The single remaining arch of Weingut I at the Nazi Mühldorf labor camp. Construction of this underground bunker factory, using slave labor, began in 1944 and was abandoned at the end of WWII. In the foreground is a collapsed arch, with iron rebar protruding from its surface. The ruins are located in the Upper Bavarian district of Mühldorf. Via Wikimedia Commons.

Introduction

“As I was growing up, my mother used to tell me ‘Bubika, you are so smart. If you were ever ship-wrecked on the ocean all alone, you would survive.’”

The words above, from our cousin, Ted Sears' memoir, were spoken by Ted's mother and repeated often when he was a small child. They served as a beacon for Ted again and again and they pulled him through and made it possible for him, later in life to tell his story — a testimony to the corrosive, destructive effects of hatred amplified by the permission and active encouragement of national leaders.

Only about three weeks after their incarceration at Auschwitz, Ted and his brother were sent to the slave labor camp at Mühldorf.

Mühldorf, a sub camp of Dachau, was one of several underground factories the Nazi's began constructing toward the end of the war to enable the continued production of munitions and aircraft. It was planned as a facility to turn out Messerschmitt fighter planes. But like Kauferlink, where Rafal, Jelen another of our cousins was forced to work, the facility was still unfinished at the end of the war — though thousands of slave laborers died in the effort.

At Mühldorf, 14 year old Ted was forced to carry 100 pound sacks of cement from the rail terminal where they were delivered to the site of the construction of the huge arches that were being built as the roof of the underground facility.

But one day he was assigned to a different work crew. The excerpt below describes that day.

The Potato Field, by Ted Sears

It was sometime in the fall when one morning after roll call, much to my surprise, I was assigned to a different work detail. One never knew whether a new designation was better or worse than the assignment it had replaced, nonetheless as long as it didn’t take me to lug cement-bags I was looking forward to wherever we were going with great expectation. Since I was constantly preoccupied with searching for food, I was hoping to find something to eat at the new place we were heading to.

The road took me in a different direction from my usual daily path and the distance was much shorter. Like always, the guards were pushing to move faster. It didn’t take very long before we arrived to a gate and without any warning the unit was ordered to a sudden and complete stop. A guard unlocked the gate from the outside, allowing the unit to enter, and once everyone was inside, the gate was locked promptly. It became quite clear that this place was the intended workstation for the day but the nature of work to be performed was still a mystery. While the atmosphere looked serene, not threatening at all, yet one never knew what the next second might bring. It could easily turn into a massacre and nobody would ever know what happened. People disappeared constantly without a clue.

After a few minutes the picture became clearer and I realized that it was a supply depot, a place where food supply for the SS was stored. There were mounds of potatoes and from the looks of it there was enough stored there to feed the entire SS at least through the winter season. But a problem had developed relating to the storage, and the potatoes were beginning to rot. We were brought here to sort them - to separate and discard the spoiled ones from the good ones, which would then be stored in a new and sterile place.

Before the work began a stern warning was issued, not to eat any potatoes or bring any back to camp. The warning was delivered loud and clear. “Anybody caught stealing a potato will be shot.” The threat wasn’t new to me I heard it many times before. I knew how dangerous it was to disobey the warning, but my unbearable hunger overpowered the fear of getting caught, and immediately my mind went into overdrive, trying to figure out a way how to get something to eat without getting hurt.

With guards all around the challenge was a most difficult one and I had to come up with something shrewd. I knew that nothing less than astuteness will handle the situation. Nothing worthwhile came to mind but despite the seemingly irresolvable circumstances I was still delighted to find myself surrounded with all the potatoes because I knew that sooner or later I will have an answer.

The work that morning seemed to begin with excitement, a frame of mind that I’d not seen before. Just the sight of something edible was enough to put most everybody in a jovial mood. It was easy to see on the hungry faces that everybody had the same thing in mind - how to eat the potatoes. The hunger was great and didn’t take very long for some of the men to clandestinely take a bite out of a potato that was being discarded. Rotten or not, it didn't seem to make any difference. As a matter of fact, it seemed that they preferred the spoiled ones because it was easier to bite into without being detected. With the guards practically on top of us, the risk factor was enormous and one was really putting his life on the line whenever one tried to eat the forbidden fruit. It was a senseless gamble, I thought.

My urge to eat the potatoes was beyond control. To see all this food in front of me and yet unable to sample it was total torture. But fortunately, I was able to resist the tremendous temptation of eating them raw, because eating raw potatoes would have been disastrous even if not spotted by SS. As a matter of fact, many that ate the uncooked potatoes got violently ill and some died a few days later.

