Herschel's Log - Entry Two.

Herschel’s Log

Well as long as I have it I might as well write in this thing, seeing as I have it again. I didn’t want Gabe to think I was glad to have this journal back; I didn’t want him to think anything good had come of his showing up here. The faster and safer I can get him - and Jim too - out of here, the better. Neither of them should be here. Just because my life is over doesn’t mean theirs needs to be.

            Gabe had my journal. I had thought it was lost, for all these years. I believed the only documentation, the only proof that Wellington’s had ever happened, was blown off the face of the earth with the rest of the school. Friday, May 23, 1941, that’s the last entry. It should have been the last entry of my life, if I was lucky. It would have been so fitting: a desperate, heartbroken letter to Kristen. It should have been the last thing I ever wrote.

            But I am very much alive, to my own constant disappointment, and so is Rebecca. Five hospitals the boys injured in the Wellington’s bombing of 1941 were sent to, and the four of us were entirely split up. Only Rebecca and I were sent to the same hospital, because of our last names. They knew we would be siblings. I knew Gabe would get out all right, since he was in the basement, and I had seen Erich get blasted back and knew he would live. But until today, I never knew what happened to Jim.

They don’t understand. I had to come back. What else could I do? After the explosion, I made the decision as soon as I found Rebecca. This was the only home I knew. I knew I was supposed to go back. How could I just stay in England, when everyone I knew was still trapped here because of me? Even if I had wanted to stay, I didn’t have anywhere to go. I couldn’t bare the thought of waiting around to see which of the guys had lived; it was too much. I knew I would rather go back to Poland and forget them, than face the fact that I might have lost any of them.

            When Rebecca found me in the hospital, she was hardly worse for wear than she had been before the explosion. But I could tell she had been crying for days. She told me Jim hand thrown himself over her to protect her from the ceiling collapse, that when she woke up he was gone. The rescue workers who were left said that they had never seen a boy with her, and that they must have taken him away with the rest of the dead.

She conceded to go with me more easily than I would have thought. I think, like me, she couldn’t stand to wait around to see if Jim was alive. The way she told it, there was a good chance he hadn’t made it out. It made it much harder to leave, knowing Jim had saved Rebecca’s life. But our only chance of claiming a normal life was shattered, and I knew that if I was going to live out the rest of my life miserably, I had to go back. Rebecca didn’t necessarily agree to go with me, but when I told her I was going, she wouldn’t let me go alone.

It’s my own fault I ended up here, but every day I wish I hadn’t brought Rebecca. It wasn’t fair, I know that now. She tried to convince me that going back wouldn’t do any good, and she was right. She tried to warn me that everyone �" everyone who was left �" would expect me to step into my father’s shoes. God, I wish I could. I guess on some level I thought I could take his place, too. That was the only real reason I had to come back, to finish what he had started. But now it’s all I can do to get up in the morning, facing the idea of another day in this dark hole.  I’m worse than worthless here, but I’m trapped here by my own stupidity now. The soldiers don’t even know I’m here, but I’ll sure as hell get shot if I make a run for it. And I could never live with myself if I left now, again.

But Rebecca should have stayed in England. She was happy there. She knew it was stupid to come back. I should have made her stay. I had promised I would. But after everything went crazy, I couldn’t let myself do it. When she lost track of Jim after that day, she didn’t have anywhere to go either. I convinced her she was selfish to stay here when our friends from home were still trapped. But after two years of watching her waste away, I know I was the selfish one. I just couldn’t stand the thought of doing this without her.

Neither of us could have imagined what we found when we got back. Half the people we knew were gone. The ghetto had been liquidated. The women and children �"

No. I can’t talk about this now. Not ever. It’s behind me. There was nothing I could have done.

            Though I can’t imagine talking about it to him in a million years, Erich might be the only one who can get why I came back. Considering that he ended up a soldier again, he must have gone home too, after Wellington’s. He must have figured that his old life was the right life, or maybe just better than having no life, just like me. Even if the life he had gone back to had turned him back into a Nazi, I know he made his decisions for the same reasons I made mine.

            Well, not exactly the same, I guess. If he went back to Germany to escape his memories from Wellington’s, seeing Gabe was probably the last thing he wanted. He can’t be too happy about playing babysitter to Moretti tonight. He’s put himself in a permanent state of denial, but if he thinks we’re fooled he’s an idiot. We all know he couldn’t forget a thing like that just by going back to the army.

            Gabe was the last person I ever expected to come looking for us. I mean, I knew he and Rebecca were friends, probably better friends than he was with any of the guys. But I never imagined he would actually come. He showed up here this morning with a stupid escape plan that only showed that he still didn’t know anything about being a man. I should cut him some slack; he came halfway across the world to help me, abused his Italian visa papers to make his way into occupied Poland.  But he’s got his motives too and I know it. He still looks at Erich like he used to back at Wellington’s, like there’s a miracle standing in front of him. Gabe would never have come here just for me. Neither would Jim.

            Oh boy, if we’re going to talk about motives, Jim’s got that covered. I knew he would do something stupid like this eventually. But I hadn’t expected Rebecca to have a hand in it. Not now that she has Peter again. Whatever she and Jim had back in England, it didn’t go away. They’re in her room now, which is why I have the time to write. I’ll give them another minute before I go in there, and I’ll knock his teeth out if he touches her. We’re bound to fight tonight anyway. There’s not much he can do here anyway. He’ll figure out soon there’s no way to get us out of here. Then he will promise to come back and we’ll never see him again. This was a stupid, fun adventure for him, just like Wellington’s.

            As mad as I am at them for being here, I can’t pretend I’m not glad to have them back. Those three were the best friends I had ever had, and I missed them every day. Sometimes, when this life gets to be too much to bear, I close my eyes and remember the stupid, careless times we had back at Wellington’s, and I manage hold on for one more day. It was the best time of my life, and I can’t pretend anything else.

            So tomorrow I have to face them all again. I don’t know where. Certainly not here, not with Erich. But there’s no way around this conversation. We have to figure out what to do next. Nothing will be the same now that we’re together again. I just hope those idiots don’t get me killed.