The Darkest Canyon

by Roberta Kagan

  “Shut up, swine. Answer more quickly when I call your number next time,” the rapportführer said.

  A woman a little older than the first, who had been standing next to the young prisoner, helped her up. The young girl winced. But she managed to stay standing in the line until the roll call was finished. After it was over, Hilde saw the older woman take the young girl’s arm and help her as they followed the rest of the prisoners to have their morning slice of stale bread and ersatz coffee.

  The guards had breakfast in their own dining room before returning to lead the prisoners away to their work details.

  CHAPTER 19

  That day, Agna, Hilde’s boss, was in a foul mood. Hilde was sure that something had happened in Agna’s personal life to upset her. She was yelling and screaming at the prisoners, whipping them with her whip across their upper arms. A few drops of blood landed on the fabric on her table and that sent Agna into a fit of screaming. “Look what you did. You’ve ruined this perfectly good fabric,” Agna yelled. Then she took her foot and knocked the chair out from under the prisoner. The prisoner hit the floor with a thud.

  “What are all of you looking at?” Agna said to the others, who’d stopped working for a moment to watch. “You have a quota to make. You don’t have time to be watching this. If you don’t make your quota today, I’ll see to it that you don’t eat tonight.”

  The prisoner got up from the floor and sat back down in her chair. Without looking up at Agna, she began sewing as if nothing had happened.

  Hilde just stood back and watched. She was stunned by Agna’s fit of rage. But it got worse that afternoon. One of the girls who had been sewing became ill and vomited on the floor next to her sewing table. Agna was so infuriated that she took her plastic whip and whipped the girl's face until it was covered in blood. Blood splashed the walls and fell on the piles of fabric. The girl began crying and begging for mercy. The more she begged, the more furious Agna became. Agna picked the girl up by her arms and threw her across the room. As she fell, she hit her head on one of the sewing machines. The girl hit the floor with her eyes open, but she was unseeing. A river of blood spilled from the newly made wound in her temple. Eyeing the mess, Agna hollered, “Look what you’ve done. You’ve made a mess of all of these uniforms. Now, who do you think will be responsible for this? Who?”

  There was an uncanny silence in the room, and Hilde knew the girl was dead. Hilde had never had a weak stomach, but between the smell of the prisoners, who were not permitted to bathe often enough, and the dark red blood, Hilde had a physical reaction she couldn’t help. She vomited.

  “Now, you too?” Agna said to Hilde. Her face was red, her fists clenched around her whip and she was clearly furious. “I am going to have to report you. You don’t have the constitution for this job. You’re just not cut out for it. Get out of here, now.”

  Hilde left with her head swimming with worry. She thought of calling Axel, but she didn’t think he had enough influence to help her. Then she thought about Ilsa, who certainly had plenty of high-ranking friends with influence. Yes, I have to go and talk to Ilsa, she thought as she headed straight to the beauty salon. Hilde’s job was at risk; she needed Ilsa’s friendship. Without it, she would surely be sent home. And because she’d quit the factory, she knew they would never take her back. The very idea of being unemployed was terrifying. She had to try to keep this job at Ravensbrück. She quickened her step when she saw two prisoners leaning against the side of a building. One of them was weeping, and the other was holding her in her arms like a baby. Hilde knew that she should go over to the prisoners and tell them to get back to work. But she was too caught up in her own problems and didn’t want to be bothered with the inmates, so she walked by, acting as if she had not seen them.

  There was no way to be certain what Ilsa would do when she would hear what had happened with Agna. She might refuse to help Hilde. Or she might be unable to help her, which Hilde doubted. Because she felt certain that if anyone had the connections to secure Hilde’s job, it would be Ilsa. Hilde knew about all the men Ilsa was dating simultaneously. They were all high-ranking members of the SS. Hilde hoped that Ilsa would be willing to ask one of them to put in a good word for Hilde. If not, Axel was a last resort. And the chances of his being able to help at this point, were slim.

