I tried to find strength in God, which was much harder than I thought it would be. I felt so alone, and I wasn't sure if God could even hear my prayers. I was relatively new to being religious. Mr. Becker had only read parts of the Bible to me, but in that place, I had to hold onto something. It seemed to give so many of the women around me hope, so I clung to it as desperately as I could with very little understanding. The women around me would pray quietly with one another when they could. I never tried to join them, out of fear that they wouldn't want me anywhere near them. One late night, however, I watched as a group of women came around one another and began to pray for each other.
I hesitantly approached them, "May I join you?" I asked shyly.
"Of course. Anyone is welcome, but you should know it is dangerous. If there is another raid, we will be the first to be shot," One of the women warned.
"Then I will welcome death," I said with a soft smile.
Weeks passed, and nearly every night, a group of 4 or 5 women gathered around one another, and we prayed. A few of the women had lost everything. Their children had been taken away and killed, their husbands had also been killed, and they had no idea where the rest their family were. I told them about Mr. Becker, John, and my mother, but I didn't tell them about my father. All they knew was I was an orphan. That group of women helped me find the strength I needed to survive every day. They helped me find my strength in God and gain a little more understanding of what it meant to rely on Him.
Every day I would wake up weak and tired, and every night I would go to sleep with a new sense of strength. I still hurt like the rest of them, but I knew that no matter my suffering, the Nazis had a pain headed their way that they weren't prepared for. One of the women quoted a verse to me that said, "Revenge is mine, says the Lord." For some reason, knowing God would avenge the deaths of all those people brought me a sense of peace. I felt God's presence overwhelm my life and, although I didn't know it at the time, I was going to need it more than ever in the coming weeks.
I worked for my father twice a week, as agreed. Every time I came to the house to work, I could feel his steely eyes watch my every move as though I was going to rob him. I hated working for my father, I hated just being near him, and the very sight of him instilled an anger in me that I couldn't explain to anyone. Every time I looked at him, a new sense of betrayal overwhelmed me so much, I felt I would suffocate. One morning I stood outside the barracks and waited to be escorted or rather dragged to my father's house to work. While I waited for the guard to appear, I noticed Rolf walking towards me. He had never been the guard assigned to walk me to the house before, so I expected him to walk by me without a second glance, but instead, he stopped, took my arm, and we began to walk to my father's house.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I needed to talk to you, but I couldn't take you from the barracks again. Your father is getting suspicious of me," He replied with an unwavering expression.
"I know," I whispered, trying to act casual, "How did you get assigned this job?"
"I requested it. Apparently, I haven't been acting the way I should around here." His tone was even, but there was a hint of disgust behind it.
"You don't murder enough people," I concluded.
"Perhaps," Rolf said softly as though he wished I wouldn't hear him.
"Have you?" I asked, unsure I was ready to hear the answer.
He hesitated, and didn't look at me, "Only in my early years," He confessed.
His words surprised me, and I was suddenly reminded to whom I was speaking. The swastika on his arm seemed glaringly apparent, and I suddenly felt foolish for having allowed myself to make him into something he wasn't.
"I see," I said softly.
"When I started--" He stopped.
"You said you needed to talk to me," I reminded him, wanting desperately to change the subject.
"I wanted to thank you," Rolf replied. His eyes were focused on his steps, and his body seemed tense.
"For?" I asked quizzically.
"You saved my life. You could have told your father what I've been doing." He made sure his voice was low, "I know you don't trust me very much, so thank you," Rolf said with a faint smile that vanished as quickly as it had come.
"You're welcome. You saved my life enough times, I suppose the least I could do was return the favor," I said, looking toward the ground.
"You really are as amazing just as John says," Rolf whispered.
I was surprised by his comment. "I do what I hope is right. It's what any decent person would do in my place," I answered, trying to keep my voice even.
"Not everyone in your position would stand up and protect a Nazi guard," Rolf replied.
"They would if they knew that Nazi guard wasn't like the rest," I said with confidence.
"I wouldn't have if I were you," Rolf uttered softly as he unlocked the door that led to my father's backyard.
"You wouldn't?" I was surprised by his quick fatalistic response.
"I hardly trust myself to be honest. It's hard to ask other people to trust me when I can hardly do the same. I'm don't think that if I were you, I would have made the same choice," He said plainly.
"Even if the person hadn't done anything to betray your trust?" I asked.
"Except I have," Rolf replied without looking at me.
"How so?" I questioned.
"I am a Nazi, that's how. That's enough," Rolf responded bitterly.
