A History Lesson

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The bus had taken us 50 kilometers east from Kraków in Poland to the museum of the holocaust at Auschwitz-Birkenau. Many buses, several taking our party and others with other groups dropped us and we walked to the iron gate crowned with the motto “Arbeit macht frei”. “Three Million Jews walked through this gateway to die” lied the guide

“My Grandfather was here,” I muttered to no one in particular, I remembered when he told me of it, a lovely gentle man with his collection of Cuckoo clocks.

“All my family,also,” said a girl with long dark hair misunderstanding what I meant.

I looked around, so many dark hairs, the big noses, girls and boys, I felt suddenly out of place with my blonde hair and blue eyes .

“Schultz” My teacher had shouted, “If you think dressing up like a Nazi and doing Nazi salutes is funny then you can take the school trip to see the Nazi extermination camps in Germany.” She threatened to expel me!

She was stupid, most Nazi extermination camps were in occupied Poland Auschwitz-Birkenau was the largest of Nazi Germany’s concentration and extermination camps and it was in Poland approximately 160 miles south of Warsaw.

I looked around my companions, I had not made any friends among them, my mother had dragged me first to America and then to England away from my beloved father when I was young and we had moved from town to town as she had thrown herself at a variety of men until she became convinced I needed to stay in one place to finish school. Maidstone Kent she chose, what a dump.

“I am eighteen,” I told her in September, on my birthday, “I do not wish to continue my studies.” but she threatened to withdraw my allowance and take away my car so I had to continue.

It was Easter when we went on our trip, in the school holidays, a trip for year 12 and 13 pupils so we could see the horrors of the Nazis, I think only myself and one girl from my school went among the hundred and more who made up out party.

“Here will you see the way the Nazi’s killed their victims some in the gas chambers and others by systematic starvation, forced labor, lack of disease control, individual executions, and purported “medical experiments”. The guide told us.

I knew this, it gets boring after a while, I looked around imagining. and there in the group I saw this angel, her hair golden in the sunlight, her beautiful blue eyes staring back at me, I imagined the group around her as like internees waiting to go to hell but she was a jarring glimpse of beauty, I just stared.

“Kevin, pay attention, you will have to tell year Ten about this when we get home.” Miss Johnsson nagged me. It was my bad luck that my history teacher had to be with our party as a chaperone.

“One point one million not three.” I muttered, “The man’s a fool.” I imagined Miss Johnsson waiting to be stripped naked by smartly uniformed SS guards. she was shapeless in her cardigan but she sometimes supervised swimming and I knew she was far from flat chested and quite young, well twenty five perhaps, but not fifty.

“Over thirty million visitors have passed through this iron gate crowned with the motto “Arbeit macht frei”. or in English “work makes one free”. our guide continued.

I tried to get closer to the golden haired girl, I wanted to speak with her, to find where she was from, what were her likes her dislikes, was she Swedish like my Mother, or a Dane, or Bavarian by origin, I did no want to know about Auschwitz one or two or three, I knew Auschwitz II (Birkenau) was an extermination camp or Vernichtungslager, and was the site of the deaths of at least 960,000 Jews, 75,000 Poles, and some 19,000 Roma (Gypsies).

I knew it was the largest of all the Nazi extermination camps. and Auschwitz III (Monowitz) served as a labor camp for the Buna-Werke factory of the IG Farben concern. Big deal, |I wanted to know her name, her email, her phone number, god, she might not even live in England.

“The prisoners who left the camp during the day for construction or farm labor were made to march through this gate to the sounds of an orchestra.” The old fool continued. “Contrary to what is depicted in several films, the majority of the Jews were imprisoned in the Auschwitz II camp, and did not pass under this sign.”

I raised my hand “What music did they play?”

“Schultz don’t be so impertinent.” Miss Johnsson embarrassed me.

“You miss the point young man, the Germans made our people play beautiful music while they tortured us.”

My Grandfather told me they often played the “Beer Barrel Polka,” and “In Munchen est ein Hoffbrau Hause” among Viennese waltzes. He wished so often he could join in, but his trumpet playing was not sadly good enough, or so he thought.

