Neither of us spent enough time in our medical classes to learn about this subject matter. My knowledge is from personal research using the books I have at home, which is why I know more than Otto. Why I’ve been asked to help. “So, you know it causes arrhythmia, stroke, cardiac arrest, and/or death?”
“Yes, I know all of that,” he says, clearing his throat with a clear expression of unease.
“You, over here,” a guard shouts in the hallway. “Do you have any current medical concerns we should be aware of?” They are close enough for me to hear every word so must be in the corridor.
“No, Herr. I don’t have any current medical concerns that I’m aware of. I’ve always been quite healthy. I have volunteered to be here,” he says.
His voice—it’s Danner. Of all the prisoners, volunteers, or whoever is waiting here to take part in this horrific test, why does he have to be the first on the list?
“That’s Danner. Did you hear his voice? Do you remember his voice, Otto? Our friend? The boy you used to play ball with as a child, and then ran track with as you got older. You helped each other with school subjects that you struggled with. He was always there for you, and you were there for him. What about now? How do we go about helping him now?”
“Emilie, enough!” Otto snaps. “Maybe it’s best if you go home again so I can take things from here. Just tell me you have a headache and I’ll send you back to the house. Go on.”
“No. I won’t leave Danner alone with you here.”
TWENTY-THREE
EMILIE
JULY 1942
Dachau, Germany
Otto is immersed in the paperwork, taking his job more seriously than I can stomach. “We need several subjects for this first round,” he says, his voice monotone, emotionless.
“So you’re responsible for choosing the subjects?” I ask.
“Yes. I have a list in front of me to choose from. What makes for the best specimen for this test? Is it someone with more body fat? Is there an age range we should begin with? What about a certain pulse rate range?”
My heart drops when I realize we haven’t chosen people for this test yet, which means Danner’s number must have been called for a different reason.In truth, the selection should be varied to get valid data to cover a broader range, but if Danner wasn’t being called for this particular study, he could be put into one much worse—one I can’t control. I should request vitals that likely would match up to Danner’s just in case he’s still in the running as a candidate. That way I can make sure he remains safe.
“I would start with an age range of eighteen to twenty-five. All body weights should be considered, but they all seem fairly consistent in their state of frailty.” Danner is twenty-three and though he’s thin as a rail, he’s not as emaciated as some of the others I saw out in the corridor. It’s clear none of the prisoners here are eating well, and not for a while. God only knows what Danner has been through over the last few years.
Otto peers up at me over the folder, narrowing an eye as if questioning my decision to be purposeful rather than logical.
“The general age of air force crew is eighteen to twenty-five. Someone with a greater body mass will have a wider time range of how long it takes to warm and cool. A lean person will reach a level of hypothermia faster than someone obese so I’d like to start with the leaner people and shorter time periods before testing too closely to a degree of risk. I’m trying to preserve our subjects as there will be further requests for additional data.”
Otto clears his throat. “You’re right. I’ll inform the administration of what we need. I’ll be requesting twelve subjects to start, which is in accordance with the first test we need to complete.”
“I didn’t see any paperwork requesting particular data sets…”
“I was informed of what we need,” he continues, avoiding eye contact.
“By whom?”
“Dietrich. I’ll be back in a moment,” he says, holding up the folder and heading for the door.
Left with nothing to review, I decide to join the servicemen in the room next door.
My heart rate increases as I reach for the doorknob, again unsure of what I’ll be facing even though I know there are no subjects in the room yet. I spent a considerable number of days observing operation theaters and taking notes, but thatwas different. I wish I could tell myself it wasn’t, but we were watching experienced surgeons do what they do best.
I push the door open, my heartbeat pulses in my head as I step into the open space to find two large submersion tubs on opposite sides of the room beneath hanging spotlights. The assistant servicemen handle the hoses as gurgling water fills each tub, the pressure becoming muffled the closer the water level rises to a thick black strip of tape adhered to the inside.
I’m out of my element, standing here clueless. Everyone seems to have direction except me and I’m still wondering what I’m doing here if I’m not being given any information. I’ve only been asked simple questions that surely Otto could have answered himself.
“Welcome,” one of the servicemen says. I nod, not wanting to converse. “You’ll get used to all of this.”
“Really?” I ask, sharply. “Have you been here long?” I seem to have interrupted their task of watching the tubs fill with water.God only knows how many innocent inmates have come in and out of these rooms.
