THE GREEN KING (part 19)
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The Photographer
from Salzburg
‘When we
arrived here, at the beginning of February,’ said Klimrod, ‘we had come from
Buchenwald. We were twenty-three before Buchenwald, but five boys were burned
there and two others died between Buchenwald and Mauthausen. The officers who
used us as women killed those two in the trucks and I buried them. They couldn’t
walk anymore, they cried all the time, and they lost all their teeth, which
made them less attractive. One was nine and the other was a little older,
eleven maybe. The officers road in a car and we were in a truck, but from time
to time they made us get out and walk, sometimes run, holding us by cords tied
around our necks. This was to make us lose the strength or even the desire to
run away.’
He pushed
himself away from the wall with his hand. He was looking at the book with an
almost hypnotic intensity, but he didn’t stop talking, the way, thought Tarras,
a school boy recites his lesson while looking at a bird outside.
‘But before
Muhenwald, were we arrived right after Christmas, we spent time in Chemnizt.
Before Chemnitz, we were in the Grossrosen camp. Before Grossrosen, the Plaszow
camp – that’s in Poland, near Cracow and that was in the summer.’
He moved
completely way from the wall and began to walk slowly in the direction of the
cabinet.
‘But we stayed
only three months at Plaszow, where some of the boys died, mostly from hunger.
Six. I don’t know their names. Before Plazsow, we walked for a very long time
in the forest… No, first we were at Przemyzl … but we walked before and after,
for a long time. We were coming from the camp at Janowska. I was in Janowska
twice. That time, in May of last year, and once before, in 1941, when I was
twelve and a half.
TO BE CONTINUED
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I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
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