Chapter Three

Germany, 1940

Hugo Stiglitz had left Eleanore Vogel in 1935, joining the German army and eventually the Gestapo. He left her with promises to come back, which he fulfilled on several occasions. He always greeted her with a shower of kisses and hugs, along with gifts he had gotten for her. He always looked so handsome in his uniform, neatly pressed and tailored to fit his built structure.

In the five years he had served, he became stronger and larger. His face more rugged and slightly scarred, which attracted Eleanore even more to him. She wore the decorated gift he had gotten her for her birthday nearly everyday, allowing Hugo to be closer to her while he was away.

Eleanore's grandmother, the sweet lady that she was, began hiding Jews in the cellar. The cellar door was camouflaged behind a large family portrait. Built in World War One, in case of a bombing, it provided a safe shelter for the refugees. When the Jewish people were stripped of their rights, Eleanore's grandparents tried to help their friends in need. The Gestapo were placed above the law in 1936, allowing them to do whatever they felt was necessary in ridding Germany of disease and evil.

The year before now, in 1939, war in Germany had erupted. Madness created war and with Hitler at the front lines, it was sure to ensue. Eleanore's grandfather had served in World War One, a decorated veteran for Germany but this war, this war was sheer delirium.

It was 1940 and the war was beginning to heat up between neighboring countries but America remained neutral. Eleanore had heard word of concentration camps along with ghettos from the man who had delivered the Vogel's milk on a daily basis from their farm.

Even though Eleanore wasn't Jewish, being from America made her an equal target. She was 20 years old and could easily be called a spy for the Americans. She kept her profile under low wraps but even so, it didn't stop the events that took place in her home on the evening of October 20th.

Eleanore had left to get groceries, buying the cheapest food she could find. They were financially suffering but not as bad as most families. The lights in her home were turned down low, causing Eleanore to question what was happening in the home. She slipped in though the back door, making sure to avoid the creaky floor boards that she knew by heart. She carefully sat the groceries down on the counter, and made her way through the sitting room. As she rounded the corner to go up the stairs, she saw a lifeless arm peeking out from behind a small chair. When she saw the blood, she covered her mouth as she sucked in the stale air around her.

It was her grandfather.

Eleanore's heart dropped in her chest, a cold sweat gripping her body. She quietly moved over next to him and felt his wrist for a pulse. Her hands were shaking as she concentrated on the wrist of her beloved grandfather. Her eyebrows furrowed and she waited. But the vein never jumped. She kissed his bloody forehead and closed his eyes. He was a decorated veteran, not killed for his country, killed for what his county had become.

Eleanore moved up the staircase, avoiding the louder stairs. Once she got around the first landing, she saw a still figure lying at the top of the second set of stairs.

It was her grandmother.

Eleanore quietly snuck up the stairs, her body shaking as she moved. She touched her grandmother's cold cheek once she made it to the top of the flight. Eleanore could feel the hot tears come down her cheeks as she bit down on her bottom lip. Her hands were bloody as she tried to feel for a pulse in her grandmother's neck. She begged for a small sign of life, pressing harder against the neck of her loved one.

Eleanore's grandmother made a small gurgling sound as her eyes flickered open, the life drained from them. She mouthed something silently over and over, as she stared up at Eleanore.

'Run.' She was mouthing, 'run'. Eleanore kissed her cheek as her grandmother's body shook for a final time.

Eleanore ran to her room, grabbing the belongings she needed as she fought back the tears. She grabbed everything she could possibly fit in her bag and reached for the pistol in her wooden bureau. It was there in case of emergencies. Emergencies like this. She checked for ammo. It was full with all six rounds. Eleanore wrapped the gun in the scarf, stuffing it into her bag as she ran for the door.

It was then that she ran into something hard.

It was a young German Gestapo officer, his arms across his chest.

"Going somewhere, my sweet?" He asked through crooked teeth, locking the door behind him. Eleanore immediately recognized the officer.

"Burnard."