Even the gas chambers lost their horrors for him after the first few days—after all, they spared him the act of committing suicide.
Friends whom I have met later have told me that I was not one of those whom the shock of admission greatly depressed.
I only smiled, and quite sincerely, when the following episode occurred the morning after our first night in Auschwitz.
In spite of strict orders not to leave our “blocks,” a colleague of mine,
who had arrived in Auschwitz several weeks previously, smuggled himself into our hut.
He wanted to calm and comfort us and tell us a few things.
He had become so thin that at first we did not recognize him.
With a show of good humor and a devil-may-care attitude he gave us a few hurried tips: “Don’t be afraid!
Don’t fear the selections! Dr. M—— (the SS medical chief) has a soft spot for doctors.”
(This was wrong; my friend’s kindly words were misleading.
One prisoner, the doctor of a block of huts and a man of some sixty years,
told me how he had entreated Dr. M—— to let off his son, who was destined for gas. Dr. M—— coldly refused.)
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