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Selzer on POW death march
The
following was written by Selzer before his death.
To Be A Prisoner of War
To
be a prisoner of war is to experience cold. Not
the cold, blustery Minnesota winter when you wish you had worn your gloves. I am talking
about standing for hours in soup lines in freezing weather pelted by sleet, feet numb and
fingers nearly frozen. You are sick, your body
is racked by uncontrollable shivering and your mind is a mask of pain. Dysentery knots your stomach, adding to the misery. You begin to wonder if death is far away. It never comes...it merely teases you.
To
be a prisoner of war is to experience fear. Nameless
terror as you lie packed into a railroad box car, doors locked and barred, while attacking
aircraft bomb and strafe and not knowing if you will be blown to bits the next second. The terrible fear of catching a horrible disease
that runs rampant throughout the camp and no medicine or strength to fight back. The fear that you might never again be free.
To
be a prisoner of war is to experience anger and deep depression. Anger knowing that your enemy counterparts,
imprisoned in the United States, are well fed and clothed.
Thoughts of family and home lock your mind in bottomless depression and is
perhaps the cruelest torture. Anger at your
captors and wishing for their death.
To
be a prisoner of war is to suffer the agony of rehabilitation in a suddenly alien world. It is the frustration of trying to cope and fit
into a society that seems foreign and unable to relate to your experiences. It is the resentment you immediately feel for those
who have never felt what you have, seen what you have, and whose personal problems pale by
comparison. It is the recurring nightmares
that will plague you for the rest of your days. It
is the nagging questions, "What was it all for? What
good did it do? Who cares?"
