POTATO
KOMMANDO
The
potato Kommando engaged in unloading trains, stacking the potatoes in special
stores well-ventilated to prevent rot.
The job was very arduous physically: the potatoes, shipped to the camp
in the fall, carne in large amounts because they constituted the inmates' basic
ration. Arriving unpacked, they were
scooped into wooden crates with handles.
Each such crate, weighing 150 kilograms, was carried by two prisoners. Even burly professional porters enjoying
adequate nutrition would. have found the load burdensome. For half-starved concentration camp inmates,
the assignment was back-breaking - and fear of the club brandished over anyone
stumbling under the burden was enough to make one give up.
One of
the worst sights was the killing of prisoners whose hands, torn and bleeding,
were no longer capable of gripping the handles of the potato crates. From time to time, such a prisoner would be
summoned to the S.S. man or the Kapo.
At the command, he was required to bend over, whereupon the executioner
brought a particular wooden stool, reserved for this purpose, down on the nape
of his neck. Death was
instantaneous. Some prisoners preferred
to get themselves shot dead by racing to the sentry posts surrounding the
camp. According to postwar research
published in Poland, about twenty corpses were removed from the area each day.
Work
in the potato Kommando did, however, entail its own benefits. Our workplace was close to the rail platform
where transports of Jews from all over Europe were taken off the trains. This gave us an opportunity to
"organize" articles abandoned by the new arrivals as they were
hounded from the cars.
Having
been assigned to the potato Kommando by dint of special favor, I was given the
easiest work. "You'll be my personal
orderly," said the Kommando supervisor, Kapo Karl Hackei, who wore a green
patch (B.V. 'Berufsverbrecher' - hardened criminal) -
Being
equally eager to "organize", he needed help from me, as from the rest
of the Kommando; consequently, he treated us well, turning a blind eye to our
smuggling activities. From time to
time, he even commended us for our excellent work, whereupon we received a
bonus bread, as a rule. (On my postwar visit to the Auschwitz archives, I
discovered a journal entry registering my name and 'Haftlingsnummer', and
noting I had received a bonus - a loaf of bread. At the head of the page, the clerk, with typical German
thoroughness, recorded that day's bonuses to the potato Kommando, totaling 50
loaves of bread.)
With
the sanction of my Kapo, I would roam the camp, and, while naturally keeping a
wary eye open for S.S. men and other German supervisors, surreptitiously pocket
various articles. I stashed all my loot among the potatoes. One day, after a transport of Jews had been removed
from the train, a mattress was left abandoned on the platform, Walking over, I
yanked at one corner, which tore open, whereupon a small package concealed
inside tumbled out. I hastened to take the package to the potato store, where 1
opened it. I could not believe my eyes.
The package contained numerous diamonds of assorted sizes. With beating heart, I hastily concealed the
treasure amidst the potatoes.
It did
not take us long to "get organized" with the other Jewish prisoners
employed in clearing the freight cars of the fresh transports. As they experienced difficulty in smuggling
goods out of the station, they would toss us various objects which we concealed
for them. Later, we would go shares in
the booty.
Work
in the potato Kommando brought a further boon: the delivery of potatoes to the
kitchens, of the prisoners and the S.S. I would tour the camps with the potato
truck, "organizing" various items for myself in return for enlarged
deliveries of potatoes to kitchen employees interested in barter deals.
Yet
another benefit from work in the potato Kommando was contact with the numerous
civilians who organized shipments from the local farmers and coordinated
distribution, deciding what to store or release for immediate allocation. As a rule, contact was established by a
terse exchange, brief and practical: "Interested in dollars? Gold?
Diamonds? Jewelry? Bring something in exchange." Being the
Kapo's personal orderly, most of the day found me free to do as I pleased. During the year I was employed with the
Kommando. I "organized" myself well.
Apart from other advantages, I was in a position to glean fuller
information about events in the camp, and make useful connections.
One
day, I beheld a terrifying sketch: the plans of an installation the Germans
were constructing. It was the crematorium.
The building contractor was German but the workers were prisoners,
several of whom risked their lives to smuggle the sketches into the camp. Anyone with eyes in his head could see the
significance of the installation. By
streamlining their extermination machine, the Germans would soon he capable of
enlarging the numbers of those put to death in the camp. The conclusion was evident: anyone who had
the opportunity should make a break for it!
