Hanns and Rudolf: The True Story of the German Jew Who Tracked Down and Caught the Kommandant of Auschwitz

by Thomas Harding

  Owing to the peculiar qualities of Captain Alexander’s character, he is invariably chosen for the most hazardous tasks, and in fact at the moment has been detailed by me to carry out a priority investigation into a German harem. This will, of course, entail working at high pressure by day and night, but in spite of working single handed, it is anticipated that with Captain Alexander’s enthusiasm and drive the job should be completed in time for a well earned rest at Christmas in order that he may replenish the lead in his pencil.

  In conclusion Madam, may I wish you a very happy Christmas, but I feel I must add a word of sympathy with you in your gallant, but I fear, unavailing task, of piloting Captain Alexander successfully through the troubled waters of married life.

  I am, Madam, your obedient servant

  T. H. Tilling (Lt Col)

  P.S. Actually Alex has no excuse, so if I were you I’d make your next letter even stronger.

  Having read the exchange between his girlfriend and his commander, Hanns wrote a letter, which he admitted was “long overdue,” to Ann, or “Poppit,” as he called her. It was three pages, and written on stationery stolen from Gustav Simon. He explained that he had been busy tracking down the Gauleiter, which took more time than he had expected, as he had “put his pride into catching the swine.” He jokingly thanked her for sending her ring finger size, though made it clear that he was not ready to commit, at least for the present. But he did reassure her that he remained loyal to her despite their being so far apart. “Don’t worry about me keeping the Dutch girls warm. I have not got much time to keep anybody warm these days.” He said he would buy her an umbrella from Brussels the next time he visited the city and promised to arrange a leave soon, maybe after Christmas. “Otherwise there is little news here. Plenty of work, and no Xmas spirit as we’re used to when in the city at this time of year.”

  A few days after returning from Luxembourg, Hanns joined his colleagues in the Belsen Officers Club for the 1945 Boxing Day dance. As men and women in uniform crowded together drinking punch, Hanns regaled his colleagues with stories. Above the Yuletide clamor hung a warm veil of excitement, for many would soon be going home, after six years at war.

  Belsen had by now been transformed from a German concentration camp into a massive displaced persons’ facility. The original barracks had been burned by the British, in an effort to rid the area of disease. The more than 10,000 people that remained in the camp, almost all of whom were Jewish, were housed in a set of old army buildings. Conditions had vastly improved, but most of the survivors were desperate to return home. At the time, it was almost impossible to leave the camp, let alone cross a national border. Belsen was effectively under quarantine.

  As Hanns walked around the crowded club that night, he noticed an attractive-looking young woman sitting in the corner. She had shoulder-length brown hair and differed from many in the room in that she hadn’t dressed up for the occasion. Apparently impressed by the woman’s lack of pretense, he introduced himself and asked her to dance. As they swirled around the dance floor, she told him that her name was Anita Lasker and that, from time to time, she helped the British with translating. She too was a German Jew and had been deported to Auschwitz, only surviving by playing the cello in the Women’s Orchestra.

  As they danced, Anita asked if Hanns could help get her and her sister out of the camp. Like the other thousands of former inmates who were still living in Belsen, the two sisters had been unable to secure travel permits to another country. Anita said that if Hanns could get them as far as Brussels, they could then make their own way to London. He agreed and they made plans to meet at the main gate at seven the next morning. Anita then returned to her barracks and stayed up all night forging documents which she hoped would help her out of the country: “The above mentioned ex-internee of Belsen Concentration Camp is authorized to travell [sic] to Brussels in order to complete repatriation procedure. She is to travel in the custody of Capt. Alexander 12–27–45.”

  Anita Lasker (center), Belsen, December 1945

  At seven the next morning, Anita and her sister waited nervously by the camp’s main guard post. Next to them stood Anita’s cello and an old typewriter case full of their combined belongings. As the minutes went by, she watched the guard raise and lower the red-and-white-striped barrier, allowing trucks to enter and leave the camp. Prisoners wandered along the dusty track in twos and threes to the food tent, where they had breakfast and, an hour or so later, trudged back to the barracks to fill their days playing cards, writing letters or dozing. With every passing minute Anita became more anxious. But Hanns was nowhere to be seen. As the hours went by, Anita began to think that she had imagined the conversation from the night before. She was just about to give up hope, when Hanns pulled up in a large dark green Mercedes-Benz. “Sorry,” he said, “I slept in.”