He, my grandfather, he played Jazz trumpet until the Nazis banned Jazz or at least music above high C, that was his speciality, the high notes on the A flat or D trumpet, he had a Besson and a Hochner Eb/D made in Koln, four rotary valves, no black man could play Jazz Trumpet better yet he was discriminated against because her was not black and his life ruined as a consequence of his colour, a kind gentle soul he was broken by his origins, it was so unfair.

“Schultz, stop trying to slip away.” Miss Johnsson again humiliated me with her criticism, she barely five feet eight in her high heels me six feet two, yet she behaved as if she were in control.

I regretted my religion, “Never strike a woman.” was written, my mother’s religion, the Bretheren, one I obeyed while she conveniently forgot the section on adultery, or did she only drop her underpants for married men, perhaps that was it, if she was married, well divorced, and so was he, then perhaps she saw no problem, Black White Yellow, all men were equally welcome in my mothers knickers.

I looked again at the golden haired girl and saw she was hiding her face with her hand as she laughed at me, but her eyes sparkled with interest.

The old fool was speaking again ” See the double fences, each with two layers of barbed wire, separating the administration part of the camp on our right with the prison camp on our left.” I stared at the wire, sixty years old and still in fine condition fine German engineering.

“The SS selected some prisoners, often German criminals, as specially privileged supervisors of the other inmates called kapos,” Our guide lectured us, “and although involved in numerous atrocities, only two were ever prosecuted for their individual behavior as they had little choice about their actions.” He lied, of course they had choices, death, I should choose to die before I did such things.

On he droned “The various classes of prisoners could be distinguished by special marks on their clothes; Jews were treated the worst. All inmates had to work in the factories, except on Sundays, which were reserved for cleaning and showering and upon which there were no work assignments.”

They had Holidays, when English workers were working seven days a week in the Spitfire factories, at Woolstone near Southampton seventy three hour weeks, on night shift, I knew this, and I was not as impressed as Miss Johnsson expected.

He led us to the buildings, I was a model of politeness, slipping in beside the blonde beauty, “Hello,” I said hopefully.

“Hi,” she replied and then we walked together in silent companionship.

The situation was not ideal for making small talk as the old bursa merkez escort bayan fool continued “The harsh work requirements, combined with poor nutrition and hygiene, led to high death rates among the prisoners.” He showed us the standing cells five feet square, four inmates would be left, all night, unable to do anything but stand up.

“But how would they use the bathroom?” someone asked,

“Bannerman, you moron take this seriously.” A teacher boomed and he fell silent.

I felt the golden haired girls shoulder against my arm, she wore a warm padded jacket, and a long skirt reaching to her knees, with long black leather boots, pointed toes and high heels. not military boots, and a mere few inches of stockinged legs was visible between skirt and boots.

“Obviously they made sure they went before they were locked in.” The teacher continued.

The old fool gave him a withering look, obviously they couldn’t go twelve hours without, could they.

“Kevin, I’m Kevin, Kevin Schultz,” I told her.

“Carla Witke” she replied, “Are you American?”

“Yes, but I live in Maidstone.” I replied

“Oh I’m from Gillingham.” she said in a not unpleasant soft English Kent accent before we had to listen to the lecture once more.

“Below us there were “starvation cells”, prisoners were locked in and were given neither food nor water until they were dead.” The fool continued, “Can you imagine anything so cruel and inhuman?”

I could, and indeed had often wished to incarcerate my teachers in such facilities.

He continued “Also in the basement were the “dark cells”; these cells had only a very tiny airtight window, and a solid airtight door. Prisoners placed in these cells would gradually suffocate as they used up all of the oxygen in the cell; sometimes the SS would light a candle in the cell to use up the oxygen more quickly.”

“You must realise just how depraved these Germans, I mean Nazi’s were.” The old fool continued his drone, I noticed his Freudian slip, he too was German, as was I yet the Jews still sought to demonise the Germans.

“They would hang people, tie their hands behind their backs and then hang them by their hands thus dislocating their shoulder joints, and let them hang for hours, or even days.”

“Imagine,” said Carla.

“SSssssh.” someone told us.

The criminals who stole bread from their friends were hung by the Kapos I knew this.

“This was the execution yard, some prisoners who were thought to merit individual execution were shot against that wall others suffered a more lingering death by being suspended from hooks set in two wooden posts, which also still exist but displayed in the Museum.” The guide continued.

