D
<<     >>

Josef Nowak: Rhine meadow camp of Rheinberg

Chapter 19: Poor beasts, the human being

Thoughts of women hardly existed in the camp -- criminal "Americans" leave out any chance presenting themselves well -- German camp police and German cooks -- rebellion against a German cook in the Ruhr area in 1918 -- hunger extortion by the "Amis" hindering a rebellion in Rheinberg -- the pastor at the fence and the parcels of the baroness -- English camp administration without Sunday's hunger torture -- stomach problems and white humans with circulation troubles -- granite in the intestine -- medical tent without medical instruments

from: Josef Nowak: Seeded on the field. War prisoner in the home land.
(German: Mensch auf den Acker gesät. Kriegsgefangen in der Heimat, 1956)

translated by Michael Palomino (2013)

Teilen / share:

Facebook

Twitter

[Thoughts to women did hardly exist in the camp of Rheinberg]

And don't lead us into a temptation [of sexuality] - in this kind Lord himself had taught us praying. He knew the deep grounds and the never ending grounds of human nature.

In Rheinberg we were lead into temptation just every day. The sixth order then had shrunk to an absolute insignificance. The endless variations about a dirty topic which were known very well to any soldier had become silent. Within these 16 weeks of my captivity I never heard any dirty joke, no hoax or joke joking about the soldier's topic number 1. Al this was eradicated from the brains as if it had never been here. Of course we were often thinking of women. But these were always beings who could cook well, who were bringing a decent and warm meal to a cleaned table, who were holding the house in order, who were washing clothes, who were lovable, human and benevolent. All other ideas had been eradicated by hunger. Only the mother's and sister's characters had remained with the ideas of women here.

[Criminal "Americans" leaving out all chances presenting themselves well]

But daily there was another temptation: hating, cursing, stealing, betraying, murdering, despair with God and the world, never believing a human and [p.172] despising the vermin on the ground mentally executing it. The "Americans" and later also the English had had enough opportunities to do something for the moral. In the camp there were urgent services to do. Also out of the camp there had been important services to manage. And there were plenty of voluntary assists for it. They never had wanted anything than more and better meals. But the daily salary was only a thin slice of dry bread. This was too less for heating the oven [making move the body]. After some few hours we were too weak for having a hoe or a shovel in the hand. Therefore work was not loved. Work in the camp was only one more possibility for a faster death.

[German camp police and German cooks for criminal "Americans" - only an odor for the German prisoners of war]

The "Americans" - and then the English - were giving way to install a German camp police. They were also permitting German cooks and also a food administration. Policemen and cooks were living in special wire caves within the camps. But when we had no flesh on our bones any more they were getting fat. They needed new trousers soon because their thighs and bottoms were too firm. This was no problem for them. They were also administrating the little wardrobe which was coming in to the camp by the time. They were serving us water soups and were making scrambled eggs using milk and egg powder. When we were waiting at the kitchen fence we at least got the odor into our noses. Then we were stumbling back to our holes [p.173] and we were eating the coffee grounds from which a human cook had given us a complete tin.

[German camp police and German cooks are becoming fat - and are members of the leading "upper class" of the camp]

No, these thick scoundrels were not thinking of the comrades. Wolves and hyenas are not doing this either. They were fattening themselves like slaughter pigs and they were taking the little bit of food and strength which had been authorized by the occupation forces yet. "Americans" and English were not seeing any problem with it. They could always prove that Germans were robbing Germans against their will [of the allies]. Policemen and cooks were considering themselves to the dominating upper class. Therefore they could afford to behave like vultures. But against us they were governing in the most rigid way. When they catched a little thief then he got a dreadful penalty. When the lunch soup was distributed then was often a second serving which was only a little part of the main meal. But also this had to be parted by 20 normally. Woe the person trying to get only one swallow more from the little second serving. One time a hungry colonel had committed this crime. Perhaps he wanted to have a complete meal a short time before dying by hunger. But the policemen were giving him a shield around the neck with the text:

"I have robbed my comrades!"

They were jailing him in a dog run during three days where he could not be upright. And he did not get any food during three days [p.174]. In this way the pigged out camp bosses were handling him, the guys robbing us our daily emergency food. Compared with them pirates and highway robbers could be considered as members of the elite. But they enjoyed the full confidence of the allied troops. Being so mean to us they had allied with them. It was in the camp like everywhere. The little thieves are badly treated and the big criminals could enjoy a good reputation with the mighties. After all we had been free men - - -

We were no free men. The camp cooks and the camp police were for us what had been the secret state's police and the food offices before.

