Nothing is more evil and brutal then enduring punishment in a roll call. This one particular roll call will always haunt Tomasz. Roll call began just like all the rest with everyone in camp making a mad scramble to take a place in line otherwise a beating would for sure be guaranteed. Tomasz quickly makes his way to his designated spot: the third line from the front and one-third of the way in the back. He feels safer not being in the front and not being in the back. Not that he isn’t accessible for the guards to beat or shoot him but it takes more time for them to reach him where he stands. At this roll call, the guards ask the prisoners to count by threes starting at the front. Then, they are told, when they reach person four, they will begin again at one, two and three. Tomasz shifts anxiously as he hears the instructions. This is new for roll call, so he doesn’t know what to expect. He’d never been told to count before, but his little experience told him anything new will almost always be bad. The man at the front of the line begins counting out a low “one.” A guard moves forward and wallops him hard in the stomach with a baton, knocking the wind out of …show more content…
The man stands still, not uttering a single syllable. “Prisoner, say your number or you’ll feel the crack of my stick!” The man, however, clinches the side of his torn and frayed pants with both hands still refusing to utter a word or even move. Tomasz stands by nervously waiting for this man to be beaten to death. Tomasz notices the man’s knees shaking violently and the weight of his upper body, whatever is left of it, makes the shaking even worse. Another guard comes over and shouts, “Count now, or you are dead!” The man doesn’t say a word. It’s as if he’s in another world blocking out everything around him. His shaking takes over his whole body, but to Tomasz’s surprise, he is still able to stand and hold his position. He looks like he will crumble at any moment. Tomasz holds his breath. “What is your numb………..?” one of the two guards shouts. Before he could finish, a loud shot blasted through the air. Bits and pieces of bone and blood splatter over Tomasz’ face and left arm. He flinches as the defiant man beside him slumps lifelessly to the ground. One of the senior guards shot the man from thirty yards away with his