We walked single file down the hallway, the SS guards falling into line closely behind us. The nameplate on the door to the room told us this was the office of the Kommandant.
The light fixture hanging from the ceiling of the large office gave off a gentle yellow glow, making it almost seem homey, with wide leather couches, soft drapes on the windows, even a vase of flowers on top of a filing cabinet. But the air was thick with tension. Six officers seated around the room wore expressions of open hostility while the Kommandant stared at us impassively from behind the heavy desk. His hands rested on a stack of paperwork, his fingers linked together. The secretary stood in a corner, her arms crossed.
We were made to stand in a row in front of the desk, then the Kommandant motioned toward the secretary and handed her some of the papers. She read our names in heavily accented English, handing us each a stack of pages as she went.
I looked down at the page I’d been given but it was in German, and even as I skimmed the words, few made sense to me. The letterhead said Reichssicherheitshauptamt, which I knew to be the RSHA—the Head Office of Reich Security. But the paper was titled Vollzugsettel. What did that mean? I would have to ask Josie later.
The Kommandant spoke in German, several other men spoke too, and then the secretary collected the paperwork back from us and the guards motioned for us to follow them from the room. Whatever the meeting had been, it was over and I turned to leave—but then Josie cleared her throat and blurted something in German. Her voice was breathless and desperate, almost pleading.
The Kommandant was clearly unimpressed—he barked a harsh phrase at her and waved his hand to dismiss us from the room.
“What did you say?” I asked her, as I filed into the hallway behind her.
“No speaking,” the SS guard snapped.
We were led from the room, and I was no more enlightened than when we went in.
“Follow please,” the main guard said. We waited in the hallway again for a moment as an announcement played over the speakers. The noise from the prisoners outside faded to quiet, then we were taken through the grounds to an orderly room—the barracks’ meeting space. The guard pointed to two trellis tables at the back, where an urn, a box of tea and some cups sat waiting.
“Please to refresh.” At our blank looks, he spoke in frustrated, irritated German, pointing to the table and another door. Josie cleared her throat and translated stiffly, “he said we should help ourselves to the tea and take a moment to freshen up. There is a toilet through that door.”
We’d been walking in single file since we left the office, so this was the first time I had the chance to see her face and when I did, a shock ran through my body. Josie was white as a ghost, a look of sheer terror in her eyes.
The guard closed the door and Mary and Wendy made a beeline for the tea, chatting easily as they went. Josie went to follow, but I caught her arm.
“What on earth is going on?” I whispered. Her eyes were wild as she looked from me to the others.
“Nothing,” she said, her voice high. “I just want a cup of tea.”
She tried to take a step, but I tightened my grip on her arm.
“What was the paperwork? What did you say to them?”
“Eloise,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes closed. “Please don’t make me tell you.”
“The paperwork,” I said, heart sinking. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”
She hesitated, then all of a sudden deflated.
“A Vollzugsettel is an execution order.” I gasped in shock. Josie took my hand and squeezed it hard. “I’m sorry,” she whispered tearfully. “I’m sorry.”
“Why allow us to change? Shower? Why feed us so well today?”
“All Hertha’s doing, I suspect,” she said. “One last act of kindness. I could tell something was wrong this morning. She seemed distressed.”
“When is it happening? What else did they tell you?”
“Tonight, by lethal injection. I asked the Kommandant how they can execute us when we haven’t so much as had a trial or a court-martial.” Her nostrils flared and her eyes filled with tears. “He seemed shocked I spoke German—I don’t think they intended for us to know. But then he said I should be grateful to them for being so humane. They could hang us or shoot us.”
“How generous of them,” I said numbly. On the other side of the room, Wendy was smoothing her hair down and Mary was making cups of tea, as the two women relaxed, completely unaware of their fate. I looked back to Josie. “You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”
“No,” she said sadly. “If I thought we could do anything at all to change things I’d have found a way to tell you right away. But…”
I took a quick inventory of our situation, trying to think of a way to escape. I quickly reached the same conclusion Josie had. We were surrounded by SS officers and barbed wire and guns. Death was the only outcome here—the only question was whether we went peacefully or painfully. Across the room, Wendy and Mary looked tired but were still calm. The camp was distressing, the incident in the office probably unnerving, but they had no idea of the gravity of it all.
“Do I tell them?” Josie asked, her voice thick with tears.
“No,” I said quietly, exhaling. My heart was beating faster, a dull thud that seemed to echo through my body, as if my very spirit were clinging to those last few precious beats. “I’m glad you told me, but your instincts were right. Sometimes courage simply means letting someone else feel peace for as long as they can.”
“Hey. Hey you!” A man was at the window to the orderly room, a prisoner with sunken eyes over a gray face beneath his shaved head. He was whispering through the gap where the window had been pushed up to let fresh air in.
We had been waiting in the room for hours, long enough that a light fog blew in over the sunny day then thickened, until the whole camp had become shrouded in cloud. Mary and Wendy had long finished their tea and decided to lie down on the floor to nap, claiming exhaustion after the early start. Josie was in the toilet and had been for some time.
When I noticed the man, I rushed to the window.
“Hello,” I said, in English. The man gave me a sad look.
“I’m RAF. Are you all French?”
“French and British,” I told him. “SOE.”
“Bill!” someone hissed from the yard. “They’re coming.”
He reached up and put his hand over mine on the windowsill and squeezed once.
“They’ll shoot me if they see me talking to you so I have to go but…go well, and thank you for your service,” he said seriously, then squeezed my hand again. “They tried to hide you from us, locking us in our barracks when they moved you through the camp. But a group of us saw you arrive and we all know what…” He broke off, wincing. “I mean, it’s just we all know how this works.”
“I know,” I whispered miserably. “I know what’s coming.”
“I wish there was something I could do but…”
“Thank you,” I whispered back, but as he moved to leave, I caught his hand one more time. “There’s no way out of here, is there? No chance we could escape?”