“They are doing another selection next door,” Karol said. “Let’s take a walk.”
We walked away from the truck, taking the long way to the administration building, but I glanced back and saw Winkelmann and Nurse Marschall loading women onto one of the windowless black vans. A death transport. Neither of us had to say it: Anyone caught close to that hurricane could have been swept up for no good reason.
As terrifying as some Jules were, Karol may have saved my life that day. Once the danger was over, I thanked her and continued on my way.
I soon passed a long white canvas tent set up for a group of newly arrived prisoners in an open area just off Beauty Road. The camp had become so horribly crowded, and the transports kept coming from all countries. Suhren set up these tents right in the middle of camp. This one was so jam-packed with women and children that they were barely able to sit down under there. Many stood, trying to soothe their babies.
“Kasia,” someone called. I turned, surprised to hear my name.
I didn’t recognize her at first in the shadows under the tent, for her face was drawn and gaunt and her short blond hair gray with dust.
Nadia.
She sat on an old suitcase, and a woman lay next to her with her head in Nadia’s lap. Nadia stroked the woman’s brow and murmured something to her. I watched for a second to make sure it was her and then walked closer to the tent, just out of sight of the Aufseherin.
“Nadia?” I said. Was this a hallucination?
She looked up as if her head was too heavy for her neck.
“Kasia,” she said, her breath a puff of white steam. How beautiful my name sounded when she said it. She put one hand out to stop me from coming closer.
“We just saw a girl dragged away for talking to us. Plus half of us have typhus. Be careful.”
I took a step toward her. What a happy day this was! How quickly could I get her to our block?
“How long have you been here?” I asked quietly, so the guards would not hear.
“We just arrived last night from Auschwitz. They said we are going to the youth camp. There is shelter there.”
“When?”
“I don’t know,” she said, looking down at the woman in her lap. “We’re all so thirsty, and she needs a place to die in peace.”
“Nadia, come quickly. I can hide you.”
“I can’t leave her.”
“Someone else can tend to her.” I stepped closer.
“You don’t recognize her, do you? It’s my mother, Kasia. I would never leave her.”
Mrs. Watroba. How had they been caught?
“Come,” I said. I knew I could hide them both.
“I know what you are thinking, my friend, but I am staying here with my Matka.”
“What can I get for you?”
Binz’s guards began waving prisoners into the truck.
“Nothing. Don’t worry. We’ll all be back in Lublin before you know it. Back with Pietrik. He will be happy to see you.” She said this with a real smile. The old Nadia.
“It’s you he loves,” I said.
“Do you know how many times he asked me if you liked him? Hey—I left the book for you before I went. In the spot. You’ll love chapter five.”
“I think the spot may be long gone, but we’ll both check it together when we get back.”
“Yes.”
Nadia gasped, one fist to her chest, her gaze fixed on my bad leg. One of the mismatched woolen men’s socks I’d traded some of our toothpaste for had slid down to reveal it—by then healed, but withered and shrunken, missing whole tendons and bones, the skin shiny and taut. “My God, Kasia, what happened to your leg?” Water came to her eyes.
To be crying for me while in her situation? This was a good friend.
“I’ll tell you later, but now I can get you a drink—I have a bit of rainwater saved.”
Nadia smiled again. “Always resourceful, Kasia. Matka would love that.”
“I’ll be right back,” I said and set off back to my block.
My leg slowed my progress, and by the time I returned with the water, the guards were loading the last of the prisoners into the open truck. They closed the back gate and banged twice on it, and the truck started off down Beauty Road.
Nadia. It had been like medicine to see her! Would she be safe at the youth camp? I’d never heard of anyone going there from Ravensbrück before. I said a prayer that what I’d heard about the new camp there was true. Was God even listening to prayers from us?
The truck continued down Beauty Road, and tears came to my eyes as I caught a glimpse of Nadia cradling her mother.
“I’ll see you soon, Nadia,” I called, running as best I could after the truck.
