Your child in Germany during the Second World War

This can be a sensitive subject for many to read, but some of the things I want to say are real, and many of the people in the world do not want to hear it.

Although many articles on WWII in Germany do not have much to do with the personal aspect of how to be raised as a child in war. For those who are interested, this article may be for you.

My parents grew up in Germany during the Second World War. When the war started for the first time, my mother was only three, my father was eight years old. My parents left Germany after the war to start a better life in the States. My mother, who is 70 years old, does not talk much about the war because of tears in her eyes. This is a part of your life, I think you all want to forget.

My mother was one of the five children and initially lived on the western edge of Poland. When Germany and Russia broke into Poland, they had to move away from the few assets they could carry on their backs. His father, who was then in the army, was unfortunately killed in the war. He never got the chance to know who his father was. Her mother was alone, feeding five children, and she did not have a home.

They moved home, home, shelter, anyone who accepted them. There was no money, so my grandmother dressed to sell to others Needed. This little money he was looking for was sometimes enough to get food for the family. Sometimes she was not, and she was lucky enough to find people who would be willing to help them with meals.

Their food consisted mostly of cabbage and bread. Sometimes my grandmother would stay on a single breadbasket for a whole day to find out they were all gone when she was the fate of getting something. At this time, many families would lose their children from school to juveniles – 12 years old for many to get into work and help in the family's life. My grandmother would not allow me despite the temptation. It was too important for her children to expect education, so her children were asleep, sewing and sewing to get the least amount of money. The most favorite places for the kids to attend were the bakeries and all the places where they made food. So at least at the end of the day you can bring some remaining food to your family.

Because they were constantly pushed out of the areas and kept moving, they shared many common rooms with other homeless families. There was always a constant search to find a family that would take you away. Rooms are usually divided by sheets and approximately one half of the size of the garage. They slept several times on the floor on the hay to clear themselves out of the hard floors. If they were lucky enough, the potato bags were used as blankets and often had to be shared. At other times, they find refugees that spend a large room with other families. It was never a happy place – sadness accused the peoples who lost their loved ones. You heard the constant cry and you had to keep your personal belongings in mind, not to steal them. There was no game we could play with, so kids could learn to use their imagination to occupy themselves.

The kids were playing very close to the streets in the ruins. Dead horses and street people were only accepted. They are accustomed to the sound of sirens coming out and looking for shelter where they hide until it's over. Later, I played outside again.

I remember my mother told me they were forced to evacuate in a copy because the bombers came in. Everybody flooded the streets with their families on their backs. Some have been horses and other wagons, but most of them only have the most valuable belongings in their suitcases and bags because they have never had enough time to gather. Survival was the only important thing. As they joined the masses of streets, the bombers suddenly started to bomb the streets. The kids screamed and parents look for shelter and pull their kids behind. I do not want to be too graphic, but imagine that a 5-7-year-old little child who looks at people bombarded before your eyes or looks at another child who played that suddenly dies.

War was a terrible time for everyone, including German civilians. He was forced to obey Hitler's rules, whether he liked it or not. Even after the announcement of the war, my father watched a woman die in front of her for a soldier's hand because she says, "Thank God," and commented badly on Hitler. His throat was immediately cut off. Then a rope jumped up so everyone could see what happens if you say something bad about Hitler.

It's sad, I know. But this is the reality of what it was like many German civilians during the Second World War. No wonder many people wanted to go to America.

Source by sbobet th

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