Chapter 12 Chapter Eleven

At 4:30 in the morning, the Russian prisoners were dozing anxiously, but the head of the shed woke everyone up by shouting and cursing.The wooden sheds in the isolation camp were cold and smelly, and the three of them were squeezed tightly into a bunk, lying on grass mats covered with fleas and lice. This was the only sleep they had.Barrell.Jastrow jumped off the top bunk to wait for the roll call, still muttering his daily morning prayer: Listen, Israel.He should have washed his face before he prayed, but he couldn't because the water was a hundred yards away and it was forbidden at that hour.He added a short prayer from the Talmud for emergencies, and then said: "Let me live—let me live." Then it was time to stand at attention, and in midwinter in Poland, only Wearing a set of thin striped cloth national clothes, braving the biting cold wind, stood in the dark for more than an hour.

"Let me live" is a realistic heartfelt wish.On the one hand, no matter whether they have offended them or not, they have to be tortured heavily; in addition, they do endless gymnastics until the weakest body falls down; Naked people stood in line for the roll call, and it took a long time to do the roll call; there was also hard work—such as digging ditches, hauling wood, pulling stones, demolishing peasant houses in evacuated villages, and moving materials to the construction site for new sheds Ah, sometimes it's miles and miles—and on the other hand because the guards shoot anyone who stumbles or falls to the ground; The numbers on the roster of Russian prisoners in the isolation camps were thus rapidly dwindling.

In fact the Russian prisoners of war were becoming a great disappointment to the commander. Batch after batch of prisoners of war, only half of the agreed number reported for duty. Some were sick, some were weak, and some almost fell to the ground from exhaustion; the other half died on the road.With this deteriorating pile of rubbish as his workforce, he was ordered to carry out not one but several emergency construction projects.One is to double the headquarters of the concentration camp, which is located in the building of the tobacco monopoly company and the old barracks of the Polish army; the other is to make arrangements for the development of ambitious experimental farms and fish farms. Lay planned to use this as a physical exhibition of the façade of the Auschwitz institution; one was to build a brand new concentration camp of unprecedented scale in the town of Berglin, three kilometers to the west, to accommodate 100,000 prisoners of war to work for the ordnance factory; One is to start surveying and planning the construction site of the factory!So far, there is no concentration camp in Germany that can accommodate more than 10,000 prisoners of war.It was a thrilling errand, a proud one, and a chance to rise through the ranks, and the Commander knew it all too well.

But the higher ups don't give him hands.If he does not have a solid base of Polish and Czech political prisoners who can still work for a full day, plus a steady stream of new arrivals, the whole project will not be completed.In the labor brigades only the most physically fit Russians, perhaps ten per cent of each batch, are of any use.Just give these people something to eat, and they can regain their strength and live again.These guys can really bear hardships and stand hard work!Unexpectedly, they encountered a big problem in front of them: what is the real task of the 40 square kilometers of swampland assigned to the commander in the Auschwitz-controlled area, and now the higher-ups are confused.He deeply felt the heavy responsibility entrusted to a mere SS major, and he was eager to start a career.For a year and a half, he devoted himself to Auschwitz.When he came here to set up camp in 1940, it was just a desolate swamp, with only a few scattered houses and a few small villages.Now it finally looks like a place here!But what is the real requirement of him?Is it to maximize the development of military production, or to eliminate the country's enemies to the greatest extent?He still can't figure it out.

The Commander considers himself a soldier.He is willing to do anything.It’s impossible to do two things at the same time!However, the above kept issuing contradictory orders one after another.Take the case of Russian prisoners of war; in retaliation for the brutal treatment of German prisoners by the Soviet Union, Russian prisoners had to be treated "without mercy."Those in charge of political work, no matter how low their status, were to be shot immediately; for the rest, they were forced to work to death as slave labor, and to eat rations that were worse than dog food. ...Excellent, Director Himmler; but by the way, you ordered me over there in the town of Beglin (Brzezinka in barbaric Polish; Birkenau in beautiful German) What about building thousands of barracks?Ah, yes, there are barracks, ah, yes, there is also an experimental farm, ah, yes, there is also a factory!Come on, come on, let Stormtrooper Captain Hawes worry about all this.Hoss is a guy who lives up to expectations.All he could do was whine, and doom and gloom tirade about the impossibility of the mission, but in the end he followed orders.This guy is solid...

