I am in G building and it holds 600 hundred men. The complex itself in enclosed with double rows of razor wire then a ten or twelve foot fence and two more rows of razor wire on the outside. A ten foot ‘no man’s land’ electric fence is the first thing you encounter. Then there is the razor wire, followed by the fence and two more rows of wire.
It is rumored that sonic listening devices are placed around the entire complex in the ‘no man’s land’ along with anti-personnel mines. It is a bleak and desolate place for sure. Guard towers are remotely controlled via cameras that watch every square inch of the outside. Cameras seem to be everywhere.
I have managed to survive the first five days but it has not been easy. I have been knocked around by several people already and understanding the nuances of the rules is difficult. It seems that you need to be here for a while before you can read between the lines of the written rules. Inmates, oh, I mean detainees, have a different way of interpreting the rules.
Our beds are three high and are nothing more than wooden bunk beds. We have two sheets, a pillow and a woolen blanket. I am told that they are changed once a month. Our uniforms are dungaree pants, blue dungaree shirts and work shoes. All of our shirts have patches indicating our alleged crimes. Mine happens to be a yellow circle indicating that I am a political detainee.
I have learned that we get just the one meal a day and it is certainly advised that we save a portion for the next day’s work break. Work. Now there is a unique concept. It isn’t a labor camp as such. We just move little piles of dirt from one place to another without really accomplishing anything. It is busy work and nothing more.
I have learned that there is a woman’s camp here as well. I haven’t seen it yet but I have picked up whispers about it. That is another strange thing. No one talks. Even the basic everyday conversations you would expect to have, do not take place. If someone does say something, it is in a low whisper. My guess is that the place must have lots of listening devices and so people just don’t want to risk saying something that would get them into trouble.
So far hunger is the biggest obstacle I have had to overcome. I am not starving to death but just the one meal a day leaves a great deal to be desired. I’m sure it will be harder when winter comes.
They have taken all of our watches away so we never really know what time it is. The various alarms, whistles, and bells are our only means of keeping time.
It has been a strange transition going from being a free person to one who has every move structured. I know one thing for sure; I do not want to have to go before the discipline tribunal ever again. It seems both parties in any altercation are guilty and will have some sort of punishment. I was in confinement for just 48 hours and that was long enough. I can’t really imagine having to spend five or more days in those horrible conditions. Who knows what tomorrow brings?
****
I had just finished up in my journal when detainee 1050, just under me, leaned out and tapped me on the arm.
“Yeah?” I whispered.
“If you get caught with whatever you are writing they will punish you. We are not allowed to have anything to write on or even a pencil. They can be very harsh about that kind of thing.”
“He is right,” 9433 affirmed, looking down from the bed above me.
“Then I need to find a place to hide it.”
“You need to be very careful. They have stoolies in here. There is also an extra ration of food for a week if anyone see the rules violated and terns the person in.”
“You mean the prisoners would actually help them?”
“Food is life. The winter is the worse time,” 9433 replied.
“Any suggestions?”
“I don’t want to know where it is. I could be considered an accomplish if I knew and didn’t turn you in.”
“Are you going to?”
“No but I don’t want to know anything you put in your book. Not one word. Understand?”
“Yeah, I understand,” I replied.
Now all I had to do was find a place to keep it and to make sure no one saw me hiding it. It was not going to be easy.
****
DAY 6 – Journal Entry
A strange thing happened today. The detention camp commander was relieved of duty. No one seems to know why. We saw two armored cars and an SUV pull into the compound. A short time later the commander was loaded into the back of the car and off they went. Rumor has it a new commander will be here later this afternoon. No one seems to know what this means.
I have never been a person big on rumors so I will just wait and see what this is all about rather than speculating. His leaving didn’t vary our routine. We were marched to the same work place and performed the same routine mindless work. Moving dirt from one place to another and then back again. I’m starting to feel as brain dead as those people who sit around and watch soaps all day.
A new development occurred after we got back from work. Instead of being sent to our buildings we were all told to assemble in the dinner staging area. We marched over and it was the first time I had actually seen all of the detainees in one place. I was also able to put to rest the rumor of women being held here as well. I saw row after row of them standing in the staging area. What I didn’t see were any children. It made me wonder where they were but there was no way I could ask anyone at this point.
We all stood there for a good hour before a man with double golden diamond patches climbed up on a raised platform. He told us he was Camp Commander Riker. He seems fit and has a certain rugged look about him. He said that his predecessor seemed to think we were all here for a vacation. He was here now to assure us that that was not the case. Beginning tomorrow we would start performing work that has measurable results. Those not keeping up with their assignment will be punished. We are here because we either cannot or do not want to fit into society. All guards are to be addressed as ‘sir’ from now on. Anyone failing to do so will be disciplined without the need for a tribunal. Justice will be dealt out swiftly. We do not want him to learn our names. If he does, it is because we are considered a trouble maker and he is not tolerant of trouble makers. One other change he was implementing is that married men will be allowed to meet with their spouse on Sunday…if they have no disciplinary reports against them.
