by Albert Holl
THE FIRST HUNGER STRIKE
The 21st of April was a day like most days. We made our morning toilet with the half cup of tea that we had saved from the previous evening, as otherwise there was no water. We used this fluid liberally as it was brown in colour, although its true substance was unascertainable. Shortly after the morning count we discovered that Klement, the Russian camp coffin-maker, with some Anti-fascist men, had brought in ladders and special wooden structures. We soon discovered that these were being fastened to the windows of the rooms overlooking the road. They were exactly the same as those that hung in front of the prison windows in Jelabuga. The rooms were made constantly half-dark by these shutters.
We were completely enraged. We could not, and would not, accept this. If we did not react to this, the terror measures taken against us would only increase.
Our reaction took the form of thirty-two prisoners from the affected rooms refusing their food. In our room, which had six men in it, there were three hunger-strikers: Surgeon-Major Dr Weber, Lieutenant von Putkamer and the Hungarian Senior Doctor Dr Bajor. We were anxious to see how the Russians reacted! We knew that every hunger strike had to be reported after 24 hours to the Prisoner of War Department at the Ministry of the Interior in Moscow. An investigatory commission then appeared very quickly. These commissions were very unpopular with the Russians, because if they uncovered some reason for it, all means and promises were employed to force the strikers to give up.
During the first three days none of the Russians, apart from the duty officer, took any notice of the hunger strike. However, as our men continued to resolutely refuse food, it soon became more noticeable. The female doctor appeared and tried with requests and soothing words to persuade the strikers to eat. When this also proved unsuccessful, the Guards major appeared in person. At first he tried with harshly spoken commands, then with threats, but had no success and finally vanished.
Our mood had almost reached boiling point. Our comrades had been on hunger strike already for five days. Weak and pale they lay on their beds, no one leaving their place. Their pulses beat only weakly. I expressed the intention of also joining the hunger strike, and others want to follow suit, but we were advised to wait another day. The sight of the striking comrades impressed me. I would have liked to take these Russians by the throat if I could.
The sixth day begins and there is still no stronger reaction to be seen from the Russians. Our demand is: ‘Down with the blinds!’ Towards noon there is a sudden: ‘Watch out! The Guards proletarian is on the march!’ We now sit in our rooms fully tense and wait for what is to come. First of all he vanishes into the staff officers’ room. Next he enters Room 12, which is next to ours, and then our door opens and Kudriatschov comes in, accompanied by his whole administrative staff. Since the time he interrogated me, he has put on weight and looks repulsive. When I see him he always makes me think of a bulldog. Colonel Crome is following him, with the other Russians behind.
With a furious face, as if he could eat up every one of us, the Guards major goes through Room 10 and the adjacent Room 11. He looks grimly at the strikers, the weak and apathetic men lying there. Apart from ‘Attention!’, which was given as he entered, not a word is said. The semi-darkness resulting from the blinds gives the already stressed situation an additional frisson. A Serb who speaks fluent Russian and German is acting as interpreter. As he is about to leave the room my voice resounds: ‘I have a question for the Guards major.’ He stops in mid-stride and turns around, tensed to meet whatever was coming and says something. The interpreter translates: ‘Ask!’
I begin: ‘I know that if the Guards major had the possibility of having me shot, he would do so. Is that right?’ He confirmed. ‘But I also know that he cannot do this, that he has his orders from Moscow according to which he has to hold back. I am convinced that Moscow knows nothing about the blinds that hang from our windows here. We have done our duty as soldiers and demand treatment commiserate with our rank as officers! On these grounds these comrades have refused all nourishment. It is inhuman to treat us like criminals. A few months ago you said to me that I would be destroyed physically and mentally; apparently you are now making that true. From today I also refuse all food until the blinds have been removed!’ The interpreter translated sentence for sentence. The face of the Guards major became increasingly poisonous. He left the room without replying.