I continued to work diligently while still trying to find a solution. Suddenly I realized that since eating the raw potatoes was not the answer, why not bring them back to camp and together with Mickey we will find the solution. But to bring potatoes back to camp was a bigger challenge yet.

It was mid-day, right after I finished lunch when I finally came up with a practical solution. While walking to fetch my meal I happened to see a piece of string lying on the ground and knew immediately that it was the answer to what I was looking for. I picked it up and used it to tie the bottom of my pant legs. I looked around very carefully and when I thought it was safe, I threw a few potatoes inside my pants. I did it with so much dexterity that even someone standing right next to me could not have notice what I was doing. Just like I thought, the potatoes rolled down my legs to the bottom of the pants. Waited awhile to make sure that I wasn’t detected and soon threw a few more and then a few more. I was very well aware that this is a very risky undertaking, much more dangerous than anything I have tried before, therefore I was trying to think of anything that could possibly go wrong. I knew that distributing the potatoes evenly on both sides of my pant legs was very critical and also made sure not to stuff too much where it becomes easily noticeable. After awhile I thought I had enough and fought off the urge to add just a few more to it.

After work, marching back to camp, I noticed that my pant legs were bulging, much more than I anticipated and became concerned that it would give me away. Fortunately, it was dark and I was able to melt inconspicuously into the middle of the unit where I could not be readily seen by the guards. But the weight of the potatoes and the way they were flapping around at the bottom of my pant legs presented another problem that I did not anticipate. I was afraid that the stress factor would tear my pants and that I’d loose all the potatoes. The distance to the camp not being very far eased both of the problems and luckily, I managed to hold on to the potatoes without being detected.

Relaxed, feeling good about what I considered to be my greatest exploit ever, I could hardly wait to see Mickey and show him the treasure I brought back to camp. The head count seemed to go on forever - all the while wondering how a young kid was able to outfox the biggest military brain of the SS. How was this possible? I wondered. Amazed to see how well my plan worked "I dodged the bullet again,” I said with a smile on my face, happy to have all those potatoes.

It didn’t take me long to locate Mickey and when I showed him just one of the potatoes he yelled out in disbelief; “where did you get it, where did you get it?”

“Wait a minute. There is more” I told him proudly as I was pulling the rest of the potatoes, one by one, out of my pant legs. I told him how the idea came to me when I saw all the potatoes at work that day.

“I knew that it was extremely dangerous but I had to do it,” I said.

While bringing the potatoes back to camp was a major coup, to cook them and make them edible seemed like an even bigger challenge. Stymied, unable to come up with an answer the urge to eat them raw seemed to be the only alternative. “There must be a solution” the two of us said simultaneously, knowing full well that eating them raw could be devastating.

Extraordinary situation called for extraordinary measures and once again we rose to meet the challenge. Quickly, we found a partial answer to the dilemma we had.

The barrack where we were housed for the winter, a long and rectangular shaped construction, was dug halfway below the ground. The other half was a domed shaped figure that protruded above the surface, which formed the roof. Each barrack housed about one hundred and fifty inmates including the Kapo in charge of that particular barrack. His quarters was located at the entrance of the barrack where a fire burning stove provided him heat during the cold winter months - something not afforded the rest of the prisoners - and we figured that this stove will be just the right appliance to implement our tricky scheme. But how to use this perfect cooking device in our situation still wasn’t quite clear.

The more we saw the smoke pouring out of the chimney the more we knew that this has to be it. Walking around for awhile we found a rusty piece of wire about 3 feet long. Without even giving it any thought, we picked it up and the rest came naturally. We stuck the wire through each potato, tied up the bottom of the wire to keep the potatoes from falling off; then tied the top of the wire to a stick of wood. Now, we had the potatoes hanging from a wire hanging vertically from a horizontal stick. To climb up to the chimney was not too difficult but to do it without being detected by the Kapo who was inside the barrack or the SS, who was outside, was a major problem to overcome. A double threat, not easily doable.

Like a burglar, I quietly inched myself to the chimney where the fire was burning and slowly inserted the wire-full potatoes inside the chimney. The stick kept the contraption from falling down. In order to avoid detection, I immediately laid myself flat on the roof and waited there for the fire to do its assignment. Mickey was on the constant lookout, to warn me of any danger that may be coming our way, which could have come from so many different places. Even noticed by a fellow inmate could have presented a problem. Therefore, when anyone happened to walk by, my brother who stood watch for me pretended to be on his way to enter the barrack.

The threat of the Kapo detecting the odor of the cooking potatoes, a hazard not considered when plotting our exploit, just happened to work in our favor; it was rising to the top of the chimney and did not give us away.

