Eyewitness Testimony Balilla Bolognesi

Balilla Bolognesi Second Book: "The Deportation: the Darkness" (May 5, 1944 to April 6, 1945) Translator Isabella Schwaderer (unless otherwise noted) or Berit Brünning (marked passages) Foreword (pp. 1-4): Historical background of the deportations and the use of prisoners of war in labor camps Narrative: pp. 5-7 May 5, 1944: German soldiers enter Esanatoglia and order the birth cohorts 1914-1927 to labor duty. March on foot to Matelica of about 50 men from E., aged between 17 and 30 years. Accommodation in a room lined with straw, ration of 1 roll with mortadella. "May 5: It was about 5:30 in the morning, we were awakened by cannon fire and machine gun fire. We got up, I went to the window and saw German soldiers going from house to house pulling the men out; they were to assemble in the marketplace. The Germans had surrounded our village with the help of some fascists. We were all driven together at Porta S. Andrea; they had all our names and addresses from April 1 from the municipality of Esanatoglia, when they had carried out a punitive expedition in our village; they had blown up houses and shot two innocent hostages in Piazza Cavour. They told us we would be taken to labor duty in Macerata in our region, for road construction work. They called the young men born between 1914 and 1927 and told us we had one hour to pack our things. It was warm and we took very little with us. We gathered again, with our relatives around us, and they said goodbye to us convinced that we would soon return, and that all this, compared to the front, was no misfortune. At 12 o’clock the march to Matelica began in ranks, flanked by soldiers. There was no desperate cry of pain, at most a few tears from our parents and the outcry of Mariano Chiappa, whose son Italo was among us: "I will never see you again, my son!" hands raised to the sky. Indeed, the poor 17-year-old boy did not return, he died in Kahla. From Esanatoglia we were about 50 men, the oldest were 30 years old, the youngest 17, and some of these had not yet completed their 17th year. We marched slowly and arrived at Matelica at 1:30 pm and were taken to the ground floor of Palazzo Ottoni; there were dark rooms without furniture, only some straw on the floor. Around 5 pm they brought us a roll with mortadella. We spent the night stretched out on the straw with other young men from Macerata who were already there, talked and made all sorts of guesses. pp. 7-11 May 6: (until May 9) Transport by truck to Sforzacosta. Accommodation in a former camp for Allied prisoners, sleeping on the remains of prisoners’ beds, bedbugs. Prisoners write an ironic "war report." About 900-1000 men from Esanatoglia, Matelica, Castelraimondo, San Severino, Tolentino, Cingoli, etc. (province of Macerata), from raids on orders of Gauleiter Fritz Saukel in this area (to weaken the partisans). Life like in a concentration camp: 2 meals a day, at 12 and 6 pm, consisting of soup, 50g bread with salami or jam. No spoons, only one water tap on the grounds. After a week the number grows to about 1500 prisoners. Saturday, May 6: In the morning they gave us the usual roll. A few relatives came to say goodbye to me, also my little fiancée, sweet Bianca. Shortly after, the trucks came and at 3 pm we had to say farewell because we were going to Sforzacosta, where we arrived around 4:15 pm. I forgot to mention that with me were also my brother Giuseppe, my cousin Walter and my cousin Aminta; the latter was sent home after a few days because he was sick. As soon as we arrived, a "Nazi committee" received us, German soldiers who made us get out of the truck with shouts of "quick, quick, out!" and lined us up in ranks. They threatened us with the butt of their rifles and brought us into the camp. This was a former prisoner camp for Allied soldiers, consisting of unused wooden barracks, some cement barracks and of course the masonry soldiers’ quarters. All had barred windows and were surrounded by barbed wire fence. We found ourselves in hell; threatening shouting accompanied us at every movement. Our group was housed in an old barrack with a cement floor. Everyone looked for a corner along the outer walls, but since it was clear that we could not spend the night on the bare cement floor, we searched for something. We found many wooden boards that had once been parts of the bunk beds of the Allies and each took some to lay side by side on the floor. During the night, however, we noticed countless bedbugs that hid during the day in the cracks of the wood and attacked our limbs at night. It was impossible to sleep like that and so we spent this first night with stories, jokes and nonsense to relieve the tension... we were young. [ironic "war report" that the owner of the bar in Esanatoglia was supposed to hang in his window, but he refused] In this camp of Sforzacosta we were crammed together 900/1000, people who came from raids in Esanatoglia, Matelica, Castelraimondo, San Severino, Tolentino, Cingoli and other villages of the province of Macerata, from the areas where the partisans were particularly strong. With these raids the Nazi fascists pursued two important goals: to prevent these disobedient and rebellious people from reinforcing the ranks of the partisans, and secondly, very important for the Nazis, to supply themselves with free labor that they wanted to exploit on German soil; this on orders of Gauleiter Fritz Saukel. Life in the camp resembled that of a concentration camp. Two meals a day, at 12 and 6 pm; a soup, 50g bread with salami or jam. For the soup they gave us a clay bowl, but we had to make the spoon ourselves, from the aforementioned boards, which we patiently worked with a knife. To wash this bowl, to wash one’s face, to drink, one had to queue in long lines, because there was only one water tap, no toilets and guards at the entrance. Every day new arrivals came and after a week our number had grown to 1500." pp. 11-12 May 10: Medical examination pp. 12-13 May 15: Letter from motherpp. 13-15 May 16: Selection of 170 people, including the author, his brother Giuseppe, his cousin Walter. Escape attempt by the author and Cannelli Antonio; they soon return to not abandon their relatives. Around 6:00 p.m., transport to Florence in old buses. Strange route: Sforzacosta – Chieti Valley – Colfiorito – but at night in Umbertide, pause. Città di Castello – Villa San Lucia. Allied airplane, everyone gets out and hides in a vineyard, some manage to escape. pp. 15-16 May 17 Arrival in Florence around 10 a.m. Piazza Santa Maria Novella, 10, an Ursuline convent, is one of 33 collection points. Accommodation in clean rooms, 2 meals. Forms for voluntary registration for labor service in Germany appear; not everyone signs, but this makes no difference. p. 17 May 20: Distribution onto trucks with 2 armed soldiers per truck as escort. To the selection camp in Suzzara (Province of Modena). Well-equipped camp with bunk beds, regular and sufficient meals. It becomes clear that they are waiting for transport to Germany; prisoners from Marche, Tuscany, Umbria, and other regions. pp. 17-19 May 24, 1944: Speech by Monsignor Antonio Giordani, who had made a career through his connections to the fascists. pp. 19-20 May 25, 1944: A truck driver takes a letter to the parents. p. 20 May 26, 1944: Departure from Suzzara station in passenger cars. Verona – Brenner – Innsbruck. Stop, overnight stay. p. 21 May 27: Continued journey to Munich – Erfurt. pp. 21-23 May 28: B.B. meets Russian prisoners in the camp in miserable condition, they beg for food. Train to Weimar – Jena – Kahla – Orlamünde – Zeutsch. [List of prisoners from Esanatoglia: Antonini Nello Buldrini Angelo Cingolani Marino Bini Americo Buldrini Livio Crescentini Nello Bolognesi Balilla Buldrini Lorenzo Dipiero Angelo Bolognesi Giuseppe Calisti Marino Dolce Celeste Bolognesi Walter Cannelli Antonio Mariotti Mario Bottaccio Gino Casciani Francesco Micheli Nicola Brugnola Anacleto Chiappa Giuseppe Pedica Armando Bufarini Antonio Chiappa Italo Strinati Palmero Tozzi Colombo ] On foot to Niederkrossen. Accommodation in a festival hall on used straw (fleas) “Sunday, May 28, 1944. Awakened early in the morning, I go to the communal bathing rooms and almost have my heart stop when I see men emaciated to skeletons, assigned to clean the toilets, all ragged. They ask us for some food. They were Russian prisoners, so ravaged by hunger as they had been deported to Germany long ago. Around 10 a.m. again on the train to southern Thuringia via Erfurt - Weimar – Jena – Kahla – Orlamünde to the small village of Zeutsch. On foot about 6 km to Niederkrossen. From our departure from Suzzara to Niederkrossen no one told us where we were going and we traveled completely disoriented without knowing our destination. Fortunately, we were all from Esanatoglia together. [List of prisoners from Esanatoglia] Niederkrossen was hardly more than a farming village, there was a local pub, like a beer tavern with a stage and a horseshoe-shaped box, but it was no longer in use. Now it served as accommodation for us. In the box there was some straw and so everyone made their bed, using the backpack as a pillow or the small suitcase, without a blanket. We slept half clothed, it was warm. The straw was old, already used, because already on the first night there was no peace due to countless flea bites. pp. 23-24 May 29: New straw, washing in the Saale, disinfection of clothes in kettles. Individual questioning about origin and profession by two officials; at the end of the notes always the same stamp: “Farm worker.” Until the end of October two meals a day of vegetable soup, bread, and salami. [Up to here description based on notes B.B. had made at the time; following report from memory] Monday, May 29, 1944: We had complained and so they brought us new straw. We were taken to the Saale, completely naked, and had to wash