Authors: Leon Uris
“In a libel action, the plaintiff has to prove three things. First, did the defendants publish those words. Well they don’t deny that. Secondly, did the words refer to my client? They’re not contesting that either. And finally, were the words defamatory. We would have to prove that except the defendant admits they are defamatory. Technically, my case is over with, and I could say go on and prove your case. But I intend to call forward Sir Adam Kelno and let you judge the character of this man and therefore the extent to which he has been libeled.”
Highsmith became cynical. “Oh well, the defense says, that figure of fifteen thousand is not really accurate and by the way we know he didn’t really operate without anesthetics. Well, they say, maybe several hundred or several dozen. You see, they really don’t know. You will appreciate, of course, that Sir Adam Kelno was not a German, not a Nazi, but a Polish prisoner. An ally who was subjected to all sorts of terror saved only by the fact he was a skilled physician, and he used that skill to help his fellow creatures. He was an ally whose personal courage saved thousands. ... Yes, I will use the number of thousands in clear voice, thousands from disease and death. The fact is, Sir Adam Kelno did perform or assist in some twenty thousand operations, but they were proper, necessary operations, and moreover risked his own life as a member of the underground.”
Sir Robert Highsmith went into Kelno’s escape to England, his knighthood, and his distinguished work.
“This man has come here to clear his name. The printers of this book,” he said, snatching it up and holding it high, “recognized what they had done and had the sense to apologize in open court and you might think that Abraham Cady and David Shawcross would have done the same instead of forcing us to travel this bitter road. You are a British jury and it is your charge to determine the severity of what has been done in an admitted libel to this innocent man.”
2
“S
IR
A
DAM
K
ELNO
.”
He arose from the solicitor’s table and gave the tiniest smile to Angela and Terry and walked up to the witness box, which stood to the left of the Queen’s Bench and directly over the filled press rows.
“On which Bible do you wish to be sworn?”
“I am a Roman Catholic.”
“The Douay Bible, please.”
The judge turned to Kelno. “I presume you will be in the witness box for quite a period. I suggest that the usher bring you a chair.”
“Thank you, my Lord.”
Sir Robert Highsmith established through Kelno a history from the graduation from medical school, the coming of the war, the joining of the underground, the arrest by the Gestapo, the fearful inquisition and the imprisonment in Jadwiga Concentration Camp in the summer of 1940.
“We were registered, bathed, shaven clean all over, and issued striped uniforms.”
“What sort of work did you do when you first arrived?”
“General labor.”
“Did the Germans realize you were a doctor?”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. In the confusion of thousands of slave labor arriving, my records may have been overlooked. In the beginning I was afraid to say I was a doctor because of the German policy of destroying educated and professional Poles.”
“But you changed your mind later?”
“Yes. I saw the suffering, and I felt I could help. I could not go on hiding my profession.”
“You yourself were a victim of the early conditions, were you not?”
“I came down with typhus from the lice. I was extremely sick for several months. When I recovered I made application for transfer to the medical compound and was admitted.”
“In addition to typhus, did you suffer otherwise?”
“Yes, personal indignities.”
“Once, twice?”
“On dozens of occasions. We were punished for real or imagined infractions. The corporal in charge ran us from place to place. We were not allowed to walk. For standard punishment we were made to squat and duck walk hundreds of meters and if we fell behind we were beaten. There was also a serious outbreak of dysentery which I contracted. That was actually when I revealed I was a doctor. The Germans could not handle the epidemic.”
“And after the epidemic subsided?”
“I was allowed to organize a surgical out patient clinic in a couple of the medical barracks. I treated things that could be done simply such as boils, abscesses, minor injuries.”
“Now, we are speaking of late in 1940. Would you describe the general condition of the medical facility?”
“Bad. We were short on all supplies and even had to use paper bandages.”
“Were there any other qualified prisoner surgeons working with you?”
“Not at first. I had some assistants. The hospital facility was soon overrun with hematoma cases.”
“Would you explain that?”
