Angel of Auschwitz (17 page)

I woke up some time later. I found myself lying naked in front of the blue room. The sky was black, and the air was cold. From my heart I prayed: “Father God, please save my life. Give me the strength to reach my bed tonight. Thank you. Amen.”

F
OR TWO DAYS AND
nights I lay motionless. Even the slightest twist or turn caused excruciating pain. My bones ached. My nerves were fried. I could not eat. I could barely see. Clumps of hair fell out of my head. Old Mother stood by my bedside, praying for a miracle healing. Then Aniela and Klara came to channel divine energy. They held their hands above my head and heart, and healing energy emanated from their palms. The healers whom I had trained gave me the healing that saved my life.

Word spread quickly throughout the nation of crows. “Natasza is ailing. Gather food and flowers.” My crow allies foraged the fields and the forests near the abandoned potato farm. They returned with juicy red berries, succulent plums, and other fruits of the season. They carried sprigs of mint in their beaks and medicinal herbs. They plundered the nests of neighboring birds and brought me the eggs of the finch and the starling. They gathered the blossoms of daisies and wild roses.

Praising the crows for their dedication to our cause, Aniela graciously accepted these gifts from the bosom of nature, the greatest mother of all. She held them up to her heart, then gently sprinkled the flower petals around my head. The fragrance of flowers offered the essence of healing.

Like their Jewish counterparts, the crows were genetically adapted for survival. A clever and intelligent mind was a valued feature of bird and human alike.

A
NIELA SAT DOWN ON
a wooden crate by my bedside. As she reached out to hold my hand, her inquiring brown eyes looked searchingly into mine. “Dearest sister,” she said, “what makes you so brave? I have watched you challenge the power of the Reich. I have seen you defy the orders of the Commandant. You are willing to endure suffering, inviting your own death, in your dedication to healing and the cause of freedom. You stand a head taller than the rest of us, even though by stature you are small.”

“Blessed Aniela,” I answered her, “what I can do is possible for all of us. I am completely committed to the mission that God has entrusted to me. Every particle of my being is focused on my life work. I know that God has confidence in my ability to succeed. When I feel the pain of my people, I cannot stand by or turn away. My heart knows true compassion. I am one with all life. I am one with you. I am one with everyone.”

“You are so wise, Natasza,” she exclaimed. “I admire your courage.”

“Courage does not mean the absence of fear,” I responded. “It means rising above the fear, not being controlled by the fear, going forward in spite of the fear. Fear is overcome by living your life purpose. Fear dissolves when you surrender to love.”

W
HILE
I
WAS SLEEPING
, a message was being sent to my subconscious mind. My brain waves shifted in frequency, and my psyche was cast adrift in a sea of dreams. I saw an image of myself as a truth seeker walking through a dark forest. I had wandered off the beaten trail and had lost my way in the dense underbrush. I was on an important mission, and I prayed for direction. A wayfarer appeared out of nowhere and crossed my path at just the right moment, guiding me to safety. The man hobbled slowly forward, leaning on a wooden staff. It was Boris! In his ethereal dream voice Boris called to me, “Arise, Natasza. Prepare for an emergency!”

T
HE RAIN POUNDED DOWN
like hard rubber bullets, dropping from the midnight sky. Bolts of lightening broke the sky in two. Electricity charged the air.

The crows were banging their beaks on the roof of my barracks, trying to wake me up. Boris tapped me on the shoulder, then whispered in my ear, “Arise, Natasza! Destiny is calling. Come with me.”

Opening my eyes I heard the crows hammering intently on the roof above me. Quickly I dressed and grabbed my kit of medical supplies. Like a soldier preparing for battle, like a wolf before the hunt, I braced myself to face danger and death. The thunder shook the ground under my feet as I walked. Boris merged his astral presence with my auric field. Thus aligned energetically, we set forth concealed by the darkness. With Boris as my protection I was invisible to enemy eyes.

Our destination was forbidden territory, the men’s quarters of the camp. At midnight we reached barracks 22. As we stood in front of the door, he separated his energy field from mine. “You must go in alone,” he telepathed to me.

Taking a deep breath, I focused my intention and created my own shield of invisibility. Then I daringly stepped into the room, not knowing what I was going to find there.

In the center of the room was a long cot. Lying in a stupor on the cot was an old man, gaunt and frail. Three iron men surrounded him, the bullies of the Reich, kicking and beating the defenseless man. His skin was pale. His hair was white. His eyes were sunken deep within his skull. He appeared to see nothing, as if he were blind. His pointed white beard was drizzled with blood. He was my uncle Jacob!

I watched in horror, not knowing what to do. I felt the urge to plunge forward, to stop the torture, to rescue him from certain death. But I had to stand back, or both of us would have died. Helplessly, I watched as they brutalized the old man. The sergeant raised his leg and kicked Uncle Jacob’s face with the heel of his boot, breaking his nose.

No longer could I maintain my composure. A rush of adrenalin surged through me. The sheer brutality of the torture triggered me emotionally,
and my shield of invisibility collapsed. In that instant, the brute sergeant spotted me. The guards grabbed me and brought me to a concrete cell. I spent the night locked inside the jail, while the rats outside ran free. The next day I was to face the Commandant.

T
HE COLD METAL DOOR
of my concrete cell opened.
Clang
. “Hurry! Get ready to meet the Commandant,” the guard warned me. Moments later, two soldiers grabbed me and brought me to the doorstep of the Commandant.