I could see a lot of smiles on faces, the first I had seen since I had been brought here. I would have to say the new commandant was pretty smart. First he tells us we are going to have to do real work but lessens it with the carrot of letting men visit with their wives. Of course that wasn’t going to do me any good. I have no one to visit.
****
DAY 7 – Journal Entry
I have to admit, after hearing the new commandant I was expecting to be rousted out of bed even earlier. Instead there was no blast over the speakers. In fact several people were still in their bunks sleeping. I have to admit I was totally puzzled.
I finally got up and took my clothes to the bathroom. I was shocked for the second time. People were taking showers in what appeared to be hot water. I almost pinched myself to see if I was dreaming. Some type of barracks helper was handing out single edge razors and a bar of soap. I didn’t know what I wanted to do most, shave or shower. I decided to take a quick shower and then shave.
It seems like a small thing but when you can’t shower for a week, it is like heaven. I was also glad to get rid of my half grown beard that was itching terribly. I decided it must be Sunday. That was good to know. I could kind of start keeping track of weeks and months without having to guess. It meant I was detained one week ago since this was my seventh day here. At this point all I could do was guess that even in here we were allowed to have every seventh day to rest. When I got outside I saw men sitting around or talking very quietly in small groups. I walked over to where 9433 stood talking to another person.
I just stood there but didn’t say anything at first. We are given every seventh day off, 9433 told me. He also told me that we would get an extra portion
of bread and maybe even some soup with vegetables in it. He made it sound a feast. I guess he was right considering what we have been getting for sustenance.
He was indeed right. It was the most food that had been served since I had been here. I had missed last Sunday’s meal so this was all new to me. I saved one whole chunk of bread and filled my pocket with the corn we had been given. All in all it wasn’t a bad day.
CHAPTER SIX
Day 8 – Journal Entry
It is fairly late and I am sitting in the bathroom stall writing. As pleasant as Sunday had been, Monday was just the opposite. Once we were rousted out we were given the usual tools but this time picks, wheelbarrows, and post-hole diggers had been added. We were all confused but we soon learned that our days of just moving dirt were over.
We were marched just feet from the gate and told to start digging up the hard packed area and putting the dirt in the wheelbarrows. I was given a pick so my job was to break up the dirt for the guy shoveling and loading it in the wheelbarrow. It was hauled to a dumping area. Post-hole diggers were trying to dig holes in the hard dirt. It was back breaking work for every one of us. There were no easy jobs. By the time for our break all we could do was sit and let the sweat drip off of us. Most of us had stripped down to just our dungaree pants.
I finally got up enough energy to get out my corn and bread from the previous night and ate it. It was a real struggle to get up just to get a drink of water. It seemed like only minutes before the whistle blew for us to get back to work. I didn’t see how I could do this for five or six more hours. My hands were blistered and my back felt like it would break with every swing.
Anytime someone stopped they were immediately beaten by the guards. They certainly delighted in hurting people. My bunk mate below me (1050) took a couple of good licks when he stopped to get the sweat out of his eyes. Two guards immediately started punching on him and when he fell to his knees they kicked him in the back. When he was down on the ground one of them stepped on his hand. I have to ask myself, why someone would do that to another person. What kind of character does someone like that have? It is totally beyond me.
Thankfully we didn’t have to march far to get back to the compound. We more or less just stumbled the few hundred yards and immediately went to our barracks and sprawled out on the ground. No one said a word. We were too tired to even speak.
When meal time came, a few elected to just stay in their beds. While I was tempted, I also knew if I was going to make it through tomorrow I would need food for strength. We managed to get to the mess hall and found that it had the fewest amount of people I had seen since I had been here.
The food was the usual bland stuff but they did give us extra bread and two vegetables. I ate the broccoli and saved the hominy for tomorrow. As tired as we were, it seemed to take forever for the nightly cleaning detail to be over with. My hands were so sore I could hardly use the broom.
When lights out came, everyone just fell into bed, many with their clothes still on. I figured I had gotten pretty dirty so I removed my shirt and pants before crawling in. I was asleep almost immediately.
****
Day 9 – Journal Entry
It was another strange start to the day. Instead of being taken to the tool shed we were all taken to the assembly yard. This place is huge. I don’t know how many it can hold but I’m sure twenty thousand or more can be packed into the place.
Four men were standing against the wall on the far side of the court. The new commandant came out and mounted the platform. The commandant started by saying that yesterday was the first official work day since he started. He said that he allowed Sunday’s routine to remain unchanged as a token of goodwill. It seems some took that to mean that they no longer had to obey the rules or orders when given to them. The four men whose numbers he read off (4121, 5006, 6333 and 8210) had all decided that they were not going to do the assigned work. They had refused the order of the work leader to resume work after the break.
