From Normandy to Auschwitz by Paul le Goupil

Author:Paul le Goupil [Goupil, Paul le]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Nonfiction, History, Military, World War II, Biography & Memoir, Historical
ISBN: 9781526721921
Publisher: Pen & Sword Books
Published: 2018-04-30T04:00:00+00:00

* This was a coded reference to Paul's family name, Le Goupil, which is a popular term meaning ‘fox’.

Chapter 7

Halberstadt and its Junkers Factory

Our train often stopped to allow convoys of war material and troops to pass heading for the western front, and after travelling for more than two days in good circumstances since we had food, water, and space, it stopped at the picturesque station of Langenstein which seemed to be our destination. We went through the village to reach the camp which made a poor impression on us. The inmates walked slowly as if stuck in the mud, their silhouettes similar to those who used to hang around the sick block in Buchenwald small camp. Not a single one gestured to us or tried to make contact. The SS had us line up in a sort of covered yard to the right of the entrance while we waited for orders. Our morale slipped as the time went by.

Suddenly the convoy leader had us fall in again and we went back along the station road. There had been a mistake and we were in the wrong place. We were glad to be leaving that sinister place. The pace quickened and there were no slackers. The train had remained in the station and we reoccupied our places in the wagons. After a fifteen-minute journey we got off at a small station in Halberstadt, probably Spiegelberge, this time for good.1

The camp was on the outskirts of town near the Quedlinburg road, near a railway line serving that industrial zone. It comprised only four huts surrounded by non-electrified wire, with a roll call yard at its centre. We were received by the few inmates present, mostly from the camp called Saxo. The others were at work in the Junkers factory which was a few hundred yards away near the railway line. The atmosphere seemed very different from Langenstein. We seemed to have drawn a good kommando detail.

As of the next morning we were led to the big workshop where the wings of Junkers 88s were made. The civilian management allocated us to teams consisting of German workers, either non-conscripts or draft dodgers, volunteer or requisitioned foreign workers, and PoWs most of them being Italian. All staff were managed by German foremen. The huge factory hall had been bombed shortly before our arrival and had been crudely patched up with odd sheets of metal.

Several lines worked simultaneously and each produced a wing every four hours. Later the factory management gave out a food supplement to workers who could produce a wing in three hours, and once this was demonstrated, a few days later all teams had to conform to this standard without a food supplement. However at midday the firm dished out a thick and copious extra soup ration for everyone.

Each two-man team had a wing section to fit, always the same work. I was teamed with a Belgian volunteer worker who had come to Germany to earn some money. He held the

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