Moment in time -1944

DACHAU, GERMANY  - 6th September 1944

STEINER INSTINCTIVELY RECOILED away as blood and brain tissue erupted from the young woman’s head. His sharp reflexes enabled him to evade most of the gore, but his reactions were not quite quick enough to avoid some brain matter that flecked his face and jacket. The droplets that landed on his lips caused the bile to well in him as he tasted the bitch and smelt her essence in his nostrils. A deathly pallor came over his face as he fought hard to control his revulsion.

The woman, who moments before had been standing with her back turned to and below him, had spun with the impact of the bullet as she crumpled to the clay bottom of the freshly dug trench. Blood spraying from the woman’s head washed down her nakedness as she lay there, and the rain, falling in a fine drizzle, diffused the red rivers that were flowing over her cooling cadaver. Her stained, lifeless body would soon meld with the other corpses already lying in the mass grave, and those would be victims that were about to join them. Fifty or so men and women, old and young, had originally clustered together in the line of death. Now, only ten were left.

“Are you all right, sir?” the Schutzstaffel Hauptsturmfuehrer next to him asked as the commandant wiped his face and jacket with a handkerchief.

“Yah!” he replied tersely striving to control his emotions. The filthy little Jewess could not even die decently, his pernicious mind concluded. She must have had a soft skull, he thought, for her head to explode that way. Cursing himself for his carelessness, he raised his pistol once more and took careful aim at the next person in line, a man. As the pistol recoiled in his hand, he noted with satisfaction the man’s skull exploding forward as the bullet smashed through the thin bone above the nape. That was more like it. He shot two more to satisfy himself that his technique was not flawed and then left it to the Hauptsturmfuehrer to finish the job.

The Hauptsturmfuehrer watched the commandant stride purposefully away and felt relief at his departure. Commandant Steiner, the Hauptstumfuehrer had decided long ago, was an extremely unpleasant man to be around, and it wasn’t altogether to do with his rank and the power such brought. Nor had it to do with the commandant’s alacrity when it came to disposing of Jews for they were only vermin anyway. No, it was something more. The commandant’s eyes seemed to pierce one’s soul and the Hauptsturmfuehrer found him unnerving.

Steiner, oblivious of his subordinate’s aversion to him, walked out of the compound set aside for exterminations and strode along the rain-soaked road to his office set in the block house positioned at the far end of the camp. Caged behind high wire fences on either side of the road, striped-clad inmates stared blankly out at the handsome young Waffen-SS commandant as he strode past; his arrogant swagger marking him as an elite member of the master race. An inch under six feet, he had closely cropped fair hair, a high cheek-boned face, and a lithe athletic body. He was the embodiment of the archetypal German; the quintessential Aryan superman that Hitler had envisaged would inhabit his thousand years Reich. 

Steiner, for his part, gave the emaciated, ragged, dirty internees only a perfunctory glance as nothing more was warranted for such lowlife. This was his kingdom where he alone ruled. Their fate was his to mete out when it suited him to do so. No one questioned his right. Indeed, no one in the camp could! By his very nature, he was impervious to the human suffering evident in the inmates’ faces. To him, they merely represented a disease that had to be eradicated in the name of the Third Reich. Besides, Adolf Hitler himself had deprived all Jews of German citizenship in 1935 under the Reichsbürgergesetz (Law of the Reich Citizen) Act. They were now merely subjects of the state so who were they to complain? 

They weren’t all Judes in his camp, of course, but the vast majority were. To Steiner, they represented a disposal problem, no more than that. For him, the 'final solution' only had one drawback - it could not be accomplished quickly enough. There were quotas to meet and he could not afford to fall behind for the sake of his career. However, this never-ending problem for once did not occupy his thoughts as he walked along the damp road. He had other things on his mind. 

To run a death camp was not what Sturmbannfuehrer Wolfgang Steiner had visualized in 1936 when he joined the Schutz Staffel (Protective Echelon) or SS as it was known. When he was transferred to the Totenkopfverbaende (Death’s-Head Battalion) of the Waffen-SS who were responsible for administering concentration camps, he was not pleased. However, he soon found that running a concentration camp did have certain advantages. Apart from ensuring him a continuation of life (the Russian Front, he had found, was not to be recommended), it had proved most lucrative. The gold extracted from teeth after they had been ripped from the mouths of corpses, or inmates while they were still alive, the sale of personal effects and the bribes the internees would gullibly offer to relieve their individual suffering had all enabled him to enhance his income.

