This is rather personal. I've very rarely shared this with anyone. Here goes. I heard this story twice from someone who was relating it decades after it had occurred, so my telling might not be 100 percent accurate.
When my grandmother was 18 or 19 or so, she rented out a room in her house in Legionowo, Poland to a middle-aged gentleman who was a retired lawyer and his wife. Grandma's father was killed by the Germans early in the war, leaving her the breadwinner for her mother and two younger sisters. I believe the people she took in were from another town and introduced themselves to her as acquaintances of acquaintances. She happily took them in.
The gentleman, though a very nice person, behaved oddly at times. One thing that should have set off Grandma's internal alarms was that he was devoutly religious and was constantly praying or praying the rosary. Another woman Grandma was renting a room to told her flatly "Those people are Jews!" Grandma defended him and tried to brush her housemate off. Her housemate hotly told her "I guarantee they are Jews! I'm telling you, they are Jews! They are Jews if I've ever seen any!" Grandma either didn't believe it or didn't want to believe it. Maybe she figured it wasn't any of her business. Maybe she needed the rent money. Maybe she was fooled because both the retired lawyer and his wife "didn't look it", being blond and blue-eyed. Maybe it was because she liked both of them and so couldn't believe that they were actually Jews. She had grown up with certain prejudices, unfortunately.
One day, she had the incredibly bad luck to have her home raided by German soldiers. A couple of teenaged Polish boys who were resistance fighters had hopped over her wall and trampled through her garden because they had a gaggle of Germans hot on their heels. They made a run for it into the woods behind Grandma's home. The Germans had pursued them to the walls of the garden and naturally assumed they had hid in Grandma's home. They burst in, overturned furniture, ripped down curtains and paintings and turned the house upside down looking for the boys.
The gentleman Grandma had rented the room to had an epic meltdown. He decided to confess right then and there, though they had not interrogated him yet. He told them he had been born a Jew but converted upon marrying a Polish Catholic woman. He begged for his life, telling them he was a devout Roman Catholic. That didn't save him. They searched him, patted him down and probably checked to see if he was circumcised (he obviously was). Then they marched him out, shot him and left to arrest my Grandmother, who was at work when all this had happened. (The man's wife arrived home later that day and was obviously heart-broken and furious at what had happened in her absence. She later moved out and went heaven knows where.) They also lined up all the numerous inhabitants of the house, adult and child, and interrogated them. They asked them to recite Roman Catholic prayers and asked them questions about the Roman Catholic faith. Thankfully, all of them passed the test.
They interrogated my Grandma for hours upon hours. They threatened to shoot her. They threatened to shoot her mother, cousin and two younger sisters. They threatened to shoot all of her housemates and even a few neighbors. They wanted to exterminate the entire house, as if the people inside were roaches. The only thing that saved her was that the man had told them he lied to Grandma upon arriving at her home. He pleaded with them not to punish her and insisted that she didn't know. These animals made Grandma sign document upon document attesting that she didn't know before they let her go. Because of this and the multitude of other horrors that she experienced during the occupation, my Grandma is still somewhat mentally unhinged to this day. She was never the same, as you can imagine. She's ninety years old now and is still living with what happened during the war.
Do I personally forgive them for nearly killing my entire family? And me, decades before I was even born? Yes. I grew up with an enormous dislike (a downright hatred) of both Germans and Russians, for obvious reasons, but am over it now. This hatred was instilled in me by my parents and others in early childhood. It lasted well into my teens- it was very strong and robust in adolescence- but I've gotten over it as an adult. I'm long past it now.
Does my Grandmother forgive them? I honestly don't know. I never asked her. But I wouldn't be surprised if she said "No, never".