At
that time, not a month passed without escape bids. Some managed to get away; others were caught and executed. After the war, I learned - from the treatise
of former Auschwitz inmate Erich Kulka - that, in the course of the five-year
existence of the 17 camps constituting the complex, 667 prisoners made a
getaway. Of the escapees, 270 were
caught, the majority being executed after interrogation. However, like veteran soldiers, the more
seasoned prisoners had lost their fears.
Foreseeing that the Germans would not let us leave the camp alive, we
resolved to escape.
At the
time, we knew nothing of the rapidly worsening predicament of Nazi Germany, but
the deterioration was reflected in the stepped-up pace of extermination. During 1943, there were eight gas chambers
in simultaneous operation in Auschwitz; four crematoria burned thousands of
corpses a day. The "death
factory" operated at an even faster rate in 1944. With no prospects of survival in the camp,
escape offered the sole hope of salvation.
Most
of the escapees from Auschwitz were Poles, who enjoyed relatively ameliorated
conditions. Occupying 80% of the key
posts in the prisoners' internal administration, and important jobs in the
hospital and workshops, they were able to initiate underground resistance, to
establish links with the outside world and prepare hideouts for prisoners
intending to escape.
Only
from 1943 onwards did a few Jewish inmates
contrive to get posts in the camp hierarchy, whereby they too could plan
escapes. However, a mere 76 Jews
managed a getaway from Auschwitz-Birkenau.
They got no help from the Polish resistance movement and, in the absence
of outside aid, most were recaptured. A
scant dozen Jews are known to have made a successful escape.
The
inmates relatively free to move about within the camp were physicians, nurses,
tradesmen, men of the burial detail and clerks at the various camp
offices. They were issued with special
documents bearing the signature of the camp commandant, which they were
required to exhibit on entering any of the camp's various sections. The camp S.S. also employed civilian
experts, who bore documents with a Gestapo stamp, as well as armbands, yellow
(for Germans) or green (for others) with the inscription "civilian
employee". Though forbidden to
talk to the prisoners, they nevertheless offered the latter a connecting link
with the outside world. Such contacts
were vital for organizing a successful escape.
As a
rule, any escape attempt was difficult and perilous. But it was relatively easier to make a getaway from Birkenau,
where the numerical ratio of S.S. guards to prisoners was 1:64, as against 1:16
in the main Auschwitz camp.
The
escape route was as follows: the camp was divided into two sections - internal
and external. The former was the
residential section containing the huts (stables). It was encompassed by an
electrified fence which was floodlit at night.
At 50-meter intervals along the fence, tall sentinel towers served the
smaller inner guard cordon, being manned by sentries who opened fire on any
prisoner approaching the fence. The
inner watch was stood down during daytime, to be replaced by the wider external
cordon ('Grosse Postenkette') which ringed the larger section. Comprising dozens of square kilometers
including the S.S. quarters, this "protected area" was where the
prisoners' labor squads were employed when they were let out of the smaller
fenced area. S.S. men manned the tall
wooden sentinel towers, firing without warning at anyone who ventured to within
10 meters of the outer guard line.
Every
morning, when the labor squads had left for work, the watch was transferred
from the residential section to the work section. Every evening, on the prisoners' return to the camp, a count was
held. lf all were present, the Germans would stand down the larger guard cordon
to install the smaller cordon around the inner residential camp.
Should
the evening count find one or more prisoners missing, the alert sirens were
instantly sounded. The outer cordon
guards remained at their posts for an additional 72 hours, while searches were
pursued. Aided by trained tracker dogs,
special units conducted punctilious searches in the work areas.
When a
would-be escapee was caught, he was interrogated as to the circumstances of his
getaway, and the persons who had abetted him.
Public execution was the punishment meted out to most recaptured
prisoners; a mere few got away with a sentence of hard labor with the S.K.
('Strafkommando' - punitive squad), where they were maltreated by S.S. men and
Kapos.
To
complete his getaway, the escapee had to go to ground in the large work area,
holing up there for three days and nights.
Only upon hearing the command "Clear guard posts!" on the
fourth day, was he free to leave the area.
After
getting away from the external area, a renewed battle for survival lay in store
for the escapee particularly if he was a Jew.
An area extending 40 square kilometers around Auschwitz, between the
Vistula and Sola rivers, had been cleared of most of its Polish inhabitants,
who were supplanted by German settlers.
Whenever an Auschwitz prisoner absconded, the camp commandant
immediately alerted the regional authorities to launch a vigorous search,
combing public transport and the homes of the area's residual Polish population.
