In the summer, the hurried, belated evacuation of KL Lublin had caused us a lot of concern: the Soviets had taken the installations intact, with the warehouses full, grist for the mill of their atrocity propaganda. Since the end of August, their forces had been camping on the Vistula, but it was obvious they wouldn’t linger there. Measures had to be taken. The evacuation of the camps and the subcamps of the Auschwitz complex, should the need arise, fell under the responsibility of Obergruppenführer Ernst Schmauser, the HSSPF for Military District VIII, which included Upper Silesia; the operations, Brandt explained to me, would be conducted by the camp personnel. My task would be to ensure that priority was given to the evacuation of the utilizable workforce, in good condition, to be put back to use within the Reich. After my Hungarian tribulations, I was on my guard: “What will my authority be?” I asked Brandt. “Can I give the necessary orders?” He eluded the question: “Obergruppenführer Schmauser has full authority. If you see that the camp personnel aren’t cooperating in the right spirit, refer to him and he’ll give the necessary orders.”—“What if I have problems with the Obergruppenführer?”—“You won’t have any problems with the Obergruppenführer. He’s an excellent National Socialist. Anyway, you’ll be in contact with the Reichsführer or me.” I knew from experience that this was a feeble guarantee. But I had no choice.
The possibility of an enemy advance threatening a concentration camp had been raised by the Reichsführer on June 17, 1944, in a directive titled Fall-A, “Plan A,” which granted the HSSPF of the region, in case of crisis, extensive powers over camp personnel. So if Schmauser understood the importance of preserving the maximum quantity of labor, things might just possibly unfold correctly. I went to see him at his HQ in Breslau. He was a man of the older generation, he must have been about fifty or fifty-five, severe, stiff, but professional. The evacuation plan for the camps, he explained, fell within the general framework of the ARLZ retreat strategy: Auflockerung-Raümung-Lähmung-Zerstörung (“Dismantling-Evacuation-Immobilization-Destruction”), formulated at the end of 1943 “and applied with so much success in the Ukraine and in Byelorussia, where the Bolsheviks not only found no housing or food, but couldn’t even, in certain districts like Novgorod, recover even a single potentially useful human being.” District VIII had promulgated the order to carry out ARLZ on September 19. With this in view, sixty-five thousand Häftlinge had already been evacuated to the Altreich, including all the Polish and Russian inmates, who were liable to present a danger in the rear in case of enemy approach. Sixty-seven thousand inmates remained, of whom thirty-five thousand were still working in the factories of Upper Silesia and neighboring regions. Already in October, Schmauser had entrusted the plans for the final evacuation as well as the last two phases of ARLZ to his liaison officer, Major der Polizei Boesenberg; I would see to the details with him, while keeping in mind that only Gauleiter Bracht, in his capacity as Reichskommissar for Defense of the Gau, could make the decision to implement the plans. “You understand,” Schmauser declared in conclusion, “we all know how important the preservation of the labor potential is. But for us, and for the Reichsführer too, questions of security are still top priority. Such an enemy human mass, within our lines, represents a formidable risk, even if they’re not armed. Sixty-seven thousand inmates is almost seven divisions: imagine seven enemy divisions roaming free behind our troops during an offensive! In October, as you may know, we had an uprising in Birkenau, among the Jews of the Sonderkommando. Fortunately it was brought under control, but we lost some men and one of the crematoriums was dynamited. Imagine that: if they had been able to link up with the Polish partisans constantly prowling around the camp, they could have caused incalculable damage, allowed thousands of inmates to escape! And since August, the Americans come to bomb the IG Farben factory, and each time, inmates take advantage of it to try to escape. For the final evacuation, if it takes place, we must do everything we can to prevent such a situation from occurring again. We’ll have to keep our eyes