Steven Karras

by The Enemy I Knew: German Jews in the Allied Military

  Some weeks after the armistice, I went back to Mainstockheim, primarily to look for my family. Local residents knew only that the Jews had been “sent to a labor camp in the East” several years before.

  My parents and two younger brothers did not make it. All other relatives managed to immigrate to the United States. Recently, I saw the list with the names of twenty-seven Jewish persons deported from my village, and some of them were distant relatives.

  I have a very peculiar viewpoint about how I feel about losing my family in all of that. I’m not unmindful that they were part of the six million that were murdered. I don’t say they were deported, I say they were murdered by the Nazis, and that it was deliberate, it was on purpose. Obviously I feel a great feeling of desolation over the loss of my family and all the others. All through history man has been inhuman to man, and unfortunately I was born into a time and place where this took place again, and my family was among the unfortunate horrible victims.

  For a time, I was stationed at Camp Dentyne near Kassel in Central Germany and later at Seventh Army headquarters in Heidelberg. From there, I was ordered back to the United States for eventual discharge in February 1946 at Camp Kilmer, New Jersey. I believe we boarded a Liberty ship in Marseille and came home after a stop in the harbor at Casablanca, Morocco. Once again, it was a primitive ride, with much seasickness on the wallowing ship, but the best part was that we were heading west and soon into civilian life.

  AFTER THE WAR, I had totally camouflaged my past for the sake of avoiding discrimination and securing equal opportunity in life and in business. This means that on my business and vacation trips to Europe (including Germany), I always pretended that I was born in the United States and had studied French and German in school.

  Beginning in 1997, I came out of the closet, including also on my visits and to my contacts in Europe. Since that time, I have enjoyed and created close relationships and friendships with many Germans, both individuals and officials, and I have been asked to speak to some German school classes and in public. My attitude is that horrible crimes against human beings were committed by the Nazi government and officials, as well as by many ordinary German men and women who were literally “drunk” with the idea that they were the master race. This idea led them to believe they had the mission and the right to take over other countries, take over individuals’, companies’, and countries’ possessions, and harass and take lives at will, whenever the victims fit into their schemes for domination and extermination.

  I feel that a vast majority of Nazi-era Germans either participated in, or proudly endorsed, these nightmarish crimes and misdeeds. I also feel equally strongly that the present-day descendants of these millions of perpetrators are in no way guilty or responsible for the deeds and crimes committed in the 1930s and 1940s. This is why I am committed to, and comfortable with, working alongside present-day Germans, Belgians, and French people to honor the memory and lives of the victims, and to do all that is possible to preserve their memories and their accomplishments, no matter how mundane.

  My family and I have been most fortunate to collaborate and interact with many dozens of people in many German communities for this purpose and in this spirit. For example, in 2007 my wife, Jeanne, my son, Andrew, and I joined a pilgrimage of eighty local government officials and twenty-five high school students and their teachers. We traveled from my Franconian home area to southeastern Poland to erect a memorial to the victims from their region, visit three mass murder camps, and hold meaningful discussions about these victims’ lives and sufferings.

  In October 2008, Jeanne and I participated in a one-week commemoration of Holocaust victims as guests of the city of Dinslaken in the Rhineland, because some of the local children were refugees with me in Belgium and in France. I met new people there who were intent on paying homage to the victims from their area. Also, I spoke at a public gathering and at several high schools about the events and situation of the Nazi era.

  Many similar activities in the United States and with Europeans have become an important part of my life in recent years and will continue to play an important role. As I said at the ceremony in Poland, reconciliation and commemoration are the only means available to us to honor the victims and their lives, as well as to join with the descendants of the perpetrators. Recrimination and vilification will not serve to honor them.

  Walter Reed’s lifelong occupation was public relations, and he was director of public relations for the National Automatic Merchandising Association (for the vending machine industry) in Chicago. As a lifetime member of Rotary International, he continues to travel the world and speak publicly about his experiences.

