I was so grateful I wanted to cry. He was taking a chance that could well get him either placed in the iron maidens or possibly killed. He had known me for only a few days and here he was risking his life for me. The whole thing was almost overwhelming and humbling.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next morning I was still lying in bed when the speakers erupted with their usual shrill noise. 9433 and 1050 tried to get me up but my head just rolled around. They knew I was in serious condition from the beating I had taken. The barracks commander saw them trying to get me up and came storming over.
“What is going on? What do you men think you are doing and why is he still in bed?” he demanded.
“Sir, he was beaten yesterday. He is in serious condition,” 9433 replied.
“Serious condition,” he said and tried to yank me up by my shirt but I was dead weight and he only managed to move me a few inches.
“This man has to get up. It is the rules,” he shouted.
“I’ll take him to medical,” a voice behind them said.
The barracks commander spun around ready to admonish the person until he saw who it was. Prisoner 642 stood there looking down at the commander. At almost seven foot and two-hundred and ninety pounds he was massive. The commander stepped back, his eyes wide.
“Well I guess that would be okay,” he managed to get out.
642 was not only imposing in size but his reputation was just as daunting. Everyone in the camp had heard about what had happened when they came to arrest him. He had put eight ISS men in the hospital. It had finally taken twelve men and two stun-guns to bring him down. Everyone, including the guards, gave him a wide berth.
He reached down with his massive hands and pulled me up gently. The other two men helped get me into the isle and placed me on 642’s back. He stood and walked, carrying me over to the infirmary.
The nurse looked shocked when he ducked his head to get in the door.
“This man needs help,” his voice boomed.
“Yes. Right away,” she stammered and went to get the doctor.
It was several minutes before the doctor appeared. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the giant standing there with me on his back.
“I would like you to help this man,” he said.
“Fine. You can leave him with us and we will take care of him.”
“I mean now. Not later,” 642 told the doctor.
“I understand. I’ll see to it immediately.”
“I’ll wait,” he stated.
“Alright. Put him on the table and I will see to him immediately.”
642 placed me gently on the table and stood by the doorway. The doctor went to work on me.
“Your friend is in serious shape,” he told 642 after his examination, “He has several broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, the stitches in the back of his head are ripped open and that is just what I can find without X-rays and blood work up.”
“That will be done immediately,” 642 said.
It wasn’t a question. It was more of a statement of fact.
“Yes, yes. I will take care of him immediately. You can go back to work now.”
“Doctor, I will return after work is done. I would like a full report,” he said.
Again it was a statement.
“Yes. Now please, return to work and let us take care of him.
642 left without another word. The doctor wondered why this particular person was so important to the giant. He considered reporting him to the camp commander but decided it would probably be more prudent to just look after the prisoner with the number 12125 on his uniform.
****
When I woke up I felt like I had been run over by a car. There didn’t seem to be a place on my body that didn’t hurt. It took me a second to realize that I was in the medical facility. There was an IV in my left arm and I could only see out of one eye.
I felt my head and was relieved to find gauze was covering my eye as well as the whole top of my head. My shoulder, ribs, leg, and insides felt like they had been crushed. I tried to scoot up but almost fainted from the pain.
I had no idea how I had gotten there. The last thing I remembered was the pick flying out of my hands and the guards kicking and beating on me. After that, nothing.
“Ah, you are back among the living,” a voice said.
I opened my eye and saw a doctor standing there.
“Don’t try to talk just yet. We were starting to get concerned. Just nod when I ask you some questions. Understand?”
I nodded.
“Good. Do you know where you are?”
‘Yes’.
“Do you know how long you have been here?”
‘No.’
“Do you remember how you were transported to the medical facility?”
‘No.’
“Do you know how you got in this condition?”
‘Yes.”
“Do you know your number?”
‘Yes.”
“Excellent. It seems your memory is going to be fine. You had a serious concussion. What the Cantu Guidelines term a grade III concussion. Your left arm was dislocated but we took care of that. You have three broken ribs and several bruised ones. Your spine took a pretty good lick and your kidneys and liver are bruised as well. Obviously your eye was damaged but we won’t know the extent until the swelling goes down. I am hoping that it is superficial and won’t cause long term problems,” the doctor told him.
There was nothing that I could do at this time. My body ached everywhere and they didn’t want me to talk. Finally I just laid my head back on the pillow and closed my eyes.
“I am not supposed to give you anything for pain. It is against the rules to give relief to prisoners but your friend seems to think it would be best if I overlooked those rules. I am going to give you something to help you sleep,” he said and injected something into my IV.
Within seconds, I could feel my eyes getting heavy and then I was drifting and finally fell asleep not feeling a thing.
****
“Good morning. Welcome back once again,” the doctor said looking into my good eye.
“I guess I am still alive,” I said.
