Days passed, and I heard nothing from John. All I had was hope that he was all right. I did my best to stay positive that he was all right. Every few days, they brought a few men to come help drag the dead women from our barracks. The woman could use this time to find out information about their loved ones on the other side. It wasn't easy doing so and not getting in trouble. A few of the women didn't care if they got in trouble for it, they were desperate to know what had happened to their husbands, fathers, brothers, or anyone they had on the other side of that fence. I couldn't risk asking about John, considering they had guards watching my every move. There was no right moment to ask without taking the chance of losing my life for it. I had promised John I would do all that I could to stay safe even if that meant not knowing if John was safe or even still alive.
One night, as the women were marched back to the barracks, I saw a small piece of paper covered lightly by the straw I slept on. I picked it up, confused by how it had gotten there. I opened the small note it read,
I'm safe.
-J.
I looked around, confused as to how John had managed to get a note to me, but then I noticed several other women also had small letters in their hands. I was puzzled, but too happy to question it. That night I slept well knowing John was safe; that was all that mattered to me.
As time passed, more and more women in the barracks were receiving notes with small messages telling them of the ones they loved. Some of the women understandably questioned how they were getting the letters. Some rumors spread, saying it was one of the women who had dressed as a man had somehow managed to pass between the fences. Some said it was one of the guards, but most didn't care because it was the only thing keeping some of the women alive. I know it made my days much more manageable.
One day, as I was going about my work, one of the guards came over to me, grabbed me roughly by the arm and began to drag me behind him. He didn't say a word to me, he barely even looked me in the eye. The women who had been working near me just watched as I was dragged away. They looked startled and confused, but they could do nothing for me, this was a regular occurrence. The man's grip on my arm was painful. I didn't expect anything less from an SS guard, but my arm was weak and thin, and I felt like it would break any second. I watched people's eyes dart up at me as I was dragged roughly through the camp. The guard then took me through the gate that led into the men's side of Aussichtslos, and I wondered if he was taking me to the guard's barracks to rape me. I had heard stories of that happening, but the women who were taken and used for the guard's pleasure didn't need to be taken to the men's side of the camp. They would usually take the woman behind one of the buildings and assault them. After the screams, we would hear a single gunshot and then silence. The women that this happened too rarely reappeared alive, and if they did, they never lived long after.
I didn't resist the guard, knowing it would do little good to stop what was happening. I looked around, and several men looked up at me with surprise. This made me feel a bit better knowing if this happened regularly, they would hardly pay any attention to it.
The guard and I soon walked up to the back fence of the camp that led out of the camp. It led straight into a wall with a small wooden door that led directly to the house that sat outside of Aussichtslos. The guard then unlocked the entrance to the outside yard, and he then walked me through to the house that sat very near to the wall closest to the camp. I wondered why he was taking me to a house. The garden was unkempt, and a rusty bike rested up against one of the sidewalls of the house.
The house looked old but reasonably well taken care of. There were lots of trees that had grown all around it. Almost as though the trees were trying to shield the house from threats from above. I saw a child's swing that hung from nearby trees, and flowers were blooming everywhere I looked. I looked up at the large house, it looked like 10 people could live there. As we walked the grounds, I saw that there was a porch in the back of the house that looked out over the yard, as well as a table with several chairs around it.
The guard that held me tightly by the arm handed me off to another guard. This guard didn't touch me, he just told me to follow him and not try to run. I followed him into the house by a side door. We entered, and I was awed by the house's beauty. I was not allowed to stand and gawk, and so I followed the guard to a small office. It was a big office with an open window that led to a large open field. I stayed standing, waiting for someone to explain to me why I had been brought there in the first place. Then, after a while, I noticed a small picture on the corner of the large desk. It was a picture of my mother when she was younger, and she was holding me when I was a baby. My heart was filled with longing to see her face again, but then I realized who must be coming to see me. I looked at the guard that stood silently at the door, but he didn't look at me.
I wondered why my father had called me there, and what could he possibly want from me. It felt like hours went by as I just stood in that big office, waiting to see my father and speak to him for the first time since my arrival at Aussichtslos. I had seen him a few times in the year I had been there, but for obvious reasons, we hadn't spoken. He had gone looking for John and had succeeded, I expected the meeting had something to do with that.
