by Kit Sergeant
She focused her mind once again on the house in Somerset and her daughters playing underneath the willow tree. They were wearing the dresses Odette had made them in her imagination the day before. She had spent a long time carefully picking out the fabrics for each girl, and then mentally made her own patterns, cut the fabric, and sewed them. She had spent hours envisioning each step, even down to threading the machine needle.
“Did you wash your hands for tea?” she asked her girls.
Marianne shook her head.
“It’s no matter,” Odette replied with a smile. “As long as you are good girls and behave yourselves, you can have your tea. I’ll even give you a biscuit.”
“Oh, thank you, Mummy!” Lily exclaimed.
Odette smiled to herself in the darkness, but her revelry was interrupted by a flood of artificial light as her cell door banged against the wall.
A female voice commanded her to stand.
“I cannot,” Odette replied, indicating her skeletal legs.
She was hoisted to her feet by two pairs of strong hands and hauled out of her cell. As they reached the outside door of the Bunker, Odette shielded her eyes from the sun, which stabbed at her swollen pupils. The fresh air felt like icicles puncturing her lungs. She felt herself drop to the ground.
She had the sensation of floating as her eyes tried to adjust. She peeked once at the retreating ground—someone was carrying her. She was deposited in a room, where everything was a metallic gray. She was plopped onto a soft bed, and then there was the pinch of an injection and then nothingness.
Chapter 77
Didi
There were only two ways to leave Ravensbrück. One was “through the chimney,” a camp euphemism for the gas ovens. The other was by going to forced labor camps. Most of the women at Ravensbrück were made to work on site, or at the nearby Siemens plant, but the slave-labor also extended to other locations throughout Germany.
The F Section women—Didi, Yvonne, Violette, Nadine, and Ambroise—were moved to the work camp at a munitions factory in Torgau. It took them three days to get there, packed in cattle wagons, but it was still a sight better than the Appelplatz at Ravensbrück.
During the march to the subcamp, Nadine, the raven-haired SOE woman, seemed likely to fall over. Jeannie, another Frenchwoman who had joined them on their journey from Ravensbrück, took Nadine’s arm to guide her.
As they walked past a long iron fence, they were surprised to see healthy, strong-looking men lined up against it. “It won’t be much longer,” one of them shouted in English. “The Allies are approaching Germany and they’ll be here before you know it! Keep strong!”
Yvonne waved and called out ‘Allo to them as she passed. “POWs,” she told Didi.
Didi’s face relaxed and she also waved to the men, hoping that one day soon Hitler would give up his futile fight and they could all go home.
The factory campus seemed clean enough. Each woman was given their own mattress and a blanket, and they had running water in their barracks. For dinner, they were provided a whole piece of sausage in addition to sauerkraut and fresh bread.
“I think I’m going to like it here,” Yvonne commented.
“You can’t be serious,” Violette fixed her with a hard stare. “This is a munitions factory. They are going to force us to build weapons that will be used against our boys.”
Yvonne stopped chewing, the bread dropping out of her mouth. She picked it up and finished it before replying, “Not even the Nazis can do that.”
“If you refuse, you might get sent back to Ravensbrück,” Didi said aloud, weighing the choice in her mind.
“The war is nearly over. What would it matter if we help make guns that won’t be used?” another woman asked.
“I think they’re bombs,” Jeannie, the Frenchwoman who’d helped Nadine, stated.
“Still, Ravensbrück will be the death of you if you go back,” the other woman refuted.
The rest of the women remained silent as they finished their ample dinner and contemplated their options.
At Appell the next morning, Jeannie announced that she would not work in the munitions sector.
“What was that?” the commandant demanded, looking confused.
Jeannie spoke slowly so her comrades could work out what she was saying. “I’ve heard about your V2 bomb—I worked as an interpreter for your generals in France. I’ve been through a lot, and I’m not going to create weapons that will cause our people to suffer anymore.”
He nodded at the other women, who, with his permission, had brought blankets to wrap around them. “Haven’t I treated you well enough?”
“Better than what many of us have experienced thus far, but our treatment should be that according to the Geneva Convention. We are political prisoners.” Jeannie pointed to the red triangle on her shoulder. “We will pick your potatoes, not make your bombs.”
He seemed aghast and cast his eyes among the line of women. “Do you all feel this way?”
“No,” murmured someone nearby.
“I do,” Didi said, stepping forward.
“Me too.” Yvonne did the same, Violette, Ambroise, and Nadine, her legs looking about to crumple beneath her, followed suit.
His face turned red with anger. “You,” he said, pointing to Jeannie. “Come with me.”
Some of the women were marched off to the factory, while the rest of the SOE women, excluding Nadine, were sent to the vegetable fields. Jeannie had disappeared and Nadine had been taken to the infirmary. Didi worried for both of them, assuming Jeannie would be punished for her outburst. As for Nadine, it was no secret in the slave camps that if you couldn’t work for the Germans, your life was forfeit.
