CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
August 1943, Occupied Poland
Mahks Bohle and Erich Von Laursen walked the grounds of Treblinka. No executions had taken place for a week. Instead, the remaining prisoners were ordered to clear the debris from the remnants of the chaotic revolt that had damaged most of the camp.
Bohle showed Von Laursen the compound where the children of the camp had smuggled munitions and small arms in their sacks. He showed him where the first shots were fired on two mercenary Ukrainian guards. He showed him where hundreds of fleeing Jews had been killed by Germans in the machine gun turrets.
And he showed him the various points on the barb-wire fences that the prisoners had torn their flesh on. And escaped.
“How many?” said Von Laursen.
“Initial reports were 300. I’m afraid it could be as many as 600,” said Bohle. “They scattered in a hundred different directions like cockroaches.”
“Major, am I to tell Reichsführer Himmler that we don’t have an exact number?”
“My apologies, General. They burned our records office, and the officer in charge of registration was murdered during the uprising.”
Von Laursen shook his head. He touched the fence and ripped off a piece of clothing that was still dangling from the revolt. He smelled it and inhaled its stench. He did not gag nor flinch. Instead, he choked it in his fist and then threw it back against the fence.
