A Murder in Auschwitz

by J. C. Stephenson

  Deschler hid a smile behind his hand. He was impressed with Meyer. He had managed to do what he had asked him to. Amsel’s war record would prejudice the jury against him and Meyer had introduced it in such a way as to make it look like an error on his behalf.

  Amsel visibly swallowed. “No, I was in the navy.”

  “Ah yes, Herr Amsel, I remember my notes now. You are from Alsace-Lorraine and, because of the French influence there, the Kaiser sent Alsatians either to the eastern front or to the navy. You must have been involved in the Battle of Jutland when we gave the Royal Navy a bloody nose?”

  Once more, Amsel shook his head slowly. “No, I...” he trailed off before quickly stating, “Times were different then, the war was already lost and the Kaiser...”

  Meyer interrupted. “You mean the mutiny, Herr Amsel? My apologies again, I was not aware that you were involved.” Then, before Amsel could say anything further, Meyer continued with another question.

  “Herr Amsel, once the train had come to a stop and you realised that the platform was blocked can you tell me, as the most senior member of staff aboard that train, what your actions were?”

  Amsel felt relief that the questions had shifted back to the issue at hand. This young lawyer had made a mistake and had done everything he could to reverse it and stop any further embarrassment for him. He did indeed see a fellow professional sitting in front of him. Amsel sat up straighter in his seat and started his explanation of the various steps he had taken to keep his passengers safe and ensure that the train’s next departure happened on time.

  “First of all, I inspected the works on the platform, which were cordoned off all the way up to the doors of the train. This, of course, was unacceptable, and I fetched the station master. Together, we moved the cordon so that a reasonable amount of space was available for the passengers to safely disembark from the train.”

  “Can you tell me how long this took?”

  “It was twenty-two minutes before we could allow the doors to be opened,” replied Amsel.

  “That is very precise, Herr Amsel. Did you keep a check on the time with your now-missing watch?” asked Meyer, carefully making sure he did not use the word stolen.

  “Yes, that is correct.”

  “Once the doors were opened and the passengers left the train, how would you describe their behaviour?”

  “Most left the train and made their way along the platform in an orderly manner. However, there were some who were pushing through. Typical, of course. There are always some who think that they are more important than others and everyone should get out of the way for them.”

  “And can you tell the court where you positioned yourself to oversee the disembarkation of the passengers?” asked Meyer, allowing Amsel to champion his standing in his capacity as inspector.

  “Yes, I stood at the far end of the train on the footplate of the end carriage. From there I could see the passengers as they left the train. Safety, in my mind, is paramount, and I wanted to be able to spot any difficulties as soon as they occurred.”

  “That is very commendable, Herr Amsel. And was the train due to leave again for a further destination?”

  “Yes, the train continues on from Berlin to Hamburg, although the back three carriages are attached to the Dresden train and head south,” replied Amsel, confidently.

  “You had already spent over twenty minutes clearing the platform for the passengers, and it must have taken longer than usual for them to leave the train. Was the train running short of time? Was it going to be late in leaving?”

  “I was confident that the train would leave on time. Trains under my authority never run late.”

  “But the train was late in leaving that day, Herr Amsel.”

  “Ah, but that was because of the watch...” Amsel was interrupted by Meyer, carefully trying to keep the word ‘crime’ or ‘theft’ from being spoken.

  “You kept an eye on your watch of course, to attempt to keep the train’s departure on time?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “And you were on the footplate of the carriage the whole time?”

  “No. I stepped off when I could see the last of the passengers leaving the carriages.”

  Meyer nodded and flicked through his papers. “You must have been in the direct path of those passengers still walking along the platform.”

  “Well, yes. But I kept my hand against the train to keep me steady.”

  “You were facing up the train?” Amsel nodded. “So that would have been your right hand?”

  “Yes, I suppose it was.”

  “Are you left-handed, Herr Amsel?”

  “No, I am right-handed.”

