War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 45

Chapter 19

L

otte’s only solace was that she and Irmhild were assigned to the same barracks. The

Aufseherin

, as the guards were called, yelled into the barracks and an emaciated woman with a dead look in her eyes hurried to the entrance.

“Get these prisoners accommodated and have them attend roll call in ten minutes,” the

Aufseherin

shouted.

“Yes, ma’am,” the bald woman answered and motioned for Lotte and Irmhild to follow her.

Upon entering the dim building, Lotte held her nose at the disgusting stench of human excrement, sickness, and death. Bile rose in her throat, but she only imagined the punishment should she vomit all over herself, so she swallowed it down.

Bunk beds, three tiers high and barely five feet in length, lined the walls of the six large rooms inside the barracks. All of the rooms connected via a narrow hallway. The bald woman introduced herself as Verena and led them to a bunk bed.

“Welcome to hell on earth. Your bed is up there.” She pointed to the top bed. “We always put the newcomers on the top because they’re still strong enough to climb up.” Then she shuffled to another bunk, grabbed a blanket, and handed it to Irmhild. “You’re lucky, the owner died last night. You can have her blanket. Take good care of it. It will be your most precious belonging when winter sets in.”

Irmhild made to climb the bunk without the assistance of a ladder while Lotte waited for the woman to assign her a bed too.

Verena gave a dry cough. “When you’re ready, I’ll show you the facilities.”

“And me?” Lotte asked.

“You?”

“Where do I sleep?”

She pointed a finger. “Up there, with your friend.”

Lotte swallowed hard and sank onto the bottom bunk. The bare straw mattress filled with wood shavings scratched her legs.

I guess we won’t get a bed sheet either.

At least I’ll share with Irmhild and not some stranger

.

Irmhild climbed down again, her eyes full of fear and disgust. Lotte grabbed her hand and whispered, “As long as we’re together, it’s not half as bad.”

Verena led them to the stinky latrine at the end of the barracks, a room with nothing but a dozen toilet bowls.

“You can use them during the assigned times, but never at night because the doors are shut. There will be pails by the entrance to each room in case of an emergency. Now hurry, or you’ll be late for the roll call, and if that happens, everyone gets into trouble.”

Lotte’s stomach growled viciously.

“You never get used to the hunger,” Verena murmured.

After having been forced to parade naked past the lewd SS men only hours ago, goosebumps rose on her skin as Lotte marched back the same way. She grazed her fingers across the scratchy material of her prisoner’s uniform to make sure it was still there, protecting her against the awful glances violating her modesty.

Thousands and thousands of women poured onto the assembly place, each looking more ghostly and emaciated than the next one. The realization that she would soon look like the rest hit her like a hammer. A picture of human misery.

Dear God, what have I done?

Suddenly the idea of letting Hans kiss her didn’t seem so bad anymore.

Every woman seemed to have an exact place to stand, except for the newcomers. Within her few hours in the camp, Lotte had already learned to never hesitate even for a split-second before carrying out an order from the guards. When the newcomers were yelled at to gather in the front rows, she sprinted forward to take her assigned place.

The roll call lasted for an eternity, and Lotte fought with fatigue, hunger, and cramping legs, but she neither staggered nor moved. Not until a man who was introduced as the doctor in charge ordered all the newcomers to undress.

The sun had long set behind the trees looming over the prison wall reminiscent of an outside world, and the temperature had fallen considerably. Lotte neatly folded her prisoner dress and laid it at her feet the way she’d been told. Once she was finished, she stood erect, looking into the distance, beyond the prison walls. All the way back to Aunt Lydia’s farm and her cozy, warm bed with the down blanket and the soft pillow.

The doctor, a nurse in tow, walked down the long line of women, stopping every few feet to utter a few words. When he reached Lotte, he glanced at her for a moment, and the nurse read from her list. “German. Seventeen. Social reintegration.”

“Ammunition factory,” the doctor said.

Despite the debasing situation, Lotte managed to hold her head high. She didn’t even flinch when the woman next to her fell to the ground, and a guard rushed over, beating her with a baton until she crawled into place again.

“

Untauglich

. Block 7,” the doctor said, and the nurse dutifully jotted it down.

Unfit? What does that mean?

Lotte thought.

After hours of debilitating roll call, they were ordered to dress again and report in the morning to their line of work. Just as Lotte was sure her knees would buckle, it was finally time for dinner.

She hadn’t expected whole milk, cheese, and bacon that were the norm at Aunt Lydia’s, but what she received was far worse than she could ever have imagined. Fifty grams of bread and a watery soup with half a potato for each woman. The only abundant thing was smelly water to drink. Nothing that came close to soothing the hunger gnawing at her gut.

Back in their barracks, she learned that Irmhild had been assigned the same work.

“Ammunition factory? Lucky you,” Verena said. “They treat the prisoners comparatively well. And as long as you’re fit to work you have a chance to survive the daily selections.”

Unfit,

the doctor had said.

Block 7

. “What does Block 7 mean?” Lotte blurted out.

“It’s the barracks for those who are too weak or sick to work. Once there, you never return,” Verena answered with a hard voice.

“How long have you been here?” Lotte whispered.

A painful expression crossed Verena’s face. “Years. I’ve been in other camps before, but this one is by far the worst.”

With the woman’s words ringing in her head, Lotte climbed up to her bunk. There, she held Irmhild tight before both of them fell into a coma-like sleep.