The Theory and Practice of Hell (33 page)

For years—in some camps, right down to the end—there was Sunday work, especially the dragging of timber and the carrying of stones, until noon or afternoon, with relatively short breaks. Regular labor details did not usually work on Sundays and the Detail Leaders were off. The Block Leaders assigned to supervise Sunday work took their revenge for the loss of their own leisure by inflicting particular atrocities on the prisoners.

Nevertheless, there was a niggling residue of leisure time, used for many forms of recreation. If the weather was fair and if it was permitted—which was not the case in all the camps and at all times—one might take a “ walk.” The memory of camp life floods back over me, as I write down that word, making it seem inordinately absurd.t Yes, one walked, alone or with a friend, between the barracks, in the mud, always wary of SS noncoms who might suddenly appear on the scene, jostled by hurrying fellow prisoners, coarsely shunted aside by some mess carrier with a “ Look out, stupid!”

Or of a Sunday afternoon one might lie down in the sun—
if
there was any sunshine, which was rare in the inhospitable situated concentration camps;
if
there was still an unoccupied spot to be found;
if
there was really no chore that had to be done
. . . i f . . . i f . . .

Until 1941 there was still something like a stand of timber inside the Buchenwald compound, a grove where one could lie on the slope
{ i f . .
.), look out over the Thuringian countryside through the barbed wire between the watchtowers. Far, far in the distance were the hazy outlines of the Harz Mountains, with the Kyffhauser peak showing on clear days. A farmer might stalk across the field, behind a plow and a team of horses. Further on lay a village with a church spire, blue smoke curling up among the roofs.

Out there—yes, out there lived the German people. Ho hum.

And then things would happen.

In 1939 an SS man answering to the fine name of Kraut-wurst happened into the grove. He became incensed that so many prisoners were lying about there in their leisure time. He reported seventy of them—most of them were “ guilty” of not having “ beat it” in time. For several Sunday afternoons in succession they had to carry manure for the gardening detail.

Curiously enough, there actually were athletic activities in camp. There were young men who professed to have surplus energy—and some of them, assigned to the right kind of detail, did have it. They managed to obtain permission from the SS to play soccer! The SS seems to have looked on this as a fine advertisement for camp conditions and prisoner morale. Most of the teams appeared on the field in spic-and-span

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uniforms, even with spiked shoes. Where did this equipment come from? These are secrets of camp corruption.

Until every available spot of ground in the compound was pre-empted for barracks, handball and volleyball were played as well as soccer. The prisoners even introduced boxing! It sounds like lunacy, but it is true. There were strapping bully boys in the camps who were quite willing to exhibit their punching prowess. And the feeble wrecks, the emaciated star velings, half dead on their unsteady legs, gleefully came to watch the fun. There are inscrutable depths to human nature.

In the summer of 1945 Himmler issued a “ Reich Directive’* to the effect that brothels, chastely designated as “ Special Buildings,” were to be established in the concentration camps. Eighteen to twenty-four girls were shipped from the women’s concentration camp at Ravensbriick to each camp where a brothel was established. Each group was supervised by two women noncoms of the SS, who frequently behaved like camp followers themselves. The girls were all volun teers—they were promised that they would be discharged in six months. Their case histories usually listed past diseases that did not indicate a particularly stable mode of life before admission to the concentration camp. Apart from a very few exceptions, they were resigned to their fate with rather little restraint.

For men without “ pull,” the duration of a visit to the brothel was twenty minutes. Every patron had to undergo prior medical examination in the prisoner hospital, and sub sequently had to take prophylactic treatment.

The purpose pursued by the SS was the corruption of political prisoners, who were given precedence. They were to be watched and distracted from political activity. The camp grapevine had passed along instructions that the brothel was not to be patronized, not merely for the reasons stated, but also for social considerations. It was regarded as shameful that wives and mothers sent money they could ill afford, only to have the prisoners pay out two marks admission to the brothel. But at the very outset camp headquarters had com pelled the Senior Camp Inmate at Buchenwald to visit the building. The least that could have happened to him if he had refused would have been his removal from office, which might have created much trouble in camp. He yielded, after

holding out for two days, and never went back a second time. By and large, all political prisoners hewed to this line, so that the objective of the SS was foiled.

