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10 Liebenau FEBRUARY 28, 1945–LATE MAY 1945 The twenty-eighth of February dawned just like any other of the cold damp ones that had preceded it. I was taken aback when one of our neighbors , a Pole with whom we had been friendly suddenly remarked, ‘‘Virginia , I have the feeling that something extraordinary is going to happen to you today.’’ She hesitated, and then added, ‘‘Something good.’’ I smiled and answered but without conviction: ‘‘I hope you’re right.’’ Half an hour later, the ‘‘bloc’’ captain came in. ‘‘Madame d’Albert is wanted at once,’’ she cried out. Everyone turned to stare at me. I felt panicky. My heart began to pound. I nervously gathered my clothes together and started to dress. Before I had finished the woman came in again. ‘‘Hurry, Madame d’Albert , the office doesn’t like to be kept waiting.’’ I grabbed my coat and shoes and crawled over the other aisle. At the door, a woman who was waiting for me indicated that I was to come with her. She walked rapidly across the camp. I struggled to keep up with her. My legs were so weak; at every step I felt that my knees were no longer going to support me. When we entered the office, the woman seated behind the desk smiled and stared at me with interest. Their arm bands showed that they were prisoners, but privileged ones, designated for secretarial work. I was offered a chair—an unbelievable consideration! After a few minutes I was called into an adjoining office occupied by a woman SS. She smiled agreeably and, though she evidently explained the new situation in which I found myself, I could not understand a word she said. Shortly afterward an SS officer came in. He shoved a bundle of grey and blue striped uniforms into my arms and ordered me to follow him. I was frightened. I thought the uniforms were for me and that a new and greater trial lay ahead. I was shivering all over now. By sheer determination I managed to keep at the heels of this man who was rapidly leading me in the direction of the main gate. We crossed in front of the kitchens and shower rooms, before which were prisoners waiting to carry the soup kettles to the ‘‘blocs.’’ Why did they stare at me so? After going through the gate, we made a sudden turn to the right where cement steps led us up a steep incline. When we reached the top, we crossed a grove of pines and entered a long frame building. The officer led me into another office, abruptly seized the striped garments, and went out. Now I found myself alone with two SS women in uniform. The older of the two was an officer; the younger woman was evidently her secretary. They both turned to stare at me—just like all the others. I fell back in amazement as the officer addressed me in perfect English: ‘‘You are Mrs. D’Albert? You are an American?’’ ‘‘Yes,’’ I murmured. ‘‘Give me the place and date of your birth,’’ she continued. She wrote down my answers. The younger woman smiled at me and said in halting English, ‘‘I can speak a little English.’’ She hesitated as she groped for words. ‘‘Tonight you will be happy. You are going away.’’ A great surge of hope and excitement rose in me. But could it be true? Were they playing with me? Were these more Nazi lies? I felt frightened and apprehensive again. I wanted to ask questions, but I felt stunned and tongue-tied. The secretary led me outside into the hall, and locked me alone into a cell, but not before she had said, ‘‘Just for five minutes.’’ I was really shaking now. I felt as if I could never wait for the five minutes to pass. I began muttering to myself: ‘‘Is it true? Is it true? Am I really leaving? Oh, God, is it true? Are they lying? No, it’s true? I know it is? Oh, hurry! Let me out of here!’’ The door of my cell was opened again by the same man who had led me out of the camp. I must follow him again. We took the same path by which we had come—down the steps, and back into Ravensbrück. Why were we going back again? Where was he taking me? Wasn’t...

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