I have just finished a book written by a guy who was imprisoned in a prison camp that used to be just outside the town I live in.
It was built by the American forces, later taken over by the British forces, at the end of WWII and it must have been incredibly huge, kept there were Germans from all over the country, men, women, teenagers, pretty much regardless of what role they played in the war, if any.
Now, for the longest time I never even knew this camp existed - it must have been one of the worst ones - they didn't have any sort of shelter in there, food was rare...the guy, I have to point out, did not point fingers at anyone, he himself was a playwright and journalist when the war started, he was drafted, of course, but due also to his language skills he, who never believed in the whole Nazi ideology, managed to keep a low profile and was even able to help some people during the war.
So, what his story, which is not only about his months in the camp but also about what he had experienced during the war, boils down to is the very simple and obvious realisation that, regardless of nationality, skin colour or religion, people are the same wherever you go and you will always find those who turn into brutal monsters as soon as they are given some authority over others - and then those who will take great risks to bring some good even to those they consider enemies.
It hits home especially as it all happened in an area that I see, walk in, basically every day.
I had no idea what to expect when I started reading - but it did touch me deeply.
