Jurgen was right, Kristallnacht proved to be a catalyst for direct action against our enemies and for me personally his friendship with mother proved extremely useful. In September 1939 as a result of his intervention I was transferred to the newly formed national security office and assigned to work in the Reich Criminal Police department dealing with non-political crimes of a serious nature such as rape, arson and murder though in reality I dealt mainly with Jews and those others deemed enemies of the state. Our army had invaded Poland after they refused our requests to create a corridor linking Germany with Danzig in East Prussia. However, Danzig was not our main objective. It was a matter of expanding our living space in the east and making our food supply secure. Furthermore, we already knew that Poland would always be on the side of our adversaries so there was no question of sparing them. As a result of our actions, Great Britain and France declared war on 3
rd
September.
I was dedicated to my work. As a result I became more withdrawn from Leni. To my shame, she suffered from my behaviour which at times was intolerable. Often I didn’t come home for days without ever contacting her and when I did I was often bad tempered and critical. My mother was spending more time with Jurgen in Bavaria and Silke had decided to return to her home in Hamburg so Leni was alone a lot of the time. I tried to explain to her that everything had changed and she needed to accept that we all had to play our part in ensuring our national project succeeded. I wanted Resi to grow up in a strong Germany that would offer her many opportunities. She agreed but cautioned me regarding my commitment to her stating that the Fuhrer always stressed the importance of family life.
Our marriage was severely tested in January 1940 when I was assigned to the office of SS-Obersturmbannführer Eichmann in Prague. I asked Leni to come with me but she declined. She wanted to be near her parents.
“Turn it down”, she implored. I refused. Why should I not accept it? I justified my actions by reminding her that when the war ended I would be in a good position to develop a rewarding career, with a secure salary. We would be in a position to buy our own house, have more children and live a decent life. We were both National Socialists and as such were required to defend our principles.
“I didn’t think it would be like this”, she said. “I loved the idea of a country of strong disciplined men protecting their women but everything seems to have gotten out of hand. This war is breaking up families, forcing our men to fight apart from their wives and children. And I cannot understand the Fuhrer’s obsession with Jews, Ralf. After Kristallnacht I began to doubt the genuineness of our cause. Jurgen frightened me with his idealism and his absolute certainty that the Fuhrer was always right but it was his hatred of Jews that frightened me the most.”
“I don’t think he hates them”, I retorted. “He understands the necessity of removing them from German life…”
“…he does hate them! He may have all the arguments rehearsed, all the political reasoning suitably articulated in passionate speeches but that is a façade behind which lies a deep hatred of Jews and anyone else who doesn’t conform to his precise ideals of purity and perfection.”
Her words shocked me and I was at a loss as to what to say.
“And you adore him”, she continued. “You adore his strength and determination which is commendable but I am now beginning to wonder if you too have this hatred. It seems to me that instead of spreading hope and joy among our nation, Herr Hitler is sowing revulsion and intolerance.”
“For God’s sake Leni, don’t speak like that. People are being arrested for saying less.”
“Listen to yourself Ralf. I’m your wife and we should be able to discuss these things. I am terrified that you will be unwittingly drawn into something awful, something you will regret for the rest of your life.”
“You are being overdramatic Leni. I’m just a civil servant. I don’t actually do anything except fill in forms and file papers. I agree that Jurgen can appear scary when he talks and to tell the truth I’m not impressed with his relationship with my mother, but you must admit, he’s very charming and at times compelling.”
“He is too compelling. Listen, you must do what you think is best. I will not accompany you to Prague and I will not live alone here with our daughter. I have decided to move back to my parents.”
I was angry and driven to tell her she would do as she was told. She was a mother of the Fatherland and bound by certain moral and social duties. But I could not say anything. I merely slumped on the settee. She sat beside me and held my hand.
“I fell in love with you the moment I saw you Ralf. Not with your beliefs or your dedication to the party but with you, your courage and your loyalty. You have a kind heart and are a good father to Leni but I want a husband who is near me Ralf. No-one will think any less of you if you do not go to Prague. You have no need to prove yourself to me or anyone else.”
