Boys like me. We were viable incubators. We could get pregnant. Rehabilitation was always believed for us. A condition that was curable. Pregnancy would help. They tried to impregnate us. To fix us. Almost none took. Some of us had been sterilized before arriving. The rest of us were infertile from camp life. The few that got pregnant. Black triangles that weren’t like us. Unintentional pregnancies. They were either shot or sent for abortion. It made no sense.
