16 May 1945, 18:00
Today marks one year since I first felt the swishing scythe of death very close by. And since then, many, many times even closer. But thank God He watched over me, and the anxious, watchful sighs of my dear Mother, sent to me through the good Lord, protected me. I owe it to her and to God alone. I trust that He will continue to help me and will help me home to my Mother and my brothers and sisters, who have perhaps worried greatly about me and await my return every moment. Today all the tradesmen were rounded up and it was thought they would be departing somewhere. They had already packed up, but then came back. The order had been changed.
16 May 1945, 18:00
The rain appears daily, and with hail at that. Yesterday I was out working — cleaning mortar off bricks — even on the holiday we work. The tradesmen are still here; indeed, during the night we grew by fifteen hundred men. My health, thank God, is good. The food is wheat and peas. In the afternoon another 2,000 were added to the headcount. Today I have managed so far without being sent out to work. We are now 8,000 in the camp altogether. The news is quite good — we will be going home soon.
23 May 1945, 13:00
Today a great change occurred. The people were selected — the healthy ones — and again sorted into groups of 40. The consequence of this is that we are going to Russia, and in the near future at that. How long for — that would be good to know. So this is how it ends. Yesterday another 2,000 arrived and today roughly the same number. So we have to leave here, as there is simply no room. We await the hour, the minute of departure. It is a terrible feeling to feel this, but I find some small relief when I see all those fathers out in the yard, moving about in sorrow, perhaps half out of their minds. What are they supposed to say then?