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“Berger! Berger! You fucking moron!!”
“Hauptscharführer!” the Unterscharführer called back.
“What is that fucking monkey still doing on that machine?” he screamed, spittle spraying from his mouth. “Where is that fucking idiot Zimmermann? I told him to tell you. Get rid of him now or I’ll do it myself.”
“But Hauptscharführer, it will take too long to train –”
“Don’t give me that shit again Berger!” He pointed at Hersh.
“You! Get down off that machine!” He drew his CZ P27 pistol, cocked it and waved it wildly around. Hersh immediately leapt to the ground. He knew better than to argue with the Hauptscharführer.
“You!” He now pointed to one of the bone shovellers. “Get up there and make this fucking thing work or I’ll shoot you where you stand!” He turned to the Unterscharführer. “Don’t stand there with your mouth open! Take him away and get rid of him!”
The Unterscharführer grabbed Hersh by the scruff of the neck and dragged him towards the far exhumed pit. “I’m sorry Hersh, I’m sorry.”
Behind them, they heard a shot and the Hauptscharführer shouting: “Move, you piece of shit! You’ve been fucking promoted.”
Berger glanced over his shoulder and saw a second bone shoveller climb onto the machine and scramble over the body of the first. Breaking into a run, he pulled the stumbling Hersh with him.
Forcing him to his knees on reaching the edge of the pit, Berger hissed: “Fall into the pit when I tell you. Don’t fuck up and stay still, it’ll be dark soon. It’s your only chance.” Hersh stared down at the top layer of soil splattered decaying bodies. He was oblivious to the nauseating smell; he’d been there too long.
Berger cocked his pistol, pushed Hersh’s head forward, stepped back and called: “Now!”
Hearing the report of the gun, Hauptscharführer Sauer turned to see just another Jew tumbling into a pit. He smiled and turned his attention back to the Knochenmühle.
“If you want to live another fucking day keep that machine going!” he screamed at Hersh’s replacement. The remaining shovellers feverishly fed the insatiable monster. “Work you scum! Clear those fucking bones!”
From the layered funeral pyres, black, fetid smoke billowed over the darkening field and through the adjacent woods. Jacob Hersh lay perfectly still. He’d no idea why Berger had done it.
This was Sonderkommando 1005, Chelmno, January 1945.