The Austrian: A War Criminal's Story

by Ellie Midwood

  With those thoughts I inspected the gun in my hand, took the safety off and pressed it to my temple. I don’t remember how long I was sitting like that, with my eyes closed, recalling every single detail of my miserable life and crying from bitter disappointment, pity for myself and relief that it was all going to end soon. I took a deep breath and started pressing the trigger slowly.

  “Herr Gruppenführer?”

  Startled by the voice behind the closed door, which I hadn’t expected to hear by all means, I quickly hid the gun in my lap and wiped my face with the sleeve of my shirt, just in time before she opened the door.

  “Haven’t they taught you to knock?!” I avoided meeting her eyes as I started quickly shuffling through the meaningless papers on my table.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you were still working.”

  With the corner of my eye I saw her, Annalise Friedmann, standing in the doors and watching me with the eyes of an adult who had just caught a child doing something shameful, and not knowing whether to punish the child or feel sorry for him.

  “What are you still doing here? Why aren’t you at home? I dismissed everyone at five,” I said, partly to fill the pause and partly because I was curious indeed about why she was still at work. She didn’t stay because of me, did she?

  “I was in the radio room, waiting for that telegram concerning the Warsaw ghetto,” she replied.

  I finally gave up my attempts to pretend to be working, and lifted my eyes to her.

  “I told you that it could wait till tomorrow, before I dismissed you,” I said.

  “I forgot,” she lied, looking me straight in the eye, and a shade of a contained, barely recognizable smile touched the corner of her mouth.

  “Well, did you receive it now?” I asked, in the hope of receiving a positive answer and that she would finally leave me alone and go home to her perfect husband.

  “No.”

  “Are you going to stay here all night then, waiting for it?” I arched my brow, trying to sound as sarcastic as I could.

  “Are you?”

  I almost burst out laughing at her boldness. No other subordinate, no male subordinate, not even certain superiors allowed themselves to act with such natural confidence, confidence that this woman possessed. She looked so official in her dark uniform, buttoned to the very neck, with her blond hair pulled back and tied in a thick bun, with her intelligent eyes looking so intently at me that I had to look away, afraid that she might read my mind, look into my very soul and see what I was trying to hide from everyone, and even from myself. I carefully opened the middle drawer and, away from her eyes, slowly replaced the gun from my lap into it. The last thing I needed was for her to see it and start asking questions, and I know she would, like it was her business. Why did she care anyway?

  “Go home, Frau Friedmann, I don’t need you anymore tonight.”

  She didn’t move. I looked at her sternly once again, hoping that the look would produce more impression on her, like it always did on others.

  “Even though I admit that I find your exceptional talent to drive people away from yourself absolutely fascinating, Herr Gruppenführer, you won’t get rid of me so easily.” With those words she walked towards my table with her graceful, yet resolute step and without further ceremony picked up my military jacket from the back of my chair and held it up for me. “Get dressed, I’ll drive you home.”

  “I’m not going home, I have work to do.” I protested to the cheeky girl, but she would have none of it.

  “You’re not in any condition to do any work, Herr Gruppenführer, that’s number one. Number two, you have to make a report to Reichsführer tomorrow at nine, and there’s not a chance I will let you go like this. It’s embarrassing for you,” she said, taking my hand and putting it into the sleeve after I made no attempt to put the jacket on myself, “and for me as your secretary. And I don’t need Reichsführer telling me off again for your appearance.”

  “You’re not responsible for my appearance,” I grumbled stubbornly, yanking the jacket out of her hands and putting it on. Taking the gun out of the drawer was out of the question now, with her standing right next to me, and even though I had another one at home, she had already ruined my suicidal mood. “Why do you always have to…”

  Put your nose in my business, I wanted to say and couldn’t, because it would sound too rude even for me. But she still understood and smiled at me, without reproach.

  “Because I care, how about that for a reason?”

  “Your husband is waiting for you at home,” I reminded her, trying my last argument.