“Oh heavens yes. You are doing much better. How are you feeling?”
“Better. Groggy.”
“Good. I am still keeping the pain dosage fairly high for now. I’ll start to lower it tomorrow and see how you are doing. You’re still passing blood and that is not a good sign but your shoulder and spine seem to be making good progress. Of course it will just take time for your ribs to heal. Your very large friend comes by to check on you every evening after the work shift. He seems quite concerned.”
“Who are you talking about?” Mark asked.
“Heavens, you know. The giant. 642 is his number.”
“The guy from our barracks?”
“Do you know anyone else that size?” the doctor asked.
“Well no, but I don’t know him either. I mean, we have never even spoken.”
“That’s very strange. He has been very persuasive in ensuring that you were well taken care of. How odd.”
“Indeed,” I replied.
“You certainly own him a debt of gratitude.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Day 17 – Journal Entry
I was released from the hospital today. I am still stiff and sore but at least I can walk. My ribs are taped but breathing is easier. I still have a patch on my left eye but the doctor said he thinks the damage is minimal. Of course you have to take that with a grain of salt, he is just a general practitioner, not a specialist.
I still have a headache but he assures me that they will eventually go away. He did slip me a bottle of aspirin which is totally against the rules and regulations. It was early and I wasn’t really sure what I should do. I didn’t feel I could do much work. Swinging a pick or hauling a wheelbarrow was simply out of the question. Of course getting another beating doesn’t sound like such a good idea either.
; I finally decided to go to the work shed and see what they wanted me to do. I wasn’t given any tools but was taken to join the work force. I was taken to the work leader and I handed him the note from the doctor. He read it twice then stuck it in his pocket. He told me I would be responsible for the correct grading.
I’m a reporter. I know nothing about grading or how to determine them. He showed me how to use the transit to ‘shoot the grade’. At one point he started to get mad and I thought here we go again but he calmed down and explained it one more time. This time I pretty much got it and did a couple of test shoots that he said were good enough.
I had to admit, it was a lot easier than swinging a pick but I still had to pick up the transit and carry it to a different area to triangulate the grade. Even so, it was fairly easy work. The guy using the grading rod pretty much knew the drill anyway so that made the job easier.
When the break came I sat down and rested, rubbing my shoulder and knee. They both still hurt. I saw a couple of the guards that had beaten me, just watching me. Geez, I hoped they weren’t wanting to finish the job. My two bunk mates 9433 and 1050 came over and sat down by me. They each gave me half of their bread. I tried to turn it down but they insisted.
Once again I was amazed at how some individuals could be so cruel and heartless while others were willing to share their last bits of food with you. It’s such a dichotomy.
****
Day 18 – Journal Entry
Stiff and sore, I rolled out of bed and dressed. On my way to the bathroom I ran into 642. Not literally, or I would have been back in the hospital.
I understand I owe you my life, I told him. If you hadn’t taken me to the medical facility I would have probably died.
You owe me nothing, it was the right thing to do, he told me.
Still, you could have gotten into trouble. He laughed. I didn’t quite know what to think. I saw from his badge that he was a criminal prisoner, but still. He told me that he did not worry about the security forces in here. They are smart enough to leave him alone. He has killed many people and they do not want to upset him. They may have guns, but he is very hard to stop when he is angry. I have to say, I totally believed him. Aside from his physical size, he had a look about him that made people cower in fear.
What I couldn’t understand was why he had helped me. He had never said a word to me previously. When I went outside we lined up and went to the tool shed. I was told I would be on the transit again. I have to admit, that was pretty welcome news. Around two hours into the work day the work force commander came over and told me I was doing a pretty good job. He said he had checked my work and I was no more than an inch off in most cases. That was good enough, he told me.
That was another shock. I was expecting to get chewed out or taken off and sent to some other more physically taxing duty. When break time came, I took a fairly large chunk of bread from the previous night and went over to 642.
This is for you, I told him but he said I owed him nothing. He had told me that before and I sure didn’t want to make him mad so I told him it wasn’t about owing him anything. It was about respect. I waited while he looked at me for a few seconds then he took the bread. He nodded and I went back to where I had been sitting with 1050 and 9433.
When we got back from the work detail we were all marched to the assembly area. We were all wondering what this could mean. It was seldom good news. The size of the crowd seemed to be even larger. Obviously they were still bringing in prisoners.
The camp commander came out and walked up on the platform. We were all holding our breath. He started in by saying that someone had taken food from the mess hall. A full investigation was now in progress. The mess hall would not be serving this evening while the matter was looked into. In fact, he told us, there would be no more food passed out until the guilty party was either turned in or turned himself in. If he turned himself in, the punishment would be more lenient.
If someone turned them in, that person would get double rations for a full week. If they found out who it was, the person would be put to death immediately. He warned us all to think it over carefully and for the guilty party to come forward. He waited a few minutes but no one stepped up.
