EXCERPT FROM THE LONG NIGHT
Death march to Grossrosen
After spending the night in a barn the death march prisoners were awoken with a shrill blast of a whistle.

Silver pea whistle taken from an SS officer by a US soldier [United States Holocaust Memorial Museum Collection, Gift of Hy Silverman]
Our group was searched by Group Leader Morhard, an ethnic German from Bessarabia. He found a handful of grain in my neighbour’s pocket. The poor fellow had not even taken it himself, it had been put there by a comrade, “Crouch down!” ordered Morhard. The inmate assumed a squatting position as if he was waiting to get a kick up the backside. However, Morhard took the blanket that we each carried on our shoulders, pulled it over the head of his victim, calmly removed his pistol from its holster, placed it with precision on his neck, and shot him.
This entire scene took place less than two metres from where I stood. I stood there, rooted to the spot, absolutely petrified. I had thought Morhard would beat my neighbour with his pistol-butt. The breath caught in my throat as the unsuspecting victim was shot in cold blood. A small hole, its edge scorched, appeared in the blanket. The shot one slumped forward and collapsed on the ground. A thin stream of blood ran slowly onto the snow and formed a dark rivulet in the glistening white. I stood there, severely shaken, unable to remove my gaze from this horrific scene. Was it possible that a human being had just been murdered here for a handful of grain?”