If you smile three times in the morning when you're sober ... E-Book

Karin Krebs

• Herausgeber: novum pro Verlag
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 724

Beschreibung

After spending a carefree time in the Reich Labor Service in Silesia, young Christel comes to Rathenow at the beginning of the 1940s for war relief service without ever seeing her family again. There she married her superior Walter and had a daughter with him. Despite hunger and war, Christel leads a largely tranquil life. But then the Russians invade the idyllic small town and Christel is raped. The war is over, but a martyrdom begins for Christel. She makes a momentous decision ... The story of this extraordinary woman is based on true events.

Leseprobe

If you smile three times in the morning when you're sober ...

January 1942 - October 1942

Tuesday, January 27, 1942 - Breslau

Christel snuggled deep into her comforter once more. She turned onto her back and pulled the comforter up to the tip of her nose. She enjoyed the warmth and coziness. She was normally an early riser, but today she found it difficult to get out of bed when the alarm went off. It was gloomy and cold outside - in keeping with the atmosphere that she would expect at her workplace as usual. Donna Tschöppe, her boss, was very strict and not satisfied with anything. She was constantly finding fault with her employees. This short, plump Italian woman was quarrelsome and envious. Christel was a particular thorn in her side. She had to clean from morning to night and clean up after her colleagues. Sweeping up hair, cleaning mirrors, cleaning combs. Not much of an incentive to start the day.

Sighing, she threw back the comforter. It was no use, she had to get up. There would only be trouble if she was late. She slipped into her slippers and pulled on her robe. A glance at the bed at the other end of the room told her that her little brother Günter, with whom she shared a room, was still fast asleep. He was eight years younger than Christel and she adored the boy. Smiling, she approached his bed and gently stroked his cheek with her index finger. "Wake up, you little rascal," she whispered tenderly, "the night is over, you have to go to school. Come on, get up!" He slowly opened one eye and blinked at her. "Isn't today Sunday?" he asked sleepily.

"No, my darling, we only have one Sunday a week - and that was the day before yesterday," she replied with a laugh. "Now come on, move your butt." She gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and left the room.

When she came into the kitchen, her mother was standing at the stove pouring milk from a saucepan into a large cup. Christel went to her, wrapped an arm around her mother's waist from behind and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. "Good morning, dear little mother," she greeted cheerfully. The plump woman squeaked. "Don't do that, Christel, you know very well that I don't like it. It gives me the creeps." Her tone was more affectionate than stern. "Sit down, the cocoa's nice and hot."

"Oh, there's cocoa? With milk?" Christel was delighted. Food was strictly rationed and only available with cards. It was therefore very rare that there was cocoa with milk. It was bordering on a feast. Well, at least a festive breakfast.

"It's freezing cold outside. The hot chocolate will do you good and give you strength for the day," explained her mother. She pressed the cup into Christel's hand. Christel sat down at the table and looked dreamily out of the window. They lived on the second floor of an apartment building in Breslau. Normally, she could see the neighbor's house and the top of a beech tree from where she was sitting. But now it was pitch black outside. All she could see was her own reflection. It was toasty warm in the kitchen, although the coal was also rationed. Christel would have preferred to stay at home. However, she didn't even dare to entertain the idea. Her sense of duty and perhaps also a little fear of her father prevented her from doing so.

"Mum, will you do my hair? You always do it so beautifully," she asked her mother.

"Yeah, sure. Come on, sit up straighter. Did you wake Günter?" Her mother took the brush from the drawer under the kitchen table. She began to brush her daughter's shoulder-length, dark blonde hair in even strokes.

"Of course. He'll be here soon. Although he'd probably prefer it to be Sunday," Christel replied to her mother's question.

"Well, I hope he doesn't fall asleep again," she replied. "Now please hold still. You're an old fidget," she reprimanded as she pinned her hair back in waves with little strands.

"Mum, do you remember how you used to braid my hair? You didn't want me to have them cut for a long time. You always said, 'After the Jugendweihe'."

Of course her mother remembered this. Even then, she didn't want to admit that her daughter was slowly growing up. "Goodness, that was a long time ago," she said, shaking her head. "You're now 18 years old. You'll be 19 in March and another two months later, you'll be far away from us. I can't even think about it," she sighed.

"Mum, don't start that again," said Christel, annoyed. "I'll be fine, believe me," she promised.

In May, she would be sent to Ratibor for the Reich Labor Service. Christel was looking forward to it. She had an exciting time ahead of her. For the first time in her life, she would be traveling alone on the train. It would also be the first time she would be separated from her family, but she didn't mind. On the contrary - it was exactly what attracted her to the whole thing. For her, it was the first step into the life of an adult. "Ouch, not so hard!" she complained when her mother yanked a little too hard on her hair. "You're hurting me!"

"Yes, that's all right, don't be so squeamish. It wasn't that bad," her mother replied. "I was distracted," she then apologized to take the edge off her words.

"Thank God you're not a hairdresser. I should allow myself to do that. Pulling a customer's hair too hard just because I'm thinking. I think Tschöppe would throw me out of her salon before the customer could complain," laughed Christel.

"Yes, very true. I'm not a hairdresser. But you are. And that's why you can be glad that I do your hair and not you me. So please don't complain, missy," her mother scolded in an angry tone.

"What has distracted you so much, if I may ask?" Christel inquired curiously.

"I couldn't help thinking that you'll soon be so far away from home. I'm dreading letting you go. So many questions are running through my mind. How will you be there? Will you be treated well? Will you be happy?" Tears welled up in her eyes. It broke her heart not to be able to be there for Christel when she was plagued by worries or fears and had no one she could confide in.

Christel rolled her eyes. "Oh, mummy. Don't be like that. You share your fate with a thousand other mothers," she reproached her. Her mother quickly swallowed her tears. "Yes, you're right. That's how I have to see it," she agreed. "Now let me look at you," she asked, looking at Christel's face. "You look pretty."