The Commander cherishes his reputation very much.He was determined to keep it, even in this heartbreaking situation, and would sacrifice himself for it if he couldn't.Like everyone else, he wanted to make his way in the ranks, to make his family famous, and so on.But Himmler, the head of the secret police, took advantage of his usual conscientiousness, which really discouraged him.It's just not fair. One cloudy noon, the commander stood in the snow outside the cremation site, wearing a thick coat against the razor-sharp wind, waiting for the arrival of three hundred Russian prisoners.These three hundred were selected from several batches of prisoners of war as political officials or persons of military rank who had been sentenced to death by the Assizes Military Court in Katowice.The commander had no complaints about the verdict.This war is a life-and-death struggle against Bolshevism.If European culture is to be saved, there must be no mercy for these barbaric oriental enemies.It's just a pity that there are a few people sentenced to death who are so strong.

At least if they die so that they are not completely wasted.Ask them to hand over important information.Major Hawes didn't like his subordinates to report good news but not bad news.As head of intelligence at Sachsenhausen, he had learned the hard way to do everything himself.Leaders at all levels in the concentration camps often like to lie about their achievements, cover up the truth, and exaggerate their efficiency far beyond reality.The last time, when the commandant was in Berlin reporting to Himmler, chief of the secret police, there were conflicting reports of the use of the battalion's most poisonous insecticide on Russian condemned prisoners in the basement of Barracks No. 11.A junior—he was actually the one who came up with the idea—claimed that they all died almost instantly.Others said that it took the Russians a long time to die, and that even though they were being gassed, they charged at a door in the basement and almost broke it open.If they really rushed out the door and let out that foul-smelling blue gas that filled the entire battalion headquarters, wouldn't they mess things up?

Still the same old problem of not paying attention to details.The basement door was not sufficiently reinforced, and the so-called seal in the basement was originally made of clay. How absurd!This experiment in the crematorium's death chamber was conducted under the personal supervision of the commander.The sealing performance has also been tested with chlorine gas pressurization; the result is satisfactory, but there is a faint smell of swimming pool near the door. Since then, the door has thickened the rubber gasket.The crematorium was far away on the pastures outside the concentration camp, and it was not exactly located in the middle of the main building like the No. 11 barracks.Just a little bit of common sense was missing: the Russian came over, with a frowning, terrible face, sunken eyes, dark circles around his eyes, wearing a tattered uniform with the big two, black letters on it; USSR.Guards with submachine guns escorted them on both sides.Their faces showed that they knew they were going to die, but their formation was still neat.Their clogs creaked and creaked on the snow, echoing eeriely like an army marching neatly.Incredible people!He had seen them fight like hungry wolves around the slop bucket thrown out of the SS kitchen in their work area, choked each other, yelled and cursed over a rotten potato; They wandered around like sleepwalkers, skinny and boneless, no different from walking corpses. No matter how the guards punched, kicked or threatened them, they shrank into a ball and fell to the ground bloody, but they didn't complain.But once they are organized into a team and given an order to them, so that they realize that they are in a group, then even though these Russians are weak and frightened, they will suddenly wake up and work like ordinary people. Will be marching again.

The captives entered the gray flat-roofed houses in a single file and disappeared.The guard was on the roof with the poison canister, guarding the newly dug tubular peephole.Three hundred people could be squeezed into this spacious, low concrete room, and this detail was checked.The traps in the peepholes were all sealed; that too was checked.The commander was walking up and down in the snow, waving his arms to keep warm, accompanied by three adjutants, all of them wearing green military uniforms that fitted them well.He is very strict about his uniform.As a guard, disheveled clothing is the beginning of the corruption of the camp.He had seen this earlier in his tenure at Dachau...

Action on the roof! At a certain time he entered the house, accompanied by his adjutant.Seeing the SS on duty in the house wearing a gas mask, the commander recalled for a moment the situation when he was a soldier in the last World War.He took a gas mask and put it on. He found that the scene in the death chamber was not done quietly.This is not a problem.There was muffled shouting and yelling through the door, but the sound could not be heard far outside.He checked his watch.It had been seven minutes since the action had begun on the roof.He took a step closer to the thick glass peephole in the door.