The
escape technique accordingly called for a hideout to be prepared ahead of time
in some civilian population center far from the camp; but it was vital first to
locate a hiding place in the outer area, for the mandatory three-day wait until
a getaway became feasible with the guards' departure on the fourth day. The location of the hiding place was
transmitted in strictest secrecy from one group to the next: anyone planning a
breakout would confide the secret to the next potential escapee. It goes without
saying that, should the escape attempt lead the Germans to discover the hiding
place, it became unusable.
We got
the location of our hiding place from my fellow-townsman, FEIVELE PRUZANSKY,
the young son of the Pruzhany ritual slaughterer. He knew of a lair which had been used by one of our predecessors,
who had been requested to cover for an earlier group of escapees. The hiding place was a pit beneath the as
yet unoccupied S.S. hospital; having been constructed on stilts, a gap was left
between the building and the ground.
The prisoners who built it had dug a pit underneath, covering it with a
sheet of iron plating. Anyone using the
pit would, before leaving it, cover it up again to leave it available for those
to come.
At the
time - May 1944 - escape bids were on the increase, for a variety of
reasons. First, we knew extermination
to be going ahead at a furious tempo, each day seeing the ranks of camp inmates
decimated; better to try an escape, than trust to luck as guarantee against
being picked out in the forthcoming selection.
Second: sensing very clearly that the tide of war was turning against
Germany, we hoped to find our way to a region where the yoke of oppression was
not particularly heavy, and we could hold out till better times. Third, escapes were mostly planned by
prisoners of long standing who, being thoroughly versed in everything that went
on in the camps and their vicinity, hoped their know-how would facilitate their
getaway.
Failed
escape bids disheartened some of those who likewise planned a breakout - but
not all. Every few days, there would be
an attempt, by an individual or group.
Most escapees were non-Jews, who had better prospects of blending with
the civilian population outside the camps.
We drew encouragement from the successful escapes of several Jews, even
though they had made their getaway several months earlier. One of the escapees was of my age, a Czech
Jew by the name of Rudolf Vrba. In
time, the story of his getaway would be related by Alan Bastic in his book
"Escape from Auschwitz" (Grove Press). The tale exemplifies to some extent what was involved in such an
escape.
Vrba
and his comrades absconded from Auschwitz with the aid of the camp's Jewish
underground. From late 1943 onwards,
the underground sought ways of alerting the world to what was happening in the
camp. Early in February 1944, when Vrba
volunteered to risk an escape bid to that end, his offer was rejected by the
leaders of the underground, who doubted whether the world at large would lend
credence to an account of the Auschwitz atrocities if related by a boy of
eighteen. Refusing to give up, Vrba
consulted a friend hailing from the same town (Trnava), Alfred Wetzler. With informers present everywhere, talk of
escape plans was risky. But Vrba
regarded Wetzler as both a friend and a man with a reputation for
discretion. Wetzler introduced Vrba to
a 26-year-old S.S. man named Pestek who, sickened by what he had witnessed at
the death camp, wished to salve his conscience by doing his best for the
prisoners. Vrba was fearful of
entrusting his life to a German soldier.
Another prisoner, by the name of Lederer, tried his luck and was
successful. He emigrated to Israel
after the war.
Vrba
and Wetzler. abetted by two Polish prisoners, worked out an escape plan of
their own. Elegant suits, taken from
Dutch prisoners, were acquired from the "Canada" Kommando, along with
Russian tobacco soaked in gasoline and dried out, for the purpose of throwing
the German tracker dogs off their scent.
The plan required Vrba and Wetzler to conceal themselves among lumber
piled up at a construction site within the camp, and the two Poles were to
cover them with planks. Vrba and
Wetzler planned to remain hidden three whole days until the search was called
off, and then slip away from the camp, heading towards Czechoslovakia. They completed their preparations on April
3, 1944, but due to various obstacles and dangers it was several days before
they crawled into their timber hideout, spending their first hour there
sprinkling tobacco all around. Then
commenced a nerve-racking wait - initially, for the alarm siren showing that
the Germans had discovered their escape, and then, for the searches to come to
an end.
lt was
only at 6 in the evening of April 10, 1944 that Vrba and Wetzler emerged from
their hideout. They replaced the planks
so as to safeguard the hiding place for the use of other prisoners, and
commenced a cautious trek towards the Czech border, some 80 miles from
Auschwitz. They were obliged to cover
the distance on foot, hiding repeatedly from the German soldiers they spotted
in the vicinity. On their way to the
Bezkyd mountains, the passed the township of Bielsko, which they prudently
skirted. Reaching a solitary farmhouse,
they decided to take the risk of requesting shelter for the night and a little
food. The peasant woman who opened the
door to them was not misled by the Polish they spoke - though it never occurred
to her that they were Jews. "l
don't know Russian," she said with peasant cunning, apparently taking them
for Russian prisoners who had absconded from a POW camp, "but the Polish
you speak is quite good." She consented to feed them and give them
shelter, waking them at three o'clock in the morning to send them on their way
with her blessing.
