Michael left the bright lights on, closed the garage door, and walked to his house. He sat on his sofa, put his head back, and savored every sweet moment, knowing that Hans Stern was his prisoner in his court, where his sentence would be death.
Michael was relaxed. He snacked on some cheese, English biscuits, and a glass of full-bodied red and listened to La Boehme. He had Stern exactly where he wanted him.
There is no rush.
Michael returned to the garage the next morning and sat on the floor, his back against the front fender of his Chevy Bel Air. Stern appeared drained after spending the night handcuffed under the intense garage lights.
“Get me some schnapps, some water,” Stern demanded in a hoarse voice. “What are you doing, Michael? I have never hurt you. If you don’t let me go, I’ll call the police”
Michael didn’t answer. He felt no anxiety, only peace, as he listened to the faint strains of the opera coming from the house.
Calling the police would be the last thing Stern would do. They might discover who he really was. Besides, how could he call them?
Michael thought of the few times their eyes had met. He remembered one occasion when Stern stood in the doorway of the barracks as Ilona laid outside. His laugh and insults were as penetrating as the rocks piercing into Ilona’s naked body. There, Stern was in his tailored, gray-green SS uniform with a bottle of beer in his hand, laughing and pointing at Michael’s wife. Now Stern was here, a prisoner in Michael’s garage.
This is an unexpected gift.
Stern closed his eyes, covered them with his hand, and hung his head. Michael went back to the house, showered, and had breakfast.
Chapter 14
As Michael sipped his first cup of bold, black coffee, he listened to the Carpenters sing “Close To You.” The lyrics told of a girl’s longing to be close to someone she admired and loved. The song brought memories of Ilona and he tried to remember the last time he kissed her but couldn’t. It might have been on the train to Auschwitz, when all that was in front of them were miles of cold, steel tracks leading to gas chambers and crematoria.
Why didn’t the allies bomb these tracks? They knew where the tracks were.
When the train had arrived at Auschwitz, Michael stared into Ilona’s gaunt, unsmiling face, a stark contrast from her usual clear, bright eyes, sweet smile, and the look of love for her family. He’d looked into her watery eyes and felt her pain.
***
Now, in the year 1970, Stern was his, a prisoner. Michael got dressed, putting on a long sleeved shirt, and brought a piece of dark bread, a container of milk, and Stern’s heart medication to the garage. The stench in the small space was nauseating.
Stern was asleep. His head was slumped over his chest and his right arm by his side, lifeless. His pants were soaked with urine and the stench of his feces permeated the air. Michael shook him, gave him the bread and milk, and sat against the side of his car’s front fender with his knees up and his arms folded around them.
Stern gulped the milk and ate the bread, following it with the heart medication. Some of the bread and milk dribbled onto his shirt.
“Have we met before?” Stern asked, squinting. “Were you ever in Argentina?”
Michael didn’t answer. “Did we meet in Argentina?” Stern cried out.
“Are you a friend of Fernando? Did he put you up to this? Was it one of his friends?” Stern looked at Michael with a clenched fist and fire in his eyes.
“Why are you treating me like this? I’m an innocent human being. I have never done any harm to you or anyone. You must let me know if you know Fernando.”
Michael remained silent for a moment. Instead, he asked Stern if he ever used another name.
“No,” Stern was quick to respond, “I am Harry Sanders. That is my name and I have never used another.”
“Okay. Harry, you sit here until you’re ready to tell the truth. I’ll be back after lunch. If you’re still not ready, I will come back tomorrow.”
He ignored Stern’s pathetic screams of, “Gehen nicht. Gehen nicht. Don’t go!” Michael closed the garage door and left Stern under the glaring, bright lights.
***
Michael returned the next morning with a gallon of tap water and gave Stern a glassful. Stern’s hand trembled as he drank, dribbling the water onto his sweat-stained shirt.
“Hans?”
“Yes,” Stern answered in a hoarse voice.
