The roll-call, or appellplatz, gong woke me from my fitful sleep, and I rolled out of the bunk I shared with three other women groggily. It was 4:15 in the morning, and a few lone crickets could be heard chirping outside as though we were in a peaceful meadow.
I had been in Compiègne for almost two weeks, and the misery of life had become simply a dull ache in my mind. I was broken, left only with the feelings of hunger and heartbreak for what I had lost.
     The locket with a small photograph of Benjamin was covered in grime, but my fingers instinctively reached for it beneath my shirt every few minutes. That necklace and my wedding ring were all I had left.
     Following everyone else in the barrack outside to be counted for the day, I looked up at the shining moon that had almost reached a full revolution. Perhaps Benjamin is looking at it too, I thought, soon realizing that he was probably still fast asleep.
     The Nazi soldier called each of our assigned numbers loudly and without giving us more than a glance. Until he came to me.
     "One-hundred and eighty two," he said loudly.
     I stepped forward and back into place like I did every day, but the man motioned for me to approach him. My heart raced as I followed his instructions.
     Standing to face the group of two hundred prisoners standing there, I tried to keep my composure.
"Wie heissen Sie?" the soldier asked in both German and broken French. What is your name?
"Anne-Laure Gilbert," I answered softly, avoiding eye contact with him.
"Are you sure?"
Narrowing my eyes at the question, I nodded firmly.
"Where are you from?"
I could feel myself being pulled into a trap, but I had no choice but to answer the questions innocently.
"Marseille," I stammered, "but I went to boarding school in Germany."
Suddenly, the soldier punched me with all his might, and I fell to the ground in shock.
"Tell me where you're really from!" he screamed at me, kicking me in the gut while I was still on the ground.
Terrified, I tried to crawl away as I cried, "I don't know what you mean! Please, I don't understand!"
I did, in fact, have a pretty good idea of where this was going. My mind reeled; I hadn't told a single person here that I was from the United States.
"You're an American!" The soldier grabbed me by the hair and pulled me inches away from his sweaty face.
"I'm not!" I could barely think.
He said something to a guard standing nearby that I didn't even hear, and the man suddenly pulled a teenage girl from the lines of prisoners, forcing her to her knees beside me and putting a gun to her temple.
"Confess or she dies," the maniacal soldier holding me yelled into my ear, "I know you speak English!"
I sobbed hysterically and the girl gave me a helpless glance. She seemed to convey that whatever happened wasn't my fault, but I just couldn't let her die.
I heard the gun cock.
"Okay," I screamed in English, unable to control my tears, "Wait, wait, wait! Don't hurt her! Please, I'll do whatever you want."
     The officer smirked, then turned to the man holding the gun to the girl's head.
     "Go ahead," he said.
     Before I could move, her blood splattered all over my face and she slumped to the dirt beside me. I couldn't even breathe, the gunshot pounding in my ears and drowning out the gasps of the prisoners watching the whole thing.
The soldier holding me suddenly threw me to the ground and began kicking me viciously in the gut. I could barely gasp for air through his blows, and he punched me in the jaw so hard I heard a small crack.
Something seemed dislocated, but I didn't even have time to think about it before the next hit came, knocking me almost unconscious.
Just then, he pulled me up by the hair and spat, "Next time, I hope you'll properly register with the Reich, Miss Gilbert."
With a terrifying jerk, he kicked me back to the ground with his hand still entangled in my hair, causing a patch of matted curls to rip from my scalp. I screamed in agony.
Lying in the dust, I choked in as much air as I could to catch my breath, feeling the blood drip from my head and onto my forehead.
The other prisoners filed back into the barracks, and one of the Nazis standing around dragged me to my feet and towards one of the different barracks.
"That's not," I sputtered meekly, "that's not where I'm assigned."
"It is now. You've been reassigned; Americans and political prisoners are in a different area."
I was too weak to respond.

     I awoke to the low rumbling of chatter all around me, grimacing in pain as I slowly opened my eyes.
     "Louisa, it's alright, wake up."
     I looked up to find a man standing over me that I had never met before. There's no way he should know my real name.
