Liebehenschel walked back around to face Kolb. “Why should I give this Jew my word? Tell me one good reason why I should waste my time on that prisoner?”
Kolb could smell the coffee on Liebehenschel’s breath. “Herr Obersturmbannfuhrer, I would say that it was in the interest of justice that every opportunity for proving my innocence should be afforded to me.”
Liebehenschel’s voice dropped to a whisper once again. “Have I not done that already, Kolb? Have I not already agreed to this unusual arrangement?”
“Yes sir, of course sir. And I thought that the matter was concluded, thanks to your accommodation in this matter. However, unfortunately, Meyer, the Jew in question, does not entirely trust my word and this is the reason that I have had to disturb you further.”
“What do you suggest, Kolb? That I allow a Jew to come into my office and for me, the Camp Commandant, to give my word directly to him?” sneered Liebehenschel.
Kolb felt his grasp on Meyer slipping away. If he did not play this right then Liebehenschel would not speak to Meyer and Meyer may not continue to provide his much needed advice.
“Herr Obersturmbannfuhrer, I genuinely do not know what to say. I have asked Meyer to assist in this, sir, because in spite of being a Jew, he was a talented lawyer. I am innocent of this crime and I believe that he may be the only person that will be able to unravel what actually happened to Sturmbannfuhrer Straus.”
In reality, Liebehenschel had become extremely curious about Meyer. He wanted to know what it was about this particular Jew which had made Kolb feel that he was indispensable to his defence. Liebehenschel was convinced that Kolb would be found guilty and shot by the Gestapo. So did it really matter if a prisoner was given access to his family one last time before Liebehenschelhad them sent to the gas chamber?
“Alright, Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb. I will see this Meyer. Do you have him report to you after his work party duties?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“I will see him in my office at nine tomorrow evening. Have Scharfuhrer Fuchs bring him over. Nine o’clock exactly, Kolb,” said Liebehenschel.
Kolb felt a weight drop from his shoulders. “Yes, Herr Obersturmbannfuhrer, nine exactly.”
Liebehenschel called for the adjutant. He turned to leave as the door behind him was unlocked and opened. “I hope you don’t have any personal feelings for your Jew. Once he has served you and, since I will be giving my word, met his family, he will be sent to the gas chamber.”
“Yes, sir,” said Kolb. Once Liebehenschel had left, Kolb sat back down on the hard cell bed and felt tears well up in his eyes.
“I have good news,” said Kolb, “The Commandant came to see me last night. After we are done tonight, Scharfuhrer Fuchs shall take you over to his office before returning you to your hut.”
Meyer was overjoyed. He could not believe that after all this time he would be seeing both his girls and his wife. He wondered how he looked. He would want to look his best. Meyer made the decision that he would ask Geller and Rosenmann to make sure he looked as healthy as possible for the meeting. He might only be allowed an hour with them, and he wanted them to remember him as close to what he was before they came to the camp as possible.
Fuchs opened his folder, disturbing Meyer’s thoughts, and turned over the paper where he had scribbled down the questions from the night before. On the other side, he had rewritten them with some answers.
“I have managed to answer these questions about Straus' assistant, Ritter, to one extent or another,” said Fuchs. “I went to Ritter’s barrack room last night and put the questions you wanted answered to him directly.”
“How did he seem?” asked Meyer.
“In what way?”
“Was he defensive, or did he appear to begrudge answering the questions of the officer representing Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb?”
Fuchs shrugged. “He wasn’t particularly defensive or reluctant in his answers. If anything, he seemed a bit annoyed at having to answer them.”
“Annoyed?” asked Meyer.
“He said he had already answered a list of questions earlier from another Gestapo officer,” replied Fuchs.
“Yes, of course,” said Meyer. “The prosecution. Please go on.”
“First,” continued Fuchs, “was Ritter on duty the night Straus was killed? Yes. He had been told to finish early that night by Straus but had needed to catch up on some paperwork and didn’t leave his office until around seven.”
Meyer sat up in his chair. “So, he could have still been in his office at the time of the murder. Perhaps it was Ritter’s office door you saw opening that night...”
“Untersturmfuhrer Ritter to you, Jew,” interrupted Fuchs. “Do not forget your place in this situation.”
