Assignment Gestapo

by Sven Hassel

  ‘Yeah, but the thing is,’ confessed Hölzer, nervously, ‘I can’t stand the sight of that axe coming down . . . It’s bad enough being in a firing squad, but just having to stand and watch while some bloke’s head’s hacked off his shoulders . . .’ He shivered. ‘And it’s not even as if most of the chaps here have done anything really wrong—’

  ‘That’s all you know,’ said Stever, severely. ‘It’s not up to you to say. In any case, if you’ve broken the law you’ve broken the law and you got to pay for it, and that’s all there is to it, and in this country there’s a law that says we’ve not got to think. It’s as simple as that, and no one but a fool would ever let on he’d got anything but cotton wool stuffed inside his head.,. Am I right?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘There you are, then. You and me are good citizens. We know the law and we keep it. We watch which way the flag’s flying, and we fly with it until it starts to change . . . And as far as I’m concerned, I don’t give a sod whether I’m saying Heil Hitler or Long Live the Party, it’s all one to me.’

  Hölzer shook his head.

  ‘It’s no good, Stever. I still want to get out of this place. I tell you, the sand’s running out, and I reckon it’s not going to be so long before the flag does start to change. And when it does, Stahlschmidt’s going to be one of the. first to go to the wall – and I don’t want to be in here with him. I want to get out while there’s still time.’

  ‘Don’t be a fool, Hölzer. There’s an easier way round it than that. Nothing simpler than choosing one or two of the right sort of prisoner, helping half a dozen or so to do a bunk, some of ’em are bound to survive . . . and bob’s your uncle, there’s your guarantee for the future! But as for going off to the front to be a bleeding hero, that’s just sodding stupid. You go down to the barracks where the 76th are stationed. Go down there some time tomorrow. They’re sending off a company to the front. You take a good long look at them as they set out, and I’ll promise to give you a bottle of booze for every happy smiling face you see.’ Stever spat, contemptuously. ‘You won’t see none! They’ll all look as miserable as bleeding sin, like they’re marching off to be buried, because they all bloody well know it’s as good as a death sentence. You stay here, on the other hand, and you got a fighting chance. Just say yes whenever it’s demanded of you, crawl up Stahlschmidt’s arse, lick the Major’s boots, and there you are, safe as bleeding houses! And when the final showdown comes, you’ve only got to remember one thing: you carry out orders, you don’t give ’em. You didn’t make the laws, you didn’t ask to work here, you had no choice in the matter.’

  ‘That’s a fact,’ said Hölzer. His eyes suddenly gleamed. ‘If I had my way, I’d be in the Navy,’ he confessed. ‘The Army’s not my scene, never was. But the Navy, now . . . and that gear they wear . . .’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘All the birds go for it, you noticed that?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Stever turned back to the cell and opened the door. ‘Let’s see how Auntie’s getting on.’

  The Brigadier General’s corpse swung sadly in slow circles, back and forth, round and round, on the end of its rope of knotted sheet.

  ‘Changing colour already,’ observed Stever. ‘Well, if we’re to believe what they tell us in church the old boy’ll be up there perched on a cloud and playing his harp by now. No rules and regulations, not a care in the bleeding world.’ He looked across at the body and grinned. ‘He wasn’t such a bad old sod at that. Old enough to be my granddad and he didn’t half take a beating. I thought he’d never go.’ He closed the cell door again and they took up their position outside, awaiting the arrival of the doctor. ‘I did a good job on that one,’ remarked Stever, with a self-satisfied nod. ‘Not a mark on his body, even Stahlschmidt agreed I knew what I was doing.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  They stood in silence a few moments.

  ‘I am, of course, a specialist in my own field,’ said Stever.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘The number of people that have passed through my hands since I been here is nobody’s business . . . the number of people I’ve given the treatment to . . . know what I mean?’

  ‘I know what you mean.’

  ‘You get a sort of feeling for it. A sort of knack, like. You know what you can do and what you can’t do. Some people never learn, they just get into a frenzy and beat a bloke to pulp. Now to my way of thinking, that’s butchery pure and simple. No skill in it, see? No art. Anyone can do it. But—’

  Stever’s monologue was interrupted by the arrival of the doctor. He swept like a whirlwind into the cell, took one cursory glance at the body, shrugged his shoulders and signed a death certificate with no more ado.

