The Austrian: A War Criminal's Story

by Ellie Midwood

  “Ernst? You said you wanted to talk about something?”

  She dared to address me, at last. I nodded and started twisting the cigarette in my hands, trying to come up with some words, any words, which my mouth so stubbornly refused to speak.

  “Well, what is it?” Lisl tilted her head to one side, trying to catch my gaze. The tears already shone her eyes, and her smile was so small and sad that I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her, for myself, and angry, so goddamn angry at the same time, at Himmler and at myself as well. I stubbed the unfinished cigarette in the ashtray, shoved my hand inside the pocket and put the little blue box in front of the girl.

  “Will you marry me, Lisl?”

  She looked at the box, not daring to reach for it, and back at me, frowning, her eyes asking a silent question: Is this some sick joke?

  “Lisl?” I called her tiredly.

  “Are you serious?” She finally picked up the velvet box with slightly shaking fingers and slowly opened it. It was a simple golden ring I bought from some Jew in Munich, but her face lit up as if she saw the most beautiful diamond in the world. “Oh, Ernst! You are serious, aren’t you? Oh, yes, yes, of course I will!”

  Lisl jumped from her chair and threw her arms around my neck, covering my face with kisses and wetting it with her happy tears.

  “I never thought that you would ask me… Oh, how much I love you! How happy I am!”

  _______________

  Nuremberg prison, March 1946

  How much I loved her, so dearly, selflessly and without holding anything back. It suffocated me sometimes, stronger than any rope ever could, the power of my feelings for her, my Annalise, my blessing and my curse all in one angelic creature with the eyes of a witch. Lying here, on my prison cot, I often closed my eyes at night and pretended that she was here with me, with her lean body against mine, with her soft lips whispering her spells into my ear, with her sharp nails tangled in my hair and reaching for my very mind that was long lost to her. What the hell did she do to me that I was so besotted with her?

  Nothing. She did nothing at all. She would just type something at her desk in the anteroom and absolutely ignore me while I would be staring through an open door at the perfectly straight line between her sharply defined brows, drawn together in concentration, and not even care about what pleasurable suffering it was for me to just look at her like that, through an open door. No wonder that she fooled everyone around her to the truth of her origin; Annalise was so typically Prussian in her prideful coldness, with which she’d glare at me when I offered an out of line comment, or a joke, too dirty for her taste, to which she would then turn her arrogant little head away and leave with an air of an offended royalty.

  Then there were days when she would stand together with me by my desk and look at the orders, holding the back of my chair matter-of-factly, slightly brushing her sleeve on my back. It always infuriated me, knowing that she wasn’t doing it on purpose, with that overused girlish playfulness that other women often had; playfulness that was too obvious to conceal and too unsophisticated for her to use. Annalise didn’t need all that falseness, she was exactly perfect because she was unreachable, cold and detached, until her fingers might pick up my pen from the table, thoughtfully, and without any hidden motive she’d put it between her lips and bite its end, frowning, thinking over something I had just dictated to her and arguing that it wasn’t good because of my schedule. I couldn’t comprehend her words sometimes, I would just sit there with my head buried in my papers, shivers spreading from the back of my head down to my spine from that damned pen she was twisting in her hand, and thinking that if she moved any closer I’d grab her and eat her alive. And she, calm and unsuspecting, would mark something down, put the pen back in its place and look me straight in the eye, asking if I needed something else before she went home.

  Yes, I needed something else, I needed all of her, all for myself, all of that treasure she was hiding under that official uniform. When I got drunk enough to have the courage to approach her, alone and unguarded at her desk, to stretch my hand and caress the soft line of the barely visible skin between the collar of her jacket and the heavy bun of golden hair at the nape on her neck, she would always arch her back away like a cat who didn’t want to be petted, when its spine became almost liquid with contempt at the unwelcome touch.

