The rising sun awoke my sleeping eyes and filled them with the sunrise’s pinks and yellows and oranges. The morning was the one time I could forget all the evil that surrounded me. For a few precious moments, I could focus on the beauty, not the way that soldier looked at my mother as she fainted from exhaustion, or the look on that one mother’s face as she saw her only son being shipped to Auschwitz. This was the only peace my body had in the long, grueling work day.

Too soon, soldiers snapped me out of my beautiful trance. They were barking orders at us like every other day. “Where are your shoes you miserable Jew!” and “You only get 7 ounces of bread this morning. The cook doesn’t have enough to spare for you!” Today was a normal day in my life of a thirteen year old, living in a concentration camp, girl.

Quickly, I scurried to breakfast, making sure to avoid the soldiers’ eyes. I’d made that mistake once before, and I still have the scars from it. The line for our daily bread was long. No one was smiling or laughing. Everyone was on edge from the brutality shown the night before. I joined the extremely straight line, by myself. Hopefully, Abigail would join me soon. She was my only true friend in this dark place.

For another hour I waited in line, just waiting for a few ounces of bread and this tasteless liquid they call “coffee.” I remember the coffee back home, and this is not it. Finally, I reached up to get my little piece of bread and drink. I blew on my coffee as I walked to the wooden tables provided for our “comfort” for eating. I had gotten more than one sliver eating at those tables.

Right before I was to sit down, a young soldier came up to me.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” I trembled in my worn-out shoes. His face was twisted into a sneer, taunting me. “Aww…aren’t you so cute?” He pinched my cheeks with his rough hands.

Eyeing my food, he mockingly said, “Now, such a precious little girl like you shouldn’t have to carry such a heavy load as you are. Let me carry your food for you.”

Restraining my tongue from saying anything I would regret and my hand to keep from slapping him, I slowly handed my only rations to him.

“Ha,” he said, slamming my only food into the ground. In a baby voice he drawled, “Well I guess my hand slipped.” With a big laugh, he swaggered away, pleased with himself for bullying a young girl. His fellow soldiers slapped him on the back for a job well done. I could feel hot tears threatening to run down my cheeks. Before anyone could see them, I ran away from the eating area, back to the bunkhouse.
It seemed like an eternity before I got there. My face was red from the sobs I just couldn’t keep in. I jiggled the doorknob to my bunk. It wouldn’t move! The guards had already locked it. There was no privacy for me to cry; I was on public display. I can just imagine the next big newsreel hit back in Germany. Filthy Jew Unworthily Cries Because Her Bread Fell in the Mud.
I curled up against the bunk’s outer wall. Just then, another soldier came up to me. Dreading what was coming, I looked at my caked fingernails.
“You!” he shouted. “What are you doing there? Get moving!”
Hastily, I stood up mumbling, “Yes sir.” As the soldier passed me, his hand bumped into mine. I could feel something soft and squishy. It made crumbs in my hands, which, at that moment, was the best thing in the world. Just when I thought the whole world was cruel and evil, a little rainbow shows up. It was just an unexpected Nazi soldier with a touch of remorse. And ten ounces of hope in the shape of bread.