She craned her neck above the crowd, smiled, and raised her hand.
I watched the truck rumble off, the red taillights a blur. I wiped the tears away. Were they really going to a safe place? It was hard to believe anything the Germans told us, but no matter what, the Danish girls in the front office said the Russians would be arriving soon to liberate the whole camp. At least Nadia and her mother would have shelter. Nadia was the strongest person I knew.
I hurried on to the administration building to pick up my package, darkness descending on the camp. A family of rats, big as cats, walked across the road ahead of me, no longer afraid of people. I claimed my bundle at the postal window and glanced at the return address: Lublin Postal Center, Lublin, Poland, written in Papa’s hand. I opened it as I walked back down the hallway, my wooden clogs echoing on the polished floor, and pulled out another spool of red thread.
I never tired of seeing that. He’d sent two more since the first. Had Papa gotten word out to the world? If we were to die before the camp was liberated, at least everyone would know what happened, and the Germans would be punished for what they’d done. His packages had helped Zuzanna with her dysentery, but she’d then caught something else going block to block to doctor other prisoners. Headache, chills, fever. From the rash on her arms alone, we both knew what it was: typhus. Nothing but liberation could help with that.
I passed the desk of Brit Christiansen, a Danish girl I knew, one of many Scandinavian prisoners who worked the front office. She was tall with a short blond bob and a pretty constellation of beige moles scattered down her cheek. I’d never even met a Danish person before the camp and now found they were among my favorite people. Gentle. Trustworthy. Kind.
“I have two things to tell you, and we must be quick,” Brit said in a soft voice. “One is an SS man, high up, came today inquiring about your mother.”
“What? Who?”
“Not sure, but he was very tall.”
Lennart! Here at Ravensbrück? Was Matka here too somewhere?
Brit pulled me closer. “And also, they are hunting Rabbits today.”
Those words gave me gooseflesh all over. “But it’s almost dark. A night selection?”
“Binz is on the warpath. Suhren is coming too. They doubled the liquor ration for the guards.”
“We’ll have to hide,” I said.
Could I get Zuzanna under the block? Or Anise could hide us with the Hungarian Jews again. The typhus ward?
“They know you’ve been hiding under the block, Kasia.”
“We’ll go up to the Annex.”
“They know that too. And there are new buses here.”
Buses. A jolt of fear shot through me. There was no time for hysterics.
I hurried back to the block.
An inky blackness settled in around me, for there was no moon that night. The floodlights above clicked on as I ran the best I could despite my bad leg, pushing women aside on the way to my block.
Just don’t feel anything. If you are to live, you cannot feel.
I knew as I entered the block that word of the hunt preceded me, for girls were crying and holding one another. I pushed through women from every country Hitler had plundered, the room a jumble of different languages: Russian, French, Hungarian, Polish. I
found Zuzanna on our bunk, knees to her chest, shaking with chills. She barely lifted her head.
“Have you heard?” I said. I sat next to her on the bunk and stroked her forehead. “They are coming for the Rabbits. You need to get up, my darling.”
Zuzanna opened her eyes and then closed them. “No, Kasia.”
Anise pushed through the crowd, calling my name.
“Get out now, Kasia,” Anise said in her calm way. “They are coming. Binz and Suhren and the woman doctor. The Red Cross already took the Swedish girls, and French girls are being taken next. From the linen shop. I’ll keep the back window open for you.”
“In buses?” I said.
“Yes. Use the number 9284. It’s safe. I could only get one.”
I grabbed her wrist.
“Don’t go, Anise. How do you know it’s not a death transport?”
How many times had we seen them trick women into buses? Some looked like ambulances, with red crosses painted on the sides. We heard them drive around to the little painter’s shack and cut their engines. After that, those prisoners’ clothes would come back to the linen shop, smelling of the sweet, unmistakable odor of gas.
“It’s the Swedish Red Cross, Kasia, the real thing, and you need to hurry.”