  Chapter 17

  MANFRED STEINFELD

  JOSBACH, GERMANY

  82nd Airborne Division Operation Market Garden

  Manfred Steinfeld lived in a small village of four hundred with six Jewish families. The oldest of three siblings, Steinfeld left Germany on the Kindertransport in the summer of 1938 and arrived in Chicago a few weeks later. Inducted nearly one year after finishing high school, after his basic training, Steinfeld was sent to the Army Specialized Training Program and then to Camp Ritchie for additional army intelligence training. At the time of the invasion of Normandy, he volunteered for paratroopers and was assigned to the 82nd Airborne. His first action was in Holland. In the photograph above, Steinfeld (right) meets the Russians in Grabow, Germany, 1945.

  I was born in Josbach, located one hundred kilometers north of Frankfurt. In the province where I was born, 492 communities had Jewish residents in 1933. This was in a province that is 100 miles by 100 miles, and they had been there since 1650, 1700, and some even before that. In World War I, most Jews were sent to the infantry and the number of fatalities among Jewish participants was twice as high as any other ethnic group. From my own family, one of my father’s and one of my mother’s brothers were killed. My father served in Macedonia.

  We had a semi-successful general store and made a modest living. We lived in a town with six Jewish families. At the turn of the century, there were twelve Jewish families. The Sabbath was observed and they were all orthodox, but they also felt they were good Germans. I distinctly remember the election in 1933; Germans who fought in World War I all came to the election with their medals on because they had served in the war and felt as though nothing was going to happen to them.

  I am sometimes amazed that we did not have radio or television, and yet information was quickly and widely disseminated by mouth. We knew what was taking place because some of the men were arrested, and they came back after severe beatings or after having been confined for six weeks to two months. In 1933 I was nine years old, my little brother was seven, and my sister was eleven. When the United States adopted a quota for the amount of Germans to be accepted in 1938, my mother applied for a quota number that indicated we would be able to get out by 1940 or 1941. She then decided to register me with the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society (HIAS) that was responsible for getting children out, and in July 1938 I left with twelve other German Jewish children. At the same time she had registered my younger brother, Herbert, to go to Palestine, and he left in November 1939. My mother was more interested in saving her children. In fact, my sister was in Hamburg the day war broke out. She was supposed to go to England on the Kindertransport but she did not get out.

  I arrived in New York, but traveled on to Chicago to join an aunt and uncle already living there. I certainly had to have been impressed by what I saw. I adapted very well and found part-time jobs while going to school. I was put in the eighth grade, graduated from primary school in 1939 and graduated from Hyde Park High School in 1942. All of my friends were American Jewish kids, though in Hyde Park there were many German Jews.

  I realized in 1941 that when America entered the war that I, as a resident of the United States, was subject to the draft. I entered the service in March 1943. I was certainly very anxious to do my part, and for the Allies to have a victory. I was sent to Scott Field, Il
linois, and then to Camp Roberts, California, for basic infantry training. From there I went to the Army Specialized Training Program at the City College of New York. In January 1944, I went to Military Intelligence School at Camp Ritchie, Maryland. I completed a first course in interrogation of prisoners of war (IPW) and went on to become an order of battle specialist.

  I became an expert in the German Army. In school we had American instructors speaking German and dressed up in German uniforms, and that was our only exposure to the German army until we got to Europe. My responsibility was to make an assessment based on the information we were getting from the POWs—for example, the breakdown of weapons, equipment, commanding officers, and the type units we were opposing. I found this quite easy because it was the same breakdown in the U.S. Army. It went as follows: squad to the platoon, platoon to company, company to battalion, battalion to regiment, regiment to brigade, brigade to division, and so on.

