“There’s nothing to talk about anymore, Ernst. We’re already at war.”
I hung up and sat back on the chair by the dining table. Geli crouched in front of me, placing her delicate hands on my knee and searching my face with her eyes.
“Has something happened, schatzi?”
I shifted my eyes from the floor to her pretty little face, adorned with soft blonde curls.
“Nothing, Geli. I just killed thirty people.”
She opened her full, rosy mouth, processing my words. Silly little thing she was, she wouldn’t know what I was talking about even if I said it to her openly.
“You’re joking again, yes?” She made her conclusion regarding my confession, an uncertain smile playing on her lips. “So mean you are, always making fun of me.”
“Yes, my darling.” I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “I always joke with you. Now, where are those delicious sandwiches you promised?”
Geli presented me with another shining smile and jumped to her feet.
“I forgot that I was making them with the radio and the whole war thing. I’ll finish them right away!”
Silly little thing. Behind her back I squeezed my eyes with my hand.
Chapter 4
Nuremberg prison, April 1946
I squeezed my eyes with my hand when Dr. Goldensohn once again tried to get a personal confession out of me.
“I’ve told you already, doctor, I don’t like talking about my personal life.”
“Why not? Everybody else does. They seem to find it a welcome distraction from everything else they have to talk about most of the time.” The interpreter, sitting next to me on my cot, finished translating Dr. Goldensohn’s words.
Sensing my reluctance, the American pulled forward slightly in his chair. “You don’t have to get into your private matters too much. You can just tell me about your wife or… whoever else you want to talk about.”
I chuckled softly.
“Eager to know about all my mistresses?”
“Sometimes when you go through your past encounters, it helps you understand yourself in the present.”
“If I start going through all of my past encounters, one by one, we’ll be sitting here like in that Arabic tale till the end of time.”
“What Arabic tale?”
“My daughter loved it a lot. The Scheherazade tale, in which a cruel king selected a new beautiful bride every month, would spend a night with her and then behead her in the morning. And when it was Scheherazade’s turn to become the king’s bride, on her wedding night the shrewd girl started telling him the most fascinating tale he’d ever heard, and then ended it abruptly with the sunrise. The king demanded that she continued, but she insisted that she’d only finish telling it on the following night. And as that story ended, she immediately started another one, even better than the first, and ended that one in the middle as the morning broke, as well. So, night after night Scheherazade kept telling the king her tales and he never killed her.” I gave my psychiatrist a mischievous look. “So, doctor, do you still want to hear my stories? I’m just afraid that you won’t be able to hang me once I start.”
“Are they really so fascinating?” Goldensohn smiled as well.
“You have no idea.”
_______________
Warsaw, September 1939
I had no idea how many aspirins it would take to get rid of the terrible headache I had. Heydrich’s shrill voice only worsened it. I was surprised when Arthur Seyss-Inquart informed me that I was ordered to go to Warsaw as the State Secretary of Security of Austria, pardon me, Ostmark. There was no Austria anymore, as it ceased to exist in March 1938 when it became a part of the Great German Reich. I was the one fighting so ardently for the Anschluss, and yet I winced unwillingly every time the Germans corrected me politely when I called my country by its old name.
Parts of the Polish capital were still smoldering from the bombings by our Luftwaffe, and Reichsführer SS Heinrich Himmler had already set up his headquarters in the former government building. He was presiding over the meeting where all the chiefs of departments were present, and yet he was barely making any remarks.
I knew this habit of his from before. Himmler rarely expressed any particular opinions or gave direct orders, instead he shifted this responsibility to his immediate subordinates, Heydrich being first in line. He did it purposely, in case something went wrong. The head of the unfortunate subordinate would roll and not his own, while he would just smile that enigmatic smile of his, with the curiosity of an observer, as if it wasn’t his idea that the subordinate was just expressing. Another difficulty was when Heydrich addressed us during such meetings: I couldn’t figure out if it was his words or Reichsführer’s, and therefore I just sat there, making meaningless notes in my notepad and hoping to find a decent bar, not touched by bombs, after everything was over.
“Now for the Amt IV.” I looked up from my papers as soon as Heydrich mentioned the Gestapo. “After our brave Wehrmacht and Luftwaffe defeated the outside enemy, your goal now is to defeat the inside enemy, and I expect you to do it with the same efficiency as our troops showed. Poland has been selected as a farming ground, which will supply the great German nation with all the resources needed to feed a growing nation. It’s a big honor bestowed upon the Polish people, but never forget that it’s also their duty to serve their new German neighbors, who will take up their lands for farming needs. Ensure you collect reports about any hostile mood shown by the Polish people, and address them immediately and with severity. Any Polish citizen, suspected of having a hostile mood or any other expression of displeasure with their new position, are to be taken as an enemy of the state with protective custody orders. Public executions are welcome. Also, feel free to put the names of the traitors of the Reich, describing their heinous crimes against the Germans, into local newspapers. But submit the information to the Ministry of Propaganda first, of course. I expect there won’t be any problems sharing this responsibility between the German Gestapo and the Ostmark one.”
