The Road to Liberation: Trials and Triumphs of WWII

by Marion Kummerow

  “A golden ring.”

  “Pah…it’s probably brass.”

  “It’s real gold with a small diamond. It was my engagement ring and my fiancé paid three months’ salary for it.” Rachel was trembling inside as she made the story up. “It’s all yours if you let me pass into the Star Camp.” She prayed he’d bite. If she had misjudged him, he might force her to give the ring to him and shoot her to show his gratitude.

  “Where is it?”

  “Not here. Safely buried.”

  The guard eyed her and seemed to consider what to do. “Come back at midnight. Don’t approach me if I’m not alone. Now go,” he hissed as another guard appeared stepped out of the watch post and asked, “What’s the bitch want?”

  “Begging for food,” he said, swinging his truncheon at Rachel, who quickly moved back into the shadows.

  She stayed hidden nearby, until complete darkness had settled over the camp. Then she removed the ring from her toe and pressed it deep into her pocket and waited until she could approach the guard again.

  27

  Typhus was wreaking havoc in the orphans’ barracks. Several of the children had died the previous night and more were seriously ill. In an effort to break the chain of contagion, Mother Brinkmann changed the sleeping arrangements, cordoning off part of the barracks and telling the uninfected children that they were no longer allowed to talk with the others.

  Mindel had a slight cough and a running nose like most everyone in the camp, but apart from that – and the itching, biting lice – she didn’t feel any worse than normal. “What is contagious?” she asked.

  “It’s when someone is sick with something and everyone else catches the disease if they get close to them,” Sandy explained, and after a glance at Mindel’s confused face, added, “For example a cold. When one person gets a cold, suddenly everyone has it. That’s contagious.”

  “Only typhus is much graver than a cold and most people won’t recover,” Mother Brinkmann added before heading back to check on the sick children.

  Mindel thought about the explanations for a minute, trying to process the information, before she asked, “Is hunger a contagious disease, too?”

  “Why would you think that?” Sandy said.

  “Because everyone living here is hungry.”

  Some children laughed. “Hunger and typhus aren’t the same thing.”

  “Why not? Fear and hate are contagious, aren’t they?”

  The laughing stopped and Michael asked, “Where do you get those strange ideas from?”

  Mindel paused for a moment, frowning. “It’s just if one child is afraid, soon after we all are.”

  “Fear and hate are contagious, Mindel. I wish it wasn’t that way, but it is.” Mother Brinkmann had returned. “Hate is a disease worse than typhus and the very reason why so many of our people are killed. First the Nazis feared us, then they blamed us for whatever problems there were in Germany and once they started hating us, it was the beginning of what we’re experiencing now.”

  Mindel nodded, although she didn’t completely grasp the meaning of Mother Brinkmann’s explanations. But she wouldn’t think for long about that issue, since she yearned for clarification of so many other things she didn’t understand.

  The infirmary, above all. Over the last few weeks she’d watched person after person removed from their barracks and hauled off to the infirmary. She watched them go there, but never saw anyone return.

  She waited until Mother Brinkmann busied herself patching up torn clothes, sidled up to her and asked, “Are you keeping the sick kids here so that they won’t disappear?”

  “Disappear? What do you mean?”

  “Well, sick people go to the infirmary, but no one ever comes back from there. Is that why you are keeping our children here?”

  “Oh, Mindel,” Mother Brinkmann said and patted Mindel’s head without giving an answer. Another annoying adult habit. They always resorted to this when they didn’t want to answer a question. Either because they tried to hide the fact that they had no idea, or because they thought Mindel was too young to know the truth.

  Mother Brinkmann turned around and said, “Time to go to bed. Everyone get into your bunks and I’ll tell you another story of Fluff.”

  Even the children who hadn’t caught typhus were too starved and tired to protest and climbed into their bunks. Lately, Mindel felt like all she did was sleep or lie around dreaming. Even after the harsh winter had passed and the weather had become warmer, the children rarely ventured outside and never played tag or hide-and-seek like they used to last summer.