“Severe bruising, particularly in the buttocks, causing excess bleeding in the tissues. They became septic or infected. Sometimes they contained a pint of pus. This affected the muscles so that the patient could not walk, sit, or lie down. So, I performed surgery to alleviate the suffering by an incision, a draining, and a gradual healing.”
“What was the cause of these hematoma cases?”
“Beatings by the Germans.”
“Dr. Kelno, did you do any amputations in this early period?”
“Yes, mostly of small limbs such as fingers and toes due to frostbite or having been broken beyond healing by German beatings.”
Highsmith took off his glasses and leaned hard toward the witness box. “Dr. Kelno,” he said in a rising voice, “did you ever operate when it wasn’t necessary?”
“Never. Not then or later. Never.”
“Now then, during this time from the end of 1940 into 1942, how were you treated?”
“I was beaten on numerous occasions.”
“And what was the effect of those beatings?”
“Enormous bruises, some the size of a soccer ball. The pain was excruciating. I ran a temperature and my legs swelled until I developed varicose veins and formed phlebolith stones, which were removed after the war.”
“When did things take a turn at Jadwiga?”
“In the middle of 1941 when the Germans attacked Russia. Jadwiga was a major camp of slave labor which manufactured many things essential to the German war effort. They realized they were losing too many days of work by their brutal treatment of prisoners so they decided to develop reasonably proper medical facilities.”
“Can you recall a particular event that triggered the building of proper facilities?”
“In midwinter of 1941 a cold wave struck and we had thousands of cases of pneumonia, frostbite, and shock from exposure on our hands. We had little to treat them with, only water to drink. They were stretched out on the barrack floors side by side with barely room to walk between them and they died by the hundreds. Dead people cannot work in factories so the Germans changed their minds.”
“I’m curious, Dr. Kelno, if the Germans kept count of the dead?”
“The Germans have a phobia about keeping meticulous records. During the epidemic they kept count by numerous daily roll calls that began at five-thirty in the morning. The living had to carry the dead outside. Everyone had to be accounted for.”
“I see, well get back to that later. So after the epidemic in the winter of 1941 you were allowed to build a proper facility.”
“More or less. We did not have enough materials so at night when the compound was clear of SS we went out on raiding parties. Later more supplies became available but never enough. However, it was made more bearable as other doctors were assigned to me. I was able to set up a fairly decent surgery in Barrack XX. The German doctors sent to work with prisoners were inferior and slowly the prisoner/doctors began taking over.”
“And what of your own personal position in all this?”
“For two years I was the chief surgeon and then in August of 1943 I was made titular supervisor of the entire medical facility.”
“Titular?”
“Yes, SS Dr. Colonel Adolph Voss was the true superior and any other SS doctors had command of my activities.”
“Did Voss come in to see you often?”
“He was mostly in Barrack I through V. I stayed away as much as possible.”
“Why?”
“He was carrying on experiments.”
Sir Robert slowed and changed the volume and pace of his voice to denote a key question. “Were any records kept of your operations and treatments?”
“I insisted on accurate records. I felt it important so that there could never be doubts of my behavior later.”
“In what manner were these records kept?”
“In a surgical register.”
“One volume?”
“Several volumes were filled.”
“Listing every treatment or operation?”
“Yes.”
“And signed by you?”
“Yes.”
“Who kept this register?”
“A medical clerk. A Czech. I forgot his name.”
Abe passed a note to Shawcross.
I FEEL LIKE STANDING UP AND YELLING “SOBOTNIK” AND SEE IF HE REMEMBERS.
“Do you know what became of the registers?”
“I have no idea. Most of the camp was in chaos when the Russians arrived. I wish to God we had the registers here now because it would prove my innocence.”
Sir Robert was struck silent. The judge turned slowly to Kelno. “Sir Adam,” Gilray said, “with reference to proof of your innocence. You are the plaintiff in this case, not the defendant.”
“I meant ... clear my name.”
“Continue, Sir Robert,” the judge said.
