By the end of December I think, I was well enough to leave. I was still sore and the bullets are still inside me, but at least I could walk and take care of myself. I knew that with time, I would feel the bullets and the slow process of lead poisoning. Besides that, I was thin because of the lack of food. And that, with time, will surely kill me as well.
A threat came to me through Nancy that another day would kill me. The gas chambers had room for me. Mengele, the doctor who has done experiments, has been seeing me about. Often, we converse in German. He is amazed with my German ("Spoken like a native," he said with that eerie grin of his that always made my neck bristle) as I am with his bizarre experiments (London had information on him, but there wasn't anything about what he was doing originally). He still sends shivers down my back. He nicknamed me "Red" because of my hair and has often told me to shave it because of the ticks, rats and fleas here. I found out that he was right most of the time. The Shadow, the giver of Life and Death here that Nancy petitioned to, doesn't keep a neat camp.
I think it was almost Christmas or New Year's Eve when I left (I wouldn't know because there was no time limit or anything that indicated months, days and moments). As I went out the doorway, Mengele spoke to me for the last time. This time, he was frank with what he said. "Red, don't come back."
All I could do, to return that kind-looking stare, was to turn back and stare down my adversary, someone I knew who would save the children from the gas chambers but still torture them in his own sick way. Shaking my head when he met my glare, I ran out of there for the last time. I wanted to find Nancy, and more important to me, Father. Is he alright? Was there any way to escape this madness?
On my way of Mengele's madhouse, I ran into a guard instead.
He was convinced that I stole something, food most likely. Rifle and my life in his hands, he barked in German, "Strip or die, knave!" I hesitated because of the cold and wind, but when he flipped off the safety latch, I obeyed immediately. He didn't find anything of value, for a heart-shaped locket, dogtags and ring mean nothing to him. The faded gold of the locket didn't appeal to him and I knew that it wouldn't be worth it to give it to the workers to strip. The dogtags just told who I was and what does that mean to him? It was nothing, of course, just that I belong to the U.S. army. At least, of course, I had the proper uniform on and my green triangle in place. It mattered a lot here.
The guard did find it funny that I was turning blue from the cold. He laughed at me, and said, "You speak German, little American spy?" I nodded my head, but I was less concerned about the cold and more about the fact that he knew I was an American spy. Word gets around quickly there at the camp, I'm guessing.
Taking my bundle of clothes, he shoved them in my arms and swiveled me towards a building…a store? Was it the barracks? I had no clue, but he was indicating that I go there. "Go shave…!" he said, his nickname for me, not so endearing and too horrific to write even in the privacy of these quarters. He shoved me in the mud and laughed as I ran naked to the building, still shivering and scared that behind me, he'd shoot true and pierce my heart.
~00~
I came out of that building colder and lighter in the head. My hair was really gone. I couldn't believe that everything else was shaved off as well. I didn't care too much about it at the moment, though. Panic set into me immediately after I came out. By the time I left it was almost night-time and surely a time that prisoners couldn't be out. I wanted Nancy and she was, luckily, out looking for me in this cold weather. She grabbed me as soon as I went around the building. She was dirty with dust and still not saying anything. She just led down some blocks and we went through the door of Block 11, the block where everyone knew that the Germans could use as an experimental building again, just like they used to. This block was also right next to the Black Wall. Fortunately, there were no shootings that night.
Nancy led me down a long, long row of barracks until we reached the back of the building. She climbed up some wooden bunks to reach hers and extended her arm to help me up for I couldn't climb it myself. All I could do was follow her up with her helping hand and curl next to her…it was so cold. We lay that way for a long time, only listening to crying, Death and for the bell that would begin my days at the factory. Four other practically-naked women, half-dead with fatigue and fear, shared our top bunk. That first night I was in Block 11, one of the women in our top bunk died. I could almost feel her soul fly past me, almost mournfully, as if jealous that we were not past our pain yet.
