travel books: disappointments I was hoping again. Perhaps I would even be assigned to the Engineering Section, which had a legendary reputation. Some fifteen or twenty skilled engineers worked there on prison construction, and, according to the grapevine, on jobs for outside firms as well. They spent their days behind draft boards; they had access to paper, pencils, and even books. Every prisoner dreamed of being assigned to that office. One reason why I was not too hopeful of getting so splendid a chance was that it was mostly reserved for the National Communists. Perhaps that might be the very reason for my chance, I wondered. Possibly they were interested in establishing some contact with the non-Communists. Perhaps the imprisoned National Communists even had some secret connections with our friends on the outside. Who cDuld tell? Anything was possible. Or perhaps it was just sheer fantasy, the wis books

Books > Old Books > You are All Alone(1959)

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PART I - IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH
CHAPTER 10 - THE CRY OF THE BEATEN WOLVES

disappointments I was hoping again. Perhaps I would even be assigned to the Engineering Section, which had a legendary reputation. Some fifteen or twenty skilled engineers worked there on prison construction, and, according to the grapevine, on jobs for outside firms as well. They spent their days behind draft boards; they had access to paper, pencils, and even books. Every prisoner dreamed of being assigned to that office. One reason why I was not too hopeful of getting so splendid a chance was that it was mostly reserved for the National Communists. Perhaps that might be the very reason for my chance, I wondered. Possibly they were interested in establishing some contact with the non-Communists. Perhaps the imprisoned National Communists even had some secret connections with our friends on the outside. Who cDuld tell? Anything was possible. Or perhaps it was just sheer fantasy, the wishful thinking of a frustrated prisoner. We'll see, I decided, there's no other way but to wait patiently, and see what happens.
One day the key turned in the lock.
" Are you 1312?" grunted the guard. We were never addressed by our names, but only by an impersonal number. "Yes," I replied. "What's your name?" he barked. "Jozsef Kovago." He glanced at the paper in his hand and nodded. "Get going." Through long, twisting corridors, we went up to the warden's office. A second lieutenant was waiting for me. His face was that of a stupid, primitive man, and his sense of humor befitted his face. "Listen, goddam you," he started with a jovial smile, "you're going to get a big job, perhaps even freedom to move inside the prison." And he explained that several of the prisoners had reported to the warden's office with ideas for technical innovations and inventions; that the Communist state system was liberal enough to give even prisoners a chance to work out some of their ideas, thereby alleviating their criminal consciences and benefiting the state. He explained that a few years might be deducted from the prisoner's sentence, that he might even