(8) Saved by the skin

In the beginning, the whole family was really nasty to me, I was just a slave. There were about 16 or so dairy cows on the farm, so one of my jobs was to work the little cutting machine that was used to cut up Turnips, and similar to make cattle feed. I had a pitchfork, and just pitched the turnips up and put them in the grinder.

Well, old Rottlander didn't think I was doing this fast enough, and he regularly beat me with the yard broom, shouting "Faster, Faster!" Well after four or five days of this I was hating the man and looking for an opportunity to get him back, but I knew if I retaliated they would hand me over to the SS. I was given the job of looking after the cows as his two cattlemen had been called up for the forces. I had to feed the calves, fattening them up so that they could be taken to the market.

One day, Rottlander came to me and told me that I should not feed one particularly fat calf that day, as someone was coming to collect it for market. In those days, all the cattle from the farm were sent to market, to "feed the Reich," and the farmers were paid. No farmers were allowed to sell or trade any of their own.

Later that evening I watched him heading out to the forest with a spade in his hand, and as I watched, he began to dig a hole. I though to myself,

"what's he up to?"

I started making connections. "Don't feed that calf today" Well after midnight, I heard a noise again, and I saw old Rottlander heading out towards his hole with a bundle under his arms. Suspicion got the better of me, I just had to know what he was carrying. I crept downstairs to the outside toilet.

I walked over the cowshed, and saw as I suspected the fat calf had gone. I realised that Rottlander must have killed and skinned the calf to sell on the Black Market. In Germany at that time things were very strict, and you had to have permission from the government to kill animals. If you did it without permission, they'd most likely hang you or put you in prison.

He was burying the skin! Now I had something on the nasty little man!

I carried on with my work with the cows, milking morning and evening, getting up at 6am to milk the cows, taking the big milk churns out to the main road for the collection lorry, in the morning.

Rottlander was a slight man, I think if you kicked him he would blow away, but his temper tantrums continued, urging me to go "Faster, Faster". One particular day, I think someone had upset him down in Overath, and he was looking for someone to take his frustration out on. He came up to me shouting,

"Faster, faster"

and took his yard broom to me in a way he'd never done before.

"Swine Pole! When we've won this war, you're all finished!"

Well he was beating me so much, I think the survival instinct kicked in, and I lashed out at him with my pitchfork and knocked him to the ground. I hit him two or three time more, and stood over him.

"You Bastard"

he shouted, and got up and went back to the house where his telephone was.

Well I knew what was going to happen now, and sure enough, in 20 minutes the police van arrived, and three SS men got out. Black uniform, death's head on the lapels, the genuine article.

"Come with us!"

One grabbed me by the collar, kicked me in the small of the back and bundled me in to the van.

"You are under arrest for trying to kill a citizen of the Reich"

They took me down to the SS headquarters in Overath, and threw me in a filthy, tiny concrete cell with water dripping from the roof.

"In three or four days you'll be hanged. Not shot, because the rope is cheaper than bullets. We need bullets for the war, but a rope can hang many people, it's cheaper."

"Well at least it will be quick and finish my suffering", I thought

I was wet, cold and hungry and I was wondering where Jesus was now? I prayed; I've always prayed throughout my life.

After 3 days in the cell, The SS called Rottlander to come in and sign a statement saying what I'd done, so that I could be hanged. The Germans never did anything without the correct documentation. The Guard came up to me and joked with me

"Your boss is here to see you!

Rottlander and I stood in the cell while the two Gestapo men, were just outside the door. I realised that I'd nothing to lose now, so I leaned over to him and whispered in his ear.

"Hey, Mr Rottlander, what about that calf skin? We'll be all hanging together if I tell these men what I saw!"

Well, his face went white, and I'm sure I saw the sweat burst out on his brow, I thought he was going to collapse. He knew that he would be hanged or shot as well.

"That skin will be there, in that hole"

I went on,

"You might have put a few leaves over it, but I could take them to it and show them."

At this point one of the Gestapo men came in with the statement in his hand.

"Please sign here Herr Rottlander"

I looked at Rottlander, and he spluttered,

"I've changed my mind! I'll take him back on the farm, I need the workers"

The Gestapo man looked at him, then at me and said,

"What if he tries to kill you again, he's a Pole! These Poles are rough people!

"No, Sorry for wasting your time, I'll take him back."

We went back in the car to the farm without a word. He dropped me off, told me to get back to work and walked over to his wife, Maria, who had come out to meet us. He told her what had happened, and Maria came over to me looking angry. This big woman stood in front of me, hands on hips and said,

"Czeslaw, how could you tell those lies about my husband?"

"It's not a lie, it's the truth", I replied, "do you want me to go get a spade and dig it up to show you?

Maria told me to go in to the room where us foreigners eat our food, and she came back a few minutes later with a sandwich and sat down next to me. She could see that I'd not eaten properly for days. Rottlander came in and sat down and we talked small-talk for a while until Rottlander looked at me and said that we should agree to say nothing more about the incident, unless I wanted both of us to be hanging from ropes together.

Well from that day onwards, I was treated much better on the farm. I was a good man from then onwards, "Chassa" they called me.

No more "Faster, Faster" no more beatings, and I turned a blind eye to Herr Rottlander's black market activities.