  “Good morning,” Ilsa said from the hairstylist’s chair where she was sitting. “I’m getting my hair finger waved today. This is Anna; she is a wonderful hairstylist.” Ilsa smiled at the woman prisoner, Anna, who kept her eyes on her work as she was carefully finger waving Ilsa’s blonde hair. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Ilsa asked.

  “Agna got mad at me today. I might be sent home,” Hilde said, trying not to sound as desperate as she felt.

  “Oh, Agna!” Ilsa laughed. “She is such a bag of wind. Come here. Sit down. Tell me everything that happened. Then we’ll find a way to fix it, huh?”

  When Ilsa acted this way, Hilde liked her so much. But she had seen that other side of her too, that mean side.

  “Come, sit, sit.” Ilsa indicated a chair. “You”—Ilsa pointed to one of the prisoners—“get my friend a cup of coffee. Sugar, Hilde?”

  “Yes, please,” Hilde said.

  The inmate handed Hilde a cup of hot coffee.

  “Now tell me everything. I think I can help,” Ilsa said.

  “I hope so,” Hilde said, and then she told Ilsa all about her morning in the sewing room. After Hilde finished, Ilsa just shook her head.

  “That Agna, she’s always such a problem. Don’t you worry about a thing, my little butterball. I’ll see to it that you don’t go home. You amuse me far too much to let you go home quite yet.”

  “Thank you, I think?”

  “Of course. Now, why don’t we have someone do something about that brassy blonde in your hair. Gretta, fix my friend Hilde’s hair. Make it lighter. Not such a brassy terrible color.”

  The prisoner named Gretta didn’t look up. She ran over to work on Hilde’s hair.

  “I indulge them,” Ilsa said. “I call them by their names here, in the salon, instead of their numbers. It makes them feel human. But they are still nothing but swine.”

  Hilde smiled, relieved that Ilsa was going to help her.

  “Tonight, let’s have some fun, shall we? We’ll play some games. Let’s bring some prisoners to my room, and we can have some real fun with them. What do you think?” Ilsa said as she stood up and walked over to sit under a dryer.

  “Oh yes, sure.” Hilde said

  “It will be such fun. A little bit like last night, only this will be much better.”

  CHAPTER 20

  That evening, after dinner, Ilsa told Hilde to come to her room.

  “I have some cake for you, my fat, little butterball,” Ilsa said.

  Hilde nodded. She hated this nickname that Ilsa called her.

  “Oh, come on now, don’t be offended. This is affectionate, you know.”

  “I’ll be there,” Hilde said, wondering what Ilsa would call fun.

  When Hilde arrived at Ilsa’s room, Ilsa had two naked, young women standing in the center of the room. Ilsa was walking around them, snapping her whip. Every so often she would crack her whip across one of their breasts. The girls cried out. And the cut was so deep and sharp that it took several minutes for the blood to come flowing to the surface. She was no innocent by any means. She had killed her own mother, but she’d justified killing her as a necessity. Hilde was filled with a mixture of emotions—excitement, fear of being reprimanded, and the thrill of absolute power. Hilde sat down on Ilsa’s bed, feeling woozy. Then Ilsa said, “What’s the matter, Butterball? You don’t like the game? You don’t want to play? Well, don’t you worry because it’s all right. Today, you just watch. It’s only your first time. You will need to become accustomed to the feeling of power that this gives you. Once you do, it will be like air for you. You will need it to live.”

  Hilde nervously watched the spectacle in front of h
er. Ilsa beat the girls until they were masses of blood. Then she took them outside and made them carry two buckets of cold water, which she doused them with.