Meyer was taken aback. They were using his experience and abilities as a lawyer and yet he was still treated as Untermensch. “My apologies. It may have been Untersturmfuhrer Ritter’s office door opening that Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb saw, or perhaps it was Untersturmfuhrer Ritter leaving Sturmbannfuhrer Straus’ office after murdering him.
“Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb, why was it so difficult to determine which office door had opened that night?”
Kolb answered as if it was obvious. “There was a heavy fog. There must have been a cold front from the east; remember, there was freezing fog that night and heavy snow the next day.”
Something flickered in Meyer’s mind. The fog and the snow, there was something he was missing here. Something that was out of place.
Fuchs took Meyer’s momentary silence to continue with his answers. “Second, when did Ritter come to Auschwitz? July, nineteen-forty-three. He was at Dachau and then Ravensbruck, acting in the same capacity as here.”
Meyer felt a familiar chill of fear. Ritter was acting in the same capacity in these two other places. Surely that did not mean that they were the same as here. “What are Dachau and Ravensbruck?” he asked in trepidation.
“Concentration camps in Germany,” replied Fuchs.
Meyer felt his shoulders sink. He had not even thought that there would be more places like this. And here were another two. How many people were being killed? How many were dying every day in these camps? Meyer felt his stomach turn over. The whole world seemed to have become hell.
“Third,” continued Fuchs. “What kind of man was Sturmbannfuhrer Straus? I spoke to Ritter and some of the others in his barrack rooms. He was friendly but kept himself to himself. Straus had his own room and did not socialise very much with the others in his building.”
Fuchs then turned to Kolb, obviously unsure if what he was about to say should be shared with Meyer, and ran his fingers along a line of writing, which Kolb then read. Kolb nodded to Fuchs, giving his unspoken permission.
“Some of those in his building suggested that Straus may have not had the same interest in the female officers in the camp as the rest of the men in his barrack building,” said Fuchs.
Meyer raised his eyebrows at this information. “Are you saying that Sturmbannfuhrer Straus was homosexual?”
Kolb put his hand on Fuchs’ shoulder. “Heinrich, there are a few things which I need to explain to Meyer. Why don’t you stretch your legs for five minutes?”
Meyer could see that Fuchs was irritated by Kolb’s request. Fuchs pulled out a packet of cigarettes and shouted to the adjutant to open the door. Once he was gone Kolb leaned over the table to Meyer.
“There are some things which you need to know to help you formulate a resolution to my case,” he said.
“Are you going to tell me that you are guilty of Straus’ murder just like you are guilty of Pfeiffer’s?” said Meyer.
“I can understand that you are finding it difficult to imagine my innocence in this case now that you know that I killed Josef Pfeiffer, but you have my word that I did not murder Straus. To prove it, I need to tell you why I was going to see Straus that night,” replied Kolb.
Meyer ignored what Kolb was saying. He needed to understand the P
feiffer case. He had filed it away in his head and brought it out when he needed to use the experience in other cases. But now he was not sure how much of the case he had understood at all.
“Why did you kill Pfeiffer?” asked Meyer.
“Meyer, that isn’t important,” replied Kolb.
“You said that I could ask you a question on the Pfeiffer case each time we met,” said Meyer.
Kolb sighed. “Okay, Meyer, if I answer your question can we move on with the problem at hand?” Kolb did not wait for an answer. “Josef Pfeiffer was a bully, just like his father. It didn’t matter what I did, my work was never good enough. They would gang up on me, say I was too slow, that customers were complaining about my work, but I knew I was a better upholsterer than either of them.”
“And that is why you killed him? Because he was bullying you?” asked Meyer.
“No...yes. It was complicated. That was part of it; over the years it built up. I wanted to be part of the family, be part of the company. I wanted the respect I was due. So I started to court Kristin, Josef’s sister. He was furious when we started to meet. She was very pretty but, how can I put this? Not the most intelligent woman I have ever met. And extremely vain. In truth, I couldn’t bear to be near her, and as time went on it became less my attempt to become part of that family and more my enjoyment of how it upset both Josef senior and Josef junior.