“It’s spooky.” Carla whispered, “Will you hold my hand?”

“My pleasure.” I replied, I wanted to raise her hand to my lips and kiss it, but I did not wish to seem forward.

We walked onwards, among buildings as the guide still droned on. “On September 3, 1941, deputy camp commandant SS-Hauptsturmführer Fritzsch experimented on 600 Russian’s and 250 sick Polish inmates by gassing them with Zyklon B, a highly lethal cyanide based pesticide.”

The stupid ones who knew nothing of history gasped, Carla squeezed my hand.

The guide continued, “This paved the way for the use of Zyklon B as an instrument for extermination at Auschwitz, and a gas chamber and crematorium were constructed by converting a bunker. This gas chamber operated from 1941 to 1942, during which time some 60,000 people were killed in it; it was then converted into an air-raid shelter for the use of the SS. This gas chamber still exists, we shall see and experience a similar facility later.”

There was a gasp from some of our number

“But first we see the remains of Crematorium two, In early 1943, the Nazis decided to increase greatly the gassing capacity of Birkenau. Crematorium II, originally designed as a mortuary, it was converted into a killing factory by placing a gas-tight door on the morgues and adding vents for Zyklon B and ventilation equipment to remove the gas.”

It was a remarkable feat of chemistry and engineering, Carla smiled at me and I at her.

“By June 1943 all four crematoria were working. Most victims were killed during a period afterwards.” with this the guide stopped his rant and a woman started to harangue us as we walked among the buildings.

“Here we have some of the warehouses where the belongings of the arrivals were seized by the SS.” she told us, “they were sorted in an area of the camp called “Canada”. Many of the SS at the camp enriched themselves by pilfering the confiscated property of the Jews. The name Canada came from the time when Polish emigrants were sending gifts home from Canada.”

Carla held my hand more firmly, it seemed strange, we were the only light haired people among the group it seemed, and we felt hostility towards us.

The woman guide continued “but here.” she continued, “Is a room full of human hair shaved from the inmates.”

It was a huge room full of something fibrous, hair straw, who could tell? but there was no mistake in the next room, spectacles hundreds or thousands of pairs of spectacles,

Some people went quite white, I retained my composure as I am sure my Grandfather did in his time as around us people struggled.

“My family was here,” said one and another, “That might be my families hair.”

“My Grandfather was here,” I told Carla. quietly.

“I thought so.” she replied, “My Fathers Father also.”

The guide continued, “See the false teeth also.”

A huge mound of teeth grinning hideously at us. “As you see the property of Jewish deportees were stored here before being sent to Germany or used by the SS.” the Woman continued, “For the next stage of our tour we shall role play the processing of prisoners, don’t worry we shall not make you strip or Gas you.”

“Prisoners were transported from all over German-occupied Europe by rail, and on arrival at the complex were separated into two main groups – those marked for immediate extermination, and those to be registered as prisoners.” She told us. A chill fell over our group, I wondered about my grandfather’s emotions all those years ago.

” The first group, about three-quarters of the total, went to the gas chambers they included all children, all women with children, all the elderly, and all those who were not fully fit.” She continued and led us through a set of doors, long benches and sets of coat hooks were laid out. like a sports hall changing room yet much bigger.

“SS personnel told the victims that they were to take a shower and undergo delousing. The victims would undress in this outer chamber and walk into the gas chamber, which was disguised as a shower facility, complete with dummy shower heads. It’s through here come.”

Carla clung to my hand, it was awkward, I was thinking of all the people stripping and going naked to the chamber, were they mixed men and women, I imagined the dark haired girls undressing, and the boys not for sex but for death, would they have become excited, even if only men or women only had stripped together would the Homosexuals and Lesbians become aroused, I realised my penis was swelling, and an embarrassing bulge appeared in my pants.

“It’s so intense,” said Carla, “Imagine being naked waiting to die.”

“They bursa merkez escort bayan thought it was a shower,” I told her. “It was not until the chamber that they realised they would die.”

“But alone, alone in a crowd with strangers, naked.” she continued, “How would they feel?”

“They might make friends like we have become friends,” I tentatively suggested.

