The train sped on. The boxcar smelled so disgusting that Corrie had to force herself to breathe. The women near the holes in the side of the boxcar yelled out to notify the others when it got dark or light. First one night passed, then another, and then a third. Finally, the train ground to a halt. The women heard the sound of young boys yelling in German, and then the door to the boxcar slid open. Corrie raised her arm to shield her eyes from the intense light that spilled in.
The pressure of eighty women packed into such a tiny space pushed out those near the door. The women fell the four feet onto the stones beside the railroad track. More of the women inside the boxcar crawled towards the fresh air. They were all too exhausted to do anything more than fall out of the doorway on top of the others. Soon there were large piles of women outside the doors of every boxcar in the train. Slowly, the stronger women pulled themselves free of the piles. There was a small lake about twenty feet from the train, and the women began to crawl towards it. Corrie was one of them. She left Betsie in the pile of women and promised to come back for her. Over the rough rocks she crawled, her knees bleeding as she went, her eyes fixed firmly on the water in front of her.
Finally, Corrie collapsed beside the lake. She sank her face into the water. How wonderful it felt! She let it lap over her hair and around her neck. She gulped mouthfuls of it. All along the lake edge, other women were doing the same.
After a few minutes, Corrie felt strong enough to sit up. She looked around. Unlike the guards in Holland who were grown men and women, the guards here were teenage boys. Some of them didn’t even look fifteen years old. Corrie shook her head. Over a thousand women were being controlled by seven teenage boys with guns. In truth, there was no need for more than seven guards; none of the women had the strength to resist.
One of the young guards carrying a pile of canvas bags threw one down near Corrie. “Carry water,” he barked in German.
Corrie dipped the bag into the lake and stood up. Her whole body wobbled as she staggered back to the train with the water. Betsie had managed to crawl a little distance from the pile of other women. Corrie found her and poured some water over her. “Thank you,” she mouthed through her cracked lips. Corrie went on, pouring water into other prisoners’ mouths. Some of them, though, were unconscious, and the eyes of others were rolled back in their sockets. Corrie knew they were dead.
When the water was gone, Corrie handed the canvas bag to another prisoner and lay down beside Betsie. It was a beautiful, sunny day. Birds cheeped in nearby trees, and a German farmer drove his horse and hay cart down the road beside the railroad track. It all seemed so normal, except for the dead and dying women lying beside the train.
“Get up. Get moving,” screamed one of the young guards, hitching up his uniform pants, which were too big for him. Corrie stayed where she was. How easy it would be to give up right now, she thought. Betsie and I could die together, lying in the sun, listening to the birds.
“Come on, we have to get up.” Betsie’s voice broke into her thoughts. Corrie turned her head to look at her sister. She could clearly see the bones beneath her skin and the shape of her skull beneath her thin, gaunt face. Betsie’s lips were dry and cracked. Corrie scrambled to her feet. If her big sister could go on, so could she.
Supporting each other, Corrie and Betsie joined the ragtag line of women that had begun disappearing over a small rise to the right of the train past the small lake. Slowly, the two sisters climbed to the top of the rise. By the time they got there, Betsie was completely out of breath. They stood for a moment looking down from the rise. The sight laid out below made Corrie close her eyes in fear and dread. Stretching as far as she could see was row upon row of gray clapboard buildings, just like the ones they had left in Vught. A huge brick wall with barbed wire along its top surrounded the buildings, and towards the front of the compound was a large concrete building with a huge smokestack protruding from its center. Blue-gray smoke belched from it.
Even as Corrie stood with her eyes closed, the reality of where they were could not be shut out. “God help us, it’s Ravensbruck,” whispered one of the other women. Corrie reached out to steady herself against her sister. She had heard of Ravensbruck; everyone in Holland had. It was a death camp for women. A place that thousands of women were forced into by the Nazis but from which few ever came out alive.
Betsie whispered into Corrie’s ear, “Remember, there is no pit so deep that God’s love is not deeper.”
Corrie nodded.
Still clutching their pillowcase, Corrie and Betsie marched down the hill and into the notorious Ravensbruck concentration camp with the hundreds of other women from Vught who were still alive after their journey from Holland. To the left of the main gate was a large open area covered with straw, and the women were herded into it and told to wait. Corrie sighed. There it was again; the Germans were always getting them to hurry up just so they could wait at the other end. As the women reached the straw, they sank down onto it. Corrie and Betsie found a spot, too.
“Oh, no!” exclaimed a prisoner near them as she leapt to her feet. “Lice, the place is alive with lice.”
And so it was. Corrie looked at the straw that was seething with tiny, biting insects. The women looked at each other as if to say, what can we do? They were too weak to stand any longer. They had no choice but to flop down on the louse-infested straw. After an hour or so, all the women were again seated on the straw. And then the haircutting began. The Nazis did not order it; the women did it themselves. Several women had scissors, which were slowly passed from woman to woman. They began to cut off each other’s hair. When the scissors were handed to her, with tears in her eyes, Corrie cut off Betsie’s once beautiful auburn hair. Next Betsie cut off Corrie’s hair. As it fell to the ground, Corrie noticed that in the short time she had been a prisoner of the Nazis, her hair had turned from dark brown to gray.
