by Albert Holl
Finally there was dancing on the stage by Russian officers and German propagandists, and the prisoners of war were asked to dance among themselves. We have two days free for these highest Soviet celebrations. We had had to work on the three Sundays previously, though, as the additional holidays that we knew in Germany apparently did not apply here. Even the population had to work beforehand for their holidays. Big bonuses were distributed this day. The Stachanovists who had exceeded their norms in the framework of the Five Year Plan obtained bonuses and their pictures appeared in the newspaper. How these bonuses were distributed was explained to me by a Ukrainian with whom I worked together now and then. Before he spoke he looked around to see if there were any eavesdroppers nearby. Then he said: ‘I too received a bonus: it was 600 roubles.’ I wondered about the amount of the sum, but then he said dryly: ‘300,000 roubles were allocated to the factory. The director alone received 14,000 roubles. You can guess what then remained for the masses.’ To my question how the sum was calculated, he replied: ‘Two accountants and a master. As they wanted something for themselves, the director had of course had to allocate a certain premium.’ He liked to talk about the time he had been employed as a worker under the previous owner – a German.
In the factory we often have to work next to young girls who are duty bound here for one or two years though they are not local residents. One, for example, is from Sararov, while another lives over 200 kilometres from here. If they do not go to work, they are accused of sabotage and sentenced to up to five years’ forced labour. The pay of these people, who live in mass accommodation, is very poor. Several times these girls have borrowed 3 or 5 roubles against their future pay and have had nothing to eat for one or two days. Their standard food consists of bread, gherkins, sunflower seeds, butter and sausage. These poor creatures are paid twice in the month, the first an advance and the second the rest, but they immediately, like children, buy things beyond their means that they like the look of, and end up starving again. They literally live from hand to mouth.
What the situation was like for these compulsory labourers was described in an episode by the odd-job women working in Kupill’s construction department. The construction chief for Saparoschje, a civilian named Therekov, who gives a thoroughly European impression and always looks well groomed, appeared in the workplace and saw a girl sleeping. He woke her up and asked her why she was not working. The girl replied that she had not eaten for three days, not having received any money on the last payday because the plaster she had applied had fallen out because of the frost. She did not appear for work the next day. Therekov, unperturbed by her plight, simply commented that she would not get away with this, as not appearing for work was classed as sabotage and was punishable with five years’ hard labour. This Therekov bought his children every day a block of chocolate that cost 60 roubles alone!
I heard a good story from my comrade Frosch, who came to us from Camp 7100/1. An NKVD officer going on duty in the summer of 1947 encountered a murderous shrieking and calling for help from a low earthen bunker that was separated from the camp’s forbidden zone by barbed wire. It sounded like the voice of a man who had found himself in deadly danger. The NKVD man went to see what was happening and surprised two women in the course of slaughtering a twelve-year-old girl. At their interrogation it was established that these inhuman creatures had already slaughtered several children whom they lured with sweets and then sold their flesh at the bazaar as pork.
The Daily News Show brought out an article recently in which the living standards of the Russian workers were discussed. The report was certainly aimed at the German people. The writer wrote in it that a Russian family, consisting of husband and wife, earned on average 3,000 roubles a month. I inquired among the workers in the factory and established that the average pay for an untrained worker was 350 roubles, rising to 600–800 roubles for so-called specialists. In the most unusual cases a husband and wife together might earn up to 1,500 roubles. This was just about sufficient for them to live on, but no more!
In the Sawod Komunar a skilled worker gets the 5th pay grade. The 6th pay grade is the highest and the best paid. Here, 125 per cent of the norm earns a worker a 14.60 rouble supplement. And should he provide twenty-six days of impeccable work he gets 379.60 roubles net. If he wants to earn more he must increase his results. But the costs of living are high: 1kg of bread costs 3.20 roubles, 100g of margarine 3.50 roubles, 100g of butter 6 roubles, 100g of sausage 4–7 roubles. Textiles and shoes are very expensive. And such prices are demanded from the workers although the supplier receives 6 roubles for 1 zentner of grain (wheat) and 2,000 roubles for 1kg of butter. Where is the rest of the money?
IN CAMP 7100/6: THE ASSEMBLING OF THE ‘BLACK SHEEP’
Quite suddenly I get the news that I am to be moved to Camp 7100/6. There are about 180 men with me. My friends Götz and Korff, and also Hofmann and Hindenlang from Block VI, are among them. The transfer comes as a surprise for me. Back in the summer I had been on a list with forty other men to go to Stalino for mining work but nothing came of it. Thus, when several days ago a rumour began circulating that the NKVD had a list consisting of uncertain elements and fascists, on which my name was included, I thought little of it.
I only had a little time to say farewell to my friends and comrades in the camp. We know that we will see each other again when we return to the homeland. That this is not likely the Russians had told the Anti-fascist activists several days earlier. Our general indignation could only be expressed in powerless rage. Spies were everywhere to report any utterances against the ruling government. Kaiser, who had said four weeks previously: ‘You can hang me if all of us do not go home this year!’ is still going about. There have been some violent riots in the other camps but further details have not been given. It is obvious to me that from the 1st of January 1949 I will refuse to do any work. My comrades Götz and Korff independently express themselves in similar fashion.