“You are Hans Stern?” Michael questioned.
“Yes, but...”
“Are you Hans Stern, yes or no?”
Stern was silent.
“I will come back later.”
“No wait! Gehen nicht,” he said weakly. “I am Hans Stern.” His glazed eyes searched Michael’s. “How do you know me?”
“That will come later. I will say one thing. From now on, if anything comes out of your mouth that is not the truth, anything, I will leave you here to die and rot in hell. Otherwise, you will have a chance to live. Do you understand that?”
Hans drew a labored breath. “I understand. You will only hear the truth. I promise.”
“Were you a Nazi officer during the war?”
“Yes,” Stern answered with a downward gaze. “I was a major.”
“Were you at any concentration camps?”
“Yes, I was at Buchenwald and Auschwitz.”
“Is that the truth?” Michael asked as he moved his face closer to Stern and looked into his inflamed, half-closed eyes.
“Yes, yes, I swear,” he said, staring back.
“Are you sure? I think you’re lying.”
“No, it is the truth,” Stern said, banging his hand on the garage floor. “Please do not leave me here. What I said was the truth. I don’t know why you are doing this crazy thing. I have never done anything to hurt you. Please, a cigarette.”
“What were the names of people you knew or were friendly with at the camps?” Michael asked, his finger pointing at Stern like a dagger.
“At Buchenwald, I knew Ilse Koch, but she was crazy. She would walk around the camp naked with a whip and...”
“Okay, I don’t know anything about her. Who was commandant at Auschwitz when you were there?”
“It was Rudolf Hoess.”
“Were you friendly with him?”
“I was his only friend. Michael, why are you doing this? Let me go and I will tell you anything you want to know. I will not wait any longer,” he said firmly.
“What is the name of another Nazi officer that you knew well?”
Stern muttered, “I was in Treblinka and became friendly with Franz Stangl.”
“But you said you were only at Buchenwald and Auschwitz. That’s it, Hans! I only wanted the truth. You could have gone free, but…” Michael threw up his hands.
“Stop, please don’t say those things!” Stern pleaded. “I am so sorry. I was at Treblinka for so short a time that I forgot. It was maybe a week.”
Michael walked back to the house.
Let him wait. Millions of innocent Jews and others waited in agony, not knowing their fate, before they were murdered. Now it’s Stern’s turn to wait. Besides, he lied by not mentioning Treblinka. That was a small point. He will be more careful next time because he knows there will be consequences. It doesn’t matter, and he’s not aware I’m not quite ready to kill him.
What must he be thinking? What is he feeling? Many Jews had to wait and wonder, just as Stern must be doing now. They knew nothing of their destiny before they were killed. Let that monster drive himself crazy and live in fear in the little time he has left. I’ll decide when he will die.
Michael returned to the garage courtroom.
“Hans, you lied, and I thought about letting you die. You had that one chance to be truthful, and you lied. Maybe that worked at Auschwitz, but it doesn’t work in my courtroom. You even lied about being a good chess player, but you’re only an amateur. I’m going to do something different. Maybe it will give you a chance to live.”
“Yes, anything. I want to live. I was not lying before. I—”
“Stop, Hans! You lied. If it happens again, you’re dead! Did you lie? Yes or no?”
“Yes, I did,” Stern answered meekly.
“Say it again, louder.”
“I lied,” Stern said, increasing the sound of his voice.
“I can’t hear you!” Michael demanded.
“I lied, I lied, Michael,” Stern yelled.
“I’m going to put you on trial, right here. Look around you. This is my courtroom. I’ll be the judge, your judge. If you have a winning case for any one of your actions, just one, I will set you free, and that is a promise. Think of it as a chess game, Hans. If you play things right, you will win.”
“Thank you for giving me that chance. I know that you will let me go. I have always known you to be fair. I had that feeling about you when we played chess.”
“Who else did you know well at Auschwitz? Maybe you were never there?”
