The Road to Liberation: Trials and Triumphs of WWII

she repeated the words that Rachel had told her so many times. If only she could find her sister again.
When she finally arrived at the soup pot, the food bearer, an old and emaciated woman with hollow eyes, filled the ladle and was about to pour the soup for Mindel, when her arm stopped mid-way. “Where’s your bowl?”
“I…don’t have one.”
“No bowl, no soup.” The woman said and beckoned with her arm to the person behind Mindel. “Next one.”
Mindel was shoved out of the way, stumbling along the dusty ground. She watched with envy as others filed past, each and every person holding up a cup or bowl of some sort. Up until now she’d never given it a thought, but it became all too clear that Rachel had both of their cups, and without one, Mindel wouldn’t eat.
She felt like screaming out loud. But if she had learned one thing in these past months, it was that nothing good ever came of screaming. Most of the times it resulted in nothing but kicks, lashes with a whip or punches. Therefore, she ran off, her only goal to find her sister.
Gathering up all of her courage she asked one of the friendlier-looking guards, “Do you know where my sister is?”
“What do I care, you filthy Jew!”
He made a movement as if to hit her and she ran as quick as her feet would carry her, bumping into a small group of women with shaved heads. “Please, I need to find my sister!”
“Good luck with that.”
“You’ll never find your sister. Get over it.”
“But…” Mindel was about to sit down right there and wait until she died, because at least then she’d be able to fly to the clouds and spot Rachel from up there.
An older woman who spoke with a peculiar accent said, “Go back to your barracks, I’m sure your sister is waiting for you there.”
Barracks? “But…I don’t…” Mindel’s mind raced. Usually she and Rachel had been assigned to a barracks together and her sister had handled everything, from choosing a bunk for them, to getting blankets, to grabbing soup when it was time to do so. “Nobody told me where my barracks are.”
The woman looked slightly incredulous, but patiently asked, “You just arrived here?”
“Yes. Today.”
“Alone?”
“No, but my sister was taken to some other line and I was left here.”
“How old is your sister?”
Mindel furrowed her brows, thinking. “Really old. She’s been taking care of me.”
“That would explain it,” the woman murmured before she said in a louder voice, “They probably took her to a sub-camp to work in one of their factories.”
Big tears rolled down Mindel’s cheeks, but she didn’t utter a single sound.
“Oh, hell,” the woman cursed. “You can sleep in our barracks, but don’t think I’ll take care of you! I have enough on my hands to survive myself.”
Mindel nodded. At least she’d have a place to sleep tonight. Feeling for Paula nestled beneath her dress, she followed the woman to one of the ugly barracks. It wasn’t much different from those she’d slept in before – a one-story white building with tiny windows just big enough for her to crawl through, and one door at each end.
As soon as the woman opened the door, an atrocious smell wafted into Mindel’s nostrils and she involuntarily gagged. Once her eyes had adapted to the dim light inside, she noticed the three-story bunk beds lining the walls.
“Take the last bunk in the back,” the woman said and turned on her heel to leave. If it weren’t for Paula, Mindel would be all alone and miserable.
She did as she was told. Most of the people were outside, but some had stayed in their beds, filling the hut with groans, sniffs, coughs and farts.
Dear God, I will never be mean to my brothers again if you help me find Rachel, she promised before she reached the last bunk. It was right next to the buckets used at night when the inmates weren’t allowed outside to the latrine. The stench of urine and feces was horrific. She gagged several times, but since she hadn’t eaten for ages, nothing came up.
Rachel had always preferred the uppermost bunk, so she climbed up there, and stretched out on the bare wood, pressing Paula against her face. Tears fell into the doll’s dirty dress and she barely noticed when two other people climbed into her bunk and shoved her into a corner, grumbling. Exhaustion took over and she fell into a deep sleep, murmuring, “Rachel, where are you? Please, come find me.”

2
Rachel came awake at the shrill sound of a siren. Out of habit she fumbled about the bunk, searching for her little sister, when the events of the day before rushed to her mind. The image of Mindel’s panicked face, when the guard separated them and dragged Rachel into another fenced-off compound of this damned camp, was vividly imprinted in her memory.
By now she’d learned that they had arrived at the concentration camp in Bergen-Belsen and that the entire camp was divided into several compounds separated from each other by barbed wire fences. She had ended up in the biggest part, the Women’s camp, and could only guess where Mindel was. Maybe in the Star camp, which was close to the main entrance and had gotten its name because inmates wore civilian clothes with a Yellow Star sewn onto them. In any case, it would be difficult to get there, because traffic and communication between the compounds was strictly verboten.
Guilt crept up her spine. She should have fought harder to stay together with Mindel when the SS guard had torn them apart and shoved her in the opposite direction away from her sister. At four years of age, Mindel was nothing more than a baby, and without Rachel to look after her the way she’d done since their parents had been deported, how could she survive?
Rachel could only hope that a kind woman would take little Mindel under her wing and ensure her survival. Desperate,