“Yes” she said. but her hand grazed across my crotch and my excitement was clear to her.

“It turns me on too.” she admitted, “When there is nothing more to come, when you no longer can control your circumstances you seek comfort, I think it is instinct.”

“So Ladies and Gentlemen, You would have undressed here and then either by free will or sometimes with blows from the Kapo’s clubs, you would walk through to the chamber, see the shower heads, even the dribble of water from some of them, come.” Our guide suggested.

We walked through the doors into the chamber, the dummy shower heads so convincing, “Come right in.” The guides suggested.

We crammed in, I found a corner for Carla and myself, all hundred crowded in, “The Nazi’s pushed two hundred fifty even three hundred at one time, here we are one hundred, but the space is already uncomfortable.”

I faced Carla, I tried but I could not avoid being pushed against her, her breasts touched against my chest and my bulge nudged her belly. “Naughty Boy” she giggled. she reached up and kissed me.

It was like heaven, such a sweet kiss, in such a place.

“The doors would shut Clang.” our guide said and she pulled the door shut. “And after the doors were shut, SS men would dump in the cyanide pellets through holes in the roof and in ten fifteen minutes all would be dead, I ask you to think what that would feel like.”

I kissed Carla. Thee Woman continued ” More than 20,000 people could be gassed and cremated here each day. The Nazis used a cyanide gas produced from Zyklon B pellets, made by IG Farben.”

I held Carla in my arms, our kisses more passionate, the feeling that we were to die so real,

“And then the lights went out also, so imagine.” The guide flipped the light switch.

We were cloaked in darkness, “Do it.” Carla said.

“What?” I replied incredulously

“You want to, I can feel, I want to, it is fate.” she husked.

I heard and felt my zipper, the cool air on my erection and her fingers teasing it from my pants. “No the lights will be on soon.” I said

“Then put it in me, don’t you feel the destiny.” Carla muttered, “Please it feels so right.”

She had twisted her skirt so the rear vent was in front and her panties were to one side, I stooped and with both hands she guided me inside her, she was tight yet running with juices and I jabbed hard at her, a small cry soon stifled and I was inside her, “I never did this before.” I apologised,

“What in a concentration camp.” she asked.

“No in a girl.” I said.

“Nor did I,” she said, “with a boy I mean.” suddenly my juices were overflowing and a gush shot up far into her. I held myself hard against her as my penis throbbed.

“My Grandfather said they found Jews locked together in death when men and women were together.” she whispered.

“Mine said they found homosexuals locked together.” I agreed as I slid from her, I wiped her with my handkerchief and tried to clean my penis also, it was not easy in the darkness

“He survived?” she asked

“Oh yes, did yours?” I asked, “Oh of course he did.”

She had turned her skirt and I had fastened my trousers when the lights came on.

I saw some girls had fainted, others we ghostly white while just Carla and I were flushed with the healthy glow of love.

“Carla,” I whispered, “If you are pregnant I’ll marry you.”

“And if not?” she replied

“Yes still the same.” I agreed,

“All right, outside everyone outside.” the guide ordered.

We went outside and I stared up at the watch tower.

“My Grandfather worked there,” I pointed to the watchtower “Waffen SS.” I prayed she would forgive me.

“Mine was in the Gestapo, special interrogation officer,” She whispered. “I knew you had to be on our side.”

We stayed together for more of the lectures the man started to drone again “Those deemed fit to work were used as slave labor at industrial factories for such companies as IG Farben and Krupp. At the Auschwitz complex 405,000 prisoners were recorded as slaves between 1940 and 1945.Of these about 340,000 perished through executions, beatings, starvation, and sickness.”

We had the chance to ask questions, “Why did they kill the Jews.?” someone asked but was fobbed off. Ten per cent of population, ninety per cent of wealth, my grandfather said, that was why Germany suffered so badly after the war.

Carla stood by me, my arm around her waist protectively, wishing I could whisk her away to privacy for love making once more, perhaps the human hair shed, I imagined its softness against my skin, Grandfather said the SS officers often took their women there, they would pick one for a week or so and keep her like a princess before she was processed, they thought they were saved then, suddenly, they were in the huts with the rest.

