Luigi Poggioli – Walpersberg / Runway

They had taken less than half the money I had offered them and had even apologized that, with all the prisoners who came by begging for something, very little was left for them. Tegoni nudged me and we went around the arcade, which lay as a kind of courtyard next to the entrance. There I saw how he skillfully took down something that looked like a piece of pork rind and put it in his pocket. It had been hanging on a nail driven into a beam of the low roof. Only at some distance from the hospitable farm did he show me the object of desire and explained that it was the penis of a pig that had been slaughtered in winter, and that it had probably been hung there as part of some reconciliation ritual or primitive custom. After shaving the bristles off the rind and scraping it a little, he cut it into small pieces, which we divided fairly. Poorly and vainly chewed, we then quickly tasted and devoured them. The enormous lack of fat forced us to satisfy our desire and with infinite pleasure consume the most incredible foods. In the early afternoon, we were more than satisfied with the happy course of the day. We had eaten enough and in our backpacks we still had at least six eggs, over one and a half kilos of black bread, four kilos of small apples, some pieces of smoked bacon, and a good four dried pig penises, which we would fairly divide before returning to the barracks. We had reached a point where the hilltop was gently undulating. It was a huge cultivation area belonging to a vast large enterprise. This, strangely enough, consisted of a single building complex of at least three stories, entirely made of stone, which we saw at about five hundred meters distance. As we approached, we saw on the left the dragon balloons of the anti-aircraft defense of Jena. All details could be clearly seen, which meant that we were over ten kilometers from Kahla and faced a march of more than four hours back to Camp 7. Unfortunately, the large building aroused our curiosity too much, so the matter ended fatally. Before we reached the entrance, we met a Slav, two Poles, and a Czechoslovak, who finally understood our inquiries and brought us to a German who was working in the courtyard. He said he did not want money from us but unfortunately could give us nothing except potatoes. I thought I had not understood correctly, because all day long we had not seen a single potato. But he led us to a door of the potato storage and instructed an old woman to supply us. Then he began to question us about the progress of work in Kahla. When the woman placed a large basket next to us so we could fill our backpacks, we could not even touch the potatoes because the hysterical screaming of another woman paralyzed us. She was young, apparently from the city judging by her appearance and clothing, and obviously still in shock after the air raids: "Bombers are coming! Everything, everything is destroyed!" were the only understandable words of her screaming, which she uttered with tears and a drooling mouth before decisively ordering us to be taken to the "policeman." The nice German who had offered us potatoes tried in vain to calm the hysterical woman, but he soon had to give up. He spread his arms as a sign of apology and handed us over to two German workers and the Czechoslovak so they could take us to the local security officer. We found him after walking silently over dry land for about ten minutes; he was plowing a field with his draft horse. After the report and a heated argument among the four, the one who was presumably the overseer silenced the others with a harsh order. Then he went to fetch a large pistol in a leather holster with a belt, which the Czechoslovak was to wear. Then the latter took an oath and took us under his protection. Only when we were far from the industrial building and thus safe from the eyes of all involved did the Czechoslovak adopt a warlike stance and loudly recited a series of incomprehensible words—perhaps threats, perhaps advice—that no longer interested us at all, for we had already resigned ourselves to the bad end of such a beautiful day, when the crazy woman had first let out hysterical screams. After about an hour of silent marching, we reached a large village. Behind some windows and open doors, lights were already being turned on. In the middle of a long row of houses along the main side of a huge desolate square, the Czech pressed a loud bell. Immediately, a neatly dressed older woman came running smiling and greeted us politely. After a lengthy exchange of words, the old woman went back inside and immediately a man, probably her husband, stepped onto the threshold. He was certainly the tallest person I had ever seen in my life, and also thin and bony. He wore slippers, pants tied at the calves, and a gray vest with green trim, unbuttoned.After a brief glance, he tried to rearrange his ugly, slack facial features and silenced our companion, who had tried to report, with a brusque "one moment." Then he withdrew into the house. He did not come out again until more than a quarter of an hour later. Now he was perfectly dressed, wearing his police uniform along with the typical headgear that forced him into an unnatural bow as he stepped out the door and down the two steps. He ignored our greeting and ordered the Czech to be silent again. Then he stood in front of me and scrutinized me for a few moments. Suddenly, he slapped me loudly with his huge bony hand. I was dazed for several minutes and, fortunately, was left speechless. He immediately repeated the same heroic gesture on Tegoni, who gritted his teeth but silently endured it. Then followed the usual speech ritual with the policeman who asked the questions and the confused Czechoslovak who gave the explanations. He obviously stuck to the truth, because after a good ten minutes the policeman released our companion and brought us to the middle of the square. After taking our identity cards16, he locked us in a storage room without saying another word to us and even without searching our pockets. When our eyes adjusted to the darkness, we could examine our prison more closely. It was a chamber about two by three meters in size, approximately two meters high. It was ventilated by a small window (about thirty by forty centimeters), in front of which an open iron grille was fixed. Opposite was the door, not even one and a half meters high. The toilet bucket was made from a tin can and stood next to the door. The roughly 1.3-meter-wide bunk was located in the corner farthest from the door. The floor was completely covered with straw, and old paper and various trash lay everywhere. When Tegoni saw all this, he hoped that at least no chemicals were among it, because then we would not have been able to sleep. The next morning, the policeman came by while it was still dark to pick us up and escort us to the train station. There he handed us over to two German overseers. One of them was an assistant at one of the construction sites directly below the tunnel entrance on the hill. I had come to know him as a decent person.