Chapter 27

There was a full moon that night. Soft, cushiony clouds dotted the dark blue sky. We never noticed it before in our wandering. We were always in prison by nightfall. A big army truck with many guards arrived at the railroad station to take us somewhere again. The guards helped us climb into the vehicle ... no more prodding with kicks or rifle butts. We were off to another prison. We passed through towns and villages with all the people sound asleep. At last a turn in the road. Soon we stopped at a massive gate. A guard jumped out and pulled the knocker.

In no time the immense gate swung open and the truckload of tired women moved in slowly. The truck stopped. We waited. We now had time to gaze about. Suddenly from nowhere we heard the chimes of a clock ring out a melody. Then it began to strike the hour of our arrival. I held my breath as we counted the beats: one, two, three ... ten, eleven, twelve. It was midnight. The bright moon overhead lit up the surrounding area. We were somewhere in southern Germany, where the fresh, crisp air greeted us. All around us were tall, green trees. In the middle of this greenery stood three white buildings. One of them looked like a castle with round turrets reaching to the red-tiled roof above.

Soon Frances shouted out in fear, "Mercy, this is another prison."

"How so?" asked Joan.

"Well, look at the heavy iron bars at every window," said Frances, pointing.

"Where did you think they were going to take you, to a fancy hotel?" asked Kitty.

It did not surprise me. By now I was accustomed to the fact prisons had bars on windows, if they had windows. Here in a semi-circle stood three white buildings; in the middle was a garden with a cement walk around it. We hoped and dreamed we'd be able to come out of our prison cells to get a glimpse of the beauty outside. This enchanting area, studded with the spacious garden in its center, left us breathless. We, poor souls, hadn't seen anything like it since we were taken away from our homes, nine days ago.

Soon the reception committee appeared: a bevy of nuns, dressed in black with white, starched bibs, collars and cuffs. A guard let the rear end of the truck drop and we jumped off to the ground. Only the one in her sixties was helped. "Line by two's," ordered the guard. We did. "Count off by eight's."

A big, roly-poly, ruddy-faced nun led a group of us ... sixteen in fact ... to the Joseph House. She was our provider, the one who checked to see if everything was in order.

The first column of women followed her into the building. I was pleasantly surprised--how sparkling clean were the floors, the stairs and the banisters. "Oh, here it will be different!" Mary said with relief. We came to a large, clean room, parquet floor, with sixteen neatly made beds, eight on each side of the long room. I was assigned the first bed by the door and, as the nun pointed out the beds to the other fifteen women, I decided to check my bed for bedbugs. Each one of us had a soft, billowy, feather coverlet in a red-checkered slip, a plump pillow, also in the red checkers, on a clean, lily-white sheet over the mattress. Being wary because of our experiences with insects in prisons, I lifted the sheet and carefully examined the mattress.

Suddenly, the roly-poly nun was at my side, yelling, "This is a clean place, everything was given clean and I will not accept your insolence in checking the condition of the beds." She left the room in anger.

We all sheepishly stood by our beds, waiting for the nun's return.

Before long, she came in. "First, you will all take hot showers before you get into the clean beds. Leave your dirty clothes in a pile in the shower room. All will be given clean things in the morning. Under the pillow you will each find a nightgown." She left. There it was--a clean, white gown, long and wide with sleeves to the wrists.

"Well, this will be nice to get into for a change--although it's much too big and wide, but it's better than nothing." We marched to the shower room, which had warm and cold water, a large piece of yellow soap, a wash cloth and a clean towel in each stall. The first shower in ten days; we indulged ourselves generously with soap and water.

"Hurray!" shouted Jean. "I never dreamed that this could happen to us. To have a soft, clean bed, a shower and an oversized nightgown. Boy, will I enjoy my bed tonight!"

"Yes, at least here we'll get better treatment than we had in the other nine days."

Back from the shower, all dressed in our long, white nightgowns, we looked like walking ghosts. The nun again appeared. "Now you will go to the dining room just across the hall for coffee and bread."

"Wow," yelled Mary with delight, "We're going to get something to eat. Unheard of!"

One by one we entered the sparkling clean dining room, where long tables stood with benches alongside them. There was our fat guardian angel. A large, shiny coffee pot stood by, from which she poured a brown liquid into mugs. She handed each a big, thick slice of homemade rye bread with red jam on it.

After this unexpected "feast," we returned to our room with relief, dropped onto our clean beds. Soon we were sound asleep.

