Diary of a Serial Killer - Chapter 5 - by Nova

That served as the start signal for the locals and the controlled chaos began. We were relative rookies at this type of work except for some of the men who had been in the SA or had been in the police before the Fuhrer came to power.

The locals knew the drill and spread out among the groups of men. Every Jew who had stood up, or even looked like they were thinking of standing up, was getting butt stroked upside the head. These guys looked like rabble but they knew what they were doing as their strokes were fluid and graceful. The effect was devastating and very effective. Everyone shut up, sat down, and sat small. At least those still capable of sitting, as there was now eight men laid out in the dirt. Three of them were motionless, while the rest were moaning, crying, and struggling to get back on their asses as they tried to staunch the flow of blood which was already drawing flies. Big fat black nasty flies at that.

The SD officer attempted to address the gathered mass of the chosen people but was unable to project his voice over the background of moaning and jabbering. He began screaming at them to “Shut up!” I was now standing on his left about six paces away. I could see the cords on his neck standing out tautly while his face flushed a deep shade of red. The spittle was flying from his lips now. I was struggling with not laughing out loud at him as he looked exactly like the priests at the Home when as a boy they had discussed my shortcomings as a human being with me.

He had excellent peripheral vision unfortunately because he abruptly shut up, turned towards me, and beckoned. I stepped up to him and saluted smartly. “Jawohl! Herr Hauptman!” You were not supposed to address an SS officer as “Herr” but then I never had one correct me either. He handed me his model 08 Luger and in a surprisingly measured tone told me to shoot the wounded.

I took the outstretched pistol from his hand, stepped back one pace, saluted and shouted “Jawohl Herr Hauptman!” I did a parade ground quality about face, and stepped rapidly over to the closest moaner who looked up at me, his expression clearly indicating that he expected me to fix his bleeding head.