The Violinist of Auschwitz: Based on a true story, an absolutely heartbreaking and gripping World War 2 novel by Ellie Midwood

Author:Ellie Midwood [Midwood, Ellie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781800191396
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2020-11-17T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Alma was released back to her girls by the end of the week. Prior to escorting her out of the pathologist’s quarters, Dr. Mengele handed Alma an official form of some sort, filled with his tangled handwriting.

“This is for Drexler or Grese, if they ask for it during the roll call. You were officially in my care this entire time. Tell them it is imperative that you rest your arm as much as possible. If you’re not up to performing for their cultural evenings and whatever songs they demand from you whenever they grow bored during their shift, then you aren’t, and that’s final. If anyone needs further explanation on that matter, send them straight to my quarters.”

It was Alma’s profound conviction that no one in the camp lacked common sense to question the sadist-in-chief’s orders. Still, she was grateful for the precaution; both wardens shared a reputation of cruelty for the sake of cruelty and although Mandl personally forbade them to inflict any sort of physical harm on the orchestra inmates, they had long made their sentiments on the Music Block’s account known.

“If it were up to me, all of you, useless tramps, would have been put to work in the Aussenkommando instead of wasting the Reich’s resources for nothing,” Drexler had snarled at Alma just a couple of weeks ago, after the latter handed her the extended roll call list.

“All new additions to the orchestra are here on Dr. Mengele’s authority,” Alma had replied evenly, her eyes trained on the ground as Sofia had taught her.

Sometimes, Alma wondered if Drexler would indeed shoot her if she raised her gaze at her—a capital offense in the SS warden’s eyes. Grese, her lieutenant, only aspired to her mentor’s level of viciousness. She was still very young and unexperienced in the SS business and mostly satisfied herself with lashing the inmate women with her whip across their breasts until the skin would split under her blows, but she wasn’t known for shooting inmates indiscriminately solely for daring to look at her, not just yet.

With those two “fine” representatives of the Aryan race, it was never too prudent to be able to present a written protection from one of their male superiors, Alma considered on her way to the block, studying the form with its gothic script and Dr. Mengele’s signature on the bottom.

You interest me. Scientifically, he had said. That was the only reason she was still alive, Alma realized with disgust. That scientific interest of his and his fondness for classics. It was truly a travesty, the extent to which the value of a human being’s life had been reduced in this new Thousand Year Reich. “Usefulness” and someone’s personal interest.

The form clutched firmly in her hand, Alma trooped through the muddy parade ground fantasizing, with unexpected sadistic cruelty she had never expected from herself, about the day when their liberators would come and when the SS wardens’ bodies would be swinging from the gallows of the women’s camp instead of Jewish “useless eaters’.

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