Days later, we were shoveling the two feet of snow off of one long row of underground bunkers onto the second set of bunkers. And when that was done, they had us shovel the snow back again onto the first set of bunkers. I tried to get some of my fellow prisoners to swipe the left-over cooked rice in the big, black, outdoor, cooking kettle when no guards were around & the kettle had been forgotten. I couldn't get anyone to join me taking a small chance in order to feed ourselves later -- we had eaten irregularly for 3-4 days, no one knew when the next meal was coming -- everyone was still hungry! I felt like a recruiting sergeant who got none of his quota asking 4 or 5 fellow prisoners to join me spiriting the big pot into a nearby bunker. The very bunker we were forced to use as a cold, water-logged underground shelter from the still-colder night wind. I felt horrific failure when I couldn't get a single fellow prisoner to help me steal that rice! I hope it was because they knew the guards wouldn't REALLY starve us, but I'm not so sure.
I don't remember what they had us do during daytime -- I can only remember nighttimes with bright Nazi-style yard floodlights everywhere inside the POW camp! Occasionally, the loudspeakers would blare out my number: "111, report to the Commandant's Office!" They did this repeatedly with a couple of Prisoner Numbers ("104" also comes to mind) to make sure the other prisoners thought WE were the collaborators that the prison staff had planted among us. It almost worked on ME, too -- only after one NCO I knew from pre-capture was always in the Commandant's line every time I was, did I know he probably was being manipulated as a "patsy," just like me. One big mind-control game by the guards & Commandant (all were survival & resistance training instructors, of course). But they relished their jobs!
After reporting to the Commandant's Office 3 or 4 separate times, I finally figured an option I HAD to try. I needed to convince at least one other prisoner that we were all being manipulated by the guard staff who was setting me up to seem like a collaborator while REAL collaborators were ACTUALLY given better cover among the prisoner population. I had worked my way down to the far end of the large, outdoor compound & work area (probably 6 acres) where we were still shoveling snow from one set of bunkers onto the other. Now, more than 200 prisoners were spread out between the Camp Commandant's office and me. Our feet were cold because our standard combat boots were not insulated; but, that was good because the guards who would have to search for me would suffer by standing on the wet snow,too! I knew the only identification means was the two-inch metal circle with our prisoner number tied around our necks. I posited: If I didn't just "follow orders" and report straightaway to the Commandant's Office for my individual interrogation, guards would have to examine all the prisoners one by one to read the number around their necks before they could find me. They would have to venture out from THEIR warm cubby-holes or indoor offices to find me! I would have my arms yanked and punched, and I'd be shoved around and put in "stress positions," but I didn't think their rifles would really butt-stroke me like a true Nazi's would have.
"111, report to the Commandant's office!" I worked my way to the small group of prisoners farthest away from the Commandant's Office! After no response from me, 5 minutes later: "111, report to the Commandant's Office." After another 5 minutes of my shoveling snow in the distant part of the yard, the loudspeaker started to lose its patience. Maybe, it was wondering if I had escaped like a couple of other prisoners. Then, I could see extra armed guards coming out from the Commandant's Office, and 4 or 5 guards started at the other end of the compound to grab prisoners and look at the number tethered around their necks.
I sidled over to two fellow prisoners who were talking as we shoveled, and told them to watch the guards at the far end -- I'd bet the guards were looking for ME because I was Prisoner # "111," and had stopped reporting to the Commandant's Office because they were making me into a "patsy" and mindgaming my fellow prisoners. "When they find me, they are going to grab me and haul me off -- I just want a couple of other people to know the Truth!"
After about 45 minutes of the guards out in the bitter, wind-swept cold & snow, they finally reached my corner of the compound! They grabbed my neck-tag, "Here he is -- THIS is 111!" They slammed my arms down from protecting myself, pushed me around obviously unhappy with me, and dragged me with limp legs off to the Commandant's Office for the harshest "interrogation" of my internment! Knowing that the other prisoners SAW this gave me joy & meaningfulness! A "helpless prisoner" had been able to make some of the guards suffer in the miserably cold camp conditions they were exposing US to. I don't think the loudspeaker Commandant felt so powerful either. Don't Mess With Texas, mo-fo's! This had been spontaneous & unscripted, but I doubt I was the only POW trainee ever to do this throughout the bimonthly Survival courses! They never called me back into the Commandant's Office for interrogation again!
Since that day, the number "111" has always been my lucky number and it keeps showing up mysteriously in my life. And not due to any circumstances I know about or could have controlled or caused! I haven't figured out what supernatural signficance the ongoing, occasional appearance of "111" means, but it IS strangely meaningful. And helps me keep on keeping on!
posted by Richard A @ 9:19 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home