“Girls, we have Appell,” said Marzenka, banging a pot with a wooden spoon.
Anise ran out with one last look back.
I pulled Zuzanna by the hand. “We need to—”
“No, Kasia. You go.”
She tried to lie back down on the bunk.
“We need to get under the block,” I said as I pulled her up, held her around the waist, and guided her through the crowd toward the door, her weight light against me, like a dried branch.
Marzenka stood on a dining bench, hoarse from yelling above the din.
“Please. Binz has given me her word no harm will come to any of you.”
That only increased the panic, and many ran for the door, but Binz and her dog appeared there ahead of her Aufseherinnen. Just outside the doorway stood Commandant Suhren and Dr. Oberheuser, she with clipboard in hand. I was close enough to see light snow on the shoulders of Binz’s gray cape. Her dog nipped at Zuzanna’s leg, and we drew back.
“Everyone out here now for Appell,” said Binz. “Disobey orders, and you will be shot.”
Dr. Oberheuser at a block selection? We were trapped with no choice but to comply. No time to get to our hiding place. I pulled up my socks. Would the doctor recognize me?
I supported Zuzanna as we all filed out onto Beauty Road in front of the block and stood at attention in the cool night air, the lights above shining bright. What if we ran? Even if we had good legs to run with, the dogs would finish us. Though it was cold, I felt hot all over. This was it. Why had I not been faster?
Binz and Dr. Oberheuser walked up and down our ranks and checked our numbers. Binz stopped in front of me, crop in hand.
“Roll down your stockings,” she said.
So this was how it was to end.
I rolled down one sock. It revealed my good leg. Binz motioned to Dr. Oberheuser.
The doctor paused.
“Well, Doctor?” Binz said.
I held my breath. The doctor seemed frozen in a dream as she stared at me. Was that hatred or pity? She motioned to my other leg.
“The other one,” Binz said. I rolled my other sock down, over the smooth ridges of indentations where my muscles once were. The doctor must have recognized her handiwork, for she nodded a quick yes to Binz, and they moved on to Zuzanna. Zuzanna looked at me. Be strong, that look said. Next we would go to the wall. Would I be able to be brave like the others and walk down Beauty Road, head held high?
Dr. Oberheuser seemed puzzled by Zuzanna at first, for her scars were not as obvious as others’. Would she let Zuzanna go? Send me to the wall, I prayed. Let my sister live. Let one of us go home to Papa.
The doctor nodded to Binz.
Yes.
Zuzanna took hold of my hand. We’d go to the shooting wall together as we’d always planned, there for each other until the end.
Then something very strange happened.
The lights went out.
Not just the floodlights but also every light in the camp. It was as if the hand of God had come down and drenched us in the kind of velvety black where you can’t see a single thing. Girls called to one another. Suhren, Oberheuser, and Binz barked orders in the darkness. The confused dogs growled. You would not have believed how loud it was in the camp with everyone on Beauty Road, crying and calling out.
“Adelige, sit,” said Binz, her tin training clicker chirping in the darkness.
I grabbed Zuzanna by the waist and pulled her away from the group. Would the lights come back on any second? I felt my way along and brushed Dr. Oberheuser in the darkness. A wave of the terrible perfume she wore washed over us. I stepped on Binz’s foot and felt her arms windmill.
“Verdammtes Arschloch!” she said.
I headed for the linen shop, heart beating out of my chest, guessing the direction in the darkness, one arm around Zuzanna, the other outstretched in front of me like the cowcatcher in front of a train, bumping into people in the darkness. The fire from the crematorium in the distance was not bright enough to illuminate the camp, but I navigated by it. I practically dragged Zuzanna, her full weight against me.
I knew we were in the right area when I saw a bus in front of the linen shop, the vehicle lit from within, the only light in the camp. As we drew closer to the shop building, I heard French girls talking. I felt for the back window and helped Zuzanna climb in, then followed her, pulling my bad leg in with great effort. It was warm in the room, and the crowd smelled good as I pushed through, a mix of perspiration and perfume.