Some of my comrades thought that I should not have spoken to him like that and it would only make the situation worse, but others approved my efforts. Our block senior, Colonel Crome, followed the Guards major silently. He returned after half an hour and announced: ‘Gentlemen, please cease the hunger strike and resume taking food. This evening the blinds will be made shorter by half. I know this is a compromise, but we cannot force the issue as the Guards major does not want to see any nakedness from outside. The doctor will come in a few minutes and take the comrades who have been on strike to the hospital.’
I was not so happy with the result. If we had stood our ground firmly enough and demanded that the blinds had to go immediately, it would have happened. Nevertheless, Colonel Crome is our block senior, and consequently we must leave to him to do what is best for the community. This incident has shown that the hunger strike is the sharpest weapon we have, but it is one that we only dare use in the most extreme cases if it is not to be blunted. But the remaining half of the blinds must go at the next opportunity.
The days go by in their usual way. The strikers have meanwhile all reappeared back in the block. They had also been isolated from the others in the hospital and anxiously watched lest they make contact with the other camp inmates. Nevertheless some had been able to establish contact with friends in the general camp and to report what had happened.
A SPY IS EXPOSED
We enlivened Whitsun with the choir, as we sang when the whole camp was paraded for roll call. Invisible to the camp, but still audible, we sang the second verse particularly loudly: ‘The Reich that our fathers’ swords won will let you stand.’
Now and then emigrants visited us. Mostly it was the emigrant Maurer, a small, insignificant little man with an apparently high voice and a wrinkled face. He tried to lecture us but came to grief especially in Rooms 1 and 2. They let him talk in other rooms without reacting. Special Leader Heinrich, a fifty-year-old who had been born near the Baltic and spoke fluent Russian, made little Maurer so upset that he fled with tears in his eyes. Finally they gave up trying to give us political instruction.
The news that came to us regularly about the conduct of the fighting on all fronts gave rise to long, concerned discussions, especially among the older comrades. I took little part in these as I thought it was all enemy propaganda to soften us up. And if the news really should be true, we could do nothing about it from captivity. Despite all the bad news, I believed in the victory of our people! I had fulfilled my duty to the very last and was ready to set out my behaviour before any court. What comes next is not going to be influenced by me.
My daily routine is firmly linked to my study timetable, so there is no chance of being bored. The dialogues I have with Dr Manitz, in which we exchange recitations from Faust, extracts of which we have learned by heart, are always pleasant. If one engages oneself intensively with spirited matters, one forgets the constant feeling of hunger for a few hours.
Organised by a colonel from Moscow who has been inspecting the camp for a few days, we are obliged to watch a film on the Charkov show trials. It shows the condemnation and hanging of several SS and Wehrmacht members who had conducted inhuman crimes in Charkov.
It is a glorious, threateningly hot summer’s day. Only a few stalwarts do their daily circuits in the blazing midday sun. The front yard is once more, as so often, closed as a repressive measure against us. I am busy learning English vocabulary by heart when the gate is opened and two persons enter the inner yard. One of those entering is a Romanian officer, the other a lieutenant with the Knight’s Cross. Suddenly Captain Sacha’s eyes wide
n: ‘What is this then? I know him! He is not a lieutenant and certainly not with a Knight’s Cross! He is a corporal!’
‘Do you know this man then?’ I ask him.
‘Certainly, he is a corporal and called Nissen, already long working for the NKVD.’
Now it is clear to me that this man has been sent here as a spy. To make him look more trustworthy he has been given a Knight’s Cross. However, the Russians had not reckoned on this lad being recognised in our block.
A few minutes after ‘Lieutenant Nissen’ had reported to the block senior, he appeared completely stripped in the yard. He was to perform now as the dirty dog who had to keep the toilets clean.
This was the second attempt by the Russians to put a spy in Block VI. The first occasion was with the NKVD spy Lohoff, a flight lieutenant from Oberhausen, who did not succeed in getting a foot in with us. We made him understand quite clearly that if he loved life he should clear the field. A complaint was made about him to his bread suppliers and he was never seen in the block again.
