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Josef Nowak:
Rhine meadow camp of Rheinberg
Chapter 2: Beatings at
the beginning, beatings at the end
Lorry race
with human freight -- foreign workers robbing
German soldiers -- foreign workers blowing
German heads of the prisoners on the lorries
-- men over board is killed by other lorries
-- black "Amis" deliberately killing during
the transport already -- cattle trader
Nussbaum
from: Josef Nowak: Seeded on the field. War prisoner in
the home land.
(Mensch auf den Acker gesät. Kriegsgefangen in der
Heimat)
translated by Michael Palomino (2013)
[Racing black "Ami" lorry
drivers with human freight]
The convoy of lorries is racing on the old National Road Nº
1. On this road were many transports of soldiers already in
the last 1,000s and more years. But there was not such a
transport in such a hurry yet. The niggers driving had a
childish joy like fools pressing the guns. Perhaps they have
the idea to be on the back of racing rhinoceroses in the
steppe whereas until today no scientist has seen such a
chase. The tires make their noise in the curves. It's no
need to save the tires. A country which has so much rubber
cannot loose the war. Breaking seems to be forbidden. And
it's also clear why. There is no guard on board. During this
fast race the only safety that no prisoner will take it's
flight is the race itself. Springing down would be the safe
death - as if someone would take a hand grenade put into his
mouth.
A wonderful spring is coming in the country. This April is
taking away all beautiful things which are predicted for May
- as say the poets. The young seed is covering the dark
earth like a fine gleaming robe. We see to the slope of the
hill with the location of Eastern Forest (Osterwald) [p.26],
a village with many steep roads and with many donkeys yet.
This is the center of breeding donkeys in northern Germany.
Only here? We are going on with the race. At the left side
of a field there is a dead body of a horse rotting away. The
animal has finished it's service and is in calm. At the
forest edge there is the dead body of a tank. Also this dead
body has finished it's service heading its canon into the
air like a draw bar, so ridiculous. There cannot be more in
this landscape about the glory of this war. It was as fast
coming into this valley of Weser River thus it could not
destroy anything here. The men with their assault guns could
fire only seldom. The vehicles were so fast thus the bomb
throwers had no tie to put down young forests and to destroy
villages.
[Foreign workers robbing German farmers walking home -
slapping the Germans on their heads]
Half an hour later perhaps the road shows more life.
It seems that whole tribes are on the way as there would be
Cimbrian and Teutonic peoples looking for new locations. Now
these are French people, Belgium people, Dutch people,
forced laborers all, they are busy for coming home now. They
were stealing tractors from the barns, they were stealing
the last horses from the stables and now they are on harvest
wagons and on coaches. They are driving home to the west
without rest. They are forming treks like the processional
moths. They are singing, screaming, jumping as if they all
had elastic bands in their joints. They have enough food.
They robbed the German farmers their deposits. They [p.27]
robbed also animals, calves and sheep.
They did not forget either that they are members of the
victorious nations since some hours. Now they are taking
action having stolen agricultural instruments like batons,
flails and bean poles. With these long instruments they are
shouting in their joy against the hated Germans hitting
their heads. "Ail Itleer!" the French are screaming blowing
on the heads on the lorry as if it would be mature grain.
The Germans are not moving, because the cannot move on the
lorries. They would not do also when they could. They have
the dull feeling that all this is part of the end. Therefore
they keep upright like trees.
[Man over board and killed by the next lorry - marching
German soldiers]
From time to time a soldier is cut from the lorry and is
falling down on the road like a pole. This is bad luck. On
the road his is run by the following lorries, is crushed, is
crunched. He was not a guard in Auschwitz, he was not a
burner of bodies in Theresienstadt, he was not a torturer of
Buchenwald. He only lost the war and will get his fine. No
one is keeping the falling one. He only would also fall with
him. The question is if he would keep him when he would not
fall himself. All this miserable humanity is full of
catalepsy which is blocking their brains morally with a
morally paralyzing effect.
I am watching to the side a little bit down to the street. I
am really astonished. There [p.28] are German soldiers
marching in peace home. Without rifle, without gun, but with
full rucksacks they are pilgrimming to the west and to the
east. Nobody thinks to take them prisoner. There is no
order. The sergeant having the honor to lead our transport
also sees the German soldiers. He is shifting his chewing
gum from the left to the right side in his mouth and is
spitting sometimes a good portion of saliva on their caps.
He does not think about to stop his convoy. Only we on the
lorries are already taken prisoner. Our line of destiny is
just another one.
[Again blows on German heads - the Dutchman]
There is a giant Dutch man swinging a giant instrument. He
wants to hit my head in the north eastern corner of the
lorry. When this blow will come then I am under the earth.
Half a second later the next instrument is passing my head.
And nothing remains than bloody puree that one never show to
any bride or child. The tulip cultivator or cheese trader or
whatever he is, he has more muscles than brain. He does not
understand anything of weapon techniques. He has no idea
that he has to calculate the velocity of is and my lorry, he
has no idea that the side angle is always slower, and the
height angle is always faster changing the more approached
is the midpoint. IN short words, he dies not understand
anything from flak instructing. Thus he is only striving
softly my back of the head. It was not [p.29] my hour to
fall from the lorry.
