Nationalsozialistisch

Werner had thought that the world might be a little bit nicer to him that day, after having made him hear that the only man who could cure his illness was sentenced to death, but it wasn't. 

He was forced to work alongside men who's evil grins made them look more like puppets then actual people, and in turn, the men that he was making work, looked like old dolls in their run-down state. Sometimes he would just stop. Stop marching, stop following the other soldiers, stop breathing. And he'd look around him, and no matter how hard he tried to calm himself a feeling of anxiety overcame him. It crept up his legs, little spiders against cold skin, it travelled up the back of his neck and crawled into the holes of his eyes, dissapperaring inside the sockets to nag at his mind, making him slowly go crazy. And then, as abruptly as the shock ambushed him, it would vanish and he'd hurry off, running after the small group of soliders that he was supposed to stay with. These kinds of short periods of paralysation happened to him several times the first day and, though less frequently, the rest of his stay in Auschwitz. 

The first day was terrible. A horrible feeling of guilt and shame would remain with him for the times he had to yell at the Jews, the Czechs, a handful of Russians and many Polish men and women. He had to scream at them, if he didn't he would have been risking his life. The first few times his voice threatened to crack but he managed to remain strong somehow. After a few days he had gotten used to raising his voice almost currently. He knew however, that he would never be able to truely forgive himself for what he did in Auschwitz even if he'd had no choice.

The only upside to his first day working was lunch; a fellow soldier told him that there was a telephone booth in each residence. Werners mood perked up a bit, he now had a means of communicating with Marie. Of course, only once the two weeks had passed and she'd returned home. But still, there was something he could look forward too.

After lunch he joined the handful of soldiers to return to the group of prisoners that they were watching over. On the march to the enclosed area Werner fell into conversation with one of the SS men. The man was silver-haired, in his mid-forties but with a younger way about him. His name was easy to pronounce and easy to forget; Hart. His first name was Nikolai and he whispered it to Werner, pleading him to not say it out loud because it sounded too Russian. Having a Russian sounding name might not be enough to get you shot but it was enough to raise suspicions, Nikolai'd explained. But his eyes were twinkling when he said it. Werner couldn't tell if he was part Russian and was smiling because of that or if he was joking. 

"First days can be confusing, but you'll get the hang of it." He promised Werner. "I've been here for over a month, I was in one of the other camps before. This one is much bigger, took some time for me to get used to even though I'd worked in a KZ before." 

"I'm not going to have to do anything with the chambers right?" Werner asked nervously. 

"Well, you probably will. You won't be the ones who let the gas in, you're not qualified, but you might have to herd a group inside." He explained. Werner's heart dropped into his boots. His expression darkened as well; Nikolai grabbed his hand. "Don't worry. We all have skeletons in the closet." Skeletons in the closet, yes, but most people don't have Jews in their chamber. Werner was surprised that his new aquaintence had grabbed his hand. It didn't seem very nationalsozialistisch to do that. Empathy wasn't big in Hitler's book. 

It was a long and diffecult day. Werner was on his feet the whole time, his voice was rough and over-used by dinner and his mood was the worst he'd ever experienced. Even the chemotherapy, even the countless drugs he'd been on back home, all those hadn't made him as depressed as Auschwitz. 

Nikolai had seeked him out at dinner and found him. He'd proposed they take a walk together "to clear your mind and relax the soul" he'd said. Werner had agreed but not because he thought he could achieve what Nikolai had suggested, but because he wanted to escape the rowdy bunch of German soldiers. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts either. This morning felt like ages ago, but he could still see the sight of Maihöfer dragging the Jew out of the barrack, could still hear the painfull thump as his head had hit the dirty floor...Werner shook the thoughts out of his head. 

The air was crisp and dark. Nikolai reached into his breast-pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He offered one to Werner who took it. 

"I smoked the first time ever this morning." He said as Nikolai lit the paper for him. "And now I'm already an addict." He added. Nikolai laughed and shrugged.

"There are worse things to be." He pointed out. Werner was sure, though he couldn't explain how, that Nikolai meant it's worse to be an SS-Officer. There was something peculiar about the forty-year-old German. Something that made him different from the rest. "Do you have any loved ones waiting for you at home?" He asked after lighting his own coffin nail. 

"Not really no...well, there is a girl..." Werner said, and his lips curled up at the thought of Marie. Nikolai smiled at his young friend. Finally the boy seemed to be overcoming the first shock of Auschwitz. 

"What's her name?" Nikolai asked.

"Marie." Werner answered. 

"Marie." He repeated. "What a beautiful name." 

"What about you?"

"A wife and two children. Beautiful girls, all of them." He said with a melanchonic smile. That smile was one that Werner never forgot. It was beautiful in it's sadness. 

The two walked in silence for a little bit, smoking. Werner noticed that Nikolai walked with a slight limp, but it didn't look like a fresh limp that had been caused recently, it looked like a limp caused from an accident long ago. Werner thought about asking his companion what had happened, but he was afraid he might be over-stepping. He decided that he could trust Nikolai. The long but neither heavy nor oppressing silence between them as they walked, told both that the other wouldn't rat them out, no matter what they confided in each other.