ourselves while all our clothes were disinfected with steam in some kind of metal barrels. When we got out of the river, we had to pick our rags out of this steaming mass and, still wet, put them on. Before lunch, we had to line up in a row in the square in front of a table where two people filled out a sheet, general information, origin, profession exercised, but at the end they stamped all sheets with “Farm worker,” regardless of the profession we had indicated. We received a bowl and a spoon; at noon they gave us a vegetable soup, quite passable, bread and sausage, the same in the evening. Yes, because until October 1944 we got two meals a day, after that only one; but more on that later. pp. 25-31 Walpersberg Precise description of the location of W. Surrounding villages, roads. Brief historical overview of the Saale valley. Glue factory, porcelain factory in Kahla. Establishment of the quartz sand mine. Necessity of underground production facilities due to Allied bombing raids. Saukel develops “Hunter program.” Fictional letter from Saukel to Göring, in which he requests approval for the program. The labor forces come from mass arrests by the Wehrmacht, the SS, and the fascists in Italy after Mussolini’s consent in Klesseheim (April 1944), to send 1,500,000 workers to Germany. Other nationalities follow. Hunter program Large-scale project requiring huge construction measures (description) 95 resident companies worked with. pp. 32-34 Forced labor May 30, 1944: Assembly in Niederkrossen at 6:00 a.m., on foot to Zeutsch via Orlamünde and Großeutersdorf to Kahla. German foremen have trenches/foundations dug. Beatings, insults. Daily struggle for the best tools. Construction of barracks for the workers, camp 1. Work for B.B.’s group lasts 15 days [...] Tuesday, May 30: Niederkrossen; wake-up at 6 a.m., after half an hour on foot to Zeutsch station, about 5 km, then they let us board the train and after the small town of Orlamünde we arrived at Großeutersdorf. Then we marched about 1.5 km to Walpersberg to the northeastern slope towards Kahla. We were received by the German masters, who, armed with sticks, shouted at us in this language that was incomprehensible to us at the time and gestured with their hands to take a pickaxe or a shovel from the pile. They drew lines on the ground and signaled us to dig there, to dig trenches or foundations along the line. There were some, like me, who were not used to this kind of work; I shoveled slowly and the capo of our group began to curse and shout: “Come on, come on, pig, badoghlio!” etc. Meanwhilethe police, the SS, surrounded us and kept us in check. It would have been laughable if the situation had not been so tragic. Among us were university graduates, employees, and students who did not understand why they had to do this work, and above all under the constant threat of being beaten for no reason. Out of fear, or because they were used to it, many shoveled quickly, but most of us worked slowly, and then there was a hail of curses, and for those unlucky ones, occasional blows with sticks. At noon, a 45-minute break to eat turnip soup, then back to work until 6 p.m., on foot to the train, and then to Niederkrossen, also on foot, where we again received turnip soup as well as bread and sausage or jam.” Pp. 34 - 36 June 12: Photos for identity cards are taken in Kahla. Ceremony with music and speeches. Search for volunteers for the Italian SS. Encounter with a group of the Hitler Youth, insults, small fight. Squad leader reprimands the youths for the provocation. “Monday, June 12, 1944: They took us by train to Großeutersdorf and then on foot to Kahla, where we were photographed for the ID card. On the way back to Großeutersdorf, they let us rest on a meadow surrounded by fields, where a truck with an open loading area stood. Here was a xylophone, a drum set, and an accordion with the respective players. We had to sit in a U-shape, the accordion began to play with accompaniment, of all things the piece ‘Lost Hope.’ THAT’S A GOOD START! The music continued and German soldiers appeared with a fascist captain (Gerarch), who began a speech about the German-Italian friendship, the victorious war that would surely lead to the defeat of the Allied forces, “because our will, our faith, and our secret weapons will lead us to the final victory and the triumph of the Axis powers.” He continued and asked if volunteers wanted to sign up for the Italian SS or the troops to be formed by the Republic of Salò. No one moved, so the captain admonished us to contribute carefully with our work; we would be treated like the German workers, etc., etc. We pointed out that we needed clothes, shoes, and reasonable accommodation. He replied that he would forward our requests. We were on the way to Großeutersdorf when our column met a group of the Hitler Youth with a flag, and as they marched past us, they began shouting: “Shit, Badoglio, Macaroni, bandits” and held their noses. Two or three from our group rushed the leader and punched him; the flag fell to the ground. When the troop commander came, who had seen what happened, he scolded his boys for the provocation.” Pp. 36 - 42 Tactics on how to avoid work. Encounter with a woman who gives them bread. End of June all have broken shoes. Move to Construction Camp 1. Description of the facility. Hospital barrack as a dying place. Residential barracks. Organization of work: initially 10 hours per day, from September 1944 day and night shifts of 12 hours each. Workers equipped with wooden shoes. Common insults such as: Badoglio, pigs, traitors, shit, macaroni, gypsies, cat makers, cursed Italians. From July 1944: workers from all over Europe. Work in road construction in all weather. [Translation Berit Brünning <36> I worked with my brother and the usual group until mid-June at the …1, then we drained the flat terrain where roads were to be built; we always used hoes, shovels, or spades for this. In the evenings we always returned to Niederkrossen. But Carbonaro Elio from Matelica and I looked for a way to avoid the work; it was risky if one was careless, but it was possible because each of the German overseers took charge in the morning when we arrived at the workplace of 20 or 30 workers who then had to do the work assigned to them until evening. However, it could happen that many other groups were doing the same work at this spot, so the overseer could not recognize his word not readable <37> men and then it was enough if one lined up at the very back upon arrival and did not take any tools, because the boss did not know his men but understood that someone was missing if he saw a tool lying around that no one used. In the evening, half an hour before the end of work, we mixed with the others and the matter was settled. Occasionally it happened that the boss asked us: Where were you today, I didn’t see you working! And I answered: I was here with the others and worked. We played this game often, even when it rained, then we sought shelter under the trees and when the sun shone, we lay down somewhere remote. It was dangerous because it was enough for a passerby to become suspicious and call the police and then you were in trouble. One morning at the end of June – it was about nine o’clock in the morning – my friend from Matelica and I walked with our heads down along the country road that leads from Kahla to Rudolstadt; one of us walked on the left and the other on the right side; we searched for cigarette butts. Suddenly a woman on a bicycle overtook us, stopped, and came back to us. We already thought <38> we were in danger; what could she want from us? This kind-hearted creature stopped, pulled a loaf of bread out of her bag, and gave it to us. Then she got back on her bicycle and rode on while we thanked her in amazement. At the end of June 1944, almost all of us had broken shoes. In those days we were moved to the barracks of the new “Construction Camp 1” at Walpersberg. This camp had been built on clayey ground on a slope; at the top were the command barracks and the office of the camp leader, the kitchen, and the goods warehouses; on the sides, near the camp entrance, were the accommodations of the SS guards and further down all the barracks for us. At first, they laid a pipe with several water taps outdoors where we could drink and wash; sometime in November a barrack was built in which there was a row of water taps from which water flowed into basins, they were like troughs. There were never any WCs, i.e., toilets; for bodily needs there was a large rectangular hole under the open sky with a slatted fence on the sides on which one had to lean and keep balance while relieving oneself. About showers—<39> There was no talk of it, there was not even a pipe out in the open air. Then there was a barrack that bore the grandiose name of infirmary; it was furnished with a table, a chair, and a shelf intended to contain medicines, at least the most necessary ones, but it was always empty. There was no aspirin, no remedy for toothache, there were a few paper bandages, iodine, and sulfur ointment against scabies, which afflicted many workers in the summer because there was too much physical contact in the cramped space and the hygienic conditions were poor. The doctor on duty was a deportee from Perugia, who examined you when needed, but could only give advice because there were no medicines. Then there was barrack no. 9, the barrack of the dying, which from autumn on became increasingly full; there came the "incapable," those completely at the end, they were only skeletons, most of them wasted away by severe diarrhea, tuberculosis, and edema, their organs no longer functioning; they were no longer useful for the war of the great Reich and because they no longer contributed anything, they were not treated but left to die slowly, without a trace of pity. <40> Our barracks were all made of wood, with tarred roofs, on