  I sailed to Southampton, and then on to London to Military Intelligence headquarters, which was located at 40 Hyde Park Gate. The British were very accommodating, receiving us with open arms. My immediate assignment was to receive reports from the French underground, obtained by inmates of the brothels the Germans had established. With the usual German efficiency, every dog tag of a German soldier had name, rank, serial number, and the unit assignment. As these soldiers patronized the house of prostitution, all of these names were marked down by members of the French underground and sent to intelligence headquarters. Based on that information, we were able to make some assessment on the units we were facing on the coast of France.

  At the same time the invasion was taking place, they requested volunteers for the airborne units, and I volunteered for the paratroopers, 82nd Airborne Division. This was exciting for a nineteen-year-old to jump out of airplanes. I was also patriotic and wanted to do my duty and win the war. Jump school was in England. We all had to be physically fit, which took about a week. It consisted of one hour of double time in the morning, stretching, landing, and then another evening of double time (full pack). It was total exhaustion. We also had to learn to climb ropes.

  The first jump was on Monday, the second was on Tuesday, third was Wednesday night, the fourth was Thursday, and the fifth was on Friday. Then I graduated from school on Saturday as qualified parachutist. I distinctly remember that I was the last man waiting to jump when the jump master came up to me and said, “Steinfeld, give me your wallet and watch. One out of every hundred parachutes won’t open, and yours might be it.”

  I was trembling, but the chute opened automatically after he took my personal possessions and pushed me out of the plane. Certainly the next jumps were easier because I knew what to expect. When we got jump training we were jumping from fifteen hundred feet, so the total exercise from the time we were out of the plane until we landed was two minutes, so we wouldn’t be an easy target on the way down.

  I was assigned to the G-2 Section, as part of the order of battle team, number 16, which was commanded by Lieutenant Able, Sergeant Wynn, and me. Both of these soldiers did not speak German, so I had an advantage over them in carrying out certain responsibilities. We were responsible for all of the intelligence on which we based our campaign strategies.

  The one campaign I was involved in from the beginning planning stages was the one in Holland. We were stationed in Leicester, England, and the campaign was announced fifteen days before the jump. It was hurriedly planned and I was involved from the beginning to the invasion, which was September 17, 1944. The 82nd jumped at Nijmegen, the 101st jumped at Eindhoven, and the 1st British Airborne jumped at Arnhem. The strategy was to seize all of the bridges over the Rhine and Waal River, and then make a shortcut into Germany.

  Today, that campaign is considered one of the biggest military blunders. The 1st British failed at Arnhem. We remained at Nijmegen from September 17 to November 15, holding that part of the lines while the 1st British Airborne was wiped out. The Polish Brigade, which jumped five days later to assist the British, was also wiped out. The total campaign’s casualties were about fifteen thousand.

  I came in by glider. Normally, a unit would decide who was to jump and who would come in by glider. I was sitting in a jeep (in the glider) with Lieutenant Able, the chaplain of the 82nd Airborne, and we crashed. We all got hurt badly because the glider was totally demolished. I landed about fifty feet from the point of impact. There were more casualties caused by the glider landings than parachute jumps in Normandy and Holland. Jumping was comparatively safer than landing in a glider.

  I was taken to a first aid station because I was banged up quite badly, with cuts and bruises. I finally made it to the G-2 Section on the day after D-Day. General Gavin, commander of the 82nd Airborne Division, insisted those in headquarters live the same way as the soldiers on the frontlines. I lived in a foxhole for two months. We were not allowed the comfort of taking over buildings.

  We did have the first Yom Kippur services in Holland, very close to the German border, in 1944.

  I was in Holland until the middle of November. After being relieved from the frontlines, I was sent to a base camp in France until the Battle of the Bulge on December 18. I was responsible for posting the military situation map every day, as we received information from Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force (SHAEF). I remember in the middle of December, we knew that the Germans were planning something. We knew there was a huge concentration of German forces and equipment, but no one was expecting anything.

