Refugee in search of a homeland

Quedlinburg," I suggested.

"What will we do, sleep upstairs, or in the cellar?" Mutter was not too keen to spend the night down there.

"A direct hit seems unlikely, as they are shooting over us." "I think we can risk it."

We decided to sleep in our beds upstairs. Even Gerda did not seem to be too anxious, although the firing became more constant.

"Don't worry when you hear the whistle, Gerda. By then, the shell has already gone past," I told her.

"Oh, is that so?" I had to explain that sound travelled slower than the shell. She seemed reassured.

It wasn't a very restful night. The shooting kept up all night, with a few resting periods. We were glad, though, to be in our beds instead of in the cellar. Were we getting slightly blasé, living in constant danger? We could not understand why they kept shooting continuously. There was no sign of any German resistance. They must have already fled beyond Quedlinburg.

Heinz didn't come that day. I was glad, he didn't, it was too dangerous, because of the intermittent shelling. I was restless and edgy. I felt like a caged-in bird.

Next day the shooting gradually stopped. I went over to Heinz and we decided to get out for a walk. We had been confined to our homes for too long. We strolled towards the nearby forest, away from the main road. The weather was mild and the birds were practicing their singing. After all, it was spring.

As we were in deep conversation, we suddenly heard a shot and a bullet whistling past us. Both of us dropped instantly to the ground. My heart was pounding so loudly that I thought the noise would give us away. That bullet had certainly been meant for us. We lay there closely together, motionless, for what seemed a long time. I squeezed Heinz's arm, which pressed my head closely against his, reassuring him that I was as terrified as he. Then I whispered into his ear: "We won't move."

After a while we heard a sound. "What was that?" It was his turn to whisper into my ear. "Must have been a twig breaking, or something like that." "Maybe they are coming for us?"

Slowly I lifted my head away from his and looked up. "I can't see anyone."

A few minutes passed. We remained motionless, huddled together. There was another noise.

"I think I can hear someone talking." "They're speaking German! I'm sure." We both shouted across, at the top of our voice: "Don't shoot! We are German boys."

We still didn't move. It seemed an endless time, before I saw a German

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