Olère’s drawings included the hollow wire-mesh columns into which the Zyklon B was dropped through the roof. These wire-mesh columns were in a staggered arrangement. Both Olère’s drawings and the American photos showed this arrangement. When Irving contended that Olère’s memories could have been shaped by photographs that “were splashed all over the press,” Robert Jan asked Irving for press photographs showing the gas chamber plans.24 When Irving ignored Robert Jan’s challenge and quickly abandoned this line of questioning, I assumed that he had none. He just lobbed one of his many theories.
Irving’s next query left me utterly perplexed. Did Olère have “a prurient interest in the female form?” Robert Jan looked equally bewildered. Irving continued, “In almost every single one of these pictures he has drawn . . . there are naked women full frontal . . . and there is no reason whatsoever that he should have made these pictures in that way unless he intended to sell them.” Irving continued, “Is it likely that nearly all the females who became victims of the bestialities of the Nazis in Auschwitz were nubile, young and attractive?” Robert Jan, his face reddening in anger, insisted, “No, it is not very likely.”25 As the two men went back and forth, I opened Robert Jan’s report to see if the women in Olère drawings were indeed “nubile, young, and attractive.” When I realized what I was doing, I rapidly closed the file, disgusted with myself for having taken Irving’s accusations seriously.
Irving resumed his attack on Sonderkommando Tauber, accusing him of having given testimony that was so bizarre, it sounded “almost Talmudic.” According to Irving, Tauber had testified that he had seen a prisoner “chased into a pool of boiling human fat.” As Irving poked fun at Tauber, I sat comparing Tauber’s actual testimony with Irving’s putative summary of it. The difference was staggering. Tauber had testified at the war crimes trial:
[T]he SS chased a prisoner who was not working fast enough into a pit near the crematorium that was full of boiling human fat. At that time the corpses were incinerated in open air pits, from which the fat flowed into a separate reservoir, dug in the ground. This fat was poured over the corpses to accelerate their combustion. This poor devil was pulled out of the fat still alive and then shot.26
Robert Jan countered Irving’s attacks on Tauber by noting that his descriptions of the gas chamber and crematoria were corroborated by the architectural plans. Irving speculated that the Polish judge who took Tauber’s testimony placed the plans in front of him while he testified. Robert Jan asked Irving for evidence that the Polish judge had done this. Irving moved right on. Moreover, Robert Jan continued, Tauber had described aspects of the gassing and incineration procedures that were not on the plans. Robert Jan concluded his defense of Tauber with the observation that, even if the Poles had put the drawings in front of him, these were very technical documents. Tauber could not have made “up a story which matches point for point information in the blueprint of a very technical and specialist nature.”27
Irving, continuing his attack on the eyewitnesses, demanded to know, Why, if so many people have survived, “it is always the same old gang who come forward and give the evidence?” His choice of words—“same old gang”—felt like a fingernail scraping across a blackboard. Robert Jan argued that there were only a handful of people who had seen the gas chambers and survived. Their testimony, however, was explicit and trustworthy. Irving disagreed, describing them as “highly suspect” and their testimony as “scattered, skimpy and . . . questionable.”28
AIRTIGHT DOORS AND FIELD KITCHENS
Some of Robert Jan’s most devastating testimony came from the perpetrators. Hans Stark, a member of what was known in Auschwitz as the camp Gestapo, had testified at a war crimes trial about the gassing process:
As early as autumn 1941 gassings were carried out in a room . . . [which] held 200 to 250 people, had a higher-than-average ceiling, no windows, and only a specially insulated door, with bolts like those of an airtight door [Luftschutztür]. . . . The room had a flat roof, which allowed daylight in through the openings. It was through these openings that Zyklon B in granular form would be poured.
Stark had told the court that, because the Zyklon B “was in granular form, it trickled down over the people as it was being poured in. They then started to cry out terribly for they now knew what was happening to them.”29
Given the compelling nature of this testimony and the fact that it came from a perpetrator, I assumed that Irving would deem it wise to simply not cross-examine Robert Jan about it. I was wrong. Zeroing in on the word “Luftschutztür,” he charged that the translator should have used the “totally harmless” “air-raid door” instead of the rather “sinister airtight door.” Robert Jan dismissed Irving’s criticism about one word and pointed out that the entire paragraph was quite sinister. I was surprised when Judge Gray weighed in. “This is in the context of gassings in 1941 and Zyklon B being poured through holes in the roof. . . . You cannot possibly say, Mr Irving . . . that Hans Stark is describing an air raid shelter on the basis of this passage can you?”30 Irving said he was trying to show how translations could skew meanings. Judge Gray’s face betrayed no response, but I doubted he was impressed with this argument.
