“I have been fighting behind the scenes for years with no sense of accomplishment. At this moment, I feel like I have nothing more to lose and it’s an opportunity to attack those who are torturing the innocent souls standing before us.”
“No,” the officer says without hesitation. “We need you, as a nurse to keep as many of our men breathing as you can. We need you alive, Lieutenant.”
Maybe I’ve had enough. I don’t know if Everett is home and safe. I don’t know if he’s alive or dead. My brothers, God only knows where they are, or if they are okay, and I haven’t been able to communicate with Dad in over three months. What if this is my sole purpose right now—the reason I’m on this earth—to free these suffering souls from any more misery?
The hundreds of prisoners continue marching forward in response to the shouts and orders coming from each side of them, and I watch in horror.
Some of those who are marching fall and struggle to stand back up. Others try to help the fallen, taking an immediate beating when caught. And then there are several who are falling behind in the shadows, waiting to take in their last breaths as they gaze up at the sky.
I push my way out of the vehicle past Maggie and the officer. The vehicles in the convoy behind us come to a halt and other troops approach with questions.
“I’m going to help those people over there. They need us,” I cry out.
“At least wait until the rest of us are not in sight, Elizabeth,” Maggie says, grunting with wrath. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her so brazen before now.
“Oh, for God’s sake, let’s just go help,” Beverly says, marching forward.
“If you aren’t coming with me, lend me that weapon,” I tell the officer. In no way should I be speaking in this manner to anyone with a higher rank than me, but I’m at the end of my rope and I will not stand by and watch a scene from a horror movie play out in front of my eyes after devoting everything we have to put a stop to this nightmare.
“Lieutenants, get back into the vehicle at once,” the officer shouts in a demanding voice. His face turns a deep, bitter shade of red, and I know time is of the essence. I spot a weapon in one of the open cubbies within the wagon of the ambulance, and without hesitation, I lunge for the rifle and move past the others who are pleading with me to stop.
“Elizabeth,” Maggie shouts. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Or she can retaliate and avenge the deaths of her people,” Beverly shouts. “And maybe save some lives in the process.”
I can’t believe the words spilling from Beverly’s mouth. It’s numbing to listen to, but I have to focus on the situation at hand.
My pulse is thrashing in my ears, my lungs feel as though I can’t take in enough air, but I am stronger than I have ever been before. Years of living in fear of being a Jewish woman will not stop me from saving as many of these people who have dropped to their knees in the cold, ready to die, or pleading for mercy, as I can.
I figured someone would have pulled us away from the direction we are approaching, but instead, I find our troops behind us, following closely. I stop at the first fallen body, checking for a pulse, but there isn’t one.
The anger within me comes to a head. To imagine how long this woman has survived only to die alone in the woods—is inconceivable. I move forward to the next person lying on the frozen earth. Her eyes are open, her skin is gray, and her bones look as though they are caving into the barren cavity of her body. Her chest struggles to rise, then collapses as if gravity doesn’t exist. This woman looks like the world is about to fall on top of her, but they have pushed her beyond fear, and she appears to be waiting for the end to spare her more agony. Tears and holes cover her clothes that barely conceal her skeletal form, and I couldn’t guess at her age. She has young eyes but looks to have lived beyond a lifetime in Hell. “I’m going to help you,” I tell her.
“Gather up the fallen,” one of our soldiers gives orders. I’m grateful they decided to help and that I’m not alone in believing these tattered lives deserve a chance to survive. I stop at the first body I come across and carefully lift the woman into my arms, realizing she must not weigh more than sixty pounds. I feel as though I might break her in half if I move the wrong way.
“Thank you,” she whimpers.
While following the path out of the woods and back toward the vehicles, the sound of crunching leaves against ice and snow pulls my attention from a direction behind me. I’m careful to lower the woman down against a large rock, then turn on my heels, finding a guard walking toward our direction.
“Halt!” he commands. “Verlasse sie.”
From the corner of my eye, I spot Beverly to my right, near a cluster of trees. I hadn’t seen her a moment earlier, but she’s helping another fallen prisoner.I’m surprised to see her trying to save someone wearing a yellow star sewn to her sleeve, but at the moment, my biggest fear iswhat she might do with a weapon in her hand.
Beverly stands and holds her hands up to the guard, one hand gripping a pistol she’s aiming at the sky. “Don’t you have enough prisoners? You must have a heart somewhere deep inside of you. Let us help them,” she calls out to the Nazi.
I want to tell her to shut her mouth because it wouldn’t take much for this brainwashed guard to respond to her words with gunfire. Beverly must feel a false sense of security as she momentarily takes her eyes off the guard. She leans down toward the fallen prisoner just as the Nazi lifts his pistol, screaming, “Heil Hitler!” at the top of his lungs. The seconds play out as if in slow moving seconds, and I’m frozen while watching Beverly shudder. Her eyes go wide with terror, and I’m not sure where to keep my focus, but she cries out for help, pleading for her life. They are words I never expected to hear from her.
He’s going to kill her if I don’t do something.
A flashing memory races through my mind from when Dad took me to the shooting range as a young girl. I didn’t understand the need for weapons, or why someone would have to kill another to save their life, or someone else’s. “I hope you will never need to use a weapon of any kind, but in case you do, I want you to know how to hit your target,” he said. I listened to his every word, followed the precise directions, and pulled the trigger. I hit my targets, almost without effort. “I’m impressed by your skills, kiddo. You must take after your old man.”
At this moment, I can only pray I wasn’t experiencing beginners’ luck, and that I do take after Dad.
The guard fires his weapon—the blast echoes between the trees, piercing my ears like knives driving into my head. The sound of a cry howls through the air.
The Nazi engaged first. He had a choice. He made the wrong one.
I release the safety on the pistol in my hand, close my right eye, aim, and pull the trigger. It was Beverly’s life or his. The blow knocks me back a foot, but I regain my balance, ready to shoot again if necessary.I hear the thud before I see the damage, finding the Nazi down on his back, clutching his chest.