open.” I understood this point of view very well, but I was afraid of the practical consequences that might result from it. Boesenberg’s briefing didn’t do much to reassure me. On paper, his plan had been meticulously prepared, with precise maps for all the evacuation routes; but Boesenberg harshly criticized Sturmbannführer Bär, who had refused to participate in consultations about the development of this plan (a final administrative reorganization, at the end of November, had left the former baker as Kommandant of the recombined camps I and II, as well as Standortältester of the three camps and of all the Nebenlager); Bär had given as pretext that the HSSPF had no authority over the camp, which was technically true until Fall-A was declared, and he would only accept to report to Amtsgruppe D. A close, flexible cooperation of the authorities in charge, during an evacuation, didn’t look very likely. Furthermore—and this worried me even more after my experiences in October and November—Boesenberg’s plan anticipated an evacuation of the camps on foot, with the inmates having to walk between fifty-five and sixty-three kilometers before being put on trains in Gleiwitz and Loslau. This plan was logicaclass="underline" the war situation anticipated by the plan wouldn’t allow full use of the railroads close to the front; in any case the rolling stock was desperately scarce (in all of Germany, only some two hundred thousand cars were left, a loss of more than 70 percent of the railway equipment in two months). The evacuation of German civilians, who had priority, also had to be considered, along with foreign workers and war prisoners. On December 21, Gauleiter Bracht had promulgated a complete U-Plan/Treckplan for the province, incorporating into it Boesenberg’s plan, according to which the inmates of the KL, for security reasons, would have priority for crossing the Oder, the main bottleneck on the evacuation routes. Once again, on paper it looked fine, but I knew what could result from a forced march in the middle of winter, without any preparation; what’s more, the Jews of Budapest had left in good health, whereas here we would have exhausted, weakened, undernourished, and poorly dressed Häftlinge, in a panic situation that, even if it were well planned, could easily degenerate into a rout. I questioned Boesenberg at length on the key points: he assured me that before departure, warm clothing and additional blankets would be distributed, and that stores of provisions would be prepositioned on the routes. One couldn’t do any better, he asserted. I had to agree he was probably right.
At Auschwitz, at the Kommandantur, I met Sturmbannführer Kraus, a liaison officer sent by Schmauser with an SD Sonderkommando, and set up in the camp as the head of a “Liaison and Transition Office.” This Kraus, a pleasant, competent young officer, whose neck and left ear bore traces of severe burns, explained to me that he was mainly responsible for the “Immobilization” and “Destruction” phases: he especially had to ensure that the extermination installations and the warehouses didn’t fall intact into the hands of the Russians. The responsibility for the implementation of the evacuation order, when it was given, fell to Bär. Bär received me somewhat unpleasantly; obviously to him I was yet another bureaucrat from the outside who was coming to hinder his work. He struck me with his piercing, anxious eyes, a fleshy nose, a thin but curiously sensual mouth; his thick, wavy hair was carefully combed back with brilliantine, like a Berlin dandy’s. I thought him astonishingly dull and narrow-minded, even more than Höss who at least kept the flair of a former Freikorps soldier. Taking advantage of my rank, I reprimanded him severely for his lack of open cooperation with the services of the HSSPF. He retorted with an ill-concealed arrogance that Pohl fully supported his position. “When Fall-A is declared, I will obey the orders of Obergruppenführer Schmauser. Until then, I report to Oranienberg alone. You have no authority to give me orders.”—“When Fall-A is declared,” I replied angrily, “it will be too late to make up for your incompetence. I warn you that in my report to the Reichsführer I will hold you personally responsible for all excessive losses.” My threats seemed to have no effect on him; he listened to me in silence, with barely hidden contempt.
