Page 35 of Library of Forbidden Books

Anna shrugged. “It was a misunderstanding. In ’33 they arrested a bunch of members of the Communist Party. They took my husband and my son, even though they’d never been involved with the communists at all. I went to try to get them back, and they accused me of belonging to the Party as well. So now my grandchildren are raising themselves, and I have no idea where my husband and son are.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Helene said, resting her hand on the woman’s frail shoulder.

Anna shook her head and gently moved Helene’s hand. “I don’t mind at all, but you mustn’t touch anyone here. Try to pretend like you’re in hell. Most of the women in our barrack are from Hanover. They’re tough—factory workers. They’re not going to take to a librarian. That building next to us is the Göttingen barrack where all the young students, professors, and intellectuals are. And that one’s for Jehovah’s Witnesses and the antisocial prisoners.”

Helene tried to process all the information. She asked, “Are we allowed to send letters? I want my husband to know where I am.”

Anna nodded, then pointed to a distant building that housed the camp’s administrative offices. “One letter a month, though they’re read and censored. We can’t give out any information about the camp.”

Anna saw the other women getting ready to return to work and motioned for Helene to stay beside her.

“Why are you helping me?” Helene asked.

“No one did it for me. I’m no saint, but if there’s a God in heaven, I think he helps those who can see something good in others. My mother taught me that, and so did the church in our neighborhood growing up. I don’t know what in the world has happened to our country.”

The women headed for the workshops. At the door to the sewing building, one of the guards asked Helene if she knew how to use a sewing machine. She said she did, though she had only ever touched a machine a couple of times in her life.

The large room smelled of fabric, machine grease, and the concentrated sweat of more than one hundred women.

Helene was allowed to sit beside Anna, and everyone got to work. She looked with desperation to her new friend, and Anna calmly showed her how to use the machine. An hour later, Helene was putting together her first black wool SS officer uniform.

That first day went by more quickly than Helene would have imagined. After a long stretch of work, the prisoners were given hot soup, a piece of dark bread, and peas that supposedly contained a few bacon crumbles, though Helene’s were bare. She downed her portion in seconds. It had been hours since she had eaten, and she was famished. She had lost several pounds since Kummer had locked her up, yet she was surprised to see her belly sticking out a bit.

Back in the barrack, Anna sat beside Helene. “They’ll shut off the lights in less than an hour. You really should try to sleep. It’s the only thing these people can’t take from us. Dreams are when we’re really free . . . though waking up afterward is brutal.”

“Thank you so much for all your help, Anna. You’ve really saved me today.”

The old woman smiled at her young protégé. “I’m going to go see a friend.”

When she had walked away, Helene stretched out on her mattress and tried to rest. But before she fell asleep, another of the prisoners came up to her. She was a petite young redhead with a girlish freckled face.

“Are you Helene?” she asked.

“Yes, nice to meet you,” she answered, sitting up and automatically holding out her hand. Then she remembered Anna’s warning and dropped it.

“I’m Alice. I received a letter, but I can’t . . .” The young woman’s voice trailed off.

“You can’t read it?” Helene offered.

Alice dropped her head in answer.

“Well, there’s a solution for that. But why have you come to ask me for help?”

“People in here aren’t very nice. I’m from Berlin, like you, and I heard you were a librarian. I didn’t know women could be librarians.” Alice’s voice perked up the longer she talked.

“Oh yes, they certainly can! Why don’t you sit here beside me?” Helene patted the straw mattress, and a cloud of dust puffed up.

The girl sat and handed over a dirty, open envelope. Pulling out the letter, Helene noticed that most of the lines had been blacked out.

“They censor everything,” Alice explained.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“But at least I’ll hear something about my boyfriend. Hans is a really good boy . . . .”

Helene smiled, though she had already picked up on the unspoken camp rule against smiling. Then she began to read:

“‘Dear Alice, I was thrilled to get your letter and know that you’re okay.’” Helene scrunched up her eyes and tried to read through the black marking, but it was impossible. “‘My father is very ill. Please pray for him. Work is going fine. I hope to see you soon. I miss you so much, especially our walks in the park and our afternoons at . . .’” Helene shifted the paper so the light hit at a different angle and managed to make out, “‘the workers’ community center.’”