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

ered tones. We were also able to use the regular toilets, even at night. This was very special. The usual prisons always had a terrible odor comprised of sweat, delousing fumes and the toilet pail. I inherited the mechanical division from my predecessor who had served his term. As registrar and record keeper, I was also responsible for distributing the food ration cards. He gave me the following advice: since people were constantly being moved I would have surplus cards each day. One portion belonged to the weak prisoners who were often newcomers. Five-sixth of the cards were to go to Victor, who had only one leg and walked on crutches. This haggard, pale chap was nicknamed “Antichrist,” a bandit and repeat offender. All of his cohorts were kept in an isolation cell awaiting transport to a concentration camp. My predecessor remarked that I was young and inexperienced and dire consequences awaited me if I did not follow his advice. It might cost me my life. I had disagreements with this Victor. Weakened people frequently arrived in the prison and I was re¬ luctant to give ration cards to him .... My sister Helen came to see me twice and brought me several items in the event of fur- ISLAND IN THE STEPPE 109 ther transport — a sheepskin coat, a jacket, good shoes, etc. It was summer and the heat was unbearable. We were given only one pail of water for washing. The boys in our division se¬ cretly built a small shower at the end of a corridor where many pipes crossed. One day about twelve of us rushed to shower after work. Suddenly the guards, swearing and cursing, descended upon us. Stark naked we were lined up in the corridor and chased back and forth. We were soon covered with dirt and rust. The inmates from other areas including women, stood along the walls. At first everyone laughed at the spectacle, but then as people began to fall the women intervened shouting, “You beasts. What are you do¬ ing?” They backed away amid shouts and curses. We were forced to put on our clothes without washing. All stared at me when I returned to my cell. Dyomin, our cell supervisor swore and then said: “No one gets water until I have washed this boy. Agreed!” All lifted a hand. This old man then bathed me like a child and even washed my dirty clothes. Throughout my imprisonment in this cell we had to deal with supervisors and guards who were employed by the military divi¬ sion of the NKVD. There were also regular prison employees well suited for this grim task. Most of them were dull and cruel, de¬ void of any intellect. It was difficult to cope with the awareness that you were a prisoner without any rights. There was not only the sense of moral degradation, but the knowledge that you had to obey every com¬ mand of these beastly men. All the while we were forced to live with hardened criminals. In all the prisons and concentration camps an ongoing war raged between the political prisoners and the criminals.