68 Man's Search
for Meaning
finding the rucksack and even a toothbrush, I suddenly saw,
among all the things that had been left behind, the body of
a woman.
I ran back to my hut to collect all my possessions: my
food bowl, a pair of torn mittens "inherited" from a dead
typhus patient, and a few scraps of paper covered with
shorthand notes (on which, as I mentioned before, I had
started to reconstruct the manuscript which I lost at
Auschwitz). I made a quick last round of my patients, who
were lying huddled on the rotten planks of wood on either
side of the huts. I came to my only countryman, who was
almost dying, and whose life it had been my ambition to
save in spite of his condition. I had to keep my intention to
escape to myself, but my comrade seemed to guess that
something was wrong (perhaps I showed a little nervous
ness). In a tired voice he asked me, "You, too, are getting
out?" I denied it, but I found it difficult to avoid his sad
look. After my round I returned to him. Again a hopeless
look greeted me and somehow I felt it to be an accusation.
The unpleasant feeling that had gripped me as soon as I
had told my friend I would escape with him became more
intense. Suddenly I decided to take fate into my own hands
for once. I ran out of the hut and told my friend that I
could not go with him. As soon as I had told him with
finality that I had made up my mind to stay with my pa
tients, the unhappy feeling left me. I did not know what
the following days would bring, but I had gained an in
ward peace that I had never experienced before. I returned
to the hut, sat down on the boards at my countryman's feet
and tried to comfort him; then I chatted with the others,
trying to quiet them in their delirium.
Our last day in camp arrived. As the battle-front came
nearer, mass transports had taken nearly all the prisoners to
other camps. The camp authorities, the Capos and the
cooks had fled. On this day an order was given that the
Experiences in a Concentration Camp 69
camp must be evacuated completely by sunset. Even the few
remaining prisoners (the sick, a few doctors, and some
"nurses") would have to leave. At night, the camp was to be
set on fire. In the afternoon the trucks which were to collect
the sick had not yet appeared. Instead the camp gates were
suddenly closed and the barbed wire closely watched, so
that no one could attempt an escape. The remaining pris
oners seemed to be destined to burn with the camp. For the
second time my friend and I decided to escape.
We had been given an order to bury three men outside
the barbed wire fence. We were the only two in camp who
had strength enough to do the job. Nearly all the others lay
in the few huts which were still in use, prostrate with fever
and delirium. We now made our plans: along with the first
body we would smuggle out my friend's rucksack, hiding it
in the old laundry tub which served as a coffin. When we
took out the second body we would also carry out my ruck
sack, and on the third trip we intended to make our escape.
The first two trips went according to plan. After we re
turned, I waited while my friend tried to find a piece of
bread so that we would have something to eat during the
next few days in the woods. I waited. Minutes passed. I
became more and more impatient as he did not return.
After three years of imprisonment, I was picturing free
dom joyously, imagining how wonderful it would be to run
toward the battle-front. But we did not get that far.
The very moment when my friend came back, the camp
gate was thrown open. A splendid, aluminum-colored car,
on which were painted large red crosses, slowly rolled on to
the parade ground. A delegate from the International Red
Cross in Geneva had arrived, and the camp and its inmates
were under his protection. The delegate billeted himself in
a farmhouse in the vicinity, in order to be near the camp at
all times in case of emergency. Who worried about escape
now? Boxes with medicines were unloaded from the car,
70 Man's Search for Meaning
cigarettes were distributed, we were photographed and joy
reigned supreme. Now there was no need for us to risk
running toward the fighting line.
In our excitement we had forgotten the third body, so we
carried it outside and dropped it into the narrow grave we
had dug for the three corpses. The guard who accompanied
us—a relatively inoffensive man—suddenly became quite
gentle. He saw that the tables might be turned and tried to
win our goodwill. He joined in the short prayers that we
offered for the dead men before throwing soil over them.
After the tension and excitement of the past days and
hours, those last days in our race with death, the words of
our prayer asking for peace, were as fervent as any ever
uttered by the human voice.
And so the last day in camp passed in anticipation of
freedom. But we had rejoiced too early. The Red Cross
delegate had assured us that an agreement had been signed,
and that the camp must not be evacuated. But that night
the SS arrived with trucks and brought an order to clear the
camp. The last remaining prisoners were to be taken to a
central camp, from which they would be sent to Switzerland
within forty-eight hours—to be exchanged for some pris
oners of war. We scarcely recognized the SS. They were so
friendly, trying to persuade us to get in the trucks without
fear, telling us that we should be grateful for our good luck.
Those who were strong enough crowded into the trucks and
the seriously ill and feeble were lifted up with difficulty. My
friend and I—we did not hide our rucksacks now—stood in
the last group, from which thirteen would be chosen for the
next to last truck. The chief doctor counted out the requi
site number, but he omitted the two of us. The thirteen
were loaded into the truck and we had to stay behind.
Surprised, very annoyed and disappointed, we blamed the
chief doctor, who excused himself by saying that he had
been tired and distracted. He said that he had thought we
Experiences in a Concentration Camp 71
still intended to escape. Impatiently we sat down, keeping
our rucksacks on our backs, and waited with the few re
maining prisoners for the last truck. We had to wait a long
time. Finally we lay down on the mattresses of the deserted
guard-room, exhausted by the excitement of the last few
hours and days, during which we had fluctuated continu
ally between hope and despair. We slept in our clothes and
shoes, ready for the journey.
The noise of rifles and cannons woke us; the flashes of
tracer bullets and gun shots entered the hut. The chief
doctor dashed in and ordered us to take cover on the floor.
One prisoner jumped on my stomach from the bed above
me and with his shoes on. That awakened me all rightl
Then we grasped what was happening: the battle-front had
reached us! The shooting decreased and morning dawned.
Outside on the pole at the camp gate a white flag floated in
the wind.
Many weeks later we found out that even in those last
hours fate had toyed with us few remaining prisoners. We
found out just how uncertain human decisions are, es
pecially in matters of life and death. I was confronted with
photographs which had been taken in a small camp not far
from ours. Our friends who had thought they were travel
ing to freedom that night had been taken in the trucks to
this camp, and there they were locked in the huts and
burned to death. Their partially charred bodies were rec
ognizable on the photograph. I thought again of Death in
Teheran.
Apart from its role as a defensive mechanism, the pris
oners' apathy was also the result of other factors. Hunger
and lack of sleep contributed to it (as they do in normal