Next morning at 8:00, when we entered the large dining room, we saw that we were not alone. Other women were there, all seemingly in good heath, not haggard-looking. All were reasonably well-dressed. On the other hand, we appeared in our freshly washed, but wrinkled, clothes. The resident prisoners made no comments about our appearance. The dining room was full of women, sipping coffee and eating bread with jam.

"Where did you come from?" asked one of them as she approached us.

"We came from Poland," I answered.

"How many days did it take you to get here?" asked another woman.

"Nine days ... and we saw plenty," responded Joan.

Kristi asked, "How long are you here? Are you likewise Americans like us?"

"No, not all of us are Americans. I, for instance, am a British subject and have been here since September, 1939. The Englishwomen are here from France, Vienna, Yugoslavia and Germany. We don't like it here, but it's better here than where we were. Here at least we get something to eat and are protected from the daily harassment of the Nazis."

One internee, who was anxious to be included in our conversation, announced, "You're going to receive food cartons from the International Red Cross; later in the day some clothing, also from the Red Cross."

Not bad, I thought.

After our simple breakfast we lined up in the courtyard, where we had arrived last night. How different it looked in broad daylight. Now I could really see flowers growing in the center; shrubs hugged the white stucco walls of the three buildings. One of them was called "Das Schloss" [the castle]--the one with the turrets. Now I could assess the appearance of our new lodgings. Tall, grayish, white stucco walls, red, corrugated, tiled roofs, and windows, all barred. The walks were clean and there was a freshness to the premises. Except for the barred windows, it was a pretty and orderly place.

We soon found the reason for the barred windows. Before the war, this was an asylum for the feeble-minded. Since the Nazis decided that only the fit should live, the poor inmates quickly disappeared and just a few were left to help with the maintenance of the grounds. Empty, it was turned over to the German authorities. It was used as an internment camp for British and American women from Europe.

First the British were deported here--many of them. At one time the camp held as many as 900 women. From time to time transports of British women to England took place. Those who didn't want to be sent there for lack of family and friends, preferred to remain in the camp.

After the attack on Pearl Harbor, the German authorities began searching the lists of inhabitants all over the European continent for U.S. candidates to be shipped to internment camps. Sometimes, whole families were taken to a family camp near Biberach in Germany.

"Line up," commanded a short, gray-haired, pudgy woman in English with a German accent.

"Who is she?" asked one of the others in line.

"I don't know, but we'll soon find out."

"I'm the secretary to the camp captain. If you have any questions or problems, speak to me first. Mrs. Simpson, your camp captain, is approaching."

Both the camp captain and secretary were senior internees, having arrived in earlier transports. Mrs. Simpson was a small woman with gray hair, a lean face and severe countenance. She was known to be very strict and few internees received much sympathy from her. Many of us would rather go to the Commanding Officer--the German authority of the camp--than go to her.

"Good day. I am Mrs. Simpson, your camp captain. You will find your stay here quite unrestrained, provided you obey the rules of the camp. You will find them placed on the dining room door and you will abide by them. Everyone will be assigned some duty for the week and it will rotate, so that everyone will share in the work evenly.

"When not busy at an appointed chore, the time is yours. You may read. Books are in the secretary's office. These may be taken out for a week at a time.

"Afternoons, two guards have permission to take you out for a two- hour walk in the area. This you must remember. You are counted before and after the walks. Do not try to run or get away. Keep with the group. You will, by disobeying this rule, cause much trouble for the rest of your party. Any questions?"

Few of the women standing in line understood her. Many spoke only Polish. Those who knew English and understood what she said, had no immediate question. We would find out in due time.

After a brief silence, she continued, "I will now distribute International Red Cross parcels. They are yours and you may use the contents in whatever way you choose. Follow me to the cellar."

Thirty excited women assembled in the basement of the "Schloss." The camp captain handed a parcel to each of us. Up to the ceiling, piled high in neat rows, were hundreds of brown, cardboard cartons. We waited for everyone to receive a box and for the dismissal.

Quickly we hurried out with our prizes to our room to see what the parcels held. No one had a knife. We used our fingernails and strength of our hands to tear the lids open. What tasty delights greeted us! The carton included one bar of Nestle's chocolate, a can of powdered milk, Prem, a pound of prunes, cigarettes and Nescafe. Others had a different assortment of goodies: a can of condensed milk, corned beef, raisins and noodles, besides the cigarettes and chocolates.

"Look, a bar of chocolate."

"And I have Prem and cigarettes."

"My box has powdered milk."

"Oh, I have condensed milk. It like it. I'll eat it by the spoonful."

