A woman was waiting for us outside. She wore a scarf over her shaved head and she carried a whip. She looked mean. She introduced herself as our block leader and ordered us into the wooden shed. The windowless room looked like a barn and smelled like a kennel. The walls were bare and the floor was grimy. A row of narrow bunks spread across two walls: wooden planks in three tiers, so close together that if you sat up you’d scrape your head on the tier above. There were no mattresses on the planks, just thin grey blankets. “Welcome to your new home.” The block leader kicked the door closed. I looked at the splintering bunks and the crumbling walls. There was nothing of my home here, and with every minute that passed there was less of me. I flopped onto a bunk. “Rule number one – no sitting.” The block leader cracked her whip and I leaped off the bunk. There were no Nazi guards stalking the barrack, no SS watching from the door. I glanced at the block leader, her bony arms folded across her chest, her eyes stony.
