546
PARTISAN REVIEW
them in his grip. Serums are to be sent from Berlin .and other cities,
but the dispatched quantities are not arriving. The death rate among
the troops is increasing and no help comes from the outside. Now
perhaps it will dawn on the higher-ups that something has gone
wrong in the east. Commissions
will
visit the camp, discussions will
follow discussions, even Polish and Russian doctors will be called
on for consultation in order to avert the thunderstorm that threatens
to break over the general's head. But death is not to be trifled with.
He sneers, since thousands of prisoners are still lying in earthen huts
with freezing guts and shivering limbs. Death is swifter than the fear
of the German soldiers, who now suddenly know that they are just
as liable to die as the prisoners. Death goes through the camp from
one end to the other, sparing none.
In the wet October and November snow the footpaths disappear
under the slush. The roofs of the earthen huts are to be reinforced
so as to help the prisoners fight off the cold. The last tom and ragged
pieces of clothing are issued to the prisoners, who walk through the
camp with covered heads to protect themselves from the damp.
Among them some creature hobbles who is not to be recognized-is
he one of those goblins whom delirium has transformed into a happy
man or is he death in mocker's guise? It seems that the moment has
come when the higher-ups must initiate big measures.
"Corpse mountains are growing,
Mass graves overflowing.... "
And now a new fanfare bursts forth: Hitler, the knight who
fights against death and devils, will set himself up as an exemplar;
it is he who will traffic with death anew and snatch the victory from
his jaws. Hitler will again search out the Jews-his mortal enemies–
whom he considers to be more deserving of death than any other
people. And so it happens. Those who have buried the dead now
begin to dig their own graves. Then the shots of the Gestapo ring
out, and one grave-digger after another sinks into the grave, while
the few who remain shovel in the dirt over them. But who is to bury
the dead now, if death should fail to obey Hitler's order to withdraw
from the camp?
Thousands are shot. The communists are shot; in groups of five,
bound together with iron chains, they are mowed down in the forest
near the cemetery. Chaos reigns. Once more the camp statistician
attempts to bring order into the daily returns from the camp blocks.
