فصل 93

joana

Emilia wanted to wait for Florian. I grabbed her by the hand and pulled her out of the cinema, assuring the others we’d see them tomorrow.

A thick procession of wagons and evacuees clogged the road to the port. The gray stone buildings lining the cobbled street were pockmarked, missing their doors and windows. Interior rooms were now visible, like a broken dollhouse. I saw a beautiful mahogany desk with a typewriter, the chandelier above swinging in the wind. A faded and torn banner of Hitler flapped from the splintered window of a perfume shop. It said, Volk ans Gewehr. People Get to Your Gun.

Did Lithuania and Poland look this bad too?

Our papers and passes were checked as we entered the harbor, as we approached the ship, and then again near the gangway. The soldiers instructed us to board and report to a desk on B deck. Emilia’s hand trembled in mine as we walked up the gangway through the open cavity on the side of the Gustloff.

Inside, the ship was a floating city. A warm one. Enormous would be an understatement. It appeared that amidst the chaos outside, the Germans were preparing and insisting on a very orderly boarding process. Signs were in place to direct passengers. Once we reached B deck we were told to proceed to the promenade deck where a makeshift maternity ward had been established.

Sailors and authorized personnel darted every which way as we progressed through the corridors. “Step aside, please.” Two sailors ran past us with a stack of blankets. Announcements squawked through the public address speaker. We arrived on the promenade deck. Emilia dropped my hand.

“I want to leave. Want to be outside,” she whispered.

“Let’s get you settled. You’ll feel better in a moment,” I assured her.

I found Dr. Richter. He directed us to what would be the maternity ward. Cots with crisp white linens sat in uniform rows.

“You are the very first mother to arrive,” Dr. Richter told Emilia. “We’re hoping to have another doctor on board but we haven’t received confirmation yet.”

Emilia said nothing.

“It’s all quite overwhelming for her,” I explained. “Her condition, the trek, the language barrier, being separated from her . . . husband.”

“Of course,” said the doctor. “But I can solve one of the problems. Many of the passengers will be multilingual. Once boarding begins I’ll find someone who speaks Latvian.” Dr. Richter patted Emilia’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry. Soon you can tell us absolutely everything.” He turned and walked out of the maternity ward.

Emilia’s nails dug into my arm.