Sabine and Eliza had been deemed ‘fit to walk.’ That was a joke. Nobody was fit here. They were all marching skeletons. Simply putting one foot in front of the other in the hope of surviving.
They were told they were being moved to another camp, but who believed a word they said? As usual the rumours hissed up and down the line of women.
They’re taking us to be shot.
The Russians will find us then we’ll all be raped and murdered.
Everyone left behind is dead, they killed them all.
Sabine was tired and disorientated. In training they’d showed her how to use the position of the sun, the moon, the stars. She couldn’t remember any of it. Couldn’t find the energy to lift her head to look up at the sky, let alone use it to work out which direction she was going in. She didn’t even know what country she was in anymore.
Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step.
.-
-...
-.-.
-..
She ran through her memory exercises, tried to keep her brain active and alert. Tried not to think of the weeping abscess on her leg, of how weak Eliza was, of her hunger.
.
..-.
--.
--.
--.
.-
Everything she’d learnt slipped away from her, she couldn’t retain it. It took all the concentration she had to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Madame.
Alex.
Madame.
Alex.
Madame. Alex. Madame. Alex. Madame. Alex. Madame. Alex. Madame
.
JC JD TM CA DY JC JD TM CA DY JC JD TM CA DY
Sabine woke, sweating. Her hair stuck to her forehead. She felt Eliza next to her, squeezing her, they were both shaking. They lay side by side in the bunk, the thin blanket pulled up over their chins, damp and woolly and covered in lice. It scratched Sabine’s skin, made it break out in a rash. It didn’t keep them all that warm, but they huddled under it all the same. Sabine had an abscess on her leg and the blanket tugged at the open wound, the wool sticking to the raw skin.
‘Ssshhh, are you okay?’
‘Yes, I’m sorry, it was a bad dream.’
Eliza’s hand reached up, brushed across the chain Sabine still wore around her neck.
‘What’s that?’
‘My cross,’ Sabine answered.
‘How did you get that in here?’
‘I hid it on me when I was on the train. I was scared someone would steal it. They didn’t search me all that thoroughly.’
‘That training came in handy then?’
‘I was lucky, if you can call it luck. They’d have found it if they’d looked properly.’
‘They’ve given up doing things properly round here. It’s too crowded, they’ve lost control.’
Sabine didn’t think she could bear it if she lost the cross now. She felt as if she spoke to George when she held it.
George rather than God.
Eliza pulled Sabine in close to her, her legs curled around Sabine’s back and bottom. Sabine felt Eliza’s bare feet, cold against her thighs. Rough skin, brittle toenails, so different from those soft feet she’d massaged back in training.
‘Remember that story your dad told us? About his kilt during the war?’ Sabine said.
‘You’ve never met my dad, darling, he died before we even met.’
‘Oh, of course, sorry. I’m half asleep, thinking of someone else.’
- .... . / -.- .. ... ... / -... ..- .-. -. - / .- --. .- .. -. ... - / .... . .-. / -.-. --- .-.. -.. / ... -.- .. -.
‘Tell me the story.’
‘They wore kilts in the trenches, he would slide a fingernail up each pleat of the kilt and it would come away covered in lice.’
‘Oh, that’s horrible.’ Eliza whispered. Her breath was hot and sticky on the back of Sabine’s neck. It smelt musky and fetid. Neither of them had brushed their teeth in weeks.
And to think she’d thought the men had smelt bad, cooped up in Alex’s hut.
That was nothing compared to here. Hundreds of them to one tap. The water brown and putrid. Their toilet a hole in the ground, you had to wade through excrement to even get close. They were all ill. Most of them never even made it to the hole in the ground. Didn’t even try.
Sabine’s sense of smell had adapted, her nose had got used to the stench. The odours she’d found so offensive when she first arrived. The odours that caught in the back of her throat, made her gag, made her want to step away from people, not get too close, not have them touch her. All that had changed. She was one of them now. She saw the new arrivals grimace and shy away from her.
There was something different about lying here in the dark though, huddled in bunks together, their breath visible in the cold air. She could smell the sweet rot of Eliza’s breath when she spoke, felt it coat the back of her neck.
- .... . / -.- .. ... ... / -... ..- .-. -. - / .- --. .- .. -. ... - / .... . .-. / -.-. --- .-.. -.. / ... -.- .. -.
‘I think you have a story to outdo his now.’ Eliza said.
‘Do you think they’re still sending our letters?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe they’ll tell them the truth now?’
‘I hope not. Mama couldn’t cope with another telegram. You know, I found those notes so hard to write. I ran out of things to say.’
‘There’s only so many times you can say you drove an officer around.’
‘Ssshhhhh, I’m trying to sleep here.’ The woman lying next to Sabine and Eliza spoke up.
Did anyone actually sleep here? It wasn’t possible. Collapse with exhaustion, yes, but sleep?
Mama would always say ‘I’m having a physical collapse,’ whenever she was tired or had a busy day.
Un effondrement physique
.
Father would shake his head, physical collapse, good God woman, stop exaggerating. Sabine barely dozed in here. Kept awake by snoring, moans of pain, other women sobbing in the dark, the movement and creaks of the wooden bunks, the scuttling of rats. It wasn’t sleep. It was the same unconscious feeling she’d had in the cell back in Paris.
‘Your turn,’ Sabine whispered.
They rolled over, Sabine put an arm over Eliza, pulled her close, heard the woman next to them tut.
‘Will you tell your wee boy?’ Sabine whispered in Eliza’s ear. Her lips were crusty, stuck together when she spoke. She tried to lick them but she had no saliva.
