanded that Sudetenland be its own country and Hitler backed this. Hitler ranted hard about it. Hitler invaded Sudetenland to "Protect its German Brothers". Oh, and Germany annexed them too. It was a disaster to the Czechs. Hitler ended up taking Czechoslovakia. He didn't stop there. Next he went for Lithuania. Lithuania allowed the former East Prussian city of Memel to be annexed. After all this, France and Britain couldn't look dreamily at the idea that these two Fascist countries sought peace. They readied for war. They made a promise to my country, Poland, that it would protect us if Germany tried to invade us. The western nations excluded the Soviet Union because of its threat of spreading communism. France and Britain suggested to the Soviets that there be an alliance against the Germans. Chamberlain rushed an armament and draft. The Soviets agreed only if all of the Baltic area was secure too. There were arguments because it stated that any kind of attack would mean that the Soviets could move into the western countries. The Soviets made a treaty with the Germans. Nobody expected it to be a long lasting one. Germany and Russia would never attack each other.
The crisis of World War Two touched off today. My 17th birthday. Can you imagine? What kind of a birthday present is this? The Germans launched a Blitzkrieg against Poland today. It is probably still going on as we speak. This is going to be a long, angry war.
September 2nd, 1939
The news of the war was the talk of the schools. I was directed to go to the school for 8 through 14 year olds. The masses were frightened and they needed an extra hand in keeping everything as calm as it could be. My mother drove me. She had been up all night. She was worried and crying. My father was killed long ago. He made a political stand against the Nazis and was assassinated. I walked slowly to the building that schooled the more juvenile kids. I walked down the hallway corridors to office. They directed me to room 34A. I don't imagine I am missing anything at my school. As I walked down the hall, there was a younger boy running. He tripped and hit the ground fairly hard. I jogged to where he was and helped him out. He looked sad and scared. I asked him what room he was heading to. 34A was his response. We both went there together. It was a few minutes of walking. He was very quiet the entire time. I asked him his name. In a shaky voice he replied, Ben. I introduced myself. He doesn't show any sign of listening. We get to the room. To my surprise the room is just full of kids. Kids and adults alike, come to think of it. There was a radio blaring in the room and everyone was just huddled in an eerie silence. Ben and I took a seat next to one another on the floor. The person speaking over the radio announced that Germany's attacks left several cities very wounded. The man listed off the names of the cities. The boy's eyes began to water and tears fell from his cheeks. I looked over and asked him what was wrong. His parents had gone into one of the cities earlier on the first. They didn't return home that night like they had promised, but he went to school anyway.
I slowly stood up and walked to one of the older individuals 'guarding' the kids. I told him there was a slight emergency. He was going to object but then noticed Ben's crying and merely nodded his head. I stated my plight to the office of the school. They searched records but couldn't find anyone to take Ben until confirmations of his parents' lives were made. I volunteered to take him in for that while. My mother wouldn't mind at all given the circumstances. His home was a short walk away. We walked there. He didn't really say all that much. Only looked ahead. We walked into his home. He got a sack and put some clothing into it. We made the somewhat longer walk back to my home. I carried him some of the way. Ben was fairly small for his age. I would guess at under 5 feet tall. Probably about 4'7". He was small and thin. Not to mention very much more pale than the other 8 year olds.
We reached my house after about 45 minutes of walking. I told my mother, who again had been crying, what the problem was. She immediately turned into the busy-body mom she always does when we have temporary company. She made him an elaborate bed on the floor in my room. She also made a 'special dinner for special company' as she called it. I love my mother, but sometimes she is just a little over-the-top. Looking out my window, I can see the stars. I have a feeling it is only a matter of time before the stars a blotted out by the flashes of war.
September 3rd, 1939
Schools are out of session. I figured that would happen. France and Britain declared war today. I don't know what they are going to do, but as promised, they are making an effort to protect the Poles. We decided to attend our local Temple today. As it turned out, Ben was also Jewish. This is a predominantly Christian area. There will probably be little resistance in this town if the Germans get this far. They will probably get this far. The Temple was boring. Ben slept and I dozed in and out. My mom would have scolded me for sleeping in the Temple, but she dozed herself. I guess it was a trip to feel safe among other people. I should probably sleep. Then again, how can I? No sleep for the weary.
