Day 67 - Big Targets and Russian Prisoners!

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 ...

Day 66 - Attitude! and Ukranian Blackshirts!

In August 1944, I was assigned to Middle or Mi-bau, the Eastern part of the center building still under construction for Gouzloff; there were trenches that had to be made for strong, thick cables, roads and small annexes.  The roadworks were called strassen bau Entw - short for Entwalterung).


All this work was performed under the close scrutiny and control of a patrolling S.S.  We were located near the last guard fence with the gate end towards Weimer.  The work force was supplemented by Ukranian, S.S. blackshirts - somehow, they would try to socialize with us and share their small cobs or sweet corn, which were the results of the latest experiments by the German food specialists.


This fraternization was becoming dangerously close to a catastrophe for all of us.  There was a particular S.S. guard who was continually sneaking up on us -trying to catch somebody - the prisoners by preference!  This was to obtain his three day vacation bonus which could be obtained by finding reasons to punish a victim for some form of disobedience.


By now, we had all been getting over-confident about using our hiding place to eat the rations we had saved to absolve our hunger pangs.  Somehow, we may have been given away or by using a signal the S.S. guard might have been informed!  The blackshirts had a victim ready in the trap. 


So, it happened when my turn came - I tasted that coal tar jam and suddenly as if from nowhere bees appeared.   I had never seen or noticed them in that place before.  Just as surprising to me, a bad product from the S.S. popped up in the unfinished doorway.  Giving me a grin of satisfaction now with his sadistic nature being worked up to a peak.


I hardened myself for what was to come but also knew that I had to contain my violent strength, to be used, if necessary, at the end as a last resort - similar to what I had done before.  Slowly, he came to stand in front of me, his legs wide apart, studying my badges and in the meantime putting on his gloves.   He gave another strange, close look to my red triangle with my nationality and he was now ready, so was I!


All in strict orders, he then told me to stand straight to attention and not to move.  With his full strength and weight behind it he swung his fist in a right hook and then told me to stand to attention again, giving me a left punch now, on both occasions right on the jaw.


I went halfway down on every swing but straightened up again for the next.  He knew I was tough and hard and I saw amazement in his eyes now, more in admiration than a further challenge - probably he was hurt too and tired out.  As a last resort, he picked up a plank which was laying nearby.  The plank was about arms length and about two inches thick.


Grinning again, probably with self-gratification and facing me full frontal again  he indicated towards the entrance opening that was to be for the door.  He told me to make a run for it as soon as he gave the order.  I had to by-pass him of course - the obstruction would make my run more difficult.


His game was worse than cat and mouse play and all the dice were on his side but I persevered.  There was no choice but to endure what I was about to receive.  So, on his yelling, I started on my way, not bumping into him but with the awful result of my ducking to the right - I got the full impact of the plank in the center of my back.


By now, my sense of feeling had gone numb as on previous occasions during my escapes and also because of my state of being, which was as hard as the plank itself by now.  The instrument of my torture had snapped without him having to throw it at all.  When he applied the following six beats they came to be only half as hard as the first one.


He appeared to be astonished and told me to get on with my job in the trench at the same time taking a long last look at me.  I picked up my pick again and worked strenuously as if nothing had happened until he was very well out of sight.


Then suddenly the reactions were setting in and I could feel the pain in my jaws and could hardly move them after a while - my back was not too bad.  A boiling anger for revenge was the next thing that swelled up in me - I never did meet up with him again until he was killed at liberation time.


For myself, I came to the conclusion that if I had to, with more toughening up I could probably walk through a wall.   The sores gave me trouble for a couple more days.  That incident taught me not to trust anybody, not even for a few seconds - that was the best alternative/attitude I could take.


In the dawn of the next morning, while waiting our turn to get out of the gate and with our solemn heads bobbing up and down we were marched until we were facing the sunrise.  At the same time, being watched for the slightest mistake by the angels of death - the music driving us by might or force!


"Today, I found the following quote and thought it was very relevant to some parts of my Dad's Memoirs.  In particular, I was very touched by my Dad's recollection of the little girls at Auschwitz, they knew they were going to die and threw bread over the fence towards my Dad's group.


