Chapter 1
Finsbury Migrant Hostel South Australia―1950
It was dark, Rolf slept, rolling around in his bed, dreaming the same dream.
He felt pain in his head - what the hell? He was scared - fear descended on him like a thick cloud that seemed to clutch at him as his heart raced.
Control your fear. Think, think! What did he know? He had no idea what was happening; maybe they were trying to kill him.
‘Don’t make me go,’ Rolf begged.
The boy’s trusting eyes immersed his father in a warm embrace leaving him feeling contented and fulfilled in his euphoria.
But the dream changed to a nightmare.
Tobruk, with the Devil standing over him. Rolf’s eyes locked onto the apparition’s eyes that were glowing like twin lights.
The bayonet!!!
The Devil smashed the butt of his rifle into Rolf’s head. He sat up screaming, his eyes open. The sound of the battlefield continued in his head.
’Die you Hitler shit,’ yelled the Devil, ‘die you Hitler shit.’
Rolf woke and clamped his hands over his ears then jumped off the bed, still screaming and ran from his bed, his face distorted in fear. The sound of the battlefield ceased, but the voice continued, ‘Die you Hitler shit. Die you Hitler shit.’
He slammed into the closed door and collapsed on the floor, whimpering. The shock brought him back to reality, but fear continued to make him shake.
Rolf shouted, ‘Lass mich in Ruhe. Lass mich in Ruhe,’ while other men in the hut cursed in Polish.
‘You’re speaking German, Nazi bastard. What’s wrong with you?’ shouted a man in Polish.
Rolf lifted his head, ‘Sorry, nightmare,’ he replied in Polish then crawled on his hands and knees back to his bed staring at the ceiling too frightened to go to sleep in case the Devil returned. Slowly his terror subsided, and he remembered he had shouted, leave me alone, in German at the top of his voice. Fear of discovery returned.
His mind drifted back to his arrival at sun-drenched Outer Harbour, Adelaide’s deep-sea port and his relief at finally reaching his destination.
