The Horse Adjutant
It’s a long way to Tip-per-ar-y It’s a long way to go It’s a long way to Tip-per-ar-y It’s a long way to the Sweetest Girl I know. Goodbye Piccadilly, Farewell Leicester Square, It’s a long, long way to Tipperary, But my heart’s right there.
I was assigned to Kommando 80, otherwise known as the Schlosser Kommando. My assignment was decided before I arrived. Buna was not an extermination camp. It was a factory, and because of this, they needed labor just as much as raw materi- als. The primary mission of this factory was to make synthetic rubber that could be crafted into tires. Since tires are an integral part of keeping the war machine roll- ing, the factory was important. The manufacturing of rubber is also where the name Buna comes from Butadiene (Acetylene) is one of the main ingredients. My divi- sion, the Schlosser 80 Kommando, was making ethanol, a highly flammable ma - terial used in the production of rubber. Warning signs were posted everywhere. I would now have to get used to a new kind of deadly danger, the explosive potential of ethanol. Buna was a dangerous place during peacetime, requiring care at all times to maintain safety, but this was a time of war, and a plant of this scale was a prime target for the Allies, not to mention unhappy prisoners. One spark could set the liquid off. I grew up in a time of horses, sabers, and rifles, and I saw the tanks rolling in beginning the new epoch of industrialization and warfare. I could imag- ine the punch of these tanks to be fierce, but looking at those giant vats filled with their explosive power was something I could not comprehend. I couldn’t even think about it. It was better to just focus on doing my work, one day at a time. On a normal day, right before roll call, if it was cold, I would huddle near a wall for warmth with the other prisoners. When the bell rang, we would quickly line up into a formation. Once dismissed, we would walk to the factory maintaining our forma- tion. And just as I was taught by the Straf Kommando, we would begin our day, walking past the SS officer in charge and turn our heads in unison as we took off our caps in a sign of subservient obedience. All of this was happening as grand music was playing, courtesy of the Buna prisoner band. And, just like Birkenau, once we were finished walking past the SS, we would turn our heads forward, and put our
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