28. Emilie

TWENTY-EIGHT

Dachau, Germany

I’ve been focusing on my notes, ensuring that whatever I do today won’t result in even a chance of injury to anyone.The others have been preparing the subjects and are waiting for me in the next room over where the tubs are set up. I lift my belongings to my chest and hold them tightly as I make my way across the empty lab into the adjoining room, finding a line of twelve prisoner volunteers, the three soldier assistants, Dietrich, and Otto.

Among the prisoners is Danner. My stomach burns and acid rises into my throat. I’ve treated every volunteer with the same level of respect as the next, doing everything in my power to ensure we spare them from torture. However, I’m aware of the continuation of testing after I’ve left for the day, which has resulted in deaths. I can’t let that happen to him.

Each of the men are already dressed in air force uniforms, but not the proper headgear and neck covering, which are critical to this part of the trial. “Do we have the additional protective layering?” I ask.

“Additional protective layering,” Dietrich utters. “Yes.” It’s clear he’s shooing off the question. His focus frozen on Danner as if he’s trying to place the recognition. He’s met Danner before, in a lifetime where Danner could still walk around with some freedom. I would think it would make him feel something. Anything. But Dietrich’s mind belongs to the SS now.

“What temperature are the tubs set to now?” They’ve added three more testing tubs to this room to save time.

“Station one is set to -12°C/10°F, station two is set to -7°C/20°F, and the third is set to 2.5°C/36.5°F.”

“No, no, that’s an unnecessary range. The average North Sea temperatures range from 2.5°C/36.5°F to 12°C/53.6°F depending on the depth and seasonal climate. We should be testing between that range. There’s no need for minus figures.” If someone sinks to a level below these temperatures, revival won’t be possible. Therefore, there’s no need to prove that theory here, now.

“Unnecessary range. The North Sea,” Dietrich mumbles. “Except, just two years ago, we hit record low temperatures that reached far into the negative temperatures, so it isn’t out of the realm of possibility that we could see those temperatures return.”

“Those temperatures were a direct result of the number of battleships and torpedo blasts stirring up the unreached depths of the sea with surface temperature water. Ice formed, making the sea unnavigable, much like what’s still occurring now. No matter the clothing a person wears, no one will survive in temperatures below 2.5°C/36.5°F for more than a few moments, which has already been determined,” I argue.

I notice Danner staring at me with wide, unblinking eyes. I’m not sure if he’s surprised to hear these numbers, or fearful I’m going to lose this argument. Maybe both.

“If there’s no chance of survival below 0°C/32°F there’s no purpose of testing below that range,” Otto says, supporting my theory. To hear him agree comes as a shock and I peer over my shoulder at him, noting his downward gaze to avoid eye contact with anyone in this room.

Dietrich throws his arms up in the air. “If there’s no chance…there’s no purpose,” Dietrich whispers, chewing on the words.“Nonsense. Whatever you do, however you get the data, just get me the numbers by the end of the day.”

“We will,” Otto replies. “Change the water temperatures of the two tubs with temperatures below zero up to 4°C/40°F and 12°C/53.6°F.” The assistants jump to his command, altering the temperatures. Otto steps up beside me and peers at my notepad. “We’ll need three volunteers to step forward.”

I drop my gaze to my notepad, praying Danner doesn’t step forward. One set of clogs steps out of line and a cold sweat covers the back of my neck as I glance up, finding him standing directly across from me. It takes everything in me not to shake my head at him.

Otto clears his throat and takes a step forward. “We need two more. Come on now.”

One of the soldier assistants ignores Otto’s request for volunteers and pulls two men out of the line, tossing them toward Danner. “Done,” the soldier says.

“I’ll go into the lowest temperature tub,” Danner says.

The same soldier who grabbed the two volunteers shoves each of them in front of a tub.

All I can do is the one thing Otto told me not to do—stare at Danner. I want to scream at him, ask him why he would volunteer for the more dangerous of the three tests. Is it to make a point to me or Otto? What if my calculations were off? I’ve been under so much pressure and I’m not a scientist. All of my studying has been out of my area of knowledge and it’s all new.

I grind my teeth, clamping my tongue between them so I don’t do something I’ll regret.

“What are the durations for each?” one of the assistants asks.

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.

After a few minutes, we’ve gotten into a rhythmic pattern consisting of me checking vitals and the soldiers asking the three volunteers a series of questions while Otto transcribes the information.

At the ten-minute mark, I return to Danner to conduct the third round of vital checks. His temperature has dropped to 32°C/90°F and he’s beginning to convulse rather than shiver. It’s quicker than the estimated rate and temperature fluctuation from 36.11°C/97°F. With five minutes left, my heart races and my breaths quicken as I try to think up a plan quickly. Everything in my body aches as I watch what’s happening to Danner. Why are we here, like this? I’m not sure he’ll make it the full fifteen minutes before his temperature falls too close to 28°C/82.4°F, the life-threatening temperature for hypothermia.

“Can you tell me if you can hear me?” I ask, placing my hand on the top of his headgear. His eyes roll up behind his eyelids and his body stops convulsing. “Danner, look at me!”

“Emilie,” Otto shouts over me. “Stats for Prisoner 13415.” I spoke out his name. I’m not supposed to know him as anything but a number.

“We need to get him rewarmed at once. His vitals are falling,” I shout.

“The test is scheduled to run fifteen minutes. There are four minutes left,” one of the soldiers reminds me.

“He’s going to die if we don’t remove him from the water now.”

“He won’t be the first,” a soldier replies. “We must finish the test for accuracy on Dr. Dietrich’s report.”

I move behind the tub and drop my arms into the water to lift Danner up, but his body is lifeless. “Help me!”

“Drop him,” a soldier shouts. “You’re tampering with the data.”

“Emilie,” Otto says.

“Help me,” I snap at him.

“We’re not supposed to have any deaths today. The data will be smudged,” Otto says. I’m not sure what he’s talking about or what he means but he’s moving toward me, and it better be to help me lift Danner out of this tub of ice water.

I stare at his familiar lips, becoming bluer with every passing second…