You don't have to be very bright to carry a handbarrow. So the squad leader gave such work to people who'd been in positions of authority.

The days rolled by in the camp—they were over before you could say "knife." But the years, they never rolled by; they never moved by a second.

A couple of ounces ruled your life.

To outsmart you they thought up work squads—but not squads like the ones outside the camps, where everyone is paid his separate wage. Everything was so arranged in the camp that the prisoners egged one another on. It was like this: either you all got a bit extra or you all croaked. You're loafing you bastard—do you think I'm willing to go hungry just because of you? Put your guts into it, slob.