Winfred

14

Official Report

British Intelligence

Code: 3986

Kathleen Winfred

Winter came, and with it, the first snow. 

Of course, the Germans didn't plow the roads, or chop the wood. No. Why should they, after all, when they have prisoners to do it for them?

Early every morning, the guards would come around and awaken the prisoners, ordering them up and out into the corridor, where they were made to stand in a line.

After everyone was lined up, we were marched outside and out to the road running up to the prison, where we were handed a shovel and made to shovel the road. We had no coats; we were dressed in nothing but our prison uniform. We were cold. The wind seemed to cut straight through us. 

A few prisoners were frostbitten from the cold, and yet the Germans, in their warm coats and gloves, merely stood by and watched like hawks for the time when one of us grew so exhausted that we collapsed. Then they swooped down and kicked the unfortunate until they rose. 

One girl in our line, one who I did not know, collapsed just as Von Steubon was sighted coming down from the prison to observe the progress on the road. 

I urged her, quietly, to get up. I warned her to rise quickly. I told her Von Steubon was coming. 

She was too cold, too malnourished, to care. I looked at her anxiously. I could tell she was a new transfer, because she bore a number tattooed on her arm. It was not one that matched this prison camp; it was different. She must have been fed even worse than we are, wherever she was, because she was stick-thin and pale.

It had started to snow again.

I looked away, unable to watch, as the guards approached, drawing back their heavily-booted feet and kicking the girl until she whimpered and tears began to fall from her eyes, freezing on her cheeks. One caught her in the face with the toe of his boot and her lip split, bleeding red onto the snow, staining the pure whiteness.

Von Steubon arrived, and held up his hand. The abuse was immediately halted. I found myself looking up, and watching, unable to look away from the scene unfolding before me.

Von Steubon stepped forward. He ordered the girl to get up. It was just that, said firmly. 

"Get up."

She didn't move. Her face was scared, and she closed her eyes. Her hands were stiff before her, frostbitten to the point of not being able to move well. 

Von Steubon repeated himself, yelling harshly this time.

I looked away as the girl finally stood, slowly and shakily. 

Von Steubon glared at her, and stepped forward, gripping her arm, viselike. He forced her to move with him, back in the direction of the prison.

None of us knew what would happen to the girl, but we all knew one thing for sure.

It bloody well wasn't going to be good. 

We were even more subdued then usual as we returned to our work.