Home From Hitler’s War
by Miklós Markovitz

Twentyeight..twenty-eight more miles to home, to home, to home. I start marching again, the way I got used to, at the labor camp, though I do not have to any more. I am free. Free and returning home.

To Tokaj.

Home. What do I mean by home? My parents are surely not there, neither is my sister. They were taken away, out of the country by the Germans.
And the Russian Army is still at the Danube. In Germany people are still being killed every day. Is my family alive? Who knows? But, I am still going home. I can’t wait for the moment to arrive, but I know it will last hours yet. Now, 26 more miles. Only 26. Twenty-six..twenty-six..one, two, three, four…one, two, three, four…
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