"We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms -- to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way." -- Viktor Frankl


To be continued ...

Day 65 - Starvation and Cannibilism!

A few German homosexuals tried out the "Army of the Damned", only to be destroyed in the process.  They were put in between the Germans and the Russians.  I don't know where one's breaking point is, it differed greatly from person to person.  Some people never talked or gave anybody away while others talked under the simplest of tortures.


My new block was now next to the fence in the Guinea Pig block or experimental block.  It was also the center for the combined operations of the  camp resistance, we were the main group.  The rest of the resistance network was spread out evenly in all the blocks.  At this point, the biggest threat to us were the German Greens, they were the rascals.  They were still patriots and used as "Ferrets" - so we had to replace them as quickly as possible - we got rid of them through concessions given to us by the S.S. - due to our status as political prisoners.


The S.S. still needed us to fulfill their programs for the delivery of new weapons.  The war was now beginning, more and more to take a turn against the Germans and so our rights as political prisoners had to be considered more carefully now.  This balance was achieved through a transition that sent the worst elements into oblivion!


Due to this new perspective, we were now supplied with a bit more food, this   only lasted for a very short time.  The extra food was in the form of a thin porridge in the morning and Austrian cigarettes supplied by the S.S., later in the day.  However, we were soon back to Magorka cigarettes , which consisted of  chopped stems from Russian tobacco plants - made from the bottom dregs of Russia's country vineyards at Moselle.  We could buy these with our Marks - these small pauses, in our daily routine, gave us a bit of a breather. 


By June or July the heat was pretty constant now -  so our small slice of bread, with a finger of margarine, was now supplied in the evening.  This was  before the watery soup round, which sometimes had the addition of a small amount of salami or jam. The allocation of food was all experimental stuff or at least most of it.  They were always figuring out what was the minimum amount of food/rations that we could eat while still being of use to them.


The bread consisted of a lot of potato flour with straw in it and other local products - only some of the wheat was present as far as we saw and knew, the remainder consisted of birch nut flour and lots of chestnuts.  The margarine and jam were all concoctions and produced by the coal industry. 


The meat or salami - unknown to us in its consistency - was about one half an inch thick and one inch wide - it didn't last long either with its meager supply.  Sometimes, they made our rations smaller to suit themselves and then the ravages of hunger after that were terrible for us!


If you are wondering whether cannibalism had taken place - yes, we had heard of it.  One night, a body was laying outside in the quarantine area, waiting to be collected and in the morning the body was missing a foot. 


Nobody saw what happened!  New arrivals were constantly coming in via transports on an ongoing basis, usually from worse conditions, very likely coming over to die, which was more usual than unusual near the end...

Day 64 - The Army of the Damned

I think I had the luck of innocence on my side.  I  never had to wear an exclusive striped suit with big targets on it like other recaptured escapees. I don't know who I had to thank for that but it was as if my file had been changed or disappeared - or as if , "the organization" was looking after me.  However, I was still in the camp so danger was lurking at every corner.
The confusion was probably helped along by the fact that the Germans, even with their over-efficiency, had too much going on to be concerned with every detail happening within the camp. 


At times, we thought the S.S. played darts when picking victims for execution.  Frequently, they would call out random names over the loud speakers.  When this happened we always sat in fear, minute by minute, expecting to hear our name being called at any moment - we never saw anybody coming back from those calls!   Often, the S.S., would have to come and fetch their victims and drive them up and away like reluctant animals to the slaughter -  realizing that their time was up the chosen victims would often resist until the very end!


I can see all these episodes vividly in my mind as clearly as the day they happened.  We just slithered through it all by sheer luck, resilience, strength and endurance.  For your own sake, you had to be like Samson and also very much like a soldier at the front - there really was not much difference except that a soldier at the front could shoot at the enemy.


No matter how desperate we became there was no way you could join the S.S.
What did happen was that you could join, "The Army of the Damned", under the impression that you could make a quick getaway....