He led me to the front door of my father's house, and released me into the watchful eye of the guard that always watched me as I cleaned. I watched Rolf address the solider the way a good Nazi guard should. His eyes were cold and severe; his tone was harsh and unfeeling. He was very good at playing the part of a well-trained Nazi.
Rolf intrigued me. I wanted to know more about him, but felt wrong for it. He confessed to me that he had killed before, and that caused my faith in his kindness to waver. I had never seen him even raise his voice to another person, but how could I justify even one murder? Even if he had saved my life twice and risked his own life for others, could that wipe his slate clean? I didn't have the answers I looked for. All I knew was that what Rolf was doing was bringing a glimmer of peace to people who had little to hope for. He seemed burdened and yet strong and confident. He reminded me of my father in some ways, and of Mr. Becker in others. This dichotomy caused me to feel confused about whether I liked or distrusted him. I thought about him all while I was working at my father's house. I wondered about what he meant when he said he didn't trust himself. I watched him stand outside in the backyard of the house. He looked troubled, but then I guessed he would have a lot to be troubled about. He was risking his life and the safety of everyone he cared about just to protect people he didn't know.
I hated to admit that Rolf was a handsome looking young man. He had very light hazel eyes, his hair was light brown and wavy, and he was well built and tall. Rolf looked like he could hold his own in a fight, and at the same time, he had quite a youthful face. Although he was obviously a grown man, at times, he still looked so young and innocent. A part of me guessed he had been forced to grow up before his time as many kids had to do during those days. I had to confess I was thankful for him and all he had done for John and I. I owed him my life, but as long as he wore the Swastika on his arm, I could never trust him completely.
After I finished my work, I was escorted out of the house, and then Rolf took over and walked me back to the camp.
"I'm sorry you are forced to do this," Rolf whispered.
"I do this to keep John safe," I replied.
"I know you do. You really love him," Rolf added.
"More than anything, he is the only family I have left," I responded, watching his face change a bit.
There was a long silence, but then he asked me the one question that was always impossible to answer.
"You are the commandant's daughter, aren't you?" Rolf asked.
"Why ask me a question you already know the answer to?" I asked impatiently. Nearly everyone knew, but with the rumors spreading about my death, I was sure it was a question he felt needed to be asked.
"I have a hard time believing someone as good as you would be related to such an evil man," Rolf said.
I watched the ground as we walked through the camp, "I am the commandant's daughter, but my paternity does not define who, or what I am." I said defensively.
"But he is your family," Rolf seemed dumbfounded, as if my relation to my father held an inherent contradiction.
"He's as dead to me as I am to him," I said harshly.
There was nothing left that could be said between Rolf and me, so we walked the rest of the way in silence. I knew he was trying to understand me the same way I wanted to understand him, but there were parts of who I was that I wasn't ready to show to anyone. I also knew he was trying to be kind to me, but I felt the need to push him away for his own good. I didn't need anyone else in my life, making things difficult. I had to protect myself the best I could. Rolf brought a complication into my life that I didn't expect and wasn't sure how to handle.
For nearly 4 months, Rolf appeared at the same time every week to walk me to my father's house. We only spoke for a bit, but trust slowly grew between us. He would tell me how John was doing when he could, which I appreciated above everything else he was doing. The position we were in did not permit lengthy conversation, but it made the short journey a little more enjoyable. It was the only time I felt safe, and for a while, it allowed me to breathe.
One day as I waited outside the barracks to go work for my father, I expected Rolf to come and take me to the house, but he didn't, and another guard came instead. I didn't dare inquire after Rolf, but it soon became a regular occurrence. I heard nothing from Rolf, and I didn't see him anywhere around the camp. I wondered if he had been caught or moved to a different camp. I didn't know how to feel about his absence. I didn't know whether I was upset or glad he was gone, but something didn't seem right. I wasn't the only one who hadn't heard from him in weeks.
Communications stopped from both sides of the camp, no one knew anything of anyone. Without Rolf there to be the prisoner's messenger, we were all left in the dark. I worried that Rolf was dead. I was afraid that my father had found out about what he had been doing and that he had taken care of the problem. My imagination went crazy. I worried that John had gotten swept up in Rolf's trouble and had been killed as well. I spent my already sleepless nights wondering what had happened and where Rolf had gone.
Weeks passed, and I heard nothing from Rolf or John. The guards seemed to be on edge and watched everyone even closer than they had before. I didn't think it was possible, but the violence escalated. The guards seemed to be trying to prove their worthiness to be there. In the mornings, when we were dragged from the barracks into the freezing air of dawn, instead of picking one person to randomly shoot in the morning, it became two or three people. The guards became more cruel with their torture. They put their killings on display for all to see so that no one ever questioned their loyalties.
