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This story has been told to me by a number of family members, but I was never able to get the story from Gerry Parzen himself.
My Grandfather, Gerry Parzen, was imprisoned in Auschwitz during the Holocaust. He never spoke of the events that occured during that time out of shame or anger or something. He had a number tattooed on his right forearm in cheap india ink which he always concealed beneath long-sleeve shirts (despite living in Atlanta).
 Gerry Parzen, 1948
My grandfather was imprisoned like many Jews during that time. He was a young, strapping worker, but toward the end of the war, the Germans were executing as many people as possible to cover the tracks of genocide. He was lined up for a shower and he knew what the inevitable outcome would be. Figuring he had nothing left to lose, he ran for the fences. Somehow, he was able to make it over the barbed wire and escape into the woods.
For a month, he ate roots, plants, and raw rodents, scared that a fire would alert the Germans to his presence. As the Allies were winning the war and advancing toward Germany , the Russians were pushing in from the West. My grandfather reached the battle lines and helped cart wounded Russian soldiers back from the front line. After the battle, the Russians pressed eastward to Berlin to continue battling the Axis powers. A Russian captain looked at my grandfather and told him he was a free man.
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