I was ashamed but could not acknowledge it. Instead I sought to defend myself against her honesty by creating valid reasons for wanting to leave. In truth I was bored, bored with the responsibility of married life and bored with the tedious nature of my job. I craved excitement and this drew me to people like Jurgen. And I loved having power, loved the control it offered me and knowing how my decisions affected other people’s lives. In the end I rejected her and went to Prague alone.
Unlike Berlin, Prague is one of those cities that instantly tantalises. The Bohemian majesty of Wenceslas Square, Charles Bridge, the Castle and the medieval town of Hradcany are spectacular. I worked and lived at the SS barracks complex situated near the airport in Ruzyne. The first day I arrived it was obvious what was to happen. Prague and The Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia were to be Germanized and this meant the total expulsion of Jews. If I thought Jurgen was passionate and dedicated then I wasn’t prepared for SS
-Obersturmbannführer Eichmann
. He was devoted to Aryan ideology and his administrative skills were second to none. Our office dealt with Jewish emigration and to achieve our objectives we began to systematically isolate Jewish society from normal life. We began by promoting the idea of a central Jewish authority to facilitate our operations. In March we decreed that the Jewish Communities of the Protectorate were now answerable to the Jewish Religious Council of Prague, already established shortly after our occupation.
We then began issuing a series of orders designed to force them to leave. They were excluded from the movie and theatre industries, restricted to travelling at the back of the second car on Prague trams and barred from all hotels. In April 1940 our government issued a comprehensive law banning Jews from public service and all social, cultural and economic organisations. Jewish doctors could still practice but only in the Jewish community. They were also ordered to report to the local police and have their identity papers stamped with a distinctive J and in August 1940 Jewish children were excluded from Czech schools. October 1940 saw Jews denied access to a wide range of rationed goods and banned from certain areas of Prague, including the Vltava embankment. In January 1941 their driving licences were confiscated and Jews were forced out of their apartments in the best areas of Prague, and moved into old tenements in the first, second and fifth districts of the city. That order served me best and in addition to receiving a promotion to Oberscharfuhrer I was assigned a beautiful apartment in Strackonicka, overlooking the Vitava River. It had previously belonged to a family called Hepner. It was really too large for me but I could now invite Lena and Resi to visit. Her stay with her parents had been short-lived. Mother had returned home when Jurgen was promoted and transferred to KZ Auschwitz in Southern Poland. She quickly persuaded Leni to return and even convinced Silke to leave Hamburg. It seemed like old times again and in the summer of 1941 they all joined me in Prague for two weeks. Resi was now four and she was delightful. We spent many sunny afternoons playing by the river and having Silke gave us free time in the evening. My Schutzstaffel rank entitled us to dine in the best restaurants and gain free admission to museums and galleries. Unfortunately most of the theatres were no longer open due to their insistence in showing what
Obersturmbannführer Eichmann
referred to as “degenerate muck”. Mother asked me about the Prague State Opera but I informed her it had now closed as we used it occasionally for Party assemblies.
Leni seemed happier though I was still wary of her and still angry that she had not come with me. She had written often and I had replied when time permitted. We were extremely busy now dealing with the re-settlement of Jews and this often involved long days. One night as we sat at dinner she remarked that I seemed to be drinking more. I was taken aback by her statement and without thinking became rude and abrasive.
“For fuck’s sake woman, you seem to be obsessed with finding fault with me.”
Mother immediately rebuked me and I apologised.
“She is not finding fault with you Ralf. She cares about you.”
