A.N. - I haven't seen the movie in a while, so I'm not too sure what year it took place. Let's just say it took place in 1945, two days before Bergen - Belsen was liberated by the British.
Tears of Innocence
"Maybe they won't hurt us. Maybe they'll make an exception for us," eleven year - old Kurt VonTrapp whispered to his brother. Friedrich, aged fourteen, turned eyes filled with dread at his younger brother.
"No. The Nazis are merciless. They'll kill us like the rest of the Jews," he responded in a dead tone of voice.
"Why? Why us?" Kurt cried out, attracting stares from the rest of the Jews in the contained room. Kurt, embarrassed, sunk onto the floor next to his brother. "How did we get separated from our family? Why would they mistaken us for Jews? How could they mistaken us for Jews? We're not."
"They know we're not Jews. They know who we really are," Friedrich responded. "That'll make the Nazis want to hurt us more."
Kurt trembled at the thought of oncoming death. He turned away from his brother, trying to find someplace else to look. But he couldn't find a happy sight. Everywhere he looked he found only terrible tragedy. Little Jewish girls and boys, thin from being starved, clung to their parents. Those without parents or other family clung to themselves. Adults were in tears, speaking names of loved ones who were gone over and over again. It was all horrible.
Kurt finally found comfort by burying his head into his lap. His thoughts turned back to months, no days, earlier. He was home. He was with his family. Maria was his new mother. They were supposed to go to Switzerland, to get away from all this mess. The trip to Switzerland had been going well until they had stopped in a small town during the night. Someone had broken into the inn that they were staying in. His father had ushered Maria and the girls outside, out the back way to safety. Kurt had been aroused by Friedrich, who had heard noises whilst sleeping...
"Kurt! Kurt! Get up!" a voice whispered in his ears. Kurt lifted his head and opened his eyes into a faintly moonlight room. He could barely make out the figure over someone in front of him.
"Friedrich? What's wrong?" Kurt asked once he recognized his brother.
"They've come," was the reply.
"Who?"
"The Nazis. Be quick. We have no time to waste."
Kurt's blood froze. This was it. They were coming for them. Kurt began to panic slightly, but Friedrich dragged him from his bed and made a feeble attempt at shoving shoes onto his feat.
"Follow me," Friedrich whispered, grabbing his brother's arm and heading off into the darkness.
They couldn't see. It was dark out. The hands that had grabbed the two brothers, the German spoken afterwards - it was a nightmare that Kurt knew he wasn't ever going to forget.
"Kurt?" A voice broke the thoughts swirling in Kurt's mind. He turned his head to look at his brother. "Are you alright?" Friedrich asked. Kurt looked at his brother questioningly before he realized that his cheeks were wet and his breathing was coming out in short pants. He was crying.
Kurt looked up at his brother, and made an attempt to tell him that he was okay. But nothing came out. Instead, Kurt began to sob uncontrollably. Friedrich reached for his younger brother and pulled him into a tight embrace. Kurt was trembling against his brother, and Friedrich clutched him tighter. Friedrich knew exactly what was wrong with Kurt. The threat of death was hanging over all of Bergen - Belsen like a rain cloud. It was unescapable.
"You'll get back alright," Friedrich whispered to Kurt.
Kurt continued to cry.
Kurt woke the next morning on the floor. He sat up. He must have fallen asleep while crying sometime the previous night. The first thing that Kurt noticed that morning was the sudden emptiness of the room. Many of the people that he vaguely remembered from the night before were missing. The second thing he noticed was that Friedrich was missing. Kurt shot up onto his feet and looked around wildly. Friedrich was nowhere to be found. He began to panic when a small voice reached his ears.
"Are you looking for your brother?" the voice, a little girl's, whispered. Kurt turned to see her sitting on the floor. She was young, about six, with blonde hair that hung in a mess around her head and blue eyes that had look of sadness in them.
"Yes," Kurt responded. "Have you seen him?"
"He's with my brother," the girl responded. Kurt looked around the room again. "Out there," she whispered, pointing towards a window.
Kurt, with a undescribable feeling creeping through his veins, walked over towards the window. Braving himself for what he might see, he stood on his toes and peered out the window.
At that moment, a scream of a young boy could be heard around Bergen - Belsen.
A British officer stood around the newly liberated Bergen - Belsen. Jews were everywhere, their mixed reactions engulfing all other emotions. Another officer walked up to the first one, and he held a letter out to them.
"Have you found the VonTrapp boys?" he asked the first officer.
The officer frowned and shook his head. "No," he responded, taking the letter from his fellow officer. He looked at the pictures that had been sent with the letter from Georg and Maria VonTrapp. Each picture was a separate one of the two boys. They both had light colored hair. The younger smiled with a boyish innocence. The older looked more serious and weary of the world.
"Officer! Officer!" A young soldier ran up to the two men. "I've found them! Both boys! This way!" The two officers looked at each other and then ran after the soldier. The soldier led them behind a shed. The two officers stopped in sudden shock.
On the ground was the youngest VonTrapp boy. He looked up at the approaching officers, his blue eyes filled with tears. In his arms lay the older VonTrapp boy, his white garments stained with blood from bullet wounds. The older boy's eyes were open and wide in horror, a lifeless tribute to his untimely death. He, along with other captives, had been taken early in the morning, lined up, and then shot.
The younger boy wailed loudly, crying tears of innocence for the lost soul.
Fin.