The boy in uniformBang! Bang! Bang! There was a loud, distinctive knock on the door and everyone knew who it was. The Nazis had finally arrived, they were ready. The Feierabend family had remained silent and hidden in a small, cramped apartment above their watch shop in Poland. Two years had passed and now they were there, separated only by a cold wooden door, the Germans were waiting for them. Shmule Feierabend was scared and didn't fully understand what was happening. “Put on as many warm clothes as you can,” Dad had said, and at that moment three Germans knocked on the door. The oldest of the group said, “You have five minutes to gather your things and meet me on the street,” in a loud, forceful way that left the words ringing in their ears. That was all he said before quickly turning and walking out, with one of the guards following just a step or two behind. The third guard, however, stood in a corner of the room and watched Shmule, his parents, and his older brother gather the few belongings they had. They left the dark apartment and stepped into the outside light for the first time. two years. The cold air flowed across their faces as the Feierabend family looked through the crowds of Jews who had gathered in the streets looking for friends, but found no one. The Nazis piled up the suitcases and loaded everyone into the freight car of a train. Shmule, in a panic, looked at his mother and asked, "Where are we going mom?" His mother smiled and said, "Adventure, darling, you don't have to worry," but he detected a tone he'd never heard before in her voice and knew something was wrong, terribly wrong. The freight car was packed and ...... half of the paper ...... I was the same age but I had brown hair and nice clothes like the camp guards. The boy came and sat down and the two stared at each other for a long time, looking back and forth through the wire fence that separated them. It was a long time before the boys finally spoke. "Who are you?" said the boy. For fear of speaking, Shmule didn't answer. The stranger then said, “My name is Bruno, Bruno Hoess, I just moved here.” “My name is Shmule,” said Shmule. “Shmule?” Bruno said several times, trying to pronounce it the same way he had heard it a few moments before. “Yes, Shmule, that's the Hebrew name for Samuel.” The two talked for a while, both answering the question posed by the other. It got dark and Shmule had to go back to his shack because roll call would be soon. The two got up, made plans to meet the next day and said goodbye.