One of those dark slushy days that we love so much, my brother and I organized the underground militia at the college and snuck out. We were all tired of German rule, and wanted change. We planned multiple strikes on main supply routes for the German soldiers. When the group reached the river we decided to split into smaller groups, so we could go unnoticed and attack multiple routes at once. My brother, Jacob, and I crossed the river heading toward our first target, a main supply train. We huddled in the brush waiting for the train; with explosives we had stolen a few days prior, ready to be set. We wanted to wait for the last possible second to plant the explosives so the engineer wouldn’t notice them and have time to stop. We set the explosives and ran. The train veered off the track from the shattering explosion. The ammo was ours!!! I shook myself off and ran to the train to gather supplies, but I realized my brother hadn’t shown up yet. When we planted the explosives we ran in opposite directions so I decided he was on the other side of the train. I jogged over to the flipped train car and hopped over the connector find my brother a couple hundred yards away. I thought he might have been knocked unconscious by the explosion, but as I drew closer I realized it was much worse. I saw an enormous piece of jagged shrapnel protruding from his chest. He could just barely talk, each breath caused severe pain. He seemed delirious but kept crying out that he wanted the pain to stop. I knelt down and held him close, knowing there was nothing I could do for him. My eyes filled with tears as I as I tried calming him.

“It’s ok, mother will be here soon. She will stop the pain”
My brother died in my arms that day, with his last breath he said “Germany can’t last” As the Germans began pulling out and the American soldiers came to claim concentration camps, I was enlisted and fought beside the Americans with my brother’s memory in the front of my mind.
As the preacher finished their story I held back tears, but I felt more proud than sad at my son’s funeral.