Was Kramer the Belsen prisoner who begged to be killed | Winston Smith Ministry of Truth Archive

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Was Kramer the Belsen prisoner who begged to be killed

Alan Moorehead visited Bergen-Belsen only a few days after the Germans had
transferred the camp to the British. On a tour of the camp he saw the captured
SS staff. From his book Eclipse, written in 1945 and published in 1946:

As we approached the cells of the SS guards, the [British] sergeant's language become ferocious.

"We had had an interrogation this morning," the captain said. "I'm afraid they are not a pretty sight."

"Who does the interrogation?"

"A Frenchman. I believe he was sent up here specially from the French underground to do the job."

The sergeant unbolted the first door and flung it back with a crack like thunder. He strode into the cell, jabbing a metal spike in front of him. "Get up," he shouted. "Get up.; get up, you dirty bastards."

There were half a dozen men lying or half lying on the floor.

One or two were able to pull themselves erect at once.

The man nearest me, his shirt and face spattered with blood, made two attempts before he got on to his knees and then gradually on to his feet. He stood with his arms stretched out in front of him, trembling violently.

"Get up," the sergeant shouted. They were all on their feet now, but supporting themselves against the wall. "Get away from that wall."
"They pushed themselves out into space and stood there swaying. Unlike the women they looked not at us but vacantly in front, staring at nothing.

Same thing in the next cell and the next, where the men were bleeding and very dirty, were moaning something in German.

"You had better see the doctor," the captain said. "He's a nice specimen. He invented some of the tortures here. He had one trick on injecting creosote and petrol into the prisoners' veins. He used to go round the huts and say: 'Too many people in here. far too many.' The used to loose off his revolver round the hut. The doctor has just finished his interrogation."

The doctor had a cell to himself.

"Come on. Get up," the sergeant shouted. The man was lying in his blood on the floor, a massive figure with a heavy head and bedraggled beard. He placed his two arms on to the seat of a wooden chair, gave himself a heave and got half-upright. One more heave and he was on his feet. He flung wide his arms towards us.

"Why don't you kill me?" he whispered. "Why don't you kill me? I can't stand it any more."

The same phrases dribbled out of his lips over and over again.

"He's been saying that all morning, the dirty bastard," the sergeant said.

SOURCE: http://fotos.fotoflexer.com/d0af39419822debef2f4b2c626e0bf69.jpg

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