If you are just finding this blog or you have not read the post, “The Last Train” already, please do so first before starting this story. This story begins as the train leaves the city of Danzig, Germany.

“As the train began to pull away from the station, people were still hanging on to the windows and doors, desperate to not be left behind. But as the train gained speed, little by little they lost their grip and were left. Gottfried hung his head out the window, desperately searching for Mutti in the masses of people. We watched as the station disappeared into the distance. Mutti was still nowhere to be found.

Gottfried and I just held each other and prayed that somehow we would be alright. With Vati gone fighting in the war, and now Mutti gone too, at least we still had each other. 45 minutes passed, and I was growing tired from crying. Still no Mutti. I just knew we had lost her.

Suddenly, the door to our compartment opened, and there she stood. The passengers cheered as they were happy to no longer have to hear our cries for her. She made it to the table where Gottfried sat, and took his place, putting him on her lap. I reached down from the overhead compartment to hold her hand, vowing to never let go of her again.

After shoving us through the window she knew she had to find a way to get on the train. Mustering all of her strength, she pushed through the crowd begging them to let her join her children. Her years of training with horses and working as a masseuse paid off, as she somehow managed to grab on to a railing between two railroad cars and pull herself up onto the platform between the cars before it left the station.

She had lost her suitcase, and she was stuck outside, but by some miracle, she had made it on to the train before it pulled away and was strong enough to not let go. Eventually a passenger made room for her to come inside the train, and from there she slowly worked her way thru the crowded cars begging passengers to let her get by so she could find her children.

Despite losing the luggage, we at least had on a few layers of clothing and we still had our backpacks, so we shared a bit of the rabbit roast, overjoyed to finally be back together. The train stopped at a small bridge while German soldiers were preparing explosives to prevent advances from the Russian Army. Moving again into the countryside we heard a loud explosion in the distance. The Germans had blown up the railroad bridge that we had just passed over.

As the sun rose on January 31st, 1945, the Russian infantry blew up all remaining railroad tracks in or out of the city. While we made our way through the countryside and towards Berlin, we were totally unaware that we were on the last train to ever leave Danzig. While a few German soldiers attempted to hold Hitler’s fortress, the city was completely destroyed by the Russians. Over a million people died trying to find a way out across the partially frozen sea and during the bombardments. Nothing would be left of our beloved hometown.

But at that moment, all I felt was joy. Mutti was here with us. At least we were together, no matter what was happening at home. ” – Jochen

I was so blessed that my Omi (German for Grandmother) lived until her 90s and she came to visit us in America many times throughout my life. When I close my eyes I can still picture her larger than life stature and her big strong German hands. Had she not found the strength to hold on that day, who knows what would have happened to my father and Uncle. Would they have been orphaned?

Her strength was a guiding force that protected her family time and again while the war raged. When they reached Berlin, she made the tough decision to keep them moving instead of staying there with my Great Grandmother. Food had become scarce, so she decided to continue on to Austria, so that they would not be a burden on family in Berlin and would be farther away from the fighting. It once again saved their lives, as later they would learn that my Great Grandmother eventually starved to death in Berlin.

My Omi was the definition of strength and she did whatever was necessary to take care of her children and keep them safe. But she’s not the only strong woman in this World. Throughout history and currently, so many women from places all over the world show the same drive to do just about anything if it means that their children will live and be safe.

My father, uncle, and grandmother narrowly escaped with their lives that day, and then lived as refugees for a long time in Austria. They survived by eating potato peels and kitchen scraps from the inn my Omi worked at until it was safe enough to return to Germany. They were the lucky ones. People often talk about how many die during combat, but rarely mention those who starve to death after war, when their cities lie in ruins and there is no way to find food. It is estimated that 25 million people died after World War 2 due to famine and starvation. Somehow, a fact I rarely hear mentioned.

Every time I hear people talking about refugees as some terrible drain on society, my heart breaks for them. The truth is, no matter what war or country they flee, they are just trying to survive and rebuild. They have most likely seen and experienced things that you could never imagine. Most have lost everything and are desperate to get a second chance to know peace and stability after war.

If you ever meet a refugee, please show them kindness. Please show them compassion. Please show them love. They have already suffered so much. Please don’t make their suffering worse by making them feel unwanted when they already have nothing left to go home to. They just want to know peace once again after suffering of war.

Be their peace.

Love, Verina