Once in Camp 7100/6 I meet some old acquaintances I have not seen for over a year, including Otto Doerr, to whose bed Götz, Korff and I are drawn. Prisoners of war are also meeting up from the various Saporoschje camps and it became clear to all of us that the Russians had established a special camp here. The area in which we are accommodated has become like a vast waiting-room with more than three hundred men living in it. We lie on three-decker beds in the vast room not knowing what awaits us in the future. Former big names in the political spectrum, such as Schmidt-Achat, Lörken, Gewiese, Bunder and so on, have also met here.
Under Hindenlang as our foreman we are now working as assistants on the construction of a new building. On the first Sunday of Advent they tried to make us go to work. Most went, but App, Franke, Götz, Korff and I remained in the camp. Kastner, as the dispatcher, is too clever to report us to the Russians.
On the third Sunday of Advent the Russian camp commandant, Gudenkov, informs us that three Hungarian officers have been sentenced to five and ten years’ hard labour for refusing to obey orders. We should take this as a warning and not think that the Soviet Union would spare us.
A happy surprise is an accidental meeting with my countryman Heinz Stelter, whom I know from home. Before his arrival in Saporoschje he had been travelling for more than a year. Unfortunately he was only with us for a few days before being transferred to another camp.
The Christmas festival of 1948 saw among the prisoners of war in the Soviet Union only sad faces and an oppressive atmosphere, as in our camp. The crushing disappointment about the Russian failure to adhere to the Moscow Agreement and the continuing uncertainty over our future did not allow any proper Christmas atmosphere to arise. Among the other ranks, who were accommodated even more tightly than ourselves, their living quarters reminding one of rabbit hutches, not even the saved-up Christmas food could lift their spirits.
On our bed – the upper one – Götz, Korff, Doerr, Breske, Schroeter and I celebrate Christmas Eve. Without letting the dismal atmosphere influence us, our thoughts
wander back home. Our old trusted Christmas songs were sung. Like an angel’s greeting appears a photograph that I received from my little wife through the post. But even her beaming smile does not hold me back from the coming step of refusing to work.
After a conversation with Second-Lieutenant Dörge, I came to the unequivocal resolution that I will not give up my return home at any price. And if I find myself quite alone on the 1st of January, I will take this step in protest and put an end to all my uncertainty. I know that Dörge is not in full agreement with my flight plan, but I cannot get it out of my mind and I must protest: I am simply not able to remain silent.
My friend Gusti, a Hungarian lieutenant, will be going home after more than a year of delays, and I ask him to write to my wife and describe the true circumstances of our imprisonment. I will do everything possible to escape in the year ahead. If nothing has been heard of me by the end of 1949, she should not expect me to return home.
Our work brigade might as well be on strike, for we do practically no work at all in the last week of the old year. Korff, Götz, App, Franke and I appear formally for work until the 31st of December 1948, but we achieve nothing.
1948 has run its course. Hardly anyone dares to wish his comrades in distress a return home: it has already become too well-worn a phrase. A room in the camp has been established and magnificently called the ‘Restaurant’ in an effort to lighten the dulled atmosphere among the prisoners of war. There is even beer here and a jazz band does its bit. The prisoners of war sing with a touch of gallows humour: ‘Skoro Domoi, isn’t that funny? We’ve already heard that there will still be transport in 1950.’
Those who follow the figures in the Daily Review know that there must still be more than 400,000 German prisoners of war in the Soviet Union.
In Lörken at Sylvester, an old NKVD informer and former camp senior has fled with a former member of the SS. He had got into hot water with the NKVD when an attempt to flee with a Ukrainian woman failed. There is no trace of him as yet.
Chapter 4
Under Investigation for Refusing to Work
It is morning on the 2nd of January, the first day of work in the New Year. Sullenly the prisoners of war get up from their beds. Once they have washed and had their breakfast comes the order: ‘Parade outside for work!’ Without bothering about it, I stay in my bed. I have already told my new squad leader, Bräunlich, that I am not going to work.
The big room is now almost completely empty. Some men on the sicklist sweep out the room, while others, who have the night shift, stretch out on their beds. Götz, Korff, Doerr, Franke, Breske, Mütschele and Schroeter have stayed in the room with me, although they should also have gone to work. The duty German officer writes down the names of those that have not gone out to work.
At 9.30 the whole camp, apart from those now at work, must parade for counting in the camp yard. App was taken off for questioning during the night and is not back yet. We do not know what happened, but suspect that he carelessly said something and it has been reported to the Russians.
