The Story Of My Great-Grandfather Fleeing The Nazi Regime!) It all started, Winter. WW2. He and his family reading the newspaper, he was in his late teens, at the time, drinking tea, while his little sister paced the rug with a cloth doll. There was a knock at their door, summoning his father. His father had walked leisurely to the door, answering)(A soldier, his boots dull, his vest cantined with badges, he was highly ranked) "Vas Ist Das?" (What is this?) The father said) (the Soldier answered with a deep tone, his voice stern and clear) "Your Son. He is Fit To Become One Of The Army. For Your Country, He Will Be Drafted By Morning.", Although his answer was not open for discussion, the family nodded to each other, the teen and them lifting the floorboards, the nails rusted and mangy, as they sacrificed their hands for their lives))"Danke-", (Thank You) said their mother, preparing tea, as the dawn broke, the coverup, it had to be simple. But elaborate all at once, as their father took out the newspaper, burning the children's toys, with no evidence of them) (Their Grandfather helped them under the floorboards, a boat had been readied for all escapees of the regiment, but waiting was all they could do, the cost of copper red war, it stained countries, no matter how pure) Suddenly, the sky was dyed red, the neighborhood was marched upon, knocking and the resilient clink of boots, almost an echo against the wind, a reminder of the N-A-Z-I control)) (There was a knock at the door yet again, answered by the mother))
The soldier Stormed in, the heel of his boot angrily smashing into the 4x5 planks that lined the floor, the mother stepped to the side, "Would you Like tea?", She said kindly, his hand raised and he impatiently barked, "Wo soll das Kind zeichnen??" (Where is the child set to draft?) , He asked , throwing the teacup) " Ich habe keine Zeit !" (We don't have the time!", He then said, trotting down the hall) (the children underneath the floor silently crying) After the soldier found their was no kid, he grabbed his father's shoulder) " Gut, dann wirst du eingezogen.."( fine, you will be drafted) , he said, forcefully pulling his father out of the house, and leaving, the door slamming behind him. Leaving only the silence, which was replaced by gunshots, and the teakettle, which had just gone off) (the family suddenly rushed to action, the mother painfully prying the wood, and the children busting the floors, they knew what was going to happen, the neighborhood before them had been bombed as well, their escape was highly necessary) (The teen took his sister in his arms, drying his tears, as he took a hatchet, his father was a writer, and he would become one too, he would carry his legacy, and continue his family) (His grandfather and mother would slow the two down, the goodbye was as sweet as a drop of water in a blazing drought, the chaos outside not stopping him, his legs hurt, but he ran. Run. Run. There's nothing else for you more to do than run, he told himself)) The sound of yelling and screaming came from his neighborhood, soldiers throwing people down, several trucks driving off, the air was thick and heavy, as his tears blurred his vision, the snow cold and violent against his face, , his worn boots moving and moving, he sung a familiar tune in his head. He did know where to go though, the river bank not far) // Tommy looked at the boat, the mast bobbing above the view of him, he bordered the dock, running, running, a smile crossing his face, through the tears, his sister had fallen asleep, the sun rising, and the captain of the small boat sitting them down, he paid the captain with the remainder of his money, and they were stowed below deck, looking happily at the other people, some smiling, but they were all praying. He took out his notebook, holding his sister and a inking pen))