Of course, some profits had to be sent to the Deutsches Bank as part of the Nazi program, but Steiner had managed to divert sufficient to suit his own purposes. He had been prudent enough to convert his Deutsche marks into gold, however. He knew that paper money issued by the Nazis would be useless when the Third Reich fell, as he knew it surely would. The Allies had already obtained a firm foothold in Europe and were inexorably advancing on Germany from the west whilst the Russians were gobbling up territory in the east. Steiner was not prepared to wait for the inevitable and had made his plans accordingly.

Entering his office, he threw himself into his leather office chair and plucked the telephone from its perch on his desk. Impatiently, he waited until a flustered operator answered.  

“Doctor Wanke!” Steiner growled, annoyed at the operator’s slow response. Perhaps a stint of crematorium duty might give the man quicker reflexes. Doctor Wanke’s hesitant voice on the other end of the line concentrated Steiner’s attention.

“Herr Doctor, the matter we discussed in my office last week. I believe it’s time to proceed,” Steiner said.

“As you wish, sir!" the man at the other end acknowledged. “When exactly?”

“Make the arrangements for Friday evening at ten o’clock. See to it that only you are in attendance. Should anyone else learn of this, you know the consequences, Doctor.”

“Until Friday then, sir,” the doctor replied. 

“Good! Friday it is then,” Steiner said and replaced the receiver. 

Doctor Wanke hung up at the other end and pondered for a while. Although he had been waiting for the call, when it came, he was full of apprehension. The threat Steiner had made was real enough. He knew full well the consequences if he divulged Friday’s arrangements. Steiner’s brutality had been witnessed by him on many occasions. Not that it bothered him as long as Steiner’s wrath was aimed at someone other than him. Then again he had no reason to cross Steiner who was paying him well enough to keep his mouth closed. Mind you, blackmail had briefly crossed his mind but he had dismissed that thought as soon as it entered his head. Steiner was not the sort of man one blackmailed if one wanted to continue living.

Steiner, for his part, sat staring out his office window for a moment before getting up and walking over to the wall mirror. He removed his black peaked hat with its death skull cap badge and silver tassle and tossed it on his desk. Sleeking his fair hair back with his hands he looked at his reflection. Staring back at him was the youngest Sturmbannfuehrer in the Nazi regime. In fact, he was twenty-two years old this very day. Satisfied with what he saw, he returned to his chair. Once again he picked up the telephone and called his subaltern.

“Have the priest, Tsana, brought to my office immediately!”

The officer at the other end acknowledged his order and Steiner replaced the receiver and leaned back in his chair. Putting his feet up on the corner of his desk, he lit a cigarette and thoughtfully pulled on it while he gazed through the large window facing him. The window itself faced away from the camp and through it Steiner could see a rainbow that had arched itself over the Bavarian countryside. Its tranquil presence did not in any way diminish the starkness of Dachau concentration camp with its network of wire, its bland brick buildings, and its smoking crematoriums. The camp itself had been the first Nazi concentration camp in Germany. Established on March 10, 1933, just five weeks or so after Adolf Hitler became chancellor, it lay on the outskirts of the town of Dachau, about 12 miles (16 kilometers) north of Munich. The camp had soon become the model and training center for all other SS-organized camps, being supplemented by about 150 branches scattered throughout southern Germany and Austria, all of which collectively were called Dachau. 

To be commandant of such a camp was considered a great honour but Steiner was unmindful of this now as he gazed out at the panorama before him. His eyes barely registered the view for he was deep in thought. It wouldn’t be long now before he left this death camp. Where to next, he wondered. What would a post-war world be like without the Nazis?  For an opportunist like him, it should still hold infinite possibilities, he supposed. That thought of change and new adventures excited him. However, he would regret leaving the life he had enjoyed under the aegis of Adolf Hitler. He knew, though, that it was time to move on and soon. 