“The night before I killed Josef, Kristin decided that she was going to give herself to me. Who can tell what goes through a woman’s head? Who can determine why or when a woman decides to give herself to someone?
“Anyway, it was an awkward situation and let’s just say that I found it difficult to perform. The next day, Josef had a grin on his face all the time we were working. He kept making references to the firmness of the upholstery or the flaccid nature of the fabric. I didn’t pick up on it straight away. It was only while we were having a beer that he started to directly insult me, calling into question my masculinity, calling me a queer, making disgusting comments. That was why we left the beer hall, and then, even as we crossed the street all the way back to the workshop, he kept on. He started laughing at me. Laughing and laughing and I couldn’t take his bullying anymore, and before I knew it I had picked up the closest thing to me and driven it through his chest.”
Kolb sat back in his chair. “So that is why I killed him. It was in anger. A moment of exasperation, of resentment and temper. Nothing more than that.”
Meyer let Kolb’s confession sink in. “What about the murder weapon? Where did it go? That was what our whole case rested on.”
Kolb began to laugh. “No more questions, Meyer. One question on the Pfeiffer case each time we meet. That is the agreement.”
Meyer knew it was Kolb trying to keep control of the situation, allowing out a piece of information at a time, but it was an illusion. As soon as Meyer had agreed to help Kolb, Kolb had lost control. He needed Meyer, and Meyer was certain that Kolb had had to pull some strings to have a Jew involved in the case. Meyer would allow Kolb and his associates to think that they were controlling this situation, but Kolb's life was in Meyer's hands, and by the time of the court martial, Meyer's words would be considered gospel. “Okay, let’s go back to your current case. What do I need to know that you can’t say in front of Fuchs?”
“Fuchs was correct in his research on Straus. He was a homosexual. It may have been suspected by those who knew him, but I knew for certain. He had made advances to me. It was disgusting. But I saw an opportunity. An opportunity to make some money.”
“You were blackmailing Straus?” asked Meyer.
“A homosexual is a dangerous thing to be in Auschwitz. We gas queers in Auschwitz. Whenever I was short of money, I would pay Straus a visit. He was very accommodating,” replied Kolb.
The door opened behind Meyer and Fuchs returned to the table. “Have you given Meyer the information that you wanted to?” he asked Kolb, the sarcastic tone obvious in his words.
“Heinrich,” started Kolb, but was interrupted by Fuchs.
“I also have something that Meyer should know about your case. Ritter let something slip as I was talking to him last night,” he said, taking his seat again.
Both Meyer and Kolb looked at Fuchs as a smile crossed his face. “Ritter had put in for a transfer and had been refused by Straus. It could be the motive you are looking for.”
Meyer thought about this. Fuchs was right, this could be the motive. Kolb certainly did not seem to have a motive; it was in his interest that Straus was alive since he had supplemented his income from him.
“Scharfuhrer Fuchs, did we get any witness statements?” asked Meyer.
“I requested them from Hauptsturmfuhrer Kramer this morning, but they will not be available to me until tomorrow,” replied Fuchs.
“Okay,” said Meyer. “We need to go through everyone’s movements again, adding in the information that Scharfuhrer Fuchs has provided since yesterday.
“Sturmbannfuhrer Straus was working in his office until around seven o’clock. Untersturmfuhrer Ritter was also in his office until either just before or just after Sturmbannfuhrer Straus’ death. Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb sees either Sturmbannfuhrer Straus’ or Untersturmfuhrer Ritter’s office door open and close, but it was difficult to determine due to the fog.
“Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb enters Sturmbannfuhrer Straus’ office and finds him already shot dead. His pistol is on the floor in front of him. Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb picks up the gun and it accidentally discharges. This shot is heard by the perimeter guards and they arrive on the scene.”
Meyer rubbed his eyes. He had found what did not fit. He deliberated on whether he should share it with the two SS or if he should keep this for himself for the time being. In the end, he decided that perhaps having Kolb and Fuchs work on this problem as well as himself may bring an answer.
“The two perimeter guards hear the accidental discharge of the Luger. This should be the second shot, since, according to Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb, Sturmbannfuhrer Straus was already dead with a gunshot wound. So why did no one hear the first shot?”
