The internment camp was hidden, miles away from Elne, in the foothills of the Pyrenees in the Ariège district close to Pamiers. It was a dark, forbidding setting, with rows of barbed wire and armed guards at the gates. Their truck was brightly labelled AYUDA SUIZA. No one could be in any doubt about their permit to visit. Documents were handed over, read and scrutinised. They were counted in and it felt like entering a prison, not a refugee centre. Flora shivered as they went into the miserable rows of shanty town barracks. They were directed to a hospital post, which was little more than a large shed, with camp beds and hardly any blankets. It was none too clean. And the medicine cabinet was empty of supplies.
The nurses immediately set to work examining the patients, filling the cupboard with bandages, antiseptics and medicines, while Flora, Anita and two others unloaded tins of dried milk, eggs, and whatever produce they had been able to acquire, into a wheelbarrow. They found what passed for a kitchen, where the women eagerly awaited them. Most were thin, with pinched cheeks. One woman was in tears, holding her hands in gratitude. ‘Thank you, thank you,’ she cried.
Today they would make a soupy broth, first for the children. Word got around that there would be a hot meal. Families began to queue, helping old parents, babies and young children to the front. Flora was glad she had delayed her departure to help out after two nurses fell sick. There was something sinister about this place, so carefully hidden from view. At least by the sea there was light, but here it was dark and must be grim in the winter snows. They set to chopping vegetables, slicing bread. Children were ushered to a large bench, where they could sup their broth. Some, without spoons, just licked the bowls like dogs. They were barefoot and covered in sores. Flora was used to the stench of unwashed bodies, but this was something else. One pregnant mother showed signs of a fever. They began to separate the sick children and babies, dishing out medicines with heavy hearts. Their supplies would not last long.
‘We can’t leave them here,’ Flora said and Anita nodded. It wasn’t the first time they had been faced with this dilemma. There was only one solution. ‘We can’t leave them here, or they’ll die while infecting the whole camp. The mothers must come with their babies.’
‘But how?’ said the lead nurse. ‘We have to abide by the rules. We are here under sufferance.’
‘I know what Elisabeth would say… “Suffer the little children…”’ Anita looked to Flora for support.
‘We back the lorry up and reload,’ Flora whispered. ‘With a few additions…’
‘We can’t smuggle them out. What if we’re caught? The trucks won’t be allowed back again. We have to think of the rest of them here.’
‘It’s a risk, but it’s been done before,’ Flora said, knowing other teams were smuggling children in the boots of their cars. The nurses huddled together to discuss what to do. Rebellious feelings were running high.
‘On your own head be it, Flora, but we’ll risk it.’
‘Then here’s the plan…’
They brought two of the sick mothers and babies to the hospital post for treatment. The babies were dosed with a sleeping draught, to quieten them, and the mothers inspected, washed and given aspirin. The nurses didn’t ask for names. That would come later. They waited until dusk, then hustled them deep inside the truck, covered with empty boxes and blankets.
Then slowly, ever so slowly, they crawled towards the entrance gate, hearts in mouths. ‘Look natural,’ Flora whispered. ‘Don’t look shifty. Look ahead, look at the map, anything but anxious.’
The guard peered into the cabin, checked the back of the truck, but the nurses were sitting forward, blocking his view. He counted them out and sent them on their way. They drove for miles, with pinprick headlights, and then stopped to let the mothers out to relieve themselves. Flora was driving. It was a long journey back, with many wrong turns, and her eyes began to close with weariness. It was not until the small hours of the morning that they finally arrived. The two girls and babies were taken to an isolation room, while staff looked on without comment. They all knew that the less they were told, the better.
Flora climbed up the stairs to her bedroom, barely able to move for exhaustion. If she was sent home tomorrow, at least two mothers and their babies now had a chance of survival.