Hanns and Rudolf

by Thomas Harding

  At last one of the girls broke. She confessed that they had indeed given Hanns old information, and that Gustav Henning was now living with another relative, named Alvis Scheideler, at 11 Eschenlohe Strasse in Plettenberg, Westphalia, some seventy miles north of the Marburg prison.

  Sensing that he was at last getting somewhere, Hanns drove to Plettenberg and, with the support of soldiers from the Belgian 3rd Infantry Brigade, searched Scheideler’s home. But the son was not there. Turning to Scheideler, Hanns asked if the boy was living at her house. She told him that he had recently moved. Furious, Hanns asked for Gustav Adolf’s current address, little expecting it to be offered. In this he was surprised, for Scheideler told Hanns that she was sure that Gustav Simon’s son was now living at number 38 Dingeringhauser Weg, just around the corner.

  Still fearful that this was yet another red herring, Hanns hurried over to Dingeringhauser Weg with the Belgian soldiers following close behind. Once at the property—a detached building in a side street, away from the town center—he met the landlady, who confirmed not only that the boy was registered as a resident of her building, but that he was upstairs in his room.

  With Hanns and the soldiers waiting behind her in the corridor, the landlady knocked on the door, swung it open and pointed inside at a surprised and surly-looking young man in traveling clothes. Hanns marched in, announced that he was a British war crimes investigator, and asked for the boy’s name and identification documents. The young man reluctantly acknowledged that he was indeed Gustav Adolf Simon, the son of Gustav Simon.

  A quick check of the room unearthed a British Ordnance map of Hanover, but no weapons were found. Hanns then asked Gustav Adolf about his activities since the end of the war, to which the boy replied that he had been working and had had nothing to do with politics. Exasperated by the boy’s recalcitrance, Hanns said that the police had found a bag that had been dumped in a nearby woods containing literature from the Werwolf resistance movement and that it had included his identity papers. Caught out in the lie, the young man kept silent. Detecting an advantage, Hanns pressed him for his father’s location, but, as if repeating a line that he had been taught, the young man said that his father hadn’t visited Plettenberg and that he hadn’t seen him since Easter Sunday. Furthermore, he had no idea as to his father’s current whereabouts or identity. Hanns arrested the boy for possessing the map, and asked the Belgian unit to deposit him in the town’s prison.

  A short while later, Hanns returned to the house of Alvis Scheideler, the most helpful person he had found thus far. He was in luck. Not only had she seen Gustav Simon, but she had a vague sense of where he was staying, where he worked and what he was wearing. The Gauleiter had recently booked in at both the Harpe and Hoppes hotels in Plettenberg, she told Hanns, and he was now working as a gardener for a nearby kindergarten. She thought that he was using the name “Volter” or “Hofler,” and he had changed his appearance. The man Hanns was looking for now had gray hair, he had grown a mustache and he was wearing glasses.

  It was late evening when Hanns, accompanied by Scheideler, arrived at the Harpe Hotel. Handing the receptionist at the desk a few marks, Hanns asked if he could see the register. The man pulled a leather-bound book from under the counter and passed it to Hanns, who flipped it open, tracing his finger down the recent entries, of which two caught his eye.

  – 14.9.45. Hans Woffler, born 26.9.00, born and domiciled in Frankfurt, left hotel 15.9.45.

  – 13.11.45. Hans Woffler, born 26.9.00, proper address Steinbeck, Schusterstrasse 1, identity card A13882, left hotel 16.11.45.

  Here, just maybe, was proof, contrary to the boy’s claims, that Gustav Simon had visited Plettenberg four weeks earlier. The name was not exactly the same as the one Alvis Scheideler had given him, but it was close.

  After writing the information in his notebook and thanking the man at the desk, Hanns and Scheideler walked around the corner to the Hoppes Hotel, and again asked to see the register. Here too he found useful information:

  – 12.11.45. Heinrich Woffler, born 26.9.00, born at Frankfurt, domiciled in Einbeck, identification number A13882, left hotel 13.11.45.

  The next day, Hanns visited Gustav Adolf at the Plettenberg prison. Confronted with Hanns’s fury, the fourteen-year-old soon buckled, acknowledging that his father had indeed been working as a gardener in the British Zone, and that he had recently seen him in Plettenberg. Hanns was one step closer.