  “The cold water is more fun in the winter. In the winter, I wet them down, put them outside, and watch them freeze,” Ilsa said to Hilde. “But even though we don’t have the weather, the water gets the blood off of them for now. Anyway.” Then she turned to the girls and forced them to fight with each other. “If you are too gentle I will start beating you both again,” Ilsa said to the prisoners. Then she sat with her back against a rock and watched. Hilde couldn’t believe her eyes. Could they really do this and not get into trouble? She stole a glance at Ilsa, who had pulled her skirt up to her waist and was masturbating furiously as she watched the two young, terrified prisoners. When Ilsa was done, she stood up and straightened her skirt. Then she told the prisoners to kneel on the ground. They did as they were told. One of them could not stop crying. Ilsa pulled the gun from her gun belt and shot them both point blank in the back of the head.

  Hilde crossed her arms around her body. She was shivering with excitement and fear. Can we really do this without any repercussions. We are all powerful, Aryan Valkyries! she thought.

  “Come,” Ilsa said, extending her hand to Hilde to help her get up from where she was sitting.

  Hilde took her hand. It felt like her flesh was burning where it touched Ilsa’s. I never believed in the devil until I met her. She can be mean and hurtful, but she is so intoxicatingly powerful, Hilde thought.

  “Let’s go back to my room. I’m famished. We can eat that cake I brought,” Ilsa said smiling at Hilde, whose face was as pale as winter snow.

  “Cake?” Hilde said in a small voice. “I’m not very hungry.”

  “Trying to trim off a bit of that fat, are we?”

  “Yes,” Hilde said. Then she waited a few minutes before speaking again. “Ilsa, I think I might just go home.”

  “Don’t you dare. Where will you ever find a job that pays you as well as this one?”

  “I don’t know, but I might not be cut out for it.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re new. You’ll be fine in time. And don’t worry about Agna. I’ll help you keep your job.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course, my little butterball. I don’t plan on letting you leave anytime soon. And . . . I have very good news for you.”

  “Oh?”

  “We have a transport coming in tomorrow.”

  “Oh?” Hilde said quietly.

  “And, well . . . didn't you like my pearls?”

  “Yes, they are lovely.”

  “So, when the transport comes in, we can sneak over and take a few pretty trinkets from the huge piles of things that the new prisoners bring with them.”

  “Won’t we get in trouble?”

  “Of course, but only if we get caught.” Ilsa smiled. “And I have no plans of getting caught.” Then she let out a laugh. “The look on your face is priceless. Do I shock you?”

  “A little, yes.”

  “But you would love to have some pretty jewelry, would you not?”

  “Yes, I would. I come from a poor family, and I’ve never had anything as beautiful as those pearls.” Hilde admitted, cheering up.

  “Well, my dear, this is your chance. Hopefully, we’ll get some rich Jew bitches in the transport tomorrow. They bring the loveliest things with them. And when everyone is busy, we can slip over and take one or two pieces. We can’t take a lot because we won’t be able to hide it in our clothes.”

  “I would love to have a nice piece of jewelry.”

  “And you shall. Besides, wait until you see what the new inmates are put through when they arrive. The spoiled Jew bitches, especially. They are brought down from their high horses, that’s for sure. They are forced to have their heads shaved. You should see all that beautiful hair on the floor. And we shave their pubic hair too. They just about die of humiliation when we do that. But, after all, we have to prevent lice, don’t we?”

  “Lice?”

  “Yes, lice. These camps are full of it. You’ll see. We get plenty of Poles here and political bitches, but I would love to get my hands on more Jews. I hate their smug, rich faces. They’re the reason we lost the war, anyway.”

  “Yes, they are . . .” Hilde agreed, cringing inside at the thought of what she would witness the following day.

  In the morning, after roll call, Ilsa found Hilde and whispered in her ear. “Everything is taken care of. Your job is secure once again, Butterball. You’re going to work in the hospital, where you will help Dr. Gebhardt with his rabbits. I can feel safe putting you in there with the doctor because, quite frankly, anyone can see that you are not nearly as pretty as I am. But, of course, you know that, don’t you?” Ilsa pinched Hilde’s cheek as Hilde’s heart sank and her confidence crumbled.

