The Goering Treasure (The Len Levinson Collection Book 4) by Len Levinson & Gordon Davis

The Goering Treasure (The Len Levinson Collection Book 4) by Len Levinson & Gordon Davis

Author:Len Levinson & Gordon Davis [Levinson, Len & Davis, Gordon]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Destroyer Books
Published: 2015-09-29T08:00:00+00:00


Chapter Thirty-Two

It was three o’clock in the morning at Sachenhausen. Rolf was dragged from the interrogation building across the yard to one of the internment barracks and thrown inside. He landed on the wooden plank floor and was unable to move, but the Thierack serum was active in his body and he felt new pain.

All the prisoners in the barracks awakened, because whenever the door opened in the middle of the night it usually heralded a new calamity. The guards tossed in a black-and-white striped prisoner uniform for Rolf, closed the door, and marched away. The barracks filled with a collective sigh of relief, and most of the prisoners fell back to sleep.

Jacob Goldsmith, who had a face like a fox, jumped down from his bunk, gathered up the clothes, and returned to his bunk, where he put them on. Jacob was always cold and hungry, and would do anything to make himself more comfortable.

The prisoners lay side by side on wooden shelves stacked four deep. Their heads faced the door and their feet touched the heads of the prisoners behind them. A few lucky ones had moth-eaten wool blankets. The barracks was unheated and you could see outside through cracks in the wall and ceiling.

Rabbi Itzhak Dovid of Minsk lay on the wood planks of his front bunk at floor level and gazed at the broken figure before him. He wanted to roll over and go back to sleep so he could conserve his strength and maybe, God willing, pass the next selection; but something in him wouldn’t let him sleep with that man lying there. The rabbi was fifty, but looked eighty as a result of three years of hard labor at various prison camps; moreover, his beard was gone. He rolled over and touched the shoulder of Sasha Levin who was on the next wooden platform separated from his own by a two-inch slat. Sasha had been a farmer in the Ukraine and as hearty as a bear when he’d been captured, but now he was a skeleton like the rest of them.

“Are you awake, Sasha?”

“No, I’m asleep.”

“Help me with him, will you?”

“Go to hell.”

“I’m already there and so are you, but help me with him anyway.”

Sasha grumbled and raised himself as the rabbi crawled forward onto the floor. They went to the side of Rolf.

“I think he’s dead,” Sasha said. “I don’t want a corpse next to me.”

“We’re all corpses and we’re all next to you, so stop being foolish.” The rabbi turned Rolf onto his back.

“They’ve taken out his eyes,” Sasha said. “He must have done something terrible.”

“Not necessarily.” Sasha put his ear next to Rolf’s heart. “He’s still alive, but not by much.”

“I wonder why they didn’t give him any clothes.”

“Maybe they don’t have any more.”

“They always have clothes for prisoners. They get them from those who go to the gas chambers.”

“Then Jacob must have them.”

The rabbi climbed up and back into Jacob’s bunk, passing men who growled at the disturbance. Jacob lay on his side and pretended to be asleep.



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