Author's Note:

I am writing a new Band of Brother's story that is a tad bit different from how I usually write, since it involves the topic of Prisoners of War and the Concentration Camps that happened during World War Two.

I will first like to say that if I offend anyone, at any time, I am truthfully and wholeheartedly sorry if I made someone reading this angry about the topic. I don't wish to offend or to anger anyone at all, it's not my intention. IF you are offended or if you want to correct me on some facts, please PRIVATELY message me, don't tell me on the reviews! I am going to remind you all that my story and my Original character is FICTION and how I wrote this is FICTION! POW's and the camps were real and they were serious, and still are serious of course, so please don't be negative with me!

Thank you and enjoy!

March 13th, 1945

Landsburg, Germany

"Okay, are you comfortable?" I was asked as I was now sitting in front of a couple of American officers and they are watching me with careful eyes, almost like they were afraid to make me mad or furious. But I was not going to move, not for them and because I was too weak to move at that point. I only stared ahead at the major, a redheaded major with a pen in his hand and a notepad there to write down everything that was about to be said with me.

"Before we proceed with our questions for you that we have prepared, we want to make sure that you know what you say here is protected and will not be used against you in any way, shape or form. Do you understand this?" He asked me, his voice sounding so kind like the warmth of the sun on my skin that I haven't felt in days on end.

"I do, sir." I replied back to him, my voice sounding raw for some reason, having me look at the mirror behind him on the wall and see my own reflection, making me want to cry from it.

"And it is placed on the record that you are recognized at a P.O.W." He also explained to me, having me blink once and look back at him with wide eyes, like I was slapped across the face.

"Prisoner of War," I said out loud like it was some kind of joke to say. I never associated myself with that term, not for some time and how I survived what I have been through. It was surreal enough to think that I would make it outside the fences, out into the open where there was no gun pointed to my head and no real threat to look at in worry.

"First, what is your name?" he asked me, having me suddenly look like I was about to be shot in front of him. Two tears fell from my face now as I was hurting me to think about my own Goddamn name and how much it was affecting me to the point of crying in front of strangers who only wanted to help me.

"I haven't…haven't used my name in months," I confessed to him now, seeing how he was looking at me with a hint of concern laced there on his face and it made me really hate myself then. I took a shaky breath, trying to refocus myself and where I was in the room. There was no officer there to kill me, there was no officer there to throw himself on me, I was safe. I was safe.

I didn't feel safe.

"My name is Georgiana," I replied back to him calmly now, wiping the tears with my jacket that they gave me, someone gave me that I didn't see who it was when they ushered me away from that place. From my death.

"Last name?" He asked me as he was writing this all down on the notepad.

"Kozloff." I replied to him, seeing him look up from the notepad and then eye me because of how I said my last name.

"Are you of Russian descent?" He asked me in curiosity.

"Both Russian and Jewish. My mother's family is from Poland and my father's family is from Moscow." I explained to him thoroughly, already thinking of my parents and the last time I saw them, which seemed like it was so far long ago and in some far off dream. I could hardly their faces in my head, they seemed so far away from me that made me want to cry again.

"Do you speak more than one language?" He asked me.

"German from my mother," I answered, watching him write it in his notepad and then I was seeing him then motion to one of the officers behind him without taking his eyes off of me.

"When we found you, the only thing you had in your possession was your journal," He explained some more, now another officer placing my journal on the table now and having me look over at the one thing that had been keeping me alive, both within my brain and my own heart. I have written in that journal of things in the past, what was going on from day to night that both scared and me fascinated me, and all of the prayers I tried to bring to God on the night that I thought were the loneliest and the darkest of all. That journal held all that happened to those that were there with me, those who died, those who tried to run and were caught, and even those who made it out alive. Those pieces of papers, those stories and those names of those whom I met, it was those pieces of papers kept me alive and all I could do now was see it there between us now like it was another item in the room.

"I know that this may be hard for you to remember, or even try to think of given the circumstances, but I want to see if…if you can remember how long you have been at Buch—" He explained, almost in a stammer, but it was then that I finally spoke up with boldness there within my tone and a deadpanned look on my face at him now.

"84 days," I said with an instant now, seeing him look at me with nothing else to say as well as the others in the room now. He was shocked on how clear I sounded and how bold it rung in the room now as I found my voice one more time,"I have been in Buchenwald Concentration Camp for 84 days, 14 hours and 22 minutes. I am a member of the Army Nurse Corps since 1943, trained in America and stationed in England until I was taken prisoner by the Germans in December of 1944. What else would you like to know?"

There was nothing else heard in the room as I thought back, back to the moments in the war where I thought I was going to die and not make it back to my own home, back to my old life where I thought I was making the right choice on being a nurse and serving my country. But I never thought it would lead to this, lead to this kind of life and this kind pf pain and nightmare.

