I sat in the back of that truck, and I watched the road pass quickly as we drove. Some of the other survivors rested on each other and tried to sleep, but I found little rest. I was tired and weak, but sleep was the last thing on my mind. Images of my mother, Mr. Becker and John, flashed through my mind like a movie. Pain swept over me and covered me like a blanket, because none of them would ever know freedom. Guilt overtook me, but I held back tears knowing that crying wouldn't bring anyone back, and wouldn't take away the guilt. I hated the fact that the Lord had spared me, but not my loving mother. He didn't save John, who couldn't wait to live life to the fullest, or Mr. Becker, who just wanted to sit at his desk and make beautiful clocks for the people in our village.
I felt guilty for not dying and heaped upon myself the guilt my father would never allow himself to feel. I rested the back of my head against the side of the truck, the sun had gone down, and the moon's light seemed to follow the truck as we drove. I remember wondering how being freed was any better than being held captive. I had nothing to go back to; I knew nothing of the world and what it had to offer me. I was in a broken place, in a broken country with little hope of making it on my own. I was only just 21 at the time and had no skills that could support me. I was sick, scared, and the sound of any loud noise caused me to jump, and my whole body would begin to shake. Edith was far more confident in what she was going to do. She said she had family in America, and she would go there when she was able. I didn't understand how she could see the future so brightly after so much suffering.
Edith held my hand tightly as we sat in the back of the truck. She told me about her plans, but I couldn't help but tune her out as I thought about my home. I wondered what had happened to it, whether bombs had been dropped on it or someone had just moved in because it was available. As far as I knew, my father had had no need to go back there after my mother, and I had been taken by the SS.
After hours of being in the back of the truck, we arrived at a large hospital. Some doctors and nurses appeared to help us out of the truck. The nurses touched us gently as we got off the truck. Those who couldn't stand got wheelchairs, and those who had enough strength stand of their own were escorted in by doctors or nurses. Edith and I walked into the hospital, holding on to each other. I had heard stories of the Nazis sending people to "hospitals" to be tested on and then executed. I didn't want to believe that that was where I had been sent to, but I certainly couldn't rule it out. At that time of my life, I had no reason to believe anyone, and so when someone explained to me what was happening, I couldn't help but assume they were lying.
We walked up to a large building. Nazi flags still waved outside of the hospital, which did not help the distrust that was firmly ingrained within me. A few of the soldiers who had escorted us to the hospital, tore down the flags as we walked in.
The hospital was full of people. Nurses ran around doing their best to attend to everyone. Edith and I were led upstairs to a large room that didn't have as many people in it. The beds were still pushed close together to make room for those who hadn't arrived yet. They showed us to two beds against a window, they told us to sit and wait for a doctor to see us. I sat down on the edge of the bed and looked outside. Edith crawled under her covers and rested her head on the soft pillow. It had been a long time since either of us had slept in an actual bed. Edith sighed as she rested her head on the pillow, the beds were small, lumpy, and the most beautiful thing Edith and I had seen in years. She watched me as I sat stiffly on the edge of my bed, not doing or saying anything.
"Beth?" Edith said with a whisper.
I looked at her, feeling my body grow weak, and my eyes grow heavy with sleep, "Yes?"
"Everything is going to get better from here," Edith reassured me with a small smile.
I nodded, lying down on my bed, gazing up at the white ceiling. "I hope you're right."
"Things are already getting better, we are free," Edith said with a yawn.
"Freedom for me means being completely alone," I answered, trying to fight back the tears.
"You won't be alone. I'll still be with you," She reached across and grabbed my hand.
I looked over at Edith, and saw her eyes had drooped shut. "For how long?" I whispered.
The next day Edith and I were told to go take showers, which caused us to be a little hesitant. We were reassured that it really was just a shower, and that we would be all right. I knew they were just trying to ease our worried minds, but they couldn't possibly understand our level of apprehension.
Edith and I showered off, but no matter how much scrubbing I did, I would never be able to wash off those years at the camp. I scrubbed myself raw. I had bruises that covered my entire body, scars from various beatings, and a rash from the filth that had become a part of my frail flesh. Vermin bites covered me from head to toe, and then there was the tattoo that everyone wore. No amount of scrubbing would erase that. I ran my fingers over the numbers that would remain permanently a part of me. I could see my whole body naked for the first time in three years, and I could see every bone in my body. My eyes were sunken, and my once rosy skin was grey and clung to my insides as though afraid of falling off. My hair was still shaved due to the many lice outbreaks, and I could see many exposed scars on the top of my head. I was horrified at my reflection in the mirror. The person who looked back at me was not the person I had once been. I was a skeleton, bruised and broken, decaying before my very eyes. I wanted to vomit at the image before me, a sight that even now I cannot erase.
Some nurses brought us some clean clothes and burned the clothes I had been wearing. They then gave us food. Soup was our first meal. Our bodies had adjusted to starvation, and eating solid food would take some getting used to.
Doctors examined us once we were clean and fed. Everyone that came from Aussichtslos was very malnourished. The doctor that examined me realized that a few of my ribs were still broken. I also had a gash in the back of my head. The doctor told me to rest and not move or laugh for a while since 3 of my ribs were broken. Although I didn't find many things humorous during those days. Edith had a fever, but the doctors weren't exactly sure what illness was causing it. It could have been several things, and each doctor was trying to keep up with all the diseases people were bringing. Only time would tell, so we were both told to sleep.
Edith and I both slept for what felt like days. Now that I look back on it, we did sleep for days. The pain that I had grown so used to began to subside, but Edith became sicker and sicker. I couldn't bear the thought of losing Edith. I prayed every night that the Lord wouldn't take the last person I cared about away from me. Without Edith, I would have no one, and I would fall apart. I prayed vigorously, pleading with God to spare the one friend I had left.
I remember one night when I was in the hospital, I was watching the ceiling, and when I looked over at Edith, and she was just watching me. I smiled at her, happy to see that she was awake. She had been asleep for almost two days at that point.
"Hello," I said.
"Hello," Edith answered with a weak smile.
"How are you feeling?" I asked gently.
Edith took a moment and seemed to think over the question, "I've felt better."
"At least you are finally awake. I was beginning to wonder if you would ever wake up," I said with fear in my voice.
"I'm okay," Edith said, trying to sit up a little, but giving up quickly.
I nodded and looked back up at the ceiling, while a few silent moments passed.
"Why do you stare at the ceiling for hours?" Edith asked.
I looked at her, puzzled by the question. I hadn't really been aware that I stared at the ceiling more than anyone else did. "I don't know. I guess I get lost in thought and forget what I'm staring at."
"It's almost like you're waiting for God to appear. You still believe in God, right?" Edith remarked, sounding worried.
"Yes," I answered quickly.
"Really?" Edith asked, not sounding convinced.
"Don't you?" I asked.
She hesitated, and I think if she had been strong enough, she would have sat up to emphasize her point. "Yes. I do, but when I look at you and think about all that has happened to you. I don't think I would blame you if you stopped."
I thought about her words for a moment. "Sometimes I wondered whether the God of the Jews would really look after me, a Nazi's daughter. I wondered if I was being childish, believing in a God who would allow me to be put in such a place like that. I realized something, though. He brought Rolf into my life to protect me, and he brought you into my life to remind me that life wasn't over yet. I was told once by a friend that God never gives us more than we can handle, but I think God had more faith in me than I had in myself." I remember Mr. Becker telling me that when I was little.
Edith smiled and reached her hand out toward mine, "You are a very strong woman Beth."
"I didn't do it alone." I squeezed her hand, and tears fell despite my smile.