Highsmith jumped in quickly to erase the effect of Sir Adam’s bumble. “Now, all this time you were still a prisoner under German supervision.”
“Yes. Always a prisoner. The SS had orderlies to watch our every move.”
“Can you tell us the particular significance of Jadwiga West?”
“It was the extermination facility.”
“And you know that for a fact?”
“It was common knowledge. History has since proved it. I never personally saw Jadwiga West, but I was first informed by the underground.”
“And these German orderlies under Dr. Voss, did they have any other duties than to spy on you?”
“They selected from my patients ... victims for the gas chamber at Jadwiga West.”
A hush descended on the courtroom. And again, all that was heard was the clock. Englishmen had only heard of this in abstract. Here before them, Sir Adam Kelno, the color of white paste, had drawn the curtain and was playing on a stage of memory and horror.
“Would you like a recess?” the judge asked.
“No,” Adam answered. “Not a day passes in my life that I do not remember.”
Sir Robert sighed, clutched the lapels of his robe, and lowered his voice so the jury had to strain to catch his words. “In which manner were these people selected?”
“Sometimes the German would just point a finger at people as he passed through the ward. Those who looked the least able to survive.”
“How many?”
“It depended on how many were shipped to Jadwiga West from the outside. They filled the gas chamber quotas from the hospital. A hundred a day. Some days, two or three hundred. When thousands of Hungarians were shipped in they left us alone for a time.”
“How far was Jadwiga West located from your compound?”
“Three miles. We could see it. And ... we could smell it.”
Abraham Cady was thrown back to his own visit to Jadwiga and it was all vivid again. For an instant he looked to Adam Kelno with remorse. How in the name of God could any man stand up against what was going on?
“What did you personally do about the German selections?”
“Well, when they made a selection they painted a number on the victim’s chest. We found that it could be easily washed off. We would replace them with patients who had died during the night. Since the Germans did not personally handle the bodies we were able to get away with it for a time.”
“How many people were you able to save by this method?”
“Ten to twenty out of every hundred.”
“For how long?”
“Many months.”
“Would it be fair to say you saved several thousand people in this manner?”
“We were too busy saving lives to count.”
“And did you use other methods to trick the Germans?”
“When they suspected we were sending corpses to Jadwiga West, they made up lists of names so we switched names. Many people alive today carried the name of a dead person for years in the camp. We studied their plans through the underground and often knew in advance when selections were going to be made. I would clear out the hospital wards as much as possible by sending people back to work or hiding them.”
“When you did this, did you take into consideration the national or religious origin of these prisoners?”
“Lives were lives. We saved those we felt had the best chance of survival.”
Highsmith let all of this sink in for a moment turning to Chester Dicks, his junior, and fetching needed information. He turned back to the rostrum.
“Dr. Kelno. Did you ever give your own blood?”
“Yes, on numerous occasions. There were certain intellectuals, scholars, musicians, writers, we were determined to keep alive and at times we donated our own blood.”
“Would you tell the court what your own personal accommodations were like?”
“I shared a barrack with about sixty male staff.”
“And your bed?”
“A straw mattress stuffed inside with heavy paper. We had a sheet, a pillow, and a blanket.”
“And where did you take your meals?”
“At a small kitchen in one end of the same room.”
“What type of sanitation facility did you have?”
“One toilet, four sinks, and a shower.”
“And what kind of clothing did you wear?”
“A sort of striped denim.”
“With distinctive markings.”
“All prisoners had a triangle sewn over their left breast pocket. Mine was red denoting I was a political prisoner and there was a “P” superimposed to denote I was Polish.”
“Now, in addition to the extermination facilities at Jadwiga West, were there any other kinds of killings?”
“In addition to the SS, German criminal prisoners and German Communists were put in charge of the others and were often as brutal as the SS. Anyone they wished to eliminate they simply beat to death, then hanged the victim with his own belt and registered the death as a suicide. The SS knew these brutes were doing their work so they turned their backs.”