one side there was an outside door leading to a small entrance hall, there was only one window; inside stood six wooden bunk beds, each could sleep four people (two above and two below), so there were a total of 24 sleeping places. Each sleeping place had a wooden slatted frame, one lay on sacks made of synthetic jute filled with paper strips, there were pillows made of the same material, and to cover ourselves we each received a military blanket. The floor in the barrack was wooden, the walls were simple, not double, so one can imagine how icy it was in winter when the cold came through the cracks. As for the furnishings: a rectangular table, two small cabinets, no chairs, a round stove that could only be heated occasionally. During my deportation, I had to move three times to another barrack: the first was no. 6, the second no. 15, the third no. 27a. My brother was always with me, in the same barrack. At the beginning, we had the possibility to live together with people from the same place or other acquaintances; so in our barrack there were twenty from our village and also two <41> from Tolentino and two from Sanseverino, in the province of Macerata; after a few months, more than half of the men from my village—perhaps because the workplace changed—were transferred to other camps that also belonged to Reimahg. From December 1944, my brother and I were together with soldiers, I.M.I.2, in barrack 27a until April 1945. As I have already mentioned, from the end of June I was in construction camp 1 at Walpersberg and from then on there was a regulation of work and rest times. During the first months, a work shift lasted 10 hours a day, but from September 1944 it became 12 hours a day or 12 hours at night, with a break that at first lasted one hour, then only 45 minutes; once a month one had a shift off. They gave us a pair of wooden clogs; these shoes were the only clothing items we received and they were the identifying mark for us slaves; because every German could recognize us by these wooden shoes and therefore we could go nowhere, we were immediately stopped. <42> And from the beginning of July 1944, we began to understand how much work there was and how hard it would be; a mass of deportees from all over Europe was forced to obey unconditionally when orders were given to them in a language incomprehensible to us, never in another. The kapos, the foremen gave their orders in German and one had to understand them immediately, otherwise there were beatings with sticks; this was of course difficult, especially at the beginning. The most common insults were: Badoglio, pigs, traitors, shit, macaroni, gypsies, cat makers, cursed Italians! In July I worked near Walpersberg, on the western slope; we had the task of digging the ground so that roads could be built. One morning in that July a terrible thunderstorm arose, we were outdoors and had no possibility to take shelter and at first the foreman did not want us to stop working, but at some point we were so soaked and covered in mud that he Istituto Militare Italiano brought us back to the barrack in the camp. In the afternoon he wanted us to return to work, we came to the roll call in our underwear because our few clothes were still completely wet from the rain and then they let us go back to the barrack; but that was not only a rare case, but unique, because afterwards we had to work in all weather, in summer in the scorching heat without being able to drink water, in autumn and especially in winter in rain and snow and in terrible cold that made the whole body ache, with hands and feet cracked from frost. End of translation Brünning] pp. 43-44 July 10: Speech by Sauckel to 6-7000 workers. Afterwards, a fight over soup. "July 10, 1944: The notorious Gauleiter Fritz Sauckel had us gather near the tunnels on the east side of Walpersberg; we were many, perhaps 6-7000 people. From a small hill, he began a very pathetic speech, which went roughly as follows: 'Dear workers, you are here to work for great Germany and to contribute to the final victory, which we will surely achieve, also with the help of new weapons. I understand your homesickness and your longing for your family, because I too was a prisoner of war in the First World War. I ask you to work diligently and willingly, etc.' At the end of the speech, large cauldrons with vegetable soup and potatoes were brought (I no longer remember how many). We all had our bowls for the midday meal, which we still received at that time. It was chaos, only a few dozen people got their soup, because at some point it became impossible to distribute it; a huge crowd began to push to get to the soup, those who were supposed to distribute it fled, and the advancing crowd overturned the cauldrons and was covered from head to toe with soup, some stuck their heads into the cauldrons to lick them." pp. 45-48 B.B. works with brother Giuseppe; cousin Walter has to do track work. He had met the Hubl family from Kahla, for whom he did small jobs in exchange for food. Later B.B. secretly visits them. Very good relationship.[Translation Berit Brünning <44> July 19, 1944 - I wrote to my war sponsor in Turin - I wrote to my family in the Marche region, but have little hope that news from us will reach them July 20, 1944, early afternoon hours; the news of the assassination attempt on Hitler spreads; for a few minutes it seemed as if the world stood still; the overseers and foremen were silent, as if waiting for an <45> extraordinary event… Something very sad happened: When we learned about the assassination attempt on Hitler while working with hoes and spades on the slopes of the Walpersberg, we spread the news by each telling the comrade working near him; my friend Getullio Bonapasta from Matelica was just whispering the news into a comrade’s ear when the German foreman overheard the conversation, took a large stick and struck this poor man several times hard on the back, breaking a few vertebrae and causing permanent damage; he is still alive and can barely walk. They still urge us to join the new fascist military organizations or the Italian SS; only very few join. Although my brother Giuseppe is housed in the same barrack as I am, he does not always work with me; the same happened with my cousin Walter, who has been assigned for over a month to transport rails for the railway lines; a terribly hard job that breaks you because he has to carry a terribly heavy piece of rail on his shoulder all day long together with another person, <46> bring it to its destination and lay it down, then lift the next one, carry it and lay it down, and so on. He was completely exhausted and emaciated, the poor guy. So he said to me: I met a German family in Kahla who are very kind, they gave me bread or other food in exchange for a few small jobs I wanted to do for them (sorting and shelving goods and the like); I can no longer go to Kahla because I don’t feel well; you go to this kind-hearted woman. Her name is Margarethe and she owns the shop at Rossstraße 8.” At the next opportunity, I went to this shop, waited for a moment when no one was there and told the kind woman Margarethe that I was Walter’s cousin and had come in his place because he was not feeling well; she was very sorry. I asked if there was anything to do, loaded some goods and then she gave me bread and other food for me, my cousin and my brother. Now someone might say: How was it possible to go into town without permission? If you were careful, you could do it; one must consider that in the surroundings of Kahla in the various camps there were thousands of foreign workers, almost all working for Reimahg, but there were also people working for private individuals, so…: if you left the camp unnoticed (in our camp there were no watchtowers and no electric fence), ran down a small path that led from the hill to the entrance of Kahla and stayed close to the walls so no one would see you, you could arrive at the shop of the Hubl family, which was located at the entrance to the historic center. Of course, you had to be lucky and a little skillful because any villager, even a teenager, could stop you; the boys would even call the police. Of course, we stood out, we wore torn clothes and wooden shoes on our feet, but if you tried to tidy yourself up a bit, wash as well as possible, you could make a somewhat better impression. Also, you were not allowed – as some did – to knock on doors and say: I am hungry, bread… because most people would then slam the door in your face and insult you, but you could approach people without complaining and ask if there was any work. So you did not have to beg for alms, but for <48> work. So, towards the end of July, when I had just turned into Rossstraße, I saw a young red-haired woman carrying wood; I asked if I could help her. She invited me into the yard and showed me a pile of wood that I should chop; after a few hours I had finished this work, she was happy and invited me to have lunch at her home, then she gave me a loaf of bread. Later I also met her husband, he was a radio technician and had a small workshop. End of translation Brünning] p. 48 - 52 August 1944: Extermination through labor. Shifts of 12 hours with 45 minutes break. Getting up at 4, about 1 hour for washing and tidying up. Only linden tea. Only those with more than 39 degrees fever were allowed to stay behind. March to the construction sites. Construction companies select the slaves for the respective day. Work from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. Hierarchy of camp management Washing facilities poor, scabies Italian SS eat well, well dressed, yet hardly anyone volunteers."August 1944: Extermination through Labor The speech by Sauckel, which he gave on July 10, turned out to be a big lie, because a few days later he dictated the following order: One must produce as much as possible, with as little effort for us as possible. – Dig, dig, and