Dachau: The Harrowing of Hell

8. The Russians

8 THE RUSSIANS The Russian leader, a civilian, is either inefficient or lacks authority . We decide this on our next visit to the camp, when we discover that nobody has collected population figures and that no work is being done except by the sentries and the camp doctor . Rosenbloom decides to replace the civilian with a POW. He assembles the POWs, and they designate a young captain as their spokesman, whom Rosenbloom accepts as the new head. The Russian officer does not waste time. He makes a brief, loud statement, and almost miraculously kitchen, garbage disposal, and latrine cleaning details begin to function. Apparently the Russian people, like the Germans, respect or fear military authorities . The camp physician is Dr. Musenko, a thin and weary middle -aged man. Assisted by his wife, he conducts a busy sick call. Every morning I work with him and tell him about the new sulfonamide drugs and about penicillin, the panacea. He receives this information with proper amazement, but is kind or tactful enough not to show the skepticism he must feel. Next to his dispensary is a primitive operating room containing a wooden table and a few instruments; it is clean and light-and warm, because he has cleverly insulated the walls with packing box material. His greatest need is for bandages; for a long time he has been using coarse paper as a substitute. He has no sedatives, only a small quantity of morphine, and almost no codeine. I notice that he sits behind his desk and rarely rises; his wife does all the physical work. He coughs often and I realize that he has intense chest pain. Frequently the pain must become unbearable . I watch him grimace and then break open an ampoule and 541 quickly swallow its contents. Afterward, he seems to feel better, but the effect wears off in two or three hours and he has to open another ampoule. He also prescribes the same drug for his patients. I ask him what it is, but I do not entirely understand his reply-his German is better than mine. I think it is an opiate, but I am not familiar with its use in this form. I recall De Quincy's Confessions ofan English Opium Eater, and I have read that powdered opium (laudanum) and opium tincture can be taken by mouth, but I thought this practice was obsolete. I cannot find any evidence to support the rumor that the doctor is a chronic alcoholic. I note that he is familiar with one of the early sulfonamides, because he has a tube of prontosil which he tells me is "good for bad throats." I present him with five tubes of sulfathiazole ointment which I have obtained from a philanthropic medical unit that passed through Schwabach last night. Dr. Musenko will be delighted after using them on skin infections. We talk about other things as well, particularly about books, and he turns out to be an admirer of the writings of Edgar Allen Poe, John Ruskin, and Herbert Spencer. I hear a little about Kiev, a colorful, historic city with ancient churches and monasteries, and a famous eleventh-century gate that partially survived the forays and incursions of invaders. A city that suffered from repeated Jewish pogroms. After its capture by the Nazis, its citizens learned what it was like to be butchered. Dr. Musenko and his wife survived the initial occupation and then the boxcar transportation into Germany. He has been here about three years. He wants to return to Kiev, but I am not sure if he will. He is undoubtedly seriously ill, and I elicit from him the disturbing information that he has recently lost weight. I tell him that he should be evaluated in the German hospital in town, but, as expected , he denies that anything is the matter. I thought that only American physicians were reluctant patients, but the characteristic seems universal. The next day I observe the doctor again. He is obviously failing . I present him with the problem: he must know that he is being unfair to his patients and wife by continuing to work. I have made arrangements with the local hospital for his admission . There his symptoms will be investigated-with payThe Russians I 55 ments for such services to come from the burgomaster, of course. He grudgingly agrees that it is best. His wife packs a few things for him to take, and he slips into a torn, black overcoat...