man-s-search-for-meaning

EXPERIENCES IN A CONCENTRATION CAMP
me childish relief) "who looked so vulgar and brutal
that the nurse in the out-patient ward in my hospital
would not even have admitted him to the waiting
room."
Fortunately the Capo in my working party was
obligated to me; he had taken a liking to me because I
listened to his love stories and matrimonial troubles,
which he poured out during the long marches to our
work site. I had made an impression on him with my
diagnosis of his character and with my psychotherapeutic
advice. After that he was grateful, and this had
already been of value to me. On several previous
occasions he had reserved a place for me next to him
in one of the first five rows of our detachment, which
usually consisted of two hundred and eighty men. That
favor was important. We had to line up early in the
morning while it was still dark. Everybody was afraid
of being late and of having to stand in the back rows. If
men were required for an unpleasant and disliked job,
the senior Capo appeared and usually collected the
men he needed from the back rows. These men had to
march away to another, especially dreaded kind of
work under the command of strange guards. Occasionally
the senior Capo chose men from the first five
rows, just to catch those who tried to be clever. All
protests and entreaties were silenced by a few wellaimed
kicks, and the chosen victims were chased to
the meeting place with shouts and blows.
However, as long as my Capo felt the need of
pouring out his heart, this could not happen to me. I
had a guaranteed place of honor next to him. But there
was another advantage, too. Like nearly all the camp
inmates I was suffering from edema. My legs were so
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