  Annalise only motioned her head toward the door.

  “He doesn’t need me as much as you do. Let’s go.”

  I followed her slim figure, looking even more defined and slender under the straight lines of the black uniform, to the garage, where she found my car in the usual spot, and held the passenger door for me. I was too drunk and too tired to insist on driving myself, so I climbed inside and turned my face towards the window.

  Annalise started the car and, after driving in silence for some time, inquired quietly, “Is everything alright with you, Herr Gruppenführer?”

  I almost choked with tears at the genuine concern in her voice. I turned away even further from her and quickly squeezed my eyes with one hand.

  “Fine. Just drunk and tired.”

  I could feel her searching eyes on me as soon as she stopped at the red light.

  “Do you want to talk to me, Herr Gruppenführer?”

  “No!” I barked at her, hoping that the open rudeness would make her leave me in peace at last, alone with my suffering, which I wanted to endure all by myself, because I didn’t need anybody’s pity and didn’t deserve anybody’s love.

  She was quiet for a couple of minutes, then said, sounding a little offended, “Do you know what hurts me the most, Herr Gruppenführer? The fact that it’s not you, it’s not like you, and of all people I am the only one who sees it and tries to help you out, and you refuse my help. Why are you trying so desperately to seem so much worse than you really are? Why do you want everybody to hate you? Why do you want me to hate you?”

  Because I am so terribly afraid that you will push me away, I almost whispered back to her, but only pressed my jaw together so that the feared words would not escape my mouth in a moment of weakness.

  “I came to you at the worst possible moment of my life, after I had just buried my brother and baby,” she said softly. “I trusted you of all people. I put my very life at your mercy, when I asked you to help me with Heydrich. I wasn’t afraid to tell you everything. Why are you so afraid to trust me?”

  “I’m sorry.” That was all I managed to say to her without openly bursting into tears. “Please, let’s not talk anymore.”

  Annalise just nodded, as if sensing my extremely vulnerable state, and then put her warm little hand on top of mine and squeezed it tightly. I buried my head between the window and my shoulder, and covered it with my other hand, hiding my wet face from her. She had so much tact that she pretended not to see it and kept looking straight ahead, keeping my hand in hers all the way to my house, only taking it away to shift gears at the lights.

  It took me all my strength to regain my composure, while she was opening the heavy iron gates to the driveway, and to look somewhat decent when she opened the front door with my keys and turned the dim light on in the hallway. I was hoping that she would go away at least then, but Annalise followed me to my bedroom without saying a word, took my uniform jacket from me, sat me on the bed and even helped me take my boots off, despite all my protests.

  “I’m setting your alarm clock to seven, so you’ll have time to shower, eat and look through your report for Reichsführer,” she said, winding up the alarm clock with familiar resolution, and putting it on the nightstand next to my bed. “Lay down and rest, Herr Gruppenführer. I’ll write a note to your housekeeper so she will wake you up if you oversleep. I’m leaving a glass of water for you i
f you get thirsty at night. I will lock your house with your keys, and will give them back to you in the morning. Your housekeeper will unlock the door with hers. I’ll have to take your car to get home, but I’ll make sure to send it back with Heinrich’s driver by eight tomorrow. Try to sleep, will you? And don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything, no matter what time.”

  She smiled softly at me, reached out and brushed the hair off my forehead. I caught her hand and kissed it, with all the love and gratitude I felt for her at that moment.

  “Why are you being so kind to me, Frau Friedmann?”

  “Because you were kind to me when I came asking for your help. And because I know that under all those layers of sarcasm and coldness you have the most gentle, loving heart. Only, you refuse to admit it even to yourself.”

  “I don’t have a heart, Frau Friedmann.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “No.” I shook my head and smiled, going back to my familiar jesting self, hiding the last traces of the weakness she happened to witness. “And if you tell somebody that I do, I will deny everything.”

