RANK UPON RANK we stood that hot September morning in 1944, more (continued)
.. and... you shall be My witnesses both in Tenisalene and in all Judea, and Samaria. .
Acts 1s 81 NEB
2. Witnesses Unto Me
IT WAS A week after Betsie had died in Ravensbruck that I took my place in the ranks of women prisoners standing together in the icy cold of the early morning.
"66730!" "That is my number," I said weakly as we took our places for roll call.
"ten Boom, Cornelia." "That is my name," I thought. How strange that they would call me by name when they always addressed us by number!
"Come forward." We were falling in line for the roll call. Ten ina line, every one hundredth woman, one step forward. My friends looked at me sadly.
"What does it mean?" I asked inwardly. "Punishment... freedom... the gas chamber . . . sent to another concentration camp?" There was but one thought that comforted me. "What a joy that Betsie is in heaven. No matter what terrible things now happen, she will not have to bear it."
The guard, a young German girl, shouted at me. "Nr. 66730!"
I stepped forward, stood at attention and repeated the necessary words.
"Schutzhaftling ten Boom, Cornelia, meldet sich."
"Stand on Number 1 on the roll call."
I went to the place to the far right, where I could overlook the entire square of the bleak camp. Standing in the crowd I could not feel the draft, but now, standing in the bitter cold, the wind whipped through my ragged prison dress. Another girl, young and frightened, was sent to stand beside me. Roll call took three hours
LOZ,
TRAMP FOR THE LORD 193 and we were almost frozen. She saw how cold I was and rubbed my spine when the guards were not looking.
"Why must I stand here?" I asked through chattering teeth. Her answer was barely audible as it came from her blue lips. "Death sentence." I turned back to the Lord. "Perhaps I'll see you soon face-to-face, like Betsie does now, Lord. Let it not be too cruel a killing. Not gas, Lord, nor hanging. I prefer shooting. It is so quick. You see something, you hear something, and it is finished."
I looked back at the young girl beside me. "Lord, this is perhaps the last chance I will have to bring someone to You before I arrive in heaven. Use me, Lord. Give me all the love and wisdom I need."
"What is your name?" J asked her softly, glancing always to see if the guards were looking.
"I am Corrie," I whispered. "How long have you been here?" "Two years." "Did you ever read the Bible?" "No, I never did." "Do you believe God exists?"
"T do. I wish I knew more about Him. Do you know Him?"
"I do. Jesus, His Son, came to this world to carry our punishment. He died on the cross, but He rose from the dead and has promised to be with us always. My sister died here. She suffered so much. I, too, have suffered. But Jesus is always with us. He did a miracle in taking away all my hatred and bitterness for my enemies. Jesus is willing to bring into our hearts God's love through His Holy Spirit."
Tiny listened. For almost three hours we talked while the guards completed the roll call. It was a miracle, for I had a chance to explain many things about Jesus. The prisoners behind us listened, too. I felt happy. Perhaps this was my last chance in life, but what joy!
I continued. "Jesus wants to live in your heart. 'Behold, I stand at the door and knock,' He says. 'If anyone opens the door, [ll come in.' Will you open the door of your heart and let Him come in and change you?"
"T will," she said. "Then talk to Him. Tell Him whatever you think. Now you have a Friend who never leaves you alone."
The siren sounded and the guards shouted at the prisoners. "Get to work!" Thousands of women prisoners were running to their places where they had to march to their work. Tiny disappeared from sight. Only I was left standing in my place where I had been ordered not to move. I still did not know what fate awaited me.
I did know, however, that the God who never slumbers nor sleeps was now with Tiny. And Tiny knew it, too. Neither of us knew at that time how important that was going to be to her in the next few days. But above the din of the concentration camp, I thought I heard the singing of the angels.
Then I heard my name called. Was it death? Oh, thank God, no. It was life. I was being released. I later learned it was through an administrative blunder, but even then J knew it was not the end of an era—it was just the beginning. Ahead of me was the world.