  She huddled in her bunk that she shared with five other girls, eager to hear another story about Fluff. It was a comforting, predictable part of their existence and Mindel hugged Paula close as she listened. Why couldn’t all day be as nice and peaceful as those minutes when Fluff helped them escape into a better world?

  28

  Rachel paid the guard with the ring and he let her pass to the Star camp without a problem, but since it was already way past midnight and all the people she saw were either asleep or dead, she decided to find a sheltered spot and wait until morning before she began her search for Mindel.

  In the morning she woke to an unusual bustle in the camp. Even back in the days when the SS had still kept a tight regimen, there had never been such a nervous tension in the air. Something was definitely brewing, but she wouldn’t let herself speculate or be frightened. Whatever it was, she could do nothing to prepare, let alone to prevent it. That much she’d learned in the past year and a half.

  Therefore, she focused on finding Mindel. Much to her surprise, this part of the camp was still somehow organized and at dawn the kitchen workers came carrying soup pots to the barracks. She decided to keep Mindel waiting for a little longer and instead queued up at one of the pots with her mug in hand.

  When it was her turn, the soup handler looked at her warily for a moment, but then shrugged and poured one ladle of soup into her mug. Rachel hurriedly moved away, lest someone ask questions and take the murky, stinking liquid from her. She grabbed some of the wheat from her pockets and threw it into the soup, hoping that both the soup and the wheat would improve by mixing them together, although food was food and she would have eaten almost anything by now.

  She might not go as far as some other women she’d seen cutting off pieces of flesh from the fresh corpses lying around, but certainly wasn’t above eating tree bark, leaves or rain worms.

  What had the Nazis done to them? Reduced them not only to animals, but cannibals. Sometimes she wondered whether it was actually worth it to survive this ghastly hell and if she could ever lead a normal life again.

  Once she’d gobbled down her breakfast and the gnawing in her intestines had eased up a bit, she began asking people for the orphans’ barracks, until a kind woman pointed to the far end of the compound.

  The feeling of trepidation about the long trek grew into full panic, when mere minutes later, SS guards swarmed the camp. For a change they looked like frightened mice instead of showing their usual smug arrogance.

  A sense of urgency gripped Rachel and she hurried through the camp, determined to reach the orphans’ barracks at the far end. She only had three more huts to go when two SS men caught up with her and one yelled, “Hey, you! Assemble in the courtyard.”

  Sheer panic coursed through her veins and she wavered – one moment too long. His truncheon hit her on the shoulder and the awful thud reverberated through her entire body. There was no room for decision-making; she had to obey.

  So, she turned around and shuffled in the opposite direction, putting more distance between herself and the orphans’ barracks with every pained step. For a second, she panicked. She wasn’t supposed to be here. If they were going to do a roll call she’d be found out and the SS would surely kill her.

  Disappointment over having come so close to finding her sister and once again failing at the last moment rushed over her, draining her will to live. When she a
rrived at the courtyard, she barely believed her own eyes: instead of lining up the inmates into orderly rows, the guards herded everyone toward the gates.

  As opposed to earlier times when she’d been transferred, this time there were no lists, no names, and no order. It was all a complete shambles, a last-ditch effort of the Nazis to cover up their crimes.

  She didn’t know what exactly was going on, but the tension grappling the entire camp tied her stomach into knots, and from the guards’ unabated anxiety she gleaned that the Allies were close. Unfortunately for her, they weren’t close enough and together with thousands of Star camp inmates she was marched to the train ramp – again.

  The walk was strenuous and more than once she gazed with longing at the ditch beside the road. To sit down and relax for just a minute seemed like the most wonderful thing on earth, but everyone who succumbed to the yearning was promptly shot.