“Oh, Michael, I was there. I knew SS-Sturmbannführer, Richard Baer, Karl Hocker, Mengele and...”
“Okay, Hans, I believe you. Here’s a reward.” He filled Stern’s glass with water and watched him gulp it down.
He saw Stern eyeing some rolls of toilet paper on a shelf, but Michael said nothing to him. Michael endured the smell, knowing that it humiliated Stern.
“Let’s talk, Hans. You have only shared your lies with me. I thought you would be smarter than that. I know you are familiar with the term, Arbeit macht frei.”
Stern shrugged. “Yes, it means work will make you free. It was in bold iron letters on top of the gate at the entrance to Auschwitz.”
“Listen to me, Hans. In your case, right now, die wahrheit wird euch frei machen. Do you understand?”
“Yes, the truth will make me free. I didn’t know you spoke German so well. I tell you the truth and I go free.”
“Yes, I give you my word.”
“Thank you. I know you are an honorable man.”
“Maybe you can help me understand a few things, Hans, from your viewpoint. Why do you think Germany was so anti-Semitic?”
“It was Hitler’s way. He saw history as a racial struggle in which the Jews sought world domination and opposed Aryan beliefs. Nazi’s believed that only the superior German Aryan Race would persevere and dominate the world. Besides, Michael, Hitler saw Jews as corrupt and inferior. Also, Christian Semitic beliefs, which painted a picture of Jews as Christ killers and worshippers of the devil, helped support Hitler’s views.”
“Okay, I’m the devil now, and you’re my only customer. As the devil, what would Hitler and the rest of you think of me?”
“Please, give me something to eat.”
“Later. Answer the question.”
Stern took a deep breath. “We would think you are an evil person causing harm to others. When Hitler was sentenced to prison for five years, it was because he led the Beer Hall Putsch in Bavaria. While he was there, he dictated his book, Mein Kampf, to Rudolf Hess. In it, he said ‘the personification of the devil as the symbol of all evil assumes the living shape of the Jew.’ It doesn’t mean you, Michael. I know you are not an evil person. Hitler knew the Jews were hated everywhere in the world. You are not like them. I still don’t know why Jews are so hated. I have never thought about it. I just knew they were bad people and Hitler said they would hurt Germany. He didn't invent racism or anti-Semitism. There was a long history of suspicion and dehumanization against Jews for thousands of years. Hitler embraced the notion that Jews were evil and established laws to hurt the Jews and bring Germans to his side in a common belief. Besides, anti-Semitic laws were in effect in other European countries.”
“Really? Where?” Michael questioned.
“Eastern Europe. They had discriminatory laws against Jews in effect starting in 1938.”
“I see. Did you order the killing of large numbers of people? Remember, only the truth will set you free, Hans.”
Stern hesitated, touched his parched lips, and answered, “Yes. It is true, but I have never done anything on my own initiative. I was loyal to the Third Reich, just doing my job. I was a soldier following orders. A soldier doesn’t question if the laws are right or wrong. In every military force in the world, it is imperative to follow the orders of your superiors!”
“Even unjust laws? Illegal orders? Killing innocent people too?”
“Yes, if those were my orders. But what I did was not just about following orders, it was more than that. If I did not do it, I would be killed. It was about my survival, a basic instinct in all human beings. Maybe you would do the same.”
Michael asked himself if he would do it. Stern says it wasn’t only about following orders for him. It was about his survival. What would I do?
I could never kill an innocent human being, never! I would go down fighting and take as many Nazis down with me as I could.
Michael crossed his legs and sat against his Chevy, facing Stern. He put on a pair of sunglasses because the glaring lights were too much for him.
Stern quietly sat in his squalor. He cupped his hand over his eyes, but did not complain.
“Hans, do you think there are evil people in this world?”
Stern took has hand away from his eyes and squinted. “Yes, there are many evil people. They hurt others for no reason.”
