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Men versus supermen / by Ernest Landau.
- New York/Toronto : Rinehart, 1949, |
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A Copy of the texte was sended to npdata by the Mémorial de la Shoah, Paris, on our simple demand. |
| Landau here describes the tense hours on the eve of liberation in Bavaria. The narrative, written soon after the events, recreates the harrowing emotions of souls who were conscious that before dawn they might be condemned, either by the guns of their SS enemies or the bombs of their American allies, to eternal night. But fate, at long last, was kind, and the prisoners summoned their last energies to prevent any change of fortune. "A feeling of resistance is suddenly awakened in us—a plan suddenly initiated." When the morning came and American troops appeared, the frightened SS were in their power. The GI liberators understood the survivors and perhaps for the first time they discerned the meaning of the war. The kindliness and generosity of these combat soldiers were engraved in the hearts of their beneficiaries. Born in Vienna in 1916, Landau attended local schools and worked as a reporter on the Telegraf and the Neue Freie Presse. He escaped to Belgium in the spring of 1938, supporting himself there by occasional reporting and teaching history in a Jewish school in Brussels. After the occupation of Belgium, he worked in the resistance movement—the Belgian Government decorated him with a Croix de Guerre in 1946— until he was seized by the Gestapo in January, 1941. He spent the next four and a half years in several concentration camps in Poland and Germany, and after living for a while in the assembly center at Feldaf-ing he took up residence in Munich. There he returned to his erstwhile-profession, editing the Neue Welt, a widely read periodical devoted to Jewish life and culture. As a commentator on the German radio, he has done much to interpret the status of his people and the meaning of democracy. Landau visited the United States during the summer of 1949 with a group of publicists and educators sponsored by the U. S. Military Government, and he is planning to settle here permanently. |
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A train consisting of about fifty cattle cars is at a standstill in a field between Tutzing and Feldafing, nearly twenty miles from Munich, the capital of Bavaria. SS surround it. What precious freight is being so carefully guarded? Precious? Not at all. Only prisoners evacuated from a concentration camp. Whither bound? To a destination known only to the transport commander. The SS guards have been nervous for days. The Americans are said to be not too far away, perhaps sixty miles, perhaps less. The behavior of the SS toward the prisoners improves hourly. Even those who had been brutal only a few days ago appear to grow soft and mild. This extraordinary change can be attributed to only one cause: Germany must be losing the war. It is long since our train had an engine. A number of cars remain stranded, forgotten. But the noise issuing from within and the chain of guards around the train indicates that there is life inside. It is after midnight. The people in the train are excitedly discussing the situation. It is quite obvious that the SS contingent has no intention of bringing the train to its original destination. How will the defeated supermen behave toward the prisoners? What sort of orders is the SS leader waiting for? Will they try to massacre us? Meanwhile, they conceal their intention. We are permitted to open the doors of the cars to bring in water for drinking, a favor never before extended. A few daring prisoners leave the cars to breathe the fresh night air; it may be their last chance. The SS may start shooting so the others remain behind. The post-guards stand in casual groups talking excitedly. They are almost as agitated as the prisoners entrusted to them. Some SS try to approach us, speaking kindly, as if asking for our protection. It is now evident that the situation is changing in our favor. A siren howls from afar .... an air raid. The SS no longer pay any attention to us, but run to find shelter, racing toward the forest and crouching behind any immovable object. A few seconds later, we hear the noise of approaching airplanes. From afar the sound of discharged bombs can be heard. The planes are overhead. They spot our train. Their machine-guns crackle, and a few new victims are discovered. But we are not discouraged. On the contrary, we afix our blue and white striped prison jackets to the roofs of the cars so that our train is easily identified. The planes return. Now they are overhead in flight formation. They dive. Not one shot is fired. They recognize us. After they leave, we count our losses; six dead and thirty injured. The SS return. They don't care about us; they don't count us; they don't take roll call. We keep secret the fact that a number of prisoners have escaped during the night. Most of us return to the cars. It is very quiet. Sometimes we hear the moaning of the injured and their subdued groans. We are distressed at our inability to care for them properly. Only makeshift dressings can be applied by our fellow-prisoners, the doctors. It is now three o'clock in the morning. Most of us lying awake in the cars are crouched in every available place, old and young together; it is impossible to discover to whom these arms and those legs belong. Again we hear the noise of motors. Planes? No! A huge automobile approaching the embankment. Is it friend or foe? We are always afraid that it might be some SS leader or a fanatical party official who will incite the hesitating and intimidated guards to use force against us. But it is not the enemy. The approaching heavy Mercedes has a flag on the radiator hood: a red background with a white cross. We recognize the Swiss ensign and start breathing again. Two men descend from the car. They ask to see the transport leader and a delegation of the prisoners. The transport leader, an SS captain, approaches hurriedly. The few prisoners who remain outside during the air raid surround the men, eager to hear the details. The occupants of the car present their credentials as officers of the Swiss consulate in Bernried. Their voices sound like music from heaven. But the SS transport leader stands