  “So you keep your pocket watch in your right-hand waistcoat pocket?”

  “Yes, that is correct.”

  Meyer paused. He wanted the jury to take this information all in. It was going to be the crux of his case.

  “So, Herr Amsel, you wear your pocket watch in the right-hand pocket of your waistcoat, which is connected by its chain through a buttonhole, and the fob sits in your left-hand pocket?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “And this is under your blue uniform jacket?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I am sorry Herr Amsel, I am trying to understand how, if you are right-handed but you were steadying yourself against the carriage with that hand, how you managed to use your watch?”

  “Well, I can quite easily reach my right-hand pocket with my left hand,” replied Amsel, smiling.

  “Yes, I do understand that, but you would need to keep your jacket unbuttoned and tucked around your side so you could retrieve your watch, is this not the case?”

  “Yes, that is exactly how I did it.”

  “And you were steadying yourself against the train because...?”

  “As the passengers were passing me I was being buffeted to a certain extent.”

  “You were being inadvertently pushed by passengers as they passed you, so you had to steady yourself against the train with your right hand, only leaving your left hand free to use your watch, but you had to keep your uniform jacket open to access your watch?”

  “That is correct.”

  “Did you have your watch in your hand the whole time?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “So you would check your watch and then return it to your pocket?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you remember seeing Herr Vogel in the crowd that was passing?”

  “No, but...”

  Again, Meyer cut him off.

  “That is okay, Herr Amsel, we have had an excellent witness statement which places Herr Vogel right next to you on the platform.”

  Amsel smiled. He had been beginning to wonder if this lawyer had forgotten that they shared a professionalism. Now, even though at the time he had not noticed the thief, this lawyer had put him right next to him.

  “That witness has also confirmed the police report on what Herr Vogel was wearing that day. It had been cold that morning and Herr Vogel had chosen to wear his service greatcoat,” explained Meyer. Then he turned to the jury, while keeping his eyes on Amsel. “This greatcoat is of a double-breasted style and sports large brass buttons in a twin line down the front. Frau Engel explained that Herr Vogel had to push past Herr Amsel, who was standing next to the train carriage with his jacket open, revealing his waistcoat and leaving his watch chain clearly on display.”

  Meyer then asked the judge if he may approach the bench.

  “I would like to demonstrate something to the court, which will require the aid of my assistant, Herr Deschler.”

  The judge took a moment and then agreed, warning Meyer that any prolonged theatrics would be frowned upon. Meyer assured him that it would only take a moment but would demonstrate to the court what he believed had taken place that day.

  Meyer hurriedly pulled on an old German Imperial Army greatcoat, while Deschler pushed himself up on his stick, limped over, and stood in
front of the jury bench. He pulled his jacket to one side, revealing the chain of a pocket watch strung through his waistcoat buttonhole.

  “If it would please the court, I would like to demonstrate what happened at the moment Herr Vogel passed Herr Amsel,” announced Meyer. Meyer slowly walked towards Deschler, who had removed his watch from his right-hand pocket with his left hand.

  “Herr Vogel was pushed along with the crowd towards Herr Amsel. Directly behind Herr Vogel was Frau Engel. She states that the closer the crowd got to the end of the platform, the closer the crush became.”

  Meyer stood directly in front of Deschler, who had replaced the watch in his pocket. He gave the jury a second to take in and understand what he had shown them so far before explaining further.

  “Herr Vogel was pushed up against Herr Amsel, and to get past him, he turned.”

  Meyer stepped right up to Deschler, so that his greatcoat and the waistcoat met, and then turned on his axis. He looked down between the two items of clothing.

  “As you can see, the buttons on my greatcoat have now caught the watch chain.”

  The members of the jury peered between the two lawyers, and once the majority of them had nodded and sat down again, Meyer continued the demonstration.

  “When Herr Vogel turned, if you would care to observe, the watch chain was pulled by the coat button, which in turn pulled the watch from the pocket.”

