V-E Day 75-Year Anniversary & The Road to Liberation

Today, May 8, 2020, is the

seventy-fifth anniversary of V-E Day,

Victory in Europe 

a bit of my personal family history, plus

I am featuring the anthology, 

The Road to Liberation:

Trials and Triumphs of WWII

The struggle to end the war in Europe has personal meaning for me because of the small role my father played in World War Two. He was still in high  school when the United States entered the war. However, shortly afterward, he joined the Army Air Corps, went through their minimum college courses for officer's training, and ended up as a navigator on a B-24 Liberator stationed in England. 

My father's B-24 crew, Franklin Hobusch is second from right.

In spite of being there putting his life on the line, during visits in town, he was subjected to a certain amount of discrimination because of his German surname. It annoyed him no end, because he had more English ancestry than German.

He flew missions for only two months before the war in Europe ended. After his death, while transferring some of his pictures to an acid-free album, I found a photograph of my mother with his bombing runs listed on the back.

It is with great interest I am reading the anthology,

The Road to Liberation: Trials and Triumphs of WWII

a compilation of six novels about the last days of the war and beyond. Sorry to say, I have been so tied up meeting a publishing deadline for my own book in a different genre, I have not yet completed it. However, I wish to share the details of the book with you along with two excerpts.

About The Road to Liberation:

Trials and Triumphs of WWII

Six riveting stories commemorating the end of WWII.

From USA Today, international bestselling and award-winning authors comes a collection filled with courage, betrayal, hardships and, ultimately, victory over some of the most oppressive rulers the world has ever encountered.

By 1944, the Axis powers are fiercely holding on to their quickly shrinking territories.

The stakes are high—on both sides:

Liberators and oppressors face off in the final battles between good and evil. Only personal bravery and self-sacrifice will tip the scales when the world needs it most.

Read about a small child finding unexpected friends amidst the cruelty of the concentration camps, an Auschwitz survivor working to capture a senior member of the SS, the revolt of a domestic servant captured by the enemy, a young Jewish girl in a desperate plan to escape the Gestapo, the chaos that confused underground resistance fighters in the Soviet Union, and the difficult lives of a British family made up of displaced children..

2020 marks 75 years since the world celebrated the end of WWII. These books will transport you across countries and continents during the final days, revealing the high price of freedom—and why it is still so necessary to “never forget”.

Included books are:

Stolen Childhood by Marion Kummerow

The Aftermath by Ellie Midwood

When's Mummy coming? by Rachel Wesson

Too Many Wolves in the Local Woods by Marina Osipova

Liberation Berlin by JJ Toner

Magda’s Mark by Chrystyna Lucyk-Berger

Buy now and indulge in more than 1000 pages filled with suspense, danger, heartbreak, and redemption.

With a foreword from Olivia Hawker, author of the Washington Post bestseller "The Ragged Edge of Night".

You may find this book at the following retailers:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble

 

Excerpt from Stolen Childhood by Marion Kummerow:

(This story alternates between the experiences of teenage Rachel and her four-year-old sister, Mindel. This excerpt is from Mindel’s story.)

          The crowd organized itself, everyone falling into different lines of five people wide each. Mindel kept clinging to the stranger, because she had no idea what else to do.

          Hours later, when her ever grumbling stomach gave vicious stabs and she barely noticed her legs anymore, the line came to a stop and the woman turned around. “Now, get away from me, you filthy urchin!”

          Mindel had become used to being called names, and filthy urchin was one of the nicest things people had thrown at her during the past months. Nevertheless, she let go of the woman's skirt and moments later found herself standing all alone.

          “I'm hungry,” Paula [the doll] said from beneath Mindel's dress.

          “I'll go and look for something to eat. Usually they have soup somewhere.” Mindel trotted off to where she saw another line forming, and just like she had hoped, there was a pot at the end that was even bigger than she.

          With renewed energy she took her place at the end of the line, forewarning her doll, “Paula. I know you don't like the soup, but you have to eat every drop of it, because it will keep you strong. Promise?”

          Valiantly she kept her eyes dry as she repeated the words that Rachel had told her so many times. If only she could find her sister again.

          When she finally arrived at the soup pot, the food-bearer, an old and emaciated woman with hollow eyes, filled the ladle and was about to pour the soup for Mindel, when her arm stopped mid-way. “Where's your bowl?”

          “I... don't have one.”

          “No bowl, no soup.” The woman said and beckon with her arm to the person behind Mendel. “Next one.”

          Mindel was shoved out of the way, stumbling along the dusty ground. She watched with envy as others filed past, each and every person holding up a cup or bowl of some sort. Up until now she'd never given it a thought, but it became all too clear that Rachel had both of their cups, and without one, Mindle wouldn't eat.

          She felt like screaming out loud. But if she had learned one thing in these past months, it was that nothing good ever came of screaming. Most of the times that resulted in nothing but kicks, lashes with a whip or punches. Therefore, she ran off, her only goal to find her sister. 

          Gathering up all her courage she asked one of the friendlier–looking guards, “Do you know where my sister is?”

          “What do I care, you filthy Jew!”

          He made a movement as if to hit her and she ran as quick as her feet would carry her, bumping into a small group of women with shaved heads. “Please, I need to find my sister!”

          “Good luck with that.”

          “You'll never find your sister. Get over it.” 

Excerpt from The Aftermath by Ellie Midwood:

          Tadek blinked, once again thrown off track. Was she pulling his leg? Whatever was the case, he decided to tread carefully. “Why do you think they put us in those camps?”

          Another dismissive shrug. “Protective custody orders. It was a wartime measure only. As soon as the war was over, you all would have been resettled, to the east, to farmland. You would be like hired workers on the farm. Or factories. You would be employed according to your qualifications. But while the war was in progress, you all had to be taken into protective custody so that Eastern Judeo-Bolsheviks wouldn't recruit you into their army. It appears such fears were justified; they did recruit you as soon as the opportunity presented itself. You said so yourself.”

          She recited it like a lesson, sure of her knowledge and without displaying a single shadow of doubt. A sad smile slowly passed over Tadek’s features without reaching his eyes. “My God... “ he whispered to himself, regarding her, almost with sorrow, this time. 

          Gerlinde scowled. “What?”

          It was a familiar German ‘what,’ an angry half-a-shout. She was on guard once again.

          Tadek just shook his head without lowering his eyes. “You really do believe that, don't you?” He said softly.

          “Of course, I believe that,” she replied, annoyed. “Do you believe that the sun rises in the East?”

          “Yes. I also believe that I put my own brother's body on a gurney in the crematorium where I worked.”

          “Did the Amis teach you to say it to me?” She was growing agitated.

          “No.”

          “There were no crematoriums in Auschwitz! In any other camp either!”

          “Not anymore. The SS blew them up before pulling out and sending the survivors on a death march. I hid in the barracks and decided to wait for the Russians instead, but I still saw the columns march off. Some walked barefoot on the snow. Whoever couldn't keep pace was shot.”

          “Rot!” Gerlinde objected crossly. “Why would anyone shoot them? The SS was there to protect you! You were all valuable workers! Who shoots valuable workers?!”