UNFREE ASSOCIATIONS

8. Terror From a Smuggled Letter

46 8 Terror From a Smuggled Letter During the spring of l941, the general mood grew even more tense. German editorials and speeches became more belligerent, suspicious and moreslurringtowardstheneutralcountries.SincethepactwiththeSoviets (that led to the carving up of Poland), the big neighbors, Germany and Russia, had muffled their propaganda against each other, but old slogans were warmed up as Jews were blamed for the “imperialistic” moves of Russia in the Baltic and Balkan states as well as into Finland. At night, I heard large formations of airplanes moving eastward and motorized convoys of military units rattled along the roads of Prague. I lay awake wondering, preoccupied. On June 22, the German offensive against Russia started and changed the general atmosphere. Research documents available after the war revealed that the Soviet intelligence service was informed about the preparation of the German army to invade their country, but that Stalin had refused to accept these reports and had allegedly become enraged when they were mentioned. The news kept us in great suspense. In the office we tried to exchange information and discuss opinions whenever we were free. A few of us still had marginal connections with the Czech underground, which was in communication with England. We all hoped that any weakening of the German position, like a repeat of a Napoleonic adventure in Russia, would bring an end to the German desire of conquering more countries. However, any frustration occurring in Nazi headquarters predictably triggered an enforced outburst of violence directed against us. The first time I heard the name Auschwitz was in September of 1941. Robert Redlich, an officer of the Jewish Community Center in Olomouc, came on official business to Prague and brought with him a smuggled letter describing the situation in a newly developed concentration camp 47 in a former Polish village, Osviecim, which the Germans called Auschwitz. The letter described the early days of the camp. Inmates, mainly criminals, were brought there from prisons and concentration camps in Germany and were appointed as KAPOs to supervise work or to act as leaders of camp sectors.The first transports had brought younger people, mainly Poles, who were used for heavy work, as Herman Langbein (1972) reports. Many of these early inmates grew sick or weak after a short time and were “freed from their suffering” by injections of poison. The gas chambers were not yet finished, but there were rumors about the purpose of mysterious buildings being constructed in the countryside adjacent to the first camp. They included structures that were described as crematoriums . The tenor of this letter was a cry of warning, an appeal from a world of deep desperation. It was impossible for us to believe that this camp was being constructed for the purpose of mass killing, as implied in this letter.The anonymous writer felt it a duty to convey the information beyond the electric fences that enclosed that devilish construction site. Willy Schönfeld and I were sitting in our office listening in silence to the contents of the letter, at times staring at Robert in disbelief. With doors and windows carefully closed, we discussed the terrible news in shaking, low voices. Willy was pale; I was horrified at the news, and recall the sinking feeling in my stomach reaching a nearly unbearable intensity. In closing, the writer of that letter begged the receiver to spread the information so that everybody would know what to expect at the end of a deportation transport. Robert felt it was his duty to discuss this letter with the leaders of the Jewish community of Prague. We were sure it would create an insoluble dilemma. Keeping this information secret was a heavy responsibility while revealing even part of it could lead to an uncontrollable panic. We heard nothing about Robert Redlich’s meeting with the management of the community, only that he soon returned to his hometown. RumorscirculatedaboutpendingdeportationsofJewsfromPragueto an unknown destination. Our already severely restricted living conditions seemed to us suddenly quite bearable if only we could remain.The threat of deportation always hung menacingly over us. In September of 1941, I remember walking on the main Boulevard in the center of Prague early in the evening. Lights were dimmed as part of the anti-aircraft defense. I met a former neighbor, a highly respected lawyer of my hometown. He Terror from a Smuggled Letter 48 Unfree Associations had been tipped off that his name might...