"Thank you so much, Mum!" Christel jumped up and gave her mother a big hug.

"It's okay, you're welcome," her mother whispered. "Please don't forget that we have to go to the club tonight. You know it's Dad's turn to entertain the men from his singing club today. So please don't dawdle around after work and come home quickly. We'll go over together. And now make sure you get to the bathroom. Off you go!"

Christel's father was a member of the local choral society and occasionally had to serve the audience at festivities. Christel and her mother helped him serve the drinks and Günter collected the empty glasses.

Christel walked towards the bathroom, but stopped at the door and turned around. Suddenly she felt sorry for her mother. She could understand that she was worried. "Don't be sad, Mummy. I'll be fine, believe me. You know I have no problems dealing with new situations and making friends. As many times as we've moved ... Everything will be fine!" With that, she went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

When she came back washed and with her teeth brushed, Günter was already sitting at the breakfast table. She had to laugh when she looked at her brother. His hair was sticking out of his head in all directions and his eyelids were still at half-mast. She quickly tousled his head and went back to her room to get dressed. After lacing up her boots, she pulled on her winter coat, wrapped her scarf around her neck and put on her woolly hat. She quickly slipped on her woollen mittens, called a quick "Goodbye!" over her shoulder and left the apartment. In the stairwell, she always took two steps down at once. When she opened the front door, an icy cold wind blew against her and took her breath away. She would have to walk fast if she didn't want to arrive in the living room frozen stiff. Thank goodness she didn't have far to go. She would be back in the warm in about ten minutes.

It had snowed during the night. The snow was up to her knees and it was exhausting to trudge through the powdery masses. The janitor was already shoveling the sidewalks, but hadn't gotten very far yet. He merely returned her greeting with a brief nod of his head. As she trudged through the high snowdrifts, she thought about her upcoming journey. Ratibor was in Upper Silesia, about 170 km from Breslau near the Czech border. The train ride there would take several hours. She was so excited. Only three months to go - she could hardly wait.

Ten hours later, Christel swept up the last of the hair. A colleague had unexpectedly called in sick and Christel had to stand in for her. But as exhausting as the day had been, it had fulfilled Christel. She hadn't been this satisfied for a long time. Many customers had praised her and Christel soaked up this recognition like a sponge. She went into the back room to get her coat. Her colleague Maria was just lacing up her boots. "Thank you again, Christel, you've been an angel once more. I could never have done it all without you. The fact that Greta had to be ill today of all days ... She was already blowing her nose constantly on Saturday. I'm actually not surprised that she's really ill now. With the temperatures! That would knock a polar bear out."

"You're right about that. It's time for summer," Christel confirmed. She gave Maria a quick hug goodbye and quickly put on her coat, scarf, hat and gloves. "I have to hurry. My father has to entertain the 'choirboys' again today. As usual, I have to help and I'm quite late. It's a shame they're all just old men..." she said, rolling her eyes. "Goodbye, Maria, see you tomorrow!" She didn't wait for Maria's greeting and hurried out of the salon.

It was already dark outside and the snow glistened golden in the light of the street lamps. Wintertime was not for Christel. She left home in the dark in the morning and returned in the dark in the evening. She needed light and sunshine, then she was happy. But it would be quite a while before she was happy again. Moping about it didn't occur to her, however. She began to sing softly to herself and the closer she got to home, the louder she sang.

"So cheerful today, Christel?" the neighbor across the street called out to her as she was putting her garbage out the door.

"Yes, Mrs. Schlegel, I'll sing the darkness away." She waved cheerfully to the old lady, put her house key in the lock, opened the door and disappeared into the entrance a second later.

"You're late," her mother said quietly but reproachfully. "What's been going on? You know Dad's waiting for you," she whispered. "He's already asked for you several times." Her mother had put on her boots and was just about to put on her coat. Christel was startled. She knew she was late, but had blocked it out. Until just now, she was sure that the reason for her lateness was powerful enough to appease her father. However, there was a risk that she would not be able to come up with an explanation. Suddenly she felt hot. "Oh dear, did he scold me?" she asked anxiously. The happiness she had just felt and the joy of today were destroyed in one fell swoop. She was familiar with her father's outbursts of anger and could do without them. "I took over all of Greta's customers today because she had called in sick. It's so rare that I get the chance to serve customers," she explained, hoping that her mother would stand by her as usual.

"I see. Well - today of all days. Go on, maybe Dad hasn't heard you yet," was her mother's only comment. She pushed Christel towards the door. "Come on, hurry up," she whispered, "It's better if Daddy doesn't see you here. He can't give free rein to his anger in the clubhouse." But it was too late. Her father was already standing in the hallway and shouted: "What took you so long? You have no discipline! You're disobedient and stubborn!" With two long strides, he was at Christel. He took a swing and hit her across the face with the back of his hand. Christel flinched and cried out. A sharp pain cut through her nose. Tears welled up in her eyes and the world seemed to spin. Warm blood ran into her mouth. It tasted of iron. Her father had used his right hand - the hand with the signet ring on the middle finger.

"It's time for you to join the labor service!" he continued to shout at her. "They'll show you the ropes there. They'll teach you discipline and order, you naughty brat!"

Christel cried. The day had been so beautiful and now her father had to ruin everything. The pain in her nose spread to her forehead. "But Dad, I had to take over Greta's customers today," she sobbed.

"Hush! Not another word! I don't want to hear your ridiculous excuses! I've had enough of you!" With a calmness that didn't match his outburst, he took his hat from the rack and put on his coat and gloves.

"But Waldemar, it's not her fault," her mother tried to insist. "She wasn't dawdling, she was working."

"Hogwash." Her father waved his hand as if he could chase away his wife's words. "We're just wasting our time here. It's getting later and later. Surely all the guests have already arrived. Here, wipe your nose clean, how does that look?" He handed Christel a cloth handkerchief. "Now stop crying and get out of here." With these words, he opened the door and left.