It didn’t seem like that and I spent the rest of the evening very conscious about the amount of wine I drank. I tried to explain to them that my work affected me at times. Regardless of our ideals and our impression of Jews I was dealing with people. A lot of my colleagues had no such reservations and gladly enacted our orders without any consideration but I became depressed at times. I admitted that alcohol helped me achieve a happy and contented frame of mind but there was no question of me neglecting my duties though over-indulgence. I was always completely fresh and ready for work. I was determined to succeed in my career and I reminded Leni of my reasons for doing so. When they returned to Berlin I set about with a renewed vigour to impress my superiors more. I gladly worked longer. I accepted difficult cases and pursued them to conclusion. I became more optimistic. However, everything changed on the morning of the 27
th
May 1942 when
Obergruppenführer
Heydrich, the Reich Head of Security was shot on his way to work. He died eight days later. The reaction was immediate and brutal. The Fuhrer became personally involved and demanded a swift and bloody response. We received a report that two villages, Liditz and Lezaky were connected to the shooting. I was ordered to attend at Liditz. When I arrived every man over the age of fifteen had been rounded up and taken to a local farm. Bed mattresses were assembled against a wall in a yard. Then the shooting commenced, at first in groups of five but the SiPo chief in charge of the operation, Horst Böhme decided it was going to take all day with groups of five and increased the group size to ten. I really didn’t know why I was there and the shootings affected me so much that shortly after they began I vomited violently. Böhme was disgusted. He suggested that I shoot the next group. I was appalled. “You haven’t seen any action?” he asked me. I shook my head. “Only during Kristallnacht”, I replied. He laughed. “Kicking a few helpless Jews isn’t action. This is!” He snapped my revolver from its holster and handed it to me. I stood for a moment completely frozen with fear. I watched the group being assembled, men and boys of all ages looking confused and terrified. “Off you go!” Böhme ordered. I stepped forward and slowly raised the gun but instead of shooting I ran out of the yard and was once more violently sick. Böhme followed me. “What are you doing here? You’re a fucking disgrace. Now take yourself off to the schoolhouse and look after the women and children.”
They shot one hundred and seventy three men and razed the village to the ground. The women and children were all dispersed among the camp system. I was transferred to Paris as a result of a complaint made by Böhme to my superiors and arrived there on the 16
th
June. I did not inform Leni or mother of my whereabouts.
I was lucky they didn’t demote me. The work in Paris was similar to Prague. We were very close to rounding up all Jews who were not naturalised French citizens and transporting them to the camps. On the night of the 15
th
July 1942 I sat in my barracks in Kaserne preparing for the roundup the following morning. Two officers, Oberscharfuhrer Markus Foerster and Hauptscharfuhrer Wenzel Muller joined me. They had some brandy and we drank and spoke for a while, mostly trading stories about our time in the Hitler-Jugend. Markus came from Stuttgart and had spent some time in Munich so I asked him if he knew Jurgen.
“Know him? How could I not know him? He’s legendary”, he said, “totally irresistible. Where is he now? Last I heard he was in Poland.”
“Yes”, I replied, “He’s at KZ Auschwitz.”
“God help him”, Wenzel exclaimed, “By all accounts its mayhem there.”
“In what way is it mayhem?” I asked.
“Well, you know what they do there, don’t you?”
“It’s a camp, isn’t it?”
They both laughed. Markus leaned over and grabbed my shoulder.
“It’s a camp of Death!” he replied emphasising the word “Death” in a contrived deep voice. They both thought that was extremely funny before realising that I didn’t understand what they were referring to.
“They kill Jews there Ralf. Did you not know?”
I told them I did not, but our round-up involved sending transports to Auschwitz so I was intrigued to hear more.
“What do you mean, kill them?”
They looked at me in disbelief.
“You were in Prague, were you not, at the office of Obersturmbannführer Eichmann? You must have had some inkling of what was going on. Were you not aware of the directive from Wannsee? Your boss Heydrich issued it and Eichmann implemented it”
I knew where Wannsee was. I had spent many Sundays there walking by the Kleiner Lake with Leni and Resi. I told them my work in Prague involved enacting ordinances that ensured Jews and other undesirables would leave thus guaranteeing the Germanisation of the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia.
“Where did you think they were going to go?” Markus asked me.
“It wasn’t my business to know that”, I replied, “I worked behind a desk.”
“Yes, but you saw what happened at Liditz?”
His question took me by surprise.
“Yes, but that was retaliation for Heydrich’s assassination.”
“Maybe so, but we only shot the men. The women and children were sent to camps.”
“For re-settlement in the East, yes.”
“They were sent to Auschwitz, Ralf and most of them were gassed as soon as they arrived.”
“Special treatment!” interrupted Wenzel.
“What?”
“They received special treatment as part of the final solution. We’re not supposed to say what really happened to them anymore.”