  We went by convoy to the Ardennes through the snow in the cold weather. Those nights during the bulge were quiet and terrifying. There were German soldiers infiltrating our lines dressed in American uniforms. I remember emptying a magazine into the night when I thought I had heard something. The next morning, I realized that I wasn’t shooting at anything. My first actual contact with the enemy was during the bulge, when I interrogated a prisoner who was born and lived in the town next to my birthplace. Unless he was a member of the fanatical SS, the typical German soldier was glad to be captured.

  After the German counteroffensive stopped, we were sent back to base camp in France. In the middle of March, we were assigned to the newly formed U.S. Ninth Army, then holding the west bank of the Rhine in the vicinity of Cologne. We were there until the middle of April, when the 82nd Airborne established the last bridgehead along the Elbe River.

  On May 2, 1945, I was on the reconnaissance patrol that contacted the Russians. At the same time, I was involved in translating the unconditional surrender document; the 82nd Airborne Division accepted the surrender of about four hundred thousand Germans facing our sector on May 3, 1945. We also came across the Woebblin labor camp, a sub-camp of a larger Neuengamme concentration camp. I was certainly emotionally distraught in the camp, because there was always the possibility of seeing my mother and sister among the dead or half-dead. That was one fear I had. When we found the bodies in the camp, we decided to bury them in the nearby town square. I made the funeral arrangements and the American chaplain gave the eulogies. The Germans, of course, felt that we were doing an injustice to them by accusing them of these crimes, even though they lived only three miles away. They swore they had no knowledge of the atrocities. “We didn’t know” was the typical German excuse.

  When I was military governor of a town called Boizenberg in June, a woman came up to me in a concentration camp striped dress. She informed me that a man walking across the street was a criminal, and we arrested and interrogated him. It turned out that his name was Ludwig Ramdohr and he was the assistant commander of the infamous Ravensbrueck concentration camp for women, where this woman was an inmate. We took him out for target practice and threatened him with our pistols before turning him over to the British military tribunal on June 10. He had a military trial and was hanged by the British in 1946.

  The interesting aspect of that incident is that the woman who came up to me was the former daughter-in-law of Martin Buber, the famous Austrian Jewish philosopher. Her name
was Margarete Buber-Neumann; she divorced Professor Buber’s son in 1930 and married Heinz Neumann, the head of the German Communist Party (he was executed in the Soviet Union by Stalin in 1937). When the war started, she was repatriated to Germany where she spent 1939–1945 in a camp.

  By May 15, 1945, we knew what had taken place in the camps. When we moved back to France in June 1945, I received permission to go to my hometown. I arrived in Josbach on a Sunday morning and went to the burgermeister’s (mayor’s) office. News of my arrival came as people were leaving church. I soon found out the tragic fate of my mother and sister; they were deported in October 1941, sent to the Riga Ghetto until October 1944, when they were sent to Stutthof concentration camp near Danzig. My mother died December 30, 1944, and my sister died January 15, 1945.

  When the war ended, the 82nd Airborne was selected to be the occupational force in Berlin. We entered Berlin in July and remained until October 15. I was discharged on October 29 from Camp McCoy in the United States.

  Manfred Steinfeld is a philanthropist and the cofounder of Shelby Williams Furniture. With his wife, Fran, he most recently founded the Danny Cunniff Leukemia Research Laboratory at Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem, in memory of their grandson, Danny Cunniff, who died of leukemia in 1997.

  Chapter 18

  JACK HOCHWALD

  VIENNA, AUSTRIA

  6860th HQ Detachment Assault Force, Seventh Army

  Jack Hochwald emigrated from Vienna, Austria, in 1938. Upon induction, he was sent to train with an all-Austrian battalion, which included exiled members of the Habsburg dynasty. After the outfit was disbanded due to political pressure, Hochwald was sent to a replacement depot in France and then to a frontline intelligence unit, in which he served until the war ended. After VE Day, he returned to Vienna to arrest Nazis he knew before the war. A photo of Hochwald was unavailable; pictured above is the 6860th insignia patch.