Emilia: The darkest days in history of Nazi Germany through a woman's eyes (Women and the Holocaust Book 1) Read online

  Emilia

  The darkest days in history of Nazi Germany through a woman's eyes

  Ellie Midwood

  Contents

  Konzentrationslager

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Liberation

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  About the Author

  Copyright ©2016 by Ellie Midwood

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by: Melody Simmons

  “Do not look for my heart anymore, the beasts have eaten it.”

  - Charles Baudelaire, “The Flowers of Evil”

  Konzentrationslager

  Chapter 1

  Suburbs of Danzig, occupied Poland, May 1941

  The weather that day was especially windy. Emilia stood outside her house, pulling the collar of her overcoat closer to her face, scowling. Her father, Oskar Brettenheimer, was trying to reason with the Untersturmführer in charge, inquiring about compensation; the latter kept spreading his arms nonchalantly and shaking his head. Emilia smirked slightly and shook her head as well, but only at her father. Poor old man, he still had faith in the rightfulness of the German people.

  He had always prided himself in being a German and even welcomed that madman Hitler’s appointment as chancellor, saying how farsighted the man was and how he’d make Germany a strong country once again. He did; only it seemed that there wasn’t a place for their family in that new country anymore. That had become clear after a new law was issued in 1938 for all Jews to register at the immigration department and to start wearing a yellow star sewn onto their clothes.

  Oskar had gone gray in the course of a month, collected all their savings – luckily in time, before it was announced that all Jews were stripped of their citizenship – and moved his family to Poland, hoping to reopen his jewelry store and wait until it was safe for them to return home. Even then he was still certain that it would all pass.

  They bought a nice small house in Gdansk, a city close to the German border, which had a predominantly German population. The Brettenheimers lived there quite comfortably for three years, until Germany attacked Poland a year after Emilia and her family moved there. The new occupants, roaming the streets in their gray uniforms, became a usual sight, but even then Oskar tried not to lose his optimism; or maybe he just didn’t want to admit to himself that he was wrong and they were defeated.

  “We’re Germans, first and foremost,” he kept repeating when his wife, Hannah, pleaded to move away someplace safe, to the United States or England at least. “We have lived in Munich our whole lives, our families lived in Munich their whole lives, and their families before them. Besides, they’re after the religious ones, and we aren’t considered religious by any means. We only go to the synagogue once a year for Yom Kippur, that’s how religious are we! No, Hannah, I’m telling you, if we just comply with what they tell us, we’ll be just fine. They have been in Poland for two years now and they’ve never bothered us. And forget your wild fantasies about England! Neither of us speak their language, so how would we survive there? No, we’re staying put right here, where we are. They won’t hurt us, you’ll see.”

  Only a week after that conversation, Untersturmführer Weisner knocked on their door with three uniformed soldiers behind his back, introduced himself, tipped his cap and gave them an order for eviction.

  “But this is our house! We bought it! We’re the rightful owners! It’s paid off!” Hannah screamed, while Oskar just stood there, fondling the paper in his hands, crestfallen and mute. “How come you’re evicting us from our rightful property?”

  “I’m very sorry, Frau Brettenheimer.” Untersturmführer Weisner even tilted his head to one side, although his subordinates were already taking their clipboards out to make a list of the furniture and all of the Brettenheimer’s possessions. “This is a high order. Poland is the territory of the Reich now, and, therefore, you aren’t allowed to own any property. This house is being confiscated by the Reich. I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.”

  “So, you’re just throwing us out on the street?” Oskar barely whispered, finally bringing himself to look in the eyes of Untersturmführer Weisner.

  “No, most certainly not, Herr Brettenheimer.” The young officer motioned to one of his subordinates and took a paper from the folder that the man held out for him. “Here’s your new placement order. You are allowed to take several suitcases with you, but bear in mind that the things that you are allowed to take must not include anything of the value to the Reich. No jewelry and no money – only thirty zloty for a family is permitted.”

  Emilia moved away from the table when one of Weisner’s subordinates smiled and pointed at the big silver menorah behind her back. She watched him put that on his list as well. Oskar thoroughly read the paper, with Hannah looking over his shoulder, wringing her hands.

  “But it’s in Krakow.” Oskar glanced at the officer again. “How are we to get to Krakow from here?”

  “Do not worry about that, Herr Brettenheimer, we’ll provide you with transportation.” Another formal, but at least polite, answer followed. “The trucks that will take you there, together with the rest of the people from your area, are already waiting outside. When you’re finished packing any approved items, you may proceed to take your place in one of them. Only, don’t forget to give your names to the receiving officer.”