I looked at the guard, wondering if he also was growing impatient. After what felt like a lifetime, my father finally opened the door to his office and walked in. He didn't smile at me, he didn't even look me in the face. He just walked in, sat down, and told the guard to go wait outside. I glared at my father. I didn't even recognize him anymore. He gestured for me to sit down, and my stubbornness would have fought against even that simple order, but my weak legs wouldn't allow my stubbornness to win that battle. I sat down, hoping whatever he wanted wouldn't take too long. I looked over at the picture of my mother, wondering why he would even want such a thing to remind him of us. There was a long silence between my father and me, and then he got up and poured me a glass of water.
"I'm going to assume you are thirsty," My father said coldly.
I looked at the glass of water cautiously. He wasn't wrong; the only thing I was given to drink was filthy liquid that could hardly be considered water. I looked at my father then back at the glass. I took the glass in my shaky hand and drank it quickly and then placed it back on the table. I looked up at my father, hoping he didn't expect a simple glass of water to make everything better between us. He looked down at me like I was a bug; he was just moments from crushing. I had been in Aussichtslos for a year at that point, and spent every moment in fear, but I don't think I had ever been so scared as I was in that fancy office, sitting across from my father. My father knew me, he knew everything there was to know about me, and he knew exactly what he needed to do to break me.
"How are you, Beth?" My father asked with a confidence and ease that I hadn't expected. I didn't answer, knowing very well he didn't care how I was doing. The only thing he cared about was his own pride. He was no longer the father I had once loved and trusted with my life. Now my life was in his hands, and I didn't trust him for anything. "I'm not going to hurt you, Beth. You don't need to be afraid." My father insisted.
"You've already hurt me," I said, glaring at him.
He didn't seem to be shaken by this; if anything, he looked slightly amused.
"You brought all of this on yourself, my dear. I am simply following orders. It isn���t my fault you and your mother decided to associate with criminals and force me to put you in this… unforeseen situation." He trailed off at the end, clearly wanting to avoid the word 'labor camp.'
I looked at my father in complete disbelief, he truly believed that what he was saying was the truth. I saw in his eyes that he really did think he was completely innocent, and that it was all mine and my mother's fault for being put in that God-forsaken place. I had no words, I simply sat there and waited for someone to either shoot me or let me go back to Aussichtslos.
"Beth, it turns out that I need your help," My father said with a smile, "As you can see, I have been given this beautiful house, and I simply have no time for the upkeep. I would like it if you would come to stay here with me. I think you have been punished quite enough. Besides, you clearly don't belong in there with the rest of them." He spoke to me as if I were a child who was now ready to come out of their room after a time out.
I couldn't believe what my father was asking of me. He expected me to forget everything he had done and move into a house right next door to the labor camp he had placed me in, the same camp that had killed his wife and my mother. I felt like he had punched me in the stomach. Although what he was asking felt wrong, I had to admit to my tired body that I desperately missed sleeping in an actual bed, eating edible food, wearing human clothes. It would have been easy to say yes, I wanted to say yes as much as it kills me to admit. I almost did, too, but then I remembered John. I remembered all the women I had spent the last year suffering alongside. I would not join the madness, and that was precisely what my father was asking of me.
"I would rather not," I said in a quiet, unconvincing voice.
"Now Beth, I know you don't trust me, but I really do need help around this place. And you belong here with me," He said more sternly.
"You want me to come live with you so that you will have more control over me than you did back home." I stood slowly and looked him straight in the eye, "But father, I would run away. I would break every rule you set for me, and maybe I would kill you in your sleep. I don't believe you want me back here, I belong in the camp. I am a Jewish sympathizer after all," I said with a fury I knew he could feel.
My words had clearly hit their desired target, and he looked shaken. The lines were now clearly drawn in the sand. He knew in that moment exactly where I stood, and I had never forgotten where he stood.
"I see," My father contemplatively, "Well then we must make other arrangements."
"Why?" I said, my body begging me to sit back down.
"How is young, John doing?" my father said, looking at me in a challenging manner. He was ready for the war.
I pursed my lips together, fighting the urge to jump over the table and slit his throat with a letter opener that sat on his desk.
"So, you know he's here then," My father said with a small smirk. "Good."
I couldn't tell my father that I knew he had gone looking for John, it would be the same as confessing that John and I had had a chance to speak. There would be no other explanation for my knowledge of how John had ended up in Aussichtslos.
Before I responded, my body dragged me down to the chair again, "Yes, I know John's here. I saw him get off the train," I answered honestly.
My father stood from his desk, walked over to me, stared me dead in the eyes and said, "Listen here, Beth. I am the commander of this camp. I have the power to make your life hell, but I also have the power to make it a little easier. That is a choice you have to make on your own, I will not hesitate to punish you the same way I would anyone else, including John," He spat.
