European Resistance Archive/European Resistance Archive (ERA)
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In front of my house there was a space we called the “palace”,
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where we used to put tables and chairs in the summer.
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As I got there, a German unit with a machine gun told me to stop.
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I replied: “It’s my house!”
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The soldier just told me: “Halt, raus!”.
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I didn’t understand any German, but “raus” meant go away, leave.
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I told him: “That’s my house; I have to fix dinner for my brothers”.
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Again, he replied: “Raus, schnell, schnell!” and pointed the gun at me.
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I quietly went back with my bicycle and met Maria, who had the same thing happening to her.
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It’s not the fear of the gun,
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it’s realizing that you’re absolutely nothing to them.
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These men in uniform, who looked like cockroaches,
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who spoke a language you didn’t know because they weren’t even from your own country,
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not only could keep you from going inside your home, but also had the power to kill you.
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You were nothing to them; you were less than a bug.
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It’s shocking.
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Maybe we weren’t prepared for this,
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but it was the reaction of a young girl who by then had already suffered from bombings,
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from seeing soldiers being captured.
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The older men, who had fought in the First World War, were talking about concentration camps.
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