In his report Robert Jan had cited a September 1942 permit obtained by Auschwitz commandant Rudolf Höss for use of a car to inspect “Feldöfen” (“field ovens”) in the vicinity of Auschwitz. The permit and the extensive documentation about the trip were yet additional links in the chain of evidence of the killing process. The German authorities, intent on disposing of evidence of the mass killings, wanted the corpses in the graves burned. Höss was going to inspect the incineration grids. Before questioning Robert Jan about the permit, Irving handed him a translation of it. Robert Jan glanced at the document and immediately noted that the word “Feldöfen” had been translated as “field kitchens.” Robert Jan complained that this document had “nothing to do with kitchens . . . but with incineration ovens.” Judge Gray, who knew German, asked who had translated the word “Öfen” as “kitchens”? Irving, sounding rather apologetic, explained that he had done the translation at 2 A.M. the previous morning. Given the hour, there was an “element of stress.”31 I was skeptical about Irving’s explanation, but did not think the whole issue amounted to very much. I noticed that Thomas, one of our researchers, who had been paying very careful attention to this exchange, suddenly buried himself in his laptop. He seemed to be searching for something.
ONE ELEVATOR—HALF A MILLION CORPSES
Later that afternoon, Irving tried to chip away at Robert Jan’s contention that five hundred thousand people had been gassed in crema 2, the building that had been altered to include gas chambers. The bodies were taken from the basement gas chambers by elevator to the crematoria ovens one floor above. Irving’s point of attack was the single elevator in the building. I was not surprised by this line of questioning because a few days earlier, when Irving had been in the witness box, he had announced that he would use the issue of the elevator to “get revenge on Professor van Pelt.”32 Irving declared it far-fetched to believe that this one elevator could have moved so many bodies. Robert Jan explained that in early 1943, camp authorities, aware that there would be bodies to burn, ordered the elevator’s capacity doubled from 750 to 1,500 kilos. Judge Gray asked what this meant in practical terms: “That would be how many corpses?” Robert Jan calculated “20, 25 corpses” per load. Irving immediately interjected: “The same question of course is how many people you can pack into a telephone box.”33 I felt a mix of incredulity and disgust.
Irving argued that, if the elevator was piled with corpses “six or seven high, . . . the doors would not close.” Robert Jan, speaking very deliberately, said, “There were no doors.” Irving who had been studying a paper on his small lectern, looked up in surprise: “There were no doors?” He pursed his lips and then, after a moment’s thought, smiled slightly—one could almost see the light bulb go off over his head—and, in a rush of words, said, “That would be even wors
e then. The bodies would presumably get jammed against the side of the lift shaft if they piled them too high.” Once again Irving had unself-consciously turned his argument around. First the problem was that the doors wouldn’t close. Then it was that there were no doors.
Irving kept pressing Robert Jan about the elevator, demanding some “back-of-the-envelope” calculations to determine how long it would take to load two thousand bodies, go up one level, remove them, and return to the bottom. Robert Jan, eyes flashing, declared, “I do not do back-of-the-envelope calculations.”34 Irving insisted. Robert Jan turned to Judge Gray as if he was expecting him to intervene. The judge said nothing. Robert Jan, having no choice, began to calculate in a rather lackluster fashion. At the most, he estimated, it would take ten minutes for the elevator to be loaded, go up one floor, be unloaded, and return to the first floor. Irving challenged Robert Jan’s calculations. For what seemed like an unbearably long time, the two debated the procedure for loading and unloading bodies. The room was warm, but I felt chilled. Finally the session ended. Instead of immediately packing up my books and papers, as I usually did, I sat ruminating, until I felt a pat on my shoulder. It was Rampton. He said nothing, but looked sad.