Morning came finally. At dawn, much like I heard every other day I was in the hospital wing, the bell rang. I rolled over in disgust of this obnoxious noise, almost dropping to the ground four, five, maybe six bunks down. I couldn't tell. Nancy grabbed me in time and said in a zombie-like voice, the opposite of her quick actions, "Was that the bell? Are they calling us yet?" I couldn't answer her for I was in a perpetual fear that stabbed my heart and soul.
~00~
I think about four or five months had passed before I was told that, through the rumor mill that usually follows a prison camp, Nancy and I are to be transferred, with other Allied soldiers, to real P.O.W. camps in Germany. Instead we are filling in quotas as medical officers to a stalag, as Nancy told me. It all depended upon everything, but we never knew what we had to do to merit such a reward.
It felt so long ago that she said those words. I only had to be careful that I didn't mention or indicate that I was a non-practicing Jew or even part of the Allied Underground or I could stay in the hellhole forever. I knew, as did everyone else, that anyone even with a drop of blood of Jewish heritage would be treated worse than the others. Those soldiers captured here, especially the Soviet soldiers, keep what their heritage is to themselves and only identify themselves by the number tattooed to their arms, categorized with their triangles otherwise (mostly, I saw green and black ones). There are no names or even ranks, superiority and male versus female. Nobody is an individual here. We are all just a number.
The months were one of survival and constant worry. Nancy was there for me as I was for her in her fear-filled trances. My wounds never healed properly. It hurt every day I up got, hurt when I worked for the German war effort at the factory and hurt when I stood in long roll calls morning and night and when someone next to the block was being shot at the Black Wall. It was an unbearable dreamland, a nightmare I couldn't get out of. The only things that kept me alive was Nancy's unconditional care and love, Father being somewhere around here alive and the dream that I might see Rob again.
It seemed like every morning is just another part of the last day because there is no sense of time or space, just that there is terror around you. And at almost every atrocious morning after the first, I fall down my bunk in midst of my dreams of freedom. The flight down always felt as if I was really free like in my dreams, like I never existed in this place. I knew what Rob felt when he was in the air! Always, always, I felt the swift air soar past me, cold cooling air through my ears, until I hit the ground and rub my knees once again, fully awake and aware of where I am. The nightmare that follows my sweet dreams still goes on, even in the wait for the transport.
One morning, about a month (I think) after the rumors brought some hopeful news that I was being transferred out of here, I snuck out of my block. By then, Nancy and I had been moved out of Block 11 and into Block 5, so it was closer to the fence. Often, I took off on walks and avoided the guards before they took it into their heads that the grounds needed to be checked. On that particular morning, I felt drawn to the fence, the one that divided the women's and men's sections. It was before dawn and the guards usually looked in another direction this time, unaware of a thin shadow that crept through the barren ground. I went along the fence, where so many people have met their end because of the electrical wires. It was before my torturous factory work and roll call. I needed the time to be alone and think about what has happened this past year or so and stay away from the barracks. Crowded places make me miss Father more because it was the warmth of the house we shared. If only I could see him again! I would give up everything else.
The barbed fence that divided the men's and women's side held a lone figure that looked as if he was waiting for his dismal daily ration of food. I narrowed my eyes for a clearer view of the poor soul. It was Father! I walked as quickly as I could and reached carefully to touch his thin arm through the wires. He touched me back and a voice broke the moment of hope: "Achtung, achtung! What are you doing –?" I felt insulted by this name they gave us and again, I do not bother to write it because of its humiliation.
We both said nothing. I knew what would happen if I tried anything, especially talking back and throwing my temper about. It was a habit that I had to break here. I had forgotten the last time I felt anger and a rage.
I looked to Father, who I knew wanted to stop me from doing this reckless behavior. Instead I saw that he had tears running down his face. He knew that he could do nothing for me. All he said to me, as the guards came running towards us, was "Remember the power of the light child…see you at the transport." Then he disappeared as the guards on the other side shoved him and yelled in German that he was to spend the rest of today in solitary confinement. The guards on my side, however, were displeased with me but I received a much lighter punishment. No portion of food for me today. Plus, I had to spend the night at the factory, on hard labor. Of course, it was better than being killed or being at the Black Wall. I didn't care. I had seen Father and he was alive. The next night after roll call, however, was the night I knew we were moving to a transport and then to a stalag, I believed. The extra night at the factory was going to be hard indeed.
