where a gate squeaked rustily. There was a wall of storm troopers, and lights, shining in our eyes from the other side of a large metal gate, blinded us. The gate yawned open. Past the gate was a huge square, hundreds of yards across, lighted dazzlingly by huge reflectors hanging on poles. The dim shapes of dark buildings were eerily silhouetted from across the square. There were metal letters curving over the gate: "Labor "Will Make You Free". "Move! Move!" A shock whipped down my spine as a club came down across the back of my neck. My whole body went numb for a moment. "Move! Move!" Everywhere, clubs were plunging down to create crys of pain. Soldiers ran along behind, kicking and beating those that stumbled or lagged behind. An old man, loaded with two bags heavier than he could run with, stumbled beside me. A young boy, lithe and agile, tried to help him up. Blows from clubs and fists rained down. "Move, weaklings!" I picked up one of the old man's bags, ducking the blows. The old man raised his face, a face I had known in Holland, the face of a man of high esteem, a man respected by his people. His face was weary and bleeding, but his eyes shone bright as he stumbled to his feet. The cursing of the soldiers drifted off behind our staggering shadows. The shouting Nazis shoved us into a building filled with other prisoners-of-war and left us. I stared. Some were shaved bald, and all of them were shabby and emaciated. "Do you have food?" someone asked. Our suitcases contained food, along with clothes and valuables. I had bread, butter, cookies, sausages, salami, and a few other things, which I had hoped to eat sparingly. "Eat all you can now. They will take it from you in the morning." Muffled voices from all over the building verified the man, who, shaved bald like many others, stared hungrily at the food. "Are you hungry? Would you like something?" I opened the suitcase. "Food! Food!" Tht excited whispers came from all over the room. Other prisoners with suitcases were opening them so everyone could eat. Hands began tearing the food from my opened suitcase, even before I could hand it to them. Wild-eyed faces gulped down the food, while I tried to save some for myself, but soon there was nothing left. My brother was crying with his face in his hands and his back up against the wall. I put my arm around his shoulders. "Whatever happens, we can't let ourselves down." He didn't look up for a moment, and, when he did, he didn't say anything. I looked into his dark eyes. "Make the most of every situation." "I wouldn't care if I died right now," he mumbled. "If you don't care about yourself, think of your wife and children." Then, with optimism I didn't believe, I said, "In three or four months the war will be over and we'll go home." I wondered myself if it were not possible. It seemed now as if the most logical things were illogical. 26 Other people speculated among themselves about what would happen tomorrow. Some speculated about the end of the war. "Quiet!" The shout echoed through the wooden building. Talk froze in our mouths. "The Obeschufular will be awakened!" The door slammed shut again, and we settled down as best we could, cramped together. There were a few whispers, but I could only think of tomorrow and what it would bring. "Wake up!" Three layman prisoners in striped suits awoke those near them with kicks, and soon the clamor of waking people filled the barracks. "Silence! Silence!" The doors were thrown open with a loud crash, and they shouted in guttural German. "Charagho! Double time. Quick! No talking!" They drove us into another building. German officers yelled obscenities and cuffed those that lagged. Standing in the room by tables and boxes were about twenty layman prisoners in sandals, naked from the waist up. Their shaved heads added to the illusion of a nightmare. Our valuables were put in a sack, while we answered questions about our background and nationality. They told us lying would bring serious consequences. We were given a label for our belongings. I stood with the rest and watched the line. An old man with a beard hobbled obediently to the front of the line. Someone whispered behind me, "The layman will have to be rough on the old man. An officer is watching." The old man handed his valuables across the table. "Fool!" the layman prisoner screamed at him. "Everything! Hurry!" They took his cane and even his glasses and teeth. The line moved on. The harsh buzzing of the shears grew louder, and a wave of humiliation settled over me as a prisoner shaved off all the hair from my body. Into another room we "charaghed", naked. In this room, sunken in the floor, was a dark pool stinking of disinfectant, sour and humid. Lined up on both sides were layman prisoners clutching long poles. One by one they were forcing us through the trough, pushing us under with the poles. I had watched others, and those that had shirked had been beaten so badly they had to be dragged from the trough, bleeding and unconscious. I plunged in. The disinfectant burned my eyes, but I went under and tried to hurry across. A pole rammed into my shoulder, scraping the skin, causing it to burn like fire. I scrambled out. A thin, ugly man held a piece of soap out to me. "Take this. Hurry!" The next room had a cement floor with a large drain in the center, and there were shower nozzles all over above us. We waited. Nothing happened. Suddenly hot, steaming water scorched my shoulders. Screams and shouts of surprise came from all over the room. People were running into each other as they tried to find a way out from under the burning water. It hit my back like needles. It seemed a long time before 27