War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 340

Chapter 7

Voronezh, September 1945

B

y the end of summer rumors of release ran wild once again, when an official Soviet delegation arrived to inspect the camp. The party official from Moscow held a lengthy speech about the benefits and advantages of communism and closed with the words, “

Skoro domoi!”

Home soon.

Karsten’s warning lingering in his mind, Johann held his hopes in check. But the next day another delegation arrived, consisting of three doctors. All prisoners, even the sick ones, were ordered into the courtyard.

Helmut groaned. “Not a physical examination again.”

Johann had gotten used to the monthly examination. The prisoners even joked about what they called

Arschkneifen

, pinching your ass. It seemed to be the state-of-the-art method by which the Russian doctors determined whether a man was able to work or not.

The chief doctor explained that the weakest prisoners would be sent home first, with the others following after a short time. Johann felt dizzy. For the first time since being captured, hope sparked to life in his soul.

“They’re making a list. They’re really sending us home,” he whispered.

Helmut nodded. “Let’s hope we’re weak enough.”

Johann glanced at Helmut; whose condition had deteriorated considerably over the past month. He’d caught a nasty infection and had been excused from work for the past two weeks. Then his gaze wandered to the man in front of him. Karsten.

He hadn’t seen Karsten since he’d been transferred to the camp hospital. The emaciated man swayed more than he stood, covered from head to toe in red blisters oozing pus.

Helmut followed Johann’s glance and murmured, “He’ll be on the list for sure.”

“Did you know that he recently completed his fourth year in captivity?”

“Poor man. He really deserves to go home.”

“We all do.” Johann doubted that God had some kind of master plan, but if He did, Johann was sure he’d paid his dues for past sins more than once already. He’d never been intentionally cruel, had avoided participating in the killing of civilians and had basically done what every soldier did: fight for his country and obey orders.

This woman in China, the Jewess who’d helped him, she had sowed a seed of doubt in his heart. And with every atrocity committed in this war, Johann couldn’t help but remember her and wonder about Hitler’s words. Was the Jewish race really the root of all evil? Should they all be exterminated?

Deep down in his heart, Johann had known all along that it was wrong to condemn an entire race, but he’d let stubbornness and fear keep him from acting. Was the horrible captivity his punishment for being a coward?

Helmut and Karsten

made it onto the “Homegoer List,” but Johann didn’t. With his newfound hope shattered into a million pieces, for days he moped around, refusing to speak a single word. At first, Helmut tried to cheer him up, but Johann couldn’t stand to look at his best friend.

You’re going home and leaving me here. To die alone.

The one person who’d been his pillar in this bleak world would now leave. He didn’t begrudge Helmut the opportunity to return home, because how could he? But he hated the thought of being left behind. And he hated the pitying look in Helmut’s eyes. Pity mixed with a sense of guilt.

“We’ll get on the next transport, for sure.” Gerd sidled up to Johann on the walk from the lumber mill to the camp.

“If you say so…” Johann didn’t wish to discuss his shattered hopes with anyone, not even with a commiserating soul. For a short few hours, he had basked in the glow of hope. But the announcement of the results of the medical examination had been like a hammer blow to his spirit.

Three days passed and he still felt like hovering outside his mistreated body. He would cry if he had liquid to spare. Or scream if he had energy. But he only toiled and trudged, breathed and slept, ate and drank, unable to fight his way back into life.

“You can’t give up now,” Gerd insisted. “We’ve survived so much. Just hold on a little bit longer.”

“How much longer?” Johann stared at the man with empty eyes.

“It won’t be long. Once the first transport is gone…”

“It’s been three days and they’re still here. What if it’s another ruse to keep up our morale?”

Gerd’s eyes flashed with fear, but only for a moment. “If it is, it sure didn’t help to boost your morale.” Then he slowed his step, falling behind.

Johann felt remorse over his snide comment but welcomed the silence. If only everyone would leave him alone. He was done with this life.

Several weeks passed and nothing happened. The

Heimkehrer

, the homegoers, lived in a constant maelstrom of conflicting emotions, hope quickly washed away by anguish. Joy faded into sadness. Out of two hundred men destined for the transport fifteen died in the first week. New lists were made, successors chosen.

Other men improved in health – and were kicked off the list, Helmut being one of them.

October passed, then November and still nobody had left the camp. Johann’s state of mind didn’t improve. He didn’t bemoan his fate anymore but had fallen into a dull resignation. Nothing and no one were capable of making him

feel

. He slurped his soup in the same resigned way he shuffled his feet. There truly wasn’t a spirit left inside the shell of his body.

He had stopped caring and might as well be dead already. Not even the floggings from the guards could tear him out of his nothingness. The dwindling daylight as fall approached pushed him even deeper into depression.

One day shortly after the arrival of the New Year, Karsten approached him, looking clean and tidy in new clothes. “Hey, I came to say goodbye.”

“Bye.” Johann looked the other way.

“They allowed us a bath, poured that disgusting delousing powder over us and even gave us new clothes.”

