Ravensbruck: the Experiments Begin

“Imogen?” The raspiness of Martine’s voice as she whispered was almost inaudible – fear rising in her throat to the point of suffocating her vocal chords. And still, she had no idea where her older sister was. A terrifying reality had befallen them both, and she knew it – she had known it from the moment her mother had subjected them to Heinrich’s gaze. Lurching forward in her bunk, Martine’s eyes frantically tore at the darkness. Where was she? Did they take her again? Will this be the last time? It was a feeling she knew that many of the others in the room with her felt – and often, but this time it belonged to her because it was her sister whose bunk lie empty while all the others – at least those with living occupants, were full.

“Shut up, Martine!” Came a low whisper from the bunk nearest hers. It came from the one person that Martine had come to trust aside from Imogen – Svenka. The one key difference between Martine, Imogen and Svenka – was that neither Martine nor Imogen was actually Jewish while Svenka’s family happened to be Jewish Poles – Martine often wondered why they had all wound up at Dachau despite these key differences.

“Svenka, Imogen is gone.” Martine murmured, her terror evident in the sound of her voice.

“And if you aren’t quiet we may be next.” Svenka advised, “You know the last two sets of twins died and your sister has seemed to respond the best to their treatments.” Martine gulped slightly – her biggest fear was being separated from Imogen, and she had noticed the frequent absences that seemed to be happening almost nightly now. This was just another reason for Martine to be alarmed.

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad,” Martine whispered, “To be dead like those twins. It almost seems like it would be a release.” She remarked. Svenka shook her head.

“Perhaps, but you need to remember that there are fates much worse than death.” Svenka stated, “It could be like my family – separated. I think my mother and sister are in Ravensbrück.” She said. Martine’s expression crumpled up – like a piece of balled up paper – evidence of the turmoil Svenka’s words was causing her.

“The women’s prison?” Martine asked. 'Oh, god – what if they send Imogen there? What if they send me there?'

“There is no way of knowing for sure. Some days, I think maybe imagining there are other camps makes it easier.” She muttered, “Maybe one day someone will come and save us all and we can be together again.”

“But, if you have heard the name it must exist. Mustn’t it? Ravensbrück, that is?” Martine asked – talking on as she was with Svenka made it easier to distract her mind, but she knew they still needed to keep things quiet. If any of the guards heard them they would both be beaten – or worse. Especially, if it were Victor Heinrichson who happened to be on duty for their barracks. The Monster, as she and Svenka often referred to him – mostly because of his insatiable appetite for violating young women, particularly those who had only recently come into their seasons, as Svenka dubbed menstruation. Thankfully, Martine had been shrouded well by her elder sister who took on the brunt of the abuse – though it didn’t completely shelter Martine from knowing the reality of what that meant.

“I don’t know. I’m hopeful,” she said hushed, “My sister is very outspoken, and I fear she is likely dead because of it. The Monster is only one of the beasts of this war – there are surely countless others.” Martine sighed uncomfortably, easing back into her bunk as she pulled her threadbare blanket up to her chin.

“Did I ever tell you the story of how Himmler first saw us?” Martine asked.

“No, and I don’t want you to. I’m sure it was horrible.”

“Not as horrible as the doctor. The doctor is the worst.” Martine muttered. Svenka shook her head.

“Please, don’t talk about the doctor,” Svenka’s eyes flickered across the room as a rustling sound perked her ears, “Hurry, lie down.” She whispered. Martine tucked herself deeper into the bunk, the blanket still as high as she could bring it over her face. The midsummer air made it warmer in the dormitory, but in the wintertime, Martine knew the threadbare blanket would be utterly useless for the bitter cold, and yet, for the moment it was the only tangible shield she had. The door opened slightly, allowing a tiny ribbon of light to slither through the crack.

“Make way back to your bunk, now!” the guard muttered as he pushed a figure through the door – Martine’s eyes widened as she immediately noticed the faint white outline of her sister’s platinum locks, “Straight to your bunk!” he bellowed. Imogen quietly walked to the bunk and crawled inside and the sound of the door slamming echoed throughout the dorm.

“Where were you?” Martine whispered as she looked down at her sister. Imogen’s back was to her and the faint outline of her white and greying prisoner uniform was only slightly visible in the moonlight that shot through the cracks in the walls.