“I feel nothing, save what is already in me. There’s nothing here to feel. It is almost as if this awful place has surrendered every single bit of emotion possible, leaving a nothingness that defies description. Can you feel that nothingness, Kameraden?”
The silence remained unbroken, but each man could understand what Knocke meant.
There was a vacuum in Birkenau; a space, an absence unlike any other in their experience.
It was tangible.
“God has deserted this place.”
It was Haefali who had spoken.
Knocke opened out his hands in acknowledgement of the statement.
“In truth, I know nothing of God any more, Albrecht. He deserted me and mine many years ago. There’ll be some who speak of him here… but perhaps he has no place here… or perhaps he should always have a place here… I don’t know.”
There were a few rumbles of agreement from the gathering, mainly from the French side.
“I really don’t know any more. This place is beyond my wildest imagination… that my fellow man… my countrymen even… could bring this place into being.”
He considered his next statement carefully.
“This place was brought into being by sane minds. Qualified minds designed its machinery, professional minds devised its systems of work, skilled minds oversaw construction of its buildings, and railway lines… medical minds… there’s a thing, isn’t it?… Scheisse!… medical minds that we’ve always treasured as exceptionally intelligent… compassionate… caring… such men devised and conducted such vileness upon fellow human beings as to be unimaginable… right here… in this awful… so very awful place!”
The silence was oppressive as he settled himself to speak further.
“I don’t know how that happened. Maybe each of them in turn thought ‘I’m just doing my job’. Maybe they didn’t understand what they were actually part of, although those who designed the ovens cannot have that excuse… nor can a number of the other responsible parties.”
Knocke wiped his hand across his face once more.
“And then there are those who ran the camp, enforced its rules and practices, who were responsible for the day to day operation of something that we now suspect destroyed nearly a million people.”
He touched his Knight’s Cross gently.
“I once wore my old uniform with pride. The people that oversaw this horror wore the same uniform.”
Again the German officers railed at his comments, forcing him to stop and hold his hands up for quiet.
“Yes, kameraden… they did. That’s what the world sees, that what’s the world knows, so therefore it’s true.”
He looked at the French officers very deliberately.
“I am SS… was SS… this you all know. As far as I’m concerned, I fought an honourable war… as hard as I could… with every weapon at my disposal.”
Again he turned around, displaying his back, inviting those behind him to look at what he was seeing.
“Those who were stationed here were obeying their orders, but we all know that some orders simply shouldn’t be obeyed.”
He wished he had the intelligence folder to use, simply as a prop to focus their attention, but it was still in the staff car.
He produced his pistol instead.
Brandishing the Walther P38, he suddenly realised their faces had taken on a collectively horrified expression.
Knocke was suddenly carried away with the moment, and the pistol became more than a prop to his words.
“Do as you are ordered or I’ll shoot you!”
He pointed the gun at Haefali and spoke deliberately.
“Herd those prisoners into the chambers or I’ll shoot you. Someone else will do your job anyway.”
The pistol moved to Oscar Durand.
“Choose those who’ll live and those who will die. Someone else will do your job anyway.”
The next target was Ettiene Truffaux, a highly decorated French Major from Haefali’s regiment.
“Pour the gas canister into the chamber or I’ll shoot you. Someone else’ll do it anyway.”
The gun moved quickly to Felix Bach, ex-Totenkopf Division.
“Execute those prisoners or I’ll shoot you. Someone else will do it anyway.”
Knocke took a purposeful step closer.
“Execute those prisoners or I’ll shoot you and you’ll have died for nothing more than principle.”
The barrel of his weapon was now almost in Bach’s face.
“Execute them or die! I’ll shoot you where you stand, you bastard! Execute them or die!”
“Sir… Ernst!”
Haefali’s hand gently took hold of Knocke’s arm and brought the weapon slowly downwards, allowing him to get a hold of himself, his attempt to reflect what might have happened having taken hold of him to such an extent that he had forgotten his surroundings.
He holstered his weapon carefully and grabbed Bach by the shoulder.
“My apologies, Felix. I really don’t know what came over me.”
The tears were streaming down Bach’s face, his lip faintly twitching, which many put down to the fact that he had until recently had a close up view of the business end of a Walther pistol.
Knocke held out his hands in supplication.
“Apologies, kameraden.”
He shook his head.
“I’ve no excuse… it is no excuse, I think.”
He changed direction quickly.
“It is no excuse… not for me.”
He patted Haefali’s shoulder by way of a thank you for his intervention, and moved around his officers, both French and German, as he spoke.
“I would like to think that I possess enough moral courage… enough honour… enough human decency… that were I placed in the situation of being given one of those orders, I would refuse it… and accept the consequences.”
He stopped at Durand and patted his back.
“I think we all would, wouldn’t we, Oscar?”
“Oui, mon Général.”
Moving on, Knocke found himself by Truffaux and he extended his hand, tentatively grasping the man’s arm, being none too familiar with the new arrival.
“We’d all like to think we would act with courage and decency if it came to it, wouldn’t we, Commandant Truffaux?”
“Most certainly, mon Général.”
“But each man will only know his resolve when the moment comes.”
He returned to the front of his men and deliberately placed his hands on his hips.
“I would like to think that I’d have the courage to stand by my principles and say no… even though not doing so wouldn’t spare a life… just extend it by a few seconds and deprive me of mine…”
He shook his head.
“…but I don’t know.”
Knocke knew his words were going home.
“It may be that I’d have acted as these men here did… sorry, some of these men, for I have no doubt that sadistic and cruel men were in the majority that ruled here.”
“Had I been transferred here, might I now stand accused as the likes of Hoess, who was in command of this camp, stands accused.”
“What I do know is quite simple really… and remember I’d heard rumours of this place, so I stand more guilty than those who knew nothing of the camps and their sinister purpose.”
He relaxed his posture and scratched his thinning hair.
“Yes, I’m guilty of wearing the same uniform as those who commanded here. I’m guilty of ignoring the signs, the rumours of the existence of places such as this. I’m guilty of being a soldier who fought for the regime that brought this into being. I’m guilty of being a German!”
He addressed the German contingent directly.
“Yes, I’m guilty of wearing the same uniform, which to me always meant membership of an elite force of soldiers who had no equals in combat.”