"I have prunes. They'll come in handy here," said Joan.

"You have prunes--but I have raisins. I love them. Here have some," I said. "Gee, this is a pleasant surprise. I never expected to have it so well. Nice, soft, clean beds, a shower, clean clothes, and now this. What a change from the days in transit and those at home. I didn't have any of these things, nor could I buy or barter for them," I said sadly, nodding my head up and down, thinking of our miserable three years in Torun under the Nazis. Our spirits bounded upwards.

"Hurry girls," shouted Mary, "We have to assemble for our work."

"Now where do we store our cartons?" asked Madge. "We don't have any closet space and there aren't any lockers here."

"Well, let's keep the boxes under the beds. That's as safe a place as any," I suggested. So under the beds the cartons went. We rushed out in a hurry.

The women who preceded us in arriving at the camp, swept the long corridor; some were cleaning in the dining room; some followed with dust cloths, and the work was soon done. Our duty, I heard, began the following Monday.

The schedule hung on the dining room door:

Assignment was by rooms. Each one had some work to do. When it was done, we were free to do what we wished.

Usually, the women left the building to stroll along the courtyard, where they met the earlier deportees. Of the many women here, about twenty of them were nuns. All but two were English. They came here, however, from France, Belgium and Holland. Two were American of Polish parentage; both were U.S. citizens.

As we walked around the courtyard, we heard merry laughter among the nuns and internees ... probably sharing some funny school experiences with the women. We were fascinated by this scene and wanted to be a part of the group. We introduced ourselves. I said, "I'm Radzia Niewiarowski"--and waited a second. One of the nuns smiled and offered her name, Sister Ildephonse. We separated from the group and strolled down the path to a stone bench nearby.

"How are you, Sister?" I asked, seeing her slender figure and her thin, delicate features.

"Oh, I'm fine," she replied with hesitation. "But please tell me where you came from. Have you left a family home."

I nodded.

"You are from Poland, I surmise? You see, I'm also Polish. I'm of the Resurrection Order, a Polish Order, and there is one more nun of that religious group here. But you will find many English nuns here. There are a few from France. Just go and talk to them in your free time. Of course, the best time is on the long walks outside the camp."

I had a long conversation with Sister Ildephonse. She explained the various congregations of nuns present. Since I was not order- oriented, I did not know one group from the other. Some of these nuns came from private schools in France, Holland and Belgium, and they were known as teaching nuns. The sisters in hospitals on land occupied by the Nazis remained to serve the wounded soldiers.

I found the nuns very pleasant and full of enthusiasm. They delighted in telling humorous stories from their classrooms. Women flocked around them. Life in Liebenau changed from nervous humdrum to one of hope and trust.

Since Sister Ildephonse was a good listener, I told her my story. Then I said, "Let's talk about you, Sister." I wanted to know how and why she was confined to this prison.

"I was principal of a girl's school in Krakow, Poland. The Germans arrested me and brought me here. I was born in Buffalo, New York."

"By the way, Sister, I was born in Chicago, so we're both native- born Americans, both of us. Sister, I see different kinds of habits worn by nuns here. Where do you worship?"

"Oh, that's a very refreshing thought. You see, we have on the grounds, in one of the buildings called the Schloss--because it really looks like a castle--a very beautiful chapel. You must see it. We nuns take care of it, polishing the floors, dusting the pews and keeping it in tip-top shape."

"Well, thank you, Sister, for the information. I will spread the news of the chapel to the other women. At what time are the services, and may we come to the chapel from the other dormitories without any difficulty?"

"Oh, yes, you may, and the services are at 7:00 a.m. and 8:00 a.m. everyday."

"Thank you for informing me. I have to leave now. Excuse me, please. We are to assemble in the cellar in ten minutes for some coats and other things. Winter is coming and we don't have any warm clothing." Thank her again, I left with a joy in my heart that here in Liebenau Camp we would have sympathetic ears.

In accord with the earlier announcement, all thirty of us waited for the camp captain and her secretary to sort the Red Cross coats and dresses for us. When they were ready and in piles according to sizes, Mrs. Simpson read our names off the list, handed us the items from each pile, checked off what we received, and called the next name. It took about thirty minutes to take care of us.

"My, this coat is long. It fits otherwise. I'll get a pair of scissors from somewhere. I'll cut a strip off the bottom. It's wide, but I can wear it overlapping. Look at the fabric--it's a nice, soft wool. It'll be warm for winter."