  The two sisters climbed into the back of the vehicle, joining Lucille Eichengreen, another girl whom Hanns had invited along. Hanns and the driver sat in the front. Nobody spoke as they left Belsen and headed towards Holland.

  After three hours they arrived at the border, where a Dutch guard asked for their papers. What happened next is disputed. By Anita’s account, she handed over her obviously suspect document. The guard then pointed out that displaced people were meant to travel in transports, not in private vehicles, and it looked as if he was going to stop them. Hanns, who outranked the guard, stepped out of the car and ordered him to call headquarters. The guard obliged and within a few moments they were through the border post.

  Lucille Eichengreen remembers it slightly differently. As they arrived at the border the guards grew suspicious and started yelling. Hanns argued back but was unable to persuade the guards. He turned to the driver and told him to reverse the car and then gun it down an embankment and up another slope. “Hit the floor,” Hanns shouted. “The bastards are raising their guns.” Once at a safe distance, Hanns told them they could sit up. They had arrived in Holland.

  Whichever story is true, the car made it across the border. A few hours later, the Mercedes arrived in Brussels, and Hanns, his driver and the three young women spent the night with a friend of Hanns’s mother. This was the first time in six years that any of the girls had slept in a real bed with clean sheets or washed with running hot water.

  The next day, having helped the girls on their journeys, Hanns returned to Belsen.

  *

  After months of procrastination, Hanns finally decided it was time to propose to Ann. He had hoped to be demobilized before becoming engaged, and for a long time he had put Ann off by explaining that they should wait until he had a job and a place to call home. But the war was over and her patience had worn thin. Thankfully, Hanns’s commanding officer agreed to his extended leave.

  In January 1946, Hanns hitched a ride on a series of military trucks and cars, which drove from Belsen, past the ruins and chaos of Holland, Belgium and France. He then caught a boat from Calais to Dover, where he hopped on a train to London. As usual, his twin brother, Paul—who was still working in the prisoner-of-war camp in north Germany—was in tune with his plans and was also in town.

  Hanns spent a week with Ann, catching up on news and spending a couple of evenings at the movies. Over a coffee at a small table in the Lyons Corner House, where they had gone on their first date, Hanns asked Ann to marry him. Although she had heard from Hanns’s sister Elsie that the proposal was on its way, hearing it from Hanns in person proved to be a great relief to Ann. Of course, she said yes. They agreed to postpone the wedding until he was out of the army and able to support them both.

  Back in Germany, Hanns’s bosses at the War Crimes Group were drumming their fingers. They needed their investigator back.

  15

  HANNS AND RUDOLF

  GOTTRUPEL AND BELSEN, GERMANY

  1946

  * * *

  Rudolf continued to meet his brother-in-law in the early months of 1946. On March 3, Fritz drove to the farm in Gottrupel to hand over some l
etters from Hedwig and update Rudolf on the family. They had now moved from the hut to an apartment above an old sugar factory in St. Michaelisdonn. Their new home was less exposed to the elements, its roof did not leak and the wind did not penetrate the walls, but Hedwig still struggled to take care of her children.

  The one blessing was that Leo Helger, for many years Rudolf’s driver at Auschwitz, had managed to track them down (perhaps via one of the other SS officers who had gathered in Flensburg), and passed on money and a few items rescued from Rudolf’s accommodation in Berlin: an engraved cigar slicer, a dagger with the SS symbol on its hilt, and a large iron box carved with ancient rune symbols which had been a gift from Himmler.

