German women forced to remove their clothes – what followed shocked everyone

German women forced to remove their clothes – what followed shocked everyone

Take off your clothes right away. The order came in a dry voice across the entire yard. Women's tent Germans froze as if the war had just ended suddenly, just to break them. All lies that they had been taught about the American soldiers brought them back to the throat. Someone whispered: "It's here is where dignity dies.

" But no one did not dare to move. Then the impossible happens produced. The guards moved aside as if they were afraid of what they could discover. On the thigh of one of the women appeared a trace faded anchor, a little blurry sign, tiny, capable of rewriting the history of the war. What this sign would reveal decades from now later was the secret that no nation did not want to speak out loud high.

If you want to know how this moment became a secret that almost erase it from history, subscribe and watch the video. They arrived in silence, escorted by men who seemed more exhausted than victorious. June had covered Bavaria with glass if so bright that it seemed indecent. The world was blooming again despite the ashes which was still in the air.

The camp of Owenfels at the foot of the hills looked like a new skeleton. Closing right, pointed watchtower. Nothing here looked like the nightmare that German propaganda had painted. However, the thirty women passed the gate as one enters a tomb. They were actilo secretaries, radio operator, the one who had went through the war in offices clean, lubricating the cogs of a conflict fueled by the blood of others.

Their boots were worn, their uniforms deformed by weeks of walks. Sweat broke through each fold. The dust transformed the breathes in a whisper. But the fear that she wore had something primordial. Near the front of the column marched Lisel Brenner. His fingers squeezed tight a broken pencil in his pocket.

The last piece of life before the world does not turn upside down. She kept her chin straight pride, but because otherwise fear would have bent the chines. An order cracked the morning. Hold on tight here, said an American sergeant, cutting them off the road. His German wore a accent, the vowels twisted by a country who had never tasted bread from rule.

He stared at his tablet as if paper had more humanity than the women trembling before him. Then he looked up and said seven words which cut the air like a knife. Pull your skirts up above the knees. They all froze at once as if the order was stuck in their throat and forced them into silence. Greta to Liselle's side inhaled sharply between his teeth.

Someone at the end of the column groaned. Another whispered something that looked like a prayer swallowed halfway. The problem was not the order in himself, but what he promised. For years they had been told this what would be done to German women when the GlassMarthe would fall. Shame before death, humiliation before clemency.

And now this, a simple order issued with banality like a request to push oneself on a sidewalk. Liselle's heart began to beat his chest. She squeezed her tighter pencil until the wood bites of the skin. This little pain kept afloat. The sergeant took a step aside and pointed to a medical tent beige. Examination for diseases.

Micose, infection, severed foot. You have walked too long. Do what we tells you and it will be over quickly, he added, repeating the gesture. Impatience shone through his words. The The curtain of the tent suddenly opened. A woman out. Army officer American, short sleeve, uniform impeccably repacked, boot dusty from a long service, hair pulled into a tight bun, not a strand did not escape....