The SOE women spent most of the morning and afternoon picking vegetables and clearing weeds. While Didi was still apprehensive over the fate of her friends, she had to admit it felt good to be out in the fresh fall air—especially since they hadn’t been forced to toil in the ammunition warehouse.
Violette approached Didi mid-afternoon. “Do you remember me?” Violette asked in her cockney accent.
“Of course,” Didi replied. She leaned in to whisper the opening lines of the poem Marks had written for her code:
The life that I have
Is all that I have
And the life that I have
Is yours.
“That’s right,” Violette’s face softened. “How is Leo doing?”
“I’m not sure,” Didi replied. “I haven’t seen him since I left for training at The Drokes.”
“What’s your story?”
Didi looked around, but the attention of the sole guard had been drawn by a female dressed in a skirted SS uniform. Didi gave Violette a quick rundown of all that had happened to her, including the water torture at rue de Saussaises. “I’ve maintained the cover Buckmaster gave me: Jacqueline du Tetre, the clueless Frenchwoman.”
“I think you should tell them you’re an English spy. I’ve never been mistreated and neither have Nadine or Ambroise,” Violette insisted. “I think they’re afraid Britain will avenge us when the war is over.”
Didi, remembering her previous conversation with Yvonne, voiced her disagreement. “I’m going to stick to my cover story of being French. It’s worked for me so far.”
Violette gave her a searching look. “I suppose only one of us has the right idea.” The tone of her voice made it clear she thought it was herself. “Still, if you find a way to escape, will you let me know?”
“Of course,” Didi promised.
About a week after they arrived, Violette arranged to dig alongside Didi during garden work. “I have access to a key for one of the gates,” Violette whispered.
Didi looked around. It was true Torgau was less guarded then Ravensbrück, but it was still risky and one false move could get them all shot. “We should go as soon as possible,” Didi told her.
“No,” Violette replied. “We shouldn’t rush into anything. We have to make sure it’s the ri
ght time and that everything is in place.”
Didi nodded, slightly reluctant, but all the same feeling buoyant over the new plan.
A few days later, Violette contacted Didi again. “Is it time?” Didi asked eagerly.
“No,” Violette said sadly. “Someone overheard me telling Ambroise of our planned escape and informed the guards. Yvonne was in earshot when the guards were discussing it, and knew we’d been given up. I had to throw the key in the creek.”
“The key?” Didi gasped. Both of their gazes landed on the creek, which was swollen with fall rain. “It’s gone?”
Violette held out her hands. “It was the only thing I could think of. They searched me, and then my quarters. When they didn’t find anything, they left. It saved my life.”
“But the key is gone,” Didi repeated, deflated.
“I’m sorry.” The defeat was equally obvious in Violette’s voice.
Chapter 78
Odette
Odette awoke to see a line of women waiting across the infirmary room from her. Most of them were naked, with bloated stomachs and withered breasts, their knees sticking out from their stick legs like turtles on a log. Their gazes were infused with dread; they knew that one casual judgment deeming them unfit for work meant their lives would be in even greater peril.
They X-rayed Odette’s lungs and put drops in her eyes. She was diagnosed with both dysentery, as she had suspected, and scurvy. A nurse gave her a bottle of brown liquid before nodding to a guard, who led Odette out into the sunshine.
On the way back to the Bunker, Odette paused to consider a leaf, its green form lying against the sand. It wavered in the breeze, threatening to blow away. She bent over, seemingly to cough, and picked it up by its fragile stem.
This time when she was shoved back into the black hole that was her cell, she was no longer alone. She had found a friend in her leaf and spent the night pondering all that it had been through. Maybe it had blown all the way from France, moving through the electrified fence with ease, bringing the promise of freedom with it.
When Sühren paid his monthly visit, he informed Odette that her X-ray from the infirmary showed she had tuberculosis.
Odette took a painful breath, guessing such a diagnosis usually resulted in the murder of the inmate. “Can I see these X-rays?”
He frowned, as if actually considering her request. “You are not a doctor. You will not understand what they show.”
Odette kept the plea for her life simple. “Please.”
Sühren was back the next day, a shadow in the bright light of the hall. “You do not, in fact, have tuberculosis. But if your condition does not improve, you will surely die.” Though Odette’s hand was shielding her eyes, she could sense him shift his posture. “You will be moved upstairs as soon as a cell becomes available. There you will have access to sunlight, better food, and exercise.”
“Thank you.”
“That is all.” He saluted her before he left.
Odette went back to contemplating her leaf.
Though she remained in her accustomed crypt for three more weeks, the quantity of her food improved slightly. When she was finally moved to Cell 32, she tried not to think of the previous occupant who—willingly or, most likely, unwillingly—had given up their accommodations for her.
It was indeed better lit upstairs, and, after her eyes stopped burning, she discovered her new lodgings had a window. Upon opening it, she saw she faced the crematorium. Ahh, she thought. That explained the black dust covering the windowsill. A dark cloud of smoke billowed from the chimney across from her, and again Odette’s thoughts went to the former inhabitant of her cell.
When Sühren came next, he didn’t stand in the doorway this time, but took a few steps into the room, holding out his hand in what could almost have been perceived as a conciliatory gesture. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes.”
“Do you wish for anything?”
“No, thank you.”
Odette hadn’t been in her new room for more than a few days when she was awoken by the sound of shouting. She rushed to the window. Though it must have been past midnight, an electric street-light blazed below and she could see three women kneeling in the alleyway outside the crematorium. Odette couldn’t help but think there was something familiar about the way they carried themselves. Sühren stood a few feet away, appearing to read something from a piece of paper. She watched as he dropped the paper, and nodded to a uniformed guard holding a gun. The crack of a shotgun reverberated through the alleyway before it repeated twice more. Though Odette was no longer looking, she surmised the women had been shot in the back of their heads.
After she’d recovered from her shock, she forced herself back to her post at the window, but the only sight was the gray smoke curling from the chimney of the crematorium.
Chapter 79
Didi
Not less than a week after their failed escape attempt, Didi was transferred to Abteroda, a subcamp of Buchenwald. She’d heard a rumor that the other girls from F Section were sent back to Ravensbrück. She had always been considered a loner, but, nonetheless, Didi felt remorse at their disappearance, especially Yvonne and Violette.
In Abertoda, Didi was forced to make parts for BMW’s Messerschmitt airplanes. As her commandant told her, females were preferred as workers because their tinier fingers were more deft at putting together the miniscule engine components.
The food was much worse at Abteroda, and the combination of focusing on her work and having little nourishment to sustain her 12-hour shifts gave Didi a constant headache. Through the blurry haze of staring at the tiny parts, she tried to make yet another escape plan, but the plant and her hut were always surrounded by armed guards.
As she manipulated a screwdriver into an almost-microscopic screw, Didi recalled what Jeannie had said about making German bombs at Torgau. Jeannie, she was sure, had been punished heavily, and the other SOE girls had supposedly been sent off for their protest. This must have been Didi’s penalty for her part—to do exactly what she had refused to: help make planes to drop more bombs on the Allies. Her screwdriver fell to the ground.
“You there, lazy cow!” one of the guards called. “Pick that up.”
“No,” Didi replied.
“No?” He seemed at a loss for words. “Why not?”
“I’m tired. And I no longer want to assist Hitler’s army in its injuries against France.”
It was probably the longest sentence she’d spoken in German so far. But the guard was not going to congratulate her. “If you refuse, then we will shave your head and not give you any food.”
Didi shrugged. “I could use a haircut, and I suppose I could forgo a day or two without your watery soup.”
It was clear the guard had expected her to go back to work. His eyes wide, he stared her down, but Didi refused to be intimidated. The guard motioned for another man. After a few heated words in German, the other man clasped his hand around Didi’s arm and dragged her away.
Half an hour later, Didi was shoved back to her bench, her hair shorn to her scalp. The original guard approached and told her to get back to work.
“No,” she replied.
This time the man shouldered his rifle. “Get back to work or I’ll shoot you.”
His voice was hesitant and Didi wasn’t completely sure he would go through with his threats, but she also wasn’t certain she wanted to test him. It seemed ridiculously fruitless to have survived all that she had, only to die by this anxious imbecile.
She held out her arms as she bent down, her eyes on the man with the rifle. Slowly she reached for the dropped screwdriver and picked it up.
“That’s better,” the guard said, lowering the rifle. “Don’t try that again.”
She stabbed at the screw as he walked away, noting with a slight sense of satisfaction that she’d stripped the metal off of it. If I can’t outright refuse, at least I can sabotage them. She poked the screw into the part without securi
ng it, hoping it was a vital piece of the plane and would give way at the slightest gust of wind.
She carried on this way for the next few days, doing everything she could to hinder the German war effort. Occasionally she was rebuked for her slowness, but she apologized, saying her eyes hurt and that she wasn’t used to such intense work.
“You’re going to be transferred,” the insecure guard with the rifle told her, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
Didi’s hand stumbled for real. Had they figured her out? Though it had given her a sense of accomplishment that she hadn’t felt in a long time, she knew her game had put her at risk. Still, it might have been worth it.
Chapter 80
Odette
Sometimes, when her wardess bothered to remember, Odette was actually allowed to exercise. One day in mid-December, Odette was in the yard outside the Bunker when a woman approached. She was terribly thin and wore no coat, although it was freezing.
Her slight form shoved into Odette as she passed and thrust something into her hand “Chocolat,” she said. “Joyeux Noël.”
“Merci,” Odette replied. The chocolate was no bigger than the tip of her finger, but her heart warmed anyway.
“Nein!” the wardess exclaimed, approaching the prisoners with her whip. “Not on my watch!”
The bearer of chocolate tried to walk away as fast as her gaunt legs would let her. The whip met the woman’s back and she fell to the ground before the wardess turned on Odette.
