War Torn Love (62 page)

             
It gave me an opportunity to let loose just a smidge, lordy I needed it. I had been all backed up with emotions, it proved difficult to hold it all in. I decided to take the first-step. Gazing around at the crop of women all of different ages, young and old, with no real pattern I could detect…why it was we were pick for the
work camp
, and not the concentration camp.  The
futility
and luck of it all washed over me. All the women looked so overwhelming with everything, having all just had their families ripped apart, the sorrow was written in their many faces.

             
I went ahead and introduced myself to the other adult - as my Momma would have if she’d been there - since I was her daughter, then I would do the same.

             
I introduced myself to the other women. I began talking with them most of whom were all now detached from their husbands.

             
The questions were certainly going around. We were all quite curious by what had just happened to us - to the rest of our families. It was clear, for now, we were separated from them. It was clear it was tearing us all up, having to keep going through this.  Was for most of us the worst thing we had had to ever imagine facing? I think it was. This kind of loss, separation could rob us all of a reason to want to go on. None of us I am sure would ever be the same, after going through all this.

             
We all sat around, each sharing our depressing, heartbreaking stories with one another, sharing about our husband, and families, - it all seemed too unbelievable to actually be true. Sadly, it was after hearing so much sorrow narrated from the other women in our thrown together group, it became clear that our story wasn’t anywhere near unique – in fact, we were heart
breaking
normal. These women were made up
of nationalities
from all across Europe, all trying to do their best to hold it all t
ogether, a very difficult task.

             
I was torn what to do, debating with myself. On whether or not, it was such a good idea or not to tell these women the truth. On what I had already learned about the concentration camps - I really was not sure on what to do
going into all this, what would come of it. If I did tell them the truth, was it right to share such evils. When I know there was going to be a great chance that the people that they love will in all likelihood end up perishing in the concentration camp. Oh, God the thought of that got me sick, I ran out the door and threw up on the side of the building.  After I prayed, I searched my soul, and in the end thought it was in fact right thing to do, to let them know the truth of this whole place, one way or the other they were going to find out soon enough, people talk. Anyone of them finding out was just as bad as when I found out. Periodically one or more of us broke down, and began to cry as a whole range of emotions poured out, from deep inside all of us. It was good to be around other women going though the same thing, because we could all understand, and identify with each other’s pain. Together we worked well as a support group. I think we were good for one another. I definitely did not want to be alone right now; I had lost everything I ever loved, other than the girls. Being the only adult right about now would have been a horrible thing.  I think the only true reason I was not even losing it more than I was, my emotions had been slowly been worn down since 1939. I was becoming more and more numb on the inside all the time. I think the only thing getting me though this was my faith, the girls, and promises I made to two people I love very much.

             
What was I going to do without my family, my husband in my life?  If I survived all this, without my family then what next, exactly what kind of life was that going to be anyways. And would we ever get out of here?

             
Some hours later, the other women and children that had been staying here began waltzing on in through the doors.  Suddenly there were all kinds of noise, and clatter emanating from throughout the barrack. The women that walked in all looked completely exhausted, and dirty, and you could see the hunger, and sorrow written on all their face. We all said hello, introducing ourselves.

             
We asked, “Do you all had assigned bunks?”

             
One of the older women came forward and then said, “Oh no sweetie, we just sleep were ever is available each night! Here we had learned only to live from day to day, not expecting anything more. Waking up in the morning here is somewhat of a miracle, or depending on how you look at it, it could also be considered a curse, if you do not know what I mean, soon enough you all sadly will.”

             
After I would be here a while I would sadly discover exactly why they do not claim a bunk each night. Secret was, it would seems that at least every day, at least one or even several members of this barrack end up passing on under such brutal conditions - quite a high percentage of us were lost here. “For all those we lose there are always more that come along to replace them, such as you ladies, we come from all over Europe, it just never stops.” The older woman said, and slumped into a nearby bed

             
The girls and I were each given a metal bowl; the bowls came from someone that had ended up dying here. Everything even the uniforms are recycled over and over again here, absolutely nothing went to waste. About an
hour after the rest of the women had showed up, and we all went, outside and proceeded to wait in line for food, turned out our first time to eat in at least a day-in-a-half. I was so hungry. We were being served by, yet other prisoners of the camp, supervised by gun wielding solders.

             
I was shocked to discover that there was not much food being served to any of us, nothing more than a boiled potato and a bit of the hot water; it was cooked in, placed in our bowl, nothing more. Hardly enough to come close to quell my rumbling stomach, or my thirst. The girls were having a not easy time because they were both still so hungry after. I told them both to eat their potatoes as slowly as possible, savoring each and every bite, we needed to trick our stomachs into thinking they were fuller than they were.
             
