The Girl in the Blue Beret - Bobbie Ann Mason [106]
Annette sighed heavily.
“There were so many of us in our block that we had to form alliances to allocate resources, to protect each other. My mother and I had formed a close attachment to the three Frenchwomen with us at Fresnes, and we were all of a sympathy as women. We slept so close together that we were each other’s blankets and pillows. There was so little food that to save your life you had to steal; to save your humanity you had to share. I must emphasize that although we were in an enfer, there was a goodness in the women who helped each other. This goodness was our survival.
“Each day Maman said we were going to remain brave.
“Then a group of the most able-bodied of us were transferred to Torgau to make ammunition, but many of us refused. The Geneva convention forbade us to make ammunition. So in retaliation we were sent to another work Kommando in Koenigsberg. Torgau and Koenigsberg were satellites of Ravensbrück. Ravensbrück was Heinrich Himmler’s baby! His pet project, you might say. He would sell the women’s services to factories all over Germany.”
Once again Annette stopped speaking. She seemed to summon up courage before continuing. “This is difficult,” she said.
“Do you want to wait?”
“No. Please listen.”
Marshall visualized the young girl Annette at his hiding place in Paris. He remembered seeing her as she bent her head to flip her hair forward, positioned a hair ribbon, then lifted her head and tied the ribbon on top. She shook her hair so that it fell into place, her head beribboned like a package. That memory made him ache.
“We were sent to Koenigsberg-sur-Oder, across the border in Occupied Poland, where we leveled an airstrip for the Luftwaffe. The hangars were disguised so the Allies wouldn’t see them from the air. We worked on a plateau, in fierce wind and snow. All I had to wear was a thin cotton dress, no gloves or coat or hat, and it was the coldest winter I had ever known. Oh, but perhaps you think I’m exaggerating. It is no matter. As you want. After the first snow they gave us coats. Some were nice and some were ragged. You can comprehend how they collected such garments. Each morning I stuffed my clothing with the straw from my mattress.
“The appel began each morning outside the barracks at four and then again after work. They had to make sure no one had escaped, and they would call the roll again and again. But there was no guard tower there, for it was too cold to escape. We had to stand still in the cold for the appel. We tried to stand as closely together as possible. During the appel we had to be sure to stand straight. If you weren’t strong enough to work, you might be shot. We don’t know why we weren’t shot. There were five hundred women, half of whom were French. At Ravensbrück where there were so many women, the appel went on for hours. The appel was smaller, so we didn’t have to stand for so long, but sometimes they made us stand naked, and they turned the water hose on us. It was the winter. They made us stand there while the water froze on our bodies.”
“My God, Annette. How did you survive?” Marshall blurted.
She didn’t answer that. “The work Kommando—the airstrip,” she said. “We cut out large blocks of frozen sod and lifted it into wagons that ran on rails. The rails were short, and from time to time we had to move them with our hands and then lift the wagons to fit onto the rails. We were moving the sod from one place to another. We were cows!
“We tried to work crowded together, for warmth. We took turns shielding each other from the wind. We hugged and huddled. As our hands began to freeze, we thrust them into each other’s clothing to thaw. We fashioned a system for keeping our blood warm. We blew warm breath on each other and rubbed each other. If someone began to whimper or fall behind,