. . . Move! . . .”
Pfum . . . It all passed luckily . . .
“Work detail (Arbeitskommando), stand to attention! . . . ”
Again movement. We fall into line for the march, rows of five. Three hundred human beings, all are running over the place in the small square. Everyone is looking for his row of five . . .
And again clubs . . . Finally, we are standing. We are standing like this for a good half hour, ready to march out.
Finally it is said:
“In step! . . . Forward march! . . . Sing! . . .”
“The blue dragoons, they are riding! . . .”
I am marching in a row of five together with Ali. During the night, we had become somewhat stronger. I feel strong enough, but my behind is hurting; it is unbearable. From time to time, I palpate my body. Everything is swollen, hard, but the fever has subsided. Maybe phlegm will now not develop even though it is almost always a consequence of heavy blows . . . On the way, we pass by the Commandos of the Camp (work detachments), who are ready to march. I notice that some comrades are carefully searching for me in the rows . . . Someone is unnoticeably waving at me.
“Hang in there!”
I do what I can . . . We walk through the gate, and after a quarter of an hour, we have reached the gravel pit. On command, we run in all directions, each one to his group. I belong to Reinhold . . . The process by which one is added to the “new arrivals” is lasting for a week . . . Maybe I’ll make it through the day . . . I am very hopeful . . . We seize the carts. The number of “new arrivals” has increased. Some of the older ones had been transferred to us for disciplinary reasons. Reinhold is obviously in a bad mood. He is cursing more often than yesterday . . . That is a bad sign!
I was the first one to push the cart, cautiously and carefully. Don’t push too fast because this will exhaust too much energy, and don’t go too slowly because Reinhold . . . He is already beating up someone . . . This time it is a Czech. We are just pushing along the edge of the gravel pit. A meter to the right—there is a slope. And there is a hole about fifteen meters deep . . . That gives Reinhold a new idea . . .
“You pig!” he screams. “I shall show you how to push . . .!” He seized the cart out of the startled Czech’s hands and topped out the sand. “Get into the cart! . . .”
The Czech stands there undecidedly. However, the club of the Vorarbeiter is helping him to make a decision. Cautiously he steps into the cart. With ease Reinhold is lifting the load. He takes a run-up into the direction of the hole, and he is letting the cart with its contents plunge into the hole . . . We hear a terrible scream, a rumbling . . . and . . .
“Well done, Reinhold! . . .” The Kommandoführer is patting him on the shoulders with satisfaction . . . “Here, you have some cigarettes . . .”
The face of the young henchman is beaming. The cigarettes disappear quickly into his pockets.
“Yes, Kommandoführer!” fell his short answer. It sounded like the barking of a dog.
“Get on with it!”
We continued to push. Near a certain pile of sand, the car of the camp is parking. Vorarbeiter Gerhard stands near it. During better times, I had given him some soup once in a while. Surprised, he looked at me.
“Man, how do you look?”
I point towards Reinhold.
“Pst . . .”
He waved his hand aside.
“He can do to me somewhere . . .” followed by an indicative motion of his hand.
“Who has beaten you up like that?”
“He over there!”
“Wait . . . Listen . . .”
Gerhard takes Reinhold aside. They talk about something, and, after a while, I hear my number.
“Prisoner 8214,” I reported.
“Shut up!” Reinhold looked inquisitively at Gerhard. “That one?”
“Yes!”
“You come to me during the lunch hour every day.” He turned to me. “And now leave the cart and come with me . . .” Without looking at me further, he goes forward. Gerhard squeezes about ten cigarettes and a piece of bread into my hand.
Until lunchtime, I work at the sieve. I throw the loosely hacked gravel on it with a shovel. The finer gravel falls to one side, along with the sand; the coarser gravel falls to the other side.
What a royal job!!!
I am happy; I see the sun and hardly feel any pain. I shovel mechanically and let my thoughts wander.
The noon gong.
After I had gulped down my miserable soup, I run immediately to the hut. Reinhold is noticing me. He is bringing me a full bowl of soup.
“Here is your grub . . . , and if Gerhard has deceived me, then you better watch out . . .” After saying this, he nodded his head significantly.
“What do you mean by deceiving?”
“He has promised me twenty cigarettes weekly for you.”
I was frightened. Twenty cigarettes, that was an enormous capital in the camp. I reached into my pocket . . .
“I have just a few for you here,” I said, and I gave him the gift which I had just received a short while ago.
Without a word, he put them into his pocket. But when he walked away, he muttered briefly,
“Okay!”
I still retained him.
“However, I have still another favor to ask you.”
“What’s that?”
“My friend Ali is working with you. Perhaps you could let him work at my sieve . . .”
“Who is he?”
“The tall one from Danzig.”
“Good.”
After lunch I worked with Ali. Toward evening, the news spread among us that during the course of the day, a transport of Jews had arrived in the Punishment Company (SK) from the recently conquered city of Lemberg. Therefore, the work ended half an hour earlier. After that the Kommandoführer ordered a lineup of the Kapos, the Vorarbeiter and all prisoners who had a green corner on their outfit, which means the professional criminals. At the end he gave a brief speech:
“Because of good behavior you have been appointed Vorarbeiter. I do not have to explain to you what your duty is. You had time and opportunity enough to acquaint yourselves with it during your stay in the camp. The Jews are the ones whose supervisors you will be. In my commando, I only want to have Aryans . . . Understood?”
“Yes!
