Johann woke in the camp hospital, an overcrowded barracks similar to the others. He was lying in the first ward for the sick people without contagious diseases. There were no medicines or special care, but a Russian doctor came every morning to check on the sick.
“How are you today, tovarish Hauser?” the doctor asked him.
tovarish“Hungry,” Johann croaked.
The doctor glowered at him and pretended not to have heard. He took Johann’s temperature, by laying a hand on his forehead, and his pulse. Then he scribbled a note on a list. “You’re category four. One week.”
Johann looked at the man as he walked down the aisle, deciding in less than a minute about the fate of a man. Category four. A weak smile appeared on Johann’s lips. Unsuitable for work. An entire week! That was almost like paradi