On
April 25, 1944, Vrba and Wetzler presented themselves before the Council of
Jews in Zilina, where they recounted the atrocious truth about Auschwitz to Dr.
Oskar Neuman, representatives of the Jews of Slovakia.
Vrba
and Wetzier succeeded in making their escape.
Many of the prisoners who tried their luck subsequently were less
successful, paying for the attempt with their lives. Nevertheless, convinced that our accumulated experience in the
camp, and the preparations we had made, would enable us to withstand the test,
we resolved to pit our strength in an attempt.
We
knew that recaptured escapees evaded execution if the Germans were persuaded -
or discovered in the course of their investigation - that the escape attempt
had not been organized. The offender
was "merely" punished with 25 whip strokes delivered in the presence
of the other prisoners, before being incarcerated "for all eternity"
in the punitive camp, with a red patch on chest and back. In planning our escape, the three of us - the
Pole, the Russian, and I - therefore agreed that, in the event of being
captured, we would say we had found a bottle of liquor abandoned by a transport
of Jews near our Kommando. Getting
drunk, we had fallen asleep in the work area; ever since, we had been seeking
the way back to the camp.
This
excuse was one component of our escape plan. Other elements included
"organizing": finding a place of concealment, and hoarding the items
essential for a successful escape and for survival outside the camp.
After
inspecting the hideout FEIVELE showed me, so as to be able to locate it for the
breakout, 1 told my two colleagues that I had a place of concealment. All we had to do now was to organize the
equipment required for our escape, and fix the date.
A
successful escape called for punctilious planning. It was vital first to find
or prepare a secure hideout, and acquire maps of the vicinity. Next, would-be escapees had to approach
prisoners of the "Canada" Kommando for their requirements: civilian
clothing, wigs, documents, food, compasses, binoculars, money, and so on. In order to pass through the control point,
there was a need of civilian clothes, and armbands of civilian employees, or
S.S. uniforms and suitable documents.
To this end, it was vital to elicit assistance from men of the
"Canada" Kommando. However,
acquiring escape gear from them entailed a risk: one could never be sure the
confidential information would not be leaked to the Germans. It goes without
saying that the greater the number privy to the secret, the greater the danger
of a leak. That explained the failure
of some well-planned escape attempts.
In no
need of help from others, we drew on our own resources to "get
organized". All three of us owned
valuables, as well as various vital items we had collected from the
"surplus" left by transports of Jews, whose belongings were unloaded
close by the location where we hauled potatoes. Having hoarded food conserves and bread, civilian clothing and
boots, we therefore had no need to confide in anyone but FEIVELE.
On the
appointed day, having exchanged our prisoners' uniforms for civilian clothing,
we gulped some liquor to boost our courage - and to reinforce our story about
getting drunk in the event of being captured.
In the course of our escape preparations, I ran into ABRAHAM
BRESKI. As I passed by, I muttered:
"lf you hear the alarm tonight, that will tell you I've escaped."
With the exception of FEIVELE and my two colleagues, he was the only person to
whom I divulged my secret. I knew I could do so without fear, for he was a
fellow-townsman, a personal friend of my parents and our neighbor from
Pruzhany.
During
the afternoon, we slipped out of the camp.
We entered the pit, and FEIVELE covered us with the iron plate, strewing
it with soil, and sprinkling tobacco to prevent the S.S. tracker dogs from
scenting us out.
We
heard the camp sirens giving the alarm: the search was on for missing
prisoners. We heard the tracker dogs
barking overhead. We held our breath,
not so much as daring to blink an eyelid, so as not to be heard. Our situation was, however, unbearable. The pit was narrow, and its air vents had
apparently been blocked; remaining there was out of the question.
"I'm
stifling," muttered the Pole, putting his feelings into words and thereby
infecting the Russian and me. It took us only a short while to realize that we
would not be able to remain in our hideout until the alert was called off.
At
about one that night, when silence had fallen about us, we held a whispered
consultation marked by indecision; foreseeing that we would not be able to hold
out a single day in the pit, we resolved to leave it that very night and
continue our journey.