With most of her adult life spent either under Nazi rule, in Allied prison camps or US jails, her insatiable desire for fame was supplanted by the desire to live out her life in peaceful obscurity. Always seeking to avoid the inevitable, unanswerable questions about her personal racial and political beliefs, Mildred Gillars kept her views to herself. Axis Sally was on the run long after leaving prison. Nevertheless, close friends like Robert Boyer, as well as acquaintances such as Jim Dury, eventually posed the most difficult question: How could she and her German friends and colleagues not have known what was happening to the Jews? Thousands of Berlin’s men, women and children were rounded up and transported to the East during the eleven years she lived there. Her paramour, a Foreign Office official welcomed as Ribbentrop’s guest to the Wolfsschanze, had to be aware of the rumors that came back from Poland and the Reich’s other occupied territories. It was that question, always answered with an insistent and final “we just didn’t know,” that would always keep Mildred Gillars at an uncomfortable distance from her fellow Americans.
She left America for Europe in 1934 when isolationism was still in vogue, and repeated those beliefs in her broadcasts as an employee of Berlin Radio. By the late 1930s, isolationist policy was challenged by FDR’s desire to take action against the Fascist dictatorships; but Mildred had been away too long to sense the changing temper of the times in the United States. Unaware of the signal change in American public opinion after Hitler’s broken agreements, and disinterested in politics, she became the mouthpiece for the beliefs of a man she admired, respected and loved. When the worm turned on December 7, 1941, there was no going back.
Axis Sally believed that she could love America and still do her job for Reichsradio. It was that belief that went to the question of intent, and played a central role in the jury’s decision to convict her on only one count: participation in Vision of Invasion. The only charge that specifically accused her of directly subverting the war aims of the United States, it was at the same time the work of an actress who neither wrote nor edited the material. The rest of the Justice Department’s charges—the interviews with prisoners of war, the medical reports on wounded soldiers, et al.—could be construed as the actions of a woman behind enemy lines doing what she could do to help imprisoned American servicemen. It was Vision of Invasion—an overacted, overwrought, barely audible radio play—that tipped the scales toward treason. Clearly, its only aim was to sow doubt and despair among soldiers slated to fight and die on the beaches of France.
Mildred’s inability to admit her own errors of judgment, her stubborn insistence on remaining in the limelight, and her enthusiastic parroting of the Nazi propaganda line long after Germany’s defeat, were all factors that led to her tragic end. Long after it was clear that the Nazi experiment led only to war and starvation, Mildred still could enthusiastically lecture newsmen on the “correctness” of Hitler’s ideas regarding Communism, and tell her CIC interrogators that the war for her was against England and the International Jewry (“I just couldn’t get the Jews out of my mind…”, she claimed in one memorable statement). She accepted the Nazi worldview, believed her own propaganda, and paid a heavy price for that delusion.
APPENDIX I
Suicide Note to the Camden Evening Courier
Following is the supposed suicide note that “Barbara Elliott” (a.k.a. Mildred Gillars) sent to the Evening Courier in Camden, NJ. Gillars’ performance as a love-struck, abandoned mother was the first to gain her notoriety, but by no means the last.
To Whom It May Concern,
It is more than humanly possible to continue any longer this bitter agony of bringing into this poor, deluded world another unwelcome child. The few who may give my sorry act any thought at all will probably think only in a conventional way, saying, ‘What a weak thing she must have been.’ Who will ever have the perception to realize that I am taking this step because I have an intelligence and soul that are sensitized to the nth degree?
What have all our great reformers and philosophers ever done to bring serene harmony to the universe? Nothing. We cringe with horror when we contemplate ruthless destruction – wars and murders. We wish stupidly for human peace but make no effort to achieve it. If it were actually possible to estimate the percentage of really welcome children, what would it be? Good God – probably not more than one percent. And yet I am supposed to bring this poor soul into what Milton called ‘a vale of woe.’
Ah, my dear, dear Charles, if you ever hear of my fate – remember that there was nothing else left for me. I know so bitterly the awful loneliness of a child’s life without parental love. I have visualized completely the arrival of this baby of ours. I have seen myself watching through the years. I know the agony I would suffer each time I would catch that wistful gleam in his eye when he saw another child happy in his father’s love.
It would be a constant misery to see that look in his eyes. All the dreams I have ever had would come back to my heart and stay there like ghosts. I would remember the plans I had cherished of a mate, such as I thought you would be – of dear, delicate souls that I would create and then understand. Create them because I wanted them – because they were welcome.
Tonight in the dining room they played Schubert’s famous Serenade and I remembered the times when I had played it for you. My heart was so heavy. You know, my dear one that the only creed I have is to fill life completely with beauty – never to do an unlovely thing – that is the only sin in life. If only people could see that. Isn’t it strange that life is full of so many ugly impulses for most people?
My darling – life could only hold for me now, an aching, dull bewilderment. You were my absolute complement. I should never get over it, and it would hang like a shadow over my child.