  ‘Here you are.’ He thrust the paper at Stever and headed fast for the door. ‘If only these wretched people would contain themselves in patience until the morning,’ he said, irritably. ‘What do a few hours more or less matter to them, after all? Dragged out of my bed at all times of the day and night . . .’ He turned and waved a hand towards the body. ‘Get that thing cut down and dispose of it.’

  He disappeared along the passage and Stever closed the door behind him. He looked at Hölzer with a grin.

  ‘See what I mean? I did a grand job on the old bloke . . .’

  They set the stool upright and Hölzer clambered on to it to untie the deceased Brigadier General.

  ‘It’s so bloody stupid,’ he complained. ‘One minute we’re stringing the poor bastard up and the next minute we’re taking him down again. Up and down, up and down, like a sodding see-saw.’

  ‘There’s worse things than see-saws,’ observed Stever, sagely. ‘I’d sooner go up and down on a see-saw than in and out of the bleeding trenches . . .’

  They cut the body down and dragged it the length of the corridor, down the stairs to the cellar. As they opened the door they both let go of it at the same moment and it slid from top to bottom of the stone steps. With joint recriminations they clattered after it, caught it up again and heaved it by the legs behind them. There was a sharp crack as the head ran into something.

  ‘Sod my uncle!’ screamed Hölzer, exasperated. ‘What they want is undertakers, not flaming soldiers! This is my lot. I tell you, this is my lot. I’m going. I’m putting in for a transfer first thing tomorrow. I’m—’

  ‘For Christ’s sake,’ snapped Stever, ‘will you shut up bleeding moaning? On and on until you drive me bleeding bonkers!’

  ‘Well, I mean it,’ said Hölzer. ‘I’ve had a belly full.’ He let fall his leg of the body. ‘Carting perishing corpses around, collecting up the pissing heads after an execution, they’ll have us wiping their arses next, that’ll be the next step!’

  ‘Well, all right, then!’ Stever threw down the second leg and turned angrily to face Hölzer. ‘Go and get yourself transferred if that’s what you want. But don’t come bleeding whining to me when you’re lying head first in the mud at the bottom of some stinking trench with your balls blown off!’

  ‘Don’t you worry,’ said Hölzer, between his teeth. ‘Your number’ll be up long before then, you see if it isn’t . . .’

  15 War game

  16 Knegsverdienstkreuz I Klasse-Medal for Military Merit, 1st Class

  17 Chicken – a term of derision for the Nazi eagle

  Obergefreiter Stever planted his elbows on the bar of the ‘Matou’ and settled down to be argumentative. He pointed to finger towards Emil, the owner of the bistrot.

  ‘Just shows how little YOU know about it,’ he declared, witheringly. ‘As a matter of fact, most of ’em go like lambs to the slaughter . . . you don’t even have to show ’em the way . . . they get down on their knees and they put their heads on the block just like as if they was saying their bleeding prayers. It’s quite a lovely little sight. No screaming, no shouting, no—’

  ‘Do you mind?’ said Emil, coldly. ‘I have no desire to hear the details of how you murder people. I run a bistrot, not a slaughter house.’

  Stever picked up his glass
, not at all discouraged.

  ‘We’ve got a tank lieutenant with us at the moment. Quite a decent type, as officers go. Takes whatever’s coming to him and never a murmur. He’s for the high jump pretty soon and I’ll bet you a pound to a pinch of the proverbial that we don’t hear a squeak out of him.’

  ‘That’s as maybe. I still don’t wish to hear about it.’ Emil wiped a damp rag angrily across the counter. ‘You’re a sadistic swine, Stever.’

  ‘What, me?’ Stever finished his drink and pushed his glass across for a refill. ‘What makes you say that?’

  He sounded quite hurt. Emil poured out his drink and banged the glass back at him.

  ‘Because it’s flaming well true, that’s what makes me say it! Because you so obviously love your work . . . you stink of war and death and torture and you wallow in it like a pig in shit . . . you’re not a man any more, you’re just a degradation!’

  ‘Look here’ said Stever, earnestly, ‘you’ve got it all wrong! I know the job I’m doing might seem lousy to some people—’

  Emil cut him short with a derisive cackle of laughter.