“Oh yes, Sprachregelung! Your friend Eichmann thought of that one, Ralf. We have to use politically correct language now, words and phrases that are either neutral or positive. So instead of saying we are getting rid of the Jews by slaughtering them, we say we are sending them for special treatment as part of the final solution to the Jewish problem. It sounds a lot less unsavoury don’t you think?”
I was becoming concerned. I had read the words
final solution
and
special treatment
in a few of my recent communiqués regarding the Parisian round-up but had ignored them for exactly that reason.
“Is that what we are doing in the morning”, I asked, “rounding them up so we can slaughter them?”
“Yep!” Wenzel replied, “Are you up to it?”
I didn’t know if I was. I had failed in Liditz.
“We know what happened in Liditz.” Markus said. “Don’t worry about it too much. It was your first time and Böhme is a pig…”
“…with a big mouth.” Wenzel added. “You don’t have to shoot anyone tomorrow Ralf. Just get them out of the houses and on to the trucks. The police will do the rest. ”
“How do you feel about what we are doing to the Jews?” I asked.
“Do you want the official party answer?” Markus joked. I shook my head.
“No. Tell me what you really think.”
“Why should I tell you?” Markus replied. “You worked for Eichmann.”
“I don’t anymore. And I’m a bit drunk now so I probably won’t remember any of this in the morning.”
Markus laughed. Wenzel poured me another drink.
“To be honest, I couldn’t give a shit about them.” Markus said, “I couldn’t give a shit about anyone really. I’m here to look after myself…”
“…and me!” Wenzel added.
“And you and Ralf and my family.” He raised his glass.
“What about our National Socialist ideals?” I asked.
They looked at each other, paused then burst into raucous laughter.
“Our what?” Wenzel spluttered.
“Our commitment to racial purity. Isn’t that why we are getting rid of the Jews?”
“You don’t believe all that nonsense, do you?” asked Markus. “All the talk about the Aryans and Atlantis and the Holy Grail was just Himmler’s fantasy Ralf. It didn’t mean anything.”
“So why are you doing it?”
“I’m doing it because they tell me to do it. I’m a soldier and we are at war. You do what you’re told during war Ralf. No questions asked.”
“Me too!” Wenzel said. “People do it for all sorts of reasons. Some like Böhme enjoy killing, others really believe what they have been told and many are in it for what they can get out of it, but the majority just do it. What about you Ralf? Why are you doing it?
I wasn’t sure. I had thought I knew why but after Liditz everything changed. I had believed I was making a career for myself, looking after my family and I had believed all that I had heard at Nuremburg, everything I had been told about belonging to a new age, my destiny and my youth. After they left I sat for a while thinking about what I was doing. I thought about Leni. I didn’t love her and never had. I had been forced to marry her. I could have refused but I was frightened. That was why I admired Jurgen. He knew no fear. He stood tall and took responsibility for himself. I merely pretended to do that. I hid behind the words of others and this justified my actions. It was a convenience. I didn’t have to think about what I was doing. But now I was thinking. Did I believe what the Fuhrer told me? I remembered his words at Nuremburg;
you are experiencing the birth of a great age
but the words that kept returning to me were Thomas Mann’s,
...to rest in the arms of perfection is the desire of any man intent upon creating excellence.
The Fuhrer talked about perfection and he demanded excellence. Markus and Wenzel did not care about the Jews but I did. I cared about how different they were and how their blood was so different to mine. I cared about my country, my history, my legacy and how it was being destroyed by those who did not care. Yes I had accepted favours like the apartment in Prague but I deserved it. I had worked hard for our project to succeed. I had thought briefly about the family who had to give way so I could have their home. Where were they now? Did I really care? No. Ours was the perfect ideal. I believed it.
I wakened the following morning at two am. We were to move before dawn when everyone was sleeping. That way we could be sure of maximum success. I was assigned to Le Marais, the Jewish quarter and had lists of all Jews selected for re-settlement. We travelled in a convoy of jeeps and trucks arriving there at three. Waiting for us was a large contingent of police who would direct us to the addresses. We began to move from house to house. Each house contained a number of apartments so progress was slow as we had to interview everyone in each apartment and ascertain their identity. There was some resistance and on occasion some police resorted to violence. I permitted it but drew the line at looting.
