Free Scheisshaus Luck by Pierre Berg; Brian Brock Page B

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    SCHEISSHAUS LUCK
    too long. Every day check the seams of your clothes for lice. They carry typhus. Crack the lice between your thumbnails.’’
    Someone raised his hand. ‘‘May I ask a question?’’
    Herbert wrinkled his forehead. ‘‘About what?’’
    ‘‘Are there any bedbugs?’’
    Herbert managed a grin. ‘‘Oh, yes. And these little fellows are fast. Use a bar of soap to catch them on your mattress. Smash it down on them and they’ll be stuck to it. You’d better be quick with that soap, because the one you do not kill you’ll blow out your nose in the morning.’’
    A few men laughed.
    ‘‘It’s not funny; they bite. All right, keep clean and good luck.’’
    Herbert hopped off the stool and went into his private quarters, pulling the curtain closed behind him. His Stubendienste (barracks foremen) lined us up and doled out our mess kits, a spoon, and a new white-enamel bowl. We then received our first meal: a piece of brown bread, a small square of margarine, and a ladle of a warm, dark water they called coffee. Was that all? We hadn’t eaten for over forty-eight hours. Were the Nazis experiencing a food shortage? At least that would explain the condition of those skeletons on the truck.
    Everyone filtered through the four rows of bunks to stake out a place to eat and sleep. I went back to that bottom bunk and gobbled up my meal without tasting it. The man sitting next to me picked at his bread. He was distressed that the Stubendienst who had given him his mess kit snickered when he asked how he could find out where his family was. Silently I climbed up to the top bunk and stretched out on the burlap-covered mattress. I pulled the blanket over me. The mattress’s straw stuffing crackled as I tried to make myself comfortable. In spite of myself, I pondered where Stella was and what she was doing, and what would happen if I never saw her again. Thankfully, sleep spared me from torturing myself for long.
    ♦ ♦ ♦
    I awoke in the middle of the night with gut-wrenching cramps. I should have listened to the man from the HKB. That shower water PART II | AUSCHWITZ
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    was hellishly potent. The Ha¨ftling on watch had fallen asleep, so I easily ducked outside unnoticed. There was an outhouse close by, but there was only one way of relieving myself and retrieving my ring. The cramps tore at my belly, and I barely had enough time to take down my pants. Lucky for me, the searchlight didn’t sweep where I squatted. Once I was finished I found a twig and after a little digging I had my ring.
    The next morning, Herbert had us line up outside. At his side was his interpreter, Max. A severe beating hadn’t deterred him. I respected his persistence, but questioned whether it would ultimately pay off. Herbert stared at us with his piercing blue eyes as if to read our minds.
    ‘‘ Wer hat hinter den Block geschissen ?’’(Somebody crapped behind the Block . Who was it?)
    While Max translated, Herbert’s fury drained the color from his face. We all stood in silence. I hadn’t breathed a word to anyone about the cramps or my ring, which was now hidden in the shoulder of my jacket.
    ‘‘Am I to believe that this shit fell from heaven?’’ Herbert’s voice trembled. ‘‘Stand at attention!’’
    We did as he ordered.
    ‘‘You’ll stand here until whoever did it gives himself up!’’ Herbert stormed back into the Block .
    I couldn’t believe he was making an issue of this. If I had known, I would have buried my mess. Damn it! Shortly afterwards, our soup was delivered and Herbert had them leave the steaming cauldrons in front of the Block ’s door. I was in a panic. I was hungry and freezing, and I knew the men standing around me were, too. What should I do? I wanted to come forward because of the suffering I was causing, but I was frightened of what was in store for me if I confessed. As time crept by, guilt devoured me. No, I couldn’t stand silent any longer. I took a deep breath and