I carefully put on my overcoat. Once we are standing in the yard, the duty officer of the day appears. He reads out the names of the eight of us who have refused to work and leads us to the guardroom. There he asks us individually why we have not gone out to work. From each of us he gets the reply that we are not going out to work. The Russian makes a note of our answers and calls the camp commandant. We are led to the administrative offices outside the camp and locked up in an empty room. After some time appears a ninth work-dodger, Second-Lieutenant Hans Menden, from Vallendaer near Koblenz. Grinning, Menden tells us that he was overlooked at first and was then sent after us.
It takes a while before the camp commandant, Major Gudenkov, who had already reported this unusual occurrence to the main administration, lets us one by one into his office, where several officers and female interpreters of the main administration are gathered. I am the fifth to be summoned. It is already noon. Gudenkov, who is sitting at the head of the table, asks me with a grim face: ‘Why are you refusing to work?’
‘Because Russia has not adhered to the Moscow Agreement! Apart from that, as a German officer prisoner of war, I am not duty bound to work. As Russia has been a member of the International Red Cross since November 1946, the Hague Convention also applies to the Soviet Union.’
Gudenkov: ‘You categorically refuse to work?’
‘Yes.’
‘I order you to go to work!’
‘You cannot give that order, for you do not have the right to. The requirements of the Hague Convention state otherwise.’
‘Good, you can go.’
I was then taken to join the others who had been to the commandant before me. Once we were all together, we were taken back to the guardroom, where we were given our packs without being allowed to return to the camp. Following a thorough search, we were taken by truck to the headquarters section of the main camp, which was separated from the rest of the camp by barbed wire.
To our surprise we were not alone here. Two Austrians – von Neuroth and Dr Sippel – as well as Second-Lieutenant Heinrich Bauer from Cronnach were also present. The Austrians, who should have already gone home over a year ago, are still fighting for the recognition of their nationality (the Russians counted them as Germans), while Bauer is under investigation because when he was informed that we would not be going home before the 31st of December 1948, he took out his anger on the picture of Stalin on the wall. In fact, he simply put it in a corner without damaging it in any way, but an over-zealous Anti-fascist immediately reported him.
There was sufficient space in the long barrack room for twelve men. Wood and coal were brought in by the German camp senior. We now had to wait for what was to come. Meals were brought to us punctually and correctly. We passed the time with games, discussions, songs and poetry. As before, I continued learning Russian, with Neuroth listening to my vocabulary.
The first hearings started on the 5th of January. Assisted by the female interpreters, three examining officers worked through the written charges against us. I based my case once more exactly on the reason for my refusal to work and only signed it once the Russian text had been translated into German.
The newspaper of the 13th of January brought a Tass report according to which all German prisoners of war would be repatriated from the Soviet Union during the course of 1949. We had a long discussion with a Russian lieutenant from the main administration who was responsible for inquiring into our state of health. It was always the same thing: these people are insincere.
On the 18th of January Breske, who had started a hunger strike, was taken to the hospital, and App, who was also in the cells, accused of being a main conspirator and on these grounds denied rations, was sent back to the hospital.
The indictments were signed on the 21st of January. I demanded a Red Cross representative from a foreign country and, as interpreter, Second-Lieutenant Adam from Camp 7100/2 to ensure an unequivocal translation.
The 25th of January was a cloudy day. The German camp senior appeared very early and ordered us to pack our things and go to the guardroom. We said farewell to von Neuroth and Sippel, and took the same path that Second-Lieutenant Bauer had taken a week earlier. We had heard nothing more about him except from another soldier who had also been in front of the tribunal for an insignificant offence but had been sent back to the camp, who told us that Bauer had been sentenced to twenty-five years’ hard labour. The hearing had lasted barely ten minutes. Bauer had only replied affirmatively to the question: ‘Have you taken the picture of Generalissimo Stalin from the wall?’ The court had then stood and passed sentence.
BEFORE THE WAR TRIBUNAL
At the guardroom we were taken over by three sentries who took us into the town accompanied by the NKVD interpreter, a young second-lieutenant. According to the interpreter, we were going to the courthouse in which the cases against us would be heard today. We made only slow progress along the icy and uneven streets. When we reach
ed the big, dark building in which we would be sentenced, we had first to wait a few minutes until we were led up the steps of the four-storey building. Here we were locked in a room. After we had been waiting for about an hour, we were taken together into the courtroom. There were already two legal representatives (of both sexes) who had been allocated as our defence. I was not very happy about this, and my comrades also did not want to know anything about them. We told them that we would defend ourselves. They countered this by saying that was our choice, but they must remain there in any case as they had been ordered to.
There was no representative of the International Red Cross to be seen. Adam, whom we had requested as an interpreter, was also not there.
We were asked to sit down on the stools in the dock. Behind us sat the four guards. Shortly afterwards, the prosecutor appeared and immediately after him came the judge with two assistants. We were told that the court consisted of the following persons: Judge – Senior Lieutenant-Colonel of Justice Malichin; Assistants – Major Esseljin, Sergeant Schön; Prosecutor – Major of Justice Suchba. The names of the defence representatives were not made known to me. The interpreter from Camp 7100 did the translating.