Eventually we came to
Place du Marché Sainte-Catherine,
a small square with lots of beech trees. I instructed one group of soldiers and police to begin at the flower shop on the corner and work round. I would start at the other end. Three policemen accompanied me. Eventually we entered one house and began moving through the building. On the first floor we banged the door as usual. I heard someone complaining. When the door opened I saw an old man with a beard. One of the policemen opened the door wider and shouted for everyone in the apartment to wake up. The bearded man led us to the living room. I noticed he was walking with a stick and I felt that I had met him before. He was joined by his son and daughter-in law.
“Are you the Rabbi?” I asked the middle-aged man. He looked at me blankly before replying,
“I have no idea what you are saying.”
One of the policemen translated.
“Are you the Rabbi? Answer quickly.”
He looked at me again.
“Have we met before sir? I seem to recognise you.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that and I could see the policemen smiling. This was becoming ridiculous. I stepped forward and slapped him hard on the cheek forcing him to stumble back on to the couch.
“
Tell me old man tell me quick, for I want to know everything now.” I shouted at him. The policemen translated. The woman pleaded with me to stop. I turned to the son and asked him in French,
“Is he the Rabbi?”
The son nodded. I told the policemen to take him. The son said something about the Rabbi’s stick. The policemen stopped.
“No, take him, take him”, I ordered. “He won’t need his walking stick.”
I instantly regretted saying that but carried on regardless. The woman was now crying so I beckoned the couple to sit and lifted a chair from the dining table. I noticed some dust on the seat so I shook it before sitting down. I was wary of getting stains on my trousers so was quite cautious of how sat on the chair. I removed my cap, placed it on my lap and introduced myself.
“I am
Oberscharfuhrer
Ralf Hartmaan. You are?” I asked them.
The man introduced himself as Paul Politzer and his wife was Camille. I asked him if the Rabbi was his father. He said he was and then began asking me where the police had taken him. I told him to forget about his father and asked him about his work.
“I own a small art shop in Rue des Rosiers.” He replied.
“Jewish Art?” I enquired.
“Not particularly! Most of the work is my own.”
I remembered my mother telling me about the art shops in Le Marais.
“And your wife?”
“She teaches music at L’Academie Musicale de Villecroze.”
I looked at his wife. She was uncannily Aryan in appearance and reminded me of Leni. Politzer suddenly shouted,
“Can you please not touch those?”
I noticed the remaining policeman examining a fine collection of Samovars on the sideboard. They looked silver. He smiled and showed me one. I remarked on how nice it looked. Politzer asked me to tell the policeman to put the samovar down but I ignored him. I was more interested in his wife Camille and asked her if she was a singer. She looked frightened so I re-assured her by telling her about my mother. I described her singing from
Peer Gynt
and how she stood at the window silhouetted against the light. I could see it so clearly. Camille looked at me. I felt that she understood.
“You are a singer also?” I repeated my question.
“And you are Cecilia Hartmaan’s son, Ralf”
“You know my mother?”
She told me she sang with her in
Carmen
. I tried to remember if I had seen her the night I attended the performance.
“You visited Paris and joined us in La Coupole after the performance. I remember you not being that impressed with Alex. He kept making fun of you”
Of course, she was the girl from the Cathar country.
“You didn’t like the word,
crusade
.” I remarked.
She nodded and smiled,
“I will sing for you Herr Hartmaan”, she replied, “and when you return to Berlin please tell your mother you met Camille Berman and that she sends her love.”
The gendarme laughed.
She began to sing. Her voice was beautiful. I could not understand the words but I had no problem understanding the music; a joyous evocation of love.
Then the uneasiness I felt the previous night returned and with it the confusion. I heard the policeman laughing.
Böhme’s words rang in my ear,
“What are you doing here? You’re a fucking disgrace”.
I felt nauseas and at that moment my heart returned to Leni and Resi. For a second it shone with desire as I imagined their smiling faces blessing me with love. I noticed tears gathering in Camille’s eyes as she sang to me but they were not tears of joy. It was the same look I had witnessed on the faces of the men and boys at Liditz.
This had to end.