Corpses

The coffee tasted terrible. It was cool outside, so the beverage warmed Werner up from the inside, even if it made him pull a face every time he took a sip. He was on duty with three other SS-Officers. 

Werner was an SS-Officer. He wasn't just a soldier, wasn't just a man of the German Army. He was a man of Auschwitz. 

He was the kind of man that historians and normal folks shudder at when they hear the name. He was one of the biggest criminals of 20th Century Germany. And he could do nothing about it. 

Werner was too nervous to talk to the other men. He didn't want to betray himself as someone who wasn't a Nazi, and might be seen as a spy or an enemy. He also didn't want to know the men he was working with. They scared him. How could they smile while strolling through this oppressed city? How could they crack jokes about the people, about the Jews?

On that foggy morning it became clear to him; they didn't see the jews as people. He didn't know if they imagined they were herding sheep, Nutztiere, if they were punishing mass murderers or whatever else they could imagine to make what they were doing alright. To still the nagging guilt in their gut, to give the horrible demon baby that threatened to flesh them apart from the inside a generous breast to suckle on. So that it would be quiet. So that they could do their work. 

Or did they see the Jews as terrible people? As destroyers of humanity? He'd never taken the time to read Mein Kampf but he was sure that it was full of complaints and accusations. 

They head to the barracks and drove the men out. Two older Jewish men wouldn't budge. One of the SS men, someone who'd spent time talking with Maihöfer the last night, nodded at Werner. Werner wasn't sure exactly what to do, but he suspected he was supposed to wake them. He stepped up to the cot and leaned downwards a bit. The men stank. He was about to say: entschuldigung, when he realized that would be his death-sentence. "Aufstehen! (get up)" He ordered. He was surprised at how firm his voice sounded, he sounded like a Nazi from a WWII movie. The men didn't move. 

"Lass mich ran. (let me do it)." The SS-Officer said. He lifted his leg and kicked one of the men in the stomach as hard as he could. "Aufstehen hat er gesagt! (he said to get up!)" Werner expected the man to cry out in agony, but he didn't. The officer started to laugh and turned to Werner and his comrades. "They're dead. That's why they wouldn't move." Nobody else laughed. Not even Maihöfer. Werner felt sick to the stomach. "Werner, Maihöfer, take them away. You know where." He said, gesturing to Maihöfer who nodded vigourously. The ever-laughing man and his cronies left, leaving Werner and his partner to clean up. 

"We should take them out one by one right?" Werner said. Maihöfer laughed.

"We don't have to, Killy. Just grab them by the feet and drag them across the yard." He demonstrated, grabbing the man by the ankles and pulling him out of the bed. The dead man's head made a loud thump as it hit the ground. But no blood pooled onto the floor. "See, they're so starved they won't even bleed." He started to drag him away. 

Werner waited a second, then grabbed the other man under the arms and carried him out gently. Making sure his head didn't hit the wooden floor or the doorframe. 

He followed Maihöfer to the place they had to deport the corpses. Werner wished he could close his eyes, but he couldn't. And closing his eyes wouldn't change anything. 

He heaved the body into the container. "Gonna get burned in three days, hope they won't stink up the place up till then." Maihöfer said with a grin. Werner must have looked depressed because Maihöfer touched his shoulder and whispered; "You gotta mask your horror a little bit, Werner, otherwise you'll end up in the container next to them." He pat him on the shoulder and left. Werner was startled; had the man who'd just disrespectively dragged a corpse halfway across the camp told him to be careful? Maihöfer dissapeared around the corner of one of the barracks. 

Werner slowly started to walk in the same direction when he heard shouting from the left. He stopped and turned his head. Silence. After a second another bout of yelling interuppted from a nearby barrack. He peered towards it, should he go? Almost as if he was in a trance he neared the commotion. He halted a respectful ten meters away from the entrance. What was going on in there, they seemed to be arguing? And they weren't speaking German, that sounded like polish...

A man strode out. Werner started. The man looked in his direction and waved him over. To Werners dismay it was the Lagerführer. Werner obediently crossed over to him. The man lit a cigarette and inhaled, exhaling the cloud of smoke into Werner's face. "Want to come in when I'm done with the smoke?" He asked. 

"I - I don't know. If you need me to, sir." He hastily added. 

"You might as well." He took another drag, then held out the cigarette to Werner who accepted it. He lifted it to his lips and pulled in a smallish but deep breath. It was the first time that Werner had ever smoked a cigarette. It made him cough. "You don't smoke much?" The Lagerführer asked with an amused smile. 

"Never before." He answered, still coughing. The man laughed and pat him on the shoulder, flicking his cigarette onto the ground and putting it out with his heel. 

"Let's go inside." 

So Werner followed the Lagerführer into the dark and damp barrack, where he first met the man who would change his life.

Forever.