  Now that he had confirmation that Scheideler was telling the truth, Hanns took a closer look at the hotel register. He saw a pattern. Two guests had used the same last name, Woffler, with two separate addresses listed: “Steinbeck” and “Einbeck.” Hanns had never heard of a town named Steinbeck, and speculated that the similarity was not a coincidence; perhaps, he thought to himself, “Woffler” was living in Einbeck.

  Leaving before dawn, on December 10, 1945, Hanns made his way to Einbeck, one hundred miles due south of Belsen. Heading straight for the police station, Hanns was informed that they had no record of a “Hans Woffler” or a “Heinrich Woffler.” Back outside on the street, Hanns glanced at his notes and on little more than a whim decided to visit the only street address listed in either of the hotels’ registers. A few minutes later, he was standing outside 1 Schusterstrasse, looking at the list of residents next to the door. To his delight, there at the top was the name of Hans Woffler.

  After he pressed the bell, Frau Blumenberg, the elderly homeowner, came to the door. The woman recognized Simon from Hanns’s photograph, but said that he hadn’t lived at the house for two months. Hanns was not to be deterred. Sensing he had finally caught up with the Gauleiter of Luxembourg, he asked for the man’s name. He called himself “Hans Woffler,” she said, and as far as she knew, he was working as a gardener in a nursery just outside of Paderborn, seventy miles west of Einbeck, halfway between Hamburg and Frankfurt.

  Hanns made for Paderborn town hall. There, a city official informed him that a “Hans Woffler” had indeed recently registered with them, and that he was living with a Frau Berhorst, in Upsprunge, a town fifteen miles to the south of Paderborn.

  At eleven o’clock that night, Hanns and a few men from the Paderborn police gathered outside a house on a quiet street in Upsprunge. After a quick conversation about tactics—who was to go in first, what would they do if they were met with resistance—one of the men kicked down the door and, on an agreed signal, the group barged in.

  The elderly-looking man inside appeared shocked as the soldiers entered the house. He shrank back from the officials, trembling and very nervous. Hanns would not have recognized the Gauleiter if he had walked past him in the street. The man before him bore little similarity to the pictures Hanns had been given by Judge Hammes. Unlike the man in the photographs, whose cheeks had been fat with wealth and power, this man looked gaunt after his six months on the run. His hair was long and gray; his face was weathered by the sun; and he wore spectacles and had grown a mustache. His clothes hung off his body as if they had been purchased for a larger man. But having been forewarned about his physical transformation by Frau Scheideler, Hanns was sure that here, at last, was Gustav Simon.

  While the policemen trained their pistols upon Simon, Hanns checked his mouth and ears for suicide pills. Satisfied that there was no immediate threat, he now demanded that Simon hand over his papers, which confirmed his supposed identity as Woffler. When Hanns questioned the authenticity of these documents, Simon maintained that “Woffler” was his real name. But the Gauleiter had made one mistake. After a brief search of the room, Hanns discovered a coat which bore Simon’s name and rank. Confronted with the evidence, Simon reluctantly confirmed his true identity.

  Hanns then asked a series of rapid-fire questions: Where had he been since the Americans occupied Luxembourg? Who had collaborated with him? When was the last time he had been in touch with the Nazi leaders Himmler, Pohl and Eichmann? The interrogation went nowhere, and beyond a few muttered generalities, the prisoner revealed no
thing.

  Hanns collected all of Simon’s possessions—clothing, books, writing materials—and had them taken to his car outside. He then paid any remaining rent that was due to the landlady, using money found in the prisoner’s wallet, and told her that she could keep the large stock of food that Simon had hoarded.

  Hanns steered the now handcuffed Simon to his vehicle outside, and drove him to Paderborn prison, where he was handed over to the warden. As he was leaving, he instructed the warden that the prisoner should be put on suicide watch and that he was not to be released to anybody but Hanns. After traveling more than fifteen hundred miles across the country in seventeen days, Hanns finally had his man.