The blinding lights in the death room flicker on and on, but this goddam glass has to be replaced; it's so poor quality that everything looks yellow and dangling and out of shape.Most of the prisoners had already fallen down, one on top of the other, some were motionless, and some were still rolling and tossing.There might be fifty or so people still standing, stumbling and jumping about.The few people close to the door kept pounding on the door, scratching and scratching, with frenzied faces, opening their mouths desperately to yell.It's really ugly!But as he watched, one by one, they fell down like flies sprayed with pyrethrum.The commandant had seen many tortures, hangings, and shootings, and he himself had spent eight years in prison as an unjustly sentenced political prisoner during the Weimar Republic, and then eight years as a concentration camp commander.You learn to live with it, and your heart hardens.But when he saw this process, he also felt quite disgusted.It's a little different.Then again, what can you do?Are you following an order? There is no doubt that this thing works.With tight sealing performance, this thing does seem to work.The commander pulled the gas mask away for a moment.There's no smell here in the corridor, nothing at all.This is important; no harm to personnel.Maybe we can avoid wearing a gas mask by then. It's getting quieter in there now.This mass of corpses would be quite peaceful if there were not still some bodies heaving and turning here and there.There is no reason to linger.He handed the gas mask to the guard at the gate, got up and left.The air filtered by the gas mask just now smelled of rubber and chemical filth. Now that he was outside, he couldn't help but fill his lungs with the snowy Auschwitz cold air, which was particularly fragrant and refreshing. He questioned the lieutenant in charge of the ventilation of the death chamber.Until it's safe inside, no one who wants to be a hero is allowed in, even with a gas mask on.The lieutenant admitted that the ventilation was bad.Use a large, portable fan.An hour should do the job.The commander issued a categorical order: No one is allowed to enter for three hours after the ventilation work begins!The safety factor needs to be 200 percent, which is what it takes to implement a risky plan of action. His trusted adjutant took him to the mansion in the official car, where his wife and children were waiting for him to go back for Christmas dinner.The Commander is not in the mood for the holidays.When doing this activity just now, he always put on a cold and serious expression.He should lead by example!But he was human, though no one in the camp-controlled area particularly thought of it.He is also ordered to do things, there is no way.He took a hot shower, wiped himself vigorously, and changed into a clean military uniform, although the military uniform he was wearing was also clean and had no smell at all.He couldn't relax at the rear base.He always wore his uniform when he was not sleeping; it would have seemed out of place to have Christmas dinner in the same uniform he had just worn. But after taking a shower, changing his clothes, trying to calm down and thinking about it realistically, he had to be happy with the results.As early as July, he had been interviewed by Director Himmler alone for a long time in the confidential office, and the Director told him about the plan to deal with Jews on a large scale.This plan is very secret, he always hides it and dare not say it, dare not even think about it.This is an order issued directly by the Führer, so there is no room for dissent.Several other concentration camps would share some of the tasks, though Auschwitz would be a major disposal center. The Commander had been hoping that perhaps this was an exaggerated plan—Himmler had plenty of ideas that were empty—but he still had to look into the matter.After inspecting several concentration camps where such measures had been implemented on a small scale, he was convinced that none of the current methods could cope with the operation Himmler was planning to carry out.The method of asphyxiation with carbon monoxide at Treblinka was a time-consuming nuisance that took fuel and effort and was not 100 percent effective.Execution by shooting on the scale of the plan was also out of the question.The psychological effects of firing squads are also overwhelming, not to mention serious ammunition problems. No, but the use of poison gas in large rooms is always a good idea worth trying; but what gas is good to use?Today's experiment proves that the powerful insecticide "Zyklon B", which has always been used for fumigation of barracks in concentration camps, may be an unexpected and simple solution to the problem.Seeing is believing.In an airtight space, using a large dose of this blue-green crystalline drug, those three hundred guys died within a short time!A methodical humanitarian procedure, in which large numbers of people are driven in at the same time, must have been successfully achieved in the case of more carefully constructed and larger rooms.The problem is what to do with the corpse.The thorny question was piled upon him as usual.The higher-ups won't come up with any good opinions, let Hoth worry about it.But the current crematorium is barely large enough to incinerate prisoners who died of natural causes and were shot or hanged for breaking the law. Come on, it's time for Christmas dinner.The commander's family is reunited.Although the beautifully furnished mansion was filled with exquisite decorations and a Christmas tree in the foyer was glitteringly decorated, the occasion was not a pleasant one.His wife kept filling his glass with Moselle, with a worried look on her face.The children were all dressed up and their faces were beaming, but they also showed a