September 4th 1939
Isn't it funny how power leads to insanity? Hitler thinks he is God of all that he can see. He has ruined people's lives for his own gain. Ben is still sleeping. It's going on 10 o'clock in the morning. I think that the people here are trying to get a militia together. How are they going to manage fighting the Germans? They are powerful in West Europe today.
As the day progressed, we got a letter in the mail. Ben's parents had been labeled "Missing in War", as opposed to "Dead". Is there a real difference? I suppose there is. His parents are dead. We all know it. He isn't looking any happier. I hope as time goes on, he will be a little bit happier. He still doesn't say much. He's a polite kid. Maybe I'll take him to my friend's house tomorrow. He told me he never had any friends before. I feel even worse for him.
September 5th, 1939
I visited my father's grave today. I wanted to go alone, but mother insisted that I take the kid with me. So we walked over to the graveyard. I searched the rows. Nobody had visited the graves in a few days. Roses were fading and dying. Nobody was there today. I walked over to my father's grave. I had a rose in my hand. The boy followed behind me. I got up to about three feet from the headstone. He stood right next to me. I knelt down and dropped the wilted rose upon his grave. I stood back up. I cursed the Nazis under my breath. I felt something touch my hand. I looked down. Ben had taken my hand in his. A weak smile covered his sad domineer. A tear fell down his cheek. It began to drizzle.
It started pouring harder. The rain fell in sheets. Each drop was like a bullet. It was a 10 minute walk to my friend's house. We ran. The boy was giggling uncontrollably. I guess this reminded him of something. Something fun. We got to Bishop's house in about 6 minutes. His real name was Phillis, but his last was Bishop. Bishop, we all thought, was more interesting. We knocked on his door. His mom answered. "Hello Mrs. Bishop. You're looking good today." I said cheerily.
"Oh dearies!" She said in her most happy voice. "Why don't you come in?"
"Thanks, Miss Bishop." Piped up Ben.
"Who is your darling little friend, Tom?" She asked with that same loving smile she always has.
"Oh, this is Ben. He is staying with us until word of his parents come through. They were in one of the cities bombed during the air raids." I could hint sadness in the boy's blue eyes.
"Oh dear me. Come in come in. Take of your shoes and stay a while. Let me get you kids some towels. Bishop, honey, you have some visitors at the door." She's a good lady. She is slightly rounded, but has that beaming smile about her. Bishop came down the stairs. He was always happy about things. Just things in general. He had the attention span of a turtle, yet we all loved him just the same. He is 16. Just turned 16, as a matter of fact. Today he wasn't happy. The Nazis had pushed over the border and were heading in. There wasn't a powerful enough resistance yet to stop them.
"It isn't lookin' good." He says to us in that stupid, yet blissful tone. We sat around and talked for hours. Ben was tired. He hadn't gotten much sleep any of these four nights. I often hear him awake; stirring and weeping from time to time. Bishop treated the boy well. Acted like he'd been a friend with him for their entire lives. He even let the boy play with some of his car models. While they sat on the floor playing, I went back downstairs and talked to Mrs. Bishop about what was going on.
"What is the plan in the case that there is some kind of ground raid? Do you have any idea what the locals are planning?" I asked.
"No, Tom, I honestly don't. The Germans are powerful and things are probably going to be heating up here in the next few weeks. Today is the first day since the war began that we weren't at church. I think it is good though that they let the kids out of school." She continued making lunch. Sandwiches. She even used fresh tuna fish. They were great. My own mother could take a lesson from her. I hope she doesn't read this.
Right now, Ben is playing behind me with a model car that Bishop let him have. It is an old Model-T. The kid loves it. I'm glad. He seems happier.
September 6th, 1939
We got an urgent telegraph in the mail today. Ben's parents were both dead. Their bodies were recovered from the hotel they were staying in. I was the one who broke the news to him. He deflated. He sprawled back on my bed. I sat on the edge. I grabbed his hand and gave him my most sympathetic look. He laid there, an expressionless look on his face. I know how he feels, to an extent.
September 8th, 1939
Ben stepped on the model car today. He didn't need any more let downs. He's had a hard enough week. I looked at him and told him I could fix it. One of the windshield posts had snapped. "Can you fix it?" He asked me, a small hint of hope in his voice.