Too soon we had to part, each bus group separated and roll call called “Smallman,” Yes Miss” “Schultz” “Ja” I don’t know why I said it but there was a sudden hush

“Schultz, I warned you,” Miss Johnsson admonished me once more and then with our addresses and phone numbers exchanged we climbed on to our individual buses to return towards home.

I sat satisfied, day dreaming of my girl, and I missed the questions Miss Johnsson asked.

“Schultz, what do you think?” she asked.

“What?” I replied irritably.

“Pay attention, what would it be like in the camps?” she snapped

“Cold in the wind on the watchtower.” I suggested.

My companions laughed, they mistook my honesty for humour.

“I meant for the inmates.” she said.

“How the hell would I know, I’m no Jew.” I told her.

“Schultz, you cannot say these things.” she screamed “It could just as easily have been the English.indeed very easily.”

“Never, the English would never give up, they would die before they helped fill the gas chambers, it was the Kapos who kept the camps running, cleared the trains from the platform to avoid delays, any slow down would have caused delays and saved their fellow Jews yet they worked like dogs to stay alive.”

I knew all eyes were upon me, I sat rigid, sitting to attention, I could see the surprise on their faces, yet I knew that I had won the argument, I should not feel shame at my forefathers achievements, I felt pride at the efficiency of the operation and I knew that I could never raise my hand to a fellow man.

“I shall have to inform the head master of your attitude.” she said but she seemed uncomfortable, her dark eyes fixated upon mine. I looked away and returned to my thoughts.

My Grandfather had told me about it, how he disobeyed orders to shoot inmates as the climbed onto and became stuck in the barbed wire, screaming and shouting as the barbs ripped them open as they slid slowly and agonisingly down, he would shoot to the head, bang, always one shot. Only one then silence. He was a kind man my grandfather.

He had told of the cold, the midnight roll calls, standing altıparmak escort guarding the inmates, knowing at any second they could turn, he could shoot yes but against so many, and the machine guns could not be used discriminately, all would die until the ammo ran out and then the survivors must overwhelm them, yet they stood in the freezing cold, chilled even through the thick winter uniforms and long woolen under trousers, their bodies grown flabby through inaction, twelve hours sixteen even in the watchtower, the two hours sleep and then roll call.

It was inhuman, at least the inmates got exercise, marching out of the camp to a stirring march or polka to march three miles to the factory while he froze inactive in the watch tower.

They had a little dog “Fritzl” he used to steal bread from the kitchens, he was a funny little fellow, mongrel, espaniol long eared brown and white but one day they found his head and bones, the inmates had eaten little Fritzl.

The culprits never owned up, “Shoot them all” my grandfather said to the Commandant.

“Schultz, calm down.” he said sympathising.

“A hundred, choose a hundred.” my Grandfather said, “Shoot them!”

“Schultz, bullets do not grow on trees, but there is a hut committee for the hut where Fritzl was found so we shall hang them instead.”

“I must hide my disappointment and respect your decision.” My grandfather had said and walked slowly away. He could never own a dog after that, it scarred his gentle soul.

The journey passed slowly, I saw Carla’s face in every passing tree or telephone pole. in every car or shop window, I was infatuated, I had fucked at last, it was too quick yes, and only a straight fuck but I had seen many pornos and there was much much more for me to explore and enjoy, I was sure of this.

We had some time to explore the little town before a late dinner, then like children we were sent to bed at Ten, Miss Johnsson came to my room. “Schutz, I shall ask Winklemann to move in with Smallman and you must move to the Winklemann’s room, I am worried about your attitude compromising Smallmans thoughts.

I was pleased, I liked my own room, I knew she planned it as punishment and that made it all the sweeter.

I moved my things, the new room was small but had a double bed not two singles, it was at the end of a corridor next to a store room and over the kitchens, the ceiling was low, old fashioned low oak beams and white plaster, an old polished oak floor, with rugs not fitted carpets.

It had it’s own little bathroom, and when I was finished having a shit I came out to find Miss Johnsson in the room.

“Schultz, what is it with this attitude, you are like you were in the SS.” she asked earnestly.

“My Grandfather was at Aushwitz.” I told her.

“So why this animosity towards your fellow Jews.” she asked earnestly

“I am not Jewish!” I said firmly yet politely.