When I worked in the yard, I would scan the faces of every guard that stood nearby, but Rolf rarely walked the grounds with the other guards. He worked part of the time in one of the office buildings, but that was my only chance to look for him.
One day, as I worked in my father's house, I overheard two guards speaking about Rolf. I was cooking in the kitchen and stood close to the door, so I could hear them better.
"He's going to set this place ablaze soon if he doesn't find Hartmann," One of the guards said.
"I heard he was given leave," The other guard said with confusion.
"I heard he left, and he took one of the prisoners with him." The first guard whispered as though afraid of anyone hearing him.
"Was he successful?" The second guard whispered in return.
The first guard shrugged slightly, "No one knows, all we know for certain is that he has gone missing and hasn't returned."
"He's a dead man," The second guard chuckled quietly.
"Good riddance, I say." They both quietly snickered and then fell silent.
Rolf had left the camp without permission and had taken a prisoner with him. I knew that would be the end of him if he were ever found. I slumped in my cot at the thought of never seeing Rolf again. I hadn't known him long or very well, but I had within that time grown in fondness for him. I wondered what John would do without Rolf looking after him. His health had been failing since he arrived at Aussichtslos. There was nothing I could do for John. I couldn't ask my father to help him. My father agreed not to shoot him, he never agreed to aid him in his failing health. Everyone in that place was sick and weak. Everyone there looked near to death because of the lack of food and water made us all look like walking skeletons.
Two months passed since Rolf had left. Patrols were still actively searching for him and the unknown missing prisoner. I knew my father's pride had to have been substantially damaged by the escape, and I found some joy in knowing that. Some of the women in the barracks were starting to wonder if he had already been caught and killed. I wondered how long some of us would last without Rolf as a safety net. My concern was not just for me but also for everyone else who had grown so reliant upon his kindness.
I remember the night I saw the real monster my father had become. I saw the face of the evil that had ravished his mind. It had to have been close to midnight, and the camp was still. All that could be heard at night was the rustling of the trees outside, the coughs of sick prisoners. Suddenly, a blaring horn went off, and the whole camp was shaken awake. It was the morning alarm, but we had been ushered into the barracks hardly an hour before. Sleep deprivation was not a new concept for us, but it did seem a bit odd. SS guards rushed into the barracks and began to yell at us to get into the yard outside. We all dragged our exhausted bodies into the yard, but this time we were dragged to the part of the yard near the open space that divided the men's and women's sides of the camp. Some of the men were pressed up against the dividing fence. The women looked at each other, searching for answers. We were shoved closer, then suddenly one of the large spotlights appeared and there before us stood my father and Rolf.
My heart stopped.
I clambered to get to the front of the crowd. Rolf was out of uniform, and he was covered in dirt and hay. His shirt was torn, and his shoulder seemed to be dislocated, hanging at an angle it shouldn't be able to hang. He was clearly in an extreme amount of pain. He was biting his bottom lip, trying not to actively cry out in agony. My father pushed Rolf onto his knees, and stood mightily over him, clearly soaking in the power he must have felt.
"This man is a traitor!" My father bellowed into the crowd, causing a flurry of whispers not only amongst the prisoners but the guards as well. "He has taken it upon himself to disobey my every order, and defy the power the Füh·rer himself has bestowed upon me!" He shouted.
I began to panic. I searched the faces of the crowd on the men's side, hoping to see John somewhere, but I couldn't make out anyone from the men's side due to the light that shined so brightly down upon Rolf and my father.
"Let this be a warning to every person in this camp, I will not hesitate to discipline those who act against me." My father then brought out three other guards who began to beat Rolf until he stopped moving. Blood spewed from his mouth, and I could hear the cracking of his bones. I couldn't watch, so I turned to hide behind the crowd that only grew more and more morbidly curious. Finally, they shut the light off, and the crowd was ushered away from the fences.
I felt sick to my stomach. I turned and saw two of the guards pick up Rolf's body from the mud and walk off. I wondered where they buried treasonous guards, probably with the rest of the disposable bodies. Even tears couldn't relieve the ache that tore through me like a knife. I walked back to the barracks with everyone else, stunned and disoriented.
