Francis Berger
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A Satanic Comedy: Vendel Endrédy's Prison Memoirs. Part Two: Torture

1/21/2023

5 Comments

 
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Continuing from the previous post (bold added):

My first torture took place in an elegant room.

They stripped me naked. Then facing a young officer I was forced to begin deep knee bends. Every time I bent down, I was forced to kiss his boots. This went on till, exhausted, I collapsed. Meanwhile I was supposed to answer questions.

After I had passed out a few times, I was brought to a cell in the basement. I spent two weeks in a little prison cell that looked like a burial cave of 2 by 1.3 meters (7 ft by 5 ft). Above the bunk bed there was a leaking sewage line, constantly dripping on me. I was not allowed to lie down. However, while sitting I was still able to catch some sleep. I got no blanket. It was November. I was constantly cold.

In these terrible days I was constantly praying to God to make me die so that I would not hurt anyone by what I might say.

Two weeks later the interrogations continued. Behind a huge desk sat a colonel, probably the head of the Office of Investigation. They made me sit in front of him, while I was surrounded by five or six plainclothes policemen. To the side three people, two majors and a captain, sat on a leather couch.

The interrogation focused exclusively on the conspiracy of the university students. I told them again that I had participated in no such thing. (At that time I did not know as yet that, disregarding my advice, Ervin Papp had indeed started a subversive organization.) The detectives spat into my face. The colonel asked them, “Do you know any other way than torture to break a man’s resistance.” They all said, “No.”

They then dragged me to the other room where I had been tortured the first time. The same three people were waiting for me: a huge, muscular major, a captain and another man in civilian clothes. They stripped me again and made me do exercises till I collapsed.

​Meanwhile with some flat object they dealt immense blows from behind on my shoulder. For three weeks after this I could not move my head. They also kept on kicking my lower back. The blows and kicks did not cause acute pain but time and again I was knocked unconscious.

Yet I do not think I ever remained unconscious for any longer period of time. I kept on concentrating on what to say and tried to answer all the questions which they were asking. For if I remained silent and did not deny any of their statements, they took my silence as an admission of guilt.

I had to undergo a large variety of physical trials. They made me face the wall and forced me to lean onto a pencil-like object set between my forehead and the wall. They put nails and needles under my heels. They pushed against my side the heated plates of electric ranges. When I collapsed they quickly pulled out the plank with the nails and needles and with a few kicks forced me to stand up again.

Another method was to make me squat time and again. They put into my hand weights of 20 to 30 pounds. I was supposed to squat with my heels over the nails until I collapsed. Then again with blows and kicks they brought me back to consciousness. I was also tortured with electric shocks. They conducted electricity to my lips, around my eyes, my nose, my ears, even to my penis.

The game of “Kiss the Cross” consisted in forcing me to kiss a metal cross and a metal plate, the latter being called the “gospel book.” The electric circuit was closed every time I held the plate and kissed it. They said if I told the truth no harm would be done, but if I lie the electric shock would kill me. My lips were burned and a wound as big as a quarter was left on my mouth. As I collapsed a sharp object lying on the floor seriously wounded my knee. This wound became infected and swelled up as large as my palm.

They brought two doctors who dressed and bandaged the wound with the greatest care. One of them asked: “What happened to you?” I softly answered, “It happened during the interrogation...” At that moment a policeman stepped out from behind a screen and harshly interrupted, “He fell down on the steps.”

During the tortures there was a point beyond which I ceased to feel that I was being hit. At times the prison guard would tell me to wipe the blood from my face. I did not realize that I was bleeding.
5 Comments
Whitney
1/21/2023 18:04:51

From O'Brians monologue to Winston Smith in 1984

“The first thing for you to understand is that in this place there are no martyrdoms. You have read of the religious persecutions of the past. In the Middle Ages there was the Inquisition. It was a failure. It set out to eradicate heresy, and ended by perpetuating it....in the twentieth century, there were the totalitarians, ... and they imagined that they had learned from the mistakes of the past; they knew, at any rate, that one must not make martyrs. Before they exposed their victims to public trial, they deliberately set themselves to destroy their dignity. They wore them down by torture and solitude until they were despicable, cringing wretches, confessing whatever was put into their mouths, covering themselves with abuse, accusing and sheltering behind one another, whimpering for mercy. And yet after only a few years the same thing had happened over again. The dead men had become martyrs. why was it? In the first place, because the confessions that they had made were obviously extorted and untrue... We do not make mistakes of that kind... We shall turn you into gas and pour you into the stratosphere. Nothing will remain of you: not a name in a register, not a memory in a living brain. You will be annihilated in the past as well as in the future. You will never have existed.”

I think about this monologue a lot. All believers at this point have to realize what's coming in the spiritual battle and also know that creating new martyrs is definitely something the regime is going to try to avoid by whatever means possible. But even though we remember and praise the martyrs, today is St Agnes's feast day, we also remember the white robed army of martyrs who shed their blood for Christ. Posterity does not remember their names, but God does. None of them are forgotten. 1984 is such an interesting book and I often think a few pages beyond this monologue when O'Brien ask Winston Smith do you believe in God and he says no. How different the book would be if he had said yes.

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Francis Berger
1/21/2023 18:28:50

@ Whitney - I appreciate the inclusion of that excerpt from 1984. Thanks.

Also,

"Posterity does not remember their names, but God does. None of them are forgotten."

Yes, this is a very significant insight. O'Brien's attitude reveals the limit of his positivist/material/atheistic thinking. He believes martyrs are driven exclusively by secular, this-worldly considerations -- that martyrs become martyrs for a social cause or for posteriety or to have their names recorded in history, etc.

Though this may apply to secular political/social martyrs, it is certainly not -- or should not be the case -- for religious martyrs.

In fact, one wonders why secular social/political martyrs would even bother, since the ultimate foundation of their worldview is meaninglessness.

Reply
Anthony Probst
1/21/2023 20:56:17

Or if Orwell (Blair) had believed in God.

Reply
Francis Berger
1/21/2023 21:34:53

@ Anthony - Yes, even more to the point.

John
1/23/2023 02:43:09

Man is a vile and evil animal . the only worth we get is from our faith in JESUS and God. Thjis has been going on for Millenia. It will not stop until The Lord of Lords descends from the heavens with a SHOUT!. Then every Canaanite ecdemite will wail and gnash for they know how this ends. HELL is real and the place they belong

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