"How do I look, Mum? Can you see anything?" asked Christel desperately.

"Let's have a look. Come on, we need to wash the blood off. Thank God your lip hasn't split like last time." A small consolation. She went into the kitchen and returned a minute later with a damp washcloth. She carefully dabbed the blood from Christel's face. "Oh, my poor Christel." Shaking her head, her mother looked at her. "Now come on, let's go before things get any worse."

Wednesday, January 28, 1942

Christel tiptoed out of the room so as not to wake Günter. It was very early in the morning and he still had some time before he had to go to school. Christel knew that he had had a restless night. He had probably had a bad dream, because he tossed and turned in his bed, which kept waking Christel up. When she got up in the middle of the night to check on him, he was drenched in sweat. She blamed it on his dreams and tried to calm him down. When she stroked his face, he relaxed and turned onto his side, but didn't wake up. Christel was glad that he had now found peace. She suspected that he was finally sleeping deeply and dreamlessly.

When she came into the kitchen, her mother was already sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of hot country coffee in front of her. She looked up with a sad expression when she saw Christel. "Oh Christel, my dear, are you up already? Come and sit with me. We don't have to talk, I just want to feel you. Enjoy your closeness a little. It won't last long. How's your nose? Does it still hurt?" She looked at Christel's face scrutinizingly. Christel sat down next to her mother and cuddled her head against her upper arm. "Yes, a little, but not bad," she answered the question. She slowly stroked her mother's arm and said: "Oh, Mum, I can't bear it when you're so sad. You only make it difficult for me, you know?" There was a slight reproach in her voice. "Where's that confident attitude of yours now? You never miss an opportunity to tell me that I should never lose my sense of humor and always see everything in a positive light, but you can't do it yourself. You're my great role model, Mummy." She got up and took a cup from the cupboard. She opened the door to the pantry and took out the tin of country coffee. As she scooped a teaspoon of the brown powder into her cup, she looked briefly at her mother. "You look like three days of rainy weather. What can I cheer you up with?"

"Oh no, it'll be fine," her mother promised. "It's just all a bit much at once. The war, my little girl who's suddenly grown up and has to leave. I don't know what else is coming, that's all."

"Oh, Mum, nobody knows that. And you didn't know before either. Just think about when you suddenly found out you were pregnant. You didn't know what you were in for either."

"Yes, but firstly, there was no war and secondly, I wasn't alone. I had your father."

"You've got it now too," Christel replied. "And Günter is here too. You're not alone, Mummy."

"No, not me. I'm not the one I'm worried about either, Christel. It'syou. It'syouI'm worried about."

"Yes, I know, Mum, but you don't need that. Besides, it's still three months away. And I'm really looking forward to everything that's coming. To the new comrades and the morning exercises and the morning call and the work. Maybe I'll join a farmer and learn how to milk cows. Isn't that exciting?" Christel beamed at her mother. It did Hildegard good to see her daughter so cheerful and in such a good mood. It gave her the strength she needed to get through the separation from her. Christel put the cup in the sink and set off for work.

Günter woke up in a cold sweat. His throat hurt and he felt hot and weak. Wild dreams had plagued him all night and he tossed and turned from side to side. He was thirsty but couldn't find the strength to get up to go to the kitchen. He longed for a glass of water. He heard his mother calling to him from the kitchen: "Günter, get up! You have to go to school!" Günter didn't answer. "Günter!" his mother called again. To no avail. He felt too weak even to answer. Again and again he dozed off into a light, restless sleep. As if from afar, he suddenly heard his father's voice. "Günter, you have to get up. Come on now, boy. What's wrong with you? You didn't drink the leftovers from the glasses yesterday, did you?" Waldemar stepped up to his son's bed, but Günter barely noticed him. "Son, don't be silly!" His father slowly began to worry. He gently patted Günter's cheek. "My God, Hildegard!" he called over his shoulder towards the door, "Hildegard, come quickly. I think Günter has a fever!" He leaned over the bed. "Good God, you're burning up!" He tenderly stroked his son's sweaty hair from his forehead. "Don't worry, little one. I'll get a doctor straight away. He'll help you."

In the meantime, Hildegard had also come to the bedside. "Oh, little Günter. What's wrong with you? Don't give me any grief, boy!" She felt his forehead anxiously. "I'll make you some cold compresses. You have a fever, we have to bring it down," she said firmly. "And you," she addressed Waldemar, "make sure you get the doctor here. Christel has already left. I suspect it's not just a cold. There's more to it than that." She was proved right.

The doctor examined Günter thoroughly and, shaking his head, said: "I'm afraid I'll have to admit him to hospital, Mr. Weidner. We'll wait for today and tonight and see how he feels tomorrow. With any luck it will only be a short fever, but I don't like him. I'll be back tomorrow morning at 9:00. Until then, give him this. One tablet right now and one tonight. It's a light sleeping pill. It will help him rest a little and bring down the fever. Keep applying cold compresses to his calves, Mrs. Weidner, it's good for him and will help him," he ordered. "All the best, see you tomorrow. Heil Hitler."

"Goodbye, doctor. And thank you very much. I'll see you out. Heil Hitler."

As soon as his father had left the room with the doctor, Günter reared up. "I feel sick," he croaked, "I think I'm going to throw up." His body cramped up. He retched. His mother quickly gave him the bedspread that Günter had carelessly thrown on the floor next to the bed when he went to sleep the night before. "You can spit on this if you can't hold it in any longer. I'll get a bucket quickly." She ran into the kitchen. Günter coughed and retched, but his stomach was empty. This made the vomiting spasms even more painful. Panting, he put his head back in the pillow. He was getting worse by the minute. His mother came back with the bucket and was about to put it next to the bed when Günter retched again. She quickly lifted the bucket in front of his face. He vomited a little bile in agony. His mother stroked his head worriedly. Suddenly Günter started to freeze. His whole body trembled. "Mum, do I have to die?" he asked miserably.