He then told us to have it our own way and went back to his quarters. We were sent back to our barracks. The thing that doesn’t make sense is how anyone could steal food if they lived in one of the barracks. We are never allowed near the mess hall except for a few minutes to eat. It had to be someone that worked in the food handling area.
Everyone was in a pretty foul mood by the time we had finished the cleaning routine for the night. Apparently this ban on food even applied to the barracks commander.
***
Day 19 – Journal Entry
Today was the first day I woke up without a headache since I was beaten by the security guards. In fact, I feel almost human again. My eye is still slightly swollen and is blood red inside but at least I can open it and sort of see out of it.
Today they told me what we were doing on the work detail. Apparently they want to build a shortcut to the airfield where they bring in the detainees. From what I gathered, the current road is eighteen miles from the airfield and is over the same rough terrain I traversed when I was ‘detained’.
The new road will cut that distance by almost half and it will be lined with crushed stone. I had been wondering about the post holes but it was finally explained that they were putting up a wind break to keep sand from drifting and covering the road and for snow in the winter time.
Snow is something I did not want to think about. I have never been a person who likes the cold. In fact, I am pretty cold natured and the heat here in New Mexico hasn’t really bothered me all that much. Some of the prisoners have really suffered in the heat.
I was pretty nervous for a while today. The guard who had gone off on me was hovering around for an hour or so just before the break. I still don’t understand what he has against me. I hadn’t set a foot wrong as far as I knew but he seemed to be looking for me to do something incorrectly so that he could pounce on me again.
I was glad when the break came and he wondered off. None of us had anything to eat and it was starting to wear. Apparently no one had come forward yet and evidentially the investigation wasn’t getting very far. We were given water but we all needed nourishment, especially those doing the harder jobs.
After the break I didn’t see the guard hanging around and I have to tell you I wasn’t unhappy about that at all. When we got back, we were once again called to the assembly area. We stood in rows waiting for the commander. We waited about an hour before he came out and mounted the steps.
Since no one had come forward, the reward for turning in the culprit was now set at double rations for ten days. Apparently this would be his final offer. He told us he didn’t care how many of us succumbed, no food would be issued until this matter was resolved. He waited and still no one stepped forward. We all knew this meant another night without food. Everyone was angry and we all knew that the work tomorrow would cause trouble for many of the workers. Once again everyone was in a dark mood when we finally went to bed.
CHAPTER NINE
“You are absolutely certain you have the right person?” the camp commander asked.
“Yes sir.”
“What makes you so sure?” he asked.
“We traced the food backwards. From what was made, what was thrown out, all the way to where it was first brought into the facility.”
“And there can be no mistake?”
“I honestly don’t think so,” his assistant, Kyle Jones, told him.
“How long has this been going on?”
“From what we can tell, almost a month.”
“Obviously we need a better system if someone can get away with it for that long.”
“I totally agree. We should have a minimum of two people checking in the food and those that check-in should never withdraw supplies. That should be done by the cooks and
only with the proper paperwork.”
“You know Kyle, no matter what system we come up with, someone will try to find a way around it. They only thing that they will understand is the repercussions for doing such a thing. We need to show them what happens when someone steals and does not come forward. Were there others involved?”
“I’m not sure. I didn’t think to ask.”
“Then let’s go find out,” the commander said.
****
A man sat on a chair, naked in the cold room. He was shaking violently. His feet were in a tub of ice water up to his ankles. His wrists were strapped to the chair.
“Do you know who I am?” the commander asked.
“Yes sir. You are the camp commander. Please, sir. I did not do what they said.”
“But you confessed according to my assistant. Has he been lying to me?” the commander said turning to look at his assistant.
“Sir. This is all a misunderstanding. Yes I said I stole the food but it is because I don’t know what else to do.”
“Have you tried just telling the truth? Did I not say it would be easier on the person if they came forward? I am giving you that chance. If you want to reconsider your position, I will consider you as having come forward,” the commander said.
“A few things may have gone missing but not stolen. Sometimes we make mistakes on ingredients or start to run short due to the new people that have come in. Everything we take does not get marked down because we are in a hurry. It is not being stolen,” he told the commander.
“Yes, I can see that, but what I don’t understand is how the figures that you have marked as receiving differ from what the delivery person has down. Is that just a simple math error?” he asked.
“Sir, we get two semi-truck loads a day. Items get broken or shuffled around over the rough roads. Sometimes a whole case may be broken. All we do is mark down what we received. The driver may have a different number on his manifest.”
“I see. So no one is really stealing food. There you see Assistant Commander, it is all just a big mistake.”
PROJECT BlueBolt - BOOK II - THE GULAG JOURNAL: BOOK II - The Gulag Journal Page 4