  Meyer turned round further. The men on the jury peered carefully at the watch chain as it was pulled by the coat button and, as Meyer had stated, pulled the watch from the pocket.

  “Now, I would like the members of the jury to be extra vigilant while I recreate the final move which Herr Vogel was forced to take with the sheer weight of the crowd behind him.” The jury visibly sat forward, and some stood up to follow Meyer’s instruction.

  “Herr Vogel, with Frau Engel behind him, was forced past Herr Amsel. This broke the watch chain and, if you witness what happens when the watch chain pulls the watch up to the buttonhole...” Meyer left the sentence unfinished. He pushed all the way past Deschler, the chain pulling the watch against the buttonhole until the chain snapped and the watch fell to the floor.

  “I suspect that Herr Amsel’s watch fell onto the platform and then may have rolled onto the track, or was perhaps picked up by someone else, not stolen by Herr Vogel,” explained Meyer.

  “But the chain, it was found in his pocket!” declared Amsel from the witness stand.

  “Herr Amsel, please, I will not tolerate any outbursts in this court,” reprimanded the judge.

  Meyer had not finished. He still had the final explanation of how the chain arrived in Vogel’s pocket. Either it would work or it would fail. Either the jury would believe it, or it would seem too unbelievable. It was a chance that he and Deschler had discussed, and it was a chance that they had decided they would have to take. After all, the only other explanation was that Vogel had stolen or attempted to steal Amsel’s watch.

  Meyer and Deschler had not moved since the demonstration of how the watch was pulled from Amsel’s waistcoat. Now, Meyer slowly walked away from Deschler, causing the chain and the fob to be pulled from the pocket to hang on the button.

  “Herr Amsel is correct. How did the watch chain end up in Herr Vogel’s pocket? As Herr Vogel pushed past Herr Amsel and the watch chain was broken, the majority of the chain was hooked around the button on the coat. As he walked away, the full chain, including the fob, went with Herr Vogel. Now, on these army greatcoats you can see that there is a deep seam around the cuff, to give it a turned over appearance. Herr Vogel had his arm held at chest height above this button to buffer himself against the man in front, and when he passed Herr Amsel and was out into a relatively open space he brought this arm down and...” Once again, Meyer stopped the explanation and focussed the jury on the demonstration. Meyer moved his arm down, catching the fob on the cuff seam and placed his hand in his pocket.

  The chain slipped into his pocket like quicksilver.

  It took the jury less than thirty minutes to return their verdict; not guilty.

  Auschwitz, 29th October 1943

  THERE were new arrivals at the camp almost every day. Sometimes there would be a number of them allocated to Hut 72. They would be sitting against the wall of the hut, or on the wooden bunks as Meyer and the others arrived back from eating their thin soup and black bread after their day in the work group.

  Occasionally, scuffles would break out between those who had just arrived and had claimed someone’s bunk and the original occupant, but more often than not the new arrivals were so shocked by their experience that they sat dumbly on the floor.

  Meyer wanted to help them, warn them about what this place was. But he knew it would not be long before they knew the truth, if they did not know already. He wanted to tell them not to worry about not having a bunk, there would be some free by tomorrow morning. He wanted to tell them about the hunger that they would feel and how it would subside. He wanted to tell them about the tiredness and the fear and how these were the enemies here, not the men wearing the death’s-head insignia. But he did not tell them any of these things. He did not want to share what humanity and feelings and love he had any further than they were already stretched, as if by giving his care and attention to them as they sat there bewildered these things would be stretched to breaking point, until the inevitable happened and they died, and his love would snap like an elastic band.

  Meyer walked past the newcomers and sat on his bunk. He had a middle bunk in a stack of three. The cracked wood of the bed acted like a spring, and Meyer kept that extra comfort of his bed secret, even from Geller.

  He removed his clogs and rubbed his feet. This was a ritual which many of those in work groups who had to march long distances each day performed. He had noticed it in others on his very first evening in the camp, and by the next day he was doing exactly the same.