Swinging his legs off the desk, he swung around in his chair and his eyes lit upon the portrait of his mustachioed benefactor staring out at him from the frame on the wall opposite, 

"What of you, mien Fuehrer?" he pondered. "You were so certain of our destiny. Where did it all go wrong? In Mien Kampf did you not state that fighting a war on two fronts was fatal? Your grand design, 'Operation Barbarossa', the conquest of Russia had faltered and then withered in the ice of the Russian Steppes. Charles XII of Sweden had failed to conquer Russia in the 18th century, Napoleon in the 19th century, yet you knew better, didn’t you?" he silently chided. 

"You promised to secure additional Lebensraum (“living space”) for the German people, who you contended deserved more as members of a superior race. What a fool you really are! What fools we all are! Only a madman could seriously believe that anyone would want to live in a barren place like Russia other than low-life peasants. The cold there alone could freeze a man in minutes." 

Steiner knew full well what a Russian winter could do for he had won his 'Knight Cross' at the siege of Leningrad in the winter of forty-three. Thank God he had only been stationed there for 70 of the 872 days that the siege lasted. He would find it hard, if not impossible, to feel really warmth again. His recall to Berlin in January - nine months ago - had been his saviour. A decoration, a promotion, and a subsequent posting to command Dachau Concentration Camp rapidly followed

Steiner fingered the medal around his neck and recalled how he won the decoration although he was unsure why such an act was deemed worthy of such a fuss. After all, it had been simple enough to herd the men, women, and children, eighty-three in all, into the small Russian wooden church and set fire to it. Perhaps Hitler thought that the Reich needed more heroes to encourage the rest of the population to soldier on. Whatever, it gave Steiner a certain status that was useful in his line of work. 

Hitler and he had just two things in common now, the colour of their eyes, blue, and their religion, Catholic. Like many in pre-war Germany, Steiner had thought that Hitler was God Almighty but now he no longer had any illusions about the Fuehrer. Steiner had seen and heard too much since his return to idolize the man anymore. Hitler’s star had indeed waned, Steiner had long decided, whilst his, he hoped, was still in its ascendancy. 

So you are not infallible after all, he thought mockingly as he studied the portrait of Hitler for a while longer. Finally, he swung around once more to peer out the window at the countryside beyond. Time now, he thought, to find another cause profitable to Wolfgang Steiner. The weather was clearing for the first time in days. That was good. The roads would be easier to travel. A knock on his door caused him to swing around again in his chair. 

“Enter!” he commanded and watched as two soldiers strode in dragging a third man between them.

“The priest, Tsana, Herr Oberst!” one of them said as the two men saluted

Steiner gestured with his hand to the chair before him and the guards bundled the half-conscious man into it. 

“Who ordered this?” he said, his voice edged with anger.

“Sergeant Mann, Sir!”

“I see! Tell Sergeant Mann to report to my office immediately!”

“Yes, sir!” the senior of the two guards acknowledged as they departed. Both soldiers knew what Steiner’s order meant. Sergeant Mann was in for it and no mistake!

“So, priest! What shall we do with you?” Steiner asked of the man slumped in the chair before him. It was a rhetorical question because the priest had no say in his ultimate fate.

Father Tsana stirred when he heard Steiner’s voice. By now, he did not really care any longer what they did with him as long as the beatings would stop. Both he and another interned priest had been cleaning the latrines; a slow task as they only had their hands with which to carry the excrement away. This was the Nazi’s way of trying to degrade them although it rarely worked. His older companion, Father Hartman, a man in his sixties, had eventually collapsed and the guards had then tried unsuccessfully to kick the old man back into a conscious state. Giving up in frustration, they then decided to amuse themselves. 

“Here, eat shit, you bastard!” the sergeant said. He and the others then stuffed faeces down the old man’s throat and nose until he inevitably suffocated. Tsana had tried to intervene but they beat him into submission. They would gladly have killed him as well but they had orders to keep him alive. That didn’t mean that he couldn’t be beaten, however, the Sergeant had commented. 

Now, his jaw broken, his teeth smashed, his body bruised from the poundings, Tsana no longer cared what happened to him. His faith in God could never be destroyed by such acts. However, his faith in his religion had long ago been shattered, possibly forever. Pope Pius XII’s silence, when it came to the Nazis, had at first surprised him, and then appalled him, and then finally it had disgusted him. The Pope certainly knew what was going on in Poland and throughout occupied Europe. Yet, Pope Pius XII seemed more interested in the threat of the communist influence on Catholicism rather than the Nazi scourge on mankind in general, and the Jews in particular. 