motionless in fright. The Swiss speak loudly. So loudly, in fact, that tie prisoners standing a few yards away can hear everything clearly. They also notice the SS transport leader trying to stammer a few words in his defense. If he complies with their wishes, he says, he will be going against his orders, and beaten and punished by death. The Swiss laugh at his objections, and tell the frightened SS leader he may rest easy about his punishment for obeying neutral orders. They also mention that if he disobeys his orders, he will have to answer to the Americans. The transport leader, in doubt as to what to do, asks for time to consider. The Swiss diplomats accede, telling him he can have one hour. The German promises to reach a decision within the allotted time. He goes to consult with his men, waiting about one hundred fifty feet back from the scene. Then the Swiss diplomats turn to us. They speak now differently. Their voices are kind. They try to console us and set us at ease. "The liberators are near. You must have just a little more patience." They advise also to watch the SS. It seems that they cannot be trusted, and in a last effort to save themselves they may harm us. Before the Swiss leave, they promise to bring us food before daybreak. The conversation does not pass unnoticed. Before long more and more men come out of the cars to hear what has passed. I tell it to my Greek fellow-prisoners in French. Then it is translated into Polish, then into Hungarian, Rumanian, and many other languages. A feeling of resistance is suddenly awakened in us — a plan suddenly initiated. We are to form groups and to overpower the SS standing guard over the near-by cars. The leader is to be overcome by the same method. Not everyone is invited to join in our plans, for one wrong move may mean the end for everyone. Only a few daredevil men are asked to participate. The plan is executed according to schedule. Small groups form a circle around the guards, drawing them into conversation. None of the guards seems to anticipate what is in store for them. I myself belong to the group surrounding the leader. In the course of the conversation, the signal to attack is given. After a few blows the leader is knocked out, gagged, and tied up. One man seizes his gun. Before us we see the same picture repeated again and again. All the SS are overpowered. We are now the possessors of their guns and ammunition. None of them can utter a cry. The SS guards have a train car to themselves, in which the SS women, assigned to care for the female prisoners, sleep during the night. The SS women are overpowered while they sleep, and the bound SS thrown in with them. An armed guard is stationed before their car with orders to shoot if any of them should try to escape or offer resistance. Again we hear the noise of approaching motors, and again we hold our breaths. But it is the Mercedes with the Swiss flag. We welcome the two Swiss diplomats and tell them what we have done. They are quite pleased when they learn there was no bloodshed. They ask us to spare the imprisoned SS. The guilty ones, we are assured, will be brought to trial. Then they tell us the Wehrmacht will bring us soup and bread from the surrounding hospitals. We insist that the Germans come unarmed and as ambulance staff wearing Red Cross armlets. Then we ask the Swiss delegates to influence these Germans against performing hostile acts, or we will be compelled to take up arms against them. That, too, is promised us, and we are satisfied. The moon has long since set in the west. The rising sun throws its first rays upon us, announcing the new day. It is the dawn of the thirtieth of April. Two trucks arrive, the drivers wearing the uniform of the German Wehrmacht, and on their left arms a band with the red cross. We order them to halt and search the trucks for harmful contents. The result of the investigation is satisfactory. The trucks contain soup kettles and breadbaskets laden with food. We have our first meal in four days. While we are serving the exhausted people the sun has risen in full. Almost everyone comes out of the cattle cars to have their meal and to clean themselves as best they can. Others are eager to hear about the events of the night before. It is about eight thirty. We can hear the noise of motors on the not too far distant highway. We can see nothing, but the noise grows louder. Finally a cloud of dust appears on the horizon; we can recognize military vehicles, tanks, trucks. Questions whir about in our heads. Is it the retiring German Army or the SS? Maybe these are the Americans, so ardently expected. Before these questions can be expressed, the answer is apparent. Our liberators are at hand. The transport of prisoners signals to them. The first of the jeeps pulls in quickly as lightning, and we see the first American officers and men. Forgotten are hunger, weariness, and fear. Forgotten are the privations of the transport. We are free now, really free! We all run from the train. The American soldiers are surrounded, embraced, kissed, and raised upon our shoulders. We, until then prisoners, welcome our liberators with hysterical joy, with tears in our eyes. The soldiers and officers, so hardened by war, are deeply affected. Their eyes, full of horror and sympathy, stare at some of the starved, liberated people, emaciated to skin and bones, almost skeletons. They distribute chocolates, canned goods, and repeatedly, cigarettes. I reenter the train with an American officer and an English-speaking comrade. From one of the cars corpses are being unloaded and placed in the field along the track. The American, seeing that scene, is shocked. We do not have time now to meditate. We have duties to perform: to work for liberation, to assume responsibilities. We must deliver arms and ammunition. We must discuss quarters, maintenance, sanitation. The Americans have an understanding of all these problems. If we had accommodated ourselves to German organization, we can surely become familiar with American improvisation. Within twenty-four hours the whole transport was disinfected. Doctors arrived to take care of the injured. The sick were transferred to German hospitals and placed under the care of an American medical unit. Maintenance was secured, and lodging was provided in a former NSDAP riding school in Feldafing, evacuated for this purpose. |
