assigned to perform factory work; which meant working inside all day long, head down, shoulders aching, squinting in poor light at some metal object that belonged to a piece of German war equipment. I fantasized about the part I was working on; breaking down at a crucial moment and disabling the Nazis’ plan for control and world domination.
My job was to assemble a few of the pieces together by lightly tapping them with a small metal hammer. Grab two pieces, tap them together, grab another, tap it on, and throw them in another box for the next girl on the line to pick up and work on…over and over and over. I fought the boredom by humming quietly to myself. I was so sleepy; I feared I was fighting a losing battle.
Briefly, I fell asleep, allowing the hammer to slip from my grasp and land on my foot. Toe throbbing, I quickly bent down, retrieved it and resumed assembling the metal discs. Humming wasn’t going to work for me today, I needed to move if I was going to stay awake. Feet planted slightly apart, I gently rocked from side to side.
Now I could engage in my favorite pastime…daydreaming. Nothing about this setting sparked a memory for me. This job, with its senseless monotony of noise and repetition was not something I cared to focus on. Now, until the end of the day, could only be tolerated through the relief of memories. It would be nice to say that an endless supply of memories kept me from slipping into boredom and falling asleep on my feet again, but itdidn’t. The boredom, followed by the falling asleep happened again; only the difference was, it was witnessed by a guard.
I awoke, on my feet, to a big gray representative of the Nazi party. Though he was screaming at me, his German was barely audible, his words cushioned by the noise of the factory. He pelted me with threats and insults. By chance alone, it was a verbal assault, not one rained upon me by his hands or the butt of his rifle. I couldn’t afford to get in trouble now; who would look after Anna? I quickly looked down and picked up the pace of my hammering. I desperately needed to be working outside. I cringed at the realization that I’d come very close to losing my life. In the late afternoon, the spring light filtered through the high windows on the factory walls, as dust filled sun rays beamed down, and I thanked God I’d been afforded a second chance.
Another young girl, two places from where I stood on the assembly line, hadn’t been as fortunate as I. Amidst screamed promises of never falling asleep again, and cries of “I’m sorry,” the child was dragged kicking and screaming to a transport truck and tossed in just as it was pulling out of camp. The gate sentries laughed at the monstrous act of the incensed guard. I could feel the panic rising in my chest; terror was paying me a visit today, but it was a visitor I didn’t welcome. My fingers worked faster despite blurring tears pooling in my eyes.
Dear God, look after that child
.
I hoped Anna was staying awake at whatever mindless task the Nazis had her doing today.
I thought about the young girl who’d been thrown out of the factory. How many times had she apologized on her way to transport? How many times had I apologized for real or imagined infractions against the Nazi regime?
“
I’m sorry
I took that breath of air.”
“
I’m sorry
I fell asleep from exhaustion and starvation.”
“
I’m sorry
I can’t work harder and faster with less food andenergy.”
“
I’m sorry
I’m shivering from the cold.”
There was a constant unspoken demand to apologize to our jailors. If we weren’t sorry for staying alive the soldiers would remind us to be. I returned from the factory that day shaken but grateful.
The camp beautification program was in full swing now. Every day spent working outside the camp brought startling surprises upon our return. The dirt around the barracks had been raked into an orderly lined pattern. Not one weed could be spotted anywhere near
My job was to assemble a few of the pieces together by lightly tapping them with a small metal hammer. Grab two pieces, tap them together, grab another, tap it on, and throw them in another box for the next girl on the line to pick up and work on…over and over and over. I fought the boredom by humming quietly to myself. I was so sleepy; I feared I was fighting a losing battle.
Briefly, I fell asleep, allowing the hammer to slip from my grasp and land on my foot. Toe throbbing, I quickly bent down, retrieved it and resumed assembling the metal discs. Humming wasn’t going to work for me today, I needed to move if I was going to stay awake. Feet planted slightly apart, I gently rocked from side to side.
Now I could engage in my favorite pastime…daydreaming. Nothing about this setting sparked a memory for me. This job, with its senseless monotony of noise and repetition was not something I cared to focus on. Now, until the end of the day, could only be tolerated through the relief of memories. It would be nice to say that an endless supply of memories kept me from slipping into boredom and falling asleep on my feet again, but itdidn’t. The boredom, followed by the falling asleep happened again; only the difference was, it was witnessed by a guard.
I awoke, on my feet, to a big gray representative of the Nazi party. Though he was screaming at me, his German was barely audible, his words cushioned by the noise of the factory. He pelted me with threats and insults. By chance alone, it was a verbal assault, not one rained upon me by his hands or the butt of his rifle. I couldn’t afford to get in trouble now; who would look after Anna? I quickly looked down and picked up the pace of my hammering. I desperately needed to be working outside. I cringed at the realization that I’d come very close to losing my life. In the late afternoon, the spring light filtered through the high windows on the factory walls, as dust filled sun rays beamed down, and I thanked God I’d been afforded a second chance.
Another young girl, two places from where I stood on the assembly line, hadn’t been as fortunate as I. Amidst screamed promises of never falling asleep again, and cries of “I’m sorry,” the child was dragged kicking and screaming to a transport truck and tossed in just as it was pulling out of camp. The gate sentries laughed at the monstrous act of the incensed guard. I could feel the panic rising in my chest; terror was paying me a visit today, but it was a visitor I didn’t welcome. My fingers worked faster despite blurring tears pooling in my eyes.
Dear God, look after that child
.
I hoped Anna was staying awake at whatever mindless task the Nazis had her doing today.
I thought about the young girl who’d been thrown out of the factory. How many times had she apologized on her way to transport? How many times had I apologized for real or imagined infractions against the Nazi regime?
“
I’m sorry
I took that breath of air.”
“
I’m sorry
I fell asleep from exhaustion and starvation.”
“
I’m sorry
I can’t work harder and faster with less food andenergy.”
“
I’m sorry
I’m shivering from the cold.”
There was a constant unspoken demand to apologize to our jailors. If we weren’t sorry for staying alive the soldiers would remind us to be. I returned from the factory that day shaken but grateful.
The camp beautification program was in full swing now. Every day spent working outside the camp brought startling surprises upon our return. The dirt around the barracks had been raked into an orderly lined pattern. Not one weed could be spotted anywhere near
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