  Less than an hour later, Emilia went outside to guard the two suitcases which her mother had already packed, and watched her father begging Untersturmführer Weisner to let them at least keep their family jewelry. Judging by the officer’s look, it was in vain.

  Emilia peered into distance, ignoring the looks which the soldiers supervising the eviction in their area kept throwing her way. One of them stopped indecisively in front of her and asked if she was Jewish. Emilia put her hand into her pocket, took out the armband she had been given, which had a blue star on it, and silently pulled it onto her sleeve.

  “I’m sorry, I forgot,” she replied, with absolutely no emotion in her voice.

  The man only nodded and hurried away from her. Emilia was already used to such confusion by now about her family’s background: her whole family had fair looks, and her own ashen blonde hair and gray eyes had saved them from the usual harassment that the darker looking Jews had recently been subjected to. One day, walking from the grocer with her older brother Ariel, she saw a group of soldiers posing for a picture that one of them was taking. Laughing and cheering, they surrounded three Orthodox Jews and began cutting off their payos and beards with their army knives, putting the cut hair on themselves and laughing even harder at that. Ariel had grabbed Emilia’s elbow protectively and rushed to lead her away, before the soldiers noticed them and their armbands.
>
  Emilia didn’t know what to feel now. Being the only girl in the family, she was used to the doting attitude of her father and her brothers, and throughout her entire, short nineteen years of life she had been sheltered from all the troubles and horrors of the world; only now, that horror had come to their house and slapped them right in the face. They were to be thrown out of their house, herded together with their religious and non-religious neighbors, which, as it turned out, made no difference to the Nazis at all, and would be forced to go to the other side of the country, where they barely spoke the language. Emilia kept looking at the sky, feeling completely empty inside.

  “Fräulein.”

  Emilia lifted her head to see one of the soldiers, who was standing inside the nearest truck and holding out his hand for her, to help her get inside. Emilia pointed at the suitcases at her feet, but the soldier only smiled and motioned once again for her to get inside.

  “Don’t worry about your luggage, I’ll help you with it in a minute.”

  Emilia looked back at her father, still pleading with Untersturmführer Weisner, and at her mother, who carried another two heavy suitcases out of the house, and she gave the soldier her hands. He easily pulled her inside the truck and laughed.

  “You’re as light as a feather! Let me go get your suitcases, Fräulein.”

  He jumped down, picked up the luggage and effortlessly flung it inside the truck, where Emilia immediately arranged it under her feet. The soldier gave her another wide grin, before an older woman fumbled with the high step and accidentally brushed his shoulder, to which he roughly pushed her inside, his whole demeanor changing completely.

  “Get on with it, you fat cow! Isn’t it enough for your lot to feast on our hard-earned money! You’ll lose all your weight soon, you’ll see!”

  The woman stumbled again from the rough shove and fell on her knees, then brought herself to stand by Emilia to dust herself off. The soldier, meanwhile, broke into another beaming smile, as if nothing had happened.

  “So, what’s your name, Fräulein?”

  “Emilia,” she replied quietly, intimidated, but not wanting to antagonize the soldier at the same time. “Emilia Brettenheimer.”

  “I’m Rudi. I’ll be transporting you today.”

  Emilia gave him another faint smile, not knowing what to say. The woman took a place opposite her on a wooden bench and began throwing her hostile glares. Emilia just wanted to look away from them both and pretend that she wasn’t even there, but she noticed her mother struggling with suitcases behind her new acquaintance’s back. Fearing the same violent reaction from him, Emilia quickly jumped to her feet and crouched by the step, holding her hands out to her mother.

  Surprisingly, Rudi helped her mother up into the truck in the same gentle manner as he had done with Emilia and, after handing them the rest of their suitcases, winked at Emilia. The big woman, sitting across from them, openly snorted with contempt.

  “Where is Ariel, Alfred and Martin?” Emilia whispered in her mother’s ear, trying to get rid of unwanted attention from both Rudi and her new neighbor.

  Her brothers were working at one of the factories in the center of the city, and Emilia was afraid that they would lose each other in the rush of the forced eviction.

  “Herr Weisner said that everyone who is registered with their office is being transported to Krakow today. He said that the boys will be transported right from the factory, and that they’ll meet us in Krakow. He assured us that they will be given the papers with the same address as ours, so we’ll all be living together in the same place.”

  Emilia nodded. It seemed that Herr Weisner’s word was the only thing they could count on at this point. Nothing else was certain anymore.

  Krakow ghetto, January 1942

  Emilia hurried away from him again. Unterscharführer Richter’s laughter behind her back was a sound she was used to by now. Since they first arrived here, to the former Krakow slums that had been made into a Jewish ghetto by separating them from the rest of the city with a tall wall with barbed wire on top, he seemed to enjoy picking on her – although, picking wasn’t quite the right word, but Emilia didn’t know how else to call it – every time she passed by his assigned post as she went to work and back.

