Dawn
By Monnie
Question and answer time! I love it that you guys are interested in actually learning about it. It makes me sooo happy to know that you all are being educated. Seriously. And not in the teacherly way, but in the real way. So, before you all die from a sugar overdose, or my redundancy, a couple of you asked me some questions in your reviews... Talon3, yes, they did wear handkerchiefs on their heads some of the time, but when things got rough enough, a handkerchief was merely a nuisance. But during indoor work and things, yes, they wanted to have something to cover their head. Secondly, anonymous7, rape in some camps, such as Auschwitz-Birkenau, were very uncommon, however, in my research, I found some pretty gruesome details about things that some of the SS did to women – and rape, unfortunately, was one of them – in the main Auschwitz camp. The guys apparently had really bad control over their hormones, and they got hostile if they didn't – well, you know. Thanks for taking an interest in it, both of you. It makes me feel smart ;) I must also give a great big thanks to my friend Jackie, who gave me the first line, so I could start this chapter. You're creative, I swear!
Dedicated to Chris and her not-so-subtle hints. You know who you are, babe ;)
This one's for you… xx
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Chapter Four – Hidden Truths
The fences were high. So high, in fact, that one could hardly see over them. As the two Jewish boys squinted their eyes into the hidden sunlight, something squeaked. It was a floorboard. A misplaced floorboard that made some especially bitter inmates stir. They had to be silent. One held his breath, and stuck his head out the door.
"Where is it?" he whispered, barely speaking.
"Right there," the other whispered back, pointing in the direction of something tiny sitting on the dusty ground. The first man stuck his foot out, and set it silently on the ground. Another foot. Then he stepped forward. Three more steps, and he reached the object. Looking back up, the second man gave him an encouraging wave, and the first picked it up, running back. As soon as his last foot entered the cabin, the crack of a gunshot echoed across the empty grounds, a loud thump followed, and then the breath of relief exhaling from two throats closed in horror.
==
The roll call was never ending. Every woman had to stand at attention, waiting, listening. They knew the work was almost over, but still there they remained. Cold, still, their eyes glazed over. But one woman was not. She had her eyes shut. She was smiling.
She was thinking of her husband.
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The roll call lasted for hours upon hours. Not permitted to move, each and every man had to stand with his legs locked, and his hands at his sides. Hundreds and thousands of people so far around the camp stood this way. They faced forward, robotic, numb. But one man was not. He had his eyes shut. He was smiling.
He was thinking of his wife.
"Michael!" The man next to him pinched the daydreaming captive, and snapped him back to reality.
"Hmm? Oh!" he whispered, and stepped forward, waiting to be inspected like the others. An SS walked past him and circled him, prodding him and checking him like a toy on an assembly line. His heart pounded in his ears, and he stood as still as possible, hoping that the officer wouldn't notice the scratches on his arms. He'd fallen that morning, when Ross, his brother-in-law, knocked into him, sending him sprawling to the ground. Michael's star had fallen off, and Ross, being the braver one, ran out to get it. In running back, he was fired at, as he was out before hours, and they knocked together. Michael's yellow star had an unhealthy habit of falling off while he was working.
The SS checked him off, and Michael let out a breath. There was no safety during inspection. He slinked back into line, and the memories of his wife captured his mind once more. Winter nights by the fire were gone. Summer days at the park were gone. Spring sunrises, autumn sunsets, when they'd sit on the top of the hill, watching the soft yellows and reds fade to embrace the whispering winds of midnight.
Those memories were gone.
But, in Michael's mind, so was she.
==
"Have you made your rounds yet?" Joey asked, walking into the cabin where Chandler lay, his arms folded and his brow furrowed.
"Not yet," he responded, his voice low.
"What's troubling you?"
Chandler sat up. "Nothing – it's – nothing. Don't worry about it. What block are we in charge of again?"
"Twenty-three. You, me, and Kip."
"Well, where is he?"
"Out. I dunno where."
"That guy really makes me mad."
"Yeah…" They sat in silence for a moment, before Joey sat down by Chandler. "You sure you're okay?"