if the machines break down, dig with your hands. The shifts began to be 12 hours, night and day, the rest break at half the shift shrank from one hour to 45 minutes. The daily routine was as follows: We were woken at 4 a.m. by the overseers with shepherd dogs. They turned on the lights in the barracks and shouted "Get up, come on, come on, quick!" and beat those who did not immediately jump from their bunks on arms and legs; they had large clubs or rubber hoses. We had little more than an hour to wash and to go to the toilet and to clean the barracks, because it had to be in order and clean. Meanwhile, for those who wanted, there was a container with linden tea outside the barracks. It was disgusting. Then came the roll call and counting; if someone was missing, they immediately went to look for him. One was only allowed to stay in the barracks and not work if one had more than 39° fever. Those who did not work did not produce and of course only received half the food ration. Then we were lined up in rows and marched to the construction sites. There was the slave market. The representatives of the various companies that had received contracts from the "Reimahg" selected from the heap of slaves those they needed for the day and took them. Work began at 7 a.m. or at 7 p.m. for the night shift. At the beginning of the shift we had to give our ID to the foreman, which we got back at the end of the shift together with the food coupon. If one did not work, or forgot to take the food coupon, one had to go hungry the next day. The column leaders accompanied us from the camp to work; during work we were controlled and also tormented without reason, by everyone; besides the foreman there were the SS, the gendarmes, the brownshirts, the Hitler Youth, the Gestapo, etc. Then there were the "Polileiter" (?), who controlled both the foremen and us at work. After 12 hours it was back to the camp, always in rows and accompanied by the work column leaders; this could be, depending on where the construction site was located, also more than 6-7 km away. Shortly thereafter, the distribution of the food ration took place. The command hierarchy in the camp was as follows: [cf. p. 50 and fig. 12] We are still in the month of August 1944; until the middle of the month I worked in the underground tunnels, then on the Walpersberg, for the runway. It is hot, there are few opportunities to wash. We have a long water pipe, outdoors, with some taps, but there is little water. Infectious diseases begin, related to the lack of hygiene. Shaving is also difficult, there are no razor blades, only those who have a razor are on the safe side. I am lucky because my brother is a barber and brought his razors, he can cut my hair and beard when necessary, but he shaves me not only there, but also in the pubic area and armpits, as a small scabies epidemic breaks out. One from our village, Nicola Micheli, returned to the camp after spending more than two months in the penal company. He is in a pitiful condition, thin, ragged, starved, arms and legs full of injuries caused by the bites of the shepherd dogs. That he survived is a miracle, because from this hell one does not return alive, or one goes insane. The volunteers who signed up for the SS or the new fascist army are housed in another barrack, separated from us by a metal fence. They present themselves proudly and show off with nice leather boots, a nice uniform, well shaven and clean; they let us watch when they have good food and enough cigarettes. All this was of course organized by the Nazis as propaganda to make us want it. Not many had volunteered, in our camp there were maybe 15." Mid-August: Arrival of Italian prisoners of war from the Rhineland – indication of the approach of the Allies. pp. 52 - 55 Hubl family: loving description, B.B. received a lot of help. Visits them in 1979. B.B. also works for a saddler (his actual profession), sewing handbags. pp. 56 - 58 Giuseppe disappears for a day at the police, mistreatment due to alleged theft of a turnip. Punishment work, bites by shepherd dogs. pp. 58 - 60 September 1944: Hunger, lice. Work on the runway, felling trees by hand. Among the workers also women from the Ukraine. Assembly ban, no leisure time, no priest. [Translation Berit Brünning <52> Around mid-August, I.M.I.s, interned Italian soldiers, arrive in our camp, coming from a main camp in the Rhineland, which was dissolved because the Allies are approaching. There are a few changes; several men from our village are transferred from our barrack to camps 6 and 7, in their place I.M.I.s from Tuscany, Lombardy and Emilia come to us, but my brother and my cousin stay with me. In Kahla, where I go occasionally, I manage to explain to Mrs. Margarethe that we did not come voluntarily to work in Germany because people are starving at home (as the Nazis propaganda said), but that in Italy there is a job and a family who in our case <53> is very worried about their two sons because they cannot receive any news from us. She understands this, also because her husband Alfred was taken prisoner in France and her son Lothar is at the front. She says she is happy to help us and hopes that some charitable soul will help her husband in captivity and her son, who is a soldier. The members of this family were: Alfred Hubl, head of the family (in French captivity)Margarethe Hubl, née Weise, wife, approximately 44 years old Lothar Hubl, son, soldier with the tank drivers, 19 years old Hilmar Hubl, son, student, approximately 13 years old Heide Hubl, daughter, 6 years old Anna (???), mother of Mrs. Margarethe, approximately 75 years old Despite the police prohibition, this woman, her son Hilmar, and Mrs. Anna helped me, gave me food, comforted me, and not only me but also Poggi Mario from Gubbio, another Italian, my cousin Walter, and many others, out of pure humanity. When I returned to Kahla in 1979 to see this family again (my daughter Beatrice accompanied me), I was very warmly received by the whole family, including Mr. Alfred. We lived in their house for 5 days. Unfortunately, the son Lothar, a dentist, had died in 1969, and Mrs. Anna had died shortly after the end of the war. During this visit to Kahla, I found in the Hubl family’s house a letter of thanks that the family of Poggi Mario had sent to Mrs. Margarethe at that time, and a card that my cousin Walter had written in 1945 to express his gratitude; I am attaching a photocopy. This is mentioned to make clear how generous this family was. At the end of Rossstraße, just before the marketplace, there was a small shop on the right where pork, bacon, and sausages were sold; the owner was a white-haired, old lady who was very kind-hearted and charitable. One day I entered the shop, made sure there were no customers, and asked if she needed help, if there was any work to be done; this dear woman gave me a few pieces of salami and said I should come by from time to time. One day I also helped her husband transport wood from the train station to their home with a cart. They invited me to lunch; they wanted to know, Caption: My daughter Beatrice, me, Mrs. Margarethe. We met again in 1979 after 34 years. how I had come to Kahla and were surprised when they heard that I had not come voluntarily but under duress. They asked if I knew anything about the course of the war in Italy; they had a son who was fighting at the front in Cassino. From that day on, this friendly woman gave me a few pieces of bacon, sausage, or something else every time I passed by. I will always remember her with gratitude. When Mrs. Margarethe heard what profession I had practiced in Italy (I had made leather goods in Varese), she contacted a saddler in Kahla for me; he had a workshop on Margarethenstraße, near the “Saaltur,” where he made saddles, harnesses, and other leather goods. As agreed, I went there one morning (I had worked during the night) and brought drawings of various types of ladies’ handbags that I had made on postcards in the barracks to show that I also designed models myself. He showed me a doctor’s bag and made me understand that I should study its shape and make one exactly like it. He gave me leather, tools, and whatever else was needed. I set to work and cut leather all afternoon and made the model he had asked for. During the lunch break, this gentleman invited me to his home for a meal. He liked my work very much; he said “Bravo, excellent” and that I should come back. On another day, I made a bag for a woman who lived in a house on the marketplace. She gave me a loaf of bread. I would have very much liked to work for this saddler; I asked him to inquire at the “Labor Front,” then I would have gotten out of the camp and become his worker. That did not happen, and I no longer went to him because it was impossible for me to work 12 hours at night on the Reimahg construction sites and during the day in this workshop. The month of August was drawing to a close; one morning, when I came back from work, I could no longer find my brother Giuseppe. I asked everywhere about him and then learned from workmates that he had been taken to the police. Although I asked everywhere, I could not find out exactly where he was or why he was being held by the police. I did not know what to do, but I could not help him in any way. He returned to the barracks the next evening and looked very bad; his nose was injured and still bleeding. The following had happened: When my brother Giuseppe was on his way back from work passing various construction sites, he saw a large turnip among the waste of a German kitchen, picked it up, and put it under his jacket. A supervisor had seen him and took him away, handing him over to the SS so they could punish him as a thief. Consider that the people in the kitchen had thrown the turnip away because it was rotten. But these sadists of the SS, into whose hands he had fallen, accepted no justification. My brother had to dig large holes together with four others and then fill them in again, then dig a new hole, and so on endlessly, without being allowed to raise their heads, and all this only for the amusement of the SS guards, who depending on their mood were also capable of making someone work all day and only giving them food and drink when they felt like it. They also let the wolfhounds off the chain and set them on these poor fellows who could not defend themselves against them. My brother, with a dog behind him trying to bite him, turned around; then the SS man hit him in the face with a riding whip and injured his nose. Fortunately, among the SS men there were also some who had pity, and so after almost two days I was able to see my brother again.