stove. I assumed it was there to boil water for sterilizing instruments, but I saw other possibilities. With a little bit of luck I might beg a potato or turnip from the kitchen. My tin cup would serve as a pot.
Dr. Mosbach, a tall, broad-shouldered man in a white coat, soon arrived. He greetedme warmly and told me I would be safe here. We had only one patient that day, and after examining him, the doctor left.
It was still dark when I awoke the next morning, but I could tell by the sky that daybreak was at hand. I dressed quickly, grateful to have my loden cloth coat and two sweaters to keep me warm. It was all I had left. Crossing the dimly lit camp, I walked briskly to the infirmary. Janek was already there.
âYou are early,â he greeted me.
âHunger kept me awake,â I said.
âHelp yourself to hot water,â he said. âItâs on the stove.â
I placed my hands around the tin cup, almost burning myself. But it felt good, and I pretended I was sipping hot cocoa.
The whistle blew, barrack doors opened, and people ran to the place of assembly. Working in the infirmary exempted me from reporting there. Later Janek went to the camp kitchen to pick up our ration of âcoffeeâ anda slice of bread with a pat of margarine.
In the afternoon a patient arrived. I tried to engage him in conversation, but all I got out of him was, âWhen will the doctor be here?â
âHow did you get that bullet in your leg? Where did you come from?â Dr. Mosbach fired question after question and let the patient know he would not touch him before he told him everything. Reluctant at first, the patient soon told his story in a rush of words.
âI had been hiding with a Polish farmer for over a year. I paid him well, but he wanted more and more money. He already had everything I owned, and I had nothing more to give him. Yesterday he tried to chase me off his property. When I refused to leave, he shot me.â
Dr. Mosbach went to work immediately. The patient was in great pain, there was no anesthetic, and the instruments were old.
When I returned the next morning, the patient was gone.
My own life started to get better than ithad been in a long time. Janek had a friend who worked in the kitchen and supplied us with an occasional potato or turnip, which we roasted on the stove. Even the soup portions were bigger because of his friend. But food was not my greatest concern. I was more concerned with knowing where my family was and how they were coping.
I liked looking out the window, especially at sunset. The amber sky often moved me to tears. When the sunset was beautiful, I was even more vulnerable, wondering if Mama and the boys were able to see what I saw.
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I had worked in the infirmary for just over a month when Janek told me to get a bed ready, preferably the one in the far corner near the stove.
âWhy that one?â I asked.
âOne of the Kapos went to work on a young boy. I heard he is in bad shape. Heâll need to be kept warm.â
Iâd barely gotten the hot water and bandages ready when the door opened and the patient was brought in on a stretcher. His clothes were in tatters, and he was covered with blood. The minute they tossed him onto the bed and I saw his face, I screamed.
âWhat is it?â Janek asked.
âThis is my brother. Itâs Selly!â I cried.
I became hysterical, screaming and running in circles. Janek grabbed me by the shoulders and demanded I get hold of myself. He went over to the bed.
âCan you hear me, Selly? Your sister, Hannelore, is right beside you. Youâre safe now.â
We sponged my brotherâs bruised face, removed his tattered clothes, and wet his swollen lips. Blood had congealed around his eyes and mouth. Selly wailed and moaned. If he recognized me, he didnât show it.
Dr. Mosbach came immediately and probed him all over. Selly winced and cried at