Who does not work, should not eat!
Obvious this antisocial principle of a socially presenting social order is strictly applied to us. The herbal soup becomes thinner, the closer the winter comes, the Kascha from overcooked potatoes more watery, and even the bread! We should receive 600 grammes daily in three parts; we also get it, but it is so wet, that the water dripps if one crushes it. It is "cooked" in rectangular metal boxes, the forms become with kerosene ausgeschmiert, so that it does not get stuck. Thus the bread tastes of diesel. At night we get up, not only because we must resign - we look whether the baker's smokes. Then we know that she has received flour, and that there is in the morning bread. For days, however, she stands there grimly and coldly, once there are fourteen days no bread. Also no substitute. The water soup and this a little mash hardly fill the stomach and do not satisfy the hunger at all. In this time I learn to dab on the crumbs with the finger, a custom which has not left me till this day.
We become sharp observers and learn to estimate very well whether a bread serving 200 grammes has not chosen or, the man, to the bread and sugar distributor, no light existence has. To the product receipt he is always accompanied. It is divided of the "Buchanken", the square loaf, with a wooden knife. Weighed on tinkered beam scales. A pinewood spill, from the fire wood cut gives light. While in his warm light the divisor works, the hungry bend in the semicircle around him, and also the shades watch. Often I think what would give for a painting. If the chip go out, and the bread is put away with the spoon of sugar, we lie again on the naked boards and stare in the darkness. The selftailored sleeping-bag from the Luftwaffenplache holds me warmer than the others. When it has begun, I do not know any more, but it is the hunger which does not leave us any more, also not after the meals: We tell our favorite courts to each other, yes, we cook them in spirit with all delicacies even.
We: There is Dr. Küster, the judge. I get on with him best of all. Beside me lies MD Fritz Handleger. He has a photo of his wife with the little son on the arm, similarly mine which has fallen down to me from the raised hide. Closely packed with us there lies Leo Schorf, the viticulturist's son dreams of becoming a dentist. Beside him Phummer, the chemist, the cellist from the congregational orchestra. How old " he seemed to me, to the 15-year-old if he stroked his Soli!
Mysteriously initiates us Phummer: Whether want we to take part in the malt production? One can wash out from potato skin strength from which with the help of germinated barley malt is to be won. He must deliver that, admittedly, of the Russian doctor, she is interested very much in his suggestion, but something will already jump out for us. We look, and are present. The next morning already we enter, from the other than "Phummer-Bummerln" laughed, in the earth bunker which should become our working place.
First we cart potato skin and potato rubbish from the kitchen in our bunker which was of early washhouse of the concentration camp. In a concrete washbasin they are rammed. We tax away the Schlämpe, so that it retreats. Besides, it does not go for us badly. We cart and stamp, schlämpen and scoop, for weeks. The tender-mauve strength which retreats cuts off Phummer after the solidification and - disappears. Production secret. We use the deeper deposit, by sand more or less dirtied, for ourselves. Boiling some spoon of it in the water soup given and on our oven once again, a wonderfully "creamy" soup - also gives a word which now only I get to know. Delightfully the creamy soup fills the stomach, from it is with the cooking conversations! In addition, roast in a tin potato little piece, low-cut from rotten potatoes, from sluggish privileged Schälkommandos much too fast rejected.
Some have reviled us whether of the voluntary deployment of labour; Erich would be sincerely owed for this chance to get over the first prisoner's of war winter for weeks well. The barley germinates in the warmth of our bunker in which we are lifted out so delightfully from the mass, then she fetches Erich to mix them in the confidential production process. One day he leaves us a tin with molasses leftovers ausschlecken. Humph, not badly! This will also recognise the doctor.
For a long time nobody more laughs at us. One sees clear what introduces this game " in us, and envies them us. I begin to save bread and sugar. Already is Advent, and Christmas approaches. I have learnt to do a Überguß on toast with humid sugar. Possession makes distrustful, and hungry are weak people, even if they have been officers. With the countable appeal a young Protestant priest, second lieutenant of the anti-aircraft artillery, as a bread thief is shown up. A shout of the indignation. To me the voice dies down with glottal stop in the throat. Thank God! Pharisee! I am full and must not steal. The poor priest. Companions robbing officer would have already been enough. But the inhibition thresholds lie passed away high. If nobody raises, that you would not be directed. In the evening we rehearse under captain Hutterichs Leitung carols; the pastor is absent...
At night I have to go on the latrine. The baker's smokes, there is bread. I do not see that the cesspool is chock-full. How the bomb falls in the hole, I splash to me the bottom with liquid manure. Person, disgusts me! Like a dog who has worms travels around I in the snow, before I slip in the trousers. Dr. Handleger to whom I report my bad luck on the fool's wand murmurs in the half sleep: " Nothing but healthy people here...!
We have lice in Salaspils none, but Fleeing, Fleeing! The first in the morning is to hang the body-warm cover in the cold and to search the fleeing which bore with the head into the puke. A dozen is a thin distance. I do this mostly with naked upper part of the body, this a few gymnastic exercises. For lack of water, toothbrush and toothpaste I massage the gums with the finger. To the washing reaches snow. The banja is weekly accessible to us only once; the working commands have everywhere precedence.