My whole body was tense, and I glared at him. "Why would you treat me any differently?" I asked with a growl.
"You are still my daughter," He walked back to his seat behind his desk and massaged his temples."Why are you trying to make life so much more difficult for yourself, Beth?"
"I don't want special treatment. I don't want anyone to know I am related to you," I spat back with as much venom as I could.
My father looked slightly shocked, and yet, at the same time, he seemed to already know this. "Yes, I heard you changed your name. Becker, is it?" He asked, with an annoyed scoff.
"That's right," I said, just wanting to leave.
There was a long moment where neither of us spoke. It was almost as though my father was deciding between yelling at me or crying. He avoided eye contact with me, pulling at his fingers and looking at the floor. I sat and waited. My father was so unpredictable, I had no idea what he would do next. I wondered if he would strike me or even kill me. But, as long as I waited, he just sat at his desk, looking at the ground.
"I tried being merciful. I suppose I don't have that luxury anymore, so I will take what I want whether you like it or not. Every other week a guard will walk you to the house, and you will work for me. Do you understand me?" He growled.
"Why?" I asked spitefully.
"Because I control you!" He finally shouted, obviously done with the fake pleasantries. "I am doing this for your own safety."
"No," I said plainly, "You're doing it for your own safety. Having me in Aussichtslos has proven to be riskier than you thought. I am a blemish on Arnold Schmidt's spotless record, and you're trying to regain the respect of your men," I said, feeling quite proud of my composure.
My father chuckled darkly, "The men fear me because you are here. If I am willing to imprison my own child, they can't imagine what I am capable of when it comes to punishing them," He said, sounding crazed.
His words stung like a slap across the face. I was a scare tactic more than a daughter. I had wanted to be so far removed from him that his words wouldn't hurt, but they did.
"I will come as you order, under one condition," I said, trying to regain some sense of control.
"You are in no position to negotiate," My father pointed out.
"Protect John, and I will come and work for you, or I will kill myself," I said plainly, staring him in the eyes. My father knew I was playing a risky game of chance, especially considering what he had mentioned moments earlier.
My father considered my words for a moment and then eyed me carefully, "You wouldn't."
Before I was even fully aware of my movements, I reached for the sharp letter opener and brought it to my own throat. I could feel the cold, sharp edge. I held it close enough to draw a bit of blood, just enough to cause my father to stand and reach across the desk to try and stop me.
"I have nothing left to lose but John. Keep him safe, and I will do what you order." I pressed the knife closer to my paper-thin flesh and winced at the cold, sharp blade that cut the side of my neck.
My father's eyes were wild, and he seemed mildly disoriented by my actions. He gritted his teeth and sat back down in his seat, smoothing out his coat.
"Fine," He said with frustration.
"Swear," I said.
He smiled.
"Swear you won't hurt John!" I shouted hoarsely.
He raised his hands a bit in a mock surrender motion, "I swear," He said smoothly.
When I placed the letter opener back onto the desk, my father quickly grabbed it and shoved it into one of the drawers and then called for the guard to come and take me away. The guard walked in, grabbed me roughly, and was about to pull me out of the room, but then my father stopped him and walked over to me.
He leaned down and whispered in my ear, "You are far more like me than I ever imagined," He slowly turned and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. His words left me speechless. I may have won the battle he had won the war.
The guard walked me out of the house. As he walked me through the backyard that led to the door that went into the camp, I looked back over my shoulder at the house. Up in one of the upper floor windows, I saw my father standing and watching me go. I just couldn't believe what he had become. I was glad my mother couldn't see him this way. I knew how she hoped and prayed for him to realize how wrong he was, but I never expected him to be anything than what he was. I saw the evil in him, he had become the very darkness that he had promised he would protect me from.
The thing that made me sick to my stomach was the fact he thought that everything he was doing was right. He honestly believed that his orders were lawful and that he was protecting his country. I couldn't believe that he could wake up every day feeling at peace with his choices. I had to think that there was still a very small part of him that wondered if giving up his family and blindly following orders was the right choice. I had not only lost my mother, but I had lost my father as well, except his remains were still up and walking around. I wanted so badly to find a way to mourn for the man I had once known. The man who was once good and kind. The man who would have done anything for a friend who needed help, the man that so many had trusted to protect them. That man was long gone, and yet he still lived in a small place in the back of my mind, no matter how I tried to remove him. In moments of weakness and suffering, I wished that I had never seen him shoot Mr. Becker and that I could have been able to live a life utterly blind to the realities of war. I had truly loved my father once, but the man I had known and trusted had been killed by the Nazi's way of thinking.