After dismissing the guards, Heinrich Schuller paced back and forth across the room, his hands clenched tightly behind his back. He was mentally preparing to make his move, deliberating on the game at hand. Squaring off to face me, he played his role as my interrogator. He assumed the posture of a Grand Inquisitor looking for heretics who defied his authority. I was on trial as a freedom fighter because I stood up for the Truth.

Preparing to confront my adversary, I drew Archangel Michael’s sword. As the blue flame of Truth enveloped me, the power of Truth surged through me. All fear left me. I stood uncompromising in the Truth.

“Rebel child,” he said, challenging me, “what makes you so fearless? Why don’t you obey my orders?”

“My obedience is to the Truth,” I proclaimed. “The Truth is invincible. The Truth shall not be moved. The Light of Truth shall overcome. Victory to the Truth!”

“Fear is our number one weapon. Why don’t you succumb to fear?” he persisted.

“When I am helping others I forget about myself. The love I feel for my people overrides concerns for my survival. Fear has no power in a heart graced by love.”

“There is only one truth,
Fraulein:
the one manufactured by the state. Submit to authority, or you will die.”

I stood tall before my interrogator:

B
Y CONSCIOUS CHOICE
I had disobeyed the orders of the Gestapo. Commandant Schuller believed that he had no choice, that he had to comply with the dictates of his superiors. His bible was written by an iron hand.

My punishment was intended to break my will. Commandant Schuller had given the order: torture by whipping.

Sergeant Streiker was eager to begin. He held his whip stretched out between his hands, impregnating it with the power of evil. He spat at my feet with disdain. I stood for the Truth, enemy number one of the forces of Darkness. I stood for freedom, trusting in God for my salvation. Truth and freedom walk hand in hand.

Like a mad showman at a circus, he whisked his whip around and around, whistling all the while. He circled it around and cracked it up and down. He gave his performance with stunning agility. Using clever maneuvers he tried to terrorize me, provoke me, and break me down. He cracked a big grin as he played his game of intimidation. The whip was an angry viper dancing to the tune he whistled. It hissed like a snake preparing to strike. But I knew the venom of evil cannot poison the hearts of God’s servants.

“Recant or die!” he spat again, threatening me. As he cracked the whip above my head, the tail caught a bunch of my hair and yanked it from my scalp.

“Repeat these words:

“Never!”
I shouted back. “I will never betray my vows to God. I will die first before I tell a lie.”

Thus began hours of torture. When it was over, I collapsed onto the ground. My back was bleeding, burning with raw pain. My soul departed on a journey to meet my Maker. By God’s grace, my crow allies
arrived in the nick of time. They dropped pink rosebuds over my heart to revive my broken body. Then came the angels of mercy, who retrieved my soul and returned it to my temple of flesh. It was not my time to go. I still had unfinished business. My debates with the Commandant were not yet complete.

T
WO GUARDS GRABBED ME
and dragged me to Commandant Schuller’s office. I walked into the room with my head bowed, expecting the most severe punishment to be meted out. The air in his office seemed oppressive. I felt an impending sense of doom. This time, there was no tray of chocolates, no schnapps. This time, there was no banter of ideas and philosophies, no mental gymnastics. This time was the last time.

“I offer you the bargain of your life,” he said, trying to persuade me. “Pledge your allegiance to the state. Obey my orders. Then you will be saved. Then you will be rewarded. You will be treated preferentially and receive more food, even scraps of meat. Your life will be much easier when you submit your will to the authority of the Reich. What do you say, Natasza?”

I felt a rush of adrenalin. Then I stood up straight and tall. Claiming my power, I drew the Sword of Truth and pointed it directly at him. “I will not make a deal with you. I will not bargain with the Truth.”

“This is an ultimatum,” he retorted. “Speak the truth and die, or lie to save your life.”

I knew my words would seal my fate. All fear left me. I was standing in the Truth. “I am married to the Truth,” I answered him. “Not even death can separate us.” Daggers of light shot out of my eyes. Sparks of blue fire flew out of my mouth as I dared to speak the truth.

“Brave words fly like sparks from the mouth of a child,” he said, commending me. To my surprise he got up from his desk, clicked his heels, and saluted me. “I admire you for your bravery, rebel child, but I am not free to let you go. I have a job to do. I am obligated to follow orders.”

In spite of his power, the Commandant of Auschwitz was not free. He had surrendered his power of choice. Even the Führer was a prisoner of his own madness and fanaticism. “I order you to death by firing squad. You are dismissed.”

P
ART
S
EVEN
My Destiny

W
ALKING OUT THE DOOR
of command headquarters, I squinted in the bright light of day. I struggled to focus my vision on reality.
How many more days will I live on this Earth?
I wondered.

“Do not grieve over your fate, my child,” I heard telepathically. As I made my way along the hard and dusty road, I sensed an astral presence close at hand.

“Oh, dear Boris, welcome friend!” I exclaimed.

“This is not your first life. It is not your last. You have lived and died a thousand times,” explained the professor.

“Do you mean I will live again to see the sun and the rain, to cry and love and dance for joy?”

“Yes, child. That is your destiny, and so it shall be. Realize that the memory of this life is imprinted on your soul. You will be born again, to Jewish parents in the United States, before this war is over. When you awaken to your innate divinity, you will write the true story of your life, to tell the world what you have learned. The act of writing will heal your emotions. It will purge you of dark residues from the core of your being. The process of reading will heal the races and nations of the world from prejudice and intolerance. No longer will they be able to justify vengeance and retaliation.