  It always had the result of only angering me more, and I would begin to force my caress on her, almost grabbing her by the nape of her neck, stroking her hair until she would twist her way out, and, cornered at wherever I would catch her, hiss at me with her Prussian pronunciation, sounding even colder because of that northern accent, “What do you want from me? Leave me alone!” Then she would shoot darts with her squinted eyes and fight off my hands, while hissing “Lass mich in Ruhe! Schwein! Hurensohn!” She couldn’t possibly know that in my delirious, alcohol induced state, her indignant hissing turned into a seductive whisper, and I would only press her tighter against the wall, holding her in place to feel every inch of her body under my hands, still hidden under the layers of the woolen uniform, to then greedily inhale the scent of her skin on her neck, where that tiny blue vein was pulsing desperately under my lips.

  She would freeze at some point, she always used that trick whenever she realized that I was too drunk to be stopped by hissing, clawing and infuriated looks. She would simply play dead in my arms, drop her hands and immediately stop all the fighting. I would still try to move her almost lifeless body, to turn her face to me and kiss her lips, gently this time, barely touching her tightly closed mouth with mine. I would open my eyes and look at her face at last, and only then notice in horror that she was standing with her eyes closed and holding her breath, as if my very presence so near to her was assaulting her senses. And how right she was! I was a pig and a bastard, and everything else she would call me, and rightfully so. How did I dare do that to the only woman who was like a goddess to me? I would have killed any man who would disrespect her with a single touch, and yet I did something so much worse to her.

  I always left her alone at the sight of that cold detachment that she always expressed on her beautiful face, still holding her prideful head high, like an ancient human sacrifice offering herself to the lustful god, doomed and completely withdrawn. She even told me that once, with the same ice in her voice: “Just do it already and get it over with. Don’t kiss me though.” I shook my head in terror, mumbled some pathetic excuse and hurried away from her.

  I couldn’t believe it at first when she came to me herself one day, ambushing me in the deserted hallway next to my office, hesitant, but just for a second before grabbing me by the neck and pressing her lips to mine. I pulled away from her at first, and even asked her what she was doing. Far too suspicious it was, so unlike her, her persistent hands unbuttoning my uniform and that strange calculated determination in her gaze when she looked at me again. She noticed it of course, the doubt in my face, as she smirked with a corner of her red mouth and pulled the straps of her dress off her shoulders, with the casualness of a person who had nothing to lose. That night was the end of everything for me. The end, and the beginning of my happiness.

  _______________

  Linz, November 1933

  “Well, are you happy?”

  I threw a sideways glance at my father, who was standing over my desk in our law office where we both worked, until I would be able to pass the bar and open my own practice.

  “Of course I am. I’m getting married.”

  “Mm. How long have you two known each other?”

  “Long enough. Two and a half years.”

  “It’s strange that we, your parents I mean, only saw her twice over the course of all this time, isn’t it? And the second time was after you announced your engagement.”

  “What’s your point?” Realizing that I couldn’t escape the interrogation, I put away my pen and turned to my father, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “I don’t have one. Just trying to understand why
all of a sudden you decided to marry her.” He leaned onto the bookcase where we kept our files, mirroring my pose. “Is she pregnant?”

  “No, she’s not pregnant!” I answered angrily and picked up my pen again, trying to concentrate on the papers in front of me.

  “Then why are you marrying her?”

  “Because I am! Leave me alone, will you?”

  My father was silent for some time and then spoke again, “Does it have anything to do with your beloved Nazi Party or the SS?”

  “Why would it have anything to do with that?” I mumbled, quickly hiding my eyes. He noticed it most definitely, but didn’t say anything.

  “Reichsführer Himmler ordered me to get married,” I finally admitted, just to get him off my back. “All the officer staff of the SS are prescribed to get married by thirty. Satisfied?”

  My father smirked.

  “Just let me ask you this, son. If your Reichsführer orders you to jump from a bridge tomorrow morning, will you do that as well?”