"No, my boy, you don't die that quickly. It's just a chill, it won't kill you. Try to get some more sleep. Here, take the tablet the doctor left." She held out a pill and a glass of water she had brought from the kitchen. He could hardly swallow the pill because his throat hurt so much. But he bravely choked it down with a few small sips of water and then snuggled deep into his blanket. His mother lovingly tucked the blanket under his body, kissed him on his sweaty forehead and quietly left the room.

Thursday, January 29, 1942

Christel was already at work when the doctor rang at 9.00 a.m. on the dot. He went straight to Günter's room. "How is he today, Mrs. Weidner?" he asked Hildegard, who had opened the door for him with concern.

"Not good at all, doctor. I'm very worried about the boy. He's broken. His fever has risen and he's suffering from chills." Günter was awake when the doctor entered the room.

"How are you feeling, boy?" asked the doctor.

"My throat hurts so much," Günter moaned. "I can't swallow properly," he added.

"Let's have a look. Open your mouth and Aaaaahhhh," the doctor ordered. The throat was deep red. The doctor palpated the lymph nodes, which were clearly swollen. "Yes, Mrs. Weidner, I'm sorry, but I have to admit your son to the hospital. Everything indicates that he has scarlet fever," was his unpleasant diagnosis. Hildegard shuddered, "Oh dear. Scarlet fever? But - I thought only the little ones get it?"

"It mostly affects the younger ones, you're quite right, Ms. Weidner, but unfortunately the older ones aren't immune either. I'll send for an ambulance immediately. I'd appreciate it if you could go with him. Do you have any way of contacting your husband?" he asked.

"He comes home around noon. He's on the early shift. He checks on the train, you know? I'll leave him a note, then he'll know." The doctor left the room.

Hildegard quickly looked for a clean pair of pyjamas from the wardrobe, got a fresh towel and washcloth, grabbed Günter's toothbrush, toothpaste and comb and put everything together in a bag, which she placed in the hallway. She had just had time to write a quick note for her husband when the ambulance pulled up outside the house. Two paramedics came with a stretcher and showed them the way to Günter's room. When they had taken him into the ambulance, she got in too, sat next to her son and held his hand for the whole journey.

At the clinic, Günter was immediately separated from her and taken to an examination room.

"Are you the mother?" asked a nurse.

"Yes, Weidner. This is my son Günter. He's already 10 years old. The doctor says it might be scarlet fever. Isn't he too old for that?" Unfortunately, the nurse's answer was no different to that of the GP. "No, Mrs. Weidner, I'm afraid I have to disappoint you. It often affects older children too. But it's not certain yet. Please sit down on one of the chairs in front. The doctor on duty will come and talk to you as soon as he has finished his examinations." The nurse pointed to a row of chairs in the hospital corridor. Hildegard didn't want to sit down. She was far too excited for that. She paced nervously up and down the corridor. After half an hour, the door to the examination room opened and a short, stocky man with nickel glasses and a Hitler moustache approached her. "Mrs. Weidner?" he asked. Hildegard immediately went to meet him. "Heil Hitler," greeted the doctor. He had a nasal, relatively high-pitched voice for a man and despite the adverse circumstances and her concern for Günter, Hildegard struggled to stifle a smile. "All we can do at the moment is wait and see how the symptoms develop. The fever has risen and her throat is very red. If a rash develops by tomorrow and he gets the raspberry tongue typical of scarlet fever, we'll know for sure. But we already have to assume that this is scarlet fever. He is therefore admitted to the isolation ward. There is nothing more for you to do here. Please go home and come back tomorrow. We'll know more then." With that, he left her and hurried away. Hildegard had no choice but to leave Günter to his fate and drive home. She went to the streetcar stop and took the streetcar back.

When she opened the front door, Waldemar came to meet her. "Dear God, Hildegard, what's happened? What's wrong with our boy?" he asked anxiously.

"They suspect scarlet fever. I was sent home and told to come back tomorrow. I feel so sorry for him. I would have preferred to stay with him." Hildegard took off her coat and hung it on the coat rack.

"There's nothing else we can do. Then we'll just have to wait and see. I'll come with you tomorrow. We'll go to him as early as possible. It's best if we take the first streetcar," Waldemar promised. He added thoughtfully: "If it really is scarlet fever, he won't be able to go back to school any time soon. That this had to happen now of all times, in his first year at secondary school. What a shame. I hope he doesn't miss too many lessons." Hildegard looked at her husband reproachfully. "So Waldemar, really. I don't care one bit at the moment whether he misses too much school or not. First and foremost, I want him to get better."

"I want that too. But it's still important that he doesn't stay away from school. Secondary school is hard enough as it is. If he drops out for too long, he'll lose touch. His future depends on it."

"Yes, of course, but it can't be helped now," Hildegard replied and went into the living room. "Will you go to school and let them know?" she called to her husband, who had stopped in the hallway, undecided.

"Yes, yes, I'll be on my way straight away," he replied. "A little walk in the fresh air will do me good." With these words, he put on his coat, hat and gloves and left the apartment.

Sunday, May 03, 1942 - Ratibor

The train stopped at the station in Ratibor with loudly squealing brakes. On the long journey, Christel had already made friends with four other work maids, as they would soon be called. As soon as the train left Breslau, they realized that they had the same destination. Five young women between the ages of 18 and 22 - and they all had a small, brown suitcase as luggage. Christel had simply approached them and asked if they would like to get together. She was met with spontaneous enthusiasm, as none of the four had much desire to travel the long distance without company. They were all equally excited. None of them knew what to expect. Each of the young women had already had experience with the Bund deutscher Mädel, but none of them had any real idea of what it would be like in the Reich Labor Service. Ruth did have an older sister who had been in the RAD for a few months and wrote her a letter every now and then. But who knew whether the procedures were the same in all the camps. Christel doubted that everything was as Ruth said it was. At least she hoped that at most half of it was true. If Ruth's sister was to be believed, the Reich Labor Service consisted only of learning, drill and hard, physical work. In the little time you had free, you had to do your private laundry and could at most steal a few minutes to write a letter home. Christel nevertheless tried to go to the camp without prejudice. "I don't think it's going to be sooooo bad," she remarked after Ruth had read a letter from her sister out loud.

