A young Nazi officer loomed over them. The camp had not been emptied of all Nazis. Just when freedom seemed so certain, they would be killed amongst the stolen last possessions of their people.
The Nazi officer stared at Eva. He trilled three high-pitched whistles. Then he smiled, and his whole face changed. It was Peter.
“Eva, it’s me, Peter. I have come to set you free,” he said matter-of-factly.
Eva stood very still, her mouth hanging open. “Peter? It was your whistles I heard!”
“Yes,” he said, at last coming face to face with the girl he had dreamed of for so many years. “I hoped you were still here. I hoped you could hear me.”
She looked him up and down. “Peter! You’re a man,” she said. “What are you doing in a Nazi uniform?”
“It is the best way for a rebel to hide. We’re blowing up the camp,” Peter said. “The Allied Forces are only a few days away.”
“A rebel in a Nazi uniform?” Eva asked. He smiled and nodded.
She looked at Bert. “Peter’s a rebel, Papa!”
Bert walked over, put his arms around Peter, and buried his face, wet with tears, in his shoulder. “Peter, your father was right. You were destined to save the Jews!”
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