  “He’s my superior, and it’s the army. I had to agree.” I tried to justify myself, ignoring his previous question.

  “Naturally, you did. It’s so much easier to follow the orders of your superiors than think with your own head, isn’t it? How great it is, to shift the responsibility onto someone else without thinking twice, huh, Ernst? Today they’re ordering you to marry, tomorrow they’ll hand you a machine gun and order you to start shooting people randomly, how about that? Bunch of psychopaths!”

  “Father!” I jumped from my chair in indignation, and sent the pen flying to the opposite wall. “Don’t you dare say such things!”

  He leaned towards me menacingly, his closed fists butting the table, his nose almost touching mine.

  “Don’t you dare tell me what to say or what not to say in my own office!” he said testily. “I am still your father, and have much more authority over you than those leaders of yours!”

  “No, you don’t! I swore my loyalty to them, unto death—”

  He slapped me across the face with the back of his hand for the first time in God knows how many years.

  “Unto death?! You, pathetic moron!!! Listen to yourself! You dare put them above your own blood?! Above your family?! They’re using all of you, miserable kids, and you’re ready to follow them unto death!” He spit out the last words with all the hatred and sarcasm he had. “And I’ll tell you what, you will! You’ll see, you will, one day you’ll remember my words when you’re standing on the gallows!!! But guess what, Ernst, it’s going to be too late! I pray to God, to a God that I don’t believe in, that I won’t live to see that dreadful day! I pray to God that your poor mother will not see that day, because she wouldn’t survive it! You should have had enough dignity to think about her at least, but you don’t have dignity anymore, do you? Or did they brainwash you to such an extent that you don’t even care about your family? Oh yes, I forgot, you have a new family now. You have your brethren. Your Fatherland and your Führer. I hope someone blows his brains out before that psychopath brings the whole country into the abyss, and he will! You only have to listen to how he has perverted even the very idea of National Socialism, so that even old and sane National Socialists like me and my comrades are ashamed to be associated with his new ideas! But not you, the new generation, no, you worship him, because you’ve seen it all and know better, don’t you? You went through the war and saw it all, didn’t you? He’ll get you all into such war, that all of you will indeed die in his name, you mark my words you’ll all die. God have mercy on all of you, blind souls.”

  My father mumbled some religious words, which was so unusual for him that it seemed even more fearful for that very reason, and walked out of the room. I brushed my burning cheek on my shoulder and lowered myself back into my chair. Too bad he didn’t understand that it was impossible to get out of all this now.

  _______________

  Nuremberg, March 1946

  “It’s impossible to get out of here, so stop scrutinizing the walls.”

  I turned to the voice behind my back. Dr. Gilbert had decided to watch us take walks in the courtyard now, as if it wasn’t enough to see his face both in jail and in the courtroom.

  “I said the same thing to your friend Skorzeny, as soon as they processed his papers,” he added, looking a little irritated by the absence of the usual sarcastic replies from my side.

  “Otto got caught?” I frowned. My best friend had been proclaimed the most dangerous diversionist in the Reich. It was next to impossible to catch him, unless…

  “Of course he got caught. Do you know what your problem is? You Nazis think too much of yourself. You used to think that you are some sort of super humans, who are invincible to the rest of us ‘degraded mortals.’” He sneered with contempt. “You’re not so invincible now, are you? Not even your highly praised head of the diversion unit. We got him, alright.”

  I caught myself smiling wider and wider, and had to turn my face away so the psychiatrist wouldn’t catch onto it.

  “What are you smiling about?” Gilbert asked, even more annoyed seeing my reaction; a reaction which was not the one that he expected.

  “Nothing. I’m just glad that he’s alive and here as well.” I tried to sound as sincere as I could.

  Dr. Gilbert studied my face a little longer, still scowling, but then turned away and left to talk to the others, as if losing all interest in my meek attitude.

