Rachel Bulgrin

I sat up and looked around: Today was September 3, I939, and I had spent most of fast night in my basement. The Nazis had invaded my homeland. As I sat up, I heard the unthinkable. The people shouted in the streets, Heil Hitler, Heil Hitler." The Germans had won. They had defeated our soldiers in my homeland, Bielitz. My world shattered: Hitler had come to my homeland:

I opened my blinds and peered out into the streets. The scene that greeted me was almost too much for me to endure. The streets were ruined. Windows had been shattered, and dead men were scattered in the streets. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Maybe when I opened my eyes everything would be back to normal. I slowly opened my eyes and realized that no wishing could ever undo this terrible disaster.

Nearly a year has past since that awful day when Hitler's Nazis took over our town. Now the Jews are not allowed to own cars and other expensive things. They even made us turn in our fountain pens. I now have to attend a special school for Jews and am not allowed to go to many public places.

As I sit at our kitchen table imagining that I am fixing myself something to eat other than bread, I can not help but be filled with despair. The Germans took all of our food and we have almost nothing. When my mother enters the room, I quickly drop the bread I am holding. I do not want her to scold me, and tell me yet again that if I eat too much, we will have nothing. But instead of yelling, she quickly and awkwardly walks across the room and hugs me tightly. This seems odd to me now because my mother has not hugged me since the war started. Although I want to ask her what is wrong, I just stand there enjoying the moment of affection. She wipes a tear from her eye and stares blankly at me. After a long moment, she begins to explain that she has received word that the family will be relocated to a concentration camp within the week. From everything that we have heard, we know that this is the place where Jews are sent to die.

Next, she gives me a look that leads me to believe that there may still be reason to hope. She whispers, "We must go into hiding. There is a nice family that can take one person. '" Only one. Eva do you understand what I am saying?"

I cover my ears. I understand perfectly that I have to go while they stay here and let the Nazis take them away. They are sacrificing their lives for me. I begin to cry, "Mama, I do not want to leave you! I want to stay with you and Papa!"

"Of course you do, sweetie," Mama replies, "but they will take us away, and if they find

you, I fear they will kill you. Will you please be strong for your papa and me?"

I stare at the ground wishing I could throw myself down and scream and cry, like when I was little. However, looking up into my mothers face I know I must be strong. If I cry it will kill her. I must be strong. I force myself to smile weakly and hug her silently.

My mother reaches up to her neck and takes off her golden locket. It is the one possession of value that has not been stolen or sold for food. She places it in my hand and says, "Eva, I want you to take this. When you wear it, no matter where you are, I want you to remember that your father and I will always love you."

I have admired my mother's beautiful locket with her initials carved on the back since I

was a little girl. As tears form in my eyes, I cannot believe that Mama is giving it to me. I look up at her and smile as tears fall down my cheeks. "I thought you said it would be my wedding present. "

She gives me a weak smile. "I know, honey. But after the war, you may already be married. "

I know that she and Papa will not fight when the Nazis come. I am certain that we will not see each other again in this life. I love Mama and Papa so much. How will I bear all of this? I hug Mama in silence, and we stand together in the kitchen for a long time.

That night I look around my room to decide what to bring with me into hiding. I do not have much left anyway. Would it be just me, or would others in hiding with me? Where was I going? These were all questions I want to ask my mother or my father, but I know that if I speak, I will only be hurting them more. As I climb into my bed and smooth out my pillow, I pray a silent prayer to God that he will spare my parents and that I will be with them again after the war. I hold the locket in my hands and try to think of the good times my family has had together.

However, no matter how hard I try to remember the good times, I can only think about the fact that I may never see my parents again.

As I sleep I dream that my parents and I are walking along a beach together having a wonderful time. However, my dreams are interrupted by a loud sharp knock at the door. I sit straight up in my bed, terrified. Who would be coming to call at this hour? I hear a man talking fast in German. My mother is crying, and my father is yelling. Then I realize that the stories are true; soldiers do come at night and take people away. Had not Mama said they were coming in a week?

I run out of my room in a panic and see the German soldiers destroying our home as they look for valuables. One of the soldiers barks at me that I have five minutes to gather my things. Mama hands me a bag and whispers for me to take warm clothes because it is cold tonight. I run into my room not knowing what to take. This should not be happening. I am supposed to go into hiding. I am supposed to live. My parents made plans for me! As I begin to pack clothes, I run my fingers across Mama's locket. I tell myself that I will wear it until I die.

I walk out of my room, wishing I could cry, but I don't want to let the SS soldiers see me

cry. When I enter the living room, Mama hands me my big winter coat and wraps her arms around me. We are led outside to where a large truck was waiting for us. As we climb into the back of the truck, I hear a woman crying and a man trying to comfort her. I want to ask her if she has had a daughter taken away too. I sit down and begin to cry silently to myself. As tears stream down my cheek, I wonder if maybe I am lucky to at least be with my parents. However, I know that I am young and weak. I will be of no use to the German's at their work camp.

