A Single Moment in History

Harriet ducked into her room silently. She crawled through the shadows until she reached her bed. She jumped from her knees and landed on top of it, sending a cloud of dust and dirt into the air. She coughed as the dust entered her lungs. She placed a hand over her mouth in a desperate attempt to silence it. Her breathing settled and she froze, watching and listening for any sign of movement. Was she noticed? Did they know that she was there? She hoped not.

When nobody appeared, she relaxed. She crawled under the dusty bed sheets and tucked herself neatly into the bed. Her mother used to tuck her in every night after her father had read her a story. Of course that was many years ago. She was far too old for that now but that did not mean she didn’t miss the unmistakable connection that she shared with them when they did.

‘Wizards or demi-gods?’ her father would always ask.

‘Wizards’ Harriet would always answer, much to her father’s dismay.

‘Always the wizards.’ Her father’s voice calmed her. It was as relaxing as it was deep. It reverberated around her room and through his chest where she usually lay her head during story time. It was soothing. Steady.

'Always' Harriet had quoted from the book.

‘RUN, HARRIET. RUN!’

The pillow was still soft and Harriet buried her face into it to get into a comfortable position, like a cat nosing and poking at its bed. She closed her eyes and pretended that she had not seen the gaping hole in the side of the wall, nor the bright flame that was just outside. The orange glow provided the smallest bit of light in the second floor room that she was in. The heat from the flames kept the room warm enough to occupy even with a gaping hole in the wall.

They were burning books again.

Harriet shuddered where she lay. All of those books! All of that knowledge, gone, with a single spark and a plume of smoke. The soldiers had their orders. Burn the books. Destroy any and all sources of “undesirable” ideas and “degenerate art”, as set by the Ministry for People’s Enlightenment and Propaganda back in the Fatherland.

'Auf Wiedersehen bücher.'

The Third Reich had blitzed through the eastern coast of the United States of America, just like it had done with what was formally known as Europe over eighty years ago. The Eastern coastal states fell within days and the government fled further inland. Many civilians – Harriet’s family included – tried to follow but the West was fairing just as bad with the invasion of the Imperial Japanese Empire. Not even the Japanese-American Neutrality Pact of December 1941 – signed days after the horrific attack on Pearl Harbor – would stall the Empire’s drive for land and power. People didn’t know which was worse. Fall to the Fatherland or surrender to the Empire.

‘RUN. DON’T LOOK BACK.’

The soldier’s Jack boots thudded heavily on the ground as they marched outside. They paraded around the fire, like a midsummer maypole, celebrating the destruction of Juden culture and traditions. United States of America had been the sole surviving pocket of the Jewish people. As the Third Reich conquered the world, the Nuremburg Laws of Protection of German Blood and German Honour followed. And now, it lay in ruins. The synagogues burned, the shops destroyed and the houses broken.

Harriet buried herself deeper into her sheets seeking warm and comfort from the shiver that had ran down her spine. It was her safety blanket. It made her feel safe. It made her feel as though her world wasn’t crashing down around her. It allowed her rest. It allowed her to dream. She dreamed of a different life. A life that was reality just one year ago.

‘Film night, this weekend?’ Harriet’s best friend, Jules, asked.

‘Sure. A comedy though. I don’t want to watch another war film.’ Harriet replied.

‘Same. Boxview is full of them right now.’

‘Father said that it’s to convince people to support the military. He said that they should. He thinks that we should never downsized it.’

‘But why wouldn’t we downsize? We’re not at war and haven’t been since nineteen-eighteen.’

That at least was true. America had not seen war since 1918 upon the conclusion of The Great War. The war that was supposed to end all wars. America had achieved a peaceful and were unwilling to damage it by entering a second devastating war. At the time it seemed wise. But now they were suffering for it.

‘HARRIET!’

Harriet’s parents had wanted to try their luck with the Japanese. The Fatherland meant eradication for them all. Their family had lost their faith along with Harriet’s Grandmother but it would not save them. If caught, they would join their European ancestors in the room of gas and death.

Unfortunately, they had been running against the tide. Rumors of deadly railroads and death bridges in the pacific turned the balance in the German’s favor for all except the "non-Aryan" people. Harriet’s family were too slow. The fight caught up with them.

‘RUN!’

The tell-tail whistle was their only warning. Seconds. Maybe a minute. To run. To hide. To find shelter. To get away before the world around them turned into fire, dirt and rubble. Harriet’s father had gripped her arm and ran. Not forward like the panicking crowd. Nor backwards like the desperate crowd. But to the side. Into the hills. Into the tree’s that would soon resemble sticks poking from the earth. Her mother was lost to the crowd. She never escaped into the trees with them.

There was a storm drain. Her father pushed her in.

‘GO! I’LL BE RIGHT BEHIND YOU’

He wasn’t.

Harriet had escaped the slaughter but she had escaped alone. The blasts of the artillery and the bombs that followed rang in her ears. The screams of the wounded and silence of the dead echoed in her brain. She would never sleep easy again.

She retreated to the one place that she knew. To the one placed where she felt safe. Her home. But it was no longer her home. The fighting had passed through the area some days ago as the Third Reich's rapid advance reached Indiana. The fighting had devastated the area and her house. Now, the Third Reich Army continued the destruction. The houses were ransacked. Harriet could see where her drawers had been opened and searched. The wardrobe was gone along with the damaged wall but her other belongings were either missing, broken or strewn around the room. Nothing was how she had left it, except for her bed.

It was her one constant. The many nights she had buried herself under her sheets for warmth in the winter. The many nights the sheets had proven too hot and were flung off the bed. The many nights of reading under the sheets with a torch light. The many sleepovers with her friends. Even the days she laid in bed sick were a fond memory now.

‘The Ami’s are ants under the Fuhrers boot.’ One English speaking Third Reich soldier said from the fire below. He spoke loudly but he was not yelling. There was a cheer in his voice. And why wouldn’t there be. American was the last of the free world. If you weren’t part of the Third Reich then you were part of the Empire or the Great Italian Republic. Now, America was falling, just like the other great nations of the past.

Would it become another forgotten nation? Would its strength and independence be swallowed by Nazi propaganda and law? Would it share the same fate as its former oppressor, Great Britain – a country defeated by the Third Reich in 1942 to end the Second World War?

Harriet didn't know the answer and she doubted she ever would, nor whether she actually cared. Her fate was sealed the day she was born. They thought she was born wrong.

Well, if their greed and hatred were the alternative, then she knew that she was born right!