Father Tsana had seen firsthand the brutal atrocities of the Germans and if ever such a race merited condemnation, they did. Rome, however, remained mute and unfeeling. Whatever the reasons, there was surely no defense for such inertia. Lost in his despair, Steiner’s voice took a while to penetrate the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.

“‘Well, priest! Nothing to say?”

“What do you want me to say?” he whispered, his teeth and torn jawbone causing him agony as he spoke.

Looking at him, Steiner was reminded that he and Tsana bore a remarkable likeness in appearance. They were both almost six feet in height and slim in appearance. The priest however had dark hair whilst he was blond. Steiner also had a longer nose and blue eyes whilst the priest’s eyes were brown. Other than that, they could have been brothers. What a thought, Steiner surmised.

Steiner flicked open the file before him. He was already aware that the priest had been incarcerated in this camp since 1942, well before Steiner had taken over. The priest had been one of many imprisoned as a result of the German Nacht-und-Nebel-Erlass ('Night and Fog Decree'). Hitler in his ultimate wisdom had on 7th December 1941 issued this decree as a secret order under which 'persons endangering German security' in the German-occupied territories of western Europe were to be arrested and either shot or spirited away under cover of 'night and fog'. In other words, behind closed doors so such wouldn’t upset those of the German race that still had a conscience. 

German people at the time were informed that the decree had been issued in response to the increased activities of the Resistance in France. Personally, Steiner didn’t care what the reasons were. He had been busy fighting a war when 7,000 or so were caught up in the net and placed in concentration camps. Tsana had just been one of many. It wasn’t clear from the information before Steiner what the priest was accused of but it really did not matter. There didn’t have to be a reason for rounding up priests, Steiner decided.

“You were born in Cracau on 13th June, 1918. Is that correct?” As he asked the question, he noted that the priest was only three months older than he. 

“Correct!” Father Tsana whispered through swollen lips.

“Incidentally, whilst on the subject of birthdays, did you know that today is my birthday?”

Tsana peered at him through puffed eyes. “You mean you actually had a mother?”

Steiner laughed at the priest’s sarcasm. “That’s right, priest! Just like you. I’m also a Catholic just like you! What do you think of that?”

Tsana sucked in his breath and ran his tongue gently along the stumps of his broken teeth before answering, “If you believe in God, can’t you show some mercy to the poor unfortunates that are prisoners in this camp?”

Steiner responded again laughingly, “The meek shall inherit the earth. Is that it, Father?” He paused for a moment and then added contemptuously, “ I think not, Father! I think not!” 

Tsana wondered why Steiner even bothered to go through these formalities. He knew of no reason why the commandant should have an interest in him. Steiner had no one to answer to but his God, Heinrich Himmler. Therefore, the question of whether he, Father Tsana, was guilty of anything, or what his punishment should be, was not an issue.

Tsana listened and grudgingly answered Steiner’s questions until the commandant had satisfied himself that the information contained in the file was correct. Steiner then closed it and leaned back in his chair surveying the priest. “Well, priest! Is there a heaven, do you think?”

“Not for you, Steiner!” the priest said defiantly. “Not for you!”

Steiner responded again with a laugh. The priest’s lack of respect did not annoy him in the least. Rather it amused him and he smilingly responded, 

“You priests are all the same. Full of your own piety! Still, I admire courage, no matter who it is! He sat looking at Tsana for a moment longer and then bellowed, "Guards!” The men waiting outside appeared immediately.

“Take him away!”

“Back to the compound, Herr Oberst?” one asked.

“No! Get him cleaned up and have Doctor Wanke look at him!”

The two guards were taken aback by this show of compassion from Steiner. As they supported the priest one of them said, “Sergeant Mann’s outside, sir!”

Steiner’s eyes glinted as he responded, “Good! Send him in!”

The two soldiers led Tsana away and Sergeant Mann appeared. 

“You wanted to see me, sir?” 

Inwardly, the sergeant was fearful! He knew Steiner’s wrath could be lethal. It had been foolish to rough up the priest when Steiner had given orders to leave Tsana alone. Unfortunately, the sergeant’s base nature had got the better of him. Now he was about to pay for his indiscretion. Steiner’s words when they came caught him completely off balance 

“Be in my office on Friday at Midnight! I have a job for you!”

“Certainly, sir!” Sergeant Mann replied as relief flooded over him.