The Austrian: A War Criminal's Story

by Ellie Midwood

  “I see your point, doctor.” The American nodded several times with a pensive look on his face, and then asked after a pause, “Do you feel guilty?”

  “Do I feel guilty? Yes, I do,” I answered, surprising myself with my honesty.

  “That’s good.”

  “Is it? Doesn’t it mean that my own conscience points out to all the evil I have done?”

  “It means that you have a conscience, doctor, and that’s a good thing. Feeling guilty is always good. Calloused murderers never feel guilty.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I mumbled quietly. “I was afraid to drop the façade of a Nazi leader, to be honest with you. It has always served me as being a kind of invincible protection against absolutely everything, and now that I don’t have anything left, I feel so… vulnerable. I do try to keep my face in front of others, but I’m so tired, and so afraid of the future…”

  I hid my shaking hands in my pockets, having no idea how he made me blurt out my most sacred thoughts, which I didn’t share with anybody and which I was afraid to admit even to myself. I swallowed a lump in my throat and tried my best not to break down again in front of him. Too many times he had seen me cry before, far too many…

  “Do you have a cigarette, agent?” I begged him quietly.

  “I do, but I won’t give it to you. With your current physical state it would probably kill you instantly.”

  “More reasons to give it to me then,” I whispered to him and clasped my hand around his forearm in feverish desperation. “Or maybe you could bring me cyanide next time? I won’t take it right away, I promise. They will never know it was from you.”

  “You’re out of your mind.” He looked at me sternly, but didn’t free his hand. “Why would you do that when your case hasn’t even been heard yet?”

  “I know that they will find me guilty no matter what, agent, and I am terribly afraid of being hanged. Please, don’t refuse me that last favor… and I’ll tell you where Müller and Bormann are.”

  He stopped and studied my face, trying to figure out if I was bluffing to get what I wanted from him.

  “So you do know where they are.”

  “Of course I do. You know it perfectly well.” I tilted my head on one side and smiled, like a child begging for a candy. “Please, agent, do it for me. No one will ever know… Help me and I will tell you everything you want. I’ll point out the exact location for you on the map…”

  He stood there silently, as if ascertaining the situation, then sighed and turned away from me, starting yet another circle on the ground, covered with the white blanket of fresh snow. The night creeped up on us and darkened our faces. I couldn’t see what he was thinking and followed him, trying to guess his thoughts.

  “Agent Foster?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me when we were still in London?”

  “I couldn’t… I didn’t know you back then… It’s not too late, if that’s what you’re worried about, they have only one place to go, where they will wait before resettling. I can give you my guarantee… Otto and I secured the place ourselves…”

  “I will not bring you cyanide.”

  “Why not? I’m the war criminal, we both know it, why would you want me to live longer than I deserve?”

  “I’m not the one to decide how long you should live and how soon you should die. And it’s not right taking your own life either.”

  “Don’t you want to know where Bormann and Müller are? That’s why you’ve been coming here all along… You’ll find them and become a hero in your country. My life is not a big price at all to pay for this… Please, agent…”

  “Stop it, Ernst.” He turned around and put both hands on my shoulders, slightly shaking me. “You’re saying absolute nonsense just because you’re scared. Pull yourself together. You have a loving woman and an infant son waiting for you. I would never do it to you, but more than anything, I would never do it to them. I’m not mentioning your other children and wife, since I know that you don’t have the warmest relationship, but for the love of God! Have some decency. You caused enough misery to so many people, don’t cause it to the ones who still care about you.”

  We walked in silence for a couple of minutes, while I was quietly swallowing tears, until I had enough courage to touch his sleeve once again. “Why don’t you want to kill me to learn about Bormann and Müller?”

  “If it was our first meeting, I probably would have agreed,” he muttered. “I like you, Ernst. I don’t know why. I guess for the same reason why she loves you. You are a good man, who turned to a very dark side. I guess we both still see that good man in you, even though you were skillful enough to hide him away from everybody’s eyes.”

  Sheltering me from the guard, who was watching us, he offered me his handkerchief. I thanked God that the darkness made my tears invisible.

  Chapter 7

  Linz, November 1919

  The darkness made us invisible for the passers-by, as we were making our way to yet another not quite legal meeting at one of the beer halls. I was walking shoulder to shoulder with my father, still not used to the fact that we were almost of the same height. Werner begged us to take him too, but my father looked him up and down critically, and concluded, “You’re still too short to pass for an eighteen year old. They won’t let you in, son. Next time when we meet here, you can sit with us if you like.”

  My fourteen year old brother nodded enthusiastically and waved goodbye to us. I never understood his fascination with beer halls and the political meetings; all of it bored me to death, just like now, as I was sitting next to my father with my hand supporting my head, and trying not to be in his way whenever he wanted to talk to someone at our table.

