The Haigerloch Project

“Yes. Of course,” he commented matter-of-factly. “And still — there are other factors, Herr Weber. More terrifying…”

He nodded curtly to the other white-clad attendant. She at once went to a small table and opened a drawer.

“You see, Herr Weber,” Harbicht explained. “Knowing where the pain will strike, as you did just now, how it will be inflicted, gives a strong man an edge. An advantage, if you will. He can anticipate it. He can steel himself to endure it. As you did. Yes…”

He smiled. A terrible smile which never reached his eyes. He motioned to the attendant at the table The woman came over.

“However, Herr Weber, we can take that edge away! I think you will be amazed at the difference it makes. When you no longer know where the pain will strike. Or how Or—when.”

He reached. The attendant handed him a small black object. He held it up for Oskar to see.

“A blindfold, Herr Weber,” he said. “Simply — a blindfold.” He shrugged. It was a strangely chilling gesture. “We could, of course, blind you. But that seems so — permanent. It might remove a certain, shall we say, incentive to talk. No. A blindfold is quite as effective.”

He threw it at the attendant. The woman at once placed it across Oskar's eyes.

Blackness…

Fear enveloped him at once.

He felt himself straining to hear. There was utter silence. What were they doing? His naked flesh crawled. What would they do to him? He waited. The pain would strike… now!… He shivered…

Nothing…

Harbicht spoke.

“Finally, Herr Weber,” he said, “there are the fears in our own minds The special fears we all possess. They are the most powerful. That special place on our own body where we fear pain the most. That secret, intimate place we must hold inviolate at all costs…”

He paused.

“Where is yours, Herr Weber?” he asked almost seductively.

Oskar fought against the leather straps binding him, already slippery with his blood. They gave not a fraction of an inch….

Where?

When?

His mind screamed.

Suddenly he felt a light, cold touch on the nipple of his breast. A short cry burst from his lips.

“Here, Herr Weber?” Harbicht whispered.

A cut slicing into the skin of his abdomen made him twitch with sudden shock.

“Here?”

Oskar was trembling. He knew it. He could not stop. He waited….

Oh, God…

He listened.

He could hear nothing — except his own tortured breathing. Suddenly he felt a sharp hard tap on his testicles. He screamed. He could do nothing else. Waves of agony washed over him, spreading to every nerve end in his body. He was suddenly aware of his testicles utterly unprotected beneath him. He struggled against the leather straps. He sobbed.

“Ah, Herr Weber!” Harbicht exclaimed with pleasure. “The secret spot! Not so different from other men, are you, Herr Weber?”

His voice suddenly grew brusque “Where are the enemy agents, Weber?” He shot out the question “What was your real purpose?”

Oskar's mind whirled in a turmoil of anguish. With all his being he wanted to end the pain. He would talk No! Gisela. The others. Anna. He could not sacrifice them. If he talked, he would perpetuate creatures like this Gestapo beast. He — would — not — talk!.. He heard himself sobbing. He stopped at once. He heard a low, rumbling sound. Something was being rolled across the linoleum floor. Something big. What was it?…

It stopped. He listened, struggled to understand…. Clanks. Scrapes. Snaps…. What were they going to do?…

A sudden, sharp pain shot through him as if with a life of its own. Something had been clamped with a tight, sharp bite into one of his nipples…. He jerked violently as an iron grip clutched one of his testicles….

Alligator clamps…

And he knew!

He sobbed. His mind shrieked.

He tried to steel himself.

The fiery shock went through him. A million white-hot needles stabbed into every nerve The pain raged through his loins. It was the only reality in the whole world. There was only one thing to do. Stop it! Stop it any way possible. At any cost…

As suddenly as it had been turned on, the current was switched off.

Talk! Tell them anything!

At the edge of his mind, through the cotton-wool silence in the room, he was aware of someone talking harshly to him. The Gestapo colonel? He could not focus.

But one clear thought reached him in his sea of pain.

Talk now — and everything he had lived for, everything he had endured, would be in vain…. In an instant he would obliterate himself. And all the others…

He — would — not….

Yet he knew with absolute certainty he could not bear the torture any longer. His will would be shredded in an instant. There was only one way to end it.

Death.

But how? How? His aching arms were held tightly by the leather straps. His legs. The skin was torn and bleeding where he had strained against his bonds in his spasms of raw agony. He had been wholly unaware of it. Unaware?…

The massive pain had overridden all other hurts. There, perhaps, was the hope. The way he could rob the Gestapo colonel of his triumph…