Chapter 22

We all began to imagine the worst things for us, as well as for the poor inmates who had occupied the cell before us.

"What's going to happen to all of us?" Maria asked.

Suddenly the cell door opened. A large pail of liquid, brown in color, with a ladle in it, was shoved into the cell. together with some metal cups. On a large tray several loaves of dark bread, sliced one inch thick, were piled up and handed to the person standing by the door. It slammed with a bang.

We greeted this bit of generosity with a "whoopee." Kristi poured the brown fluid into our cups. We drank it quickly to quench that first thirst. Each of us received a slice of bread.

Kate, eating it, commented, "This isn't bad for the first meal."

"I wonder what slop will be coming next?" Frances remarked ironically.

Needless to say, we waited a long time again before the watered- down soup on the menu reappeared.

By this time we had already scanned the spotty walls and cracks.

"Oh, no, not bedbugs," protested Stefanie. "Oh, dear, what are we going to do?" she added.

We looked! Continuous lines of swollen mites crept along the sides of the enclosure and over the filthy floor. What to do? Quickly, we took off our shoes. We began to squash the creepy insects, wherever they were. Our goal was to kill as many as possible, but it was no use. They came from somewhere in a never-ending stream. We did the best we could, but we could not stop the invasion.

Some of us started to scratch and itch; we examined each other carefully to see if any of the mites found a comfortable spot, where they could peacefully suck our blood. They continued coming in droves. We, in turn, spent the whole night picking the unwelcome vermin.

With relief we greeted the guard who opened the heavy door of our cell to send us to the jailyard for our morning coffee. Of course, it was not the coffee we were used to. The bread was the same as the day before, chewy, black and heavy-textured. After we gulped down our unappetizing breakfast, we heard a command: "All the American women line up in two's at the gate."

"What for?" asked Ela in a low voice.

"Ruhe! [Silence!]" came the order. We waited impatiently for an hour.

At last a guard shouted, "Prisoners, follow me."

Like obedient sheep, we followed him. About twenty feet away stood a closed van with no windows and no seats. Along the way tarried a small group of people. I paid no attention to them.

From their midst I heard the sweet voice of my younger daughter. "Mamma, Mamma." The words resounded in my ears. I turned in the direction of the voice. I noticed she motioned to me. My heart gladdened! "I have your warm coat and the leather bag with good bread and a kilogram of sausage," she shouted at the top of her voice. She pushed the people out of her way and quickly handed me the coat and the bag. As she now walked alongside us, she whispered, "Irene is here also. Her boss let her off to see you, but the guards forbade us to make any scene, not even to embrace you. Mother, we love you and hope to see you soon again." Tears filled her beautiful eyes and tears filled mine. My heart was heavy.

All this time the convoy of thirty women moved two by two on to the van.

"Halt!" commanded the guard. We stopped in front of the vehicle. "Schnell [Fast]," he shouted at us.