Although all my mates told me not to, [I decided] to venture into the lion’s den and at the morning roll call to go to the [SS] Compound Leader, Baranowski, with my request to be allowed to see the doctor because of my terrible stomach pains, which were sometimes unbearable, though sometimes they eased off for a while […]. The six of us who were ill were separated from the others, made to stand in a particular place and taken to Baranowski at morning roll call. As soon as he caught sight of me he shouted: “Get to work! I know you from Lichtenburg! There’s a different regime here! Clear off!” […] I had no choice but to force myself reluctantly to stay upright and return to my place in the column of prisoners, then march out to work and face the familiar torments and tortures. As I moved off I heard him bellow at another of the six ill prisoners, who must have spoken to him after me: “O come off it! In wartime people have marched for hours holding their guts in their hands! You lot have to learn how to put up with pain! I’ll take care you do! Clear off!” “Clear off” was the rough equivalent of the Roman Emperor’s death sentence as shown by the downturned thumb of his outstretched hand in the arena.