Good luck homing pigeon

Chapter eight: Work brings freedom...

Hey guys! Music video above is 'I'm always chasing rainbows', sang by the late, great Judy Garland. These introduction chapters into Auschwitz-Birkenau weren't easy for me to write-granted, it's hard to write about a subject that's so tragic, you can't even begin to understand it. But I did the best I could do and I hope it's easier for you to read than it was for me to write.

They took us all into a surly-looking, brick-room. Like the one in the Vélodrome d'Hiver, it smelt like the inside of a toilet, and justly so. It look and felt like women would've relieved themselves in pure fear. Fear that they were all going to be sent straight into a gas chamber after they were done with us. But we all knew better. We knew if they'd taken us so far, and made the effort to separate us from the men, then surely they'd be keeping alive in the meantime. After all, I never thought they'd discriminated when it came to gassing both men and women.

"Polish?" The prisoner spoke, glaring at us with vacant, muddy-brown eyes. "Speak Polish?"

I only knew a few words, thanks to Andre. But none of us, from what I knew of, spoke fluent Polish. But then, we were all taken by surprise when Alina raised her hand, a little timidly at first, then took a step forward.

"Alina, no!" Antonia hissed, "Whatever they want Alina, don't give it to them."

"They asked us a question mama, and I know Polish!" She replied fervently, "don't worry; I'll be fine."

I felt anxious for Alina as she stepped closer to the prisoner. Why did she need a translator? Surely there must've been another prisoner here who spoke French as well. Why one of us?

"dobra, można przechwycić za mnie. Teraz powiedz im, aby dostać w swoje ubrania, a teraz. Wszyscy." The woman murmured to Alina. Brief Polish I'd learnt could never  stretch to what I'd just heard! And I hoped Alina wasn't lying about being able to understand Polish.

"She wants us to undress," she said, "quickly."

Undress? Why on earth would we need to do that?!

All around me, women began to strip off every, single garment. From their worn, leather shoes, to the suspenders and stockings. Was this necessary? And more important, would we get our clothes back afterwards?

Not hesitating a second longer, lest the prisoner woman got angry, I yanked my dress up, over my head, then dropped it into a pile on the urine-stained floor. Along with my shoes, socks, and then came my slip and underwear. I'd never been naked amongst so many people before! Ever since womanhood struck, I'd tried my best to dress behind closed doors. Even Briana hadn't seen me wearing anything less that my undergarments. Obviously, Birkenau cared not for a woman's dignity. Why was that not surprising to me?

When I took a look around me, it made me feel just a little more relieved that I wasn't the only one naked by now. Briana now stood; trying modestly to cover herself with a hand and forearm. And then there was mama. It almost frightened me to see her so! Without her favourite, cotton dresses, or those beautiful, high-heeled stilettos she wore on her days out, she wasn't Evangeline Khristoff. She wasn't that sophisticated woman half of Paris came to know as one of the best seamstresses of the '30's'. She was just another prisoner. Naked, unmasked, undignified.

"Na zewnątrz, na zewnątrz, teraz!" The prisoner woman shouted, shoving at those who lingered at the back. Well, she didn't have to tell us twice! After nearly three weeks of being herded about by German soldiers, we knew by now that we were only being herded somewhere else.

Outside, we were forced to run. The muddy ground squelched beneath our bare feet as we padded quickly, in the direction the prisoner woman forced us to go. It was still quite cold during the night times, so to run, nude through the untended air was like no kind of cold I'd experienced before. Sure, I had done this once with Angelo. But that was a stifling, summer evening, and we were just twelve and thirteen. Running naked, in what could've turned to pouring rain, amongst other women who felt the exact same way as I did was different. It was as if we were fully aware now, what the process of becoming a prisoner required. And yes, as Angelo said, they couldn't take away you  fully. But they could damned well try-and nearly succeed.