Alina's eyes flickered. She squeezed them tighter, trying to have the exhaustion of the previous day overcome her body and bring back sleep. But light kept splashing on her face. Now the rumble of distant explosions and a two-pitch siren bawl made her stir. She tucked the edges of the papery blanket under her. She knew if she awoke fully the cold would pierce into her body. She would have to sit up, rest her back against the bed's wooden board connecting the slab that three of them lay on, pull her legs up against her thin body, and bury her head down into her arms. There was still time before being woken at 5 am. "Dear Virgin Mary, let me sleep longer," she whispered to herself.
But the flashes of light were getting brighter and the explosions louder. The ground shook the barracks after each flash. Alina got up and stepped out into the narrow aisle separating rows of bunks. Her best friend Lola was at a window.
"The Allies are bombing. It's getting close," Lola said.
The two watched the landscaped brighten. Outlines of buildings broke through the flames. The Natzweiler-Struthof stalag was being hit and Alina's subcamp was only a few kilometers away. The bombs marched toward Alina's barracks. She and Lola pulled each other closer. By now, all forty women in the barracks were up. Soft cries could be heard, women stumbling and falling. Someone yelled that the barracks door was open, and the crowd pushed there. Alina and Lola still watched from the window. Standing behind them was Felix, the Nazi guard of that barracks. The man seemed in a trance; his eyes lit by nearby explosions.
A bomb hit at the end of the barracks and windows shattered. Felix pushed the two women aside and began climbing through the broken window as flames rolled down the barrack's wooden siding. Alina reached for Felix and grabbed the back of his overcoat. Lola held Alina's other hand. As another explosion landed and the three tumbled out the window, they got up and ran. Alina kept an eye on Felix. The three headed toward the trees by garbage dump away from the barracks. Other women and guards from the camp gathered there. Most of the women covered their heads and closed their eyes. The guards moved more slowly, watching the explosions tear through the camp then crouching down here and there when the explosions got close. Nearly all were older men, not physically fit enough to fight at the front, pressed into service for duty at slave labor camps. Few had imagined they would watch over female foreign workers from Slavic countries assembling ammunition for the Nazi war machine. It was easy duty and perks were available. The women would do most anything for a little more food.
Fires crackled through the barracks complex. No attempt was made to control its spread. The women welcomed the heat but the metallic, chemical stink from exploded bombs had them pitching their noses. Looking between the standing guards, bodies could be seen amid the rubble. It was early December; snow had not yet fallen. As the heat and light faded, and the bombers had passed, the guards turned around and faced the women. One ordered three guards to check the bodies. It was expected they would only help a wounded guard.
"And collect any blankets on the ground to give what there is to the Fremdarbeiter," said a ranking guard. "We don't need any more dead, stiff bodies because of the cold."
Lola caught one of the blankets being tossed. She wrapped it around Alina and her as they squatted on the ground. The soil had yet to freeze but still cold to lay upon. The other women that escaped the fire and bombs eventually sat down, leaning against each other. Darkness held off the head count so if they could, some fell asleep. No one talked.
Smoke from the destruction held back the coming dawn from completely spreading over the land. Still, it was light enough to count the women. They were ordered to form lines according to barracks number. As they obeyed, they could see that half of the subcamp had been destroyed. Of the thirty barracks only ten still stood, seemingly untouched. The area farthest from Alina and Lola's barracks held piles of debris where embers occasionally fared.
The number of women assembled indicated to those still alive that many had died in the bombing. Occasionally, a frantic call for help and fading moan could be heard. Two guards went down each line barking at each woman for their barrack's number. It was a slow process. Any woman too emotional or confused about what had happened to quickly give her number got the butt of a rifle into her stomach. It took a few hours for the guards to record the number of women assembled.
"We are done," announced the camp's commandant. "We will divide you into groups to go through the destroyed area to find bodies. You will drag the bodies to the center of the compound for burial. What shovels and picks we have left will be given to you, otherwise you will use your hands or anything you can find to dig the hole for mass burial. If you find mattresses or blankets still useable, pile them in a spot to be later found later.
"If you find someone still alive, notify the nearest guard. If they are a wounded worker for the Reich yet unable to walk, they will be shot. Wounded guards will be cared for. When all the bodies are buried, you will be fed."
Alina and Lola hoped all the bodies they find would be dead.
The guards led small groups to the smoldering ruins. The putrid, musky stench of burning flesh was no longer contained by the fire. The women passively resisted where they could, wanting any time possible for the area to cool down. They only had a part of their prison dress to protect their hands from the fire-scorched bodies. Only arms and legs could be grabbed. None of the women had hair. All slave laborers had their heads shaved to control lice.
Shoes offered little protection from the hot soil. They had the shoes they had when abducted, or wooden clogs given to them at the camp. Alina wore clogs. She lost one shoe when shoved into the back of a truck after the Nazis grabbed her off the street. She had made the mistake of not taking the alleyways in search of eggs for her mother that morning. Every day since, she prayed someone had found the note she scribbled and dropped to the ground while waiting for the truck and given it to her mother.
The guards didn't care who went into the hot area to get bodies. Alina nodded to Lola that she would find the bodies and pull them away from the wreckage. Lola would drag the bodies to the center of the camp for burial. When all the bodies were cleared from the rubble, the women began to dig and bury the dead. Guards continually yelled at the women as they worked, telling them they were too slow and if they didn't hurry, they would not get food. It was late afternoon when the burial was complete.
The commandant ordered the women to stand in front of two of the ten remaining barracks. Those with kitchen duty had set up tables that held large pots of a watery soup made from turnips and carrots. At the end of the line, each woman received a small chunk of bread. The women crowded up against each other, anxious to eat something. Guards ignored the pushing and shoveling, somewhat delighted to see how far certain women would act to eat ahead of another. Within minutes of the last woman getting her meal, the camp commandant spoke up:
"Now, return your bowls. Schnell! Those whose barracks are still standing will return to them. Those whose barracks haves been destroyed will find another barracks or sleep outside by the dump. Go."
Lola and Alina ran to the last barracks still standing. They figured the closest barrack would fill in fast. They were able to get a bunk.
More. . . .
made me cry