  “Emmi!” He would call her name as soon as she approached the steps of his “office,” (that’s how everyone called it), which in reality was a more or less decent house made into SS guards’ barracks. Most of the time he sat on the steps of his “office,” smoking, with his machine gun lying casually by his side. “Emmi, why don’t you love me, Emmi? Come into my office for a minute, I have tea and dampfnudel for you. Or even a ham sandwich, huh, Emmi?”

  Emilia would only lower her head even more and rush past by him and his comrades, who were also chuckling at their friend’s remarks. One time, however, he managed to catch her alone, without the rest of the women that she worked in the hospital with, and whose company she preferred to walk in. That day, when she was sent to get the doctor who was tending to one of his patients in their home, she was almost knocked off her feet by the tall and broad-shouldered SS guard Richter, when he had almost jumped out at her from around a corner.

  “Did I scare you, Emmi?” He laughed, catching her by the shoulders.

  “Yes, you did,” she admitted, trying to worm herself out of his grip. He wouldn’t let go. “Please, I need to get the doctor, a man is coughing very badly in the hospital…”

  “The man will die anyway,” Richter replied nonchalantly, his gloved hands still firmly gripping her shoulders. “Why don’t you have some tea with me instead? You must be cold and hungry. Look at you, so pale and thin. Now, that’s not good.”

  Emilia fought the desire to look around, in the hope that someone would appear to break the heavy silence and make Richter let go of her. Instead, she kept peering into his dark brown eyes, frowning and hoping that her pursed lips and a scowl would help. It didn’t; the SS guard was very well used to it and wasn’t put off by such expressions.

  “Come, don’t be afraid.” He was already pulling her around the corner closer and closer to the doors of the barracks. “I don’t bite.”

  Unterscharführer Richter finally let go of her arms, fixed the machine gun on his shoulder and ascended the stairs. Emilia threw another desperate gaze around the deserted street – even his comrades weren’t on their usual post today – and followed the SS guard inside, not even knowing why she did so.

  Inside the barracks, he motioned her to follow him along the long corridor to the kitchen, where he hanged his machine gun together with his overcoat and a uniform cap on the back of a chair and invited Emilia to do the same.

  “Sit, sit, Emmi, don’t be so shy. How long have we known each other for you to be so shy around me?” Richter relieved Emilia of her coat despite her weak protests and moved the chair up for her.

  Emilia threw a quick glance at the machine gun, casually hanging off the chair within her reach, while Unterscharführer started fishing something out of the small cupboard. His actions, but more than that, his intentions, were of the utmost mystery to her, especially after he put the kettle onto the gas burner in the corner. Emilia was more than certain before that, when he had dragged her here, he had in mind something other than offering her tea. He turned around and smiled, fixing his thick dark mane with one hand.

  “So, Emmi. Tell me about yourself.”

  “What do you want to know?” She barely whispered. Witnessing the brutal treatment that most of the habitants of the ghetto were subjected to daily, with random shootings on top of that, she tried to stay as far away as possible from the guards; having tea and a pleasant conversation with one of them was definitely the furthest thing from her agenda.

  “I don’t know. It’s not an official interrogation.” He laughed at his own jest, while Emilia kept eyeing him suspiciously. Even though Richter wasn’t doing anything worse than really making tea, she still felt very uneasy in the SS guard’s company. Why had she even fo
llowed him at all?

  “I really have to go get the doctor, Herr Unterscharführer…” Emilia’s voice trailed off despite her attempts to keep it firm. “Can I come back later, and then we talk about anything you want to?”

  “Now, don’t be silly. The tea will be done in two minutes.” Richter motioned his head to the kettle and started arranging a few items on a platter. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  Emilia didn’t reply, but only threw another glance at the heavy weapon that was so close to her that she could outstretch her arm and grab it in case… What case? She was afraid of all weapons, and she wouldn’t even know how to shoot it anyway.

  “What do you want from me?” Emilia asked in a straightforward manner, clasping her cold hands on her knees.

  Richter turned around and lifted his brows in surprise. “What do I want? Nothing. I’m only being nice to you, aren’t I?”

  He put the platter with two ham sandwiches, several crackers and even sliced cheese in front of her. Emilia swallowed involuntarily. For almost nine months her family had had to eat whatever scarce rations they were allowed, which mainly consisted of potato soup, very little bread, and dried meat if they were lucky to get it on the black market once a week.

  She didn’t dare touch anything on the platter, even though her mouth was watering and her stomach was rumbling, much to her embarrassment. Richter put some tea into two mugs and filled them with steaming water.