James Dalrymple, writing in the Independent, described his reaction to the session. “In the train that night, to my shame, I took out a pocket calculator and began to do some sums. Ten minutes for each batch of 25, I tapped in. That makes 150 an hour, which gives 3,600 for each 24-hour period. Which gives 1,314,000 in a year. So that’s fine. It could be done. Thank God the numbers add up. When I realized what I was doing, I almost threw the little machine across the compartment in rage.”35 His anger reminded me of how I felt when I found myself examining Olère’s drawings to see if the women were depicted pornographically. Irving, despite his record of distortions and inventions, had beguiled both of us into taking his theories—if only for a moment—seriously.
A VIRTUAL TOUR OF THE GAS CHAMBERS
One morning had been set aside for Robert Jan to present a computer-generated re-creation of the gas chambers. The judge began by asking him what there was to be “derived or inferred from the blueprints relating to the construction of the gas chambers.” He quickly corrected himself, “sorry . . . which entitles one to infer that provision was made for gas chambers generally and . . . perhaps for the ducts into which these Zyklon-B pellets are alleged to have been poured?”36 Puzzled, I asked James about this convoluted language. He whispered, “He does not want to suggest that he has already made up his mind about the gas chambers. It’s annoying but it’s a forensic necessity.”
For the next hour, pointer in hand, Robert Jan conducted a seminar on the gas chambers. Mimicking the judge, he too referred to “alleged gas chambers.” Robert Jan pointed out that in Auschwitz most architectural drawings were prepared by prisoners who signed them, not with their names, but with their prison numbers. In contrast, the drawings of the alterations for cremas 2 and 3—when gas chambers were introduced into these buildings—were made by SS architect Walther Dejaco, drawing room chief. Since Dejaco rarely prepared drawings, this already signaled that there was something unique about these changes. But it was the changes themselves that indicated an entirely new purpose had been found for this portion of the building. The doors of the room that became the gas chamber were altered to open outward not inward. Robert Jan posited that Auschwitz authorities had learned—based on the Chelmno gas vans—that people run toward the door when gas is introduced into the room. The pile of corpses would have made it impossible to push the door open after the gassing.37
Robert Jan also took note of what had been removed from the original plans. There had been a concrete slide on the side of the building leading to the basement. The slide, which had a narrow set of steps on each side, had been designed for stretchers carrying corpses. The steps could each accommodate the people guiding the stretcher. It had been replaced with a staircase. The new staircase was not wide enough for a stretcher with a person on each side. However, it could accommodate people walking in on their own.
Irving had a completely different explanation for the replacement of the chute with steps. The architects might have decided “for matters of taste and decency, to have a clean side of the building where people could go in without having to jostle with corpses that might be infected going down the steps and they decided, therefore, for pure hygiene reasons to move the staircase.” I found it hard to imagine that Auschwitz architects were worried about “taste and decency.” Robert Jan agreed that Irving’s theory might make sense but for the fact that with the slide gone there was no way to get the corpses into the building.38 If this was still a morgue, as Irving contended, the bodies had to be brought in and transported to the ovens. Irving suggested that the elevator served this purpose. Robert Jan pointed out that this was simply not plausible. In order to reach the elevator, the people carrying a stretcher would have had to go through two doorways, neither of which could easily accommodate a stretcher, and walk over the coke supply. Finally, Robert Jan observed that the head of the Auschwitz construction office had ordered that, in contrast to plans for other buildings, which were readily available to people at the site, access to these plans was severely limited. Why, Robert Jan wondered, such strict secrecy, if the buildings were just morgues?39
As we headed to lunch, I caught up with Rampton. Walking into Brick Court, I said, “Do you remember when I got angry in Auschwitz because you challenged Robert Jan about why there haven’t been more tests on the gas chambers?” Rampton took a long drag on his Gitanes and said, “I remember. Very well.” His tone indicated that it had been as unpleasant for him as me. “I was angry,” I explained, “because you seemed unsure about the truth of the gas chambers.” Ignoring the brisk January weather, he stopped and asked, “Now, do you understand what I was doing?” It all seemed utterly obvious. “You were preparing Robert Jan for cross-examination.” “Precisely. I had to ensure he was ready for Irving’s challenges.”
