I sometimes wondered about the first Commando's, the ones now guarded by dogs. They had grotesque, big targets displayed on their clothes. Everyday, the number of escapees from this group was diminishing. I could easily have been one of them! I had to keep silent and not talk too much to others. I understood the importance of accepting my position - not wondering too much!
The Russian prisoners, some of which, were soldiers and others were suspected of being commissars, wore drab, green uniforms with pointed hats like Mongolian and Tartar Huns. The Russians were now leading the column ahead of us, marching in rhythm, their heads bobbing up and down, passing the Caracho Weg, the guards, the eagle and away!
We were like robots, moving silently along, hardly aware of the music that was fading into the distance as we marched to the same rhythm. The woods and trees around us seemed to be weeping with crystal dew drops, all in array ready for another nice morning.
Not for us though - deep in thought! We were always aware that on one command from the eternal Mutzen ab, we could be poked with a bayonet or even worse could happen as we continued to march. The baboons and bear must have still been asleep, too cold for them. Anyway, what was the use of them watching the suffering of boring mankind!
A short while after this daily performance, I landed up in Gouzloff-Werke. I believe that my trade school background together with the assistance of the camp, "Underground Movement", were the auspicious symbols that had helped me get there!
We were all well acquainted with Gouzloff-Werke but it was still a big and great unknown for us!
To be continued ...
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