I am leaving, dear soul, on an adventure far greater than your days in the heart of the Orient. I wish I could make a plea to the poor, unseeing people of this world to give and receive only loveliness. The ultimate end comes so swiftly. I want everyone to try to understand my last human act. Perhaps I am the only person in the world’s history to have died for beauty in its most comprehensive meaning.
It is the greatest maternal tenderness I can bestow upon my dear child that I end my life with his that he may not be numbered among the host of unwelcome children.
Barbara Elliott
(Source: The Evening Courier, Camden NJ, October 19, 1928, p. 28)
APPENDIX II
Selected Transcripts of Axis Sally Broadcasts
MIDGE AT THE MIKE
May 1943
This is Berlin calling. Berlin calling the American mothers, wives and sweethearts. And I’d just like to say, girls, that when Berlin calls it pays to listen. When Berlin calls it pays to listen in because there is an American girl sitting at the microphone every Tuesday evening at the same time with a few words of truth to her countrywomen back home. Girls, you all know, of course, by now that it’s a very serious situation and there must be some reason for my being here in Berlin, some reason why I’m not sitting at home with you at the little sewing bees knitting socks for our men in French North Africa.
Yes, girls, there is a reason and it is this: it’s because I am not on the side of Roosevelt and his Jewish friends and his British friends; because I’ve been brought up to be a 100 per cent American girl: conscious of everything American, conscious of her friends, conscious of her enemies. And the enemies are precisely those people who are fighting against Germany today and in case you don’t know it, indirectly against America too, because a defeat for Germany would mean a defeat for America. Believe me, it would be the very beginning of the end of America and all of her civilization and that’s why girls, I’m staying over here and having these little heart-to-heart talks with you once a week. I know they’re awfully short and there’s not much one can say, but at least I’m so convinced that it’s the truth and I’m sure the truth will win. And besides that, you know I’m in constant touch with your men over here interned in Germany as priso
ners of war and I’m sure you’ll be very happy to get some news of them from time to time. And I’ll do my best to transmit that to you just as often as I can.
And now girls, just last week in speaking to one American boy, he told us then about the films which he had seen in America - films which dealt with the barbarism of Germany, and of the treatment which she deals out to American prisoners and all of that sort of thing. He said he realizes today that that’s only Jewish propaganda, that whereas he was told at home, before donning the American uniform, that he would be beaten and knocked around by the Germans if he ever got into a prisoner of war camp. That has not been the case. He’s never been beaten. He’s only had the most ideal treatment, and even said ‘I can only say to you that I’m happy here in this German prisoner-of-war camp’ and receives just the same treatment that the Germans also receive, and said, ‘well, that was just Jewish propaganda. I realize it now. I did not realize it when I was at home, but I’d just like to say that today I have my own opinion.’ Well, girls, and one day you’re going to have your own opinion too. The only thing I’m afraid of is that perhaps it will be too late. And that’s why I’m just going to put all the energy I can into these few moments I have with you each week and try to get you to see the light of day and to let you realize that you’re on the wrong side of the fence.”
Gee, girls, isn’t it a darn shame; all the sweet old American summer atmosphere which the boys are missing now. Just imagine sitting out on the old back porch in a sweet old rocking chair listening to the birds at twilight. Instead of that, the boys are over there in the hot, sunny desert longing for home and for what? Fighting for our friends? Well, well, well, since when are the British our friends? Now, girls, come on, be honest. As one American to another, do you love the British? Why, of course the answer is ‘no’. Do the British love us? Well, I should say not! But we are fighting for them. We are shedding our good young blood for this ‘kike’ war, for this British war. Oh, girls, why don’t you wake up? I mean, after all, the women can do something, can’t they? Have you tried to realize where the situation’s leading us to? Because it is the downfall of civilization if it goes on like that. After all, let God save the King. If he’s worthy of it, I’m sure God can. At least there’s no reason for we Americans to get mixed up in British messes.
Well, girls, you can put American uniforms on our boys; you can put a rifle in their hands; you can send them across with orders to destroy Germany; to bombard the women and children; to fight side by side with the British soldiers and, as the old homily adage goes, ‘You can bring a horse to water but you can’t make it drink.’ And you can force the American soldiers to fight side by side with the British soldiers, but you can never bring understanding between the Americans and the British. Thank God, and I hope it never will happen. But I don’t have to hope because it never will. But the basis for a healthy, sane friendship and understanding always has been and always will be there between Germany and America, and that’s the thing I’m going to fight for. And I say, damn Roosevelt, damn Churchill and damn all of their Jews who have made this war possible. And I as an American girl will stay over here on this side of the fence, on Germany’s side because it is the right side, as I’ve told you many, many times before.”
(Source: Appellate Brief, United States v. Mildred E. Gillars (Sisk), December 1949, US Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia, Washington DC: National Archives)
HOME SWEET HOME
June 24, 1943
(Mildred Gillars as MIDGE, Frederick W. Kaltenbach as FRED, Max Otto Koischwitz as FRITZ)
MIDGE: I never let myself get roped into Mr. Churchill and Mr. Roosevelt’s war business. We Americans don’t have to bother about it. Well, folks, because life is really so sad and I’d like to cheer you up a little bit, because I’m pretty sure you’re down in the dumps over there. Well, we’re going to have a half and hour of nonsense, just as silly as can be, because the sillier the better. Don’t you think so, kids…?