  There was no train waiting, when the bedraggled group finally reached the train ramp. Rachel flopped down on the ground, thirst gluing her tongue to her gums. She cast a look into the sky, wished for clouds to roll in and the otherwise detested rain to pelt down on her. But there was only a blue sky and a bright, happy April sun shining down on the miserable crowd.

  Anger at the sun erupted in her like a volcano spewing lava, and she shook her fist at the celestial body that looked down onto the earth day after day, unaffected by the horrid human misery, illuminating nature with bright yellow rays, bringing the seedlings to sprout and the flowers to blossom.

  All around her she stared into gaunt and gray faces atop emaciated bodies, each one of them emanating hopelessness and an ocean of despair. One person looked exactly like the next one, indistinguishable skeletons covered by parched skin, except for…Mindel!

  The girl looked as horrid as everyone else, but it was unmistakably her little sister. She was only twenty feet away from her, sitting on the lap of an older girl. Rachel would have cried, but her tears had dried up many months ago.

  “Mindel!” she cried out, even as she struggled to her feet and weaved her way through the crowd.

  29

  Mindel felt as if she were burning up from the inside. Ever since the SS had entered their barracks in the morning and herded everyone out, she’d been feeling awful. In addition, her legs were too short to keep up with the tempo of the group and if it hadn’t been for Sandy, who’d dragged her behind, Mindel would have given up and thrown herself into a ditch.

  The moment they’d reached the train ramp, she flopped onto Sandy’s lap, instantly falling asleep. After the long and agonizing march, where dirt and pebbles had gotten into her shoes, she was so tired, she simply couldn’t keep her eyes open. Her feet were freezing, but the rest of her body was hot.

  “I’m tired,” Mindel whimpered.

  “I know you are.”

  “And thirsty,”

  “Me, too. I’m sure they’ll give us some water soon.”

  Mindel didn’t even bat an eyelid at the blatant lie. When had the SS ever cared about the inmates’ needs? “How much longer we have to wait?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure it won’t take long.”

  Her head fell forward and right before she fell asleep again, she wondered why everyone thought death was such a bad thing. If it meant she wouldn’t be thirsty, hot and aching anymore, she’d rather be dead than sitting in misery on the ramp. At least the dead could roam freely and fly with the angels, playing in the clouds.

  “Mindel!” someone yelled. “Mindel!”

  She didn’t want to wake up, but her brain recognized the voice and she forced her eyes open, scrambling to turn around to see where it was coming from.

  “Rachel?” She saw her sister pushing through the crowd, struggling to get to her.

  “That’s my sister,” she told Sandy. “That’s Rachel!”

  “Mindel! Stay where you are, I’m coming to you,” Rachel hollered. She pushed and shoved but it seemed to take an eternity for her to make her way through. “Almost there!” Rachel shouted, her voice being drowned out by the screeching sound of the train’s brakes as it drove into the station.

  Mindel saw Rachel and how she was swept away by the sea of bodies that somehow had gotten up. She struggled to get away from Sandy, who heaved them both to their feet. “Let me go,”

  “No way. You’ll get hurt.”

  “I need Rachel.”

  “Your sister is almost here.”

  The crowd around them began moving forward and Mindel panicked. She couldn’t lose Rachel again when she’d just found her.

  “Pick me up!” she demanded. From up there she had a much better view and when her sister was only a few steps away, Mindel jumped and launched herself at her. Somehow, she managed to grab hold of Rachel’s arm and held on tight, even as the crowd began to move faster, engulfing them.

  “I found you, my sweet little darling.” Rachel swooped her up in her arms, and kissed her cheek. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  “I missed you so much,” Mindel said, before exhaustion and the strain of living in the camps overwhelmed her little body and she closed her eyes.

  30

  Rachel pressed her sister tight against her chest, as the emotions welled up, shaking her emaciated body. The poor mite in her arms looked so ghastly, crouched over her shoulder light as a feather. Her heartbeat was weak and irregular and she was burning up with a fever, but there was nothing Rachel could do for her, except to hold her.

