The Kindly Ones Read online

  On Sundays, when I didn’t have too much work, I’d take an Opel and we’d go to the beach, to Eupatoria. Often I’d drive myself. The heat was increasing by the day, we were in the heart of springtime, and I had to watch out for the clusters of naked boys who, lying on their stomachs on the burning asphalt of the road, scattered like sparrows before each vehicle, in a lively jumble of thin little tanned bodies. Eupatoria had a fine mosque, the largest one in the Crimea, designed in the sixteenth century by the famous Ottoman architect Sinan, and some curious ruins; but we couldn’t find any Portwein there, or even really any tea; and the lake water was stagnant and muddy. So we would leave the city for the beaches, where we sometimes met groups of soldiers coming up from Sebastopol to rest from the fighting. Most of the time naked, almost always completely white, apart from their faces, necks, and forearms, they played around like children, rushing into the water, then sprawling on the sand still wet, breathing in its warmth like a prayer, to chase away the winter cold. Often the beaches were empty. I liked the old-fashioned look of these Soviet beaches: brightly colored parasols missing their canvas, benches stained with bird droppings, changing booths made of rusty metal with their paint flaking off, revealing your feet and head to the kids lazing by the fences. We had our favorite place, a beach south of the city. The day we discovered it, half a dozen cows, scattered around a brightly colored trawler lying on the sand, were grazing on the new grass of the steppe invading the dunes, indifferent to the blond child on a rickety bicycle weaving between them. Across the narrow bay, a sad little Russian tune drifted from a blue shack perched on a shaky dock, in front of which rocked, tied up with old ropes, three poor fishing boats. The place was bathed in calm forsakenness. We had brought some fresh bread and some red apples from the previous year that we snacked on while we drank some vodka; the water was cold, invigorating. To our right stood two old ramshackle refreshment stalls, padlocked, and a lifeguard’s tower on the verge of collapse. The hours passed without our saying much. Voss read; I slowly finished the vodka and plunged back into the water; one of the cows, for no reason, galloped off down the beach. When we left, passing by a little fishing village to get our car, which was parked farther up, I saw a flock of geese slipping one after another beneath a wooden gate; the last one, with a little green apple wedged in her beak, was running to catch up with her sisters.

  I often saw Ohlendorf too. At work, I mostly dealt with Seibert; but in the late afternoon, if Ohlendorf wasn’t too busy, I would go to his office for a cup of coffee. He drank it constantly; gossips said it was his sole nourishment. He seemed always busy with a multitude of tasks that sometimes had little to do with the Group. Seibert, in fact, managed the daily work; he was the one who supervised the other officers from the Gruppenstab, and who led the regular meetings with the Chief of Staff or the Ic of the Eleventh Army. To submit an official question to Ohlendorf, you had to go through his adjutant, Obersturmführer Heinz Schubert, a descendent of the great composer and a conscientious man, although a little slow. So when Ohlendorf received me, a little like a professor meeting with a student outside of class, I never spoke to him about work; instead we discussed theoretical or ideological questions. One day I brought up the Jewish question. “The Jews!” he exclaimed. “Damn them! They’re worse than the Hegelians!” He smiled one of his rare smiles before going on, in his precise, musical, slightly shrill voice. “You could say that Schopenhauer saw all the more correctly that Marxism, at bottom, is a Jewish perversion of Hegel. Isn’t that so?”—“I wanted especially to ask your opinion about our work,” I hazarded.—“You want to talk about the destruction of the Jewish people, I suppose?”—“Yes. I should confess to you that it poses some problems for me.”—“It poses problems for everyone,” he replied categorically. “To me too it poses problems.”—“What is your opinion, then?”—“My opinion?” He stretched, and joined his fingertips in front of his lips; his eyes, usually piercing, had gone almost empty. I wasn’t used to seeing him in uniform; Ohlendorf, for me, remained a civilian, and I had trouble imagining him other than in his discreet, perfectly cut suits. “It’s a mistake,” he finally said. “But a necessary mistake.