[Remembering of 1918 in a home for lonely men in the Ruhr area - rebellion against a German cook]

After First World War I had passed a longer time with miners in the Ruhr area. I had lived in a home for lonely men. In those times this was not a noble house but it was the meeting place of broken existences. During winter all kind of men was coming there, strollers and vagabonds, gypsies and other people on a trip, students, artisans of all kind who had no work during the winter, Poles, Croats, Slovenians, Swabs, Bavarians, people from Eastern Prussia, Silesians, Hungarians, convicted people, stabbers, nationalists, and communists. This was a mass without shape and without hope which was sharply distinguished from the firm tribe of the miners. Miners were strong, clean and dutiful and has a high moral and discipline withing the working groups [p.175] as it could not be found in other professions. The friendly manner of living with these men was always one of my most beautiful memories. This forming force was so strong that even the wildest hordes in this home for lonely men were adapting  some parts of their laws and virtues. To no one of this horde, also not to the most neglected one, had come the idea to leave the tunnel as long as humans were blocked or in danger yet. 

One evening I came back to the men's home, tired to death, after a heavy shift. The men were at the table, but there was no good mood, but a dumb silence, in a curbed position because the chairs had no backrests - like in the German military. I served myself with my food which was at the kitchen's window and was contemplating it. Then I was eating  a bit with a spoon and was spitting it out. This was not food, this was nothing more than bookbinder paste, cooked of gray war noodles. No swine had touched this food, not either in an emergency situation. I was turning the tin cup putting it the other way round on the table. Now the paste cake was upside down on the table, well shaped and like glass. This was the signal for a rebellion.

Poor intellectuals working out a revolution at their desk because they have no instinct and no capacity for being at the right location at the right time doing the right thing. Where is tension there have to be flashes. And then also thunders will come. People began to move. Other men [p.176] were also putting their meal upside down on the table and were gluing the disgusting mash on the ceiling, on the walls, on the windows, on the floor, on the chairs, and on the table. Then the group was heading to the exit, they were running over the back yard always yelling, they were intruding the flat of the cook, were tearing him from the bed to the backyard passing mud and puddles, up the stairs, down the stairs, then through the house to the kitchen. There he was put on his feet. There noodle mash was put in his hair and face. There he was defeated, then he was put upright again and was defeated one more time, he got many kicks, he was retched. In this way men have to handle those who are stealing them the food. This the guy had committed. He had concealed the food which the mine had delivered to the kitchen and he had purchased cheap dirt for us. The next morning he was kicked out from the house, he was sent packing. Aristocracy of criminals cannot live long when they are getting the answer with the fist.

[Hunger extortion by criminal "Americans" hinders any rebellion against criminal German cooks]

Here in Rheinberg we were often without help, without rights, without action. If we had trampled one of the fat administrators, then not only the leader or the group had been punished but the whole camp had not received any food for one week. There had been enough traitors for this. Mr. Judas had always found many friends for giving a piece of bread.

Camp police was limiting it's action to guard the kitchen and cooks and their privilege of having much food [p.177]. They did not know any professional risk. Their authority had it's base with the machine guns of the alien soldiers. The policeman had the same rank like a capo in a concentration camp. People and institutions are always similar everywhere.

[The pastor at the fence - the message for the baroness of L. - three parcels - English administration distributing and stealing parcels]

One afternoon I came to the fence where the road was passing and I saw a pastor walking there. Should this be the pastor of Rheinberg? Should he know the friendly baroness of L.? I was calling him. It was the pastor. He knew her. I was putting down some words fast on a piece of paper, was wrapping the paper around a stone and threw it over the fence flying out. The pastor got the secret message putting it into his pocket and was waving at me in an enthusiastic way. I knew that the baroness would not leave me alone. Our friendship was well proved. Together we had saved blameless persons from concentration camps. We had taken out humans from penal workhouses of the dictator [Hitler]. More than only one time we had risked our skin. Being honest I have to confess that this woman was outclassing thousands of other men with her personal courage always being ready for running a risk.

The next morning the baroness came with a big parcel. A chunky farmer was offering to perform the throw. He was strong yet, this farmer from the Rhineland. The object passed the two fences [p.178]. But there was no cause for being thankful. I did not even get a rag of paper. Like international soccer player other inmates from the camp were heading for the object, staff sergeants, main constables, corporals and lance corporals. Dozens of human claws were hacking the parcel, were tearing it already in a high position over the ground, were distributing the content to all sides. When I wanted to catch a bite - just not without a certain right - they were trampling me down, the men called comrades.