  ‘That’s the understatement of the year! Listen to me, you rat—’ He leaned across the counter and spat the words into Stever’s chubby pink face – ‘one of these days you’re going to find yourself swinging from the wrong end of a rope, and when that day comes I shall be the first to open the champagne!’

  Stever frowned. He withdrew slightly and called across to a girl sitting alone in the corner. She was waiting for clients, but it was too early in the evening: few people ever came to the ‘Matou’ before ten o’clock.

  ‘Hey, Erika!’ Stever snapped his fingers at her and she slowly looked up. ‘Did you hear what he said? You don’t think I’m a – a sadistic swine and a rat, do you?’

  His tone was appealing. He seemed genuinely in search of information. Erika raised an eyebrow and regarded him with bitter distaste.

  ‘You’re a swine, all right,’ she said. ‘Dunno about a rat . . . a sewer rat, perhaps.’

  ‘But why?’ Stever held out a hand in bewilderment. ‘What have I ever done to you?’

  ‘What wouldn’t you do,’ said Emil, ‘if we ever ended up in one of your cells?’

  ‘No, no, no!’ Stever shook his head. ‘It’s not what I’d do, its what I’d be made to do . . . You’ve got me all wrong. I feel sorry for the blokes we got in there. But what can I do for ’em? I haven’t got no authority, no more than what you have.’

  ‘You don’t have to work there!’ hissed Erika, from her corner.

  ‘So what should I do instead? Put in for a transfer and run the risk of getting my head blown off? Would that suit you better? Look,’ said Stever, growing desperate, ‘I didn’t ask for this job, did I? It was all decided over my head by some pen-pushing blimp sitting on his fat arse in an office: Obergefreiter Steven’s got to be a jailer . . . It could have been different. It could have been the Russian front. But it wasn’t, it was Hamburg. So that’s what I call fate, that is, and I don’t believe in fighting against fate. And as for what goes on – well, I ask you, is it my fault? Do I make the laws? Do I decide who’s going to live and who’s going to die? Do I hell! Some fat slob passes the order down the line and I’m just the poor cunt that has to carry it out:

  ‘My heart bleeds for you,’ said Emil.

  ‘I‘ll tell you what,’ said Stever, turning back to him. ‘You got to bend with the storm, in this life. When the war comes to an end and the wheel turns full circle – which it will, make no mistake – I’ll be sitting pretty with a stack of prisoners to look after. Only thing is, they’ll be a different lot of prisoners. The old bunch’ll be let out, and the new bunch’ll be brought in. And people like you—’ He jabbed a finger into Emits chest –‘people what haven’t been forced to carry out orders like I’ve been, people what’ve made a profit selling drinks to the chicken lovers17 – they’re going to find themselves laughing on the other side of their faces. And that, my friend, is what those as are intellectual call Nemesis’

  Stever scornfully tossed two marks on the counter and walked out of the bar.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Execution

  THE following day, Lieutenant ohlsen was called to stahlschmidt’s office and there presented with his bill of Indictment, which he was required to sign in three places. He was graciously permitted to take the document back with him to his cell and was given an hour in which to read it through and note its contents.

  Left alone, Lt. Ohlsen solemnly unfolded the paper and began to study it:

  ‘State Secret Police

  Hamburg Division

  Stadthausbrücke 8

  BILL OF INDICTMENT

  ‘Wehrmacht Kommandantur, Hamburg

  Altona Division

  ‘To: General van der Oost,

  Garrison Commander,

  76th Infantry Regiment, Altona

  ‘Council of War 391/X AK against Lt. Bernt Viktor Ohlsen of the 27th Tank Regiment.

  ‘On 19th December, 1940, Lt. Ohlsen was sentenced to five years’ detention for failing in his duty as an officer when serving with the 13th Tank Regiment. After eight weeks in the prison at Glatz he was transferred to a disciplinary armoured regiment. He is at present being held in preventive detention at the Altona Garrison on the order of the Gestapo, Section IV/2a Hamburg. He has no Counsel.

  ‘I accuse Bernt Ohlsen of planning to commit high treason, as follows:

  1. On several occasions and using veiled words he has attempted to incite men to the murder of the Führer Adolf Hitler.

  2. On several occasions he has made remarks injurious to the good name and reputation of various of the officials of the Third Reich, including the Führer Adolf Hitler. (Details of the above-mentioned remarks are attached to this Bill and marked Exhibit “L”.)

