Chapter 31

As the war continued over Europe, air raids became more frequent. We were prepared for the worst. Allied planes flew over the campsite by day and at night.

Now this began as an ordinary night. We were asleep in our beds as usual, our clothes and our hosiery neatly folded and placed carefully on the chairs at the foot of our beds. Lined up in orderly fashion beside each bed were our shoes, ready to slip on in case of emergency.

This evening, Minnie didn't feel well and did nor follow her usual custom of tidily arranging her few belongings around her bed. Apparently thinking to herself that this night was not going to be any different from the others, she threw herself on the creaking bed and removed her false teeth. "After all, I won't need them till morning," she mumbled sleepily, having no idea of what was to come. She fell asleep promptly.

The sharp gong of the alarm rang out. The guards rushed down the long corridors of our rooms, ordering us to the basement, which served as a bomb shelter for the camp. The women threw their coats over their shoulders, slipped their bare feet into the cold, threadbare shoes as best they could, and shuffled their way through the dimly-lit corridors to the basement.

But not Minnie! She refused to budge--command or no command! In the dark, she groped and pawed through the sheets on her bed, frantically trying to find her teeth. Finally, in desperation, she bellowed, " I'm not going to the cellar, that's for certain. I won't be seen without my teeth. I'd rather be killed with my teeth in, than be alive without them."

One of the inmates, Kristi, who had not left yet, came to her aid. Slowly, she inched her way under the sheets and blankets until she felt something cold and hard lying at the foot of the bed. "Min, here they are," Kristi shouted triumphantly. "Now let's hurry down before the guards notice our absence."

Minnie quickly snatched the teeth from her and placed them in her mouth with a click. "Thank you for finding them," she mumbled gratefully and hurried with her friend to the cellar.

Months passed. Our detention was taking its toll. A young Polish woman of Jewish descent was brought to the Liebenau camp. Her two young children under six years of age were left behind without care. Rumors of atrocities perpetrated on little children in Poland by the Nazis reached the camp and drove Mira hysterical. She shuddered as she imagined the S.S. bashing her children's heads together. Such atrocities as banging heads were not uncommon.

She ran for help to the camp captain, who could in no way help her; to the Commanding Officer, who, although he sympathized with Mira, could offer no help, either. "The S.S. is not under my jurisdiction," he explained. She wrote many letters to the International Red Cross, but their advice was to go to the U.S. on a transport and seek help from there. I don't know whether she took their advice.

My children were still in Warsaw in my sister's care, so I was not worried yet. I didn't know what they were experiencing there. Likewise, the letters and cards were brief. I could only hope nothing unpredictable would happen to them and my family.

In the camp we were always awaiting news. When friendly planes passed overhead, we were hurriedly expedited to the cellar for "our safety."

As we walked about in the courtyard later, talking with our prison mates, we often asked, "How long, how long, are we going to be here, closed up away from our family, friends and country?"

The limited number of library books were soon exhausted; little news from the outside world arrived. The mail we received was censored. It was just routine information that we had.

But sometimes on our daily walk a rumor of yesterday became news today. We questioned that guard as to what the bombers were doing last night, what targets they were looking for. Sometimes, a guard unknowingly let escape the name of a city or locality in his conversation with us. We immediately filled in the missing pieces of the puzzle, hoping that soon more pieces would fall into place.

Anyhow, we knew that even bad news sometimes was good news, because by the slip of the tongue by the Germans, we knew something was happening out there. Although nothing seemed to change, it gave us a big psychological lift.

Here, in the camp, obedience to the rules was greatly stressed--the most important of all being not to separate from the groups on hikes outside the boundaries of the compound. It was so easy and tempting to slip away from the hikers. So, we kept watch on one another so that all returned to our quarters. One English woman attempted escape before our arrival. It must have happened on one of those refreshing hikes in the woods. When the group returned from the walk, the count was taken and one internee was missing. The whole camp was deprived of the hikes for the duration, until the prisoner was found. In the meantime, the search was on for the escapee.

Within a few days, the walks were resumed. No reason was given. The internees questioned the guard as to the whereabouts of the prisoner. He had nothing to say. The English captain and her secretary, upon questioning by some of the English internees, replied, "Oh, she was sent away."

"Where to?" pressed the English women. There was no further reply. They stopped talking or thinking about the whole affair.

The days became long and dreary. Oh, for some excitement! Even the news from the front was bad for our side. Boredom took over. How much longer were we to be kept behind the tall, iron gate? Sometimes, just to do something, a few of the women took the heavy brooms, which stood about, and swept the fallen leaves that covered the walks. Others, with a shovel and short brush of twigs tied together, whisked the leaves onto the shovel and dropped them in a small handcart standing nearby.

In the afternoons the hikers were ready to go for their walk, but now it was routine. Mushroom picking time came and passed. Not so much luck this year. Fewer heads peeped out of the not-so-damp mulch. It rained less; the result was a poor harvest.