~00~
The next night finally came. Nancy, myself and other female soldiers leaving, a lot of them detained nurses like us, have gotten clothes and whatever was left of our belongings and packed in the fury of joy in departing. I stayed in my disguise from the mission, still dirty, ripped and bloody and only stored under my shirt my dogtags, locket and ring. I would not miss that place. I didn't think that anyone would.
The last act of being here was horrid. Next to the guards doing roll call were men from the other camps, people coming with us. Father was among them because he is a Soviet soldier. He appeared sickly, his striped uniform hanging on him like a scarecrow. Then, my thoughts suddenly turned to that morning upon seeing him. It was highly unlucky that we were called names the day before. What if the Shadow here actually heard the guards and believed it? What if Father and I couldn't reach the transport because they figured us out as Jews? We wouldn't be able to survive here afterward. The gas chambers have plenty of room for us.
Translating for Nancy (she still doesn't understand German despite being taught, again, at our meager lunch breaks at the factory), the head guard explained who was to go and stay. "All army personal are to be transported to prison camps this night! Those with the serial numbers shall leave. All Juden and liars will be shot! Numbers…will go now to the blocks and back here! Move, on the double!" The head guard called out a series of army serial numbers and then the other guards released the dogs to get us moving. Nancy and I were called with eight other female Allied personal. Us and ten male personal were going. It's all that matters. We're all going together from this nightmare with Father included.
Nancy and I ran back to Block 5, for the last time, and grabbed our things. Envious faces looked at us when we got back from the blocks. Afterward, we boarded the cattle car that was outside the gate of the female part of the camp (Work shall make you free, it was said in my mind once more) and waited in suspension, not knowing what was going to happen next.
Father was in the same cattle car Nancy and I were in. The three of us stayed together and never spoke a word. Father was very sick and did not collapse from his illness until we were out of sight of the guards. He couldn't speak of what had happened, either in the days he was in Auschwitz or from yesterday's punishment. I knew it took a great effort for him to stand in line for the Nazi at Auschwitz. It made him worse to even try to run to the cattle cars and not be shot or viciously bitten by those dogs.
Father even was so quiet that I thought he had died. I wouldn't let him go. Not even if he died I wouldn't let him go, they can't pry him away from me! Yet, he still hung on to life, I could make that out. But he could have died, oh, he could have!
About four days into the journey, the train had reached a deserted town. I think it was Halle, a long way from Poland. Father was transported to Stalag 10's nearby hospital, hopefully to stay there and recuperate. He was taken from our cattle car as I slept. Nancy knew that I wouldn't permit him to go if I was awake. She did assure me that he was safe as I awoke colder and without Father next to me. "We can contact him later," Nancy said briskly, overstating the obvious. "Or, somehow if he escapes, we can commerce with him." I hoped and prayed that Nancy was right this time. I did wish that he will escape soon.
Our journey to a prison camp took longer. I think in two days we stopped in Hammelburg, Germany. I had no idea, for there were no windows that indicated day and night. However, we were the last ones to stop. No others were on board with us except those who died on the journey out and who were stiff corpses. They were going to be thrown into a mass grave at our last stop. I counted three deceased and all of them were females. The other five were dumped to Stalags 4, 9 and 16, respectively. I was sure that we were going to follow them, but the guards held us back. Obviously, Nancy and I had some value.
Upon arriving at our last destination, Nancy and I were immediately herded into a car with the Gestapo troops that were waiting for someone – us. We had an army of them guarding us as we weakly walked to the car that they indicated we go into. We were heading to Stalag 13 for interrogation by the Gestapo for being Underground agents and spies, as we were charged. Alive, we stay at a prison camp full of men and fill in their quota of women. Execution is a strong direction for us. We were to be as dead as those three women who died in the cattle cars, being buried in nameless graves as they are.
According to the guards around us, it was May 4, 1943: a day I will remember forever.