The Road to Liberation: Trials and Triumphs of WWII

The Road to LiberationTrials and Triumphs of WWII


Marion Kummerow Ellie Midwood Chrystyna Lucyk-Berger JJ Toner Marina Osipova Rachel Wesson


Copyright © 2020 All stories are copyright of their respective authors.
The contributing authors have asserted their rights in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the authors of their work. All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
PLEASE NOTE: Our authors hail from around the globe so the stories in the collection were written using either US English or British English. Differences in spelling and punctuation reflect this.
Also, several stories include strong language, which some readers may find offensive.
Cover design by JD Smith Design
ISBN Paperback 978-1-908519-69-6
ISBN Hardcover 978-1-908519-70-2


Contents
Foreword
Stolen Childhood
The Aftermath
Magda’s Mark
Liberation Berlin
Too Many Wolves in The Local Woods
When’s Mummy Coming?


Foreword
Seventy-five years ago, the second World War came to an end after six years of suffering and brutality on a near-global scale. The war had long reach; every continent was affected, save for the Indian subcontinent, and even there, a long history of European colonialism assured that cultures and nations who weren’t directly involved in the conflict still felt its devastating effects.
The war was a conflict between two ideologies, a fight to determine which way of life would set the tone for the remainder of the century and the decades beyond. Would fascism or democracy emerge victorious?
The conclusion of the war, with the Allies claiming victory after a long and grueling fight, set the stage for greater liberty and human potential to spread around the world. Yet now, three quarters of a century later, fascism stirs once more all across our planet. How have we forgotten so quickly what our grandfathers and great-grandfathers risked their lives to defend, what our grandmothers and great-grandmothers sacrificed to preserve?
I’ve always felt that historical fiction is akin to the “speculative fiction” genres of sci-fi and fantasy, and perhaps deserves to be included under the “speculative” umbrella. Sci-fi and fantasy provide a means for us to examine our present situation by asking “what if”, by projecting our ideas about the here-and-now into a possible future or a plausible parallel reality and watching how those ideas might play out in slightly different environments, with different technology or in the hands of different cultures. By observing these experiments in possibility, the reader comes to understand more deeply the world in which they live right now—the parameters and limitations that constrain us, the cultural quirks that shape our human natures, and by extension, what must be changed or done away with in order for humanity to grow toward its fullest and best potential.
Historical fiction provides that same service to humanity, but instead of looking to a near or distant future, or into some alternate reality, the historical novel looks into a real, factual past and allows the reader to make a diagnostic assessment of the present. The reader is compelled to ask, “Are we better off now than we were back then? Have we made the changes we needed to make in order to change our society for the better? Or are we still walking the same path, still making the same mistakes that led us into peril before?”
Historical fiction also gives us an important window on our own souls. By reviving the stories of the past and making them vivid and engaging, we can ask ourselves what we would do in similar situations. It’s painful to recognize that right now, in many places around the world—perhaps in your own country, Reader—we are still contending with populist fears and racial and xenophobic hatreds that gave rise to the same conflicts that created World War II. Perhaps we haven’t made the progress we should have made over these seventy-five years; we haven’t come as far as we ought to have come, and our feet are still on a treacherous path.
But though I honor and revere history, and will never stop asserting its importance, I also know that we are not chained to the past. We are not doomed to repeat what has gone before. Individuals like you and I can make small, seemingly insignificant choices that can shift the tone and direction of entire cultures. It is within our power—perhaps it is only in our power, we ordinary folks—to apply the lessons history has to teach and guide our world onto a gentler and more humanitarian road.
A few years back, I wrote a novel about that very idea. Like the books in this collection, The Ragged Edge of Night (which became a Washington Post bestseller, was translated into several languages, and optioned for film) was set during the height of World War II and followed the doings of some unexpected characters: ordinary small-town folks living in a tiny village in rural Germany. In Ragged Edge, I explored how small and seemingly insignificant acts of morality, mercy, and love can change the course of events for the better. I was gratified to see how eagerly readers responded to my message of hope during a dark and uncertain time. That enthusiastic response made me realize that the spirit of kindness and peace isn’t lost, even during times of turmoil—times like these. We may have to search a little harder