Shores Beyond Shores by Irene Butter

Author:Irene Butter [Butter, Irene, Bidwell, John D., and Holloway, Kris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography/Personal Memoirs/History/Holocaust
Publisher: White River Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

25

Camp Bergen-Belsen

Late Spring 1944

At first, hunger was a pesky neighbor, sometimes noisy at night, interrupting sleep. Then it was a nagging visitor who came rapping on the door more and more. Finally, it had the keys. Hunger marched in and settled down. As the spring months dragged on and the cold raced across the camp, through every crevasse, under every blanket, hunger went from a distant stranger to an annoying acquaintance to a constant companion. There was no place to escape, no room to retire to. It became an ever-present, day-after-day rumbling.

As mothers, fathers, and relatives started returning from work in the late afternoons, I left my job watching kids to get our daily rations. I waited in the long line with other kids and some adults. With food becoming increasingly scarce, adults started pushing the kids out of the way to get ahead. I watched carefully. We were free of Mrs. Mandel, but it always paid to be attentive when it came to food. If needed, I asked servers for more vegetables. And I measured the hunk of bread. Again, I protested, but only if needed. I wasn’t loud, but I was quick. Then I returned to our bunks and waited.

I sat on my bunk, arms around our pail, pulling what warmth I could and inhaling the smell. Hunger sat beside me, whispering in my ear to eat it all. It would be easy. There wasn’t much, and for the first time in almost a year, I would be able to go to sleep with a full stomach. I slid my finger around the inside edge of the pail, feeling the moisture build to drops. When nobody was looking I put a shaking finger to my tongue. My senses bounced between the all-absorbing taste and listening for my family’s approaching footfalls: Mutti’s delicate gait and Pappi’s longer shuffle. The barracks darkened with the evening. The food cooled. Every few minutes I collected drops of soup telling myself it would have evaporated anyhow.

I couldn’t wait any more. With careful measure, I took my portion of food and devoured it. Instead of feeling better I found myself ravenous. I dipped my spoon with my shaking hand into the pail a few more times and picked off and ate the uneven bread ends. As the food hit my lips, my body wanted to slurp down every last drop and chew down every crumb. Maybe this is how vampires feel about blood, I thought. I kept thinking I heard my family, only to realize I was wrong. Then there was no mistake. I was terrified that they would say something about the portions or read my guilt. But also relieved that I was free of further temptation.

They said nothing. Pappi sat, took off his worn out shoes, lay down, and closed his eyes. I looked over at Mutti who stayed upright, but leaned her head against the frame of the bunk.

“Okay, Reni. Do you have something hearty for us?” Pappi asked after a few minutes.

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