Modern Documents
THE TRAIN
Editor&' Note: The narrator of the following story is a rank-and-file German trade
unionist who worked underground in Germany until 1937. When the war broke out, he
was a refugee in France. Imprisoned, like all refugees from Germany, in a French
concentration camp, he reTTUJined there until the German break-through last May. He
and his fellow prisoners were then put on a train to be taken farther South. We print
below, in his own words, the story of what happened after that.
THE
MOMENT
we hoarded the train, it started moving. Without a stop
and so fast it made us dizzy, the train sped first to
Lyons
and from there
straight to
Marseilles.
The doors were closed, hut we saw through the
openings under the top how singularly beautiful the landscape was, and
that it grew ever more marvelous the farther South we went.
In
Marseilles
we drew up to the gangplank of a big steamer. Another
train-load of German exiles had arrived from
Dijon
a little earlier. We
learned that all of us were to sail for
Algiers
on the boat in the harbor. It
was pleasant to think that the deep sea would he between us and the Ger–
mans, hut after a while we learned that the trip had been cancelled. Where
would we go? Nobody knew.
Before we left
Marseilles
our train was shunted from track to track
around the city's factory district. Most of the workers who live there are
Italian immigrants. When they noticed us, they came running from all
directions and then lined the streets alongside the railroad. Wild with
enthusiasm they cheered us loudly and waved their hands and kerchiefs.
They thought we were soldiers who were going to fight Mussolini.
The next morning found us at the station of a bathing resort in the
Provence. After many hours of waiting we were finally driven to a small
place which was only a few miles away. We got off in front of a huge
building which had once been a brick factory. Now it became our home.
Long rows of wooden shelves filled with old bricks were everywhere piled
on the floor. Between the rows were dark passage-ways. Here we slept on
straw. With each step we made we whirled up a cloud of dust.
As one transport of prisoners arrived after the other and the number
of residents rose to 3,000, it became torture to live in that place. There
was only one toilet and the water-supply was near the toilet. To get to
these places we had to stand in line.
"You know," said one of 'lUr learned friends, "this region of Europe
has been known for its healthy climate since Roman days." We grinned.
"Its beautiful sunshine and balmy air and the fresh wind that blows from
461