<58> embrace. September 1944 – The usual sad existence; we feel the hunger more and more, we are very weak and yet it is only autumn. More and more people are getting sick and there are more and more lice; we have to constantly check ourselves to kill these pests that suck out the little blood we still have left. I worry about my dear cousin Walter, who is doing much worse than I am. I have to help him wherever I can and also my brother, who cannot defend himself, he gives up quickly. On my forays to Kahla, I always try to get some food for both of them. With a few others from the barracks, I even went out at night to steal potatoes in the neighborhood, risking being shot at; but the hunger grows stronger, so we have to take some risks. Since the end of August, I have been working on the Walpersberg, where the runway is being built. There are many workers there, maybe 1000. First, we had to fell trees (birches?), and we are still busy with that, having to do everything by hand, without chainsaws or <59> other mechanical aids. A few groups are assigned to felling the trees, they are cut down at the base by two people; other workers strip the felled trees and remove the branches, others saw the trunks into about two-meter-long pieces. There is a constant coming and going of people from all over Europe; there are also pitiable Ukrainian women who have to do the same work as we do; they were deported along with their entire families. Up on the hill it is cold, especially the women freeze; we make a few small fires with branches and leaves so they can warm up; an SS sergeant who supervises us comes and shoots his pistol into the fire, then stomps it out and shouts "Sabotage," and this ritual repeats itself from time to time. Meanwhile, thousands of other forced laborers are building connecting roads to the surrounding villages (these are proper roads with a thick layer of gravel or crushed stone as bedding), others work in the tunnels to widen the old galleries and create new ones; standard gauge and narrow gauge rails are being laid. The work goes on without interruption, no one has pity on those who die or get sick at work or in the barracks. <60> Even though the records and testimonies of the officers in our "Oflags"3 about the time of captivity tell a different story, we had no free time and no opportunity to gather, there were no writers, poets or artists to brighten our days and entertain us. There were no priests, not even camp preachers, who could provide spiritual comfort to those who died of hunger and exhaustion and were then thrown into mass graves without a cross or a gravestone. End of translation Brünning] P. 60 - 61 End of September: Walter in the hospital due to tuberculosis. Through the Hubl family, B.B. receives medicine and food German original; meaning unclear "End of September 1944: I came back to the barracks and missed my cousin Walter and as always I received no information about him. The next day I learned that he had been transferred to the notorious sad barracks 9. The next evening I went to him, I found him feverish on a wooden bunk among living skeletons. When he saw me, he said crying: 'Get me out of here, otherwise I will die before my time!' He had coughed up blood! I realized he had tuberculosis. I embraced him and promised to do everything I could. It was already night and I wrapped my wooden shoes with some rags, climbed over the barbed wire fence and ran towards Kahla, being careful not to be seen by anyone. I knocked on the door of our benefactor Mrs. Margarethe Weise Hubl, whom I asked for help for Walter after telling her the story. This angelic woman immediately spoke with a nearby doctor; he gave me a syrup as medicine; he could do no more, I was to keep him informed. The good Margarethe gave me white bread, honey and jam, which I brought to Walter the next day. On the same day I resolutely demanded to speak to the camp leader; he received me and I fearlessly said roughly the following: 'You Nazis have deported us to work in Germany and have proclaimed to the world that we would be treated like German workers, with all privileges; here is my cousin Walter Bolognesi, he is sick and has coughed up blood, I cannot watch him die like this, so I ask you to have mercy and send him home immediately.' The camp leader listened to me, noted down the name and sent me away without saying anything. The next day my cousin was no longer in barracks 9. For several months I lived in the hope that he had returned home. [...] [On May 27 they receive a card from Walter, who is with a family in Schöngleina; he is comparatively well. He manages to return to Italy but dies there of tuberculosis.] P. 62 - 64 Oct. 2, 1944: B.B.'s 23rd birthday. Celebrates at the Hubl family. News in the camp: washing barracks, which also serves as a place to lay out the dead. Latrine with wooden enclosure Work on the runway: about 1000 workers. Felling trees, leveling area up to 1 km. [Translation Berit Brünning <62> October 2, 1944. Today is my 23rd birthday. I went, as I sometimes do, to Kahla, to the Hubl family; Mrs. Margarethe, who knew it was my birthday, gave me a bag of homemade cookies. I took them to eat with my brother; on the way back to the camp – I had just left the town of Kahla – a German stopped me and asked what I had in my paper bag; I showed him the cookies; he asked who had given them to me or where I had gotten them, I answered that someone had given them to me; he wanted me to name the person and when I refused, he said I had stolen them and that he would call the police. I protested, he threatened me and forced me to give him the cookies and then walked away calmly. From then on, when Mrs. Hubl gave me something for my brother or for both of us, she always sent Miss Elisabetta, a young saleswoman, to accompany me part of the way. There is news in our camp; a washing barracks is being built, it is made of wood, inside there are a row of taps (from which only cold water comes) and<63> including a long wooden trough, which is supposed to be used for washing clothes as well. Under the same roof, a little apart, stood a wooden table used to lay the dead on at night before they are thrown into the mass grave. There is more news: They have built a roof of wood and sheet metal over the spot (the pit) that served as an open-air toilet; now at least we could relieve ourselves without getting wet when it rained. They still urge us to join the associations; hunger and exhaustion are noticeable, and we have to do a lot of convincing, especially to prevent the youngest among us from being blackmailed. Work on the runway at Walpersberg is progressing feverishly; perhaps 1000 people have been assigned to this task, and by now we have already made some progress: All the trees have been felled and the stumps removed; now we have started to remove the summit of the hill, the terrain had to be widened and leveled at a certain predetermined height. All this was done by hand; there were no excavators or similar equipment; we only had our arms. On the long sides of the hill, narrow-gauge tracks (so-called decauvilles) had been laid, <64> protruding into empty space and supported by stakes anchored in the terrain below. The removed earth was loaded onto small tipping wagons, which were then pushed by two people to the end of the track; then a wooden block was used to brake the wheels to prevent falling off and dropping the wagon, the contents were tipped out, and the wagon was loaded again. That was a lot of work; the hill became lower and the track proportionally longer until it reached the planned length of 1000 meters. Sometimes we sabotaged this work; when the fully loaded wagon on the downhill track gained speed, we jumped off without braking, and the wagon fell with its contents, causing delays because it had to be hauled back up. A few times we also let a small diesel locomotive crash down, which, when going straight, pushed the wagons to the edge where we were supposed to stop it; we did not, and then the locomotive also fell. The overseers shouted: Sabotage, sabotage! Caption: One had to push to the end of the rails, which protruded into empty space, and brake with a block; if one managed to stop, the contents, the earth, had to be tipped out. End of translation Brünning] pp. 65 - 66 October 10: Visit of Reichsmarschall Göring. Distributes 1 pack of cigarettes. “October 10, 1944: Reichsmarschall Göring pays a visit to the workers. He is followed by his entourage of military and civilians; he also inspects the future runway on foot, walks slowly past us workers, and scrutinizes us. At the end of the visit, he had a pack of cigarettes distributed. He wore a uniform and a wide light-colored coat.” Deported women from Poland Establishment of the Himmelshain hospital Formation of cemetery commandos from prisoners from the USSR. Burial in trenches. p. 66 October 20: Mail from Italy pp. 66 - 69 November 1944: Work on the fixed ramp continues, reduction of food rations, increase in cases of illness and death. Hope for the end of the war is fueled by the nervousness of the kapos and occasional overheard news. Reinforcement by