I was standing in a melancholic way at the fence again and was shouting my deception to the baroness. My God, it was easier to smuggle donations into Hitler's penal workhouses. It had even been easier to bring a pastor from Berlin or Leipzig over the Dutch frontier passing the agents of Gestapo.

The following day the baroness came once again, this time at 7 o'clock in the morning already. But also this time was too late, but I got one half of a crushed slice of bread. A little bit faint-hearted I was pleading that she would come at 4 o'clock in the morning already. And then there was coming a young lady in fact. Baroness Mary Rose (Marierose), before sunrise she came to the fence. God bless the tennis sport for which I never had been interested in. But the arm of the girl was powerful. Now at last I could have what was thought to be for me. And [p.179] I was sharing the parcel with the other three men in my hole. Later the English were permitting parcels with real addresses being distributed to the inmates. When they were distributed - - -

[English camp administration without Sunday's hunger torture - daily rations - massive intestine problems and the brink of death - theft from comrades]

Some time before this first noble food donation I had fallen seriously ill. English administration had taken over our camp after the first halftime. They were also distributing food on Sundays and were not hallowing Sundays in this rigid way as the "American" administration did. They gave us food on Sundays, not enough, but better end more. Around the 60th day they were even introducing the joy of black bread thus we were almost running wild. But it was not a real black bread made of rye, but it was a well ground wheat flour bread with much polish [may be Pumpernickel]. But it was nourishing the inmates better than the white and pale wheat bread of the "Americans". The English were giving parcels daily with cookies, chocolate, plump pudding, cheese, , butter, just good and fat soup cubes and tea, tea in cubes which contained also cream and sugar in it. After all - after the distribution all these joys could be stored in one cup of coffee. When wood was scarce or the appetite was too big then we were eating the raw tea cubes.

Now the intestine was performing it's general strike [p.180], with me it was going on during 16 days like this. Already before the circulation trouble had been worsened. Hands and feet were cold and white as if they were frozen. Feet and legs were aching as if they had been smashed with sticks. And now also the intestine was paralyzed again. I did not stand up again. I was lying on the ground for dying. In those times I was living with completely strange brothers. Our common possessions were a thin rain coat, a woolen blanket and a rain fly. We had digged out a flat basin into the earth. The rain fly served as a mattress. With the coat and with the blanket we were protecting ourselves provisionally from rain and cold. At the head end of the basin were our belongings, two or three tins of different size with some spoons of sugar, some cookies, a piece of bread in it. We had not sunk so deep that we were saving our provisions in the ground like animals do sometimes.

I was lying there in a real apathetic way and was hardly aware what was going on around me. The first day the comrades had brought my ration yet. The second day I did not get anything any more. It was also indifferent to me. The third day I could watch with half closed eyes that the comrades were behaving like foxes sneaking to my tins. they were catching my bread, my sugar, my two cooked potatoes fast from the tins devouring all before my eyes. One of them had not a good feeling with it as I could see [p.181]. He had rather liked to wait until I was dead. But then he had not got anything for sure. The other one had a more firm conscience. After having robbed all my provisions he was fast in tearing my rain coat from my body away.

[Reaching the medical tent - granite in the intestine - no medical instruments]

In this way life was going on here. Earth was already rotating around me. When would come the guys taking the sockets, the trousers and the shirt? It could not last a long time any more. I was already eliminated from the book of life. But now my resistance was waking up. I would not make it so simple for them. It could not be the decision of these muggers if I had a right for life or not. I was taking all my force, moaning came on my knees, then on my feet, and with a caos in my head I took the resolution to try to walk to the medical tent, and at the end I also reached there. It was lasting just a while until I could speak, until I was getting aware that there was a good face leaning over me. The illness had been half guessed by the medical doctor. There were just some standard illnesses in the camp. Then the cure began which I hardly can remember. I was given oil to swallow and then two enemas were following. But all was in vain. Can one move granite with oil? Can cement in a wall be softened with enemas?

-- Oh, this is worse than in a quarry! [p.182]

In this way I heard speaking the doctor. And then he was beginning working. His medical instruments were not many, only poor. Sweat was running from his front when he was rolling me on my back.

-- Next time you could try it with ferro concrete!

He could loose his humor now, this man, working without any pharmacy, having saved life of thousands without antiseptic protection, without disinfected cooked instruments. We did not even know his name.

-- remain some hours in this position, please. I think you will survive this without any damage one more time.

I did not want back anything of my sugar, of my potatoes or of my bread. Silently I took my coat and was leaving for finding a better place with God's help [p.183].

<<     >>

Teilen / share:

Facebook

Twitter