Zuzanna leaned against me. “I can’t go much farther.”
“We are almost there,” I said. “You can rest soon.”
I saw Anise’s friend Claire in the glow of a flashlight.
“Kasia,” she said.
I grabbed her arm. “Binz has us on her list. As soon as the lights come on, Zuzanna and I will be taken.”
“The lights won’t come on tonight,” Claire said. “The Russian girls turned them off. Szura flipped the switch at the transformer station once they heard Suhren was coming for the Rabbits. The whole electrical grid is down, and they’ll not turn it back on until morning.”
“How do you know these buses are really Red Cross?”
“Suhren has been stalling them, but they threatened to ram the gate. The girls in the office said Himmler himself authorized Count Bernadotte of Sweden to take us.”
Elaborate hoaxes had been made up before to get girls to go peacefully, but it was our only chance.
“Anise gave me a number,” I said.
“Make sure you move along,” said Claire. “This is the last bus. Two have already loaded and are waiting at the gate to go.”
I held Zuzanna and pushed through the crowd in the darkness. From the French I’d learned, I could tell the girls were all excited to be going home. As the last of them loaded, there were few left in the shop.
Once I made it to the front of the line, I saw two men stood at the back of the bus checking numbers. One I did not know. The other was fat Winkelmann, dressed in his long leather coat. The rear door of the bus was swung open wide to reveal French girls packed into the bus, standing, waiting. A blond nurse dressed in a white uniform stood inside, helping people up the few steps. If this was a Nazi hoax, it was an elaborate one, but German guards often wore the uniforms of doctors and nurses in order to fool us.
I breathed easier once I told Winkelmann the number Anise had given me and I helped Zuzanna into the bus. When my turn came to step up into the bus, the nurse bent toward me.
I set one foot on the wooden step stool.
Was this really happening? Going home? To Lublin? To Papa…The nurse smiled and reached her hand to me and I took it.
Winkelmann placed his white stick across my chest
.
“Stop. Number?”
The nurse clenched my hand tighter. “Their numbers have all been checked. We don’t have time to argue.” She spoke German but with a Swedish accent. We were going home.
Winkelmann pushed me back with his stick, and the nurse released my hand.
“My orders are French Häftlings only. If this girl is French, I am Charles de Gaulle.”
“I am indeed French,” I said in German. Did he see my legs shaking?
“Yes?” Winkelmann said. “Say something in your native tongue, French girl.”
Without hesitating, I said in the most forceful French I could, “This dryer is too hot. Can you cut a little more off the sides? May I have a permanent wave, please, with medium curl and extra end papers? And use the boar-bristle brush, for it seems to help with my dandruff.”
Winkelmann looked at the other man. “She’s a Pole for sure,” he said.
“Just get on the bus,” the other man said and waved me on.
“We need to move,” said the nurse, pulling me up to join Zuzanna. “Come in quickly.”
As the nurse began to shut the doors, a prisoner ran to the bus with a bundle of clothes. “Wait, your baggage!” she called out, and handed the package up.
“That’s mine,” said sweet Pienotte Poirot, a friend of Anise’s, from the front of the bus. The girls passed the bundle down to her, and her friends drew near.
The bus jerked forward, and we started on our way toward the open gates. Just a short way to freedom.
Please let this be a real hospital bus.
The white pole at the guard station lifted, the bus driver gunned the gas, and we left the gates behind. Why did I not feel the joy of liberation? We made our way down the road along the lake, and Pienotte opened her bundle.
“My God, it is Guy,” said Claire to me. Pienotte opened the blanket to show a tiny newborn, pink and healthy, with a head of dark hair. “He was born two days ago. Thank God he didn’t cry. Smart boy.”
We rumbled down the road, the bus lights showing the way, illuminating the backs of our escorts, three German soldiers on motorcycles.