A game. Thats what i thought it was, thats what my father told me it was. I was a child during world war II, a jewish child. My father took us to the station to catch the train towards the camp. He told me it was an excursion. WHen we git to the camo we were seperated from mum. The uniformed men spil us in to men and women. We were taken to a store room that was turned into a bunker, when a soldier walked in. He needed a translater to translate the soldiers commands to italian as most of the campers in our bunker were italian and my dad volunteered straight away. He said the man told us it was a game, a game that if we win we would get a tank. I was a child and i wanted a tank. As weeks passed and people werre gassed i thought they were just eliminated. Till the last day sirens rang around the camp and people ran towards doors shouting that they were free. my dad told me that we had one and i had to hide until the tank was delivered. My dad was escorted into a alley way and a gunfire sounded i came to a realisation. It wasnt a game, it was never a game.