"And I don't think my sister is making anything up. Why would she do that?" Ruth was a little miffed that Christel was so indifferent to her sister's drastic descriptions. After all, her sister had to know.

"I'm not saying it's not true. I just think that everyone will feel differently. Personally, I'm looking forward to country life. Just imagine! The country air, the hay, the cows. Maybe they have pigs - I love pigs," Christel enthused. Dora, who hadn't said much so far, spoke up. "Well, I'll just let it come to me. We don't even know if we'll get to a farmer yet." She was a year older than Christel and a head shorter than her. She had cut her blonde hair short and it curled at the nape of her neck and over her ears. Her stature reminded Christel of her boss. She was just as short and a little chubby. But unlike Tschöppe, Dora had a very pleasant charisma.

"Where else would we go?" Magdalene asked. She looked very serious and hadn't laughed once during the whole journey. Christel would have liked to know what could have happened to her to make her so cheerless. "Habergrund consists almost entirely of farms," Magdalene added.

"You're right about that. It's obvious. But I don't really care," explained Christel. "First and foremost, I'm just happy to get away from home," she confided to the girls.

"Why - weren't you happy at home?" Magdalene asked in amazement. As cheerful as Christel looked, she couldn't imagine that she couldn't have been happy with her parents.

"Yes, of course," Christel replied immediately. "Very much so. I come from a good family and I didn't want for anything," she affirmed. "But my father is very strict. At least with me. And above all, I'm really glad I don't have to work in the hairdressing salon anymore."

"So what? My father doesn't exactly treat me with kid gloves either," interjected Paula, the fifth member of the group. She was tall and slim. Her brunette hair was loosely combed back and held in place by a small brown barrette. "But that's why he loves me anyway."

"Well, when my father shows me loving feelings, he's a master at hiding them. You can take my word for it." Christel laughed. "My little brother, on the other hand, he spoils him rotten," she continued. "But I don't hold it against him. On the contrary, I can understand it. After all, I don't do it any differently myself. But the little one is just too cute," she enthused.

"Oh, you have a little brother? How old is he?" asked Paula.

"He'll be eleven on May 18," Christel told me. "And when he looks at me with his loyal puppy dog eyes, I can't help but fulfill his every wish. You just can't be angry with him, even if he does something wrong. And he often does things, believe me. The little rascal takes all hearts by storm and wraps everyone around his finger."

"You seem to like him a lot," Ruth said. "Oh yes, I love him more than anything," Christel confirmed with a smile.

When the train finally came to a halt and the conductor opened the door, the five girls quickly climbed down the steps with their suitcases and jumped onto the platform. Dora looked around the largely empty station. "Aren't we being picked up?" she asked, putting her suitcase down. "It's quite a long way to the camp," she said, pointing to a sign that read "RAD Lager 6/53 Lindenhof 12 km".

"That's the first lesson we're taught," Magdalene remarked. "If you're not sporty, you're straight to the bottom and won't make it anyway. Then they'll send you away again."

"But she's right," Paula joined in with Dora's moaning. "It's unbelievable what they're putting us through. I'm sporty, but such a long distance and then with luggage ... It's too much even for me."

"You call that luggage? We have a small suitcase with underwear. I'm sure you don't have much more with you," Magdalene countered.

"Oh my! I don't know what's wrong with you all. It could have been worse. The sun is shining, it's warm and it's not raining," Christel tried to comfort her new comrades. "Just imagine if we had to run through the rain on muddy roads. Then you'll see how well we're doing and it'll be easier for you, you'll see."

"All right, let's go then," Ruth agreed. The companions took their suitcases and made their way to the camp together.

Monday, May 04, 1942

As if from afar, a shrill whistle penetrated her consciousness and woke her from her deep sleep. At first, she didn't know where she was. She only gradually became aware of the excited voices of the other girls around her. Suddenly she remembered. Today was the start of her "honorary service to the German people", as it was called. She lived in Camp 6/53 Lindenhof in the Kreuzenort area, where she was housed with around 50 other labor maids.

Christel thought the camp was beautiful. It consisted of several two-storey buildings with the dormitories, which the girls shared six at a time, as well as the main house and annexe and some smaller outbuildings. The main building housed the dining hall, the kitchen and the camp leaders' offices. To her delight, Christel had discovered a piano at the back of the dining hall during the tour of the camp. There was also a recreation room where you could retire to write letters or listen to the radio. The Lindenhof estate was spacious and beautifully situated in the middle of the countryside. Christel was convinced that she would feel at home here. She shared her room with the other four girls she had already met on the train and Gerda, an inconspicuous and shy 18-year-old who had arrived a day earlier. There were three bunk beds next to each other in the room. On the opposite side were six wooden lockers where the girls could store their uniforms and personal clothing.

The whistle that had woken her up called for morning exercise. Christel quickly hopped off her cot and slipped into her shorts, pulled on her sports shorts and slipped into her sneakers. She barely had time to tie her shoelaces in peace.

"Hurry up, Christel, the others are already outside and lining up!" urged Ruth. She was sleeping in the bunk bed above Christel and had hardly slept a wink all night due to her excitement. Now she stood next to Christel and waited impatiently for her.

Outside, the girls had already lined up in rows of three to set off on a long run together across the meadows. Christel expected to be reprimanded by the leader for her lateness, but she was not reprimanded. With Ruth at her side, she joined the rest of the maidens and waited to see what would happen next. The leader looked at the girls briefly, then shouted with her right arm stretched forward: "Heil Hitler!"