Fuchs and Kolb looked at each other. “I don’t know,” said Kolb.
Fuchs walked through the snow with Meyer to the main block, where Liebehenschel’s office was situated. Meyer shivered after the relative warmth of Kolb’s cell. He had made sure that they left well before nine o’clock as he did not want to miss the meeting with Liebehenschel under any circumstances.
“Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb really believes that you can save him from the firing squad,” said Fuchs, as they made their way across the courtyard.
“Yes, Scharfuhrer Fuchs,” replied Meyer.
“He is under the impression that you will find the truth of what happened to Straus that night,” continued Fuchs. “Do you think you can do that?”
“I am not certain, Scharfuhrer Fuchs,” said Meyer, pulling his arms into his ribs in a desperate attempt to hold the heat in his body.
“What are you certain about, Meyer?” asked Fuchs.
They were halfway across the courtyard from the stockade to Liebehenschel’s office, and it felt like the icy wind was tearing through Meyer's skin like razor blades, but Meyer suddenly stopped walking and turned to Fuchs.
“I am certain that I love my family. And I am certain that I miss them dreadfully. I am certain that I will do anything to see them, even if that means making sure that Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb is found innocent whether he is guilty or not. Nothing else is certain, Scharfuhrer Fuchs. Nothing.” Meyer then turned and continued on the trek across the courtyard to Liebehenschel’s office.
The air was full of freezing moisture and a fog had started to descend again. Sometimes, the air itself seemed to freeze in Poland. Meyer had experienced bad winters in Germany, both in Leipzig as a boy and in Berlin with Klara and the girls, but nothing like this. Although he remembered one winter when it was so cold that when he took Anna and Greta to the park, he had had to put so many layers of clothing on them that the
y could not run, only waddle. He felt himself smile at the memory, but as soon as the cold air invaded his teeth a sharp pain shot across his jaw.
As they arrived at the door to the Commandant’s block, Fuchs took Meyer by the arm and turned him to face him. “Do you think Kolb killed Straus?” It was an honest question and Meyer could see that Fuchs needed an honest answer. Meyer could also see that Fuchs was in Kolb’s shadow, not just because of his rank but because of Kolb’s intelligence and his strength of character. Meyer realised now that Fuchs' Jewish insults and the requirement to keep the protocols between prisoner and guard had no more substance than the wind which howled across the camp.
Meyer looked at Fuchs. It was like looking into a boy’s face; the chill made his lips quiver and his eyes watered in the piercing frost. Then a snowflake, torn from its resting place by a frigid gust, caught Meyer’s gaze; it floated across his vision and landed on Fuchs’ collar, just above the SS runes.
It had been an honest question but Meyer was not sure if Fuchs deserved an honest answer. “Do I think that Kolb killed Straus?” said Meyer, not using the men’s ranks, in imitation of Fuchs’ phrasing. He wanted to see if Fuchs reacted.
When he said nothing, Meyer gave him an answer. “There was no first gunshot heard.”
“Come!” came the call from inside Liebehenschel’s office.
Fuchs leaned past Meyer and pulled open the door. “Herr Obersturmbannfuhrer, it’s Scharfuhrer Fuchs. Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb asked me to bring over prisoner Meyer.”
“Thank you, Fuchs. Bring the prisoner in,” replied Liebehenschel, without looking up from his paperwork.
Fuchs and Meyer walked into the Commandant's office. Liebehenschel finished making some notes on a piece of paper then looked up at the two men. “Thank you, Scharfuhrer, please wait outside, if you don’t mind.” Fuchs saluted and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Liebehenschel placed his pen back in its holder and leaned back in his chair. He looked at the man who stood in front of him. Liebehenschel rarely got this close to the prisoners. It was difficult for him to believe that the man stood in front of him had been a well-respected lawyer in Berlin before the war. His appearance was certainly in stark contrast to how Liebehenschel imagined a well-paid Jewish lawyer would have looked in the thirties. His striped prison uniform was ragged and there were layers of makeshift clothing underneath. Liebehenschel was not sure if it was just the fact that Meyer had just come in from the freezing cold outside, but there seemed to be a lack of colour about him; his hair, his clothes, even his skin was grey.
A Murder in Auschwitz Page 24