The women sat on the straw for the rest of the day and on through the night. It rained heavily, and their blankets were soaked. Betsie started to cough; at first she coughed up phlegm, later blood. Corrie helped her put on Nollie’s woolen sweater, but it did not help much. Throughout the night and all the next day, Corrie had to help Betsie to the ditch the women were using as a toilet. For two full days they were left sitting on the louse-infested straw with only a slice of black bread and cup of so-called coffee twice a day to keep them alive.
Finally, as night was about to fall on the third day, a guard yelled for the women to line up and follow him. They filed past a desk, where each woman was given a number. Corrie was prisoner number 66730, and Betsie was number 66729.
Next, the women were counted off into groups of fifty and told to wait. Since Corrie was at the front of her group, she could see what was happening. The first group of fifty women were told to leave all their belongings, including the blankets, in a pile by the door of a long, low building. No one was recording who had left what behind. Corrie’s heart chilled. That could mean only one thing; they were not going to get the things back. After the women had handed over their belongings, they were told to strip naked and step into the building. For fifteen horrible minutes Corrie thought they had been ushered into a gas chamber. Then, to her relief, she caught sight of the women coming out of a door at the far end of the building. They were all wearing thin cotton dresses with a large “X” sewn on the front and on the back.
Panic gripped Corrie as she watched. What would she and Betsie do without their Bible? And Betsie needed the warm woolen sweater Nollie had sent her, too. “God,” she prayed as she stood waiting for their turn to be processed, “please help me to find a way to get these things through.”
Just then, Betsie doubled over. “My stomach,” she groaned. “I have to get to a bathroom fast.”
Corrie looked around. They were too far away from the ditch they had used for the past few days. Bravely she stepped out of line and spoke to a guard. “My sister has to go to the bathroom now. She is sick; she cannot wait.”
The guard looked at the two of them and growled, “Over there. Use the shower drain.” He pointed his rifle towards the entrance the naked women had gone in.
Corrie helped Betsie to the showers, which were in a huge, dark, damp room with a row of moldy chairs stacked at the far end. In a flash, Corrie had an inspiration. “Quick, Betsie, take off your sweater,” she said.
Without questioning, Betsie took it off and handed it to her sister.
“Watch for the guards,” Corrie whispered as she pulled the Bible and its pouch over her head. She ran the length of the shower building and tucked the Bible, bottle of vitamin drops, and blue woolen sweater between the chairs. In less than a minute she was back beside Betsie.
“Let’s get back into line, quickly,” she said, helping Betsie up.
Once in line again they had another half hour to wait until it was their turn to strip and shower. The whole dehumanizing process was made bearable by the fact that they had their things waiting for them near the exit to the showers.
A pile of well-worn dresses was dumped on the floor, and the women scrambled to find one that fit them. Corrie found the perfect dress for Betsie. It had long sleeves, which would hide the sweater underneath. Betsie put it on while Corrie found a dress for herself. In the confusion of the other women trying to find a dress that fit, Corrie slipped away and recovered the things she had hidden between the chairs. She pulled the pouch with the Bible in it over her head. She slipped the bottle of vitamin drops inside the pouch as well, and she tied the sweater around her waist under her dress. Then she rejoined the group.
“Line up by the door,” yelled a guard who had just walked in.
Corrie’s heart sank as she joined the line. Three more guards had appeared, and by hand they were searching each woman from head to toe. They would surely feel the sweater and the pouch in an instant. “God,” she prayed again in desperation, “we can go through anything if we have this Bible with us. Please send your angels to hide it from the guards.”
Corrie took a deep breath; the woman in front of her was being searched. It would be her turn next. But her turn never came. Instead the guard reached right past her and began to search Betsie. Corrie just kept walking. Later, when she talked to the other women processed that day, Corrie discovered she was the only one who had not been searched. Tears ran down her cheeks as she thanked God for protecting the Bible, and she wondered about what lay ahead for the ten Boom sisters.
Chapter 13
Passed Inspection
Many thousands of prisoners were being held in Ravensbruck concentration camp. Corrie and Betsie and the other women from Vught soon fell into the dull routine of life there. Every morning they were awakened by a whistle at four o’clock. A slice of black bread and cup of hot “coffee” were provided for breakfast, and then all prisoners were to be lined up in rows of ten outside their barracks by four-thirty. Sometimes they stood in line until six or seven in the morning. At first this was not so bad, but as fall turned into early winter, many of the women could not stand in the cold for that long. A thud would be heard as someone hit the ground, followed by the footsteps and shouts of guards. Every prisoner knew what would happen next, but it was seldom talked about in the camp—it was too awful.
Ravensbruck had a large gas chamber where weak and disobedient prisoners were put to death. Often, rumor had it, a prisoner was tricked into thinking she was going to have a shower before being sent to the hospital. She would strip of her clothes willingly, accept a fresh bar of soap, and join other prisoners “showering” in the room. Soon the metal doors would slam shut, and within minutes the surprised and terrified prisoners would be dead from breathing the poisonous gas that was let into the chamber. The bodies would then be thrown into a large incinerator that burned night and day.