"I think I can...." A small smirk on my face. "Would you hand me that glue?" He does as I asked. I placed the two parts together and dabbed some glue on it. Rubber cement, to be exact. Some leftover things I had in my desk drawer. I told him to wait for 30 minutes for it to dry. He sat in my desk chair the entire time staring at it. Once in a while he'd ask if it was ready yet. Each time, he was repulsed. He started to doze off. I let him. When he woke, it was dried. I was downstairs. He came and got me and had me look at it.
"It looks like it was never broken!" He exclaimed. The grin faded from his face. He looked down at the ground. I touched my hand to his chin and lifted his head up far enough that he faced me.
"Chin up, kid. Things can only get better from here." I told him. Things couldn't get better. Visa versa, things will get worse.
September 12th, 1939
Things didn't at all get better. The Nazis made it to my town. It wasn't more than a 20-minute gun battle to win over the town. The militia proved to be useless. All that participated were killed. The Nazis put a curfew. No one was to be out of his or her homes after dark. The Bishops came over and stayed with us. They brought some fresh baked things. We have a fairly large house, and mom overstocked with food and drinks the day the first raids began. "Well, we figured it would be best if families bunked together through war." Said Mr. Bishop. We all agreed.
Ben is completely recovered from his parents' deaths. I am surprised. He wasn't too fond of them, he told me. They beat him. This explains the huge bruise on his leg when we first brought him in, nearly two weeks before. I looked out the window down at the road. Ben stood by my side. Two German soldiers walked down the street on patrols. "Was werden wir mit diesen schmutzigen Stangen machen? Machen Sie sie Stange-Tanz, vielleicht?" One of them said. They both laughed hysterically.
"What did they just say?" Asked Ben.
"Nothing.....nothing." I replied. They had said: "What are we going to do with these dirty Poles? Make them pole-dance, perhaps?"
September 15th, 1939
The radios are off the air. Germans are broadcasting pro-Nazi propaganda now. I don't know what they are planning, but you hear a lot of Anti-Jew talk. "Die Juden sind das Werkzeug des Teufels. Wenn Sie mit den Juden gefangen sind, werden Sie mich, getötet wird, der." I had to sigh. I repeated aloud to the rest of my family and the Bishop's. "The Jews are the tool of the Devil. If you are caught with the Jews, you will me killed." We were all horrified. It's going to be a long weekend.
Rumor is spreading that the Nazis were setting up death-camps for non-Christians. Mostly Jewish people.
September 18th, 1939
There was a knock at the door today. "Öffnen! Jetzt öffnen!"
"Open the door." I ordered my mother. It was the Germans. I wasn't quite sure what was going to happen next. She opened the door and in came two young adults, maybe 17 or 18. They were around my age. Hitler trained them from younger kids in his 'Young Hitler' clubs.
"Who here is Jew?" The first one stated in a shaky English translation from German. My mother, myself, and Ben all raised our hands.
"Good!" The other one said. "Sew these patches on jackets." He states broadly but still in poor English. "If they not when we get back later you killed." He grins and walks out with his companion. I overheard them say something next.
"Wann können wir diese Leute nehmen und können verlassen?" The first one says to the next. "When can we take these people and leave?"
"Ich weiß nicht. Seien Sie geduldig." "I don't know. Be patient." The other one returns.
"Ich will von dieser dummen Stadt aussteigen. Es bohrt." He says, calling the town boring.
"Nur. ..be Patient. Es wird über bald sein und wir können diese dummen schmutzigen Juden zu den Vernichtungslagern erhalten." He said "Just...be patient. It shall be over soon and we can get these stupid dirty Jews to the death camps." I was scared. Scared to death. Glad that the others didn't speak and understand fluent German. I didn't want them to hear that they said to each other. I am really scared. I do not know what they will have us doing tomorrow, the day after, and even the day after that. I see the frightened glints in the Bishops' eyes. Smiles faded. They don't want to leave and they don't want to be killed. I am going to send them on their way later tonight. I don't want us dirty Jews to be inflicting any damage upon our friends.
September 21st, 1939
My worst fears were confirmed. Early in the morning, they came for us. They kicked down the door. We could hear massive amounts of gun-fire and see the flashes followed by booms. There was a pocket of Allied resistance fighting right on top of us.
"Are you Christian?" He points to the Bishops.
"Y-y-y-yes we are." Says Mr. Bishop.
"You were warned not be with Jew. You pay the price." Three shots rang through the house. I will never forget the final expressions on those three faces before they hit the ground.