  Hedwig was grateful for the money, but it did not last long. Food was hard to come by, and the weather was freezing. With few clothes to keep them warm and no money to pay for any kind of assistance, the children had taken to stealing coal from the train cars that stopped for a few hours each week in a siding near the sugar factory. However, these stolen briquettes provided enough heat for only two days, leaving the family without warmth for the remainder of the week. Hedwig had made wooden clogs for the children to wear, and while this was an improvement to walking around barefoot in the snow, they were no substitute for real shoes. Brigitte’s feet had become frostbitten, and Hedwig dealt with this by placing a piece of liver on each foot and then wrapping them in old rags. They needed better clothes, more heat and more suitable housing. There was no solution in sight. Rudolf was tantalizingly close, but could do nothing to help as his family suffered.

  Fritz and Rudolf also talked about the future, particularly the problems that the family would face if they remained in Germany. The resistance movement, such as it was, had failed. There was no hope of the Nazi Party regaining power. The Americans, Soviets and British had total control of the country. Most of the top party leaders and SS officers had been arrested and were standing trial. Many had been hanged.

  One option discussed by Rudolf and Fritz was smuggling the family out of the country. Many high-ranking members of the SS and National Socialist Party planned or had already taken this path, typically making their new homes in South America. The list included Adolf Eichmann, with whom Rudolf had worked closely during the liquidation of the Hungarian Jews; Franz Stangl, the former Treblinka Kommandant whom Rudolf had met during one of his many tours; as well as Josef Mengele, the notorious Auschwitz doctor with whom Rudolf had worked and socialized. These Nazis fled along established routes, or “ratlines.” One ran south, via Italy or Spain. Another route ran north, through Denmark and Sweden. Given his location, this would be the one that Rudolf would take.

  But if Rudolf were to flee, he would have to journey ahead alone. Traveling with a wife and five children would be too dangerous for them all. Rudolf struggled with this decision. He did not want to abandon his family, but he knew that if he were caught he would be of no use to them. After much thought, he decided to leave. He would somehow arrange for the family to join him later. Now that the decision was made, there were arrangements to be set in motion, people to be contacted, tickets to be purchased. Fritz would help with the preparations.

  In the meantime, one of the most wanted men in Germany would remain hidden, waiting for the right moment to make his move.

  *

  In early January 1946, the British War Office in London sent a memo to the War Crimes Group in Germany, criticizing its lack of progress in tracking down the war criminals who were still at large and describing the members of the unit as “static minded.” Group Captain Somerhough wrote back and explained, tersely, that his men could not be faulted for their lack of progress given how severely they were hampered by supply shortages.

  We have found twenty-four wanted men, taken over one thousand statements. A check on correspondence emanating from this team with regard to vehicles, the need for mechanics and policemen, will show that for months past we have been screaming for facilities to make us less “static minded.” We cannot move if we have no transport.

  It was time to shift strategy. Following Hanns’s successful arrest of Gustav Simon, Somerhough decided that rather than continuing to interrogate the Nazi officials already in custody, they should attempt to track down the uncaptured war criminals, focusing on a number of high-profile cases which he deemed winnable in court. Somerhough now instructed the War Crimes Group to zero in on the men who ran the concentration camp inspectorate, Amtsgruppe D.

  In a memo written in the third week of January 1946, Lieutenant Colonel Tilling outlined his plans: he would send two investigators to Amtsgruppe D’s headquarters in Berlin. One would be Major Caola, a barrister from London who had recently joined the team; the other was Captain H. H. Alexander. The only problem was that Hanns was still in Britain with his new fiancée.

  18 January 1946

  Subject: Availability of Capt HH Alexander PC

  DJAG (War Crimes Section)

  HQ BOAR

  1. Reference your BAOR/ 15228/ 2/ c.1821 dated 12 Jan 46

  2. Captain ALEXANDER will be instructed to report to you immediately on his return from leave, which is expected to be 24 Jan 1946.

  3. At the moment, Major CAOLA is acquainting himself with the Amtsgruppe D set-up and it had been the intention that he should be responsible for the investigations in this department. In view of this Major CAOLA will be interrogating the members of Amtsgruppe D known by this team to be in custody.

  4. It was understood that Captain ALEXANDER would be engaged mainly on the location and arrest of further wanted persons from Amtsgruppe D. It is suggested that it would be preferable if Major CAOLA could be present at any interrogation of such persons located by Captain ALEXANDER.

