(if I may quote a variation of the well-known phrase and title of a book by LeBon),
for the war gave us the war of nerves and it gave us the concentration camp.
As this story is about my experiences as an ordinary prisoner, it is important that I mention, not without pride,
that I was not employed as a psychiatrist in camp, or even as a doctor, except for the last few weeks.
A few of my colleagues were lucky enough to be employed in poorly heated first-aid posts applying bandages made of scraps of waste paper.
But I was Number 119,104, and most of the time I was digging and laying tracks for railway lines.
At one time, my job was to dig a tunnel, without help, for a water main under a road.
This feat did not go unrewarded; just before Christmas 1944, I was presented with a gift of so-called “premium coupons.”
These were issued by the construction firm to which we were practically sold as slaves:
the firm paid the camp authorities a fixed price per day, per prisoner.
The coupons cost the firm fifty pfennigs each and could be exchanged for six cigarettes, often weeks later,
although they sometimes lost their validity. I became the proud owner of a token worth twelve cigarettes.
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