  Chapter 12

  Munich, October 1933

  “I will deny everything, Reichsführer, if I get caught.”

  Himmler took off his famous round glasses, which were the reason behind his nickname – the Owl – and started unhurriedly cleaning them with his handkerchief. I noticed that his initials and the symbol of the SS were embroidered in the corner of it. It was the second time he had summoned me to his headquarters, entrusting me with a very serious task that I had no idea how to complete. ‘It’s enough speaking of the Anschluss of Austria, he said to me, it’s time we finally start working towards it. And you, Sturmhauptführer Kaltenbrunner, will have to make it possible. Your comrades, I, and even the Führer himself are counting on you.’ I could hardly restrain myself from swallowing hard at those words and the piercing gaze of Himmler’s eyes. He might as well have asked me to bring him the Moon on a silver plate by next Sunday, and I wouldn’t have been half as puzzled about how to do it as I was now.

  The Führer is counting on me, that’s even better, I was thinking feverishly. How much better it was when no one had even heard my name in Berlin. How much better everything was when I was a simple lawyer’s apprentice in Linz, with a regular job, a new car, a cozy apartment and a couple of girlfriends to keep me company. Why did Dietrich have to notice me that evening at the rally? Why did I have to be so good in completing all his orders, so that even Himmler took notice of it and delegated me this now? Why did he have to mention my name to the Führer himself? And what if I fail? Then what?

  Himmler finally finished tormenting me with the heavy silence, interrupted only by the barely audible sound of his handkerchief on his glasses. He put them back on his nose and suddenly smiled brightly from under his small dark moustache.

  “No need to look so startled, Sturmhauptführer. You’ll do just fine. I wouldn’t have delegated this task to you if I wasn’t sure of your success.”

  “Thank you, Reichsführer.”

  He was already going to dismiss me, when suddenly, as if remembering something, he motioned me to sit back into the chair across from him.

  “One more thing before you go, Sturmhauptführer. How old are you now?”

  I frowned involuntarily, trying to guess why he asked me that.

  “Thirty, Reichsführer.”

  Himmler smiled wider.

  “You do know about the unofficial rule concerning the SS officer staff, don’t you, Sturmhauptführer Kaltenbrunner?”

  I frowned more, quickly going through numerous rules and prescriptions, both official and unofficial, and came up with nothing that could possibly concern my age.

  “An annual medical examination?” I finally voiced the only suitable thing that came to my mind.

  Himmler burst into a hearty, belly shaking laughter.

  “Nice try, Sturmhauptführer, nice try! I’m talking about your marital status. All officer staff of the SS are strongly recommended to get married by thirty, if you remember, which means that you are already late. When am I going to see your application?” He finished with a serious expression again, making me understand that it wasn’t a joke.

  “What if I don’t have a suitable candidate to become my wife yet, Reichsführer?” I asked gingerly, hoping that he would drop the subject.

  “Nonsense! I know several possible, and very suitable candidates for that position, as you call it, Sturmhauptführer. Just pick the most suitable one, and send me her documents.”

  I shifted in my chair, thinking that the situation was getting out of hand far quicker than I’d ever imagined even in my worst nightmare. I almost wished he would go back to talking about the Anschluss and the Führer.

  “I meant to say that… what if I haven’t found that special one, who I’d want to spend the rest of my life with,” I explained with a pleading smile. He could control my military career, but he couldn’t really control this aspect of my very private life, could he?

  “And what if you never do?” Himmler smiled back at me, even though his eyes remained as serious as they had been before. “Then what am I to do? I’m responsible before the Fatherland and the Führer for the future generation of the German Volk, and how am I to get that Volk, if my officers refuse to marry and have children? You, the commanding staff of the SS, are the ones who can provide the Reich with the purest Aryan offspring, together with an approved mother that is, of course, who will be born as the future leaders of that Reich, and who will lead the people after we pass. Do you understand that it’s not about your wish, but about the responsibility for your Fatherland, Ernst?”

