47

Introductory Text

Under the Weather
The SS Officer's Narrative Part 05 47th Post Posted 11 May 2016 at 18:54:51 EDT Link to original

The next day, I felt under the weather. The vivid dreams of the previous night had left my mind feeling dull and exhausted. As soon as I left my quarters I was greeted with the news that one of our Ukrainians had gone mad during the night and attempted to attack Dr. Engel's team in their quarters. It was none other than the one who had brought me the strange skull fragment.

After shooting him, they had come to the conclusion that he had somehow ingested some of their magical chemical, which they referred to as the "Swiss Invention." Engels insisted that I make an announcement to the camp: anyone found ingesting this chemical under any circumstance, whether by intention or accident, will be summarily shot, regardless of whether they are prisoner or Hiwi or even SS. This was by order of the high command.

At this, I was forced to admit to myself what was already obvious: I had somehow been dosed with the chemical in handling the bone fragment. My dreams had been a reaction to the poisoning. Looking into Engel's cold blue eyes, I tried to deduce the consequences of confessing this to him. Despite his disagreeable haughtiness, he seemed like a rational, efficient man with an appropriate love of duty and country. I had no doubt that he would murder me without hesitation. I decided to keep my little nocturnal epiphany to myself.

Naturally, my curiosity in Engel's project had been aroused again. He apparently was working with a chemical which could induce temporary madness. The value of such a chemical was obvious. But what of the bizarre bone fragment? What had it come from? I couldn't help but feel that this creature, whatever it was, was somehow connected to the vision of the monstrous bloody mother. Again and again, her blood face appeared in my mind, her filmy eyes gazing down at me, inhuman and imperious.

I attempted to contact the Jew again, but after our conversation, Dr. Engel's team guarded him jealously. He was never left alone. As the hot summer days went by, my curiosity about the matter grew to obsessive proportions. The monstrous mother visited me several more times in my dreams (of the normal variety this time, but no less vivid and disturbing.) I began surreptitiously observing Engel's laboratory, which was guarded day and night, and I asked some of my men to do the same.

To our knowledge, the bloody "packages" had ceased to emerge from within, but something stranger began to happen. This new phenomenon was presumably occurring at all hours, but was imperceptible in the bustle of the day, when men were about and the gas chambers were operating. Only at night, and only when the fires were burning quietly, could it be perceived. I first observed it shortly before dawn one muggy morning.

As ridiculous as it might sound for me to be skulking about in my own camp, I did just that, slipping along the wall of the new gas chamber to come within a short distance of the laboratory. There I witnessed what others has reported to me. At fixed intervals, a sound emerged from the laboratory. It was very quiet but not just my imagination. A creaking sound. The sound that many old houses and structures make as their materials shrink and swell from temperature and moisture. But this came very regularly, every 4 or 5 seconds. Slowly, a realization crept upon me. The building was breathing. Steadily, in and out, it was breathing. It was alive.

This "realization," which I'll admit was more of an unconfirmed intuition, filled me with a dread so strong that tears came to my eyes. There was something enormous and alive inside that building. The sight of death, bloody death beyond most men's imaginings, had left me unmoved, but the sight of life, this new and unnatural life, pressing against the walls of the building, was enough to chill me. Again I saw the face of the unholy mother in mind my, saw her filmy eyes, saw a slight smile form on her lips between the streams of blood.

That night I could not sleep. Fortunately, the next day was our weekly day off, and I was able spend most of the day in my quarters. It was abnormally, intolerably hot and humid. My thoughts followed disorderly circles around the revolting image of the Mother, and I felt as if I was being revisited by the temporary madness brought on by the so-called Swiss Invention. I had long loathed life at the camp, but had accepted it as an tolerable hardship. But now the constant smell of the burning sickened me, and I felt I could take no more.

That afternoon, some of my men decided to go off to a nearby lake for a swim, and on a whim I accompanied them. I needed a reprieve from the heat. At the lake, I eased myself into the cool water and floated idly, watching the clouds pass overhead. Here, there was nothing but the gentle twittering of nature. It had been here before our murderous camp had been built, and it would be here long after. Gentle and peaceful.

I had been in water for just a few minutes when I received the news: group of prisoners had broken into the armory, smuggled weapons out, and a full-scale uprising occurring back at the camp.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind. We raced back to the camp, and I found myself personally trading fire with the prisoners, as all about buildings burned and everything was chaos. We called for reinforcements, managed to subdue the camp, and set out into the woods to catch the escapees. A fair number were intercepted, but over 100 escaped. This was an unmitigated disaster. Coming back into the camp after the hunt, I had only to look around at the faces of my men to know that I was now in a position of total disgrace.

As calamitous thoughts raced through my head, I found myself walking towards Engels' laboratory. Deep black soot stains around the front door showed me that the interior had been burned out. All around the entrance lay the bodies of Engel's team, their white coats dyed in fresh red. They had been massacred. Engle himself had been stabbed or shot several times, and his throat had been slashed. And then there was the Jew...

The Jew lay on the ground with one of my SS men standing over him, holding a rifle with a fixed bayonet. The Jew's abdomen had been bisected and his bowels spilled out all over the ground. They were now caked with dust. A few feet from him lay a kitchen knife. Apparently, he had stabbed Engel's whole team to death before being opened up by the bayonet. To kill a half dozen men like this was no mean feat.

My officer stood with one of his boots atop a loop of the Jew's intestine, sneering at him. Remarkably, the Jew was still alive and aware. When I approached, he lifted his head and I, for the last time, found myself caught in his strange gaze. We stood like this for a moment, staring at each other, inexplicable emotions flooding my mind.

The Jew opened his mouth and croaked something. A bloody foam spilled out over his lips. He tried again. "Water," he said.

I quietly instructed my man to get some water. He scoffed, and I clouted him about the head and screamed at him. He scurried off and returned a moment later with a large ladle of water. I took it and stooped down over the Jew and carefully tipped the ladle to his lips, letting him drink. He drank carefully. I wiped the bleeding foam from his lips. All the while, I could not fathom why I was doing this except by the commandment of the man's pleading eyes.

His lips trembled and he attempted to speak. I cradled his head and leaned close to hear his words.

"I know... This is not... God... I've killed them... But others... You must..."

He waited for him to continue, but he did not. "Must what?" I asked.

"You've seen her... Your dream... Is the future..."

"The mother?" I asked. "The bloody woman?"

"There is still time... To stop her... You must... You must..."

And just like that, his life fled from him, and the glimmer in his eyes went dull.

I set his head gently on the ground again and stood up. I looked to the burned out entrance of the laboratory. It was now unguarded. I could walk right in. A chill went through me at the thought, but I knew that I must. I walked to the entrance. Just inside was a curtain made of tarpaulin concealing the interior. The smell of charred meat and petrol, which normally pervaded the entire camp, which had been giving me headaches and slowly driving me mad all the past year, was especially, sickeningly strong here. With a trembling hand, I pulled back the curtain and looked inside.