by Nigel Jones
Hofmann and Schwartz were both surly, unpleasant fellows; the latter soon left me, but Hofmann was on duty, either with Stevens or myself, for the whole of the first and longest year. He was a Bavarian smallholder and had been a cavalryman in the First World War; he was not really a bad fellow and certainly never gave me away. He was just unsociable and suffered from a sense of grievance that he had been drafted for duty at the camp at all; at his age, fifty, and as a farm worker he should have been exempt from military service. We got on without friction except when I wanted a light for a cigarette. At first I was not allowed to have matches and my guards had been told to give me a light when I required one. Hofmann argued that no one had the right to order him to waste his own matches and that, if I had none of my own, the guards should be provided with them by the camp authorities. Every time I asked him for a light he would sulk for the next day or two. Always when he saw that I had nearly finished a meal, after which I should certainly want a cigarette, he would quickly light one of his own and blow out the match before I had a chance to light one. Yet, if he saw that I was out of smokes, he would always give me a cigarette just before he left the cell; matches though were tied to a matter of principle.
Tearing mouthfuls from hard German bread and leathery rolls had a disastrous effect on my teeth which, truth to tell, although still attached to me by roots were more the products of art than of nature; gold inlays and crowns left their anchorage and fillings crumbled to nothing. Already at Berlin I had suffered the premonitory twinges of toothache so that it was with some satisfaction that I heard a few days after reaching Sachsenhausen that I was to be taken to the dentist. This was quite a performance. First I was taken up the passage until I was close to the entrance door; there I had to stand for some five minutes with my face to the wall. Then I was handcuffed and told to get into an ambulance which was standing before the door. All the blinds were down so that I could not see where I was going. When we stopped we were still in the camp and near a long, low timber building. I was taken in here and had to walk along a passage for almost its whole length. On my way I passed a number of rooms, some obviously hospital wards, others marked operation theatre, X-rays, oculist, etc., then dental department and I went into one of the best equipped dental surgeries which I have ever seen.
The dentist, Sturmbahnführer Gussow, was in SS uniform, but his attitude to me was that of doctor to patient. He made a most careful examination of my teeth, taking several X-ray photos. Then he stuck in some gold inlays which I had saved when they fell out and made one or two temporary fillings. I was given an appointment for the following week and then getting into my carriage was driven home. Before I entered the dentist’s room my handcuffs were taken off and it was forgotten to put them on again on the way back.
Dental treatment became my hobby during the rest of my imprisonment as only in this way was I ever able to get outside the four walls surrounding the precincts of my bunker. True, I did not even then get outside the camp, but since after the first two visits I was allowed to walk I could at least look at things at eye level for a couple of hundred yards or more and I could see trees from the root upwards. When for months at a time one’s vision has been limited to things close at hand and those which can be seen sticking out above a nine-foot wall, one gets a curious longing to be able to look straight ahead at the world as it has its origin in the ground. From my cell all that I could see were the tops of some pine trees and the rooks who made their home there, swarming morning and evening. From the garden all that was visible were two high buildings to the south, a smoky factory chimney to the west, and to the north, one of the watch towers which stood at intervals along the main prison wall. The window of my cell was six feet from the ground and it was some time before my guards had become sufficiently tame to allow me to stand on a stool and look out. Even when I did, the only view that I had was again bounded by a high wall.
Until a few days before Xmas I had almost daily visits from Gestapo officials. Ostensibly their purpose was interrogation but all that happened was that I would be shown a few photographs and asked whether I recognized any of the people, or a list of names would be handed to me to see whether they included anybody I knew. Actually, I think the real object of these visits was (a) to make me feel that I was not neglected, (b) to give deserving junior members of the Gestapo opportunities for free meals at the camp canteen. They always managed to arrive half an hour or so before the midday meal and, when the warder came to say that my food had been taken to my cell and to ask whether they would not also go to the canteen for a meal, they accepted the suggestion as an agreeable surprise. Schafer, after his first visit, I never saw again, but Grothe came quite often, and so did the man who came with Grosch at the first visit of the Germans at Dinxperlo; then he called himself von Seydlitz, but I believe that his real name was Schulz. There was also a long and very beautiful young man with fair waved hair, tinted lips and cheeks, and pencilled eyebrows. He was the only one who put me through an interrogation; one which occasioned me great amusement.
A few weeks before our capture a friend of ours had come to us for dinner, bringing with her her son who had come to The Hague from Berlin where he had a remunerative practice as a consultant astrologer. The same evening I had been at Stevens’s house and had been pressed to stay and dine. In refusing I had said, more as a joke than anything else: “I’m so sorry that I can’t stay, but Hitler’s pet astrologer is coming to dinner with us.” Somehow or other the Gestapo had got on to this and had succeeded in ferreting out the man in question. He had at once been arrested and subjected to a thorough grilling for, as it appeared, he had indeed been employed to work out Hitler’s horoscope or whatever else astrologers do.
