My Deception

The Second World War was a mess for the whole world, but the role I played in it was particularly deceptive. I was born and raised in Germany and lived there for about fourteen years of my life. Once I understood more about the world around me, a fascist leader was coming into power, and I was manipulated to change my entire life. My accent had to change, my clothing, my family, and my friends all had to change. The men who made me do all this had me believe it would all be so easy. I didn’t know I would be helping cause so much pain and distress.

Fascist men had me learn how to use a knife, a German gun, and a few chemicals that could do things I could not explain. Commander Schwarz was the one I constantly had to report to, but I quickly grew to despise him. He was a tall German man with fierce blue eyes and scars near his cheeks. His voice was so rough it felt like sandpaper in my ears when he spoke. The last thing he told me before me away is to remember my identity, which was ironic seeing as how they’ve changed it for me. I went from Mila, young German student with dreams to be a photographer, to Emily the fifteen year old young British girl that lives on the streets.

My parents believed in Schwarz ideas, but I don’t think they really knew what would happen to me once they decided to give me away. Last I heard, they thought I was going to some sort of education camp to learn more about the fascist future ahead, but I was gone for a year. An entire year went by from when I last hugged my mother to when I was dropped off on the streets of Edinburgh to spy on the enemies I didn’t know I had. I know that I cannot return to Germany until I am done here in Britain.

The locals didn’t give too much attention to a young gal living on the streets. I found my way to helping wounded soldiers soon after the war began. Nobody really questioned where I came from or who I was, as long as I was nursing wounds. Those years were the bloodiest five years in my life. I eventually found a way to live in the attic of one of the clinics, and I stayed there without anyone noticing. Throughout my time in the make-shift clinics, I found a way to get information on strategies being used by the British, how they would communicate, and where they would patrol. All I had to do was write down the important stuff, leave the paper behind a brick in an alley where I would frequently treat soldiers. I knew Schwarz would get the info, but I just had to not get caught.

Within those five years, I start becoming friends with some of the soldiers there. I had already created such a fake story of my life that I was able to expand on it, manufacturing tales that the Germans didn’t even bother teaching me about. We all laughed together, drank together, and even cried together sometimes. Everyone mourned a soul that we couldn’t patch up, even me. Becoming familiar with the soldiers was easy seeing as how I was lonely enough fall in love with having company around me. There were friends I made that I never saw again after they left the clinic, but I do hope to see them again sometime, just to convince myself that maybe war wasn’t completely terrible. I knew for a fact that it was a farfetched, naïve lie to tell myself but I like to believe that the hope in my heart is what helped me sleep at night.

After five years of living in the United Kingdom, I had caught the eye of some military men that had noticed me sleeping in the attic, but they seemed to let me stay in exchange of my nursing services. It was very strange to live in a foreign land for so long and seeing it all change so much in five years. At this point, a year had passed by since I last placed a message in the brick, I even tossed my German gun into a river. I hadn’t seen or heard from Schwarz since, so he either didn’t know how to find me, or he died and I was leaving messages for some other person I didn’t even know.

At this point, I stopped caring about their message. I grew to love Britain; or maybe that’s just what I told myself to talk myself out of ever returning to Germany. I doubt my parents were allowed to live after figuring out what the military did to me, so I really had no reason to go back. I knew that no matter what, I had more love for Britain than I could have for Germany.

It was only yesterday that that I learned that the war ended. I was spending time with some of the soldiers that were feeling well enough to have a beer and walk around. We were joking around and laughing, walking through the small town of Norwich, stopping by the local church. From the end of the street, we hear the yells of some soldiers cheering around, throwing their shirts off. My friends and I looked at each other confused until finally we could clearly hear someone say that, “The war is over!”

Our breathing stopped almost simultaneously. As soon as a big smile starts to spread on my face, I hear a huge bang, and I look beside me to see one of my friends begin to bleed through his chest. The two other soldiers quickly push me aside, to hide behind some cover on the streets, behind some metal benchers. I quickly look around and I see a familiar face with a gun, right beside the military man I was just sharing a laugh with. With another gunshot, my friend is on the ground, lifeless and bloody.

I hear “Mila!” coming from the groveling voice I had learned to despise, the nightmare of my life, Commander Schwarz. As soon as the second shot was fired, the other soldiers are beginning to wrestle the gun away from Schwarz. The commotion in front of me is loud, but not louder than the cheering a block away. The injured soldiers quickly have their injuries exposed by Schwarz, and they begin to struggle against him. Schwarz has an angry, disgusted look on his face as he screams obscenities in German, words only I could understand.

As soon as I see one of my friends falter, I quickly charge into Schwarz, a German man twice my weight. He is briefly knocked back and I take the moment to use my quick hands to search his pockets. I am not sure what I was looking for, but it was instinctual and part of my brain was hoping that I could find and destroy anything that could link me to him. Before I could even catch my breath, I feel his fist dig into my stomach, and my hand clutches something I found in his waist. With the wind knocked out of me, I drop to one knee and I hold onto the hard object my hand has reached and as soon as I look up, I see Schwarz boot in my face. The pattern of his boot is the last thing I remember from yesterday.

I woke up in the clinic this morning, groggy and still a bit too drugged to really understand anything around me. There was not really anyone around, so I decided to head to my house. I don’t know what Schwarz told anyone, but I had to quickly gather a few belongings and leave before anyone could find me. My eyes were beginning to water and I didn’t know if it was because of the drugs or my emotions.

As I approached my doorstep, I found a wrapped up, oddly-shaped paper package on my welcome mat. I look around and see empty hallways as I open the heavy, but small package. I see a slightly rusted gun in my hands with a paper with writing atop it. The note reads simply, “I am waiting inside”. My throat and heart sinks as my heart starts to go twice as fast as it has ever been. Schwarz was right behind this door, and I am not sure if his intentions were to kill me, or bring me home. On another note, I don’t know which I would prefer.

I decided to face my fate and simply walk inside quietly and I instantly heard the floorboards creak. As I look towards the noise, I see some British commanders accompanied by the friends I fought Schwarz with.

“Wow, back from the hospital already?” A commander speaks up.

I was too scared and shocked to respond when my friend speaks his mind as well proudly saying, “Well, at least you’re okay!”

“The hero that stopped the last German in this town from killing another Brit” The commander announces to the room, with applause as a response.

Before I could respond, a half dozen applauding British soldiers come out to greet me. Apparently, when Schwarz kicked me, I was thrown aback with one of his guns flying out from my hand and fell into a puddle nearby and something pulled its trigger, shooting a large bell on the nearby church. Soon enough, the celebrating soldiers nearby ran to the church to bring the festivities, but instead saw two injured British soldiers wrestling a gun away a German commander, with a dead soldier on the ground.

Schwarz did not survive longer than a minute after the bell was rung. The gun that fell in the puddle was gifted to me as my trophy for having helped stop Schwarz. A huge weight was lifted off my shoulders as I finally began to smile again, drinking with my friends, knowing Schwarz was now just a corpse floating on some drift wood in the ocean.

I have never been so worry-free in my life. I know that Britain is my new home now. No one has to know why I was brought here in first place. The people around me will only know me as Emily, the English nurse and friend. Honestly, I don’t know what I could be prouder of right now anyway. My future is in England and my past will never be known.