How long is is that I had received blows like this? Twenty
two years. A short time after the change of government,
during spring 1933. Men stormers from SA units were marching
with their ridiculous popular radios on their heads
following a swastika flag through the town. As I was
suffering of political rheumatism in the right shoulder I
considered the window of a jewelry shop in a stiff way. And
then blows with fists and sticks followed. I had not greeted
them with my hat. It was my guilt. I should not have shown
my back to them in this demonstrative way. Additionally I
had had enough time to emigrate [to go away].
Education, that's what it is? There where are blows with
sticks, there also will grow the educators fast. But for
what I get Dutch beatings today? Perhaps only by the reason
to get a better image of all the events in the Third Reich
in my soul. There were beating in the beginning, and there
were beatings at the end. Only the nationality of the bully
men did change. But all other things remained the same. When
we had an idea that then in November 1938 when I was
persecuted and was interrogated by Himmler's secret state
police for hours looking for a little reason to bring me to
a concentration camp, when we had had the idea that seven
years later a Dutch bully man would try [p.30] to stamp me
posthumous to a national socialist, we had laughed until we
had fallen from the chairs probably. Be blessed your bully
boys and beaten people! Don't think, you beating Dutchman
that I had been especially angry against you. I did not
suffer. You were suffering above all because of your green
stupidity. For your primitive brain it was enough to blow on
a skull only because it was a German skull. When you had
this book once in your hands then think if you have achieved
in those times to eliminate another German soldier from the
lorry killing him. Perhaps you are, brother from Holland, a
Wallonian reformed Christ from Haarlem or Utrecht. And
perhaps your victim was a reformed Confessing pastor from
Germany who - with his weak forces - was keeping together
his loyal group which was always getting smaller and smaller
bewaring them to serve to the logo of the animal. And when
you had some nights without sleep then, I really wish this
for you.
[Again man over board - black "American" lorry drivers
racing regardless killing deliberately German prisoners of
war]
More and more is lasting this race. What I was frightening
since a long time already was happening then. The lorry
before us did not have a high railing. There were only some
woods. A sharp right curve during the wild race provoked
that the woods were not withstanding the pull any more
breaking apart. Bodies were in the air. Were there two,
three or four? One crashed with [p.31] his head at a wall.
The other ones are already under the wheels of the next
lorries. They lost the war. The war did loose them. It's
like in 1525 when Martin Cronthal was reporting in his
chronicle of Würzburg abut the big killing of farmers. One
life had less value than the life of a hen. Somebody will
take the bodies and bury them. Somebody will heal the
cripples when it's worth - in some way. Our drivers had no
consignment note in which the freight was registered. They
did not even know the numbers of people exactly being
transported. Thus there was no responsibility for any
freight. yes, when they had stolen a hen from the captain's
stable -
[A cow and a wagon - the memory of a Jewish cattle dealer
Nussbaum (walnut tree)]
Now we pass a little wagon, highly charged, and the animal
pulling the wagon is a cow with energy yet. But in some time
the wagoner will be forced to make big decision concerning
the cattle. Flesh or force for work, that will be the
question. Also this poor wagon is going westward. My man is
leading the cow at the head collar. He looks very Jewish.
God knows how he managed to survive the catastrophe of
Israel. I congratulate him. To what is he remembering me,
this Jewish man's head with such an old face? Some
kilometers later I remember it. He was remembering me to a
Jewish cattle dealer [p.32] Nussbaum who was living in my
street. He was a wealthy and decent man. He was making his
business with several cars. But one day - perhaps in summer
of the year 1933 - I saw him sitting on an old horse cart
with a cow pulling it having purchased the cow from a
farmer. some weeks later I saw him again. This time he was
with a cattle pulling it at a head collar. He was in clothes
like a bank attorney. Because he had no bad clothes. I was
greeting him friendly, stayed aside with him, was speaking
some words with him. He was pleading that I should leave him
for not bringing him into danger. "My God", I told him, "you
are living here yet? go for goodness sake to Paris as a
cleaner of boots, or to London as a peddler. All will be
better than this what awaits you here. Believe me, I was
reading the whole literature of this brown Twilight of the
Gods. There is some epidemic attacking the brains. There
will not be a thunder storm, there will be a series of
thunder storms. Devil is living in Germany and nobody knows
when it will be catched." I never saw my neighbor again. I
hope he was following my advice and now he is planting
mandarins in Palestine.
[One has to know: The Jewish Zionist organizations organized
with the Hitler regime the antisemitic laws for driving the
European Jews all to Palestine with Palestine offices
without end in Berlin and in other German and European
towns. This tactic to expel Jews to Palestine is proved in
many ways and is adored already in the booklet "The Jewish
State" of Mr. Herzl].
We left National Road 1. Suddenly we were stopping near
Detmold. Here [p.33] seems to be a detention camp of a big
shape. There will also be some food for us. There is a long
discussion at the gate. Then the niggers are coming back to
the lorries in a bad mood. We are going on the race leaving
our dinner always to the west for reaching a shelter for
this first night in imprisonment [p.34].
^