A Flicker of Light
“The baby awakened with a loud and pitiful wail. His fever had gone back up, and now he required another alcohol bath. Hans’ painful cries woke Petra, and she sat up and watched this strange and remarkable man as he cared for her infant as if it were his own. She wondered how a Jew who had endured so much hatred and anti-Semitism could be so loving and kind to a little one in a German home.
“I don’t even know your name. I can’t even properly thank you,” Petra said.
“My name is Aaron Gold..., and you are?”
“Petra Jorgensen.”
“You are not German?”
“No, I am not, but my Hans’ father was born in Munich served in the Werhmact. He was stationed at the Russian front. He’s dead. He died in battle,”
“I’m sorry.”
“He wasn’t a real Nazi, you know, not like these others.”
“That’s what they all say.MoreLess
“I don’t even know your name. I can’t even properly thank you,” Petra said.
“My name is Aaron Gold..., and you are?”
“Petra Jorgensen.”
“You are not German?”
“No, I am not, but my Hans’ father was born in Munich served in the Werhmact. He was stationed at the Russian front. He’s dead. He died in battle,”
“I’m sorry.”
“He wasn’t a real Nazi, you know, not like these others.”
“That’s what they all say.MoreLess
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