  I looked away at the familiarity, which I knew by now he used every time he wanted to emphasize his influence on any particular subordinate. It was his former habit from school, when he used to be a teacher, to talk some sense into a misbehaving student by creating the illusion of equality with someone who would never be equal, and in this twisted way making a refusal impossible.

  “So you want me to marry someone I don’t have any strong attachment to just to… breed children?” I bit my tongue right away, just now hearing how rude and disgusting it sounded, from the side of my eye searching Himmler’s face for the signs of an approaching storm. He remained absolutely unfazed, to my big surprise.

  “No offence, Ernst, but you sound like a heroine in women’s romance books, who twist their hands begging their parents not to marry her against her will. Not that I read any, but my wife keeps buzzing my ears about them all the time during dinner.” Himmler chuckled, and continued on a serious note, “I’m only asking you to find a suitable woman to marry, that’s all. After you do that, have all the mistresses you want to spend the rest of your life with, on the side; the Reich doesn’t prohibit that. On the contrary, the more children you have with any suitable biological mother, wife or no wife, as long as she’s Aryan and healthy, the better for us. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

  “Jawohl, Reichsführer.” I nodded, sighing.

  “Wonderful. So, which one of your lady friends will I find the most suitable?”

  I understood that any protesting would have no effect, and obediently lowered my head, putting up with Reichsführer’s demands.

  “Lisl, I guess. Elisabeth. She’s a devout member of the Party. Aryan, of course. She’s blond and has blue eyes. Twenty-five years old. No hereditary diseases in the family, as far as I know. She used to be a member of the German Girls’ League, also. Her superiors can give her their recommendations.”

  I lifted my eyes at the smiling Himmler.

  “See? And you were just saying, no suitable candidate,” he reproached me jokingly. I hardly restrained myself from sighing heavily again. “Send me all her papers, her birth certificate, her parents’ birth certificates, her Aryan certificate, well, you know the list. I want you to get married as early as the beginning of the next year. You can go now. You have my Reich orders to delegate to your subordi
nates in Austria. Good luck, Ernst!”

  “Jawohl, Reichsführer.”

  I got up, saluted him, and left Himmler’s headquarters still trying to understand how the hell I got involved with all those people, who seemed to control my every breath now.

  I called Lisl as soon as I got back to Linz and asked her to meet me in the café, where we used to share lunch sometimes. Waiting for her I was twisting a little box in my pocket, staring without blinking at the bitter coffee, which was getting cold. I motioned the waitress to bring me a shot of cognac, and reached for my cigarette case. My heart would jump every time the door opened to let another patron in, and I chastised myself for letting out a sigh of relief every time it wasn’t her. Lisl was fifteen minutes late, and knowing her punctuality I started nursing the hope that she might not come at all, probably thinking that I wanted to break it off with her.

  I had just poured the shot of amber liquor down my throat when she ran in, shaking the water drops from her curled hair. It has started raining outside, I thought, almost burning my lips with the remains of my cigarette as I smiled weakly at the girl. She saw me, waved, quickly crossed the room and took the chair across from me.

  “I’m sorry I’m late.” Lisl began by apologizing, working her way out of her wet coat and dropping it casually on the back of her chair. I should have taken it from her, but all of a sudden I couldn’t make myself move or even speak. “My boss held me in the office until I finished typing his notes.”

  She looked at me expectantly, not sure whether to smile or to prepare herself for a break-up.

  “Do you want coffee or something?” I asked her, trying to win some time. For what, though? My fingers brushed the box inside my pocket again, a remainder of the inevitable order from Reichsführer Himmler, which was going to seal my fate forever as soon as I took it out. I quickly took my hand out of the pocket to light another cigarette.

  “Coffee would be nice,” Lisl answered timidly, and smiled to the waitress instead of me. She was avoiding looking me in the eyes. Yes, she was clearly thinking that it was the end of us being together, if it could be called so in the first place.