"Heil Hitler!" the girls replied loudly in chorus and 50 arms shot forward. At the command of the leader, they finally started to move slowly. They walked a short distance along the wide main road, which wound its way through the entire camp, before turning off onto a muddy dirt track. They continued across a wide meadow and curved back. Christel felt fit. It suited her to get moving early in the morning. Ruth, who was running alongside her, felt differently. "Oh my God, I can't stand it. Is it going to be like this every morning?" she gasped.

"You need to pull yourself together a bit, Ruth. Today's the first day and you're already moaning. Besides, we won't be running every morning. We'll probably do gymnastics too, which won't be quite so strenuous," Christel tried to encourage her new friend.

"My feet still hurt from yesterday. Twelve kilometers on foot. I'm not a nomad." Christel had to laugh at the last comment. If she was honest, she wasn't that keen on walking either. She preferred cycling. But she also knew that complaining wouldn't help her. So she tried to follow her mother's advice and always look on the bright side. "Don't complain. After six months, we'll be in such good shape that nothing can knock us down," she promised.

When they arrived back in front of the main house ten minutes later, Christel felt fresh and ready for the day.

"Up, up, wash yourselves, quickly but thoroughly! Then make your beds. You'll be ready for inspection in ten minutes. Hurry up!", ordered the leader of the team loudly.

The girls went into the shower room together. It consisted of two areas. In the middle, it was divided by a wall about one and a half meters high, with twelve washbasins on either side. There were five showers to the left and right of the room. On the wall to the left of the entrance door, there was a notice board where you could sign in if you wanted to use the showers. At the other end of the shower room, a door led to the area with the toilets. As there weren't enough washbasins for everyone, the girls had to split up. While half of them quickly washed the sweat off their bodies, the others went to their rooms first to make their beds. They could only freshen up a little afterwards.

After Christel and Ruth had put on their cornflower-blue dresses, they hurried to make up their beds. Now they stood beside their cots, hearts pounding, waiting for the verdict of the guide, who entered the room without knocking. "Are you kidding me?" she shouted, "You call this clean and tidy?" She pointed to Ruth's bed and tore out the sheets. "Snappy and square, not round and wavy. You do that again. And neatly this time!" she scolded, looking down at Ruth with a stern expression. Although Ruth herself was already quite tall, the guide towered over her by a head-length. She looked very intimidating in her uniform. "The others to roll call," she called, turned on her heel and made her way to the other bedrooms. This gave Ruth time to remake her bed.

"Come on, I'll help you, it'll be quicker," Christel offered. "Didn't you learn that at the BdM?"

"No, I was only there on Wednesdays and Saturdays, when I didn't have to make any beds."

"Yes, that's how it was for me too. But my father made sure that I came here well prepared. Since my parents joined the party, he has placed even more emphasis on discipline and order. Especially with me," Christel sighed. "However, I have to admit that it's working in my favor now. I'm sure he only wanted the best for me. Unfortunately, I never felt that way, but it's slowly becoming clear to me that he didn't want to make my life harder, but rather easier. At least I hope so," she said with a smile. In her thoughts, she sent a heartfelt thank you to him in Breslau. It was all good for something after all - even his strictness, she thought.

When they had finished making up Ruth's bed neatly and accurately, they grabbed their aprons and headscarves as a precaution and went outside. They had no idea what would happen next. The routines were still unfamiliar and in some cases relatively unknown. The daily routine was clearly structured and followed a strict timetable. Although this was handed out to them when they arrived at the camp, they had not yet had time to memorize everything. When they were in the room together the evening before, they had agreed who should memorize what exactly. This meant that one of the companions always knew what to do next and what clothing was required, and told the others. They wanted to avoid any chaos. Over time, a certain routine would certainly develop. Soon everyone would know what to do and what clothes to wear and when. But until then, they had to rely on each other.

Together, they went outside for the roll call. Almost all the girls had already gathered there and formed a large circle around the tall flagpole. When the last of the girls arrived, the comradeship leader called out the Hitler salute and began to raise the flag. The working maids stood reverently around the pole. As if guided by an invisible hand, they all stretched out their right arm almost simultaneously in the German salute and began to sing:

"Germany, Germany above all

About everything in the world,

If it always protects and protects

Brotherly cohesion,

From the Meuse to the Memel,

From the Adige to the Belt -

Germany, Germany above all else,

About everything in the world.

The flags high, the ranks tightly closed ..."

It was a poignant moment. Christel got goose bumps and blinked away the tears that suddenly welled up in her eyes. She was a little ashamed of the emotion that suddenly possessed her. Out of the corner of her eye, she observed her companions next to her and realized that they seemed to feel the same way. It did her good to see this and she closed her eyes briefly. Even though she had six exhausting months ahead of her, she was looking forward to it. The solidarity and camaraderie she felt with the girls after such a short time was so overwhelming that she was no longer afraid of anything. She thought she was the happiest person in the world. Summer lay ahead of her and with it her entry into the adult world.

After the roll call, the girls dispersed and made their way to the dining hall, where a hearty breakfast awaited them. Christel was delighted when she discovered bread, butter and jam on the tables. She quickly sat down and hungrily buttered her sandwich.

Freshly fortified, they then tied on their aprons and poppy-red headscarves and lined up for the work schedule. There was something funny about the situation. The two leaders stood in front of the girls and tried to appear as authoritarian as possible, but they didn't completely succeed. The reason for this was Aja, the camp dog. He was a small fox terrier with beige-brown fur and jumped excitedly back and forth between the companion and the young leader. He jumped up at them and tried to lick their hands. This lightened the atmosphere considerably. Christel struggled to stifle a laugh. She didn't want to appear disrespectful and was desperately trying to keep her facial features under control. She bit her lower lip and breathed in and out slowly - in and out. Gradually, she relaxed and was glad when the young leader finally grabbed Aja by the collar and locked her in the laundry and ironing room, which was located in a small outbuilding next to the main house.