volunteers (?) from the HJ for 14 days. Cold, no adequate clothing, use of stoves in the barracks forbidden – fire hazard. Lice, rats. [Translation Berit Brünning <65> October 10, 1944: Reichsmarschall Goering pays us a visit at work; a motley group of people in military and civilian clothes accompanies him. He also walks the future runway, slowly passing among us and observing how the work progresses. At the end of his visit, he had a pack of cigarettes distributed among us. He was in uniform and wore a light coat. During this month, the following things happened: - Young women deported from Poland arrived - The hospital in Himmelshain was established because more and more accidents happened at work and more workers of the Reimahg became ill. It was set up near the castle, somewhere nearby, I believe in the park; it consisted of barracks and also tents, I think. I do not know how many deportees were treated there and how; perhaps there was also a surgical department. The district leaders Kohler and Schau assigned about 50 men and women deported from the USSR to the “cemetery commando.” These people had the task of digging pits, collecting the dead, throwing them into these pits, covering them with lime and then with earth (see Teghillo’s letter). <66> It rains more often now and it is cold; they give us other blankets. On October 20, I received a long letter from my war sponsor Teresa, who confesses her love to me but at the same time regrets that it is now too late; I am with a dear girl from my village, her name is Bianca, a few years later I will marry her. The letter was sent on September 15 from Turin and it was the first letter from Italy that I received. November 1944 – The work on the runway must proceed at all costs, despite rain and wind; we are completely wet and muddy while working under the watchful eye of the foreman, who stands under a protective roof and is protected by his waterproof soldier’s coat; he is angry because he is forced to stay outside in this bad weather and takes out his anger on us “damned Italians.” After flattening the hill to extend the runway, we have to stabilize the ground; we level it with rollers and prepare it for asphalting, which is to take place in December. They reduce our daily food ration proportionally<67> Meanwhile, the number of sick and dead is rising. The German chiefs have succeeded in making us lose our individuality, and one must make a great effort to always keep a clear head and not lose hope that all this will soon come to an end. The signs were not good; our kapos, our political guards, who knew that the war was going against them and saw how we stubbornly refused to collaborate with them, constantly told us: "No matter what happens, you will not return to Italy," and cursed us. In those months, I tried to understand the meaning of the words, to make this language, so difficult for us, my own; so I learned more than the usual three or four words that we all knew because they were necessary: "bread, hunger, sick, go, fast, slow," etc. My knowledge, as meager as it was, was useful to eavesdrop on conversations, understand the Germans' remarks, and read a few sentences in their newspapers; all this without anyone noticing. This month, for about two weeks, boys from the Hitler Youth come to help build the runway – were they obliged to do so? They don't care how we are; they insult us because we work slowly; they <68> have good clothes, shoes, hats, and above all good, warm food in abundance, which they eat during the break in front of us poor starving people, without paying attention to us. It is getting colder and it has already snowed; our few pieces of clothing are torn, and we patch them with every material we can get our hands on, shoelaces, twine, or wire. We begin to use the paper from the cement sacks to tuck under our clothes or wrap our feet in it. The soldiers (I.M.I.) who are housed with us in the barracks are still required to do more than us because they have been prisoners since last year, but they are a little better off than us because they have a uniform made of good fabric, even if it is ragged, and they also have a few personal clothing items with them, while we were deported in May and only wear light summer clothes, which are now in tatters. As already mentioned, there was a small, round stove in the barracks, for which we never received fuel; it was even forbidden to light it in the evening because, they said, we could signal the planes with the sparks (who knows what kind). However, we found pieces of wood at work that we <69> collected and took with us, so we could heat the stove in the evening despite the ban, to dry our wet clothes a little and to roast a potato or turnip cut into thin slices; we held them against the stove walls and took them off when they were completely brown, or we cooked very strange soups into which we put everything that was somehow edible. And besides, the stove was not only to warm the room a little; we could also kill the lice this way; we boiled our clothes in a tin container, and the lice died this way; the problem was only the layers; it was terrible that the next morning we had to put on clothes that were mostly still wet. Oh, those lice, those unwanted tenants that were so hard to get rid of! There were at least six different types; we had cataloged them: there were transparent ones with a small blood blister in the middle, striped ones, those with a cross on the back, diamond-shaped, elongated, etc. Then there were also a few mice wandering around the barracks; they were as starved as we were and looking for food. As I already mentioned, we often had to turn off the stove again immediately. End of translation Brünning] pp. 70 - 72 December 1944: 12 hours of work outdoors, prisoners suffer from cold, tuberculosis, diarrhea, heart failure, edema, typhus, etc. The foremen, mostly from the Rhineland, are war-weary and encourage the workers to persevere. Asphalting of the runway. Work accidents: a Belgian worker gets his legs caught in a machine; to prevent damage to the machine, his legs are sawed off. "There were daily work accidents, but on the night of December 24th, one occurred that stayed in our memory. During the night shift, a Belgian worker assigned to tar the runway got his legs caught in a concrete mixer (? a machine anyway). The work supervisor Rehring of the company 'Ando..' [not legible, because at the end of the line; should be checked again] immediately feared the machine had been damaged by the accident; then the poor man's legs were sawed off with a saw and a carpenter's axe. Horrible! The poor Belgian died a few hours later." pp. 73 - 74 Christmas 1944: 20 cm of snow, -20°C. Special ration for 2 days: 7 boiled potatoes, 2 wheat rolls, 2 sausages, butter, and jam. Day of rest. B.B. and his barrack comrades cut down a small fir tree and decorate it with tinfoil and photos of their loved ones. "Christmas 1944: I remember that day very well; it was very bright and the sky clear, almost like in Italy, about 20 cm of snow and -20°. Day of rest and a meal consisting of a lunch package: 7 boiled potatoes, 2 wheat rolls, 2 sausages, butter, and jam, besides the usual thin soup. We ate everything greedily because we did not know that all this had to last for the next day as well. We cut down a small fir tree, placed it on the table in the barracks, and decorated it with tinfoil. Each of us hung a postcard or a photo of our loved ones on it; for us, it had become the most beautiful tree in the world, and that day touched us all very deeply. We thought of our families and we were homesick. I thought of the many Christmas celebrations I had spent with my parents, 1938, 1939, 1940 in Varese, where I had come at barely 17 years old to work, then 1941, 1942 I was in the army, 1943 I was finally home, but I was always afraid because I was an ex-soldier and without prospects. And now, this Christmas with this pain in my heart, because I could imagine how much our parents worried about both of us sons. Would we embrace them again? Would we spend the coming Christmas at home? Anyway, that day passed pleasantly with all the memories and hopes that each one told; besides, I was with my brother, and that was already a great stroke of luck." pp. 74 - 75 Afterwards, B.B. and his brother work on bunker 0. The number of deaths grows, no burials. Memories of the faith of Pasquale Caron, who dies in the camp.