"Look, sir, I was given an Ultimatum: Either I mend the German soldiers given to me and live, or refuse to and die. I worked almost every day on wounded German soldiers with a pistol pointed to the back of the head in case I made a false mistake, and they would pull the trigger. I can tell you in full honestly, sir, that there were moments when I prayed to God that He would make the officer pull the trigger for me and end me then and there." Once again, silence from the men in the room now as the major cleared his throat after a moment or two, having me once again look at the journal and rethink of those moments that haunted me.

"Let's start at the beginning and we can go from there, okay?" He asked me now, having me feel a bit bad that I snapped at him and how I said it like it was the proclamation of the world. But it was true for me since no one else has heard my story up to this point and wanted to hear it. What did he want to hear, and what was I willing to tell him and not feel like I was exposing too much, or even not enough.

"Okay."

Aldbourne, England

The Untied States Nurses Training Facility

September 24th, 1944

"Please, for the love of all that is true and good int his world, can these boys know how to act around a lady?" I sighed from my spot folding in the bed that I was working with, seeing my good friend Gloria as she was staring out from our training area with the others nurses. it was another day in England, and we have been there for several weeks now as nurses for the war that we thought was going to be ahead of us. After doing some training in the states, we were called to come over to England to help with the Allies that too were going through the pre-training of war.

I never thought I would be in England, let alone being a 2nd Lieutenant nurse and helping others with their training and the new nurses that were coming in off the boats now and ready for the war ahead. I used to be one of them once, young and willing to move with the notions in order to serve her country. But now I was a seasoned nurse, and a good one since I've been a nurse right out of high school. I lived and breathed this.

"What happened this time?" I asked her in wonder now as she was rubbing the back of her head and her pinned back blond hair was swaying with the cool wind that was coming through the window and giving the hospital ward a breeze.

"One of them tried to feel my up. I think we are having more boys in England than real men," She commented back to me now as she went for another bed and I grinned at her, my bangs were in the wind as well and I was trying to think of a good time to trim it back.

"I don't think any of these men are worth your time and looks, Gloria. Besides, we're nurses, we should be holding something to a higher bar anyhow." I reminded her now as I then looked over at a couple of the newly recruited nurses hat just came in last week and were new to the program.

"Ladies, make sure the other wards are ready for the inspection that will take place tonight," I ordered them.

"Yes, ma'am." They replied, moving out of the room together and Gloria raising her eyebrow at me at how I addressed to them.

"They still think of you as some kind of stickler," She commented back to me now as I rolled my eyes to what she was saying to me now.

"Oh please, I'm not that big of a stickler," I informed her now, "Let me remind you that I am trying to be a good enough nurse.

"Please, you're one of our best ones, not to mention one of our younger ones," she corrected me now as I was moving over to the front of the ward where the double doors where and I sighed from hearing this from her, "You're only 23 years old and as a 2nd Lieutenant with the potential of being promoted to 1st, you should give yourself far more credit."

"I have given myself enough credit that can carry me through this war," I said back to her as I opened the doors over to the hallway now, seeing nurses walking left and right and officers with soldiers there that were already being treated with training injuries.

"I don't think you have," She commented back to me nonchalantly now as I saw a couple of new soldiers that I haven't seen yet at the front desk, talking to the receptionist now and I walked over in a brisk manner now to see who they were talking to.

"All I need is a stitching here on my hand, that's all and I don't think a bunch of freaking paperwork is gonna make it easier for me since I'm almost bleeding out here." The man said to the nurse now, a lanky build of a man who looked agitated standing there. He was cradling his left hand, already stained in crimson now as I approached him. He looked over at me, and it was at that moment I would forever remember those brown eyes and how he stared at me as I addressed the nurse and another soldier there.

"What seems to be the issue here?" I asked, looking at the man now and how he then eyed me up and down.

"I got a cut on my hand from training, ma'am. My Captain of my Company sent me over to have it stitched up," he replied to me, having me hear a roughness to his voice and how he sounded like he had some sort of accent from the States, but I couldn't pinpoint as to where it was from. I just smiled at him and grabbed him by the arm now, the other soldier looking at me now interest.

"Come, I can tend to it in no time, down this way please," I said to him now as he follow me down the same halls.

"I thought you were going to be on break?" Gloria asked me from the desk, almost calling out to me now as I turned my head over my shoulder to look at her.

"No worries, I can work for another minute or two," I said to her as I looked ahead again with the soldier in two with me, giving me a look of skepticism.

"You know, you don't have to help me if you don't want to," He tried to reason with me now as I shook my head.

"I really don't mind," I reassured him, seeing him it'll seem off with me as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Eh, if it was me I would have dumped you to the next nurse and bolted out of here." He mumbled.