I wanted to apologize for challenging him. I wanted to tell him how much I appreciated not just the forensic skills, but the passion he brought to this case. Before I could formulate the words, he said, “I think it’s time for some good wine. It’s the only thing that makes these sandwiches palatable.” With that he headed for the wine cellar he maintained in the building. He returned with a bottle of 1995 Pommard, Les Epenots, a robust full-bodied Burgundy, and, before passing it around the table, filled two glasses. As he handed me one, he mused, “I think we both need that today.”
Later Irving returned to the question of the holes, repeatedly engaging in various incantations of “no holes, no Holocaust.” Finally, Irving gripped the small podium in front of him, rose up on his toes, and challenged Robert Jan to go to Auschwitz “with a trowel and clean away the gravel and find a reinforced concrete hole.” If the holes were found, Irving proclaimed, “I would happily abandon my action immediately. . . . It would drive such a hole through my case that I would have no possible chance of defending it any further.” Robert Jan said nothing. There was silence in the room, which Judge Gray finally filled: “You have made the point and I understand it, that nobody has actually done the excavation work.”40 With that Irving concluded his cross-examination. He looked pleased.
Most of Robert Jan’s report had not been challenged by Irving. Nonetheless, I worried that Judge Gray, who periodically complimented Irving on his cross-examination, might think that Irving’s various theses—morgues, air-raid shelters, and chambers for gassing objects—were valid “alternative” historical explanations. Would he think that since nobody had “done the excavation work,” Irving’s attack on the holes was credible?*
INNOVATIVE CREMATORIA
Rampton rose to reexamine Robert Jan. Rampton referred to the 1942 patent submitted by Topf, the company that built the crematoria, for the specially designed ovens in Auschwitz. Those ovens simultaneously consumed multiple bodies with limited expenditure of fuel. The design called for the sim
ultaneous introduction of both emaciated and unemaciated corpses in order to guarantee continuous high temperatures through the emission of human fat. If only emaciated corpses were incinerated, it was necessary to continuously add fuel. This was precisely the procedure that Tauber had testified the Sonderkommandos followed: “The corpses of people gassed directly on arrival, not being wasted, burnt better. . . . During the incineration of such corpses we used the coke only to light the fire of the furnace initially, for fatty corpses burn of their own accord.”41 Topf’s 1942 patent application provided the thermodynamic explanation for the Sonderkommandos’ decision to bring different-size corpses to the ovens. The application also demolished Irving’s assertion that vast amounts of fuel were needed to burn the bodies. But it did something else: It exemplified why the “convergence of evidence” was such a useful historical method. Prisoner Henryk Tauber would not have had access to Topf’s patent application, which was filed in Berlin in 1942. Yet the procedure he and his colleagues followed was exactly what the design stipulated.
Finally, Rampton asked Robert Jan about the elevator. Robert Jan had estimated that the elevator could hold approximately 25 corpses. A letter by Auschwitz’s chief architect, Karl Bischoff, from June 1943 listed an incineration rate for crema 2—the crema in which Robert Jan estimated 500,000 people had been murdered—of 1,440 corpses per twenty-four hours. Rampton asked Robert Jan if it was “feasible” for the one elevator in this building to deliver the requisite number of bodies each hour from the gas chambers to the ovens. Robert Jan did the calculations and said, “Yes . . . the elevator could keep up with the ovens.”42 With that Robert Jan ended his testimony.
Two mornings later, Irving spotted Robert Jan in the courtroom and recalled him. He questioned the authenticity of the June 1943 letter, which listed the daily capacity of crema 2 as 1,440. There were some anomalies about the way it was dated, addressed, and numbered. Though Robert Jan considered these objections groundless, Judge Gray seemed intrigued by them. “Taking . . . the points that have been put to you by Mr Irving about the authenticity of this document. . . . Are you doubtful about it?” Robert Jan explained that had the letter only recently been discovered he would be suspicious. But researchers had known of it for over fifty years. Not only was the original available but there was a typed copy of it in another archive. Given that there were two different copies in two different archives, it was highly improbable that they were forgeries. Finally, it listed an incineration capacity that was lower than that German officials gave in postwar trials. Why would someone falsify a document with a lower incineration rate than that which has been attested to under oath by the German eyewitnesses? “That is the discrepancy.”43 I turned around to look at Rampton. His arms and legs were crossed and he was gazing downward. From where I sat, I could discern that he was smiling ever so slightly.
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