*Hello guys...I had to watch this movie for a project in Comm Arts, and...wow. I cried at the end, and was pretty much spitting mad. So...what if there was a different ending? If it was up to me, this would have been the way that little family's story had ended...Please R&R!*

"You must stay hidden, Joshua. Promise me."

Guido's words echoed around Joshua's head as he hid in his little metal box. Joshua shifted his legs and giggled silently, liking the sound his shoes made against the metal. It didn't matter that he was cold, that the scary soldiers yelled and shouted....because he, Joshua, was going to win a TANK! He smiled, imagining it now. It would be massive and green, like the pictures he had seen in the flickering films with his father. But first....he peeked out through the small slit in the metal, watching the angry German men run around, their clothes lit up by the licking orange tongues of flame. Joshua flinched a little when a sharp rat-a-tat-tat rang out, making the hunting dogs howl nervously. He curled back into the wall of the box, wishing for his mother and father. I really wish the game was over sooner, he thought miserably, resting his chin on his knees and trying to fall asleep.

Dora huddled in the corner of the shower house, her fist stuffed into her mouth to muffle her whimpers. She could hear kapos, the German guards, running and shouting loudly, and the guard dogs barking hysterically, obviously lusting for bloodshed of the frightened prisoners. The cold tile pressed into her back, making her shudder, but she cozied up into the tile embrace, grateful for its solidness. Dora was slightly sickened by her choice of hiding place- little kids, Joshua's age or younger, had died here!- but she had been running out of time and options. As rumbles shook the foundation of the building, Dora curled into a tight ball and thought of her family.

Guido stumbled behind the soldier, his heart beating like a drum. "I have to get back to Joshua," he thought frantically. "I must-" the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against Guido's sweaty neck. Guido shut his eyes tightly and slowly sank to his knees. The soldier barked something harsh in German, and seeing no comprehension on Guido's face, switched to broken Italian. Guido listened intently for a minute, then a chill ran down his back as he realized the soldier was saying, "I have to kill you…" over and over, like a broken record. The soldier looked very young, maybe only in his twenties. Blond hair stuck out from under his too-big helmet and the large, square hands that clutched the gun skidded along the barrel nervously.

As the soldier shifted back and forth, a worn square of paper fluttered from the inside of his helmet. He didn't notice Guido reach cautiously for it, trying not to move quickly, knowing the guard might shoot at any second. The barrel rose from Guido's neck to his cheek. He froze for a minute but kept reaching for the white square until his fingers closed around the flimsy paper. Looking hesitantly up at the guard, Guido flipped the paper over in his hands. What he saw made his eyes widen.

An adorable little boy beamed up at Guido, curls that must have been the color of his father's golden ones, sticking up all over his head. His eyes twinkled and his little mouth was opened in a permanent, somewhat toothless smile. Guido curled his fingers around the paper, peeking up at the young guard's face. The guard no longer wore a deep scowl but now had a wide, loving smile. His eyes gleamed with joy as he looked at the picture of his young son. Then a cloud passed over his grin. Sighing as he rubbed a huge hand over his face, he bent down and gently plucked the photograph from Guido's curious hands.

The German carefully tucked the picture back into his helmet, and then looked at Guido with conflicted eyes. He was obviously struggling with what to do. Guido grabbed his arm and said in hesitant German, (after all, her knew a few words from the barking of the guards,) "I have....son too. His name is....Giosue."he whispered.

The soldier's face was astonished. He whipped out the picture of the little boy once more and whispered in German, "His name is Joshua. It is the same, is it not?" Guido nodded wordlessly, and understanding passed between them. They were both fathers, just trying to help their sons. The soldier's face was anguished, looking at his gun, then at Guido. Resolve steeled his face, and he breathed quietly, "This is going to hurt."

One father nodded, and closed his eyes, breathing shallowly. The other father raised his gun, aimed, and fired.

Dora stirred, opening her eyes. All was silent. Cautiously, slowly, she opened the door and crept into the fresh air.

Joshua woke up suddenly; his hand slipping against the metal side of his box. He looked outside curiously, hearing no loud bangs or foul smells. There were burnt papers lowing in the breeze, and broken furniture everywhere. Joshua slowly opened his box and walked outside. He looked around, but couldn't see his mom or his dad. He was beginning to worry when he heard a huge rumbling noise, and crunching gravel. Hardly daring to hope, he slowly turned around to see a massive green tank inching toward him.

Joshua threw his hands into the air and took off toward it, shouting excitedly. The tank crawled to a stop mere inches from his tattered shoes and an American jumped out, beginning to speak happily to Joshua. Joshua had no earthly idea what he was saying, so he smiled slightly and looked longingly at the tank. The American realized this, smiling and laughing as he hoisted Joshua into the tank, lending him his helmet. Joshua laughed in excitement, happily munching on the piece of chocolate the American had given him.

The tank rolled out the gate, past limping prisoners shuffling away from the camp as fast as their legs could carry them. Joshua craned his neck, searching for Dora and Guido. He spotted a grimy Dora sitting under a tree, searching the crowds worriedly.

"Mama!" Joshua crowed, stretching his arms in Dora's direction. The American shouted something and the tank stopped, letting the soldier pluck his helmet from Joshua's head and lower the little boy to the ground. Joshua took off through the crowd of emaciated people, throwing himself into Dora's arms. Dora snatched him up, laughing in delight and kissing his cheeks.

"My boy," she whispered, tears tracking down her cheeks through the dirt as she clutched him like a lifeline. "Oh, my boy!"

"We won, Mama!" Joshua shrieked. "Look! There's the tank! Wait till I tell papa!" he said, bouncing up and down excitedly. Five years in a concentration camp hadn't lessened him of his boyish attitude in the least. Dora's smile faded slightly from her tired face and again she searched the crowd, hugging her boy tightly. He cuddled up against Dora, resting his head by her neck, breathing in her familiar smell, content to now lay quiet in her arms.

Dora searched the crowd with eyes that burned from the tears. Then....her face suddenly split into a dazzling smile as she spotted a familiar figure limping through the masses, leaning heavily on a stick. His foot was wrapped in bloody prison garb and his leg was bloodied, but he was alive.

"Guido," she breathed. Then Guido was there, and even though he was in great pain, he was hugging them and wiping away her tears, and they were one small complete trio in the mess and panic on that dusty road, on that hot day.

"Hush, princess." he murmured, a heartwarming smile spreading over his dirty and cut face. "Thank god for guards with soft hearts," Guido muttered as he swept his family into his arms.

One year later……

"Mama!" Joshua cried happily, his eyes sparkling and his face split into a smile. Dora swooped the little boy into a big hug, and then grabbed his hand and together they walked through the warm, sunny park. After a lazy stroll by the lake, they stopped under a massive, ancient tree where Guido sat reading a novel, waiting for his family. His silver cane, which was now necessary since he couldn't walk properly on his right foot since liberation night, lay next to him and glinted prettily in the sunlight.

"Hello, Princess," he said, closing his book and motioning for Dora to guide their eight-year old to the picnic blanket. She did, sitting down next to Guido and putting her head on his shoulder. As Dora watched her husband and son eat and laugh, she thought her heart might burst.

"Happy 8th Birthday, m'boy!" Guido cried, presenting a delighted Joshua with a beautifully decorated chocolate cake. Joshua laughed in delight and blew out all the candles in one breath, his eyes tightly shut as he made a wish.

"Life is Beautiful," Dora thought with a laugh, flinging her head back and enjoying the moment with her family, together once more.