“So why was he there if not a Jew, was he a thief or Homosexual, or maybe a Gypsy?” she asked stupidly.

“He was a guard you stupid bitch!” I snapped.

“And that is your role model?” she replied her anger rising, “You think you are better than everyone else because you have blonde hair and beautiful piercing blue eyes.” she continued, “You are cold and unfeeling and passionless, yet you seem inspired by Nazism.”

“I am not without passion.” I said in measured tones.

“You have no girlfriend except perhaps that slut you met today, My Barry thinks you are gay, he was going to ask you out!” she accused.

“I am not gay, it is my religion,” I told her, “except today, in the dark, in the gas chamber, I found happiness.”

“I heard you, she wanked you off.” she accused, “Took your penis in her hand or was it mouth and made you spill your seed uselessly, don’t deny it!”

I did not deny it but it was a fuck not a wank.

“And suddenly you are a big man, one wank and you are like Hitler all over again,” she snarled, yet I sensed something, “I should be frightened, a great big Aryan storm Trooper, me alone with a great broad shouldered brute of an Aryan storm trooper, locked in a hotel room.” she complained.

I was stupid still I did not understand.

“Waiting to be raped, scared, terrified, too frightened to scream.” she tried to draw a picture.

“I think you should go, I have on my Pyjamas only under the bathrobe,” I said realising I was talking in a strange stilted Hollywood German accent, “while you,” I looked at her, her black skirt came halfway down to her knee as she sat on the bed, her soft breasts filled her white blouse and the outline of her black bra was unmistakable.

“You are the SS officer and I the poor innocent local girl,” she suggested, “Put yourself in my place, would you fight?”

“I think, it would be futile.” I said.

“So Herr Major, what would you do.” she asked taunting me.

“I don’t know, Miss Johnsson.” I answered, “I have almost no experience of sex.”

“That’s what teachers are for, come here.” she ordered, and she undid cords on my bathrobe and pyjamas allowing my penis to spring free then she pulled up her skirt to show her pussy, it was covered with soft downy golden hair, yet the slit below glistened,

“Just stick it in me Golden boy.” she suggested, “I heard Carla say that.”

“What about Condoms?” I asked.

“Don’t be silly, I’m not diseased!” she responded and then she pulled me down, her hand grasped my prick and it was sliding within her,

“Ok, calm down, it’s not a race.” she ordered, “Nice slow strokes,” I wanted to see her tits so I started to undo her blouse, she seemed pleased and raised herself off the bed so I could undo her bra, I could not manage so I popped her tits out of their cups instead, her nipples were very prominent, standing like little bullets.

I smiled at her, “Harder, you can fuck me harder if you like.” she said wistfully.

“No I think I prefer to savour the moment.” I replied as I gently moved myself within her hot wet slippery vagina.

“Kevin, please thrust harder make me cum.” she asked.

“Beg for it,” I demanded “can I call you bitch.? Miss?”

“Not in class please Kevin,” she chuckled, “but please, don’t mess around, make it special for me.”

How could I resist, but as soon as I thrusted harder into her the boiling in my balls started, the churning swelling need for release and as she gasped once with pleasure I started desperately to try to hold back.

“It’s ok Kevin, fill me with your cum, it’s all right don’t hold.” she gasped as I had to let go, the great spurt of cum shooting within her, “Ooh,” she gasped as she realised the great quantity of fluids I had produced, “Oh hell.” she groaned as the spunk dripped and slurped onto the bedclothes.

“I must get back to my room,” she announced, but I put my arms around her and held her.

“No, come to bed properly, let me take your shoes and brassiere off and we can lay together”
I suggested,

“No Kevin, I must get back.” she said but my penis was stirring again, I held her tight and bent her over the bed face down, her cunt now swollen and red from use gaped invitingly and I eased inside from behind her, I undid the brassiere strap and cupped her breasts, then I whispered in her ear. “If I report you lose your job, you are my slave now.”

“And you get expelled, I don’t think so.” she smiled and slid from my room like a wraith, gliding ghost like along the corridor.

I dreamed troubled dreams of confusion, I wondered how I could reconcile my thoughts could I be my teachers lover, or should I seek out Carla for my mate, all I knew was my life had changed, my education was, I thought, complete.

To be Continued?

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