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8 Internment at Könisgberg OCTOBER 16, 1944–FEBRUARY 2, 1945 In the early morning of the 16th of October, we left Ravensbrück once again. We waited for hours previous to our departure, standing in line, first for galoshes, then for a shower bath and the change of clothes. The galoshes were heavy, shapeless and wooden-soles, and never fitted to the foot, they rubbed and made blisters. Usually blisters developed into vitamin sores, ugly sores that never healed. Although my shoes, the same pair I was wearing at the time of my arrest, were in bad shape, with the soles worn through the heels worn off, still they fitted my feet, and I decided not to ask for galoshes. A few hours before leaving the ‘‘bloc,’’ my coat had been rudely yanked off my back by one of the ‘‘bloc’’ captains. I had to shiver for hours, out under the clear starlit sky, waiting for my turn to enter the shower rooms. All I was looking forward to was having another coat. Almost all the women had their coats seized before leaving the ‘‘bloc’’ and it seemed inconceivable, after a hot shower, that we should be handed only cotton underclothes and a dress; no stockings, no sweater, no coat. I inherited a two-piece affair, a light beige skirt, part wool, and a pink cotton machine-made pullover with a short zipper down the front, and then was sent out under the shaded camp light to sew on my new prison number. Soon after the early siren, we left the camp. I begged God never to let me see it again. We were full of hope as our long column wound its way to the waiting box cars at Fürstenberg. But this time there was no straw and we were obliged to sit on the cold dirty floor. We had two armed guards, elderly soldiers of the Wehrmacht, who established their bulky persons in the midst of us, seated on a couple of empty crates. They were kind enough and jolly, but they were licentious old men, who appeared to enjoy the overcrowded conditions of the box car. Our trip this time was a short one, and we reached our destination the following morning shortly before noon. We had asked our guards where we were going and what our work was to be, but they wouldn’t tell us. Of one thing we were certain, we couldn’t be unhappier any place than we had been at Ravensbrück. It was impossible to see out of the car as the doors had been shut, but when the train stopped, we were deafened by the din of airplane motors at very close range. We stood in suspense, listening and waiting, when suddenly the doors were shoved back. The vision was far from encouraging ; huge green sheds which were airplane hangars; the vast terrain of an aviation field; a miserable grey sky through which planes zoomed at low altitudes, and that which held the most significance of all for us, a long line of dump cars on the far side of the field. We sensed what our work was to be, and we became silent.1 Now, we were being ordered out. We climbed stiffly down and lined up on the paved road that ran parallel with the railroad siding. Everything was ugly and bare. There was not even a tree, only stubby grass and dull grey sand. As we advanced, we could see for the first time what lay on the other side of the track. There, in the near distance, appeared a concentrated group of buildings not unlike a college campus. As we approached, we could count twelve or fifteen large two-storied frame structures, built in regular formation around an open rectangular area. They were slateroofed and painted dark green. With their white window facings and broad steps I found them rather attractive. A few had stone porches with great square stone columns supporting the overhanging second stories. All were charmingly landscaped with lawns and beds of bushes and evergreens , while paved roads ran around and across the great rectangular confine. We skirted the back of the camp, turning abruptly to cross the far end of it and to stumble down a rough dirt path which gradually led us from the high ground of this stronghold of Nazi power and pride, down into the mire and misery of our prison camp. I have...

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