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. “I should explain. Have some coffee. It’s a mistake, because it’s the result of our inability to manage the problem in a more rational way. But it’s a necessary mistake because, in the present situation, the Jews present a phenomenal, urgent danger for us. If the Führer ended up imposing the most radical solution, it’s because he was forced into it by the indecision and incompetence of the men put in charge of the problem.”—“What do you mean by our inability to solve the problem?”—“I’m about to explain that. You must remember how, after the Seizure of Power, all the irresponsible idiots and psychopaths in the Party started bellowing for radical measures, and how all kinds of illegal or detrimental actions were launched, like Streicher’s imbecilic initiatives. The Führer, very wisely, reined in those unrestrained actions and undertook a legal resolution of the problem, which ended with the racial laws of 1935, on the whole satisfactory. But even after that, between the fussy bureaucrats who drowned out every advance beneath a flood of paper, and the overexcited fools who encouraged Einzelaktionen, often for their own personal interests, a solution to the Jewish problem as a whole was still far from being found. The pogroms of 1938, which did so much harm to Germany, were a logical consequence of this lack of coordination. It was only when the SD began to concentrate seriously on the problem that an alternative to all these ad hoc initiatives could emerge. After lengthy studies and discussions we were able to elaborate and propose a coherent overall policy: accelerated emigration. I think even today that this solution could have satisfied everyone, and that it was perfectly realizable, even after the Anschluss. The structures that were created to promote emigration, especially the use of ill-gotten Jewish funds to finance the emigration of poor Jews, turned out to be very effective. You might remember that little obsequious half-Austrian, who worked under Knochen, then under Behrends…?”—“You mean Sturmbannführer Eichmann? Indeed, I saw him again last year, in Kiev.”—“Yes, that’s right. Well, in Vienna, he put a remarkable organization into place. It worked very well.”—“Yes, but afterward there was Poland. And no country in the world was ready to accept three million Jews.”—“Exactly.” He had straightened up and crossed one leg over the other. “But even then we could have resolved the difficulties step by step. Ghettoization, of course, was a catastrophe; but Frank’s attitude contributed a lot to that, in my opinion. The real problem is that we wanted to do everything at the same time: repatriate the Volksdeutschen and resolve the Jewish problem as well as the Polish problem. So of course it was chaos.”—“Yes, but really, the repatriation of the Volksdeutschen was urgent: no one could know how long Stalin would continue to cooperate. He could have slammed the door shut any day. And we never did manage to save the Volga Germans.”—“We could have, I think. But they didn’t want to come. They made the mistake of trusting Stalin. They felt protected because of their status, isn’t that so? In any case, you’re right: we absolutely had to begin with the Volksdeutschen. But that concerned only the Incorporated Territories, not the Generalgouvernement. If everyone had agreed to cooperate, there would have been a way to move the Jews and the Poles out of the Warthegau and Danzig-Westpreussen and into the Generalgouvernement, to make room for the repatriated Volksdeutschen. But here we’re touching the limits of our National Socialist State as it now exists. It’s a fact that the organization of the National Socialist administration is not yet equal to meeting the political and social requirements of our mode of society. The Party is eaten away by too many corrupt elements, who defend their private interests. So each dispute turns immediately into an exaggerated conflict. In the case of the repatriation, the Gauleiters of the Incorporated Territories behaved with phenomenal arrogance, and the Generalgouvernement reacted similarly. Everyone accused everyone else of treating his territory as a dumping ground. And th
e SS, which had been put in charge of the problem, didn’t have enough power to impose a systematic regulation. At every stage, somebody would take an unauthorized initiative, or else challenge the Reichsführer’s decisions by making use of his private access to the Führer. Our State is so far an absolute, national, and socialist Führerstaat only in theory; in practice, and it’s only getting worse, it’s a form of pluralist anarchy. The Führer can try to arbitrate, but he can’t be everywhere, and our Gauleiters know very well how to interpret his orders, deform them, and then proclaim that they’re following his will when actually they’re doing whatever they want.”

