Between Two Oceans - Book 2

Chapter 4

- Blaine -

September 1941

The cold I felt at that moment had nothing to do with the frost that covered the ground. Icy fingers that surrounded my heart with a breath of despair. I quickly chased him away as we set off, guided by flashlights.

I looked at the smoke we were all spitting out of our mouths. Once again, I imagined myself elsewhere. I was in a dragon's den. He was snoring. I was afraid, but as my grandfather said "no courage without fear", so I continued to move forward through the darkness until I found that spark of hope, the hope of one day seeing the light again.

We don't really have time to stay lost in thought for long here. Very quickly, reality reminded me of it. One of our comrades, exhausted from the transport, kept falling, even when two other women put her arms over their shoulders to support her.

And then it was Josianne's turn. She hadn't said a word since we arrived, but she seemed strong enough to last until camp. She fell like a mass and neither I nor Elisheba had the strength to pick her up. An SS man, accompanied by the German woman who I have now renamed "BullHead" came out of nowhere. BullHead pulled on Josianne's hair and yelled "entstehen". I was told later that it meant "get up", but Josianne didn't have the strength. She could barely keep her eyes open. Then the SS kicked her in the stomach, followed by many others while BullHead flogged her legs with his riding crop.

When I wanted to go help her, I received a blow to the face with a whip which threw me backwards, making me fall on my back. Elisheba was quick to help me up and back into line.

"You're taking her or she dies here." the SS told me with a smirk when they got tired of beating her.

I was smaller and weaker than Josianne, but I would have preferred to die with her in the cold night than to leave her there without helping her. Not without difficulty, Elisheba and I lifted her up with the help of another lady who did not lack strength.

Josianne was in a bad state. Her legs were full of cuts that ran down to her feet and she complained several times that her stomach was hurting, but I couldn't do anything while we were on the move. To stop meant to stop living.

I don't think the journey was very long, maybe three or four kilometers, but in our state it was like climbing the Mont Blanc.

We crossed a large surrounding wall which the night made even more gloomy than it is during the day. There were sentries, weapons in hand, on all sides and barbed wire all along. Large spotlights illuminated a central courtyard where we were made again to line up in a row of five. The bright light hurt our eyes after several days locked in darkness and this night walk, but no one said a word. And we stayed like that, standing in the cold, with nothing but what we carried on our backs, all night. Woe to the one who tried to sit up or fainted.

"The sun is going to rise, we're going to have to make room." said the SS man who had beaten Josianne and who seemed to be the only one with scraps of French.

Make room for what ? I asked myself.

The sky was still black and I couldn't see the blue-orange colors of dawn, what time could it be ?

A new order was issued in German and the few who understood the language seemed unsure of what they had just heard. The others looked at each other stupidly.

"ENTKLEIDEN SICH, SCHWEINE !" shouted a soldier, hitting the first woman who appeared in front of him.

A murmur of terror rose but fell just as quickly when another SS man began to beat an old lady.