  3. In spreading gossip and false rumours the Accused has aided and abetted the enemies of the Third Reich and acted in such a manner as to undermine the morale of the German people.

  ‘I ask that the Accused be condemned to death in accordance with Article 5 of the Law for the Protection of the People and of the State dated 28th February, 1933; and in accordance with Article 80, Para. 2; Article 83, Paras. 2 and 3; and Article 91b, 73 Stbg.

  ‘Incitement to murder of the Führer carries the penalty of death by decapitation under Article 5 of the Law of 28th July, 1933.

  ‘The following documents are enclosed:

  1. Confession of the Accused.

  2. Voluntary Statements by three Witnesses:

  (a) A Garrison cleaner, Frau K;

  (b) Lt. P. of the Military Political Department;

  (c) Gefreiter H. of the Political Service of Military Security.

  ‘The above-named witnesses will not be called to give evidence at the trial. Their Statements shall be destroyed as soon as judgement has been passed, in accordance with Article 14 of the State Security Bill.

  ‘The entire matter is classified GEKADOS (secret) and all documents pertaining to it shall be finally lodged with the RSHA, Prinz Albrecht Strasse 8, Berlin.

  ‘The preliminary investigation has been carried out by SD-Standartenführer Kriminalrat Paul Bielert.

  (Sgd.) F. WEYERSBERG

  Prosecutor General.’

  Lt. Ohlsen walked across to the window. He stared through the bars, through the grey unwashed panes of glass, through to the unimaginable freedom that lay beyond. Seeing it in print for the first time, that monstrous request that he should be beheaded, he found himself suddenly unable to face the reality. It must surely be a black joke, one of the Gestapo’s sick attempts at humour. At Torgau, he knew, it was frequently their pleasure to arrange for ten executions to be staged and only eight to be carried out. They worked on the not unreasonable assumption that by the time the last two men on the list had witnessed their companions’ heads rolling into the basket, they would be willing to go to any lengths of collaboration to avoid the same fate for themselves. It was small comfort, but all he
could think of.

  ‘That same day a letter from the Wehrmacht Kommandantur in Hamburg was sent to the Kommandantur at Atlona:

  ‘Wehrmachtkommandantur, Hamburg

  TOP SECRET

  ‘This correspondence must be read by two officers and then destroyed. Receipt must be confirmed by telephone.

  ‘Subject: Executions following Sentence of Death.

  ‘It is anticipated that sentence of death will tomorrow be passed on the following four soldiers:

  (a) Infantry Oberleutnant Karl Heinz Berger of the 12th Grenadiers

  (b) Lieutenant Bernt Viktor Ohlsen of the 27th Tank Regiment

  (c) Oberfeldwebel Franz Gernerstadt of the 19th Artillery Regiment

  (d) Gefreiter Paul Baum of the 3rd Alpine Regiment.

  ‘Two of the above-mentioned will suffer death by shooting, the 76th Infantry Regiment to provide two firing squads, which shall comprise two Feldwebels and twelve men. A medical officer shall be present at the executions.

  ‘The two other accused shall suffer death by decapitation, and the 76th Infantry Regiment is instructed to call the executioner Rüttger from Berlin to carry out the sentence, which shall take place in closed courtyard B of the Garrison prison.

  ‘A minister of religion shall be present at the request of the accused.

  ‘It is the responsibility’of the 76th Infantry Regiment to provide the necessary four coffins.

  ‘The bodies shall be buried in the special cemetery, Dept. 12/31.

  (Sgd.) A. ZIMMERMANN

  Oberstleutnant.’

  Lt. Ohlsen was not to know it, but arrangements for his execution had therefore been made well in advance, even before the trial had started, even before the court had passed sentence.

  Humanitarianism was a quality unknown and unacknowledged in the Third Reich, whose code of behaviour was based firmly upon a multitude of paragraphs and sub-paragraphs, and upon nothing so flimsy as humanity. The least infringement of any one of these myriad paragraphs carried a rigid penalty, taking no account either of the situation or of the individual. The term ‘extenuating circumstances’ was altogether too vague for even a sub-sub-paragraph and was therefore not recognized.