  All this had brought us quite a way from the Jews. “Ah yes, the Chosen People. Even with all these obstacles, an equitable solution remained possible. For instance, after our victory over France, the SD, in conjunction with the Auswärtiges Amt, began to think seriously about a Madagascar option. Before that, we had envisaged parking all the Jews around Lublin, in a kind of large reservation where they could have lived quietly without posing any risks for Germany; but the Generalgouvernement categorically refused, and Frank, taking advantage of his connections, managed to have the project shelved. But Madagascar was serious. We carried out studies, there was room there for all the Jews within our sphere of control. We went very far in our planning, we even had employees of the Staatspolizei vaccinated against malaria, in preparation for their departure. It was mostly Amt IV that headed the project, but the SD provided information and ideas, and I read all the reports.”—“Why didn’t it come about?”—“Quite simply because the British, very unreasonably, refused to accept our crushing superiority and sign a peace treaty with us! Everything depended on that. First of all because France had to cede Madagascar to us, which would have figured in the treaty, and also because England would have had to contribute its fleet, isn’t that so?”

  Ohlendorf paused to go ask his orderly for another pot of coffee. “Here too, in Russia, the initial idea was much more limited. Everyone thought the campaign would be short and we planned to do what we did in Poland, that is, decapitate the leaders, the intelligentsia, the Bolshevist chiefs, all the dangerous men. A horrible task in itself, but vital and logical, given the excessive character of Bolshevism, its absolute lack of scruples. After the victory, we could have once again considered a global, final solution, creating for instance a Jewish reservation in the North or in Siberia, or sending them to Birobidjan, why not?”—“It’s a horrible task whatever the case,” I said. “Can I ask you why you accepted? With your rank and your abilities, you could have been more useful in Berlin.”—“Of course,” he replied briskly. “I’m neither a soldier nor a policeman, and this minion’s work doesn’t suit me. But it was a direct order and I had to accept. And also, as I told you, we all thought it would last a month or two, no more.” I was surprised that he answered me so frankly; we had never had such an open conversation. “And after the Vernichtungsbefehl?” I went on. Ohlendorf didn’t reply right away. The orderly brought the coffee; Ohlendorf offered me some more: “I’ve had enough, thanks.” He remained plunged in his thoughts. Finally he replied, slowly, choosing his words carefully. “The Vernichtungsbefehl is a terrible thing. Paradoxically, it’s almost like an order from the God of the Jews’ Bible, isn’t it? Now go and strike Amalek, and utterly destroy all that they have, and spare them not; but slay both man and woman, infant and suckling, ox and sheep, camel and ass. You know that, it’s in the first Book of Samuel. When I received the order, that’s what I thought about. And as I told you, I believe that it’s a mistake, that we should have had the intelligence and ability to find a more…humane solution, let’s say, one more in agreement with our conscience as Germans and as National Socialists. In that sense, it’s a failure. But you also have to look at the realities of war. The war goes on, and every day that this enemy force remains behind our lines reinforces our adversary and weakens us. It’s a total war, all the forces of the nation are involved in it, and we can’t afford to neglect any means to victory, any. That’s what the Führer understood clearly: he cut the Gordian knot of doubts, hesitations, divergent interests. He did it, as he does everything, to save Germany, aware that if he can send hundreds of thousands of Germans to their deaths, he can and must also send to theirs the Jews and all our other enemies. The Jews are praying and striving for our defeat, and so long as we haven’t won we can’t nourish such an enemy in our midst. And for us, who have received the heavy burden of carrying out this task to the end, our duty toward our people, our duty as true National Socialists, is to obey. Even if obedience is the knife that guts the will of man, as St. Joseph of Cupertino said. We have to accept our duty in the same way that Abraham accepts the unimaginable sacrifice of his son Isaac demanded by God. You’ve read Kierkegaard? He calls Abraham the knight of faith, who must sacrifice not only his son, but also and especially his ethical principles. For us it’s the same, isn’t that so? We have to accomplish Abraham’s sacrifice.”

