By Natasha Julius
Editor’s Note: Last Wednesday, our very own Natasha Julius announced to the world that she had birthed a son, Djuka Julius Peterson. “Pronunciation guide, please!” editor Steve Rhodes asked. “JOO-kuh,” Natasha replied. Then, a few days later, the following e-mail landed in the inbox of a few lucky folks. We thought we’d share.
Dear Friends,
In 1939, fearing a Nazi occupation, my father’s family fled their home in Zagreb, Croatia, and joined the partisan resistance. My father was ten and his older brother 14. The resistance needed every hand they could get, so once my father’s family fled their home in Zagreb they all joined up. My father worked as a messenger until he was evacuated to Italy two years later. His mother, a nurse, joined him shortly thereafter. His father, who prior to the Nazi invasion had run one of the only psychiatric hospitals in Yugoslavia, served as a medic near the front lines. The older son joined the infantry.
When he was about 16, my uncle’s unit was ambushed and he was shot in the shoulder. After the fighting stopped, the triumphant SS soldiers walked through the field shooting any partisan survivors. The one that found my uncle stood over him for a moment and crowed in German, “How does the SS shoot?”
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Posted on July 18, 2016