  Hanns and his driver traveled through the night, arriving in Belsen early on the morning of December 11. Still not having slept, Hanns walked into the office of Lieutenant Colonel Tilling and announced that he had arrested Gustav Simon. Tilling was delighted. Given how cold the trail had become, he had thought it unlikely the Gauleiter would be caught, and he congratulated Hanns for his good work. When Hanns requested that he escort Simon to Luxembourg, Tilling said, “Sure. He’s your fish, you can fry him.”

  *

  Hanns’s transfer orders arrived from Group Captain Somerhough on December 18, eight days after the arrest: Captain Alexander was to go to Paderborn prison to meet Captain Léone Muller, a female member of the Luxembourg War Crimes Bureau, and pick up Simon; he was also to pick up Richard Hengst, the former mayor of Luxembourg who had run the country alongside the Gauleiter from 1940 to 1943. The two escorts were then to deposit the prisoners in Bonn’s jail, while ensuring that the warden follow the standard operational procedures, including mounting a twenty-four-hour suicide watch. The next day they should proceed to Luxembourg and hand over the two prisoners to the authorities. Somerhough ended his order with the warning: “As the hostility of the local population to Simon is very strong it will be advisable that the prisoners not be seen in the car or in the streets.”

  But things did not go as officially planned. Hanns’s field report described what happened next:

  SECRET

  Report of the Disposal of Gustav Simon and Richard Hengst

  Capt H. H. Alexander

  NO 1 War Crimes Investigation Team

  2 Jan 1946

  HOHNE (BELSEN) CAMP

  1. On 19 Dec 45, on instructions received from Judge Advocate General’s branch (War Crimes Section) I proceeded to Headquarters, British Army of the Rhine, accompanied by Richard HENGST, the former Mayor of Luxembourg-city. I was met at Headquarters by Captain (Miss) Muller of the Luxembourg War Crimes Bureau. We proceeded to Paderborn with the intention of collecting Gustav SIMON, but on arrival were informed by the [commanding officer] of Paderborn that SIMON had hung himself on the 18 Dec 45, whilst in the Paderborn Police Prison. This was the second attempt he had made to commit suicide. I was informed that the first attempt took place on 11 December when he attempted to cut one of his veins; however this attempt was discovered before it was successful. Before endeavouring to take his life on the 11 December, SIMON made a voluntary statement to the police officer guarding him admitting that he was in fact Gustav SIMON, Gauleiter of Luxembourg, and that the reason for making such a statement was to save his family from further trouble. This statement together with the police officer’s report is attached marked “A.” The original was handed over to the Luxembourg authorities and Exhibit A, attached, is a certified true copy of the original.

  2. I was informed that SIMON hung himself between 1145 hours and 1215 hours on 18 December 1945. A piece of rope made out of canvas covering on his bed was used and SIMON hung himself on the bed post of his double bunk bed. The piece of rope was handed to Miss Muller and taken back to Luxembourg. It was ascertained that the prison had taken all necessary precautions against any such attempt and his braces and boots, etc, had been removed. In addition, after the first attempt the guard was doubled.

  Now with a corpse instead of a prisoner, Hanns decided that he should still deliver the body “dead or alive.” He wrapped a blanket around the corpse, tied it up with string and then strapped it onto the luggage rack fixed to the back of the car. They then drove with the “stiff,” as Hanns called it, flopping up and down, all the way across Germany. They arrived at the border at two in the morning of December 20, where they handed the dead Gustav Simon, and the living Richard Hengst, to Victor Bodson, the Luxembourg justice minister, and Judge Hammes. After a brief retelling of the tumultuous day’s events, Hengst was dropped off at the city’s jail and Hanns was taken to a local hotel. The late Gauleiter spent the night in prison.

  The next day a press conference was held on the ground floor of the Ministry of Justice in the center of Luxembourg City. Standing before the cameras were Victor Bodson and Mr. Jos Thorn, the President of the Luxembourg War Crimes Commission, along with Captain Alexander and Captain Muller. The press were then invited to go to the prison building, where the corpse could be seen and photographed. Gustav Simon was still dressed in his prison clothes, but shorn of both mustache and glasses. His head was tipped back, exposing a stubbled neck that was still red and swollen.

  The Tageblatt—one of Luxembourg’s largest-selling newspapers—described what happened at this press conference.