“Good for you.” Johann wanted to walk away, but Karsten put a hand on his arm.

“Don’t make it harder than it is. This is only the beginning and soon you’ll all be on your way home.”

“If I live long enough…”

Karsten grinned. “I survived this hellish camp and the half dozen others before for more than four years. And so will you. But that’s not the reason I came. Your girl’s from Berlin, right?”

“Yes.” A spark ignited in Johann’s chest. Since the day of the list announcement he had pushed away thoughts of Lotte, because it was too painful to think of her. But now he couldn’t keep burying his head in the sand, and the image of her sweet face returned with a vengeance.

He knew exactly what she’d say to him.

You’re a pathetic weakling! You’re willing to give up your life and me, simply because you weren’t amongst the two hundred sickest men of the camp? It’s about time you stopped moping around and fought back. I’m waiting for you and you’d better do everything in your power to return to my side!

“Did you hear me?”

Johann blinked, Lotte’s sweet voice fading away to be replaced by Karsten’s.

“Did you even hear what I said?” Karsten asked again.

“Sorry, no.”

“I said I can take a letter for you.”

“A letter?” Johann’s brain worked excruciatingly slowly these days. “Letters are forbidden.” The Soviets were paranoid about the written word and the entire camp, including the prisoners, were searched on a regular basis for hidden diaries. Getting paper and pen was next to impossible, but some men still managed to do so and found joy and sanity in writing down their experiences.

Over the course of the past year, the other men had started relaying their own cruel, sad, funny, or simply mundane anecdotes to the committed writers. It was a desperate effort to be remembered, to let the world know about the horrible things they had to endure.

“So is organizing food,” Karsten said with a grin.

“Right. But dying at work is forbidden, too, and men still do it.”

“See?” Karsten handed him a tiny smudged piece of thick paper that had been a flour sack in its previous life and a pen.

“Thanks. When are you leaving?”

Karsten scoffed. “Soon… or so the Soviets say.”

Even Johann had to smile.

Skoro

was one of the words most used by the officials, along with

kaput

. While

skoro

translated to soon, it could mean any time span between now and never. “Well, then, I should hurry up. See you at bedtime.”

“See you.”

Johann poured all his love into the letter for Lotte. Due to having only a tiny scrap of paper at his disposal, he designed the letter first in his head, before he committed it to paper.

Beloved Darling,

I hope this letter finds you well. They are releasing the first prisoners and I hope to follow soon. Rest assured that my love for you grows stronger every day. The promise of holding you in my arms once again is what keeps me fighting to survive.

Forever yours,

Johann

The simple act

of getting his thoughts together and writing the letter somehow infused him with the strength to overcome his depression and have a more positive outlook on the future again. His captivity wouldn’t last forever. He just had to hold on a bit longer. And then he could restart his life with Lotte by his side.

A life devoid of war, fighting, bombs, hunger, pain, thirst, cold, beatings, bug bites, sores, distrust, fear, sickness, slave labor, raw hands, nostalgia, and misery. In short, a life worth living.

He rummaged in his pockets and found what he’d been looking for: a soft piece of wood he’d worked on for endless hours with a spoon, making it resemble a doll. In the evening he sought Karsten. The sick man had been released from the hospital but had not been declared fit to work.

“Thanks so much for doing this. Here’s my letter and a gift for my girl. How will you send it?”

“I’ll find out when I’m in Germany. I still don’t believe they’ll really let me go after such a long time.”

“Our country has changed,” Johann said and squinted at the man who’d become a good friend. “When was the last time you visited?”

“August 1940.”

Johann paused for a moment. Back then, before the constant air raids, Germany had been beautiful. “It’s nothing like that anymore. When I was on furlough the last time, Munich was a heap of rubble. And it was considered one of the least badly destroyed cities.”

Karsten swallowed. “My wife was pregnant when I left. I don’t even know…” Tears sprang to his eyes and he couldn’t finish the sentence. The prisoners avoided the expression of emotions at all costs, because sadness was contagious. Johann swiveled his head, pretending he’d heard something.

Meanwhile, Karsten regained his composure and said in an offhand remark, “You guys will need to fabricate lamps for winter.”

“I know.” Johann was glad the conversation had reached steady ground again. “Heinrich has already tasked us with organizing tin cans.”

“He’s a good one. Quite the ingenious engineer.” It was true; Heinrich could repair anything under the sun and used the most mundane spare parts to build small wonders of technology.

As more and more men returned to the barracks, getting ready for the night, Johann impressed Lotte’s address and her official name upon Karsten. “Don’t forget it, will you?”

“I won’t. I promise to deliver this letter dead or alive.” Karsten chuckled and patted the precious cargo.

“What if they confiscate it?” A shiver snaked up Johann’s spine.

“In that case, I’ll personally deliver the message. I’ll tell her that you’re very much in love and keeping your chin up.”

“Thank you again. I wish you good luck. Greet Germany for me!”