My hand shakes as I run the tip of my finger down the text on my notepad. I swallow against the thickness in my throat and try to take a breath before speaking. “The tub measuring 4°C/40°F will be for…” My notes say: Twenty minutes for data collection. No more than twenty-five minutes as thirty to ninety minutes of immersion will result in death.“The fifteen minute mark will give us time to collect data and remove them from the water,” I speak out.
My body rushes with heat, sweat beading beneath my collar, knowing Otto is staring at my notes still. He’s probably seen the time is set between thirty and ninety minutes, knowing I’ve lied. Otto’s breaths are loud, sharp through his nose.
“The second tub 12°C/53.6°F will allow for a thirty-minute time marker, and the third tub at 16°C/60.8°F should have a seventy-minute time marker. All three volunteers must be wearing neck and head foam protection.” All of my altered time markers have enough padding to spare the lives of the frailest.
“And the heated tubs, Frau Berger?” the lonely soldier asks.
“Set those tubs to 40°C/104°F.” The soldier tends to the tubs parallel to the cold ones and I know I’m running out of seconds to make any last-minute decisions. I scan my written notes repeatedly, flipping the page back and forth. “Body temperatures need to be monitored as well as their heart rates,” I say as a reminder of what was ignored last time.
“Dr. Dietrich said that information wasn’t necessary for his report,” Otto says.
“What is the purpose of any of this if we aren’t collecting the proper data to back up our findings? I would like three thermometers.” I can check a heart rate without an instrument.
“Emilie,” Otto says.
“Do you know why the internal body temperature is so imperative to this data?” I question Otto.
“Well, yes, but?—”
“I don’t care if the report doesn’t require it. There’s no purpose in monitoring time without temperature,” I whisper to him. “They can’t survive past a certain point. We need to protect them.”
“Find three thermometers,” Otto directs the soldiers then turns to reply to me quietly. “Rectal temperature is the only accurate way to measure, and we can’t do that when they’re underwater.”
I clench my hands, feeling the pressure of all these lives on our shoulders. “On average, there’s a two percent difference between oral and rectal temperatures. We can manage the math while they are in the water,” I say.
“Based on averages, the data won’t be?—”
I whip my head toward Otto, staring at him with what I can only hope he sees as a demand to be quiet.
“Then go find the appropriate rectal thermometer for when they are removed from the water,” I argue.
Otto strides along the rim of the room until he reaches a drawer of supplies, returning quickly with the rectal thermometers, setting them on the table between the cold and hot tubs.
“Let’s begin.” Otto checks his watch and holds his focus on the time, avoiding the scene of the soldiers tossing head gear and neck protection at the three men. They’re prepared within seconds and are shoved toward each tub with haste.
I watch Danner step into his and my heart falls flat. I make my way closer to the tubs, clenching my notebook in one hand by my side.
Despite the varying temperatures, the three of them grunt and groan the moment they are immersed up to the base of their skulls, mimicking a person floating in the ocean, awaiting aid.
These sounds of abuse and torture haunt me at night. I’ve heard the sounds so many times now with each round of experiments I’ve been forced to watch.
Time seems to be moving at half the speed it should as I watch the paleness grow across their faces, each shivering, creating small ripples across the water.
I start with Danner and approach him with the thermometer from a tray on a table near him. He opens his mouth, keeping his watering eyes locked on mine as I place the thermometer beneath his tongue. “Why did you volunteer for this?” I whisper so quietly, I’m not sure he heard me.
I might never know if he did because he doesn’t respond in any way.
While the thermometer is beneath his tongue, I slip my fingers against the carotid artery beneath his neck protection to measure his pulse. He’s ice-cold to the touch.
Why is this happening? Why are we here?
He’s still staring at me, and I want to say so many things, but I can’t say a word, and nor can he.
“Pulse, 120. Oral temperature, 36.11°C/97°F,” I speak out, pulling my fingers from beneath Danner’s neck protection. I glance around to make sure someone is jotting down the data, finding Otto with his head still down, writing the numbers.
Tears burn the backs of my eyes as I stand up and replace the thermometer on the tray, needing to move on to the next subject.
“Please follow me with the simple questions to gauge their brain function,” I tell the soldiers who are lined up, waiting for instruction.