             
             
             

             
When it came time to sleep, the girls wanted to sleep in the same bunk along side of me - I was able to get one bunk next to me, to help. It was the only way I could get either of them to go to sleep, and stop them from crying, it was at bedtime that they ended up, both missed their parents the most of all. My niece kept asking for both her parents, and Abeila cried for her Daddy. There had only been two nights in her entire life that her Poppa had not tucked her in. Both were too young to truly understand what was going on.

             
I told them, “Girls if you stop crying, I will tell you both a really good bedtime story! Would you like that?”

             
“You will auntie?”

             
There were a couple others nearby kids that had been within
ear
shot
of us, of hearing me telling the girls a bedtime story; these wide-eyed kids looked at me with such joy. They too listened in, with excitement, and enjoyment. With such an audience, I created all kinds of voices for the different characters of my story! This became a tradition that ended up happening every night, more kids showed up each night. I guess it made me feel a bit better as well. Seeing how it was bringing pleasure to these kids, I guess I to look forward to this time each night - it was nice having something to look forward to in all this misery, and suffering another lousy day. They sometimes requested the very story I had told from the night before.

             
In our camp come to discover that, we were building artillery shells. They liked the Jews performing the most dangerous task, rather than jeopardizing a single German life in such a job, for such mundane things.  Just in case, there is any sort of accident. Or, a bombing from American bombers might hit the factory. Of course, they didn’t know about us. A month earlier there was an explosion killing more than two-hundred Jews.

             
Abelia and my niece were thankfully small enough that the Germans at least deemed them too young for actual manual labor, but they did not get off so scot-free. They had to quietly sit next to where I worked all day, hour after hour. They got so bored; there was nothing I could do for them.  Nevertheless, being we were being fed so little, the girls did not had much energy, to move about. They ended up sleeping through much of the time I worked. They were old enough to know that if they acted up while I was
working, this would surely spell doom for us, and God forbid they could be sent away to a very bad place. They had learned this from a very young age.

             
The soldiers were always watching us, making sure that we were always working hard. In a twelve-hour day, we were only given two short breaks during the whole day to go the bathroom. No lunch was given to us. It was must difficult for the girls. By the time I finally got to go the bathroom, I was seeing yellow.

             
One day, months after we moved to the camp, I got a painfully hard que
stion to try to answer honestly
it honestly broke my heart. It happened when my niece out of the blue asked me when I was putting her down for the night.

             
“Auntie will I see Mommy and Daddy again, did they get sent to that bad place I heard the women talking about? Is that why they have not come back?”

             
How exactly was I supposed to respond to that, I had to lie to her, I had to give her a small measure of hope, something to look forward too. I could not take about the only remaining thing that she had left to her in the world. I told her, “one day you shall see your Momma and Poppa. They were just sent to a different work camp than us is all! But remember mommy wanted me to watch you while she was away, now come here and let me give you a kiss.” Without saying a thing back, she just upped and wrapped her arms around me and held on tightly, I put my own arms around her.

             
I hated having to do that, I did not want to have to lie to her, but I could not break her young heart now. I think God would understand my deception.

             
It seemed like all we did in this place was either work or sleep, with nothing in-between. Being that we were slowly being starved we never had any spare energy. Then the few hours we had to ourselves each day, inside our barrack, without the guards watching us, breathing down our throats, proved pleasant. The only sanity coming in the entire day, so we tried making it a rule to leave all the badness of the world on the other side of the doors, we used this time to pray, especially for strength to be able to get through all this. We also used the time to sing, carry on conversations, or just rest up.

             
While the women would get together, and talk, acting as support groups. We met and prayed every morning, and in the evening. We were determined not to let them take our faith from us as well. The children would play. It was so good seeing them having a little fun. The sleeping situation was absolutely deplorable, it was so cramped, there was so many of us clumped together in such a tiny spot! It was cold, and the benches from which we slept were quite hard, quite hard and unforgiving on my poor sore back.

             
The Nazis were only kind enough that they only supplied one wood burning stove to heat the whole building; I think the only thing that kept us remotely warm during the cold nights was all the accumulated body heat.  There seems to always be a cold draft. The worst was not having my husband lying next to me, curling his body
around mine, and keeping me warm. I thought of him so frequently at night, I prayed that he and the rest of the family were all-
ok
and sent to a different
work camp
. I also cried for my Marym, and the rest of the family I knew are gone. I hoped that all their deaths were fast, if they had to go. I could not think of any of them having to suffer too much, I just hoped they went quickly if they ended up perishing. I usually ended up crying every night, as my thoughts always turned to them. I tried always waiting until the girls were fast asleep first, before I would silently cry with the palm of my hand over my mouth.