[Translation Berit Brünning <74> From the last decade of the month on, my brother and I were assigned to the construction of bunker O. More and more people are dying, sometimes even at work. We can do nothing for them, even if someone suddenly collapses at work, you cannot help them, and for those who die in the barracks, there is no funeral like in the camps for prisoners of war, there is also no church service. But now despair is spreading everywhere; in the evenings in the barracks there are discussions, forecasts are announced, which are almost always pessimistic, and then there is fierce cursing and swearing, because it really looks as if God has abandoned us. In this situation, a friendly, kind figure appeared, whom I like to remember; among the I.M.I.s who were with me in the barracks, there was a man from Venetia, not particularly tall, as emaciated as most of us <75> and in the evenings, while almost everyone was uttering curses and imprecations, he took a rosary out of his pocket and began to pray. He said to me: "We must keep our hope alive, right? What do you say to that, Bolognesi? We must not curse, but put ourselves under God's protection, so that He helps us to get back home!" And he showed us a photo of his family (he had a wife and small children), said to me: "Who knows if I will see them again soon?" and kissed the photo. And exactly this righteous man, who gave us hope again and who longed so much for home, died on April 3, 1945, a week before the arrival of the Allied troops. One morning when we got up, we found him dead on his cot. Even today I ask myself: Is God just? His name was Pasquale Caron. End translation Berit Brünning] p. 75 - 76 January 5, 1945: Package with food arrives by mail from relatives in Varese. Mail only comes from the north, which is not yet occupied by the Allies. "January 1945: On the 5th, my brother and I received a package with food from our relatives in Varese. For us, this was a great event, because besides the pleasure of eating something good, it was something unexpected, since for us from central Italy, it was impossible to send news and packages to our families or to receive any, because we were cut off from our families living in Allied-occupied areas by the course of the German-Allied front. The deportees, on the other hand, whose families lived in the north, received, although rarely, mail and occasionally a package from their relatives; therefore, this was a great event for us. On January 9, my brother wrote a postcard in both our names to the relatives in Varese, in which we thanked them. On the 10th, I sent a card to my uncle Pietro Giordani, who lives in Stuttgart." p. 76 - 81 Bunker 0: precise description of the construction method with masses of cement. Icy cold, B.B.'s brother is close to collapse. B.B. asks the camp administration for another job for him; he works as a barber for a few days in the command barracks and is then assigned to masonry work near Bibra. After work, the only meal of the day is a thin vegetable soup with few potatoes and hardly any margarine. Queueing with the bowl, the soup is distributed with a ladle from the kitchen barracks, those who complain are beaten. Also two slices of salami or blood sausage or jam, plus 1 packet of margarine (made from petroleum) for eight per week. Careful distribution with a self-made scale. Bread consists half of sawdust, mostly moldy. Hunger, hopelessness. During rare visits to Kahle, B.B. always receives food from Mrs. Margarethe. "After the hard work, the only meal of the day awaited us in the camp in the evening: about three quarters dirty water, in which pieces of turnips float, a few cabbage leaves, red fodder beet and only very rarely a piece of potato and very little margarine. The food distribution in the camp proceeded as follows: We stood in a line, holding our bowl in our hand. On the right side of the kitchen barracks, one climbed onto a wooden platform and went individually past a window, from which the distributor, who stood in the kitchen, leaned out and poured the broth into your bowl; you had to be quick and were not allowed to complain, beside our line there was always an SS man named Gustav, who was very angry and who set his shepherd dog on you. At the end of the line was an old German who held a club in his hand and mercilessly beat you if you did not hurry. The daily ration also contained two slices of sausage, blood sausage or some jam, and once a week a piece of margarine, which had to be divided into eight parts. It was synthetic margarine, made from petroleum. Then there was this undefinable stuff they called bread: a block-shaped bread, had to be divided into eight rations; this operation was carefully watched by all of us. One of us cut the bread into eight parts, then we had a self-made scale (cf. sketch on p. 79) made from a stick, at both ends of which two small pointed wooden wedges were attached with some string. Each slice was compared with the others and we tried to balance the rations with the crumbs. Then it was counted who could choose the piece he considered the largest first, and then the others in turn. We ate only part of this bread and saved the second piece for the next morning, because until the evening after that we got nothing to eat. The bread, if you could call it that at all, consisted of about 50 or 60% poplar sawdust, then some rye flour and other, undefinable flours. It was almost always moldy at the edges, which made the division difficult." p. 81 - 87 February 1945: The Allies are coming, but when? From January 20: B.B. works at a construction site in Bibra; accommodations for personnel of the Luftwaffe or the Reimahg. When laying bricks, the cement freezes, so the wall collapses again, but work continues anyway. Painful injuries to the hands. Sympathy for a German foreman who considers Esperanto the solution for international understanding. He lets the prisoners work slowly and occasionally make a fire to warm their hands. Work until February 15. Diarrhea, bleeding gums due to vitamin deficiency and edema. Daily rations have max. 500 calories instead of the required 2500-3000 per day.Work in the mine: Existing tunnels are used and expanded by the prisoners; floors, plastering, electricity, ventilation, etc. are done by specialists. To expand the tunnels, holes for explosives are drilled with the pneumatic drill, the blasted material is loaded with shovels onto wagons on rails and transported away by four people. No safety precautions. At the end of February, the first airplane (M262) takes off from Walpersberg; however, the war is already lost. HUNGER, COLD, DISEASE, DEATH, yet the prisoners’ resistance consists in not giving in. pp. 87 - 89 March 1945: The Allies are advancing. B.B. working on expanding the tunnels. News from relatives and from Walter, who had found shelter with a family in Schonkleina (sic). Although he returns to IT, he soon dies of tuberculosis, which he contracted in Kahla. Exodus of the inhabitants of Thuringia to the areas controlled by the Allies, bombings. [Translation Berit Brünning <81> February 1945 – It is known that the Allies are in the process of taking over West Germany; but why aren’t they moving faster? When will they be here?! Since January 20, I have been working at a construction site near Bibra. In the mornings, I walk together with ten other comrades to this <82> place near Bibra; there, accommodations are being built for personnel of the Luftwaffe or the Reimahg, I don’t remember exactly. We have to build the outer walls of these one-story houses. For this, we use bricks; the mortar we need is mixed by hand, there is no mixing machine. The masons (I don’t know if they are Germans or not) quickly lay one stone over the other, but it is very cold and the mortar freezes, so the wall keeps collapsing when it reaches one or one and a half meters high. But we have orders to continue, so we start again from the beginning. I had to mix the mortar and, when a certain amount was ready, bring it together with another person on a kind of stretcher to the mason. When we had to transport the bricks, it was very painful because we had to stand with legs apart and wait for someone to throw the bricks to us one by one; we had to catch them and throw them to the next person; so we passed them hand to hand, but the problem was that our hands were completely stiff from the cold and we injured ourselves on the bricks, which was very painful. The only positive thing was a German foreman; a small, older man with a slight hunchback, whom we jokingly called Rigoletto <83> ; he was very decent, he always talked about Esperanto, which in his opinion was the language of the future because all peoples could communicate and there would be no more wars. A great little man, he always said to us: “Work slowly, but if you see a supervisor coming, he must see you working, otherwise I will get into trouble too.” It was very cold and two Ukrainian women worked with us, doing the same work as we did; he let us take breaks now and then, then we had to chop large wooden boards, like those used by carpenters, and light a nice fire to warm ourselves, especially our stiff frozen hands. This work lasted until February 15. More and more people are dying, it is frightening; most of them are Italians. Almost all of us suffer from diarrhea; at night some people don’t make it in time …4 and everything comes out while they are still in the barracks. Due to vitamin deficiency, many suffer from bleeding gums and have edema on their bodies. The charts posted by those in charge stated that our daily rations were quite acceptable, but we later learned that they contained no more than 800 calories, while for the heavy work we did, we needed at least <84> 2500-3000 calories per day. - Work in the tunnel – As is known, Reimahg took over the already existing tunnel passages, which had previously been used by the porcelain factory in Kahla to extract quartz-containing earth needed for their work. These tunnels now had to be widened and improved so that parts of the new airplanes could be manufactured and assembled inside. Our task was to dig in the old tunnels to widen them. In addition to the already existing tunnels, new ones had to be dug and connected simultaneously. We only made the tunnels wider; the fine work, plastering, securing the floor, laying electrical and water pipes, and ventilation were done by specialized personnel, not forced laborers, because the interior of the tunnels was secret. In our case, one or two men hollowed out the tunnel walls, then drilled deep holes with a pneumatic hammer, filled the holes with explosives, and detonated them. We loaded the resulting rubble with shovels onto narrow-gauge wagons and pushed the wagons on rails <85> outside, where the rubble was unloaded by a group of workers who spread it around the area5; we loaded new rubble again and so it went on continuously. One had to be careful when the explosives were detonated because the foremen did not warn anyone, but when we saw them run away, we pressed ourselves against the walls because we were afraid of being buried under rubble in case of a collapse. One here a white spot obscures one or two words; presumably “to the latrine” some words are poorly legible, so the meaning of the sentence is not entirely certain day there was another incident in one of these countless tunnels, which testified to human cruelty; as I have already mentioned, we all suffered from intestinal colic and therefore had diarrhea, and when one suddenly felt such a need, there was no other way, one had to find a place to relieve oneself: one of our comrades from Tolentino ran away into a remote passage of another tunnel; by chance, Hitler Youth were passing there, they found him in this position and despite the poor fellow’s pleading, they forced him to “taste” what he had done and laughed at him.