“Aren’t you one of them? Come on, be honest, you’ve killed thousands of people. That makes you evil, doesn’t it?” Michael snapped.
“No, I killed for the flag of my country. I was a soldier and did what I was told. Sometimes it is necessary for civilians to die in wars. You may say killing is wrong, but in a war, it is right.”
Stern paused. “There are rules of war that must be followed just as in the game of chess. We make the rules, then follow them as we play the game. Many died in Vietnam while Americans ravaged their country. Countless innocent people are being killed by your bombs, right now as we speak, and American soldiers are following their superior’s orders to go into villages and kill all the men, women, and children. Is it right for you and wrong for us? That is what war is all about, Michael. It is a dirty business.
“In Germany, we had stored a supply of smallpox bacteria and planned to inject Jews with it and then send them across the channel in small boats in the hope they would infect the British with the deadly bacteria, but we followed the rules and didn’t do it. We also had a large supply of poison gas, but we never used it. Gassing people to death would also be against the rules. It is a terrible death.”
“Yes, it is.”
“But we didn’t do it.”
Michael shook his head in disbelief. “That’s a lot of crap, and you know it. You didn’t do your killing only on the battlefield. Your workplace was in the concentration camps, and you specialized in killing the elderly and children immediately and putting the others to work at hard labor ‘til they dropped. Maybe you find some sick justification in your clogged brain to believe that everything your country did was right. Hans, think concentration camp, the gas, the crematoria. Think, Mengele.” Michael was breathing rapidly and leaned against his car, trying to calm himself.
Stern said nothing until Michael asked, “Why do you think the Jews didn’t resist? Was it hopelessness? Were they worn down and humiliated to the point that they didn’t want to live? And don’t give me that bullshit about orders and survival. You always try to squeeze that in.”
Stern perked up.
“Oh, but they did resist. We suppressed all information about the uprisings and revolts. We never wanted word of it to spread. They resisted in the Warsaw Ghetto and many fought back in Sobibor and Treblinka. In one camp, hundreds of German soldiers were killed. Also, many Jews escaped from the trains on their way to Auschwitz. They contrived different ways to get the railway cars open enough for them to jump to safety. They always did it when the train was on a curve so the guards watching the entire length of the train would not see them. They escaped and many joined
the resistance and fought against us.”
Michael shed a tear and wiped his eyes.
Those poor people on the trains were in the wrong place and born in the wrong time. If only…
Stern continued to talk, but Michael retreated into his own world for a moment before he spoke.
“I didn’t know there were so many Jews who resisted. It wasn’t easy for them. They were so weak, without food or drink. Were there any uprisings in Auschwitz?”
“There were. One day, a group of Sonderkommandos attacked the SS guards at the gas chambers and crematoria. They killed our soldiers with knives and pieces of wood with nails in them. They took the soldiers’ weapons and shoved many of them alive into the ovens. Those Jews were strong and effective, maybe because they were so well-fed as a reward for the horrible jobs they had to do. They opened fire and killed almost one hundred of us. Then they threw a satchel containing gunpowder into a crematorium and blew it up. After they were captured, I personally had them killed. But, for Jews, any kind of significant resistance was impossible.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because the Jewish leaders contributed to the destruction of the Jewish people. They did nothing to protect them.”
“So, the Jewish leaders were to blame for the plight of the Jews? Come on, Hans.”
“Yes, it’s true. Jewish leaders feared that loud protests from them might provoke anti-Semitism and hurt the Jews even more, so the leaders did nothing. Believe me, anti-Semitism was already widespread, and the leaders felt that more protests would make it worse. The truth is that they were wrong. If the Jewish leaders encouraged demonstrations and outcries, it might have helped.”
“I’m not sure. There were major protests by Jews and others in America at Madison Square Garden before the war, but they accomplished nothing. Maybe it was because the Jew’s ‘savior,’ President Roosevelt, was an anti-Semite too. But what was your reason for killing tens of thousands of innocent people just because they were Jews?”
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