She wondered how long she would have to stay here. The German army must give up, but when? Somehow she could not imagine Hitler agreeing to surrender under any circumstances. The man’s whole life had been based on arrogantly shouting that he was the boss. How could such a man admit that he had been wrong, stupid and wicked? That he had murdered millions and caused his country to be bombed to ruins? That he would go down in history as the most evil man who had ever lived? He could not. He would go mad, or die of shame, or put a pistol in his mouth and pull the trigger.
But how long would it take? Another day? Another week? Longer?
There was a shout from upstairs. ‘They’re here! The Russians are here!’
Then Carla heard heavy boots clattering down the steps. Where had the Russians got such good boots? From the Americans?
Then they were in the room, four, six, eight, nine men with dirty faces, carrying submachine guns with drum magazines, ready to kill as quick as look at you. They seemed to take up a lot of room. People shrank away from them, even though they were the liberators.
The soldiers took in their surroundings. They saw that they were in no danger from the emaciated prisoners, mainly female. They lowered their guns. Some moved into the adjoining rooms.
A tall soldier pulled up his left sleeve. He was wearing six or seven wristwatches. He shouted something in Russian, pointing at the watches with the stock of his gun. Carla thought she knew what he was saying, but she could hardly believe it. The man then grabbed an elderly woman, took her hand, and pointed to her wedding ring.
Hannelore said: ‘Are they going to rob us of what little the Nazis didn’t steal?’
They were. The tall soldier looked frustrated and tried to pull off the woman’s ring. When she realized what he wanted, she took it off herself and gave it to him.
The Russian took it, nodded, then pointed all around the room.
Hannelore stepped forward. ‘These people are prisoners!’ she said in German. ‘Jews, and families of Jews, persecuted by the Nazis!’
Whether he understood her or not, he took no notice, but just pointed insistently at the watches on his arm.
Those few who had any valuables that had not been stolen or traded for food handed them over.
Liberation by the Red Army was not going to be the happy event many people had been looking forward to.
But there was worse to come.
The tall soldier pointed at Rebecca.
She cringed away from him and tried to hide behind Carla.
A second man, small with fair hair, grabbed Rebecca and pulled her away. Rebecca screamed, and the small man grinned as if he liked the sound.
Carla had a dreadful feeling she knew what was going to happen next.
The short man held Rebecca firmly while the tall man squeezed her breasts roughly, then said something that made them both laugh.
There were cries of protest from the people all around.
The tall man levelled his gun. Carla was terrified he would fire. He would kill and wound dozens of people if he pulled the trigger of a submachine gun in a crowded room.
Everyone else realized the danger, and they went quiet.
The two soldiers backed towards the door, taking Rebecca with them. She yelled and struggled, but she could not break the small soldier’s grip.
When they reached the door, Carla stepped forward and cried: ‘Wait!’
Something in her voice made them stop.
‘She’s too young,’ Carla said. ‘Only thirteen!’ She did not know whether they understood her. She held up two hands, showing ten fingers, then one hand showing three. ‘Thirteen!’
The tall soldier seemed to understand her. He grinned and said in German: ‘
Carla found herself saying: ‘You need a real woman.’ She walked slowly forward. ‘Take me, instead.’ She tried to smile seductively. ‘I’m not a child. I know what to do.’ She came close, close enough to smell the rank odour of a man who had not bathed for months. Trying to conceal her distaste, she lowered her voice and said: ‘I understand what a man wants.’ She touched her own breast suggestively. ‘Forget the child.’
The tall soldier looked again at Rebecca. Her eyes were red with weeping and her nose was running, which helpfully made her look more like a child, less like a woman.
He looked back at Carla.
She said: ‘There’s a bed upstairs. Shall I show you where?’
Again she was not sure he understood the words, but she took him by the hand and he followed her up the steps to the ground floor.
The fair one let go of Rebecca and came after.
Now that she had succeeded, Carla regretted her bravado. She wanted to break away from the Russians and