The blond adonis started off in the stereotyped Gestapo manner. “Now, Herr Best, pay the very greatest attention. This is a very important matter and for you it is a matter of life or death. Don’t think for a moment that you can fool me, for we know everything, e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. What did you arrange with Herr K. von H.?”
Well, what was I to answer to this. I remembered that the man had been to dinner and that I had fetched him and his mother by car from their house. I was very busy at the time and had had to go out after dinner, only returning half an hour or so before our guests left. What we had talked about had completely vanished from my memory. I told my interrogator all this, but he was far from satisfied. Rising from his chair and leaning over me he said: “All lies, Herr Best, on the contrary, you had a most important discussion. Oh, yes, we know all about it, but now what I want to know from you is, what you knew and how did you get to know it.” This was getting far too deep for me and I asked him how he could expect me to remember details of a conversation with a comparative stranger some two months ago. If he knew so much, why not give me a lead.
In a most impressive voice and scanning each word, he asked:
“Why did you tell Herr K. von H. not to return to Germany until AFTER THE CHANGE OF THE MOON?”
Now to give some sense to this question I must go back some time to the occasion of my second meeting at Venlo with Major Solms. One of the things which he told me then was that Hitler firmly believed that his enterprises depended on the phase of the moon at the time of their initiation. After the victorious end of the Polish campaign there had been some sort of celebration in Berlin at which Hitler had been present. When congratulations had been offered to him, to the surprise of everybody he had had one of his uncontrollable outbursts of hysterical rage and had shouted: “This is no time for congratulation, Poland is nothing and that she has been beaten means nothing. The war has not been won—it will never be won—we shall be beaten—the war started ten days too late—it should have started with a rising moon. Anything started at the time of a waning moon is foredoomed to fail.” Solms said that this had created quite a sensation and that Hitler had had one of his attacks and had rolled about on the floor biting the carpet according to his usual habit.
Having myself not the slightest bel
ief in astrology or in lucky and unlucky omens, I had taken this as an amusing and probably apocryphal story. It must though have stuck in my mind, for I remember that I had pulled K. von H.’s leg in a mild sort of way and had told him that it would be better if he postponed his return to Germany until after the full moon a few days later. I must have done so, for May remembered the story and throughout the war noted that all Hitler’s main offensives were in fact started shortly after the moon was new.
Of course I did not tell my young friend anything of this, but simply said that it was quite possible that I said something of the kind, but I had had nothing at the back of my mind and had simply been talking nonsense. When I said, of course no reasonable being believes in astrology, I came in for a first quality snort. “How dare I suggest such a thing. Of course astrology was an absolutely accurate science. The Führer believed in it, and he knew” etc., etc.
Well, this young man came for three days running, morning and afternoon, worrying me about this balderdash. He pounded out pages and pages on his typewriter with not one word of sense on any of them except my denial of belief in astrology—I am not even sure that he dared to write this down for in his opinion heresy was an offence which should bring instant execution. Anyhow, I could smoke all day on these occasions and, on the whole, I rather enjoyed myself. The young man gradually calmed down and towards the end we were on quite amicable terms and he confided to me his hatred of his present work and his conviction that he was by nature destined to higher things.
Meanwhile, my cell life had gradually become less uncomfortable. The Oberführer had given instructions that I could sit or lie on my bed whenever I liked and had sent in a pair of Windsor chairs for the guard and myself; for my chair, two cushions were even provided. I was also permitted to wash at the basin where there was hot and cold water instead of splashing round in the cold spray from the fountain. Every Friday, too, I could have a beautiful hot douche and was given a change of laundry. They managed to find me a second shirt of sorts and I already had some spare underclothes, as a parcel had been found in the boot of my car containing some which I had bought but forgotten to take home. Yes, I had some underclothes, expensive new woollen things, but they were mine only for the first week of wearing and what came back from the wash were war-worn veterans. Every week too, I was provided with a brand new pair of army socks. At first I sent them back to the wash when they were dirty but after a time I was wiser and washed them myself. In this way I gradually accumulated a good stock and could change my socks every day.
I had managed to annex one or two pencils when being interrogated and, as I was provided with a roll of toilet paper I had the requisite materials to enable me to keep some sort of record of events; indeed, from the end of 1939 to final liberation I religiously entered up my diary day by day. In what I write I am therefore able to check the accuracy of my memory by the notes made at the time. Of course I had to be very careful what I wrote as all my belongings were open to inspection; still, I succeeded in devising a sort of unobtrusive code by which to mark any events of importance.
Until the 23rd December the weather had been fine and mild, but on that day it started to snow and for the next days there was a raging blizzard.
For some days there was no question of going out and, until after the New Year, there were no visitors from Berlin with their chances of a smoke. I just had to sit or tramp up and down in my cell, and think. No, I did not think of home, of the life that had been, or that which might have been. To remain sane, I had to discipline my thoughts; I realized that I was in for the duration and that I must make a new life and like it. I did in fact seriously count my blessings and never before nor since have I been so appreciative of every small factor which tended to render life tolerable.
