The young officer looked down and saw that the spit had hit his shoe and laughed. He slowly turned around and shrugged his shoulders as though he had given up, then suddenly turned back with the rod in his hand raised and quickly stuck the prisoner across the face three times. The prisoner slumped in his chair; he was now bleeding quite profusely from the cuts on his face. He managed to gain what little strength he had to sit up. He groaned and spat blood and pieces of teeth on the floor at the SS officer’s feet again. He looked up with hate and determination in his eyes. He did not smile but his eyes just glared back at the officer, declaring with his eyes: is that all you got?
The young officer then turned and walked back to the older officer who was sitting a meter away, just where the light of the lamp was fading and just providing enough light on his face to illuminate the lower half of his face. He spoke very firmly in German to the young SS officer. He then unclipped the handgun out of the holster on his right side and cocked it and handed it to the young officer. The prisoner saw this and started to squirm in his chair.
The young officer looked the older man in the eye with disbelief. He swallowed and readjusted his posture and cricked his neck readying himself for what he was prepared to do. He took the gun from the man’s hand in a smooth transfer, as it was obvious this was not his first time the older officer had ever handed him a gun.
The young officer walked over and held the gun to the prisoner’s temple. The cold steel of the barrel touching his skin made the prisoner recoil and shiver in fear.
He screamed, “No!!!” but as the words left his mouth, the gun fired. BOOM! The sound resounded around the room and through the cavernous halls of the prison. The prisoner tensed and squirmed as the bullet entered his skull. Blood gushed like a faucet from the man’s wound as he slumped over, eyes open with the same intensity gleaming from them like a headlight. But there was no confidence in them now, just emptiness. Lifelessness. Death.
The officer spoke to the two German guards standing by the door in a rushed and impatient tone, “Nehmen Sie diesen Leichnam und bringen Sie ihn mit den anderen Gefangenen zurück in die Zelle. Sagen Sie ihnen, dass Widerstand nicht akzeptabel ist, und schnappen Sie sich einen anderen, um ihn zu verhören.“
(“Take this corpse and put him back in the cell with the other prisoners. Tell them that resistance is not acceptable and grab me another to interrogate.”)
The two guards looked at each other with confusion, and then the one closest to the officer spoke, “Verzeihung, Sir, aber wir können nur Deutsch. Wie können wir den amerikanischen Gefangenen das sagen?”
(“Pardon, sir, but we only know German. How can we tell the American prisoners this?” )
The officer realized what he had asked was out of the question but still wanted his orders followed. He frowned and spoke firmly, “Holen Sie sich Mikka Bakker. Er kann Englisch.” (“Go get Mikka Bakker. He knows English.” )
The guards removed the lifeless body with blood still oozing out of the small entrance hole, and, as they passed the officer who had shot the man, the other side of the skull was displayed, pouring blood out of a gigantic chasm that had occurred when the bullet and energy that came with it had ruptured the skull, spraying brain blood with it across the room. The man holding the gun just smiled as they removed the body, and handed the gun back to the older officer.
The men carried the body by the arms down the hall, the man’s heels dragging on the concrete floors, making an echoing sound when the rubber sole would catch the edge of the new concrete flooring. They reached the heavy metal door, unlocking the metal lock with the same loud echoing response, which startled the men in the pitch-black room.
The guards entered, lifting the man up with what little energy they had left from dragging his large frame down the hall, and threw him on the floor. His body made a resounding slam, as only a dead body with drained muscles and bones can make it as it hits the hard unforgiving floor. Several of the men gasped. There were 10 men in the room, who were still trying to adjust their eyes to the light that had been abruptly turned on in the pitch-black dungeon.
The guards stood over the body and the short one closest to the men shouted, “Dies passiert, wenn Sie nicht kooperieren,”(“This is what happens when you don’t cooperate.” ), and turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door, leaving the light on for just a few seconds to let all the men look at the body. Then there was the sound of a light being switched off and then absolute darkness once again.
From the dark, a raspy voice with a southern twang struggled to speak. “Why the hell they kill the new guy?!”
Another voice from the dark spoke. “What kind of people do this?”
On the other side of the room, they could hear a man crying but trying hard to hold back his emotions.
“Is that you, Joe?” said the man with the southern accent.
On the opposite side of the room, Joe replied, “Nah, Tex. I’m over here. I’m fine. I don’t know why they killed the new guy. They are just evil, trying to break our resolve. I don’t know who is crying but hold strong, soldier. You hear those bombs in the background?” He paused for the men to listen, but all they could hear was the echoing of dripping water.
“That is the sound of the allied forces coming to rescue us and show these Kraut bastards who’s boss. Stay strong and don’t let them break your will.”
At that moment, a young officer with a similar uniform to the man who had shot the soldier in the temple opened the door, turned on the light, and walked into the room.
He was tall, nothing particular or distinctive about this young officer, just like all the other 3rd Reich officers: tall, blue-eyed, nicely shaven, with short slicked-back blond hair. His eyes were not like the other officer, though. They were not angry and filled with hate. This was a junior SD officer, Mikka Bakker. When he walked into the room, he looked down and saw the dead body and his eyes could not hold back the horror they were witnessing. Although his face did not show emotion, like the good soldier he was, he couldn’t help but take a second look, and he stumbled upon the first few words he was about to speak.
Officer Bakker spoke in English with a strong German accent. He spoke slowly, as though his grasp of English was good but he hadn’t had much practice, so lacked the confidence it took to speak it at normal speed. “If you do not cooperate (struggling to pronounce the o-o in the word), “you will find a similar fate for all of you.”
The short SS officer who had yelled at the men before rushed up and yelled in German, very loudly, with spit flying from his lips, very close to the prisoner who had been crying but now had controlled his moment of weakness, but could not hide the red eyes and nose that comes with weeping.
Officer Bakker translated in a calm, unamused and monotone voice, “You will cooperate or I…” he stumbled on the word, as he was confused whether he should say ‘I’or ‘he',"… "will put the bullet in the next head, you cowards.”
When Tex heard this, he jumped forward to his knees against his chain, as that was as much movement as they would allow. He was restrained against the wall. He yelled, “Fuck you!” loudly, directed at the officer, not removing his eyes from the short guard’s eyes. He spoke again. “You will pay for your sins against humanity, whether in this life or the next! FUCK YOU!”
The guard heard this and clenched his teeth. He turned and ran over to Tex, who was smirking with confidence, still looking the guard in the eye, with his hands restrained behind his back against the wall. The guard kicked Tex in the face, knocking him backward, causing Joe and the men to look away from his pain. The man yelled louder in German.
Officer Bakker translated again. “You won’t win. You can never win. We will get what we want and you will suffer until we get what we want.” His eyes were looking at the ground, trying not to look at the dead body on the ground or at Tex’s bleeding nose. The guard looked