"What are you doing?" screamed my mother at him. A fourth shot rang out. My already jaded soul was no more jaded than it was.
"You two. Come with me." He orders. We follow. Ben is crying lightly. I nudge him with my arm in the ribs. He quiets himself.
"Sind wir erlaubt, einen possesions zu erhalten?" I asked.
"You have two minutes to gather no more than six items. Hurry it up." He says. I grab this journal and a pair of clothes for Ben and myself. I don't know how much he will grow, so I am going to keep something bigger for him. He got his model car that Bishop gave to him.
"How old you kids?" He asks.
"I am 17 and Ben, my friend, is 8." I am frightened. Ben was crying again. The man looks me in the eyes and said, "Yes. This terrible. Was forced to work Nazi. I don't discriminate. But, bad things happen over next years, this be true. You didn't hear it from me. Now move!" He jabs the gun in our backs as several Nazis run by yelling incoherent things.
I find it funny that people will ruin their other lives for power? We were taken to a train station. Most of the cars were pretty full, but we were placed in the last one, which was fairly empty. Maybe 12 or 13 other people spread out. I would think that the capacity would be 150. Ben and I chose to sit in a corner away from everyone else. "What's going to happen, Tom?" he asked.
"I do not know for sure, kid." I said. I did though. We are going to die. I gave him a sweatshirt to cover himself with so the night's cold wouldn't get to him. He's leaning on me as I write this. I hate it when people lean on me. I guess it doesn't really matter anyway, does it? I need to quit writing and sleep. It's going to be a terrible morning.
-Tom
User Reviews
Submitted by Tom (user info) at 2003-10-01 15:36:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Because they are Polish.
-Tom
Submitted by Random Joe at 2003-10-01 14:51:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Why would German nazis be speaking English to German Jews? Just wondering.
Submitted by Tom (user info) at 2003-10-01 14:35:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Thanks for all the comments and suggestions. I am taking steps to correct some of the things, that I agree with mind you, in the story. A revised version may be posted later.
-Tom
Submitted by Tom (user info) at 2003-10-01 14:11:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Tom and Ben are traditional Jewish names. The internet told me so.
-Tom
Submitted by Phinch (user info) at 2003-10-01 14:08:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I like this, and I want to read more. Here are my views on improvment for the story.
I agree with Spike about the over intellectualism of the piece. Perhaps you can blur some of the details in the begining or cut back and forth between diary mode and narrator mode.
The characters need more realistic names. Ask Yidele for names other than Tom and Ben. I think he's a honest to goodness Jew in Poland. Also you may want to research clothing from the period. I think in the thirtys they would have had jackets and sweaters not sweatshirts, but I could be wrong.
Plus, he loves his mom, and when she's shot, he doesn't say much about it. Imagine some fuckhead shooting your mother. Now write from that perspective. I would start the daily entry with a pissed off perspective, writing from inside the train.
Phinch
Submitted by SpikeGoddess (user info) at 2003-10-01 13:55:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Tom,
Do you personally keep a journal? If so, read over it to see what kind of things you actually write about. If not, check out any of the millions of online journals, or Ann Frank's diary, for that matter. Read things that people wrote on 9/11. They're not going to sound like objective statements of what's happening in the world, but they'll sound like personal reactions to living through the events of the time. I'm willing to bet that you don't detail current events as your character does in the first entry. Giving the historical background in this way doesn't sound authentic, and doesn't sound like a 17 yr old kid's journal.
You write this story as a journal, and yet your style is really more of that of an omnicient narrator. There's a lot of backstory---your father's death, for example, which isn't explored. So we have this emotionally empty experience as readers. If you were really writing about your Dad's death, would you tell it like a fact? If so, that's a character choice, and I don't feel that it was a character choice in this case. The style of writing should reflect your character's inner life, as these are HIS words, as well as yours.
I don't feel any connection to your characters, and I don't really feel any empathy for them. It's a very intellectual story. Visceral details will help you to evoke more powerful feeling from your readers. You don't have to move so fast. Get inside of the situations, and write them as if you lived them. That's why you chose journal-style. Because it's personal. So be personal. Be subjective.
This has sounded negative, but I don't mean it to come off that way. I want to support you in your writing, but my way of doing that is to give you critism that I hope you'll find constructive. I really want to see this story take off and be as good as I know it can be.
Rock on,
SpikeGoddess