"On the average, only those prisoners could keep alive who, after years of trekking from camp to camp, had lost all scruples in their fight for existence; they were prepared to use every means, honest and otherwise, even brutal force, theft, and betrayal of their friends, in order to save themselves. We who have come back, by the aid of many lucky chances or miracles--whatever one may choose to call them--we know: the best of us did not return."

-Victor E. Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning

Consider this your fair warning. The fic that follows is set during World War Two. There will be no gory, graphic descriptions of concentration camps, but that doesn't mean that this story is berefit of horror. More importantly, be warned that I'm playing fast and loose with historical accuracy. I am not a World War Two scholar; I don't claim to know all the events that transpired over the course of the war or the years preceeding the war. We're not even going to pretend that we know what the societal doings of that time were. Obviously I shan't make glaring errors such as having Pearl Harbor bombed on December 25th, 1945, but I am not going to be, nor am I trying to be, accurate to the last detail. The dates of the war and the major doings of both parties will be followed, but that's about it. You want accuracy, go read a memoir of someone who was there, or an actual textbook.

That said, I would also like to make a disclaimer that this is first and foremeost a piece of fiction and should be taken as such. No offense was meant towards those survivors of the Holocaust (or the children, grand-children and great-grand children of Holocaust survivors) who should happen to stumble onto this site and this story.

Now. Go. Read. Remember.