enemy in the own rows

  a deserter on the front of battle, i raced through the streets of little dutch town to escape the hordes of german soldiers and their rifles. it didn't matter anymore how i got there in the first place, all that counted was i now had made myself their enemy and with that a prized hunt.
still surprised by the number of personnel following me, joining the others from side streets and front doors, i spotted a little pub not yet closed down, filled to the brim with drunken khaki coloured men. somehow, i made it into the line pushing into the bar and took cover in the crowd. wrestling through these men, too drunk to notice me as a chased enemy, my way was out the back door and onto a train passing there.
headed to some eastern european country, it was my big chance for escape, or my big mistake into yet another captivity, provided i'd make it past the border.

how strange to suddenly have had a dream about world war II, to which i don't have much of a connection. i never even played one of the many WWII war games that could've inspired this; who knows where it comes from now.
after that dream there was something about a family that was preparing for group suicide, the parents being the first and me, as their son, desperately trying to stop them