(Engelmann speaking) She told me that Fritz, who I knew belonged to the now outlawed Communist party, had been betrayed to the Gestapo by a former comrade -- "under torture" as she said. "Torture?" I asked in disbelief. "You mean they beat him until he talked?" I had heard rumors of such things, and also that prisoners had simply been executed 'shot while attempting to escape' as it said in the newspapers. Everyone knew what that phrase really meant.
But torture meant something different to me: burning at the stake, the Spanish boot from the Thirty Years War, the Iron Maiden of Nuremberg from the Middle Ages, the thumbscrew, the rack. I could not believe that such things really existed in the heart of Europe, in our city in the year of 1934.
"First they squeeezed him into an iron locker" Hedwig said softly. "He was jammed in there for 12 hours, until late in the evening. Then they came back. First they drove little pointed sticks under his nails . . ." I felt so sick I rushed from the room.