JOURNEYS Mennonite Stories of Faith and Survival in Stalins Russia, John B. Toews, 1998

nally or by reputation. Most thought I had joined the ranks of the enemy since I was really the only Ger¬ man who enjoyed the confidence of the camp administration. This was why, as an accountant acquaintance later explained, I was so coldly received. They found it hard to believe that I, like them, had been stripped of all my civil rights. I finally found a place in the corner of the barrack. How thankful I was for that dark, quiet corner in that evil-smelling barrack. In many ways the day re¬ minded me of my arrest on September 10, 1937. Next morning I awoke to a new time of reckoning which con¬ sisted of a few words — Get up! Breakfast! I stood in line with the rest and marched four abreast past the guards and camp gate. I was given a saw and an axe, which I regarded as a special grace, since these instruments shortened the tediousness of my days .... Initially I did rather well. I was physically strong, owned good clothing and possessed good morale. I still hoped and believed that better days lay ahead and that gave me courage. I produced an amazing number of logs which entitled me to the best camp food in the evening. Unfortunately I was not accustomed to long hours of strenuous work and my physical strength began to de¬ cline. Previously my food was much better. On the third evening I was called to Section III. The chair¬ man, with whom I was previously acquainted, greeted me courte¬ ously and asked me how I was getting along. My answers were rather biting. He said it was up to me to better my lot and that it had not been possible to preserve my anonymity. War regulations demanded our isolation and I best accept my situation. Though his manner was professional I reacted to his condescension .... Our situation gradually worsened and we were all happy when we said goodbye to the camp. We really didn’t know where we were going but felt it could not be any worse. Things certainly did not get better. After a weeks journey under heavy guard we reached our destination. It was a special camp for incorrigible criminals. Each person was carefully searched and anything extra taken away — plates, belts, extra clothing. They shouted and screamed at us as though we were the scum of the earth. We had never experienced such brutal treatment. For night we were packed into a low bar- MEMOIRS OF ARON WARKENTIN 213 rack (semlyankd ). After the experiences of the past several days the future looked extremely dark. Next morning we awoke early and ate a sparse breakfast. Then we marched seven kilometers under heavy guard to our work site. There we marked the trees in our cutting zone and also cleared away all brush on small trees so that the guards could observe us more easily. Then we began to fulfill our work norms. At lunch we were counted and given half a litre of thin soup, after which work resumed. In the evening we marched back (seven kilometers) and received, if we fulfilled our norms, three hundre