Winfred

17

Official Report

British Intelligence

Code: 3986

Kathleen Winfred

Christmas in a Nazi Prison

Von Steubon had still not returned by the time Christmas arrived, and there was no torture on Christmas day. The German officers and guards were partying most of the day, drinking entirely too much and singing raucous carols in the corridors. 

Pirot came in, some time in the evening, looking somewhat flustered as she doled out our evening ration. 

I could tell she was upset, and I asked her if she needed to get away from the noise.

She hesitated. 

From my time spent with Pirot, I could tell that she normally followed the rules, although she rarely seemed happy about them. I could see the struggle in her eyes as she pondered my question.

She eventually nodded, and unlocked my cell, entering and coming to sit next to me on the cot. 

We were both silent for some time, neither of us speaking. I admit it was a bit awkward...that is, it felt strange to be sitting side by side with a Nazi. But somehow...Pirot did not seem truly to be one of them.

She finally admitted that the celebration had grown too much for her and she had gotten a headache from having a bit too much wine earlier in the day. Aside from that, a few Sergeants and Lieutenants had decided that, since she was one of only a few female guards that had come to the party, she was fair game for their flirting and unwelcome advances. 

I nodded sympathetically, listening to her speak. 

She sighed and was silent for a while longer. We sat together, in the cold cell, for a few more moments before Pirot abruptly stood and left.

I felt a sense of loneliness once she left, but it did not last long.

She was soon back with two woolen blankets and Schubert.

She handed the dog to me, saying that she had rescued him from his hiding place under Von Steubon's desk. 

Then she gave me a blanket and wrapped the second around herself. 

We sat together.

We stared at the wall.

I asked her where Von Steubon was, and why he never took Schubert with him.

She responded with the information that he must go and report to his superiors every so often, but said nothing more than that and simply sat there, absentmindedly patting Schubert's head.

Suddenly, without warning, she sniffed, and then she was sobbing, and then her face was in her hands while I looked on, unsure of what to do. 

She told me that if she did not tell anyone she felt she would burst, and then she told me that she did not like her job. She told me she felt evil for her work. She told me she had volunteered as a prison guard out of a feeling of intense patriotism for the German cause, but that that had changed when she had seen the treatment of people in the prisons. 

She sobbed as she told me of watching people shot in other prisons she had worked for. She told me that this particular prison treated prisoners much better than some of the others she had worked at, but she still felt guilty.

She also said that she could not resign, or defect, because they would find her. The Germans did not show mercy even towards their own.

She cried as I put my arm around her and comforted her. Eventually she managed to pull herself together and dry her face.

Then she looked at me and made me promise to tell no one. I agreed, knowing the consequences of such an action. Pirot must have trusted me to tell me and I did not want to betray her trust. I must admit that I also had selfish thoughts, knowing that having a friend on the German side was an advantage for me and my friends.

As she was leaving, I hesitantly called her back. She turned to face me, after checking to make sure that there were still no guards in the corridor.

I asked her why, if she did not agree with the Germans and with their tortures and practices against prisoners, she liked Captain Von Steubon. 

She told me that he was not like the others, before departing quickly, taking her blanket with her but leaving me with Schubert and one of the woolen coverings. 

I petted Schubert, letting him climb into my lap, and wondered what Pirot meant.