  I lifted my head and looked at the prison barred windows, trying to figure out where Otto was kept. One thing Gilbert was wrong about: if Otto got caught, it was because he had allowed himself to get caught, for whatever reason. The cold, damp prison, where they had thrown me into, suddenly turned into a hopeful place.

  _______________

  Linz, January 1934

  That’s it, no way to get out of this now, I thought, looking around the cold, damp cell, stinking of mold and rust where they threw me, only a day after my wedding. Not that I didn’t see it coming any time soon, but I guess my fame as an unannounced leader of the Austrian SS, thanks to my dearest superiors in Munich and Berlin, traveled fast enough for the Dollfuss people to finally make their move.

  Engelbert Dollfuss, an Austrian chancellor, had banned the Austrian Nazi Party as early as the beginning of the 1933, as soon as he took over the power in the country and, inspired by Mussolini, proclaimed the new state regime to be ‘austrofascism,’ whatever the hell that meant. It didn’t mean anything for the country, only that they became good friends with Duce, and Dollfuss was vacationing on Mussolini’s villa with his family – that’s what that meant. The point was, he didn’t get along with Hitler because the latter was an Austrian himself, and had long been nursing plans of uniting both countries into one Reich. Needless to say, Dollfuss was quite fine with being a dictator in his own land and didn’t fancy his rival’s plans so much, and therefore befriended someone, who could step up for him in case the German chancellor got too aggressive with his ideas. And that’s exactly how I, together with several hundred of my fellow SS comrades and Party members, found ourselves between a rock and a hard place.

  We were careful enough, as I found out from the charges brought up against me, which were nothing more than being a member of the illegal SS and ‘executing antigovernment activities.’ So they didn’t have anything particular on us, no compromising papers, no Reich orders, which we always burned after reading, no funds, neatly hidden in conspiracy apartments they didn’t know about – nothing at all. As a lawyer, knowing that such charges couldn’t possibly result in anything grave, I was cheerfully walking towards the courtroom, escorted by two guards on each side, to hear my sentencing.

  “Defendant Ernst Kaltenbrunner, in the view of your membership in the banned Nazi Party, and to prevent your highly criminal antigovernment activity due to your membership in the illegal SS, you are being sentenced to six months of hard labor in the concentration camp Kaisersteinbruch.”

  The judge banged his gavel, making me bli
nk with the most genuine astonishment.

  “What?!” I yelped in indignation and yanked my arm out of the guard’s hand. “You can’t do that! I’m a lawyer myself, and I know my rights! To prevent my activities?! You can’t sentence me for a crime I haven’t committed yet!”

  “You keep talking like that to me, and I’ll sentence you to six more months for being in contempt of court, Dr. Kaltenbrunner.” The judge squinted his eyes while pointing his gavel at me.

  “But with all the respect, there’s no such law, Your Honor!” I protested again, while two guards were trying to cuff my hands.

  “There is now. Next time you’ll think better before joining the wrong Party, young man. Get him out!”

  Yes, there is no way to get out of this now. Just like Hitler was doing in Germany, just like Mussolini was doing in Italy, Dollfuss was making his own laws and executing them the way he wanted. My thoughts were like poison, sitting in that damn freezing cell, still wearing my wedding suit and smirking at my father’s words. You’ll end up on the gallows with your Party one day, you’ll see! Well, not the gallows, but six months of hard labor in the granite quarries could hardly be called a vacation.

  They transported us to KZ Kaisersteinbruch the following day, and after processing us upon arrival and assigning us to our barracks – they weren’t smart enough to separate us, the SS, and just stuffed us all into the four least crowded ones – our new guards sent us to the quarries right that instant. Of course, who would want to lose a working day, when you were just handed several hundred of strong, healthy men, who you can work to death for free. I mumbled a curse under my breath and rolled my sleeves up. It had been almost ten years since I quit my night shifts at the coal mine, and I had honestly hoped that my days of hard physical labor were over. But it seemed like my own government had other plans on this account.