584
PARTISAN REVIEW
There was, he said, no need for information, they already knew all about
me and my gang, what they expected was a full confession. I was to write
an unsparing, self-critical report of my activities. If I did this, exposing my
role and that of my accomplices, then the Party would show leniency and
perhaps even forgive me.
I asked him what role he was talking about. He replied brusquely that
it was the AVH that was asking the questions now and that it was my duty
to supply honest answers. Then he left me to myself.
There followed a never-ending 48 hours . When I completed a report
on my activities, I was given questions about friends of mine to answer in
writing. Then my report was returned to me with annotations about which
parts were to be elaborated upon in even the most minute details. Again I
was asked specific questions and demands were made for more details.
Finally my Lieutenant appeared again , freshly shaven and well rested.
He called me a hardened criminal and told me that I should understand
that the Party did not expect fairy tales from me but rather an unsparing
confession of guilt and the unmasking of my accomplices.
With this everything began again : the report , written questions about
friends and strangers, also about long forgotten details I had omitted . These
last gave me the impression that they actually knew everything about my
life and believed that I was trying to hide something from them. Then again,
the report returned to me, more questions, more answers , more details.
At first, during this long ordeal, I was assailed by hunger, but as the
night fell, I forgot that I had not had anything to eat or to drink for 48
hours; all I wanted was an opportunity to sleep . But as soon as I began
to
nod, a guard would come along and shake me awake. And so it went for two
days and two nights: questions , the report, new answers , new demands, new
details. I wanted to cooperate, to clear up misunderstandings, to pitilessly
unmask myself and my friends since this was what the Party demanded of
me. But what was there to unmask?
When finally the nightmare ended and I was led back to my cell, I
could not even touch the cold beans in the tin bowl that was placed just
outside the cell door.
For the next three days, nothing happened. I slept a great deal , wakened
only in the morning when a guard would lead me to a doorless toilet and
washbasin, and then place a tin bowl with lukewarm coffee in my cell.
Later-it must have been in the evening-he would return with another
bowl-this filled with sticky beans.
I waited for the moment when they would appear before the door and
tell me that everything had been a mistake: go home, comrade, we 're sorry
that we doubted, even for a moment, your loyalty to the Party .
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