<85-86> I believe the first plane flew from Walpersberg towards the end of February; it was a sunny day, I remember that well; one heard a loud whistling and we, who were down outside the tunnels, saw the new jet plane ME 262 take off from the summit and quickly ascend; it flew towards the Saale valley, then we could no longer see it. The Germans were drunk with euphoria and rightly so, because this plane was far superior to all other planes that existed at the time. The only problem was that by then it was too late, the war was lost for the Reich. Nevertheless, I believe that until the end of the war there were at least 300 of these planes, which inflicted heavy losses on the Allied air forces. This type of plane was also produced in other underground factories. For us, it was the usual: COLD, HUNGER, MISERY, DISEASES, DEATH!, but we remain steadfast and it is strange that young people, who grew up under the fascist regime and are used to obedience, who know no political culture except the antifascism taught to us by our fathers – it is strange that we almost all simultaneously understood that the dictatorship had to be fought, also with the weapon of refusal, and that we all said “NO” to the flattery, to the possibility of returning safely and soundly to Italy, and knew exactly that this refusal might cost us our lives, as it did many of our comrades, whom we will never forget. That was the first democratic vote, it was our way, <87> of resisting and it was no less useful than the “great” resistance, but it was not recognized by the …6 governments that followed one another in our country. It was a popular vote, one told the other; without having any contact with each other, the I.M.I.s deported to northern Germany or Poland said “NO,” just like the I.M.I.s and the civilian forced laborers in the rest of Germany. So when we had made our choice, our living conditions worsened and the mistreatment became worse, our motto to survive was: to try to conserve our weak strength and strictly ration our meager daily portions …7. March 1945 – Good news: The Nazi troops are being caught in a pincer movement by the Allied forces from the west and the Russian troops from the east. My work still consists of transporting rubble out of the tunnels; spring is beginning to make itself felt, there are already a few days without rain and when I push the cart on these days, I feel like singing to myself. A supervisor hears me and says to me: “What are you singing, don’t you know things are going badly at the front?” I answered: “They have been going badly for quite some time!” As punishment, I had to push the full wagon <88> alone until evening. A few tufts of grass come out of the earth in the fields, we quickly pull them out with the roots; if it is chicory, we eat it raw, other plants we cook and then eat to fill our stomachs a little. We worry because we lack “manhood,” for some time we feel nothing there anymore, which is also due to our weakness; there are rumors that the Germans deliberately put certain substances in the soup so that we would have no strength in this regard anymore, but I do not believe that. March 24; A letter arrives from my uncle in Italy, from Varese; he is happy that my brother Giuseppe and my cousin Walter have found better jobs. March 25; A card arrives from Uncle Pietro, from Stuttgart. March 27; Finally, we have news from our cousin Walter, who writes in a card that he is with a farming family in Schonkleina and that he is doing quite well there. God Word not readable Word not readable be praised. This poor guy managed to come home in July 1945, but he died after a few <89> months of tuberculosis, which he contracted in Kahla. For a few months now, Hitler has established the “Volkssturm,” which consists of old men and very young boys, they are armed with everything they could find: hunting rifles, pistols, revolvers, work tools; they must be ready to defend the sacred soil, the “Fatherland” against the troops of the Allies and all other foreigners. The exodus of the inhabitants of Thuringia towards the west begins, which is already occupied by the Allied troops; they want to avoid occupation by the Red Army; Nazi propaganda has put them in terrible fear, so everyone who can manages to flee, they also load their …8 onto small handcarts. The bombing raids get worse and worse, fortunately not in Kahla; day and night bombers, escorted by fighter planes, circle in the sky above us. More and more people die. My brother stops working as a hairdresser towards the end of the month; it was lucky for him that he was protected from the cold for almost two months. Illustrations between pp. 88 - 89 Fig. 26 Varese, 24.3.45 My dear nephews, A few days ago I received a card from you, dated January 9. Stefania also received a card from you, written on the same day. We were very happy to hear from you after a long wait, we had so wished to hear something from you, especially now in the most difficult time, in winter, when the hard sides of life are much more noticeable. When we received your short letter, in which you assured us that you now live under better conditions – except Balilla, who still does the same work – we were very relieved and the great worry for you that we have always felt9 Word not readable The sentence is not continued – at least on this page We are doing quite well and are glad about that. There is still a lot of work in the factory and everyone remembers Balilla with friendly feelings.10 Feel embraced by us […]11 Fig. 27 […] your uncle always talks about it, since we have had no contact with each other, he has tried to send you some news via the radio from Milan and through the Red Cross to let you know. We hope that news from you and us from Esanatoglia arrives, from Rome12 nothing. Your aunt sends you greetings and I from here to home, many kisses from your aunt Paolina and uncle Pietro Giordani.13Fig. 2814 My dear ones, As I have already written to you, I am now doing farm work, which may not be the life path I dreamed of and I would never have believed it, but what can one do? As far as eating and sleeping go, I can only repeat that one is well here, but the work is naturally quite exhausting. The illness no longer affects me, it seems, but I do feel a little weak, although since the day I started this work15, the hours have increased. How are you? I hope well. If you hear from Uncle Pietro, tell me what he writes and also tell me about you as soon as possible. Many Italians work here in the area. If I can, I will come to visit you once, but who knows when? Hoping to see you again soon, I warmly greet you, your cousin Walter End of translation Brünning] These sentences are hardly legible. I have interpreted them as: In fabbrica si lavora sempre e Balilla è ricordato sempre con affetto. Rest not legible This word could be read as “Roma” or “Bonn” Since the beginning of the text is missing, some words are not legible, and the writer hardly uses punctuation, the content is very difficult to understand. The page on which the address is written is the continuation of the text on the following page. Here one or more words are not legible; I have added “angefangen” (started). pp. 90 - 92 April 1, 1945: Easter. Signs of nervousness among the SS. April 3 and 4: Great chaos in the tunnels; on the 5th the SS disappear; on the 6th no work deployment. Prisoners seize some potatoes and a horse from the SS. “April 1, 1945: Easter. The weather is beautiful, spring begins, and with it hope grows stronger. One hears the most varied rumors about the front line. Our guards, the SS, show signs of nervousness. The news seems good for us; the Allies appear to be advancing toward Thuringia. April 3, 1945: In the morning we find this kind-hearted man, who had always prayed and longed so much for his family and children, dead in our barrack, Pasquale Caron, from Solesino, Province of Padua. April 3-4, 1945: There is turmoil inside and outside the tunnels; orders and counter-orders. It had been seen that airplane parts and other materials were being loaded, supposedly to secure them. Confused news from the war front; it seemed the Allies were already at Eisenach and advancing into Thuringia. We begin to worry. Strange rumors circulate; we do not know what will happen to us. From the 5th, no SS guards are seen; it was said they had fled, but the guards, the Kapos, were still there. From the 6th, we are no longer taken to work; it is unknown if there will be food. It was said that machine guns had been installed on the grounds, etc. On the 6th and 7th, we did not know what to do. The Allies seemed [.... not legible] and we awaited with excitement the moment of our liberation, but were aware of the possibility that our prison guards might take revenge on us. Our courage grew and many of us set out to steal some potatoes from the surrounding fields, despite the great danger of being shot by members of the Volkssturm. But the hunger was great; some captured SS horses and after knocking them down with clubs, grabbed a cutlet and devoured it raw. Saturday, April 7: Apart from some outings to procure food, we preferred to stay in the barrack and discussed our next steps: escape? But how and where to? Perhaps the camp was the safest place? (And this, although many would have preferred us dead rather than alive; however, we only learned this after the war).” “Escape from the camp” described in Volume 3.