     Like I had practiced hundreds of times, I grumbled, "Anne-Laure. My mother's name is Louisa." Fear began to rise in my throat but I kept my composure.
     "Oh, no," he said calmly, "I'm talking to you, Louisa Tallmadge. I know who you are."
Confusion and panic seized my muscles as I realized this man was serious.
"Now you need to listen very closely, Frau Tallmadge," he said, putting a strong hand around my aching throat, "I turned you in to the SS officers, but I did not tell them anything more than the fact that you are American. If you would like to keep the rest of your identity a secret, you'll bring me your daily rations of food and supplies—"
I'd had enough. "Now you listen to me," I seethed weakly, using all my strength to remove his hands from my throat and pull them hard against each other until he was inches from my face, "You don't scare me. If you truly knew who I am, you'd know that I could break your arms if I wanted to. Or even your neck, if I decided to work up a sweat. I could handle myself even if you did decide to 'tell my little secret,' but I think you'll make the right decision, yes?"
"You don't know anything," he seethed.
     I quickly popped a joint in his thumb without breaking eye contact. He grimaced.
     "Never trust a Tallmadge," he said with a sickly smile, trying to pull away as I twisted his arms further in rage.
     "And who are you?" I said dismissively. If he wanted to claim he knew me, I knew he'd hate to be reminded of his anonymity.
He gasped as I came inches from breaking his arm.
     "It was certainly a pleasure to meet you," I said as I let him go and pushed him away as hard as I could from my position in the bunk.
He ran away in almost a panic, and I broke down in tears. My whole body was aching in pain, and I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my system.
"Hey," I heard a middle aged man with short, dark hair say softly in the bunk across from my, "why are you upset? I am amazed by your strength, Madame."
He leapt down from his bunk and knelt beside me, taking my hand comfortingly.
"I just want to go home," I wept, trying to regain my composure to no avail. I realized that I was imagining our house in Washington, D.C., not the apartment in Marseille, and it was then that I understood the reality that I might never see the United States again.
The man pulled me into a fatherly hug, the pain of his own loss evident in even the way he breathed.
"That man was terrified when you were speaking to him," he said with a small smile, "I was impressed. I've never seen anyone stand up to him like that."
I noticed his distinctly strange air of elegance, although he was just as tattered and starved as everyone else.
"What is your name?" I asked weakly, wincing in pain as I adjusted my head in the straw and felt the raw spot where my hair had been pulled out.
"Olivier La Rochefoucauld."
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. The La Rochefoucauld family was one of the most prominent aristocratic families in France, and I was more than acquainted with them. "Do you have a son?"
He chuckled a little at my statement. "I have ten children, my dear. But you are probably thinking of my son Robert, yes?"
"Yes. I met him—" I stopped myself. He was a British S.O.E. agent that I had met on a routine intelligence operation a few years ago. He was obviously supportive of the cause, but I was not sure if his whole family knew or even shared his convictions. Besides, I was hoping this man didn't know my identity either.
"In Britain?" he finished, a wry smile on her gaunt face, "Don't worry about me; you're the American, right?"
I nodded reluctantly. "You should be very proud of your son."
"I am. I haven't heard from him in a long—"
The barrack door slammed shut and we both instinctively flinched at the sound of German expletives.
"Prisoner 182," the man yelled, looking around at the sunken faces around him. That was me. I struggled to walk, holding tightly onto each bunk bed as I went, Olivier guiding me tentatively.
It was then that I noticed the vomit, urine, and blood covering the floors, and the stacks of bodies sequestered in the corner. Bugs the size of my fingers crawled over my bare feet as I walked. This place was much worse than the last barracks.
"Thank you," I stammered to Olivier, noticing his worried look as the soldier grabbed me roughly by the arm and led me into the sunlight and towards the main building.
My heart was pounding; I knew that terrible things were probably in store for me even if they did not know that I was the infamous Duchess of the Allies.
He led me down a series of whitewashed hallways with bright hanging lights and, although I tried my best to keep track, I was completely disoriented by the time the soldier pulled me into a room that looked like a normal doctor's office. Tears welled up in my eyes at the thought of Benjamin in his office.
