When they straightened up, Dobberke’s face had changed. Rage was replaced by something like disgusted resignation. Carla’s heartbeat quickened. Had he given up?
Sergeant Ehrenstein ran in. ‘No one hurt, sir,’ he reported.
‘Very good, Sergeant.’
Ehrenstein was about to go out again when Dobberke called him back. ‘This camp is now closed,’ Dobberke said.
Carla held her breath.
‘Closed, sir?’ There was aggression as well as surprise in the sergeant’s voice.
‘New orders. Tell the men to go . . .’ Dobberke hesitated. ‘Tell them to report to the railway bunker at Freidrich Strasse Station.’
Carla knew Dobberke was making this up, and Ehrenstein seemed to suspect it too. ‘When, sir?’
‘Immediately.’
‘Immediately.’ Ehrenstein paused, as if the word ‘immediately’ required further elucidation.
Dobberke stared him out.
‘Very good, sir,’ said the sergeant. ‘I’ll tell the men.’ He went out.
Carla felt a surge of triumph, but told herself she was not yet free.
Dobberke said to Hilde: ‘Show me the declaration.’
Hilde opened her folder. There were a dozen sheets, all with the same wording typed at the top, the rest of the space covered with signatures. She handed them over.
Dobberke folded the papers and stuffed them in his pocket.
Hilde placed the release orders in front of him. ‘Sign these, please.’
‘You don’t need release orders,’ Dobberke said. ‘And I don’t have time to sign my name hundreds of times.’ He stood up.
Carla said: ‘The police are on the streets. They’re hanging people from the lamp posts. We need papers.’
He patted his pocket. ‘They’ll hang me if they find this declaration.’ He went to the door.
Gisela cried: ‘Take me with you, Walter!’
He turned to her. ‘Take you?’ he said. ‘What would my wife say?’ He went out and slammed the door.
Gisela burst into tears.
Carla went to the door, opened it, and watched Dobberke stride away. There were no other Gestapo men in sight: they had already obeyed his orders and abandoned the camp.
The commandant reached the street and broke into a run.
He left the gate open.
Hannelore was standing beside Carla, looking out with incredulity.
‘We’re free, I think,’ said Carla.
‘We must tell the others.’
Hilde said: ‘I’ll tell them.’ She went down the basement stairs.
Carla and Hannelore walked fearfully along the path that led from the laboratory entrance to the open gate. There they hesitated and looked at one another.
Hannelore said: ‘We’re frightened of freedom.’
Behind them a girlish voice said: ‘Carla, don’t go without me!’ It was Rebecca, running down the path, her breasts bouncing under a grubby blouse.
Carla sighed. I’ve acquired a child, she thought. I don’t feel ready to be a mother. But what can I do?
‘Come on, then,’ she said. ‘But be ready to run.’ She realized she did not need to worry about Rebecca’s agility: the girl could undoubtedly run faster than either Carla or Hannelore.
They crossed the hospital garden to the main gate. There they paused and looked up and down Iranische Strasse. It seemed quiet. They crossed the road and ran to the corner. As Carla looked along Schul Strasse she heard a burst of machine-gun fire and saw that farther up the street there was a firefight. She saw German troops retreating towards her and Red Army soldiers coming after them.
She looked around. There was nowhere to hide except behind trees, and that was hardly any protection at all.
A shell landed in the middle of the road fifty yards away and exploded. Carla felt the blast, but she was not hurt.
Without conferring, all three women ran back inside the hospital grounds.
They returned to the laboratory building. Some of the other prisoners were standing just inside the barbed wire, as if not quite daring to come out.
Carla said to them: ‘The basement stinks, but right now it’s the safest place.’ She went inside the building and down the stairs, and most of the others followed.