  The next morning, following roll call, Hilde reported to the hospital. She was expecting to work with a pen of experimental rabbits. What she found was that the rabbits were a nickname that had been given to eighty-six young women, all of them in good health, being used as experiments by the doctor. When she saw the deep, unhealed scars on the bodies of the women, Hilde felt sick. The smell of rotting flesh and illness turned her stomach. How was she going to be expected to help the doctor? Was she going to be told to clean the wounds? To wipe the pus? The hospital, like most of Ravensbrück, was a house of horrors.

  CHAPTER 21

  Spring 1940, Berlin

  When Eva Teichmann had first started working for Albert Weber, she had found the bakery in disarray. And for the first six months of her employment, without asking for direction, she took it upon herself to clean and organize everything. Albert was always grateful, spending hours thanking her for all her efforts. He told her how his wife, who had passed away, had always kept things in order at the bakery. Then after she was gone, he found it very difficult.

  “When she died, I was lost,” he said. “She managed everything in our lives, not just the business, but all aspects of our lives. And you know what? I was such a fool when she was alive. Would you believe me if I told you that I never realized how much she did around here, until she was gone? God rest her soul.”

  “I understand,” Eva said. “Don’t worry, we’ll get this place back in order.”

  She could see the gratitude in his face. “I am so glad you came here looking for work. It seems we needed each other. You needed work, and I needed your help.”

  “I’m glad too,” she said.

  And now, as Eva scanned the back room, she sighed with pleasure. It was clean and in perfect order. She no longer had to search for anything. All the supplies and tools had their rightful place.

  The floor was spotless, but Eva picked up the broom and swept anyway. Then she went over to the counter and cut up the cold potatoes she had brought from home and made sandwiches for her and Albert to have for lunch. He had taken to giving her some of his ration cards so that she was able to bring food for the two of them to have lunch every day. It was easier for him than trying to provide his own afternoon meal. Eva didn’t mind. She and Gretchen had started a small vegetable garden in the back of the apartment building, so sometimes she was able to bring fresh vegetables to share with Albert in exchange for all the bread he gave her.

  “What did you bring today?” he asked cheerfully.

  “Cold potatoes and sauerkraut. Is that all right? I tried to get a sausage, but I wasn’t able to find one. I’m sorry. They were all sold out.”

  “Anything you bring is perfect.” Albert winked at her. “Really, I appreciate your preparing food for me every day.”

  Albert Weber was not a handsome man. He’d never been athletic or popular among his peers, either. But none of that mattered to Eva because he was kind and generous. She knew by the way he looked at her that he had fallen in love with her. Sometimes, during the day, as they were working, Albert would glance at her. And from the look in his eyes she could see how much he cared f
or her. Eva was not in love with him, but she cherished their friendship and cared for him. So she did what she could to make him smile. It wasn’t difficult. He didn’t ask for much, only that she take her lunch with him when they had a few moments of quiet at the bakery. Or that she talk with him and laugh at his attempts to joke. Albert was not demanding. In return for the attention she gave him, he gave Eva extra bread and baked goods to take home to share with her cousin, Gretchen. The more Eva and Albert talked, the more she found she truly enjoyed his company. Once, he asked her how she felt about him, and she told him that she liked him very much. But not in a romantic way. More in the way a sister cares for a brother. Eva knew Albert was disappointed, so she touched his cheek and said, “It’s good . . . what you and I have together. We are best friends. A romance would put that friendship in jeopardy. After all, sometimes, quite often, really, romantic relationships don’t work out. And then where would that leave us? I would have to get another job. It would ruin our beautiful friendship. And I value the friendship too much.”

  He nodded. She could see the hurt and disappointment in his eyes, but then he forced a smile and said, “I’m glad you’re here, Eva, and I wouldn’t ever want to risk losing you. Your presence and your friendship have made me feel alive. After losing my wife, I never thought I would feel this way again.”