  Commander No 1 War Crimes Investigation Team

  Lt Col Tilling

  (HOHNE) Belsen Camp

  In the last week of January, Hanns arrived back at 1 WCIT’s headquarters. He was hastily briefed by Tilling, and then, four days later, on January 28, 1946, Hanns and Major Caola drove out of the camp towards Berlin.

  After ten years away, Hanns found the city unrecognizable. The two men slowly navigated the snowy streets, horrified at the scale of the devastation: the People’s Court, the Reich Chancellery and the Gestapo headquarters had all been heavily damaged; the shopping district of Unter den Linden, where Hanns had been taken by his nanny to buy his birthday presents, was also damaged. Many of Berlin’s finest monuments lay in ruins. The Neue Synagogue on Oranienburger Strasse, where Hanns had been bar mitzvahed, was little more than a blackened carcass, having received a direct hit from a British firebomb.

  Hanns then drove to Berlin’s west end to see his old neighborhood. His father’s four-story sanatorium on Achenbachstrasse had been reduced to a pile of rocks and timber. Around the corner the apartment building on Kaiserallee, where Hanns had grown up, was still standing, although it looked as if it would soon have to be torn down. Even the zoo, which he had visited so often as a young boy, had not escaped the destruction; its monkey house and reptile buildings were now shells, although the animals, luckily, had been removed before the bombs had hit.

  In a letter to his parents, Hanns described the damage: “Berlin as a town has had it, for twenty years I reckon at least. What is not destroyed by bombs was done in by street fighting. Kaiserallee 220 finished, Achenbachstr. 15 finished . . . Adlon, Eden, and all the decent hotels have had it. We were in the Savoy in the Fasenenstrasse, first class, with the exception of hot water, which is only available Sunday afternoons. I passed Glienicke. House O.K. Garden very verwildert [wild]. And looks tiny, as the trees etc are all so big, that it looks much more closed in and smaller.” He added that he had news on his father’s First World War colleague who had defended their home during the 1933 Jewish boycott. While he did not know the cause or the circumstances, sadly he could now confirm that “Oberst Meyer is dead.”

  Hanns next went to the Red Cross offices, where he learned that his great-aunt Cäcilie Bing had been put on a transport and
sent to Auschwitz in September 1942. From his time in Belsen and having followed the War Crimes Trials, Hanns knew that if she had reached Auschwitz then it was unlikely that she would have survived.

  Hanns spent the next few days checking the rest of the names that had been given to him by Ann and his sisters. The story was always the same: “No, the person is no longer living in Berlin” and “Yes, they had been sent to the camps in the East.” He walked up and down the streets of Wilmersdorf, the Jewish neighborhood where his family had lived—Fasanenstrasse, Kurfürstendamm, Rankeplatz—checking the old grocers, shoemakers, tailors and jewelers he had once frequented. Hanns was unable to find a single person who remembered him. It was as if this part of his history had been wiped clean.

  Hanns rejoined Major Caola and together they drove out to Oranienburg to investigate the T-building, the offices of the Concentration Camp Inspectorate. Remarkably, the structure had survived the war. Hanns opened the large front doors and, walking into the main hallway, he found an office layout chart hanging on the wall. The map detailed the name of each office’s occupant, along with their titles and their telephone numbers. For the next few hours Caola and Hanns worked their way through the now deserted offices, searching the desks and cabinets for any information that would lead them to the wanted men. The exploration was fruitless. The building’s archives had been destroyed, just as Himmler had ordered.

  With little in the way of physical evidence, Hanns and Caola set off in search of former staff. They first visited an American-run prisoner-of-war camp located just outside the city center. There they found Karl Sommer, the thirty-one-year-old from Cologne who had been third in command at Amtsgruppe D, beneath Richard Glücks and Gerhard Maurer. Sommer told them that the Concentration Camp Inspectorate leaders had headed north in April 1945, just before the war’s end. He also provided a clear outline of who had worked for whom in the T-building, and from this they drew a chart.