‘Tell him what?’
‘Our lice story?’
Sabine felt Eliza tense. She didn’t reply.
‘You will see him again.’
Eliza’s tears dropped warm onto her hand. It still surprised her, how much they could cry in here when they were so dehydrated, wasting away from lack of food and water.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…’
‘SSSHHHH.’
Sabine felt a bony elbow dig into her side. She closed her eyes, cradled Eliza until the bell rang for roll call.
Step. Step.
Step.
Step. Step.
Step.
Step. Step.
Step.
They’d been told to march but it was barely a shuffle. A march was supposed to be regimented, in time, in rhythm. They had marched in training. Rows of them, arms and legs in step, backs straight, heads proud. Polished shoes and spick span uniform.
No, this wasn’t marching. This was a shambles. Women stumbling, tripping, falling, barely able to lift their feet from the ground. No regimentation. They dragged themselves forward.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Sabine and Eliza hadn’t spoken for hours now. No words of encouragement, of hope. Eliza walked with her eyes closed. She was struggling. Her breath stuttered and gasping.
There were less of them now. Even the number of German soldiers seemed to have deteriorated.
Two of them walked to the left of her and Eliza. They whispered to each other.
‘
Aus der traum
.’
Sabine’s shoulders and back ached from standing. It was still dark, the middle of the night when they called them for roll call. Every morning there were less of them. Sabine felt herself sway from side to side, teeth chattering. Black dots fuzzed her eyes. She had to stay alert, remain standing. If she toppled, she would never get up again.
The
Aufseherin
blew her whistle and Sabine felt the women around her relax. She did the same, shuffled closer to Eliza, ready to walk back to the barracks for the brown water the guards called coffee, drunk
from old tin cans like the ones she’d used to bail water out of the Seafox.
Eliza had found a lump of potato in her soup the other day, had tried to share it with Sabine, but Sabine refused. Eliza had been there longer.
Was so much thinner.
TD JF GT DF BT DZ IF IY EO IY EO DY
Madame and her coffee pot warming on the stove. To think Sabine had thought that coffee was bad. That was pure Parisian luxury compared to what they were served here.
JC JD TM CA DY JC JD TM CA DY JC JD TM CA DY
Was Madame still lying on the floor of her kitchen or had someone moved her?
No, she couldn’t think of Madame. Her spirits were low enough already.
Eliza took Sabine’s hand, led her across the camp. The
Aufseherin
had let them away earlier than normal, usually made them stand for hours, swaying and shivering in their rows. She’d already had her fun for the day though. One of the other women had fainted, lain in the mud as the
Aufseherin
set the Alsatian on her. Sabine had tried not to look but she couldn’t ignore the cries, the screams, the growls, the sound of the dog worrying the woman from side to side. She kept her eyes focused on the barbed wire fence in the distance, kept them there until the woman went quiet.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Sabine could feel Eliza, heavier, heavier, heavier against her arm.
She opened her mouth, then stopped herself. What was the point in asking Eliza if she was alright? None of them were alright. And Eliza was too exhausted to answer anyway.
The women in front had stopped walking. Was this another stop? Would they get something to eat? She heard the whispers.
They’ve gone.
White flags.
We’re on our own.
They’ve left us, they’ve run away.
‘Come on, darling,’ Sabine led Eliza to the side of the track, lent her against a tree, ‘I think they’ve deserted. The rumours about us winning must be true.’
Eliza’s face was grey. She didn’t answer, couldn’t hold herself up. She slid down the tree. Sabine sat next to her, used her weight to prop them both up. Other women were doing the same now, sitting, lying down, collapsing where they stood.
Eliza slumped to the side. Sabine caught her, lowered her, placed her head in her lap. She stroked Eliza’s face, whispered to her.
‘It’s okay, we’re almost there, darling. Stay strong. You’ll be home soon, with Adam and with Bill.’
She still cradled Eliza when she heard the rumble of the approaching lorries. A few of the women stood up, began to scream.
It’s the Germans, they’re back, with machine guns.
It’s the Russians, quick, hide.
Sabine stayed where she was. She couldn’t move Eliza, they would just have to sit here and wait for whoever it was to arrive.
‘Ma’am, can I help you into the transport?’
A
GI
held out his hand. She saw the disgust and pity flit across his face, he didn’t want to touch her.
She must have fallen asleep. Other women were already in the back of the lorry. They had blankets, food, water.
‘Take Eliza first, she’s so poorly.’
The soldier knelt down.
‘I’m very sorry, Ma’am, but I’m afraid your friend hasn’t made it.’
‘No, you’re wrong. Eliza, Eliza, wake up, darling, wake up. Please wake up. They’re here. They’re here.’
Sabine’s legs were numb, Eliza’s head heavy in her lap. She tried to lift her, but she couldn’t do it. She was so heavy. So heavy for someone so tiny.
‘Eliza, wake up, wake up, we’re safe now.’
‘I’m very sorry for your loss, Ma’am.’
Ma’am.
Ma’am.
Why did he keep calling her that?
Did she look like an old woman to him?
‘Please, Ma’am, let me help you into the transport. The Red Cross are nearby, they’re expecting…’
‘Stop calling me Ma’am. I can’t leave her, I can’t leave her here.’
The
GI
stood up, waved over two other soldiers. They lifted Eliza, helped Sabine to her feet. She wanted to fight them off, hit them, struggle, she wasn’t leaving without Eliza. But she was so tired, too weak to fight back.