Bär assigned me an office in the Kommandantur in Birkenau, and I had Obersturmführer Elias and one of my new subordinates, Untersturmführer Darius, come from Oranienburg. I took my quarters at the Haus der Waffen-SS; they gave me the same room as during my first visit, a year and a half before. The weather was horrible—cold, damp, fickle. The whole region lay beneath snow, a thick layer of it, often dusted with the soot from the mines and factory chimneys, a dirty gray lace. In the camp it was almost black, packed down by the footsteps of thousands of inmates, and mixed with mud frozen by frost. Violent snow squalls came down without warning from the Beskids and for twenty minutes or so smothered the camp under a white, swirling veil, before disappearing with the same swiftness, leaving everything immaculate for a few moments. In Birkenau only one chimney was still smoking, in fits and starts, the Krema IV, which was being kept active to dispose of the inmates who died in the camp; Krema III was in ruins since the October uprising, and the other two, following Himmler’s instructions, were partially dismantled. The new construction zone had been abandoned and most of the barracks removed, and the vast, empty terrain left to the snow; the problems of overpopulation had been solved by the preliminary evacuations. When the clouds lifted on rare occasions, the blue-tinted line of the Beskids appeared behind the geometric rows of the barracks: and the camp, beneath the snow, seemed as if peaceful and tranquil. I went almost every day to inspect the different satellite camps, Günthergrube, Fürstergrube, Tschechowitz, Neu Dachs, the little camps of Gleiwitz, to check the state of the preparations. The long, flat roads were almost deserted, scarcely disturbed by Wehrmacht trucks; I would come home at night under a dark sky, a heavy, gray mass; beyond it, snow fell sometimes like a sheet on the distant villages, and beyond that a delicate sky, blue and pale yellow, with just a few clouds of muted purple, rimmed by the light of the setting sun, colored the snow and the ice of the marshes that soak the Polish earth. The night of December 31, the Haus organized a quiet celebration for the officers passing through and some camp officers: people sang melancholy carols, the men drank slowly and spoke in low voices; everyone understood it was the last New Year’s Eve of the war, and that it wasn’t very likely the Reich would survive till the next one. I found Dr. Wirths there, profoundly depressed, he had sent his family back to Germany; and I met Untersturmführer Schurz, the new head of the Politische Abteilung, who treated me with much more deference than his Kommandant. I talked for a long time with Kraus; he had served several years in Russia, until he was seriously wounded in Kursk, where he had just barely managed to drag himself out of his burning tank; after his convalescence, he had been assigned to the Southeast SS District, in Breslau, and he had ended up on Schmauser’s staff. This officer, who bore the same first names, Franz Xaver, as another Kraus, a well-known Catholic theologian from the previous century, gave me the impression of being a serious man, open to others’ opinions, but fanatically determined to see his mission through; although he said he understood my aims, he maintained that no inmate should, naturally, fall alive into the hands of the Russians, and thought that these two constraints were not incompatible. He was probably right in principle, but for my part I was worried—rightly so, as we will see—that overly severe orders would rouse the brutality of the camp guards, made up in this sixth year of the war from the dregs of the SS, men too old or too sick to serve at the front, Volksdeutschen who barely spoke German, veterans suffering from psychiatric disorders but deemed fit for service, alcoholics, drug addicts, degenerates clever enough to have avoided the punitive battalion or the firing squad. Many officers were hardly any better than their men: with the enormous expansion, this last year, of the system of KLs, the WVHA had been forced to recruit just about anyone, to promote notoriously incompetent subalterns, to reappoint officers who had been cashiered for serious offenses, or to appoint people no one else wanted. Hauptsturmführer Drescher, an officer I also met that night, confirmed me in my pessimistic outlook. Drescher directed the branch of the Morgen commission still operating in the camp, and had seen me once with his superior in Lublin; that night, in an alcove set a little back from the restaurant dining room, he opened up to me quite frankly about the investigations under way. The case against Höss, which was nearly wrapped up in October, had suddenly collapsed in November, despite the testimony of a female inmate, an Austrian prostitute Höss had seduced and then tried to kill by locking her up in a disciplinary cell of the PA. After his transfer to Oranienburg at the end of 1943, Höss had left his family in the Kommandant’s house, forcing his successive replacements to take quarters elsewhere; he had only finally moved them the previous month, probably because of the Russian threat, and it was common knowledge, in the camp, that Frau Höss had required four whole trucks to carry their belongings. Drescher was appalled, but Morgen had come up against Höss’s protectors. The investigations were continuing, but concerned only small fry. Wirths had joined us, and Drescher went on talking without being bothered by the doctor’s presence; obviously, he wasn’t telling him anything new. Wirths was worried about the evacuation: despite Boesenberg’s plan, no measures had been taken in the Stammlager or in Birkenau to prepare rations or warm clothing for the journey. I too was worried.