  “Why so sad, sweet cheeks?” I turned around to a woman’s voice behind my back. “You aren’t a communist, who found himself at the wrong rally, are you?”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at her joke, and got up from my chair, since she was standing and I wanted to mind my manners. I very rarely, if ever, saw women at the rallies, but she wasn’t even a woman; more of a young girl of hardly twenty, who seemed very sure of herself amongst the predominantly male audience. She belonged to that new, progressive feministic type, I figured, from her short cut, almost platinum, curled hair, heavily coated black lashes, bright lipstick the color of wild cherry, and a skirt, which ended just below her knee. My mother always looked in horror at those girls and kept shaking her head, saying that the new generation had no shame left whatsoever.

  “I’m sorry.” I apologized, not even sure what I was apologizing for, feeling a little uneasy under her straightforward gaze. “Would you like to sit?”

  “Oh, aren’t you too sweet, precious?” She flashed all her perfect white teeth at me and nodded at the four beer mugs she was holding. “I can’t, I have to bring these to my friends over there. But why don’t you sit with us instead? You’re probably bored to death listening to them.”

  She leaned very close to me and pronounced the last few words, nodding at the table where I was sitting.

  “I’m here with my father.” I motioned my head in the direction where he was sitting, immersed in a heated political polemics with two of his friends.

  “You’ll be back before he notices,” the girl promised with a playful wink, and gestured for me to follow her. In less than a minute, during which she was pushing men out of her way better than any policeman during the riot could, I found myself by a table around which a bunch of rowdy young men sat. They met their female companion with loud cheers, and she, after handing two of the mugs to the waiting hands, handed me one, keeping the fourth for herself.

  “Everybody, meet… What’s your name, precious?” She turned to me.

  “Ernst.” I mirrored her smile.

  “Everybody meet my new friend Ernst,” she announced loudly, and in less than a second I found myself shaking outstretched hands and receiving pats on the back.

  Meanwhile, my new feisty friend was arranging the seats, without a sec
ond thought pointing for one of her friends to squeeze closer to the end of the bench.

  “Karl, move it, we need to make room for our new friend.” She watched me position myself between her and Karl, who didn’t seem to object too much, and held her glass up. “Welcome to our little Party, Ernst.”

  I toasted my mug with her and all her friends.

  “By the way, my name is Melita.”

  “Nice to meet you, Melita.” I nodded and drank some of the beer she generously offered me. “Are you all regulars here?”

  “We’re here every Friday,” the blonde answered and pointed to the podium, where one of the speakers was fiercely gesticulating. “They’re all just a warm up before a real show. Today Beck is speaking, he’s from the Greater German People’s Party, and he’s the one you want to listen to. We all came here for him.”

  I nodded, even though I didn’t have the slightest clue who this Beck was. Meanwhile, one of the young men addressed me from across the table. “Which fraternity do you belong to, Ernst?”

  “Fraternity?” I asked, confused.

  “Yes, fraternity. Which university do you go to?”

  “I don’t go to university yet,” I admitted, hoping deep inside that they wouldn’t start laughing at me and kick me off of their table. “I’m graduating from school next year.”

  “Really? How old are you?”

  “I’m sixteen.”

  “Sixteen? You look like you’re twenty!” He laughed and shook my hand again. “I’m Franz. We’re all from the National Austrian Students’ League.”

  Seeing my confusion, Melita leaned closer and whispered in my ear, “The National Austrian Students’ League is an umbrella term that unifies all the nationalist fraternities in Austria.”

  “What do you do with these fraternities?” I inquired after drinking some more beer.

  “We’re trying to bring our ideas to the masses. We’re national socialists, fighting against the Bolshevik threat. We organize meetings and rallies, and actively participate in them. It’s our duty, as a young and educated generation, to bring our great countries – the Weimar Republic and Austria – back to their glory. And we’re also working towards the cancellation of the restrictions imposed on us by the Versailles Treaty. They say that we aren’t allowed to unite with our German brothers, but it’s against all the international rules for self-identification as a free nation!”

  “It’s all the Bolshevik Jews’ fault!” My neighbor Karl stated angrily. “They’re afraid that if we unite, they won’t be able to keep us in check. But we’ll get to them, mark my words, we’ll get to all of them.”

  “Hey, Ernst,” Franz called me again. “How do you feel about joining our group for now, before you get into the university? You can still go to the meetings with us and help us with different things. What do you say?”

  “Thank you, that would be great,” I agreed, without giving it too much thought. For now, whatever distracted me from suffering over Dalia and constantly questioning myself if I did the right thing walking out on her and hurling all those accusations, was a good thing.

  My consent was met with more cheers, back pats and mugs toasting, when Melita suddenly shushed all of us, pointing to the podium.

  “Shhhh, Beck’s here!”

  “Beck!”

  “Beck’s here, quiet everybody!”

  I craned my neck to see the man, who made the buzzing beer hall go quiet just by stepping in front of the audience. I had never seen him before, as I would certainly remember his imposing, unnaturally straight posture and stern look, revealing a former military man, and not that of small rank either. And when he started speaking, his loud and commanding voice immediately silenced the last of the whispers.

  I don’t know why I started thinking of Father Wilhelm and the contrast the two of them made as speakers. Father Wilhelm also kept everyone’s attention from the first time he would raise his warm eyes from the Bible in front of him and smile at his parish, greeting everybody with a slight nod, as if thanking them for sharing the mass with him. Every time I listened to his words, I felt loved, yes, ridiculous as it may sound, but it was love, emanating from every speech he was giving, no matter the topic.