When we arrive at the camp, I notice that there is something written above the door. Work brings freedom! I step out onto the platform, and the soldiers begin to roughly divide us into two lines. Papa grabs my hand and holds on as tight as he can. When a soldier approaches us, Mama and Papa are placed in one line, and I am pushed into the other. I stand tall and refuse to let Mama see me cry. Mama begins to scream. Papa yells that I will be fine, but his eyes tell me differently. We walk over to long brick buildings that are labeled "Showers." The soldiers tell us to take off our clothes and empty our belongings into a box. A mean looking woman with an emotionless face and cold eyes reaches forward and yanks the locket off my neck. I begin to sob, but no one heard my cry!

"I remember the singing…Happy birthday dear Ivana, Happy birthday to you."

"Blowout your candles, honey, and make a wish."

As I closed my eyes I thought of the wish that had been lingering in my heart for as long as I could remember. I hoped I would be safe this year and that the Serbians would stop killing the Albanians that live in Serbia. There had been rumors circulating that men like my Papa were being killed and women and children being hurt. As I opened my eyes and blew out the candles, my fears were relieved for the moment. There were my mother and father looking at me with love and compassion in their eyes.

"Open your gift, honey," my father said.

He handed me a neatly wrapped gift with a large blue bow. As I unwrapped it, I could not guess what it was. I knew it could not be anything too expensive. My father's business had been suffering lately. Although my parents never liked to talk about it, I knew things had been bad, and I knew it was because we were Albanians.

"Oh Papa," I exclaimed as I looked at the beautiful gold locket. It was beautiful. I knew it must have cost more than we could afford.

"Sorry that it doesn't have your initials in it. I found it in a flea market," Papa explained.

"Oh, I love it," I exclaimed. I turned it over to study the back. The initials were hard to make out. "I think it says I.A.B," I said. As I throw my arms around my father’s neck, I felt the happiest I had felt in weeks.

"Do you like it?" my mother asked.

"Oh yes, I love it," I said happily.

"Well then, shall we cut the cake?" my father asked.

As he got up to get a knife from the kitchen cupboard, a knock sounded at the door. It was an angry sounding knock, not like the greeting of a neighbor or a friend.

"I will be right back," Papa said quickly. I looked at my mother in fear and I noticed that she was also afraid. Within seconds of opening the door, two armed men burst in and grabbed my father. "Come with us," they said, "Or we will kill your wife and child."

My mother began to cry. I wanted to yell and scream at these terrible men, but my father gave me a reassuring nod, which seemed to say, "Be still."

My father let out a sigh and said, "Very well, may I get my coat? It is cold."

"You won't need it," they said in rough tones as they led my father away. I began to cry.

Why was this happening? What had my father done?

As I heard cries and yelling coming from the other homes on our block, my mother whispered, "Ivana, we must leave."

"Why?" I said. "What about father?"

"He will not be coming back," she choked out through tear filled eyes.

Suddenly, I understood, the rumors had been true. People were actually killing people for just being different. Because we were different and did not believe what they did, we must die.

"You must pack your things quickly," Mama barked.

"What should I bring?"

"Warm clothing. Pack only what you can carry, and hurry. Go as fast as you can. Those men may come back looking for us after they.... they..."

I knew what she could not say. As I ran upstairs to my room, I remembered all of the hushed conversations I heard from my mother and father's room while I was in bed. But something had told me that they never believed it could really happen to us. As I gathered all of my winter clothing, I felt for the locket. It was still in my hands, and I put it around my neck. I could not help but wonder if the previous owner of this locket had ever been as frightened as I was that night.

"Please help me," I prayed silently.

"Ivana, we must go now."

"I am coming, Mama," I said.

As we put on our winter coats I asked her where we were going.

"We are going west, out of Serbia. I hear talk of camps in Montenegro where we will be safe."

"Mama, I heard from Anna that they would not let us cross the border."

"We have no other choice. If we stay here we will die...or worse. ." Mama's voice trailed off and I knew exactly what she meant.

"We are walking all the way from Prizen to Montenegro?" I asked.

"Yes, Ivana, now we must hurry. They will be back for us."

As we walked out the door, I could not help but notice that she did not lock up the house I knew that the men would be back to steal what little valuables we had left. As we walked, I heard gunshots and knew my father's fate. Once again, I reached for the locket and wondered who its previous owner had been. Did she know the pain of knowing that someone she loved was gone and she would never see him again? Somehow, holding onto that locket gave me hope.

I do not remember much of the walk, except that we were always cold and hungry. But the locket gave me hope. It seemed that no matter how cold or hungry I was, the locket gave me strength. When I touched the locket, it seemed as though an invisible person was urging me on, telling me to fight for my life.

When we finally reached the boarder, our group had to bribe the boarder patrol to let us through. Everyone handed over anything that was of any value. When I began to take off my locket, the patrolman told me not to bother with that old thing. He did not realize the gift he gave me that night.

Once we arrived at the camps, we were given food and new clothes. I still remember the way I felt when I told mother about the locket as we settled in. She said the strength came from Papa. I, however, felt that it had come from somewhere else. Maybe there had once been another girl…