A SUMMER IN ISOLATION
An event has occurred. Suddenly, yesterday morning, the Guards major appeared and informed us in a cheerful speech that there was now a Second Front in France again. The earth was soaked in blood, covered in iron and the skies constantly full of thousands of Allied aircraft.
The colonel from Moscow has also appeared among us. He is listening to the wishes of the prisoners of war. Colonel Crome told him in short sentences of our complaints about the window blinds and the demand for their immediate removal. The colonel agreed to this, so now the bedrooms on the roadside have normal daylight again.
The duty officer entered the yard. He had a note with him and read out the names Crome, Wolff, Spiegelberg, von Hanstein, von Güldenfeld, Mewes, Lübbe, Webere, Middeldorf and Holl. We were ordered to get dressed and follow him. We went through the guardroom and out of the camp into the administrative building, to the office of the major-general. We were led into Kudriatschov’s room, where he waited with the interpreter. We formed up in a line and waited for him to speak. The Guards major was nervous. Under my gaze, which was constantly directed at him, he became even more nervous. I knew from my interrogation here that he could not bear this. Suddenly he shouted out, demanding to know why was I staring at him. Did I look like that at my Führer? I replied that I was used to looking people in the eye. A jab in the ribs from Colonel Crome, who was standing on my right, warned me to keep quiet.
The door behind the Guards major opened a little. For a brief moment we saw and recognised the face of the colonel from Moscow. Kudriatschov now told us that he was letting the blinds be removed. He had ordered us to come to him to say that we were exclusively responsible for quiet and order in Block VI. If there were disturbances, we could expect severe punishment. We were the hostages he was holding. A wave of the hand and we were dismissed.
We went back to the block aware that we had got off lightly. In the yard the one-legged Second-Lieutenant Stöhr was making another attempt to walk with the artificial leg that Dr Feller had contrived for him out of the most primitive means. Even the blinded Wissebach was in Block VI for a short while because he was in the SS.
It is already high summer. When one looks back, the past time does not seem to have been so long. When the sky announces a storm, old and young alike stand up so as not to miss the little drops of precious moisture. As the roofs and their gutters are defective, the water accumulates and the lovely showers give us an opportunity for a full wash. This is also absolutely necessary, as in our midnight bathing hours – every two to three weeks – we are given only a halfbasin of lukewarm water. If one wants to wash out one’s hand towel for drying one’s self, its diverse shreds and patches leave little to ‘bathe’ with. The bathroom staff are strongly forbidden to converse with us. The person in charge of bathing is a strong Anti-fascist and will react strongly.
The summer has long since been pushed aside by autumn. One might almost say that it has become winter already. According to reports, the Allied invasion has not been driven back, but rather has been able to push further forward. With it has come retreat in the east, with the collapse of the central sector and the dropping-off of Romania after the collapse of the front there. The increasing worsening of the political and military situation also weighs on the mood of some of my comrades. They have learnt to think factually and level-headedly, and show themselves to be full of concern for the future. Nevertheless they know that it is fully absurd to draw the consequences that the Russians and their satellites would like to see. The question ‘Traitor or not?’ is a matter of character and has absolutely nothing to do with the political situation! This is pressed even more often at the interrogations. Many duels have meanwhile been fought. Comrades are constantly being put in the cells, but little can be got out of them, either by dirty tricks or by terror.
With regret we saw Senior Veterinary Surgeon Hülsmann, a German-born southwest African, leave the block after he had been interrogated once and join the League of German Officers. As a reward he was given a job in the kitchen. The Anti-fascists rejoiced, seeing this as a success, while we shrugged our shoulders regretfully.
Some comrades had meanwhile been taken away to unknown destinations, including Lieutenant-Colonels von Sass and Dr Westerburg. For von Sass the outlook seemed bleak as he had been the defender of Veliki-Luki. The Russians there had suffered heavy losses against a reinforced German regiment and were now endeavouring to bring a case against them. As the Guards major had earlier told von Sass, the punishment was already prepared. I believe all that the Russians say!