He went on to tell us that when prompted to get back to work by the guards, they still refused. That was unacceptable and would be met with the harshest possible punishment. I watched as a row of guards marched in and stood facing the men standing against the wall. We all understood what was going to happen but it just seemed surreal. The commander gave the signal to aim and then the volley shattered the air. The four men were riddled with automatic machinegun fire and the wall was pockmarked and streaked with blood. They slumped to the ground.
He turned and addressed us again telling us that more of this would follow if people chose to disobey orders of the work leaders, security force, or barracks commanders. He also warned that repeated trouble from any one barracks would result in the discipline of the entire barracks. That was certainly something new. From what I gather each person had been accountable for just their own actions. This now meant we were also responsible for the actions of others. He didn’t actually say how many incidents would be considered before the barracks was to be disciplined as a unit but I would imagine it wouldn’t take many.
They made us stay there until the bodies were removed and then we were sent back to the shed to collect our tools and get to work. Once again I was given a pick. It hurt my hands just carrying it. I didn’t see how I was going to get through the day. I briefly thought about tearing one of my sleeves off and trying to make a bandage for my hands but decided it might call undue attention to myself that could result in getting another beating. The last thing I needed was another black mark by my name.
It was all I could do to keep from crying out as I swung the pick. Each time it hit the dirt it sent waves of pain through my hands. By the time we were allowed to go on break, my hands were bleeding. Even before I ate I want to the water bucket and poured a ladle of water over my hands and patted them dry with my shirt. I just had enough time to eat before we were put back to work.
I don’t know how long we had been working when one of the men suddenly just collapsed. He fell face down in the road. The guards were immediately kicking him and poking him with their rifle barrels to try to make him get up but he just laid there in the dirt. After several minutes the work leader came over and had four men pick him up and drop him by the side of the road. Everyone else was immediately ordered back to work. He just lay there the rest of the afternoon, not moving. When we were forming up, one of the guards went over and felt for a pulse. He stood up, shook his head no. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled out his pistol and shot the man in the head. The work leader ordered four of the others to carry the body back to the compound.
It was a strange day from start to finish. Five people died today and I didn’t know a single one of their names. I knew four of the numbers from this morning but what good does that do? When I first arrived here, even after being told I would be detained, I was confident that I would make it out somehow. Now I am not so sure.
****
Day 10 – Journal Entry
It was cold when I stepped outside this morning. I kind of jogged in place a few minutes to get my blood circulating. Somehow that irritated a guard because before I knew it he was standing in front of me looking like he was going to hit me.
‘Sir?’ I asked and he said if I had that much energy he would find something else for me to do. I tried to explain that I was just warming up and the next thing I knew he had kicked my knee so hard that I crumpled to the ground. I simply do not understand this kind of brutality. I was doing nothing that was offensive except living. Maybe that is offensive to these barbarians.
9433 had seen it happen and came over and helped me stand. He told me to do absolute nothing that would alert a guard or draw attention to myself. They were constantly looking for the opportunity to hurt someone.
During the morning work session the guards seemed especially agitated. They punched and kicked on anyone that even hesitated for a few seconds. I was doing everything I could to keep swinging my pick.
My hands were bleeding again, making it hard
to hold on to. It almost slipped out of my hands two or three times. Finally it did slip. When I drew it back it went flying out of my hands. Fortunately it didn’t hit anyone.
Before I could even turn around to pick it up three of the guards descended on me and started shoving and punching me. I felt the first few blows, especially the ones to my ears and face. I decided I would just go down and curl up into a ball and do the best I could to protect myself.
They continued to pummel me and kick me until I finally blacked-out. When I came too, I was being carried back to the compound. I must have been unconscious for a very long time. I didn’t even make it to the break before they attacked me.
I was able to walk back to our barracks with some help from 9433 and 1050. I knew I looked pretty bad from the expression on 9433’s face. He told me to stay sitting against the building. I saw him walk to the door, look around quickly and slip inside. It was a huge risk for him to go inside without permission. A few minutes later he slipped back out and brought me a cup of water. He had one of the cleaning rags wet and he used it to wipe the blood off my face. My one eye was swollen shut and my jaw hurt like hell. I figured one of the guards had landed a boot upside my head.
9433 told me to just get in bed and stay there. He would bring me some food just as soon as they got back and it was time to clean. It was another big risk. I didn’t know where he was going to get the food but I couldn’t even bring myself to care at this point, I hurt so badly.
When we got inside I went to the bathroom and found I was peeing blood. I didn’t know if that was serious or something that would correct itself. I decided to wait and see if it continued. I climbed in bed and immediately fell asleep.
It was dark when I felt 9433 sit on the side of my bed and lift my head enough so I could eat. I have no idea where the piece of beef came from but it tasted wonderful. He also had a roll that he gave me to eat. He handed me a second one with a small piece of beef tucked in the middle for tomorrow.
PROJECT BlueBolt - BOOK II - THE GULAG JOURNAL: BOOK II - The Gulag Journal Page 3