Sick and dazed, wandering through corridors in the bowels of Gethsemet

We passed so many things I don't want to see again, with Ginger keeping up a tour-guide commentary in his peculiar idiom.

First it was the containment cells, with doors hanging off and the remains of things inside. Things half machine, half human, by the bones and gears mixed together. Shattered glass and dried something spilt on the floor. Bullet-holed skulls with nails sunk in and metal plates attached, wrapped with copper coils in rotting insulation.

"These are the failures, kept for experiments and observation," said Ginger, "they were made mindless by what was done to them, but they had reactions that could be measured, so the Nazi alchemists kept them.

"They lived here, locked in these little rooms with numbers on the door. Until we found them, and shoot them in their heads."

Then, a hall with rusting giants hanging massive in the vaults. I felt their oppressive weight above me, and hunched my shoulders as we walked below.

"Things like these we fought in the valley," said Ginger, gesturing up with his gun, "they rend us to pieces with their hands, and stamped us down with their feet. Until we realised they had to see out of their little glass heads," and he pointed at a glint in the darkness above, "there you see, there are proper eyes and brain behind that window. So we shot them there, and they stopped dead."

I asked him if he meant that they had pilots, or drivers, or whatever they should be called, you know, like tanks.

"You mean they have men inside, controlling them? Yes, I suppose - bits of men anyway.

"This is the Abfüllenraum - bottling room, yes? Where volunteers..." there he stopped for a moment. At last he took a deep breath and said, "These volunteers, with limbs amputated, and brain hanging wires, were installed in these bastard machines."