I shot Heydrich a hostile glance, and caught him smirking almost invisibly.
“Ostmark,” he repeated once again, not without pleasure. “I will delegate precise spheres of activities to the chiefs separately, later today. Those are the instructions concerning the general population. Let’s proceed with the Jews now. I expect the deportations to start immediately, and also—”
I interrupted him with laughter that I wasn’t able to contain. No one else joined me, of course.
“Have you found something amusing in my words, Gruppenführer Kaltenbrunner?” He leaned back into his chair, squinting his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Why yes, Gruppenführer.” I looked around at the stern faces of my German colleagues which surrounded me and, still smiling, went on. “I find it very amusing that first you decided to deport all of your German Jews, and they all came to Austria.”
“Ostmark.”
“Austria. Back then it was still Austria.” I replied defiantly, not smiling anymore. “Then you came to Austria and demanded that I deport them all someplace else. So I did. Now, the majority of the German and Austrian Jews went to Poland, and guess what? We went and occupied Poland!”
I laughed, and once again no one laughed together with me.
“Are you going to chase them all the way to Palestine?” I asked jestingly, but the high-ranking German officials seemed to suffer from a complete absence of humor. They were looking at me silently, and then at Himmler and Heydrich, as if asking their superiors how they were to react to the insane Austrian’s words.
“No, Gruppenführer Kaltenbrunner.” The Chief of the RSHA finally broke the heavy silence. “We aren’t going to chase them anymore. The deportations I’m talking about are going to happen within the state. They won’t have any place to go now.”
Another few moments of ominous silence followed, during which Heydrich was observing my reaction intently.
“I don’t unders
tand, Gruppenführer… How are you going to carry out deportations within the state?” I asked at last.
“Think, Ernst.” Himmler chimed in with a smile, reminding me of his presence.
After I remained silent for quite a while, Heydrich wrote something down on his notepad and lifted it for me to see. On a white sheet of paper there were only two letters, in black ink, KZ. Konzentrationslager.
“Concentration camps?” I voiced his unspoken answer. “But you will never be able to fit all those people into the camps that we have in the Reich. I have the statistics. There is simply not enough space. The camps that we have both in the Reich and Austria—”
“Ostmark!”
“Yes, Ostmark, are already filled almost to capacity. They might house several tens of thousands if you stuff them on top of each other in the barracks, but, Gruppenführer, you have several millions Jews! How are you going to handle them all?”
Heydrich exchanged glances with Himmler, and they both smiled the same smile at me. For some reason that smile of theirs made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“We’re working on a solution to this little problem, Gruppenführer Kaltenbrunner,” the chief of the RSHA said sweetly. “You are to document and gather them all in specially organized ghettos, so we have them all ready and in control, when we… are ready to proceed with our solution.”
He’s going to kill them all, I realized then. I’m not sure how, but he will. Away from regular people’s eyes, in the closed ghettos.
“Allow me to handle the deportations, Gruppenführer,” I blurted out before I even thought of what I was saying. Maybe there was a chance to give out border passes in exchange for their money. Himmler was after their money, surely. He was saying that he didn’t want the Jews inside the country, so there was a chance to scare them away before Heydrich got to his business. “I have quite a lot of experience after dealing with them back in Ostmark. My department successfully seized and secured multiple properties and bank accounts. I’m quite certain that I’ll be able to get the same results with these Polish Jews…”
“Gruppenführer, you don’t seem to understand.” Heydrich interlaced his fingers together, slightly tilting his head to one side. “There won’t be any need to seize their properties anymore in exchange for border passes. There won’t be any border passes anymore. The Führer doesn’t want the Jews to run to other countries. He wants them to cease to exist altogether.”
He paused, picked up his coffee cup and took a sip, without taking his eyes off me.
“You allowed too many of them to escape from Ostmark as it is, Gruppenführer. No, I have my own man, Eichmann, who will deal with them the way they ought to be dealt with. You always wanted to deal with intelligence, so I think it’s time you do that. We have Russians as our neighbors now. Go spy on them, and leave the Jews to the professionals.”
“Jawohl, Gruppenführer.”
As I was walking to my car after the meeting was over, I kept thinking of Heydrich’s words. My driver saluted me and rushed to open the door for me, but I told him that I wanted to go for a ride alone. He clicked his heels, happy to be dismissed for the rest of the day.
I carefully maneuvered my way among the smoldering buildings in the unfamiliar city and wondered what my attitude should be towards this news of a new policy concerning the Jewish population. Should I care at all about what might happen to them? If it was the Führer’s wish, he had to be right… He seemed to know what he was doing… So far everything had been going great for the Reich. Our territories had almost tripled within the course of merely a year, after Germany consumed Czechoslovakia, Austria and now Poland. There was no more unemployment with everyone engaged either in autobahn construction or moving to the newly occupied territories after they had been granted access to vast farmlands by their generous government…
But those lands were taken from their rightful owners, another inner voice joined in, very quietly.
From the Jewish owners.
So? They didn’t harm anyone. They lived in their houses and farmed their land, before we came and threw them out.
