Forty Days at Kamas by Preston Fleming Read Free Book Online Page A

Someone remarked that the guards had warned Lillian many times to keep her distance from the wire, but this time they had not bothered with courtesies. Even in the context of a corrective labor camp, such a brazen act of premeditated murder outraged every prisoner who learned of it. Eyewitnesses circulated through the yard to retell the story and embellish it along the way.
    As the news spread, less and less snow was shoveled. Portions of the entrance roads, walkways, and assembly areas had still not been cleared as the sun set and the first column of prisoners returned from worksites outside the camp. Mills cursed at us to keep working and shoved several idlers whose shovels remained at their sides but he stopped short of using his nightstick. The prisoners stood their ground and refused to work. Meanwhile, the guards surveyed the scene warily from the towers.
    Mills returned after a few minutes with Renaud and six additional warders wielding ax handles. Behind them was a black–uniformed DSS officer whom I had seen during the march from the railway station. It was Major Jack Whiting, the camp's security chief. Whiting stepped ahead of the two warders carrying a battery–powered bullhorn and stopped at the very spot where Lillian had fallen.
    "Listen up, prisoners," he said through the bullhorn. "I see that some of you have stopped working. In this camp, those who don't work don’t eat. Nor do they sleep. Nor do they get shelter from the cold or other privileges. Until your work is finished, you will stay here in this yard and receive no evening ration. I will be back in one hour to check on your progress."
    As soon as Whiting lowered the bullhorn and turned to leave, the warders moved among us in pairs, whacking any prisoner who did not make a vigorous display of shoveling. They bashed a dozen or more of us to the ground before they succeeded in breaking the informal work stoppage. After that we worked slowly but without interruption, taking extra care to stay away from the wire.
    An hour later, the shoveling was completed to Whiting's satisfaction, even though the wind had by now scattered much of the piled snow across the camp yard once more. The warders looked on impassively as we lined up to receive our second meal bar of the day and our permanent barracks assignments. When the last man had received his ration, we were dismissed to report to our new barracks. I looked for Roesemann without success. I was beyond exhaustion, beneath depression. Having no energy left for anything other than claiming a bunk, I set out to find my new home in Barracks C–14.
    By the time I arrived, no vacant berths were left. Too tired and cold even to get angry, I found a space on the floor under a bed near the center of the room, gnawed at my ration bar and settled in for the night. Lights went out moments later. I had survived my first day in camp but the experience had been far from reassuring. And tomorrow showed no sign of being any easier.
    The last thing I heard before falling asleep was a muffled cry, a momentary creaking of a nearby bed, and the sound of bare feet dropping to the floor and padding quickly across the room. Whatever they were doing to each other sounded dreadful, but I was too spent to care.

 
     
     
    C HAPTER 5
     
    "Reactionaries must be deprived of the right to voice their opinions. Only the people have that right."
—Mao Zedong
     
    THURSDAY, MARCH 7
     
    When Claire opened her eyes, she found herself curled between crisp white sheets. She wore the fresh T–shirt Helen had given her and clutched in one arm the gray velour elephant that had traveled in her backpack all the way from Philadelphia. Her body was shivering and when she closed her eyes she remembered that she had been dreaming about last night’s walk through the snowy hills and her encounter with the men in orange overalls.
    In her dream, she thought she had recognized her father among the column of prisoners and had tried to pursue him through