My guard Becker, who had shown signs of friendliness had gone home on leave and had been replaced by a most unpleasant fellow. The little tailor occasionally passed me a cigarette or an apple at night, but for the rest I was thrown entirely on my own resources; nothing to read and no one to talk to. To occupy my mind I tried to recall what I could remember from my youth of mathematics—very little it was. Still, just trying to raise numbers to higher powers by mental multiplication would help me to pass an hour or two. On the analogy of (x+y) (x+y)= x2+2xy+y2 I succeeded in extracting square roots, and I was even able to reconstruct the formula for arithmetic and algebraical sequences which I had entirely forgotten. Although I had paper and pencil, I did not at that early stage dare to let my guards see me writing, so all my calculations had to be done in my head. Although I did not accomplish much I found a new interest in mathematics, and when later I was able to get hold of books I settled down to as much serious study as I could manage without help.
When the snow stopped, I was once more allowed my daily hour in the fresh air. How lovely this was and how I loved everything of nature that I could see; the clouds, the snow crystals, and the occasional bird flying overhead. Yes, prison certainly teaches new appreciation of nature. There was a slight thaw for a few days and huge icicles formed from the eaves and my cell, being on the cold side, had some gigantic specimens before the window; then it turned cold, the 1939-40 record winter had started. The snow had been shovelled from the paths where it formed walls five feet high and it was cold. Until well into February we had, day after day, record low temperatures. I had no hat and only a light summer overcoat, but in spite of temperatures often as low as—3 degrees F., I stuck it for the full hour whenever I was allowed out, much to the disgust of my guards who, being forced to stand in one place, almost froze to death in spite of their warm clothes, mufflers and ear shields.
I forgot to say that after the 19th December I was no longer handcuffed at night. On that day the warder called me and my guard out of the cell and put us in the interrogation room for half an hour or so. When I got back to my cell I noticed at once that a stout ring had been cemented into the wall under the window near my bed. I wondered what on earth this was for. That evening, when I had undressed and gone to bed, the warder produced a leather-covered chain of about a yard and a half in length which he proceeded to fix with a padlock to the ring in the wall. Then he fastened a leather-covered hinged steel band round my wrist and padlocked it to the chain. There I was, just like old Fido, safely chained up for the night. I was simply furious at the time and indeed always felt this nightly chaining as an indignity, yet it was much more comfortable than being handcuffed and as time went on, I became so expert in the management of my chain that I really hardly noticed it at night.
Now I want to be fair and I have to admit that from the German point of view nothing more was intended than a precaution against any attempt at escape during the night which might result in my suffering injury. Instructions had been given at some very high level that neither Stevens nor I were to be locked in our cells. The idea seemed to be that as long as we were not locked in we could not say that we were being treated as criminals or that we were in solitary confinement. The commandant had, however, been made responsible for our safe custody and also for our being kept out of harm’s way. Although a guard was always on duty in our cells, it was impossible to hope that he would always remain awake at night; in fact, my guards did doze off regularly. If therefore there had been no chain to limit our freedom of movement, one or the other of us might have been tempted to make a get-away and might easily have lost his life in the process. When I got to know the details of the camp security system I realized that escape was an absolute impossibility, since from our building one could only have got out into the concentration camp proper which surrounded us. During the more than five years which I spent here, although very many attempts were made, no prisoner ever succeeded in escaping from the camp for more than a few hours, and none got more than a few hundred yards away. When, in 1944, the greatest British experts at escaping, men such as Wing-Commander Day, Major John Dodge and Flight-Lieutenants Dowse, Churchill, and Jam es were imprisoned in the Bunker, they had to give up any further attempts at
escape as hopeless.
I have written thus fully on this subject for, since our return home, there have been frequent references in the Press to Stevens and myself as having been kept in fetters for a number of years. Neither of us was ever fettered during the daytime except on the few occasions which I have mentioned. I must admit, too, that had not some measure been taken to restrict my liberty of movement I should very probably have attempted to get away. I had refused to give my parole and it seems to me that the Germans were justified in taking the precautions which they did, even if their nature seems most objectionable to our eyes. Everybody hated the business, both warders and guards (except, of course, Ettlinger, who obviously took pleasure in it). In December 1941, after Stevens had left the Bunker for a new home at Dachau, Eccarius came in one evening to chain me up as usual, bringing with him not my wristlet, but the one previously used by Stevens. I told him at once that he had brought the wrong one but he solemnly answered that it was the only one he had and that he was sure that I would find it quite comfortable. I certainly did, for being slighter in build than Stevens, I could quite easily slip my hand out of it when it was locked. After this we went through the same farce every night. At ten o’clock, or whenever I said I was ready, the warder came in and chained me up. I then slipped off my bracelet, hung it on the bed-post, and either sat down again for a read or went to bed. In the morning, I slipped the ring over my wrist again so that the warder could unlock me. Quite often though he would come in whilst I was still asleep and on such occasions had to wait for me to put on my fetters before he could carry on with the business of setting me at liberty. Neither of us said a word, nor even smiled. Orders are orders and the conventions must be observed.