I didn’t throw anyone out! It’s all the Führer’s orders. If he thinks it’s right, then it must be right. I swore my unconditional loyalty to him, so what kind of SS soldier am I if I start questioning his actions?
But what about Heydrich? What if he does start killing them all?
What do I care? Let him do whatever he wants. It’s not my problem what he and Himmler come up with next. I did what I could for their lot as it is. I was giving everyone border passes like they were going out of style. If the Führer came up with this new idea, there’s nothing else I can do. Now, where is at least one decent bar in this goddamn city?!
Hiding your head in the sand and pretending that nothing is happening won’t solve the problem. Neither will alcohol.
Oh, go to hell! Why am I even listening to you?
Maybe because I’m your conscience, or what’s left of it?
I don’t have one. And if you really are, how much do you want to bet that I’ll make you shut up after the third glass of brandy?
The voice went quiet.
“Good! And stay quiet!” I said out loud and turned the radio on, just in case.
My mood improved a little after I smoked a cigarette and became even better after I accidentally stumbled upon my driver’s flask under the seat.
“Sneaky bastard!” I grinned after taking a sip of quite good quality cognac and decided to not even reprimand my subordinate. My headache was almost gone by that point.
I stopped by a German policeman, directing the traffic at one of the intersections, and asked him where I could possibly get tastefully drunk in this hole of a city. He chuckled and pointed me toward the location of the best restaurant on the map that my driver thoughtfully carried in the glove compartment. I thanked the policeman, who saluted me in return, and resumed my driving, studying Polish women along the road. I had a place to enjoy my drink, now if I could only find some company to share that drink with, it would definitely make me forget all my problems.
However, just my luck, all the local females were much too dark for my taste and far too modestly dressed. I started missing my Viennese beauties with their cheerful laughter and waves from the sidewalks after I honked at them. I missed tight skirts and curled hair. After driving for over ten minutes, I sighed, giving up all my hopes for a pretty Polish companion who did not look at their feet with a gloomy expression on their face, when I suddenly spotted a young woman, who definitely stood out in the crowd. To begin with, she was at least a head taller than all the local population, and a blonde on top of it. Her clothes were also of the latest fashion from Berlin.
“Hello, beautiful,” I muttered to myself, slowing down and admiring my victim, strutting down the street with her long shapely legs. I wouldn’t mind having those legs wrapped around my waist a little later, I grinned to myself. What the hell is she carrying though? A suitcase? That’s strange. Oh well, a good reason to offer her a ride then. Surely, she won’t refuse.
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, obviously waiting for the traffic light to change so she could cross the street, and tapped her foot impatiently several times, finally turning her head in my direction.
“I’ll be damned…” I stared at her, not believing the coincidence. Annalise Friedmann. What is she doing here?
I pulled up right in front of her and came out of the car. She stepped away instinctively, and finally looked at me, seeming startled for some reason. That was strange, because as I remembered it we parted ways on quite a friendly note. However, I decided to play the scary Gestapo interrogator part just to tease her.
“Frau Friedmann, you’re under arrest.”
She blinked a couple of times at me, and I congratulated myself mentally on being a great actor. She swallowed nervously, before barely whispering, “Why?”
I finally broke my game and laughed.
“For wearing a skirt like that.
You might cause a major accident on the street.”
“Pardon me, Herr Gruppenführer?” She still looked confused. But God, was she gorgeous!
Gone was the young innocent girl with big scared eyes in a modest dress. Frau Friedmann had changed a lot since that night in the Gestapo, and this new Frau Friedmann was a vixen, with cornflower blue eyes, even brighter in contrast with the mascaraed long black lashes framing them, a slight rosy blush on her high cheekbones and barely noticeable lipstick. She had certainly learnt how to tastefully accentuate all her best features and how to style her hair in the latest fashion by fixing the curls by her temples with hairpins and letting the rest of it fall to one side. I noticed in satisfaction that she neither colored it nor cut it, letting the golden locks fall almost to her small waist. Yes, it was quite an improvement, and I liked this new Frau Friedmann even better than the old one.
“What are you doing here with this thing?” I finally snapped out of my ogling and nodded at her suitcase. “Not exactly a purse I imagined a pretty girl like you to walk around with.”
She smiled at me, and even her smile was different this time. She shamelessly flashed all her perfect white teeth at me, like Melita always did.
“I’m here with my husband, Herr Gruppenführer. They lost our suitcase at the train station and I went to pick it up today since Heinrich’s at a meeting and I didn’t want to risk those people losing it again.”
“Let me give you a ride then.” I took the heavy thing out of her hand, and after putting it in my trunk, held the passenger door open for my beautiful acquaintance. She got inside in the most graceful manner and gifted me with another smile. I walked around my black Mercedes, thinking that I might like Poland after all. I definitely wouldn’t want to be in any other place right now.
I asked her if she would mind having a quick coffee with me since I missed my lunch because of all the meetings and since her husband was still working anyway. Frau Friedmann agreed much easier than I expected and for the rest of the way we made small talk about the general situation in the country and her ballet career. All of a sudden she confessed that she was thinking to quit it.
The Austrian: Book Two Page 5
