people used to get in prison camps hundreds of years ago. Rotten, salty, stinking. The fish tiulka , which stinks even alive. That fish is born rotten. In Majdanek we were served bread filled with worms, iron and splinters of wood. Many prisoners choked on the things the bread was stuffed with. The NKVD whipped us with rifle butts and jabbed at us with bayonets or just used the nagayka , the horsewhip. The SS guards whipped us with the cat-o’-nine-tails and rubber truncheons. Both parties used a thin steel chain to break the kidneys. The NKVD mostly performed their executions by firing a Nagan at the nape of your neck. The SS were fondest of using a piece of rope on a butcher’s hook, with your toes just touching the ground. As you can see, you SS man, there isn’t a very great difference.’
He said this with a smile which betrayed the refined physician he once had been.
‘I am not in the SS,’ Krause protested.
A slight touch of sarcasm insinuated itself into Dr Stief’s dignified smile. ‘Many will say that when sometime here or in the hereafter accounts are to be settled.’
Porta growled ominously. ‘All SS men and NKVDs have volunteered. The fact that they later got cold feet is no excuse.’ He pointed at Krause. ‘You’ll always be an SS rat. The only reason we didn’t plug you a long time ago is because we’re going to give you up to see you broken on the wheel when we have our revolution. We’ve told you once and for all that you’re a swine, tolerated among decent people only because we have to tolerate you.’
Stief shook his head. ‘Why so bloodthirsty? He’s sure to be haunted by bad dreams when he gets old sometime . . .’
‘ If he gets old,’ Porta cut in, giving Krause a dirty look.
‘. . . and is sitting alone. That’s far worse than getting hanged.’
‘Allah is wise. Allah does what’s right,’ the Legionnaire chanted, bowing toward the southeast.
‘ Voos is baschjot ,’ Dr Stief mumbled like an echo.
‘At Fort Plive we had to sit on a long board when we took a crap,’ Brandt said. ‘Anyone who fell into the pit would drown in his own and others’ shit. Many got drowned. The SS and the head-hunters made bets among themselves how long you could hold out before you sank.’
‘There’s a board like that in Majdanek, too,’ the old Jew nodded. ‘Many are getting choked to death also in that pit. A person who falls into it sinks slowly, as in a swamp. He vanishes to the gurgling sound of small air bubbles. When he’s gone it looks like boiling porridge.’
Tiny spat out part of a goose leg and took a slug from a bottle of Prague beer. ‘In Brückenkopf 3 below Torgau we had to piss at each other when we shit in our pants. The black beers gave us diarrhea.’
We looked at Tiny, astonished. It was the first time we’d heard a single word about his time in prison. We had no idea what he’d done or where he’d been.
He took a bite of the salami sausage, spat it out again quickly, dipped the sausage in a bowl of wine and stuck it in his mouth. He continued talking with his mouth full, which made it difficult to understand what he was saying.
‘An U-Scharführer from Totenkopf broke my arm in three places.’
He began picking his teeth with the point of his bayonet and spat out capers in all directions. Then he drank a little from the bowl in which he had dipped the sausage. ‘He tore off my little toe with a pair of pincers, a brand-new pair.’
Tiny drank a little more Prague beer. He got up, picked up a big armchair, lifted it over his head and banged it on the floor four or five times until it smashed to pieces. He kicked the broken bits. ‘That’s what I’ll do to that SS U-Scharführer when I find him. I know he’s on duty in a camp on the Weser.’
He broke into a grin which boded no good for that particular SS man from Totenkopfsverband .
‘In Lengries they bastinadoed us,’ I said. I recalled a Christmas Eve long ago under bare poplars and
He said this with a smile which betrayed the refined physician he once had been.
‘I am not in the SS,’ Krause protested.
A slight touch of sarcasm insinuated itself into Dr Stief’s dignified smile. ‘Many will say that when sometime here or in the hereafter accounts are to be settled.’
Porta growled ominously. ‘All SS men and NKVDs have volunteered. The fact that they later got cold feet is no excuse.’ He pointed at Krause. ‘You’ll always be an SS rat. The only reason we didn’t plug you a long time ago is because we’re going to give you up to see you broken on the wheel when we have our revolution. We’ve told you once and for all that you’re a swine, tolerated among decent people only because we have to tolerate you.’
Stief shook his head. ‘Why so bloodthirsty? He’s sure to be haunted by bad dreams when he gets old sometime . . .’
‘ If he gets old,’ Porta cut in, giving Krause a dirty look.
‘. . . and is sitting alone. That’s far worse than getting hanged.’
‘Allah is wise. Allah does what’s right,’ the Legionnaire chanted, bowing toward the southeast.
‘ Voos is baschjot ,’ Dr Stief mumbled like an echo.
‘At Fort Plive we had to sit on a long board when we took a crap,’ Brandt said. ‘Anyone who fell into the pit would drown in his own and others’ shit. Many got drowned. The SS and the head-hunters made bets among themselves how long you could hold out before you sank.’
‘There’s a board like that in Majdanek, too,’ the old Jew nodded. ‘Many are getting choked to death also in that pit. A person who falls into it sinks slowly, as in a swamp. He vanishes to the gurgling sound of small air bubbles. When he’s gone it looks like boiling porridge.’
Tiny spat out part of a goose leg and took a slug from a bottle of Prague beer. ‘In Brückenkopf 3 below Torgau we had to piss at each other when we shit in our pants. The black beers gave us diarrhea.’
We looked at Tiny, astonished. It was the first time we’d heard a single word about his time in prison. We had no idea what he’d done or where he’d been.
He took a bite of the salami sausage, spat it out again quickly, dipped the sausage in a bowl of wine and stuck it in his mouth. He continued talking with his mouth full, which made it difficult to understand what he was saying.
‘An U-Scharführer from Totenkopf broke my arm in three places.’
He began picking his teeth with the point of his bayonet and spat out capers in all directions. Then he drank a little from the bowl in which he had dipped the sausage. ‘He tore off my little toe with a pair of pincers, a brand-new pair.’
Tiny drank a little more Prague beer. He got up, picked up a big armchair, lifted it over his head and banged it on the floor four or five times until it smashed to pieces. He kicked the broken bits. ‘That’s what I’ll do to that SS U-Scharführer when I find him. I know he’s on duty in a camp on the Weser.’
He broke into a grin which boded no good for that particular SS man from Totenkopfsverband .
‘In Lengries they bastinadoed us,’ I said. I recalled a Christmas Eve long ago under bare poplars and
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