Christel was assigned to a farm together with her five roommates. The other maids were assigned to work in groups or individually on other farms and in families with many children. The six girls grabbed their bicycles and set off together for the field service. Originally, they were not supposed to go to the farmers on their first day, but were supposed to spend the first few weeks in the camp and be taught about the procedures and duties they had in the Reich Labor Service. But the farmers urgently needed the maids' help and there was important work to be done there for the Führer and the people. They were therefore only given a short briefing and were immediately sent out into the field.

Ruth was desperate. "I had hoped that I would join a large family to look after the children or help with the housework. I have absolutely no desire to do farm work. Who knows what awaits us there," said Ruth, panting as she cycled alongside Christel. "When I think of all the things my sister has written to me. Working on the farm must be terribly exhausting. I have to admit that I dread it immensely."

"Oh my! Don't let your sister influence you like that. You don't have to be given the same tasks as her. And if you do, then maybe you won't feel so bad. Everyone is different. Look on the bright side and look forward to the new experiences you can have. After all, you're learning for life and what doesn't kill us only makes us stronger," Christel replied. "So - grit your teeth and get through it, you can do it!"

"Sometimes you really get on my nerves with your oh-so-great attitude," Ruth said, not unkindly. "But I still like you."

After a few kilometers, they could already see from afar the farmstead where they would probably spend most of their days for the next six months. A clay road, wide enough for an ox cart, led straight towards a large, brick barn. To the left and right, the road was lined with thick picket fences. White and brown goats curiously poked their noses between the planks. They bleated loudly, probably hoping to be fed or at least stroked by the new arrivals. There was a wooden gate at the end of the road, which stood a little way open. Christel noticed a larger building with whitewashed walls behind it on the left-hand side - the main house or home of the farming family, Christel assumed.

She tried not to ride through the horse droppings that were scattered all over the path. She didn't feel like cleaning her bike in the evening. But she would have to do that if she wasn't careful. Otherwise, she would be in a bad position if the comradeship leader called for a bike roll call. When they arrived at the wooden gate blocking their way, they got off their bikes and looked around. Christel loved the smell of cow dung that hit her nose. She breathed in deeply and enjoyed this unfamiliar scent. She would like country life, she was sure of it.

In the yard, she spotted a young farmhand who was about to harness three workhorses to a potato cart. Christel estimated him to be in his mid-20's. He wasn't particularly tall, maybe 1.70 meters and slim. "Heil Hitler!" Christel greeted him in a friendly manner and opened the gate with her left hand while she tried to stop the bike from tipping over with her right.

"Heil Hitler!" the boy returned the greeting as he turned to her. He had short-cropped brown hair and the bluest eyes Christel had ever seen. They looked at each other for a few seconds and held each other's gaze. Christel felt the blush rise to her cheeks. She liked the young man straight away and it took her breath away a little when their eyes met. She lowered her eyelids, embarrassed because she didn't know where to look. Suddenly unsettled, she was grateful that she could hold on to the handlebars of her bike. Otherwise she might have started to play nervously with her hands. It was embarrassing enough that the young man made her feel so self-conscious and, to make matters worse, he seemed to notice.

"You must be the new work maids sent from the Lindenhof camp, right? They're already eagerly awaited." The boy smiled at her and came towards her. He helped her to open the gate wide enough for her to pass through comfortably on her bike. The five other girls parked their bikes in front of the gate by the picket fences on the left and followed her into the courtyard. "I'm Hans, by the way," the farmhand added and held out his hand to Christel.

"Oh, sorry, how rude of me. I didn't even introduce myself. My name is Christa, but everyone calls me Christel." She took his hand and shook it. Then she turned to her companions. One by one, she pointed her finger at the girls: "And these are Ruth, Dora, Paula, Magdalene and Gerda."

"Pleased to meet you," Hans replied. Christel could see that he couldn't remember any of the names. There was a short pause, during which neither of them really knew what to say. She frantically searched for words. "Do you work here?" she finally asked. 'Oh dear, what a stupid question,' she thought at the same moment, 'it's hard to beat that for embarrassment. "I mean, do you live here?" she added sheepishly. Her companions started to giggle. It was best she didn't say anything now, she would only make the situation worse. If that was even possible, her face turned even redder. Hans laughed: "Yes, I work here and yes, I live here too. My parents own the farm. I have a UK position, in case you're wondering why I'm not at the front." He nodded towards the house. "Make a quick note that you're here. In the meantime, I've harnessed the horses and one of you is coming out into the field with me. She has to help with sowing the potatoes. It's high time they were in the ground." With that, he got back to work and turned his back on Christel and her friends. It hadn't escaped Christel's notice that he had suddenly started calling her by her first name. 'He must think I'm a simple-minded young thing,' she thought. That was a nice start. Why did I push myself forward like that?" she asked herself silently. She should have let Ruth or Dora go first.

She was just about to walk towards the front door of the house when it opened and the farmer's wife stepped out. "Well, there you are. You're very welcome. I'm Elfriede Woitschek, you're welcome to call me Friedl, like everyone else." The farmer's wife was a head shorter than Christel and had a considerable girth. Her face was friendly and she wore a heavy, gray linen dress with a dirty apron. She had a dark blue scarf tied around her head. "Put your bike in front of the gate with the others," she told Christel. "Do any of you have any farming experience?" she asked the group. When none of the girls answered, she asked: "Have any of you ever helped to plant potatoes?" Again, everyone just looked at her with wide eyes. The farmer's wife groaned. "All right then. You, you, you and you go with my sister. She'll instruct you in your duties." She pointed her finger at Dora, Paula, Magdalene and Gerda and nodded to a tall, sturdy woman standing next to the barn door. "You go into the house and give the kitchen maid a hand," she instructed Ruth. Ruth acknowledged the order with a joyful cry. The relief was clearly written on her face. She could hardly believe her luck. Finally, the farmer's wife turned to Christel: "You go with us to the field and help plant the potatoes. The potato aprons are hanging on hooks next to the barn door. Take one and tie it around your neck. I'll explain what to do on the way. It has to be quick. The potatoes all have to go in the ground today," the farmer's wife announced with a nod in the direction of the potato cart.