FRED: Well, I see you here at the microphone.
FRITZ: And listen to you.
FRED: It’s really touching the way you entertain those boys in Africa
MIDGE: Ah, sweet of you, Fred.
FRED: Well, there’s so much feeling in what you say, and in how you say it. Sometimes it makes a man’s heart…
MIDGE: Yes, I know and I feel it myself. I’m sure the boys in Africa would like to express their appreciation if there only was a way to show it to you.
FRITZ: Yes, how those boys would like to touch you?
MIDGE: I beg your pardon.
FRITZ: I mean, just as you’re touching them.
MIDGE: Oh, that’s just fine.
FRITZ: You see, they can hear you, but you can’t hear them, and yet you’ve got so many admirers among them.
MIDGE: Really, how do you know?
FRITZ: I happen to know, because well, you know, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the boys have actually fallen in love with you… I mean with your voice. As I was just saying, I’ve proof of it right here in my pocket. One of the boys actually managed to get a kind of fan letter from Africa to Berlin for you.
MIDGE: No, Fritz.
FRITZ: And mailed from Africa, just imagine from the A.E.F…. It reached its destination finally. You see, the true admirer, the lover, always finds ways and means to get a letter to the girls in wartime through all the offices of military censors
MIDGE: Let me see the letter.
FRITZ: Of course. Now don’t get impassionate. I mean impatient.
MIDGE: Well, now, listen Fritz, the letter was meant for me.
FRITZ: Well, there weren’t any secrets in it. You see, he couldn’t write any secrets in letters that have to pass now in wartime.
MIDGE: Well, I’m so excited.
FRITZ: A sort of open letter. This admirer of yours who wrote it sent the letter to an American newspaper, see. And the editor of that paper printed it. And then the newspaper was sent to Portugal by clipper. And someone in Lisbon picked it up and forwarded it to this station. That’s the way I got hold of it…. I told you there wasn’t any secret in it. But wait till you hear it.
FRED: You couldn’t read it right now, it’s much too long.
MIDGE: Oh, do tell me what it says, I’m very curious.
FRITZ: No, no, well, it says the boys like your voice.
MIDGE: How sweet of them.
FRITZ: It’s sounds to them like the girl next door, just like back home in the States. And it makes them feel kind of homesick.
MIDGE: Oh, gee, the poor kids.
FRITZ: But they enjoy it so much. And they’d like to know your name.
MIDGE: Oh, I see. What difference would that make? You know, Shakespeare once said: ‘A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet’, remember? I’m not calling myself a rose…
FRED: But if the boys were able to see you. If they could see you, I know you’d be the biggest success on the air.
MIDGE: Well, thanks for the compliment, Fred.
FRED: I don’t want anything. I know it’s a fact.
FRITZ: Yes, our Midge at the mike is the most charming girl that ever sat to a microphone.
FRED: Yes, I know. Would you like to know what she looks like?
FRITZ: Too charming for words.
MIDGE: Oh, now, Fritz, really I’m getting embarrassed.
FRITZ: We’re telling the truth. Now listen, boys. I’ll give you a description of what my eyes see in front of me, right here - a word picture of your announcer. Full of good looks, if that’s possible – you see with your ears. Charm, prettiness, attractiveness: Midge at the mike. I told you boys. Midge at the mike presents a sort of charm. And the figure: very slender, in fact.
MIDGE: Now, Fritz, listen. You know you asked my permission to say something over the mike tonight, but if you’re going to talk about me all the time.
FRITZ: But I really do think the boys ought to know something about you. Now, listen boys, I’ll be perfectly objective.
I’ll give you a description of your girl in our service, a description that sounds like a passport: Color of hair, color of eyes, size, weight, place of birth.
MIDGE: And no birthmark? Well, I think we’d better let those go.
FRED: What else is on a passport?
MIDGE: Well, something about age. You’d leave that out, wouldn’t you?
FRITZ: Well, with that schoolgirl complexion you couldn’t conceal the recent date of your birth anyway.
FRED: With the compliments of Palmolive soap.
MIDGE: No, I’m not keeping anything back on you, Fritz. Well, you know, I think you’ve been drinking whiskey, or gin or something.
FRITZ: Honest, Midge, I haven’t been drinking for ages. There just isn’t enough to drink now to get inspiration. You know that as well as I. Inspiration comes from your presence.
MIDGE: Oh, drink to me only with thine eyes!
MIDGE AT THE MIKE
July 27, 1943
“Good evening, women of America. This is Midge speaking. As you know, as time goes on, I think of you more and more. I can’t seem to get you out of my head, you women in America, waiting for the one you love, waiting and weeping in the secrecy of your own room, thinking of the husband, son or brother who is being sacrificed by Franklin D. Roosevelt – perishing on the fringes of Europe.
Axis Sally: The American Voice of Nazi Germany Page 29