Literotic asexstories – A History Lesson by abroadsword,abroadsword
“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 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.
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