look of fear.The commander wanted to create a warm family atmosphere, but he was burdened with heavy burdens and couldn't do what he wanted.He couldn't be as good a husband and father in Germany as he wanted.He asked in a panic.There was a kind of angry and resentful tone in his few words.He really can't help it.The roast goose was delicious, and the Polish maid could not fault it, but the commander had a really bad day.Whether it's Christmas or not Christmas, that's what it is. He really felt sorry for the children.He took a bottle of brandy and went off to smoke a cigar and drink to himself, while he pondered sending the children back to Germany to go to school.His wife disapproves.She kept muttering that, in fact, life on the rear base was deserted enough.Needless to say, she knew nothing of what was going on behind the barbed wire across the road.How did she know that the atmosphere of Auschwitz was not suitable for growing children.He would have to study the matter a little more.The current method of private teaching by well-bred young officers of the SS is simply not suitable for the development of German children, who need friends of the same age, fun games and sports activities, to lead a normal life. The Commandant drank the brandy from the bottle slowly, and although the numbing effect of the alcohol was to his liking, he was still thinking about his child and the series of pressing problems in the concentration camp, while his mind continued intermittently. What Huang saw through his peephole was a disappointing scene: piles of Russians writhing and writhing.He thought while drinking, and before he knew it, dusk had fallen on the long rows of wooden sheds in the isolation camp.The Russian prisoners of war had finished their day's work on the Birkenau construction site and were coming to the end of the work.Some prisoners of war couldn't help staggering under the weight of the still-hardened corpses in striped cloth on their backs.The dead bodies on the construction site must be brought back for the night roll call, because the number of the living and the dead must match the number of people who went to work in the morning, so that no one can escape Auschwitz, unless it is the dead.A band of captives was banging and banging a march, for there was always a breezy brass accompaniment when the workmen were done. Barrell.Jastrow hunched over a very light corpse.The corpse's head was dangling like a stone hanging from a rope.He didn't know this person, but when he was about to finish work in the lumberyard, this person suddenly fell down and died in front of him.He put the corpse in a row of dead corpses on the playground, and hurriedly stood in the queue.By the time the roll call was over, it was already dark.Ban Ruier returned to his shed and found that the room was not as crowded as before.Several people who were gassed to death came out of this room. "Yuri Gorachev!" shouted the captain in charge of the shed.This was the pseudonym Ben Riel used when he joined the Red Army in Moscow.When he heard this, his whole body became stiff, and he couldn't help taking off his striped cap, and put his arms straight on his sides.The captain in charge of the shed was a small Ukrainian boss. This guy looked very ugly, holding a piece of paper in his hand, and approached him in the dark. "Take your things!" Jastrow, carrying his tattered little bag, followed the man on foot into the snow and along a row of floodlit buildings.Ban Ruier was exhausted, hungry, and numb from the cold, and he was often worried and afraid, and could no longer care about the threat of death that was right in front of him.Let it be as God's will wills it. They went into a shed near the gate.The lights in this shed are extraordinarily bright.Packed captives look cleaner and eat better.They weren't Russian either, because Ben Riel couldn't see the big black letters on them like he had on his back: USSR. The Ukrainian handed the gray paper to a large man in a small leader's armband, with a scary red beard and small blue eyes fringed with fish scales; Ban Ruier gestured, muttered a few words in rote German, and left.Redbeard roughly dragged the captive by the elbow, along a row of double wooden bunks, and dragged him to the end of the shed.Jastrow saw Sammy there.Mutterpur was leaning against the bedstead, talking to another prisoner. This is as startling and overjoyed as a reprieve from a death sentence. For, in the lumberyard that afternoon, just before he put away the lightly dead body, he had recognized Mutterpur.Baen Riel also risked his life to speak to him in whispers.You must know that the punishment for private conversations between prisoners is either to be beaten to death on the spot with random sticks, to be whipped to death with a whip, or to be shot.But Mutterpur was obviously a prisoner with a special status-he was not a small boss, but a bit like a foreman-because he was giving orders to a team of big Poles who were stacking timber.Unmistakable, it was Mutterpur, the construction contractor at Auschwitz, a former schoolmate of the Rabbinical Institute; pious, very strong, and had a construction accident and broke his nose.So Ben Riel ventured past him and whispered his name and number four.Mutterpur, in his striped prison uniform, still stout and majestic, with his matted tangled hair and sideburns almost entirely reddish-brown, did not give the slightest sign of recognition or of hearing his voice. look like. The little red-bearded boss made a gesture and told Ban Ruier to sleep on the upper bunk of the stack of wooden beds where Mutterpur was leaning against;Mutterpur went on without looking at Jastrow.Chatting with another prisoner in Polish, he interjected: "Hello, Ben Riel." This is the first time Jastrow has been hinted that God might allow him to survive.