  GAULEITER SIMON COMMITS SUICIDE IN PADERBORN

  The wild goose chase for the Gauleiter seemed like a novel or detective story, and attested to the skill of Captain Alexander’s group. It is a pity that the virtually tireless efforts of the English captain did not lead to the result hoped for by the people of Luxembourg: the trial and execution of the war criminal in Luxembourg. Captain Alexander gave a report in fluent German, about his 2,500 km odyssey that began on November 23 and ended with the arrest of the Gauleiter on December 10 at 11 o’clock in the evening.

  “Please excuse me,” Alexander began, “that I was unable to bring the Gauleiter to Luxembourg alive, unhappily it didn’t happen the way I hoped it would. But Gustav Simon got what he deserved, the rope.” With English phlegm, he added, “It saved us quite a few expenses.”

  That the dead man is the Gauleiter there is no doubt: an examination of the corpse in Luxembourg’s main prison, together with the facts we have just given, clearly reveal his true identity.

  In spite of our disappointment that Gustav Simon committed suicide the thanks of our entire people go to Captain Alexander who secured the monster.

  There were, however, conflicting reports. Some claimed that Gustav Simon had been alive when Hanns picked him up from Paderborn prison, and that he did not hang himself, as Hanns had written in his field report. Instead, Hanns had then been joined by seven Luxembourg partisans, Captain Léone Muller among them, taken Simon to a forest outside of Paderborn and executed him. Having sworn an oath never to reveal what took place, Hanns was alleged to have covered up the murder, presenting the “official version” at the press conference the next day in Luxembourg.

  Whichever story was true, Hanns had successfully tracked down and arrested his first major war criminal. Mission accomplished—just about.

  After the press conference in Luxembourg, Hanns received an invitation to a reception at the splendid Salle des Fêtes in the Grand Ducal Castle, hosted by the Grand Duchess Charlotte and her family, who had recently returned from self-imposed exile in London. Standing by the drinks table, his worn khaki uniform neatly pressed, Hanns was approached by the Grand Duchess herself, who thanked him, in perfect English, for tracking down Simon. He, in return, handed her a crisp five-pound note: repayment for bedding her son Jean had bought for a fellow officer when they were both serving in the Irish Guards.

  Hanns spent the next week in Luxembourg boozily celebrating the arrest of Gustav Simon with Victor Bodson. The two men were as matched in their loathing of the Nazis—before the war, Bodson had helped over a hundred Jews escape from Germany—as they were in their ability to drink.

  *

  Throughout that summer Hanns had written to Ann on a regular basis, b
ut he had fallen silent during the autumn, kept busy in his new role as war crimes investigator. Ann wanted an explanation for Hanns’s prolonged silence.

  When Hanns returned to Belsen, Tilling handed him two pieces of correspondence: the first was a letter that Tilling had himself received from Ann in London, while Hanns had been scouring the countryside for Gustav Simon, and the second was his reply.

  28 November 1945

  Dear Lt. Col.,

  This is not going to be a proper letter but merely a few lines full of complaints which, the writer sincerely hopes, will produce the necessary effect. The writer was going to ask for help but decided to deal with the matter herself after all it is a very personal matter which is involved and any help might make things worse in this case.

  All the writer is really trying to point out is that Cpt. Alexander’s writing efforts during the last few weeks, not to mention months, have been absolutely appalling, and have not only been commented on by his “oh so beloved fiancée” but also by his family. Surely there is no earthly reason why Capt. Alexander can’t manage to scribble a few lines every second day. To use the words of a former officer in the artillery, there is always time for a letter and the writer is certainly of the same opinion.

  Please see what you can do to satisfy the writer or else the undersigned will have to take drastic steps.

  Yours sincerely,

  Ann Graetz

  A few days after receiving Ann’s letter, Tilling wrote back.

  10 December 1945

  Dear Madam:

  As Captain Alexander’s Commanding Officer I feel that some explanation is due from me as to his apparent unwillingness to write to you.

  Owing to the peculiar qualities of Captain Alexander’s character, he is invariably chosen for the most hazardous tasks, and in fact at the moment has been detailed by me to carry out a priority investigation into a German harem. This will, of course, entail working at high pressure by day and night, but in spite of working single handed, it is anticipated that with Captain Alexander’s enthusiasm and drive the job should be completed in time for a well earned rest at Christmas in order that he may replenish the lead in his pencil.