"Not a fan of helping others, I take it?" I countered back with him, seeing him eye me fully now with a off look like I called him on his bluff and I just walked along down the hall with him and we ended up back in the ward where I once was with Gloria. I planted him on the bed there gently, seeing him cradle his hand there on the first cot on the left and I walked over to the nightstand where I knew some of the stitching tools were stored for the day. I knew he was watching me, and I for some reason did not mind it since I was used to other soldiers watching me see what tool I was going to pull out next to use on them. Some saw me as an angel, others as a torturer. I didn't know where I was on that line, but I was hoping I was on the good side really.

"So, you're a paratrooper?" I asked him casually, seeing his sigma on the side of his sleeve and he looked too, smirking at me now as I got the tools ready on the stand for him to see.

"Part of one of the best Goddamn companies there is in this Army: Easy Company. Heard of us?" He asked with a hint go pride in his voice as I grinned at him.

"I've heard of your Company once or twice with some of the nurses here: Good strong men who know how to give out good talks to women and try to make them swoon?" I asked him, hearing him chuckle a bit on the couch as I got the thread into the needle. He was watching me do this again, almost like he was in some kind of trance how in the way I was doing this and I didn't want to say anything. For some reason, the way he carried himself and how he was still kind enough to me, it made me not care that he was watching me do this. I had to hand it to him, he had a handsome face.

"Some of us guys don't know how to use their mouths wisely, ma'am." He said in consideration as I passed and eyed him.

"And you do, apparently?" I asked him, seeing him not say anything but give me a warm smile now as I held the needle up for him to see, "You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," He replied back with a smaller but confident tone now as I walked over to him and grab his wounded hand, some of his blood already staining my hand but I smiled at him none the less now as I looked right at him in the eyes. Once again, something about his eyes made me feel like I was a child again, but in a good way now.

"What's your name. soldier?" I asked him out of pure curiosity.

"Joesph Liebgott." He replied back smoothly, having it sound like it was rolling off his tongue with smoothness like coffee in the morning, or rain falling from the sky onto the grass. It sounded natural to me. I knew his last name was German, the first part of his last name made me smile a bit wider since I knew what it meant.

Sweet one.

"What's your name?" he asked me, not carelessly but with curiosity in his voice as I just grinned at him.

"Georgiana."

Buchenwald Concentration Camp

POW Ward

March 2nd, 1945, 2:05 am

I heard his voice in my head, how he was calling my name now as I was looking up through the cracked roof of my hut, seeing the bright full moon int he sky and how through the crack, my skin was tinted blue and it made me feel like I was in the ocean, far away from here and back to where I knew I was safe. My stomach grumble, my skin itched for warmth that I knew would never come. All I could smell was B.O., some blood on the floor and the pines of the forest seeping through and the infamous death of smoke from the night sky. I was so used to this now, and I was thinking again in my cot.

Thinking of him.

"You think too much, junge.(Young one)." I looked over at the bunk next to me, Charles there with a small smile on his face that was looking too much like death for me to handle. I shook my head a him now, seeing him draw what was left of the blankets that we had over his stomach now to keep the cold out as I looked back to the sky now and I was thinking of nothing else really. It was another night, a night closer to my death I thought really since I was once again starving, my own head was swimming with thoughts once again of survival, life, and death.

"Do you think…God sees us?" I asked him out loud since I knew the others in the hut were sleeping and were not even going to be bother waking up to tell us to be quiet.

"I know Der Herr (The Lord) sees us, He sees everything." Charles replied to me, once again looking at me with his elderly eyes and having me sigh in defeat with my own thoughts.

"But if He sees us, does he let us go through this without saving us?" I had to ask, since he himself knew of God and would tell us that God was real enough to protect us.

"If He wanted to save us, then He would have killed us and brought us to heaven," Charlie reminded me, having me look back at him as he looked up to the sky and see the moon himself, "I know you are troubled as to why you are here in this Camp, Junge. I see it on your face and how you look at the men when you mend them."

"I don't know anymore, if they have kept me alive this long then it's only for me to heal their soldiers that are wounded," I confessed to him, "I'm nothing more than a nurse to them, another pair of hands to help them win the war. I feel like a traitor."

"They have made you that way, do not forget that with your heart." Charles urged me now with a hushed but rushed manner as he was giving me a fatherly stare. I grew to know his stares and how they were affecting me, since he was the one who assumed the role as our fatherly figure, the father to all of the P.O.W's that were in that camp.

"You are someone who heals, and we all know that including those officers. God wants you to use that skill, that gift that He gave you, to save those He too loves," Charles said to me in almost another preaching rant. I just sighed and kept my eyes on the moon. I only hoped he was right, I only hoped that God was, in fact, looking after me. There was never a time when I considered God was my ultimate protector, even though I grew up in faith with the old memories of readings from the bible, going to church and the constant reminder that God loves me. I tried to find God in this, and there are times when I did and times when I didn't. I only hoped Charles was right as I was thinking of how much longer I was going to take in this place.

And if I would ever see Joe again, his face in my head as I fell asleep.