  Beck did not want his audience to feel love, it became obvious to me right away. He nourished people’s hatred, and planted its seed in everybody’s mind by asking the firstly: did we really lose the Great War? He then went on to cultivate those doubts, throwing more arguments in to support the ideas, which were disturbing people ever since the recent signing of the humiliating Treaty of Versailles. It was the last drop, he said. Now they have crossed the line. Now, if we don’t fight back, we’ll cease to exist.

  He had all the numbers in front of him too, the wild percentage on the loan that we were supposed to pay back to the Americans, our current economical state, our agricultural production, the rate of rapidly growing inflation… No, he clearly rejected the whole love thy neighbor idea; his call was loud and clear, kill thy neighbor and take all of his land and possessions because he kills you.

  “Is it real? I mean… the Bolshevik threat?” I asked Melita outside the beer hall, while I was waiting for my father to come out. Melita had decided to say goodbye to her friends and keep me company instead.

  She eyed me for a moment, took a cigarette case out of her pocket and offered me one. I took it, not sure why.

  “What do you think yourself?” she asked, lighting up her cigarette and motioning for me to share a match with her.

  I took the first drag I had ever had in my life, and immediately went into a coughing fit, burning my throat with the disgusting tobacco smoke. Melita laughed and sympathetically hit my back with her closed fist, helping me catch my breath.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Fine,” I answered in a raspy voice, also laughing.

  “You’ve never done it before, have you?”

  “No,” I admitted, looking at the cigarette.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you everything,” she promised confidently and brushed my bangs off my forehead. “Next time you take a drag, do it slow, and inhale with your lungs, not with your nose, this way you won’t burn your throat. Try it.”

  I did as she told me, and it went much smoother than the first time.

  “Hold it in, don’t blow it out yet.” Melita stepped even closer and covered my mouth with her hand, smiling mischievously. “Good. Now, exhale.”

  She didn’t move back when I blew out a cloud of grey smoke away from her face, only took a drag of her cigarette, still looking me in the eyes. “Are you feeling lightheaded yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then take another one.”

  I did start to feel a little lightheaded after that second drag and even liked the feeling. Everything seemed so right and in its place: the slight fog around us, mixing with the grey smoke, her smoky eyes fixed on mine, and the feeling that I was doing something very wrong, in a very wrong place, with a very wrong person, which suddenly felt very right.

  I barely knew her and she barely knew me, and there was something very dangerous and evil around these people, I could feel it in my gut, and yet I was mesmerized by their determination, their fearlessness, and their secret societies, in which they fought for what seemed like noble goals. They accepted me as one of them, and that feeling of superiority above the others, who as I was told by Melita, couldn’t come close to the fraternity no matter how much they tried, was soothing and extremely satisfying, especially after the recent rejection of the only one who I never expected to betray me.

  To hell with Dalia then. I made a fateful decision that night and kissed Melita, out of some childish protest.

  She sparkled her white teeth at me again and shook her head. “If you want to kiss me, kiss me like a man, not like my brother would kiss me.”

  I threw away the unfinished cigarette and took her face in my hands. She readily opened her mouth to me and pressed herself against my body, running her fingers through my hair,
and slipping her other hand on my back under my unbuttoned coat. I was kissing her so shamelessly right in the street because I refused to care that I lost my best friend and my first love. I refused to admit that I missed my old innocent life before the war, before poverty, before all this mess. Luckily, now I had found new friends, who cared about me and accepted me in their circle. I had a new girl, who wanted me to kiss her without any pretense and shaming afterwards, and who laughed at any religion to begin with. Who needs some Jewish girl anyway, I thought angrily, and held Melita even tighter and kissed her again. She gave me an amused look, wiping her lipstick off my mouth with her thumb.

  “Now that you have most definitely done before.” She giggled. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you next Friday, right?”

  I nodded and asked her if she wanted me to walk her home; to that she only laughed and produced a gun from her pocket. “I think I can take care of myself, precious. But thank you for the offer.”

  “Where did you get that? Carrying arms is prohibited by the new Treaty.”

  “Screw the Treaty!”

  With those words Melita winked at me, grinned and walked away, her confident steps slowly getting quieter in the distance. I was still looking in the direction in which she disappeared, until my father slapped me on my back and messed my hair in a very unusual, affectionate way for him.

  “What a night, huh, son?”

  _______________

  Nuremberg prison, January 1946

  What a night it was, I was thinking to myself, slowly chewing on a piece of tasteless bread and blankly staring through Arthur Seyss-Inquart, my former Austrian superior, who was sitting in the prison canteen across the table from me. The court had just adjourned for a recess, but my thoughts couldn’t be further from the proceedings. I guess he called out my name several times, before touching my hand in the hope of getting my attention. I finally focused my gaze on him and noticed once again how much he had aged in just over six months. Who was I kidding? I probably didn’t look any better than him, especially now that I was sick again.