"No – I'm really not. I don't want to be here."
"Me either, but it's a job."
"Why were you employed?"
"My parents sent me. They thought it'd be good 'discipline'. Turns out that it WAS good discipline, but it wasn't me that was receiving it."
"I know what you mean." Chandler sighed.
"Why are YOU in here?"
"My parents sent me, too. But they didn't really want to. I mean, it seemed like it at the time, but, well, my family is entirely German. And the only son in the family that wasn't married was me. So, naturally, when the SS came to our home…"
"Your parents picked you?" Joey asked, nodding.
"Not at first. They were going to deny that there were any bachelors in the family, but they threatened to arrest and kill everyone in the house and all our remaining relatives if someone didn't volunteer. And I did, because I didn't want to force my brothers to leave their wives and children."
"That was awfully noble of you."
"Not really…"
"Oh yeah! If I were you, I would've stayed quiet."
"I was so afraid of coming here, though. I almost jumped off the train that took me here."
"Me too. But, it's not so bad. Where'd you come from?"
"Berlin."
"Huh." Joey looked thoughtful.
"What is it?"
"Kip's from there, too."
"That's – not comforting. But, oh well. Where are you from?"
"Around. I've lived all over Europe. I picked up a bit of Polish, German, French, and I even know a little English."
Chandler raised his eyebrows. "Wow. I've learned Polish and Welsh, but no English. It's so complicated."
"There are a lot of rules, but lots of people are speaking it now, especially since the turn of the war."
"Yeah… I'm glad I got sent here instead of those front lines." Chandler admitted.
"You know, I found out that Kip was going to be, since he's one of the last pure Aryan descendants. They offered him a job in Hitler's bodyguard. He was one of the original Schutzstaffel, which is why he's in this place. Can you believe he CHOSE to be in this dump?"
"Not at all. It's so horrible, watching these people suffer."
"He seems to like it."
"Why doesn't he work in a prison, then? At least the people there DESERVE to be treated this way."
Joey shook his head. "Chandler, when you've seen what I've seen, you'd know that not even THEY deserve to be treated like these people have."
==
"Psst – Mon!" Phoebe whispered loudly, and heard the dull creak of a footstep on wooden floors.
"Yeah?"
"Get into bed! You're going to get yourself KILLED!"
"I forgot my blanket!"
"Hurry! They're making the rounds soon!" Phoebe gestured towards her, and helped her friend into her sleeping berth, before climbing into her own. Rachel had been fast asleep for nearly an hour, but Monica and Phoebe couldn't sleep. Something was keeping them up. Phoebe had claimed it was a sixth sense of a horrible event about to come, but Monica was not so sure. She refused to believe that something more terrible could happen after this.
Three SS officers poured through the front door, flashlights in hand, and swept the bright beam across every bed. Most of the women were asleep, as they had to get up in an hour, but Phoebe and Monica merely pretended, imitating the deep breathing of dreamless slumber. One of them came closer, shining a light directly into Monica's face. She could resist no longer. Opening her eyes, she looked up, a dark figure looming over her like a hawk. The light was so bright that she couldn't see his face, but she knew he couldn't have been very old. His walk was too energetic, too spirited. Another officer strode by, barely looking at the sleeping women, and walked straight out with the first man. She heard their footsteps quicken, then fade, only to be replaced with the closer, more rugged footsteps of the remaining officer. He stopped in the corner of the room, where the three girls lay peacefully, grabbing on to the last remnants of sleep before the workday began. Through her eyelids, Rachel had awoken and seen the light of the flashlight in her face. She let her eyes flutter open, and she was staring back into the bright blue eyes of a genuine Aryan man. He had vivid blonde hair, and his jaw was slightly jutted in a smile. Although, it didn't look like a happy smile…
"Hey there, little one." He whispered, in rough Polish, "have you been to the dentist's yet?"
Rachel shook her head.
"Well then," he continued, "let's go see him, shall we?" He took her gently by the arm, and led her out into the dark, the air closing in around her as she found herself engulfed in the unknown.
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