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Tuesday, 7 February 2012

Day 44 - Murder Incorporated!.

Blog 44 of 44.  See Day 1 for an Introduction.  
Please note that this  page has very disturbing content!




"I was abruptly woken by cries and noise outside, the train coming to a long halt and a sudden stop.  Noise and a tumult of short orders, doors flung open, one after the other, until it came to ours with the shouting and ordering of Ër rausch", (Get Out!) I didn't notice the "Shweinhunden" bit but it must have been there too!  They continuously insulted us now, one gets quickly accustomed to being treated like an animal!  We were total wrecks, unshaven, bewildered, sick, frustrated, indifferent and completely disorientated - that's the way they wanted us to be!


The biggest part of all that was that it had been carefully planned and calculated with what they called, a proficient, German efficiency program.


Murder Incorporated was waiting for us en masse. All sorts of S.S. fighting and political units from the tarterus?, welcoming us with an authentic and theatrical bit of real teutontic? reversed charm.  Who ever amongst us still  had any doubts would find that, within a few seconds, all dreams of compassion would be dashed to pieces.  


The S.S. all had big grins, to compare those grins to hyenas would be an insult to the animals, I think.  Anyway, they were there in full force, ready to begin their lugubrious work as a business.


What transpired now one had to be there to believe it and even then it is hard to comprehend.


Whilst we started gathering and still some being carried out from the wagons, by their mates, I had a quick glance at the enormity of the camp and it's extensions afar from where I stood I couldn't see the end of it from my left side at all.  The security fence appeared to be double barbed with the outer electrified, once in there you were certainly well secured, no expense seemed to have been too much.  I had a quick glance at some of the inmates nearest to us, now.


Women, men, I couldn't see any children.  All dressed up as if ready for an enormous ball or carnival, moving along like zombies, some carrying between them, on long poles, a big barrel dangling in the middle.


It was more than enough to see, the threatening S.S. drew my attention now.  A tall, grinning, skull and crossbones S.S. officer shouted at the wagon occupants to bring out their wounded and half dead near to him and he stood legs spread out on what looked like woodpiles about twenty feet away.  He faced the whole miserable herd in length and breadth of our column as seeming to have descended from Dante's inferno.  He was gesticulating and waving his long arms with a luger in his hand in every direction possible.  


He might as well have had no uniform or flesh on his body, Death itself!


The wounded all very much alive pulled along by the S.S. soldiers and spread out at the officer's feet, some begging, I do not know for what - feeling death too near I suppose!   Now pointing his luger at us in a sinister way, laughing, he then began to shoot the lot of them, twenty to twenty four, one at a time in the head, some in the neck still hysterically laughing more and more now.  When he had finished he just went on laughing again as though he enjoyed the whole thing tremendously...
  
We just stood there perplexed as though we had arrived in another hell hole, which was another inferno being stoked up for us, beyond any credibility.


A French Officer, a few paces from me, detached himself from us giving us the usual gesture as if he was going to relieve himself but about twenty feet from our end of the column stood an S.S. motorbike.  A German policeman was in between and slightly sideways probably wondering what the Frenchman had in mind at that moment.  The man kept coming on so that the S.S. officer noticed it and screaming loudly to the police officer, he said, "shoot him quickly, he is after my bike". 


At this the policeman shot him in the leg at close range which made the Frenchman tumble in his length backwards; he got up again and now putting his arms up for the surrender sign.  The S.S. officer still storming forward in a rage now, howled to the policeman, "shoot him" and they shot him in the heart.  When he did that, in hesitancy, it was the Coup de Grace to finish it off!


To be continued ...

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