The other companies in the battalion were constantly being sent out to the little towns and villages surrounding Warsaw on Jew roundup missions. The word in the mess was a lot of the Jews being rounded up only made it a short distance out of town before they were shot. Lothar and Hans were always bitching about being stuck in Warsaw doing guard duty. They wanted to be out there kicking ass like the rest of the battalion.
Myself, I was content to watch the people passing through our gate and observing the expressions on their faces. Everyone has an invisible trunk full of masks to wear in public, switching them to match what they think the occasion demands. For the Jews arriving as part of the roundups, well, their trunks had been emptied when the police whistles blew in what ever crappy little village they lived in.
Watching them entering our gate I enjoyed seeing how they were getting accustomed to wearing their new public mask. The mask of fear. Total abject fear. They had gotten their first fitting a few days earlier during the roundup, and every step since was further reinforcement on what the proper facial attire for them was to be. It was like training dogs. Growling or snapping at you no matter what you did to them was totally unacceptable. Even lifting a lip in a silent snarl was punishable. They could meet your eyes but only if they dropped them immediately afterward. Complete and total obedience was required. In time, even existing became an offense punishable by the death penalty.