The Horse Adjutant he would hit me with his stick. I let him hit me a few times. I did not feel it nor did I allow it to hurt me. I just needed to create a diversion so I could run past him to the latrine. While he was abusing me, he would also threaten, “When the next selec- tion comes, I will make sure you are einschreiben (on the list).” My misery knew no bounds, but I was not alone. All of us were suffering. My sickness also did not let me rest at night nor did it excuse me from an assem- bly in any weather condition and a full day of work. I had to go frequently. But we were not supposed to go to the latrine during the night. At night, a portable tub was set up for pee only. If you had diarrhea, you
Bloody Mietek
had to do your best to wait until the morning. Sometimes this just wasn’t possible. The worst would be to soil your clothing. There was nothing to change into. So you just had to find a place to let it go and hope you did not get caught. Thankfully, Roman told Wiktor about me as soon as he was able. Wiktor came into my block looking for me. He was dressed in an elegant blue and white uniform with a red triangle, and a leather vest over top of this, with a white armband. This designated him as a political prisoner. Wiktor was an impressive man even though he was a prisoner. When I spoke with him the first time, I was in bad shape. He saw my battered face and broken teeth. I also showed him a few welts. I must have been in bad shape because as we spoke, he put both of his hands on his head and said, “How did this happen? Who did this to you?” Besides being beaten, I was sick, and he was trying to figure out just how bad. Weakly, I told him, “I came from Grybov. They murdered everyone.” He said, “I am also from Grybow.” My accent was Yiddish, his was Polish. I knew he was from my hometown since Roman had already told me, but it sounded wonderful to hear the familiar sound in a comforting voice. I told him my immediate problem; bloody diarrhea, and fever. My voice trailed off. He said, “Leon, they put you in the worst place. Is the block elder abusing you?” I told him, “He is chasing me whenever he can, always with the stick. I have to run like a rat to escape getting beaten.” Before I could finish, he had to go, “Leon,” he said, “I know what to do.” Later that day, Wiktor sent Abe Fenigstein and Roman Blauner to help me. They brought medicine. Abe handed me a paper with the medicine inside, he said, “Swal-
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