"Because of my height, it's a trifle short, but who cares? We're not here to fashion clothes. We will probably stay here until the war ends," said Joan.

Mrs. Simpson listened to our excitement in silence, then remarked, "Hurry, girls, you'll be late for your walk."

At that warning, we picked up our treasures and ran to our room. We did not want to miss this treat of a long walk outside the prison fence. For ten days we were locked up in jails. Now we had this opportunity of going on a hike. We all desired this new experience of seeing the grass grow, as well as feel the warmth of the autumn sun.

This new awareness of being alive and able to commune with nature made me feel as if I had already attained freedom. Walking amid friends, talking to them without fear of reprisal, surveying the beauty of God's land, of the environs, and having a glimpse of Switzerland, the land of freedom, in the distance, all these made me as happy as a child. Everything was exciting. The women were courteous. The German nuns, who kept the camp going, were kind and friendly.

On these walks we also picked up information.

"We have a chapel here," said Beth, an English woman.

"Yes, I know that. Sister Ildephonse told me. She also mentioned the services are daily at 7:00 and 8:00 in the morning. Is there a priest here or does he come from town?" I asked.

"Oh, a nice old man is the pastor over the whole camp. He is really very dear. We all like him," added a nun, who accompanied us on the walk.

"We'll be there tomorrow," said Jane.

"Yes, it will be a relief to be able to go and pray and not fear anything, and give thanks to God for our safe retreat here."

"As we talked, I gazed at the surrounding landscape, the grass, the bushes and the tall trees, still green. We walked through the woods and back again. After a two-hour hike, we returned refreshed and decided that life here wouldn't be so hard.

When we returned, I asked for scissors, a needle and some thread. I wanted to shorten my long coat. Mine was dark green with buttons in front and a big, wide belt, cuffs on the sleeves, and a large enough collar to roll it up to the chin to keep the cold air out. I found the items needed and soon had the coat ready.

Time for supper. Soup and bread, but also time to talk and ask questions of the internees.

"I enjoyed the walk," I said. "The air is so pure here and it is so peaceful, except for the planes flying at night ... then it's scary."

"Oh, we have rules to follow during an air raid. We all go down to the cellar. But first, all our windows have to be screened so that no light seeps outside. Many a time an internee refused to go to the cellar. While we're down there, the guards check the rooms to see if all left and, if anyone remained, she would eventually join us."

The happiest part of the day for us was the daily walk outside the premises of the camp. Here we strolled down the tree-lined paths, past rippling brooks, humming softly songs of yesteryear. The Polish women quietly sang the plaintive songs of prior Polish occupation. As we walked together, spontaneously confiding our secret desires and hopes with our friends, one though--freedom--was in everyone's mind.

These long daily hikes among the trees, past flowered patches in gardens, made life bearable. Spotting a bird in the branches of a tree, which, upon seeing us, would hurriedly soar high up to the sky, showed us how tied down to the earth we were. One guard up front and the other one at the rear.

On several of these walks, we came to a pine woods. To our surprise, from out of the ground, little heads of mushrooms peaked through the pine needles, hundreds of them. Enough for all of us. Luckily, we all carried empty cartons with a rope used as a handle. We never knew what we would find. This time it was mushroom gathering and a specially delicious variety--the rydz--orange agaric. I fell to my knees and began plucking the orange-tinted mushrooms, choosing the smallest heads. I didn't mind that a branch tugged at my coat and hindered my progress, or that an upper branch caresses or slapped my face. My carton was full. But as I looked under the trees, I saw prettier heads ahead, or so I thought. I turned my carton upside down; I moved on all fours, leaving a heap of mushrooms behind me.

I started again; beautifully smelling little heads were ahead of me. Like a soldier crawling on the ground, fearing the enemies bullets, I dragged myself along the ground, twisting the new-found treasures. Finally, the carton was full. Satisfied with my harvest, I slowly picked myself up from the soft bed of pine needles. I brushed them from my knees and coat. I next stretched out to straighten my frame. I looked up at the beautiful, cloud-covered sky. At that moment I forgot about my captivity. I reveled in the beauty of nature and the vast supply of mushrooms picked. I took a deep breath of the pure forest air. I was ready now to join my friends and return with them to the enclosure.

When the mushroom season came to an end, sometimes the guards allowed us to pick fallen apples from the ground in out-of-the-way orchards. But that pleasure also ended when the harvest was over. Now it was just hiking on the paths or on narrow roads. No vehicles ever passed us. The novelty of the walks soon wore off and I stayed on the grounds. The outings on foot continued in fair weather.