Chapter 15
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I don't remember exactly what date it was when I became a prisoner of war. Some said it was Valentine's day, it might have been, but that would just be a coincidence. I knew why David had accepted our surrender, he didn't want himself or his men to die. If he had motive to keep us alive, it was only to get more of his own people back alive in prisoner exchanges. But whatever his motive, he had spared our lives. My brain interpretted this as an act of kindness, and I was grateful. They'd get to live to fight in Albany, we'd get to live as P.O.W.s. Which of us got the better end of this deal was up for debate. At first I had hoped to be in a camp close enough for my mother to visit. I soon learned that, whenever possible, you never put a P.O.W. in a camp in their own country. If they were to escape, chances are they know the language and the terrain better than their captors, and they could expect any manner of cooperation from the local population. So I was sent to a camp in Russia. Large parts of Russia were under alien occupation, and I didn't speak russian, had no idea where anything was. Maybe certain people under occupation might be willing to help an american, but I was taken to an isolated area with coal mines. The aliens needed coal and other sources of fuel for their war effort, and they had little problem using P.O.W.s as save labor. This camp was known as Leningrad, and commanded by colonel Buchanan, which was as close as any of us could come to pronouncing his real name. And yes this was the same colonel Buchanan who would later be executed for war crimes and crimes against humanity. We didn't know for certain at the time, but we had some hopes he would face justice after the war.
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We worked 12 hours a day, six days a week in these coal mines. We were paid, but only with money that could be used in special camp stores. I guess they didn't want to give us money we could spend outside, why give us more incentive to escape. Care packages from home were rare, even when they could deliver mail between continents they would often steal whatever little treats were inside for themselves. This camp was built to contain 3,000, there were roughly twice as many by the time I was sent. We were given barely enough food to survive, if that. After the war Buchanan would claim, at his trial, that this food shortage was because of the war, although others claimed he was trying to exterminate us through starvation, making us gather as much coal as possible before we dropped dead. Noone was really sure what the food was. There was a running joke "If it moves, it a rat. If not, it's a cooked rat." Some inmates tried to bribe guards for food. The guards would say, come over this line and I'll sell you this apple. Whether they'd actually sell it to you, or have you shot for crossing the line, was anyone's guess. It was a game to them, the other guards would bet on what would happen.
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I soon learned that not all P.O.W.s are created equal. There was a group, almost 200, known as the "Vultures." They would steal food from other P.O.W.s to keep from starving themselves, and essentially doom others to starvation. Because they had more food than the rest of us, they were physically stronger. Buchanan protected them because they also appeared in propaganda films. These films showed them being treated humanely, even playing baseball or reading in the camp library. They were ofcourse the only inmates allowed into the camp's library or rec room. They even created a band, I have to admit they had some musical talent. The purpose of these films was to show that P.O.W.s were treated humanely overall, to give other soldiers incentive to surrender or even dessert. These vultures were willing to do whatever it took to survive, but then so were we. The vultures worked in the mines like the rest of us, but they worked a more reasonable 8 hours a day, five days a week. And while they were physically stronger, there's just no substitute for large numbers. It was May, shortly after my 17th birthday. Martinez had rallied us up, said we had nothing to lose by attacking the vulture's camp. He was right, we had nothing to lose. We captured the vultures, including their main leader Murphy. After this Martines and Buchanan came to an understanding. Buchanan realized that he could no longer protect these vultures, not without a full scale riot that could endanger his own men. So, it was agreed that the vultures would be given a trial, the judge and jury would be made up of inmates who arrived after they were captured, less likely to be biased. Buchanan agreed to accept whatever verdict the court decided. At this trial Murphy and the other vulture leaders argued that they only did what they had to do to survive. But Martinez, the prosecutor, argued that if they were justified in killing their own people to survive, than we were justified in killing them to ensure our own survival. And if they weren't justified, than they were traitors to their own people, and the death penalty could apply. Martinez was right, their was really no way out for them. Murphy and seven other vulture leaders were sentenced to hang. Murphy tried to run away when he saw the gallows and was dragged back crying and screaming. One woman vulture said "take it like a man" and she walked calmly to her execution. The other vultures were spared, but required to work in the mines more, take some of our shifts.
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Heterosexual sexual relations were forbidden, particularly between human prisoners and our alien overseers. The cold math was that every child born meant one more person would have to die before the war was over. And neither side was all that anxious to see hybrid children born. Condoms and other forms of birth control were easily available. Homosexual relations were allowed, even encouraged. I had never really been attracted to other women, and I wanted to remain a virgin for the time being. This all does not mean that female P.O.W.s never got pregnant. When this happened, they were strongly encouraged to abort these children. They were usually taken to a clinic outside the camp, under guard. Sometimes they came back, sometimes not. I had one friend, Clarke, worked in the mines, helped us to take down the vultures, and she became pregnant. I don't know who the father was, never seemed like a good idea to ask. Clarke was given a brief furlough to obtain an abortion, I never saw her again. The official story was that she escaped. I wonder, if perhaps the father was an alien. I can't judge her for doing, whatever, for extra bread. I realized later that some women in those circumstances were allowed to escape in exchange for aborting a half-human half-alien child, it was their reward. Whether that happened with Clarke, I honestly don't know. In the few instances where the pregnant woman refused to abort, in this camp they were found dead. Allegedly they were shot trying to escape. I'm sure some did try to escape, but it happened too often, it was clearly systematic murder on Buchanan's part.
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In July I received my first letter from my mother since I became a P.O.W. By this point my tour of duty, including my time in Leningrad, had already lasted one month longer than was expected. My mother wrote that it was becoming harder for american jews. People had known I was a soldier fighting for them, but now they knew I had become a prisoner of war. In the minds of many americans, it was mostly jews who collaborated in those propaganda films, and thus they harrassed mom and Willow. It eventually got so bad that they immigrated to Israel. Israel was putting pressure on the aliens to allow jewish P.O.W.s to immigrate as well. My mother was always more dedicated to her children, than to any particular country or political idealogy. She told me that, if given the chance, I should renounce my country, move to Israel with her and Willow, and live out the rest of my life there. A few weeks later, we began to get rumblings about this. Martinez spoke to me in private. He said that, if I were to accept this offer, and then sneak back to America to rejoin the fight, I would be serving my country. So my mother, my commanding officer, were both encouraging me to officially renounce America. What I would do after that, that was where they differed. Sure enough, in late August, an alien officer came to Leningrad, with an offer for the jewish inmates. We could sign a document, saying we renounced our country of origin, and no longer wished to fight against them. Then we could leave for Israel that very day, safe from the war. By this point the war had been going on for two years, with no end in sight. I signed the document, about 50 others did too. Some called us traitors. A few were israeil, they had deifed their government's laws to leave and join the fight. They could have just signed the document and ignored it later, but they would rather sweat it out in Leningrad than even pretend to surrender. I woke up that morning in a P.O.W. camp and fell asleep on a plane to Israel. I'm certain that Martinez or other senior P.O.W.s had talked to the others. I had no idea which of the other 50 might be planning to rejoin the fight and how many just wanted out of the war. In truth, i had no idea what I was going to do next.