I am Bruno. I lived in the German city of Berlin during the Second World War. I was not an intelligent boy. Though i was living during the time of the German occupation of Austria, Holland and other countries i did not know anything of the ruler of Germany. My father was German Army officer and he was transferred to the countryside of Auschwitz and we all moved to the countryside. I in particular was very reluctant to move as i missed my friends and my big house in Berlin. By the way i am not the boy in the striped pajamas the story refers to. He is Shmuel a Jew. I first met him in one of my exploring trips. I was not allowed to go out of my house as it was heavily guarded with the German soldiers. However i found a sneaky letout in the backyard attic and went through it to the nearby farm. The farm was barb-fenced and Shmuel was inside it sitting with his sagging head.
He was wearing a striped uniform with a number stitched on to it. I met him very often afterwards and befriended him. My father had made arrangements for my schooling to continue here. For a change i did not go to school on the other hand the school did come to the house in the guise of a tutor. I was not interested in books much, save the adventure books that i relished reading. That never betrayed the political history of Germany. My elder sister Gretel, though only four years elder than i, behaved as if she were an elderly woman. She was coquettish and spent a lot of time with one of the guarding soldiers in the guise of knowing 'the history in the making'. She became interested in the symbol of 'Swastika' and pasting newspaper cuttings on the war on the walls of her room.
Once i found Shmuel in my house cleaning the goblets with a small cloth. I gave him a biscuit to eat. While he was eating a soldier got in and chided both of us for the act. I lied to the soldier that i did not know him and he himself took the food without anyone's permission. I tended his apology later and felt sorry for making him receive a gash above his right eye. In the mean time my grand mother was not happy that her son being a Colonel in the Fuhrer's army. She never visited us our countryside home. We soon received the news of her death and her funeral was conducted much against her wishes of placing the Fuhrer's command on her coffin. My mother objected to this and after the grandma's funeral the relationship between my mother and my father strained very badly and she decided to move us children with her to another place. I was not interested in parting with Shmuel. Meanwhile, Shmuel told me that his father had been missing for sometime. I assured him that i could find him. I did find his father in the end when Shmuel and i were put in the gas chamber of the camp, into the camp i went by digging a small trench and crawling through it and wearing the striped clothes that Shmuel, i do not know how, brought for me. Now i live in the book of John Boyne along with my friend in stripped pajamas. In 2008 i was born in rolls of films and i still inhabit it with colour and health.
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