"Sitz," the man commanded, as though I had a choice in the matter as he cuffed me to the chair.
He left without another word, and I wondered who was on the other side of the one way mirror.
A few minutes later, two officers filed into the room and began going through the drawers against the wall.
"What is your name?" the man said in broken French, not turning around to look at me.
"Anne-Laure. Wir können auf Deutsch sprechen." The man glanced back with raised eyebrows at my offer to speak German, turning around with a tray holding a large syringe. My stomach turned at the sight, but I gave no reaction.
     "Alright," the other said, "you have a choice today. We will ask you a few questions, and your cooperation will provide for your health and safety until our next...appointment. Let's start easily: What is your actual name?"
     I pursed my lips and sighed. "It really is Anne-Laure," I persisted, "Well, technically it is Anne and my middle name is Laura, but the girl I detested more than anything in college was named Laura, so I changed it to Laure."
     The two officers exchanged glances. "Perhaps we should have told you the other half of your choice. If you won't tell us why you're in German territory, we will have no choice but to give you a serum that will make it a little easier for you to tell the truth."
     I felt as though I was going to throw up, but I took a deep breath and said, "Alright; my answer still stands. My name is Anne Laura Gilbert. Of course, we pronounce 'Gilbert' a little differently in the United States." 
     My attempts to add unnecessary information—to catch them off-guard with my chattiness—seemed to only irritate them, and the one of a higher rank picked up the syringe in frustration.
     "I'm telling the truth!" I exclaimed, shirking from his touch as he reached for me arm, "Just give me a chance—"
     The thick needle pierced my vein and I could feel the serum flow into my body as he emptied the syringe. It hurt like the devil, but I was more worried about what it would do to my brain.
     "Why are you in France?"
     Every muscle in my body felt weak, but I could feel myself involuntarily tensing up all over. I was probably one of the first people this mixture had been tested on.
     "I came to live with a family friend before you came in and took everything over. You closed all the borders and I couldn't leave." A burst of searing pain flew down my spine and I couldn't help but cry out.
     "Why were you arrested and sent here?"
     "I don't—I don't know."
     The officer slapped me and it felt as though every nerve in my face had been cut. I sobbed.
     "Are there other Americans we don't know about?"
     "No, I swear I'm the only one! Please, I—"
     A balding man hurried into the room, his rank far above the other two and a look of indignation on his face.
     "Bist du verrückt?" he screamed at them, taking the man holding the needle by the collar, "Did you not listen to a word I told you?"
     I realized he didn't know I could speak German, and he was talking to these men accordingly. My vision was beginning to blur, but I noticed I had not yet felt the mental effects of the serum.
"You said that she was an American and dangerous," one of them offered defensively, "and to get as much information from her at whatever cost—"
"Not her life!"
I furrowed my eyebrows at the statement. Another rush of pain shot down my back and suddenly my legs lost all feeling. A loud ringing in my ear felt like a dark cloud threatening to overtake all other thoughts in my mind. This is not right, I thought, I'm going to die.
     He began rummaging through the drawers frantically, and the other two men stood haplessly to the side, unsure of what to do.
Turning back to face me with another syringe in his hand, the man roughly injected it into my neck, holding my head still as I suffered uncontrollable spasms.
I could feel myself losing consciousness in a state of otherworldly hysteria, but I was unable to even speak at that point. The weight of my locket necklace beneath my shirt felt burning hot and like it was crushing my chest, but it felt almost symbolic. Benjamin had burned in my heart until the very end.

TRANSLATIONS:
Wie heissen sie? - What is your name?
Sitz- Sit
Wir können auf Deutsch sprechen- We can speak in German
bist du verrückt?- Are you crazy??

*the La Rochefoucauld family was real, and Robert was a super awesome British SOE agent and French aristocrat (his family was super super famous). I couldn't find anything more about his family, so as far as I know the presence of his father in Compiègne is purely my imagination but look up Robert La Rochefoucauld because he's amazing

SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG THIS PROJECT IS FUN BUT TOTALLY ON THE BACKBURNER IN MY LIFE RN BUT I LOVE YOU GUYS THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT