repeated every month to try and make us feel inferior and dehumanize us, as though the soldiers wanted to prove to the enemy that if we didn’t surrender to Germany, they would continue ill-treating us. Yet we were only enemy ants, hidden three hundred feet underground. We couldn’t serve as an example to anyone. The acts of cruelty they committed toward us showed their frustration at not winning the war as easily as they thought they would.
We believed that certain soldiers made it their mission to think up new forms of torture, just to impress their Führer .
So, once a month, our guards forced us to walk past them naked while they pointed at us and made fun of us. Their loud, coarse laughter still rings in my ears.
Sometimes during this parade, carried out in front of two officers and a group of soldiers, girls had their period. That made them laugh even more. Fortunately, my menstrual cycle had stopped since my arrest (which caused me many problems later on). Be that as it may, it meant one humiliation less for me. Mathilde was our guide and made her recommendations. She told us to hold ourselves very erect and, especially, always look the voyeurs in the eye, without blinking. At the end of this degrading procession, several girls had no strength left to go on. Their distress was so unbearable that we often heard a few of them scream that they wanted to die and needed our help to kill themselves. As for our group of four, it became even more closely knit, and we were convinced we were going to survive. Improbable as it may seem, we were confident and defiant. Our passion for life was so strong that all we wanted to do was spit on every German.
Toward the end of the second year, punishments began to rain on us for anything and everything. A bowl not put back where it belonged, a crooked row at roll call, being a minute late for work; anything was an excuse to penalize us. That might mean a few days of solitary confinement, with or without light, a soup ration only once every four days, or spending time in a cell that was flooded up to your ankles.
Occasionally our guards forced prisoners to punish each other. One day, a Russian woman tried to escape but didn’t succeed. The three inmates who shared her mattress were punished. For two and a half days they had to remain standing, a sanction the soldiers called “the pose.” This was followed by three days of food deprivation. Next, rather than dealing with the fugitive themselves, the guards handed her over to her fellow inmates so they would punish her. Then the girls beat her to death! The Germans really knew all the ways to turn human beings into brutes.
I have also had experiences that were unusual to say the least, especially considering the situation I was in: While busy working one morning, I thought I heard someone speak to me in a hushed voice. The staple machine was making a noise and I couldn’t quite make out where the sound of that voice came from. Anyway, I carried on with my work.
Then, once again, between two pedal strokes, I heard someone whisper beside me. Incredible as it may seem, a young soldier on guard duty was trying to talk to me. This struck me as so unbelievable that at first I thought I wasn’t in my right mind. But on his way back, the soldier slowed down to be closer to my work station. “It’s me talking to you. Hello!” As he walked past me again, he said hello to me once more. This time I knew for sure who was speaking to me. I was stunned, it was beyond all comprehension.
I lowered my eyes as though nothing had happened. I couldn’t answer him; after all, it could be a trick. If I opened my mouth, there would certainly be dreadful consequences. He must have noticed my confusion because he tried to reassure me: “I don’t mean to frighten you. I would just like to chat with you, only if you want to, of course.”
The idea of chatting with a torturer seemed diabolical, so naturally I hesitated. He went on, “I am not who
We believed that certain soldiers made it their mission to think up new forms of torture, just to impress their Führer .
So, once a month, our guards forced us to walk past them naked while they pointed at us and made fun of us. Their loud, coarse laughter still rings in my ears.
Sometimes during this parade, carried out in front of two officers and a group of soldiers, girls had their period. That made them laugh even more. Fortunately, my menstrual cycle had stopped since my arrest (which caused me many problems later on). Be that as it may, it meant one humiliation less for me. Mathilde was our guide and made her recommendations. She told us to hold ourselves very erect and, especially, always look the voyeurs in the eye, without blinking. At the end of this degrading procession, several girls had no strength left to go on. Their distress was so unbearable that we often heard a few of them scream that they wanted to die and needed our help to kill themselves. As for our group of four, it became even more closely knit, and we were convinced we were going to survive. Improbable as it may seem, we were confident and defiant. Our passion for life was so strong that all we wanted to do was spit on every German.
Toward the end of the second year, punishments began to rain on us for anything and everything. A bowl not put back where it belonged, a crooked row at roll call, being a minute late for work; anything was an excuse to penalize us. That might mean a few days of solitary confinement, with or without light, a soup ration only once every four days, or spending time in a cell that was flooded up to your ankles.
Occasionally our guards forced prisoners to punish each other. One day, a Russian woman tried to escape but didn’t succeed. The three inmates who shared her mattress were punished. For two and a half days they had to remain standing, a sanction the soldiers called “the pose.” This was followed by three days of food deprivation. Next, rather than dealing with the fugitive themselves, the guards handed her over to her fellow inmates so they would punish her. Then the girls beat her to death! The Germans really knew all the ways to turn human beings into brutes.
I have also had experiences that were unusual to say the least, especially considering the situation I was in: While busy working one morning, I thought I heard someone speak to me in a hushed voice. The staple machine was making a noise and I couldn’t quite make out where the sound of that voice came from. Anyway, I carried on with my work.
Then, once again, between two pedal strokes, I heard someone whisper beside me. Incredible as it may seem, a young soldier on guard duty was trying to talk to me. This struck me as so unbelievable that at first I thought I wasn’t in my right mind. But on his way back, the soldier slowed down to be closer to my work station. “It’s me talking to you. Hello!” As he walked past me again, he said hello to me once more. This time I knew for sure who was speaking to me. I was stunned, it was beyond all comprehension.
I lowered my eyes as though nothing had happened. I couldn’t answer him; after all, it could be a trick. If I opened my mouth, there would certainly be dreadful consequences. He must have noticed my confusion because he tried to reassure me: “I don’t mean to frighten you. I would just like to chat with you, only if you want to, of course.”
The idea of chatting with a torturer seemed diabolical, so naturally I hesitated. He went on, “I am not who
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