I had absolutely no idea how much time was needed for the potatoes to get done but after waiting about twenty minutes (it seemed like hours) I pulled the make shift “shishkebob” off the fire. I gestured to Mickey that all is done and waited for his signal that everything was clear before I cautiously inched my way to the ground with the hot potatoes concealed under my coat.

Both of us were amazed to see how the smoke and heat rising from the chimney actually cooked the potatoes just like we thought it would. Actually, it could have used another five minutes of fire but we didn’t want to chance it any longer and besides the hunger was driving us crazy.

The dark night made the clandestine operation a lot easier. Hidden behind the barrack, feeling safe yet always alert, we sat down and began to eat. The smoke from the chimney not only cooked the potatoes but it gave it a barbecue flavor. We must have had about fifteen potatoes and every time I finished one, I looked to see how many more were left.

"We still have nine left" I yelled out loud to Mickey and took another one.

I had an urge to touch and caress each of the remaining potatoes before I took another one to eat.

"We only have three more left but they are all big" both of us said simultaneously and continued the feast.

The taste of the potatoes was something out of this world. It didn’t taste only like a potato; it tasted like anything I wanted it to be. If I wanted chicken it tasted like chicken. If I wanted it to taste like bread or vegetable that was no problem either. But the best tasting one was the one that tasted like grandmother’s cookies.

My stomach was getting fuller and fuller and the hunger began to ease slowly. With only three more left, I was hoping that the hunger would be gone completely by the time we finished them all.

Finally, the potatoes were all gone. I could have eaten more but I didn’t complain. I had enough. At last, the hunger disappeared. It was gone as if it was never there. My stomach felt as if butterflies were fluttering around inside it, dancing and soothing all the pain away. I felt like those times at home, when I was a little lad and hurt myself. My mother would kiss the boo-boo and make all the hurt go away. That is exactly how I felt after I finished eating the potatoes - as if all the other hardships of the camp disappeared also. It felt so good that I was willing to forgive all my tormentors for all the hardships they inflicted on me.

The few extra potatoes had added a few extra days to my survival. It augmented the vital nourishment that the body so badly needed not to mention the tremendous mental lift that came with it also. But at that very moment, having filled my stomach was much more pleasing than the importance of survival. The constant pain of hunger was completely gone and this temporary sated feeling was beyond description. I was in complete ecstasy and for a moment I had no fear of ever being hungry again.

It was remarkable to see how the often heard phrase “necessity is the mother of invention” worked so well in this particular occasion. This hazardous adventure, the most challenging ever, was a real eye opener. It taught me how important it was to take advantage of every opportunity that presents itself. It taught me that a positive attitude even in a most difficult situation was an absolute must, if I wanted to survive. It taught me that taking chances was always fraught with danger but it was my duty to find the right solution no matter how cunning it may have to be. It also taught me that if I fail to take action because of the peril involved I might very well not survive.

To have taken the risk was insane but not to have taken it would have been criminal, I assured myself. I was proud of my skirmish and there was no question in my mind that it was well worth the effort and that I would do it all over again. It became very clear to me that to say "I can't do it" was not going to work in a hostile environment such as this.

The “I can do anything” attitude from my early childhood was extremely instrumental in my bold confrontation with the mighty SS and it served me well throughout the entire time that I spent in the camps. My careless and fearless young disposition, while at times it almost came close to betray me, in the long run it was unquestionably my most valuable asset. Older inmates, those fearful of taking chances, unfortunately paid the price.

Having successfully accomplished this daring challenge, I understood Mother’s “Shipwrecked in the middle of the ocean all alone” much more clearly. I interpreted it to mean that if and when I find myself alone in an unforgiving perilous sea, I must muster all the skills that she was attributing to me. I must use every stroke in my arsenal to stay afloat in the choppy waters of the stormy ocean until the rescue ship arrives.

Her wisdom lifted my spirit to the point where I had no more doubt about my survival.

It didn't take long however for the hunger to resurface. Just a few days earlier my stomach was full and I felt good. In less than two days the hunger returned in full force, as if I never had eaten the extra potatoes at all.

"How could this be? The absence of hunger should really last at least a couple of weeks" I tried to reason.

All my reasoning did not help to ease the hunger, not one iota. Feeling the hunger at full force again, I couldn’t help thinking about my fellow inmates who did not have roasted potatoes like I did. I knew how hungry they must have been because almost all of our conversation was always food related. But of course there was nothing I could do to help them or myself.

Ted Sears Memoir, part 2

Introduction

The Potato Field, by Ted Sears

Ted Sears Memoir, part 3

Ted Sears Memoir, part 1