Like Brothers:

Shmuel layed on his back in his bunk. He was at the top, in the back corner. Shmuel didn't like his bunk, at all. There were no bars on the sides and Shmuel had fallen out too many times to count. The other men and boys who had come later than him and were stuck on the floor seemed to getting aggravated with him. Shmuel wasn't that pleased to fall on them every other night.

His sheets smelled musty, and the first several days he had been at Out-With, Shmuel had refused to sleep under them. He had started to do so, though, as other people had tried to steal his blankets in the middle of the night.

By now, Shmuel could no longer even smell the scent. He could no longer bring himself to cringe at the scent of two or three dozen sweaty men and boys in a small space.

Shmuel could now drift off to his own world. He wasn't distracted by the sounds of snoring and sobbing, and he never heard the coughing of the sick when he didn't want to.

Shmuel had formed his own world. Bruno was the only one who was a part of that world besides himself. Bruno was his only friend. They had met oddly, and they had gone through a rough patch or two, but Bruno was the best friend he had ever had.

Bruno was on the other side of the fence that had held Shmuel and all of the other people in one place. He didn't understand why they needed it. None of the people would be stupid enough to rebel against the soldiers.

Or were they? Some men here seemed more than a little insane, rambling on about people who weren't there. One man in Shmuel's cabin claimed his daughter was always on his bunk, but Shmuel had seen the girl described on a truck with a few others that was leading out of the camp. She had been a cold, bluish-gray corpse.

Bruno's father was one of the men that ordered Shmuel and the others around. Shmuel never mentioned this in front of his friend, because he didn't want to lose him.

Shmuel knew Bruno's father wasn't the worst, though he wore the crisp uniform with the most decorations of anyone in the camp. There were worse men, those who would shoot harmless people for their own enjoyment. Shmuel would shudder and step over the bodies, the cruel, bellowing laughs of the soldiers following him for hours afterwards.

Bruno had no idea about the cruelty of Out-With. Shmuel wished he was like Bruno. He knew that this was a place for the Nazi Germans to hurt the Jews because they didn't like them. He knew nothing more, really, but Bruno seemed unaware that this was anything but a place with a large, barb-wire fence dividing two sides.

Shmuel ran his fingers over the odd design on his arm band. Papa had told him that it was called a 'Star of David.' Shmuel sighed slightly. Bruno had asked him what it meant, and Shmuel had shrugged and said he didn't know. He guessed it was something to tell the Jews from the Soldiers.

Shmuel knew Bruno was a German, but Bruno wasn't like the soldiers. He talked to Shmuel like he was worth something, he brought food. Bruno was someone Shmuel could trust. He wondered if his friend felt the same.

Shmuel decided to try to be an even better friend than before; during the five months he had known Bruno. He knew it wasn't needed, since he and Bruno had something, but he wanted to be sure.

The next day, Shmuel was serious when he asked, "Bruno, what are we like? Friends? Comrades?"

Bruno's answer was just as serious, and Shmuel found himself smiling all day at what it was. The soldiers had scowled when they saw his joy, but they hadn't asked him what it was. They probably guessed it was something too immature for them to need to care. Shmuel was a little boy. He must have been thought to enjoy little boy things, whatever those happened to be. Shmuel had already forgotten.

He didn't care, still smiling as he fell asleep. The last thing he heard before he faded into the abyss of sleep was Bruno's words echoing for him to hear, 'We're like brother, Shmuel. Like brothers.'

I watched this movie today, after I finally finished the book. I couldn't resist writing something for it. And since there was nothing in Shmuel's POV, I though 'Why not?'

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