There is no lack of latrine rumours of all kinds. They were known to come from the Russians and were meant to keep the prisoners of war in constant mental turmoil. I was as aware of them as all the others. My daily prayers are and remain for Germany and victory. I believe in it firmly! Behind walls six metres high and barbed wire one can hardly get a true picture of the situation. That it is very serious we all know. But even if we remain denied a victory, do we have to become traitors? Who could then trust us in later life? How do the teachers, theologians and jurists who subscribe to Bolshevism explain this? Do they then have the right to teach and judge about loyalty and honour? I would always so deal with such things that I could be accountable to my people at any time!
A great general amusement broke out in the whole block as a result of the following story. It happened that all prisoners of Jewish origin were to be sent away from the camp to an unknown destination. These men had held various key positions in the camp. The Hungarian Jew Birn, who had been head cook for a long time, was carefully searched by the guard. As some gold was found on him, he had to hand over all his clothing and was given only a pair of old Russian trousers to wear. In the following thorough search a quantity of melted gold was found in the high heels of his boots. In the rest of his clothing were found gold rings, and several thousand roubles had been sewn in. As head cook Birn had been bartering with the camp inhabitants, taking rings and gold from individual prisoners of war who were all suffering from hunger. As appropriate punishment the cheat received several weeks or months on bread and warm gruel. The NKVD spies had done well.
The cold weather that had arrived overnight again gave us the problem of procuring wood. Full of irony, I thought back to the moment when Kudriatschov, now promoted to Guards lieutenant-colonel, wanted to arrange for us to collect wood. It was about three weeks ago that we had to parade in the front yard and Kudriatschov appeared with a colonel from the Kasan Ministry of the Interior. He set us the challenge of getting the wood to heat our block ourselves. None of us made any move to take up this offer. Thereupon he said to Colonel Wolff, who had become the block senior after the transfer of Colonel Crome to Moscow, ‘Give the order for this!’ Wolff replied: ‘I have no right to do so, as we are all prisoners of war!’ At this, Kudriatschov, who wanted to demonstrate his authority before his Kasan guest, himself went through the ranks, looking at our boots and shoes, or what was l
eft of them, and decided from this who would go to collect the wood. Most of us had already shown ourselves ready to start. When Kudriatschov and his entourage were almost ready, a loud, clear voice said unmistakably: ‘Colonel, I am not going to collect wood as I am not obliged to by the Geneva Convention!’ The already separated ones answered almost as one: ‘I am also not going to collect wood!’ Kudriatschov threatened the men, and ordered them to move, but nothing helped. After some hard discussion, in which Lieutenant-Colonel Burmann clearly emphasised that he did not think he should be forced into reinforcing the Russian front and weakening the German front, we were driven into the inner yard. An increased reign of terror had started but it would remain unsuccessful.
Until now, only a little wood had been delivered and yet our rooms were quite warm, much to the amazement of the duty officer. Our old system of self-help, developed the previous winter, worked excellently. Over time we established a routine for hiding the files and choppers with which we reduced the size of the looted wood. I would not previously have believed it possible that with a saw made from a simple iron barrel hoop one could cut through planks forty centimetres thick in the shortest possible time. Naturally this required a well implemented organisation: it started with the sentries set to warn of surprise visits, and ran via the timber removers to end with the men sawing. It was often said about the handover of tasks that it often came down to the minute, often seconds. It had failed twice already. The duty officer took the saw and the wood away, and Colonel Wolff, as the block senior, was put in the lock-up and relieved of his duties. During the next mornings, when the duty officer appeared for the tally, the yard was empty. Only individual prisoners of war made their morning circuits. When the commandant said something, it was not understood. Even the interpreter was unable to move us. There was an unholy confusion. No one obeyed the orders.