From his position as a prisoner in the Punishment Company (SK), Zenon Rozanski was never able to obtain a comprehensive overview of the conditions in the KZ Auschwitz. Therefore, we strongly recommend that our readers also read the books by the Secretary of the Comité Internationale des Camps, Hermann Langbein. The titles are listed in the Appendix.
The colors in the left-hand corners of their chests made it possible to determine to which particular group the prisoners belonged. Through these colors, as well as the numbers which were tattooed into the skin of the left forearms and later fixed unto the clothes, the prisoners—in the eyes of the SS—ceased to exist as persons. The green ones, the BVs (Befristete Vorbeugungshäftlinge), were officially “restricted prisoners in preventive custody”; unofficially, they were habitual criminals. These were most often the worst prisoners and were frequently as brutal as the SS. However, even among those, there were exceptions. The red corner, on the other hand, designated political prisoners, thus, also Zenon Rozanski, the journalist from Warsaw. Many BVs (green ones) rendered great service to their comrades. Eugen Kogon describes in his book Der SS-Staat the fights between the red and green ones for predominance in the camps. The fate of thousands of individuals sometimes depended on who would be the winner.
I read Rozanski’s report, as it is now before us, for the first time as a young man during the 1950s. My interest in the debate about the crimes of the NS regime was sparked by discussions in the home of my parents.
Later, I tried to research the biography of Rozanski after the collapse of the National Socialist regime. However, it was already too late. His traces are lost in Brazil. My research, which I conducted with the help of many authorities and individuals, came to an end in the 1970s. The present book is the only one which Rozanski wrote. It was published for the first time in 1948 by the Fritz Küster Verlag in Hannover. Although it was printed on paper of poor quality, it appeared in a relatively high edition. Its reception was probably minimal during the bad times of the post-war years. That was certainly the case during the better times at the beginning of the Wirtschaftswunder (economic miracle), when the SS-State was a matter of only the recent past. At that time, the repression of the earlier period was achieved almost to perfection. It was not until the Auschwitz Trial in Frankfurt during the years of 1963 through 1965 that there was a growing awareness of the crimes in the German concentration camps and, consequently, an increased readiness to confront these facts.
Today, as at that time, we hear the opinion expressed that the past events should finally be put to rest. The growing of the extreme right in the German Federal Republic must be stemmed. However, the repression has to be balanced against the reports, books and lectures of former KZ prisoners so that the truth can time and again pave the way. The new edition of the work Mützen ab . . . , published by the Fritz Küster–Archiv of the University of Oldenburg ought to be perceived in this sense. I wish this book a wide circulation, especially among young readers.
Dr. Med. Winfried Oster
Herdecke
Preface
This book has nothing in common with the so-called literature. It is a collection of true events that took place during my stay in the Punishment Company (SK) of the Concentration Camp Auschwitz. A few witnesses to these events have also survived the Camp and are now providing the “proof of truth.” All names mentioned in this book are real.
I limit myself, in writing down these facts, to a truthful, photographic reproduction of a reality which until recently constituted my daily life.
In order to make my work easier, I have selected from the immense fullness of the multifarious events those which placed me personally closer to the reality of the life in the Camp. My experiences are, however, not unusual. If every former prisoner of a Concentration Camp would write down his personal memoirs, they all would have in common the same sense despite the variety of events they experienced because every prisoner would have felt in a similar way the spirit of the Concentration Camp.
I dedicate this book to the “old guard” of Auschwitz whose bloodily earned experience and comradely sacrifice saved quite a few comrades who arrived later. I dedicate it to those who were still able to experience freedom and to those who fell in front of the Black Wall of the Execution Block, Number 11.
Hannover, 1947
The Author
Zenon Rozanski, a journalist, was born on 10.01.1904 in Warsaw. Rozanski was imprisoned in the KZ Auschwitz from 1941 to 1944. At the end, he was camp senior in the adjacent camp of Buchenwald, Eschershausen-Holzen, near Holzminden. Rozanski lived after the collapse of the NS dictatorship in Hannover, and in 1948 he emigrated to Brazil.
1
“Prisoner 8214 is obediently reporting to the Strafrapport (Penal Registry) . . .” SS-Hauptsturmführer (Captain), Fritzsch, the Lagerführer (camp leader) of the KZ Auschwitz, was sitting behind a wide desk beneath a picture of the Führer. He raised his head . . .
“Well . . .” Small, black, goggle eyes were scrutinizing my erect posture. “What mischief have you been up to?”
“I have taken two dishes of garbage from the SS kitchen,” I shouted as loudly as I could.
Fritzsch’s eyes flared up . . .
“What? You have taken? You have stolen, you, you dog! The garbage from the kitchen is designated for the fattening of the pigs, and the pigs are for the SS . . . Sabotage!!!” For a moment, he broke off, and then: “Have you already been punished??”
“No.”
He looked at me inquisitively.
“How long have you been in the camp?”
“A half year.”
SS–Hauptsturmführer Fritzsch stood up. Slowly he swayed on his comically thin X-legs toward me. The pale yellow face of the liver patient began to crimson . . .
“A half year,” he repeated. “Since when have you been stealing from the German state?”
“This was the first time,” I began, but a well-aimed punch in the stomach prevented me from finishing the sentence.
“Shut up, you are lying! If you had not been stealing, you would have already been flying through the chimney during the last three months; that has been calculated scientifically.” Briefly he looked at me. “You are living too long.” He turned to the prisoner in the orderly room (Schreibstube), who had been silent until now. “25 and SK. Out!” The latter was again aimed at me.
I clicked my heels.
“Prisoner 8214 is asking permission to leave,”
“Get out!”
Within the next moment, I was outside. Mechanically I registered at the gate and continued to walk towards the Block. I felt as if drunk. The unexpectedly harsh sentencing made me numb. I was so depressed that I could not think straight. Obtrusively, it was booming in my ears:
SK . . . SK . . . SK . . . (SK=Strafkompanie. Punishment Company, SK).
“You stupid dog!” I suddenly heard it yelled, and at the same moment, I felt a punch in my teeth. In a split second, I came to my senses . . .
In front of me stood the block leader (Blockführer), whom we called Tom Mix. When I passed by him, I had not taken off my cap, as was required by camp protocol.
“Prisoner 8214,” I noisily introduced myself while I was clicking my wooden clogs.
“You surely are drunk, aren‘t you?” With a charming smile, he belted a second punch into my stomach, which threw me to the ground. However, I immediately forced myself to get up because I remembered that the SS men had the habit of kicking prisoners who were lying on the ground.
“I beg your pardon,