  Ohlendorf, I could tell from what he said, would have preferred not to have been placed in this position; but who, these days, had the good fortune to do what he preferred? He had understood this and accepted it lucidly. As a Kommandant, he was strict and conscientious; unlike my old Einsatzgruppe, which had quickly abandoned this impractical method, he insisted that executions be conducted according to the military method, with a firing squad, and he often sent his officers, such as Seibert or Schubert, on inspection to make sure the Kommandos were respecting his orders. He also insisted on curbing as much as possible all acts of theft or misappropriations by the soldiers in charge of the executions. Finally, he had strictly forbidden anyone to strike or torment the condemned; according to Schubert, these orders were followed as well as they could be. Aside from that, he always sought to take positive initiatives. The previous autumn, in collaboration with the Wehrmacht, he had organized a brigade of Jewish artisans and farmers to bring in the harvest, near Nikolaev; he was forced to put an end to this experiment on direct orders from the Reichsführer, but I knew that he regretted that, and in private he regarded the order as a mistake. In the Crimea, he had invested himself in developing relations with the Tatar population, with considerable success. In January, when the Soviets’ surprise offensive and the capture of Kerch had put our whole position in the Crimea in danger, the Tatars, spontaneously, placed a tenth of their male population at Ohlendorf’s disposal to help defend our lines; they also provided considerable help to the SP and the SD in the anti-partisan struggle, handing over to us those they captured, or liquidating them themselves. The army appreciated this assistance, and Ohlendorf’s efforts in this area had contributed a lot to improving his relations with the AOK, after the conflict with Wöhler. Still, he was hardly at ease in his role; and I wasn’t unduly surprised when, immediately upon Heydrich’s death, he began to negotiate his return to Germany. Heydrich was wounded in Prague on May 29 and died on June 4; the next day, Ohlendorf flew to Berlin to attend the funeral; he returned in the second half of the month promoted to SS-Brigadeführer and with a promise of a rapid replacement; as soon as he got back, he began making his farewell rounds. One evening, he briefly told me how it had happened: four days after Heydrich’s death, the Reichsführer had called him to a meeting with most of the other Amtschefs, Müller, Streckenbach, and Schellenberg, to discuss the future of the RSHA, and the very ability of the RSHA to continue as an independent organization without Heydrich. The Reichsführer had chosen not to replace Heydrich right away; he himself would be in charge during the interim, but from a distance; and this decision required the presence of all the Amtschefs in Berlin, to supervise directly their Ämter in Himmler’s name. Ohlendorf’s relief was obvious; beneath his customary reserve, he seemed almost happy. But that was scarcely noticed amid the general excitement: we were on the point of launching our big summer campaign in the Caucasus. Operation Blue got under way on June 28 with Bock’s offensive on Voronej; two days later, Ohlendorf’s replacement, Oberführer Dr. Walter Bierkamp, arrived
in Simferopol. Ohlendorf wasn’t leaving alone: Bierkamp had brought his own adjutant with him, Sturmbannführer Thielecke, and the plan was to replace most of the veteran officers of the Gruppenstab, as well as the leaders of the Kommandos, during the summer, according to the availability of their replacements. At the beginning of July, in the enthusiasm generated by the fall of Sebastopol, Ohlendorf gave us an eloquent departure speech, invoking, with his natural dignity, all the grandeur and difficulty of our deadly fight against Bolshevism. Bierkamp, who came to us from Belgium and France, but who before had headed the Kripo in Hamburg, his native city, then served as IdS in Düsseldorf, spoke a few words to us. He seemed very satisfied with his new position: “The work in the East, especially in wartime, is the most challenging possible for a man,” he declared. By profession, he was a jurist and a lawyer; his statements, during his speech and the reception that followed, revealed a policeman’s mentality. He must have been about forty and was stocky, a little short-legged, with a sly look; despite his doctorate, he was definitely not an intellectual, and his language mixed Hamburg slang with SP jargon; but he seemed determined and capable. I saw Ohlendorf again only one more time after that evening, during the banquet offered by the AOK to celebrate the fall of Sebastopol: he was busy with the army officers, and spent a long time conversing with von Manstein; but he wished me good luck, and invited me to come see him whenever I was in Berlin.