The rain scratched Erwin Schuster's skin more than the straw-filled sacks he'd attempted to rest on the night before had. It stung his eyes, making it hard for him to see the SS men to his left and right or even the Blockführer, who counted the inmates. The men next to Erwin shivered from the cold. Even though the rain had soaked their clothes to the skin, the fabric still hung loosely against their frame. Erwin stood out as a newcomer, even though he was careful to follow instructions and the mass of inmates around him. His body was still full and muscular, not malnourished and fading away. He could pick out all the people around him who were also new or new-ish.
A few rows ahead the inmates then stepped forward and were counted through, and Erwin and his row inched up a bit further. He'd been told which Arbeitskommando he'd been assigned to, and the inmate who'd explained where he'd have to assemble with the other men in the Arbeitskommando Straßenbau had warned him to 'not step close to the edge of the road'. Erwin had not had the time to ask exactly what he'd meant.
He stepped forward, his name rang out over the sodden row of inmates and he was noted as present and alive. He walked to the Arbeitskommando he'd been assigned to. It was a rather large group of inmates, at least two hundred or so, each and every one of them looked utterly exhausted. The wave of attendance washed over the next row and then the next, until finally, the band started to play and he was marched towards the entry gate along with the rest of his Arbeitskommando.
The morning fog clouded most of his vision, but he could make out the steep slopes dropping down to his right. They were marched down a windy road, and somewhere along the way, they took a sharp left upwards. After about half an hour of walking everyone in front of him abruptly stopped. Erwin stepped to the side to peer around the group ahead. About ten yards in front of him the road ended. He fell back in line.
"First ten of you step forward! Left side of the road. Second ten, forward! Right side of the road! Next ten, middle! Move up three yards! Next ten, left side of the road! Ten! Right! Ten! Middle! Move up!" The SS man barked his commands, and as if his words were the motors that moved the inmates' feet they stepped into the constellation he'd built for them. Erwin went to the left. He was confused as to how they were supposed to build the rest of the road without shovels, rakes, or any other tools. The SS Arbeitskommandoführer finished shouting his inmates in line. "Start!" To his right and left Erwin saw the men bend down and start to clear a path through the forest to make a road. Erwin was dumbfounded. Where was the equipment?
"Get over here!" One of the inmates hissed at him. Erwin leaned down. He grabbed Erwin's hand and pushed it into the dirt. "You have to work. Just pull out the weeks and stones and throw them off the edge."
"I thought this was the Kommando Straßenbau?" Erwin asked quietly.
"It is! Don't you see? The road was never finished, they cleared this area a few months back but then the money wasn't enough to pave the roads, so it's going to be a dirt road. But it has to be cleared first, as you can see, it's uneven and overgrown." Erwin stole a glance at the road. The inmate was right. The ground was far from level.
"Don't we at least get shovels or something?"
"No. No, we don't." The inmate replied solemnly. "Now get to work, I don't want to get screwed by Arbeitskommadoführer Hofer because of you." With his last fearful remark, the inmate turned his back to Erwin and continued to pull and push at the dirt with his bare hands.
Erwin straightened upright and looked back at the Arbeitskommandoführer. The man stood a bit apart from the men at the far end of their group. He was smoking a cigarette. Erwin turned his attention toward the ground.
"Inmate!" The call started Erwin so much that he almost jumped. A second after he heard it he felt a sharp pain in his upper back. "Do I have to hit you again or will you work?" He turned his head and found himself staring right into the blue eyes of Arbeitskommandoführer Hofer. The man brandished a wooden Schlagstock. The Insignia on his shoulder displayed three little squares that ran in a diagonal line above three silver stripes. An SS-Hauptsturmführer, a rank Erwin's father shared from serving in the First World War. His father and older brother had convinced him to join the Waffen-SS, and he had sent an application, but he'd been brought to the camp before he'd received an answer. Maybe there was a letter for him at home, if it had been sent before he'd been imprisoned of course. "What are you waiting for, work!" Arbeitskommandoführer raised his arm and brought the wooden rod down hard on Erwin's knuckles. Erwin just nodded and turned away. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes but he blinked them away. He hadn't been hit over the hands since secondary school, and back then the teachers had never hit so hard. His knuckles were bleeding. He dove his hands into the dirt, hoping that the cool earth would soothe his aching hands. Instead of comfort, he found that the dirt around his fingers just seemed to come alive and throb around his knuckles, joining him in the pain.
The incident with Arbeitskommandoführer Hofer had shaken him up, and for the next five hours, he never took his hands out of the dirt for more than a few seconds, fearing that there might be one of the SS or Inmate supervisors behind him who'd hit him over the hands again.