'People don't bother with unnecessary pleasantries here,' Christel secretly observed. 'Country life is very different from life in the city, even in minor respects.

Friedl told Christel to climb onto the wagon. Christel didn't quite know where to step. The cart was full to the brim with sacks of potatoes. Friedl laughed with amusement as she watched Christel clumsily trying to sit down somewhere. She was afraid of hurting the potatoes. They were reasonably well protected by the sacks, but you never know.

"Don't be shy, just get on," Friedl urged her and climbed onto the wagon himself. Christel had not expected this. She assumed that the farmer's wife would sit on the coachman's seat next to Hans. She was pleasantly surprised when she sat down opposite her on the potatoes instead. She furtively scrutinized the farmer's wife through her half-lowered eyelids. She was probably younger than she had first appeared. Her facial skin was smooth and it was impossible to estimate her age.

"You're not going to fall asleep now, girl," said the farmer's wife with a critical look at Christel.

"Oh, no, no," she affirmed, "of course not. You wanted to explain to me what I have to do. I'm all ears."

"What are you?" the farmer's wife asked, puzzled. Christel laughed. "All ears - I mean to say that I'm willing to listen to you carefully," she explained politely. The farmer's wife shook her head uncomprehendingly at the city girl. "Now, listen carefully. I'm only going to explain this to you once." Friedl raised his index finger. "First you have to tie the apron. Look, the two ends are simply folded up and hung here, see? Like this." She took a corner of her own apron and tied it up. Christel immediately followed suit. She was amazed at how easy it was.

"And now to your work. The field has been prepared and plowed. All you have to do is put the potatoes in the trenches and press them down with your foot. Not too firmly, but not too lightly either. This is very important so that they can form good, healthy roots. The distance between the potatoes must always be about 30 cm," explained the farmer's wife. "Did you understand everything?" she asked to make sure.

"Yes, I've understood everything," Christel confirmed and saluted jokingly. This earned her another shake of the head from the farmer's wife.

When they arrived in the field, Christel was full of energy. Friedl had explained to her that she should load as many seed potatoes as possible into her apron so as not to waste too much time refilling it. Hans parked the potato cart at the edge of the field and hitched up the equipment with which he would cover the potatoes flat with soil afterwards. Meanwhile, Christel loaded up her potato apron, humming quietly, and walked along the plowed rows of fields with the farmer's wife. Christel had to get used to the weight of the potatoes in front of her stomach. It was all very unfamiliar, but she soon found her own rhythm when throwing in the potatoes. Initially over-cautious, after a few rows she was already pressing the potatoes firmly with her foot. Although the work was tiring, she enjoyed it because she didn't have to think much about it. After half an hour, the work became too monotonous for her. To add a little variety, she began to sing:"In March, the farmer harnesses the little horses."The farmer's wife, who was walking silently in the row next to Christel and also throwing in potatoes, raised her head. "She sings while she works," she stated matter-of-factly, shaking her head for the third time that day at the city girl, who was so different from everyone else who had been assigned to her farm so far - but this time with a slight smile on her lips. Hans followed them with the workhorses. He couldn't take his eyes off Christel. They made rapid progress with their work. After almost five hours of monotonous but strenuous work, they had planted more than half of the seed potatoes in the ground and were looking forward to a break. The farmer's wife had prepared a few slices of bread with butter, so the three of them sat down on the potato cart and enjoyed the sandwiches. They didn't talk much. Everyone was lost in thought and was happy not to have to talk. After a 15-minute break, they got back to work.

After another three hours, they called it a day and drove back to the farm. Christel's companions were already waiting for them there. Christel said goodbye to the farmer's wife and Hans and walked towards the girls.

"So, how was it?" asked Ruth. She had a pitying look on her face. "Poor you! I thought my heart was going to stop when Friedl did the division. Putting the potatoes in - don't worry! That's the last thing I would have wanted to do. Was it really bad?"

Christel laughed. "No, I didn't think so. Thanks to the apron, I didn't even have to bend down. The potatoes are quite heavy, but you can easily throw them in while walking forwards and press them down a little with your foot. So two operations in one, if you do it cleverly."

"It would still be nothing for me. I was really lucky. I helped in the kitchen and around the house. But I'm still knackered now."

"There you go, see? I told you right away. Things usually turn out differently than you feared. Your sister drove you unnecessarily crazy. All that black vision only robbed you of sleep and it wouldn't have changed anything either way," she said with a shrug.

"And how was your day? What did you do?" Ruth asked the others.

"We put the geese out to pasture and then mucked out the barn. And collected eggs from the henhouse and fed all the birds," Gerda replied. Christel was amazed. Gerda, who was normally rather shy and reserved, seemed to have changed. 'Country life seems to be as good for her as it is for me,' Christel thought to herself.

It was four o'clock when the six of them arrived back at the camp. They only had a little time to rest before the theory lessons began. Christel took Ruth by the hand and pulled her to the washrooms. "Come on, let's freshen up a bit and get into our uniforms straight away, shall we?" She felt dirty. Her dress was sticking to her skin and her hands were smeared.

"Are we even allowed to do that?" Ruth asked, a little unsettled. There was nothing on the timetable about being allowed to wash after fieldwork.

"Listen, that would be even better," Christel said indignantly. "Surely no one is going to ask us to put on our uniforms all sweaty and dirty. Besides, you probably wouldn't be able to breathe the air in the classroom after a short time if 50 girls were stinking to death." Christel didn't care whether it was allowed or not. What was going to happen? They certainly wouldn't get more than a reprimand for it. Besides, she really didn't think the guides would object.