Before I reached the barracks, one of the guards came and grabbed me by the back of the arm. I looked up at him, but he didn't say a word to me. He just pulled me with him. We walked to a part of the camp I hadn't been to before, in the far corner on the men's side. The guard pushed me through the door, and when I finally got a grip on where I was, I saw Rolf lying on a cot and my father standing above him. The guard who had dragged me there quickly removed himself, leaving me alone with my father and Rolf's body. No one except my father, Rolf, and I were inside. It didn't seem to be a permanent place of residence since no sign of anyone living there existed except that there were 4 beds lined up right next to each other.
Before my father spoke, he walked past me and opened the door, he told the guard that stood just outside to go back to the barracks and that he would call him when he was needed. He carefully watched the young guard walk away, and then he resumed his original place next to Rolf. I was shaking.
"Calm down, he's not dead...yet," My father said coldly.
His words hit me like a bolt of lightening, "What?" I asked, angry that my father could still read my face like a book.
"I didn't kill him, though he may die nonetheless," he said simply, without even a hint of remorse in his voice.
I didn't move, "You didn't kill him for my benefit, so what do you want?" I asked starkly.
"Nothing," My father said, holding his hands behind his back in a militant stance. "He has some news for you before he leaves, and I wanted to be here when he told you." He sneered as he pushed Rolf a bit as though to wake him, but Rolf didn't stir. Then he slapped him hard across the face, and Rolf groaned slightly. My eyes darted from Rolf's then back to my father.
"What news?" I asked, fear creeping into my blood.
"Why don't you ask?" My father said with a grin.
I slowly approached Rolf's side. I wasn't sure what to do, he was struggling for air, and I was sure one of his ribs was broken. "Rolf?" I asked hoarsely.
"Common boy, share the news then you can die," My father said, clearly annoyed by the delay.
Rolf struggled, but finally, he opened the one eye that wasn't swollen shut and looked up at me. He no longer looked like a harsh, well-trained Nazi guard, he looked like a scared boy. I involuntarily grabbed one of his hands and squeezed it, gently trying not to hurt him any more than he already was.
"John..." He muttered, grimacing in extreme pain.
My heart began to race even faster, "What about John?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. "What about John, Rolf? What happened?" I looked up suddenly at my father, "What did you do?" I accused.
My father simply shook his head "Nothing, my dear, I didn't lay a hand on him. I didn't have to," He announced with cruel delight.
"Beth," Rolf coughed painfully, "John...John's dead," He struggled to say.
I let his hand go and stood up, nearly tripping over the cot behind me. My thoughts were spinning, and it caused the room to spin with them.
"It seems this young man was so smitten with you, he killed John," My father snickered.
I couldn't believe it, it couldn't be right "Rolf, what happened?" I demanded.
Rolf gritted his teeth, trying not to pass out, "I...I didn't...He was sick," He struggled to say, "He couldn't...he couldn't hold on," Rolf said, arching his back in pain which only made his pain worse.
"That's enough," My father said to Rolf, "Now this traitor will be moved someplace that will make him wish I had killed him." My father walked past me and blew the whistle that hung around his neck. Two guards promptly grabbed me, "Take her back to the barracks," My father ordered without a second thought.
My mind was spinning, and my fragile body could hardly handle panic that was flooding my system. "Wait!" I screamed without thinking. The guards stopped tugging at me, but their grip on my arms didn't subside "What will you do to him?" I asked, looking at Rolf, who seemed to have finally passed out from the pain.
My father eyed Rolf like a he was dirt on his boot, and then slowly approached me like a snake preparing to eat a rat in one quick strike. "I am moving him to a place that makes this place look like heaven," He patted my shoulder and promptly removed himself from the building.
One of the guards remained, watching Rolf as I was dragged from the guard's quarters. I limply followed the solider, unable to fight him even if I had the strength to do so.
There was no point.
Everything I had was lost to me.
I no longer had a lifeline.
I was shoved into the dark, cold barracks and landed hard on the floor. I could feel my knee begin to bleed, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. I leaned my back against the edge of one of the cots. John was dead, Rolf had taken him someplace, and he died. That was the only thing that ran through my mind like an ever-turning wheel. Suddenly like a tree branch, something snapped in me. Something shattered so deep within in, I'm not sure it has ever been fully recovered. For the first time since I arrived at Aussichtslos, I was fully aware of my paper-thin skin, the hunger that was never ceasing, and the rats that grew fat on the flesh of the dead. I could feel every flea biting away at my flesh, my teeth were rotting out of my head, and like everyone else, I barely resembled a human anymore. John was dead. Like so many others, he couldn't fight the soothing darkness of death that tempted. I had finally given up fighting, and in that moment, I too welcomed death's relief.