  The man who slept on the opposite side of Meyer from Geller was a German Jew from Hamburg, Jan Sollner, a piano teacher by trade; his long, thin fingers struggled with the long hard work in the forest. His musician’s body struggled to cope with the daily toil they all faced. When Meyer had first arrived, he had noticed Sollner had a cough which bothered him. Now though, it barely stopped. Sollner was often bent double, coughing up phlegm, and yesterday he had started to cough up blood.

  Sollner lay on his side, facing Meyer. His lips were blue and his eyes were closed tight as another wave of coughing engulfed him. Once it had passed, he opened his eyes again.

  “I am sorry, Manfred. I must keep you awake at night,” he croaked.

  Meyer smiled kindly at him. “You are joking with me, Jan,” he said. “Your coughing is nothing to the screaming and shouting that goes on through the night in here. Anyway, you know me, as soon as I close my eyes, I am out for the count.”

  Sollner started to laugh, but this was commandeered by a coughing fit. He turned away from Meyer to save him from yet another bout of barked coughs. As he turned, Meyer noticed a thin line of blood running from Sollner’s mouth.

  “It’s the stomach that hurts the most, Manfred,” said Sollner when it had subsided. “The stomach muscles hurt so much from all of the coughing. I am sorry.”

  “Hey Jan, I told you. Don’t be silly. You have nothing to be sorry about,” replied Meyer.

  “I have tried everything, you know. To try and stop it. I have tried coughing in musical time. I thought if I could master the timing of the coughs, I could control them and get them to stop.”

  Meyer laid a hand on Sollner’s back as he began another fit of wheezing coughs. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, but Sollner shook his head through the coughing.

  Meyer lay back on his bunk, beaten from the day’s work. He turned to see Geller watching Sollner. His face betrayed his concern for the piano teacher. Meyer bid Geller and Sollner good night and felt his eyelids drooping, heavy with the day’s drudgery.

  Unusually, Meyer woke in the m
iddle of the night. The air was full of snoring, but the insidious silence which haunted the camp during the day and filled every waking moment when orders were not being barked at you had gone. A kinder, warmer silence now filled the spaces between the snores and mumbled dreams of the exhausted. He looked at where he thought the back of Sollner’s head would be. His cough had stopped, and an easy peace engulfed him for the first time in the short while that Meyer had known him. Meyer felt a fatherly smile cross his face and closed his eyes, allowing sleep to swim over him once more.

  “Get up! Get up!” Langer limped around the hut, shouting at the inmates. “What are you doing? Get up and out! Come on, hey you! Yes, you! Leave him and get outside!”

  Meyer and Geller looked at each other. They both made it their first task for the day to be outside before Langer had made it to their part of the hut. Meyer reached out his hand and shook Sollner to wake him.

  “You won’t be able to wake him this morning.” It was Ziegler; the Pole from Sollner’s other side. “He won’t be coughing any more I am afraid. He’s gone.”

  Meyer felt a dreadful sadness overcome him. He had not known Sollner very well. He had not even been in the same working party, although Sollner had also worked in the forest. But after weeks of him being tortured as his lungs slowly gave up, he had been given a last night of peace from the torment. For some reason, it had reminded Meyer of watching his children sleep at night, that unqualified sleep of the innocent.

  “Come on Manfred,” came Geller's voice. “Let’s go. He is in a better place now.”

  Meyer’s hand lingered on Sollner’s still-warm shoulder, and then he followed Geller out into the cold of the early morning.

  After a day in the forest, Meyer and Geller returned to the hut with the rest of their work party to find that Sollner’s bunk had been claimed, not by one of the newcomers as Meyer had expected, but by one of the inmates from the other side of the hut. His faded prison uniform looked even greyer than Meyer’s own, and he wore the Star of David badge and a patch showing him to be a Sonderkommando, one of those who worked at the gas chambers and the crematoria. The smell of death sat on him like a mantle of demise.