  When the train came to a full stop, she noticed some passenger carriages among the usual cattle cars. A novelty, since she’d been forced to travel like an animal ever since the Nazis had captured her. As expected, the mass rushed toward the passenger carriages and scuffles broke out as everyone tried to get into the more comfortable compartments.

  Rachel was too weak and handicapped by having Mindel on her shoulder to participate in the rush and resigned herself to travelling once more in the dreaded wagons. Much to her surprise, though, the SS forced the mass back and called for the infirm and women with small children to come forward.

  It took her a moment to realize that she belonged to that group. With Mindel sleeping in her arms, she approached the train and was indeed fortunate enough to get into one of the compartments. As overcrowded and decrepit as they were, it was a far cry from having to travel in the cattle cars.

  Before the train departed, the SS distributed bread, jam and cheese along with some water. Rachel settled in her seat, holding Mindel in her arms, feeding her sips of water and morsels of bread. At intervals, she wiped the sweat from her sister’s forehead, fanning air over her burning body, and holding her close when the fever turned into violent shivers, racking her little frame.

  For hours Mindel would go in and out of consciousness, talking to Rachel each time as if it were the first time she’d seen her. That worried Rachel, but not as much as the way her fever kept spiking. Mindel was so thin and her haunted eyes seemed to belong to an ancient woman instead of a girl of five.

  Rachel was no doctor, but anyone could see that Mindel suffered from the feared typhus, a disease that had wiped out close to a third of the population living at the Bergen-Belsen camp. Not that it had made a difference in the overcrowding, because the Nazis kept dumping trainload after trainload of transferees from other camps into Bergen-Belsen, until this morning, when they’d started herding them out.

  Whoever was the genius behind that erratic plan, Rachel hoped he’d rot in eternal purgatory for what he was doing to them.

  The train moved in spurts and breaks, often standing for hours during an air attack, before it moved again. Mindel hadn’t woken since the night had settled, and the only indication she was still alive was her erratic heartbeat. Rachel grew more desperate with every passing minute, fearing her little sister would die right there in her arms.

  When the train stopped again, she heard droning noises and gunfire, and Rachel wasn’t the only one holding her breath. But she didn’t have to wonder for lo
ng, because through the window she saw low-flying Allied aircraft.

  Luckily, they seemed to be pursuing more important targets than a train full of miserable Jews and flew past them. The journey continued. In the morning she woke with a start when the train stopped once again.

  For hours nothing happened. The first courageous women ventured out and returned with the news that the driver had abandoned the train, leaving it and all of its passengers standing on the open track. Rachel argued with herself whether it was better to stay inside and wait for things to come or to venture out, carrying her sick sister in her arms.

  Her decision process was cut short by shouting and machine-gun fire. Staying inside definitely had become the better option. Peeking out of the window, she spotted tanks approaching – tanks without the Iron Cross.

  Even before Rachel had finished the thought, another woman screamed, “The Americans! The Americans! We’re free!”

  Not much later, Rachel stared into the eyes of a fresh-faced soldier in an American uniform.

  “Ihr seid frei.” His German was heavily accented when he told them they were free. Rachel couldn’t believe her ears at first, but evidence suggested that he was telling the truth and she gave him her brightest smile.

  “Hello. I’m Rachel Epstein, a Jew from Kleindorf in Bavaria.”

  The women stumbled from the train and when it was Rachel’s turn, one of the soldiers peeled Mindel off her shoulder.

  “No, she’s my sister!” Rachel screamed, grabbing Mindel tight.

  The soldier looked slightly confused and explained something she didn’t understand until finally someone translated to her, “He says he just wants to help. You’ll get her right back.”

  Rachel nodded, not having expected so much kindness.

  The soldier looked with unabated horror at the hollow-cheeked child in his arms and when Rachel had joined him on the grass next to the track, he said, “Krank. Arzt.”