The brothel brought enough corruption into the camp as it was, notably a strong inducement to parcel thievery. It was not so much “ love” that was responsible for the gifts to the women in the brothel. It was the desire to gain admission out side of regular hours and to stay longer than the prescribed period of twenty minutes. Men with good sources of supply, strapping Prisoner Foremen with lingerie, brassieres, shoes and the like, were able to spend hours in this form of “ recreation” when they wished. Among the thousands of pitiful wraiths forever hovering on the borderline between life and death, there were still plenty of these braggarts, provocatively regaling their fellows with tales of their prowess the previous night. There were others too who drained their last physical reserves at the brothel. Nor was the place scorned by the SS officers, who could often be found there at advanced hours of the night.

It was into this environment that Princess Mafalda, daughter of the King and Queen of Italy, was brought, when the isolation barracks for prominent prisoners at Buchenwald burned to the ground as a result of the air raid of August 24, 1944. The Princess herself was seriously wounded in the arm. Dr. Schiedlausky, Camp Medical Officer, insisted on per forming the amputation himself, but his patient died of loss of blood. Her naked body, together with those of the men who had died that day, was dumped into the crematory, where the prisoner in charge, Father Joseph Thyl, dug it out of the heap, covered it up, and arranged for speedy cremation. He cut off a lock of the Princess’s hair, which was smuggled out of camp and kept in Jena, until it could be sent to her Hessian relatives.

As already mentioned, there was a camp band. In Buchen

wald it had been formed by Rodl’s command late in 1938. At first it was the Gypsies with their guitars and harmonicas who produced a somewhat feeble brand of music. Later a trom bone was added, and still later a drum and a trumpet. The prisoners had to pay for the instruments themselves. Members of the band worked by day in the lumberyard or the carpenter shop, rehearsing only after hours.

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It was ghastly to watch and hear the Gypsies strike up their merry marches while exhausted prisoners carried their dead and dying comrades into camp; or to listen to the music ac companying the whippings of the prisoners. But then, I

remember New Year’s Eve of 1939, a night ringing with frost. Hungry and chilled to the marrow, I was walking between the first and second row of barracks below the roll-call area. It was just before taps and the camp streets were deserted. The utter stillness was caught up in a strange sense of en chantment. Ice flowered on the barracks windows, rime dusted the roofs, and the snow crunched underfoot. The night wias clear, and even sorrow and terror seemed to have stif fened into frost.

Suddenly the sound of a Gypsy violin drifted out from one

of the barracks, far off, as though from happier times and climes—tunes from the Hungarian steppe, melodies from Vienna and Budapest, songs from home.. . .

In 1940 Officer-in-Charge Florstedt ordered a regulation brass band to be formed. The SS Main Office was to finance the instruments. But when the instruments arrived, the SS of ficer found a simpler solution, “ The Jews shall pay for the music!” This was done. In addition, twelve of the new in struments were immediately requisitioned for the SS band.

Members of the prisoner band were henceforth relieved of heavy labor and were able to have regular rehearsals. Their practice room, however, was a favorite hangout for bored Block Leaders who were in the habit of ordering the band to play one popular tune after another. The band was so over worked that even in this relatively light detail six prisoners had to drop out on account of weak lungs and tuberculosis. One died of tuberculosis of the larynx.

When the camp was inspected by visitors from the outside, the band regularly had to serve up sprightly tunes to enhance the show that was put on. In 1941 the band was decked out in gorgeous uniforms of the Royal Yugoslav Guard, part of SS war booty. In these resplendent trappings and with their or dinary camp insignia, the band henceforth looked like nothing so much as a group of circus ringmasters. On Sun days the band would occasionally play for the prisoners in the barracks, singly or in groups, or there might be a concert in the roll-call area.