Man's Search For Meaning - Viktor E. Frankl

EXPERIENCES IN A CONCENTRATION CAMPothers' heads through the bars of the window, I caughtan eerie glimpse of my native town. We all felt moredead than alive, since we thought that our transportwas heading for the camp at Mauthausen and that wehad only one or two weeks to live. I had a distinctfeeling that I saw the streets, the squares and thehouses of my childhood with the eyes of a dead manwho had come back from another world and waslooking down on a ghostly city.After hours of delay the train left the station. Andthere was the street - my street! The young lads whohad a number of years of camp life behind them and forwhom such a journey was a great event stared attentivelythrough the peephole. I began to beg them, toentreat them, to let me stand in front for one momentonly. I tried to explain how much a look through thatwindow meant to me just then. My request wasrefused with rudeness and cynicism: "You lived hereall those years? Well, then you have seen quite enoughalready!"In general there was also a "cultural hibernation" inthe camp. There were two exceptions to this: politicsand religion. Politics were talked about everywhere incamp, almost continuously; the discussions werebased chiefly on rumors, which were snapped up andpassed around avidly. The rumors about the militarysituation were usually contradictory. They followedone another rapidly and succeeded only in making acontribution to the war of nerves that was waged in theminds of all the prisoners. Many times, hopes for aspeedy end to the war, which had been fanned byoptimistic rumors, were disappointed. Some men lost53