The Austrian: Book Two

  The Austrian

  A War Criminal’s Story

  Book 2

  Copyright 2015 Ellie Midwood

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  My whole life long, I was ceaselessly in need of love and support, though I let this show as little as possible.

  Ernst Kaltenbrunner

  Chapter 1

  Vienna, February 1939

  “Thank you, Herr Minister. I do appreciate your trust in my abilities,” I said into the phone to my immediate superior – Arthur Seyss-Inquart – not able to conceal my beaming expression. Otto, my closest friend, who didn’t seem to mind spending all his free time in my relatively new office and even in my chair, (in which he had positioned himself very comfortably), gave me a wide reciprocal smile. “This matter of organizing a wide net of the intelligence service in the East is of utter importance to me as well. Jawohl. No, Herr Minister, it’s no bother at all. I would be more than happy to devote extra hours of my time to personally organizing and supervising everything. Jawohl. He said that?”

  I snapped my fingers at Otto to attract his attention and excitedly pointed at the portrait of the Führer, which occupied a big part of the wall. Otto gave me an inquisitive look, pointing at the portrait and back at me, smiling. I started nodding and smiled wider.

  “Jawohl, Herr Minister. If my reports please the Führer, it pleases me endlessly as well. Allow me to thank you too, Herr Minister. Jawohl. Heil Hitler!”

  I hung up the phone and jumped from the top of the table to grab Otto in a bear hug.

  “The Führer expressed his utmost satisfaction with how I organized the intelligence net, Otto! He said it himself to Seyss-Inquart, when the Minister was in Berlin!”

  Otto patted my back in return, all my emotions mirrored on his face. Right after the Anschluss of Austria, when I was granted the position of the State Secretary of Security, everyone started joking on our account, asking if we happened to be twins, separated at birth. We did look somewhat alike; two giants over six feet tall with faces marred by mensur scars, the result of our dueling years in the fraternity.

  Otto followed me like a shadow, and our colleagues quite often remarked in jest that if you wanted to find Untersturmführer Otto Skorzeny, all you had to do was find Gruppenführer Dr. Ernst Kaltenbrunner. Or vice versa. They weren’t far from the truth, because how could I possibly reject my friend’s company, even though in the eyes of others he was merely my subordinate, standing far lower in rank than myself, when it was him who made all this happen in the first place? Had he not decided to side with me, the leader of the Austrian SS, against Reinhard Heydrich, the Chief of the Reich Secret Service, I would not be here in this office. Heydrich did everything in his power to make my appointment impossible, but he couldn’t possibly win against two Austrians like myself and Otto.

  “Of course he did!” Otto followed me with his smiling eyes as I started pacing on the carpet in front of the table in my excitement. “How could he not? Look at the infrastructure you built with your own hands in less than a year, from scratch!”

  “He said that he finds it is functioning much better than Heydrich’s RSHA!” I looked at the portrait reverently once again. “He said that Heydrich’s office is a bureaucratic mess, and that the one that we have in Austria is much more to his liking!”

  “I say, it’s a reason to celebrate.” One of the many things which we shared in common was that we were always up for a toast. Otto ducked under my table, looking for a bottle of champagne, which I always stored in my bottom drawer. Sometimes several bottles, actually. Sometimes I drank them all alone, too, but that only happened when I was in one of my gloomy moods. Now I couldn’t be happier, until I saw what Otto had fished out of the drawer together with a bottle of Dom Perignon. “What is this?”

  “It’s nothing,” I replied quickly, almost breaking into a cold sweat for reasons even I couldn’t understand, and I rushed to grab the file out of his hands. “Put it back!”

  But Otto jumped to his feet, circling the table in an attempt to get away from me and to read the papers in the file at the same time. I hated his curiosity and cheekiness at moments like this, even though I would have done the same in his place: taunting each other was one of our favorite pastimes.

  “Who is this?” Otto was extremely successful in escaping my grip, quickly changing his position from one side of the table to the other without having to lift his eyes from the paper. “She’s pretty!”

  “Otto, give it back! I’m serious!” I tried to grab his uniform jacket by charging at him over the table, but the bastard jumped back with almost cat-like agility.

  “Annalise Friedmann, nationality – German, date of birth – December 26th 1920, place of birth – Berlin, Prussia. Occupation – dancer, Reich National Association of Fine Arts, Berlin. A ballerina!” Otto looked up at me with the widest roguish smile. “What is it, your new process of selection for your new lady friends?”

  “No, it is not what you think.” I finally managed to grab the file from his hands and put it in my top drawer, which I didn’t forget to lock right after. Otto was still looking at me inquisitively. I knew that he wouldn’t let this pass, and that I had to give him at least some sort of credible explanation. It was curious that I couldn’t even explain it to myself, why I had requested the file from the Berlin office in the first place.

  “Well, what is it then?”

  “Nothing, I said.” I looked away, hiding both hands in my pockets. “Just a girl I met in Berlin last month, that’s all.”

  “And you have a file on her because…” Otto made a motion with his hands, which clearly implied that he needed a little more explanation.

  “I was just curious about her, that’s all.”

  “Curious?” Otto arched his eyebrow skeptically.

  “Well… yes, it’s nothing, really. Just forget about it. We wanted to toast my success, you forgot?” I reached for the bottle, trying to switch the topic.

  “On no, you’re not.”

  “I’m not what?” I asked innocently, working on the cork.

  “You’re not getting out of this so easily. Why do you really have a file on this girl? I’ve never seen any other files like this in your table.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be going through my table at all, has that thought ever occurred to you?” I asked with obvious sarcasm as I popped the bottle open.

  “No, never.” Otto held his glass to me. “So, where did you meet this girl?”

  “Oh, it was so amusing.” I filled my own glass, chuckling at the memories. “It was her wedding day, or evening actually. She had just got married to one of Heydrich’s employees from SD, and their driver almost crashed into my car. I only spoke two words with her, that’s all.”

  “Why the file then?”

  I shrugged. “I told you, I was just curious about her.”

  The truth was that I had asked the RSHA Amt I, or the Office of Staff and Personnel, to send me a copy of the file of Standartenführer Friedmann’s new wife just because I wanted to see her face again, even if it was just on a picture. I had no idea why I kept thinking about her every single day since that short meeting, or why I kept replaying it in my mind; her smile, her voice, her delicate hand in mine. There was just something so different about her from all the other women I’d met in my life that I was onto the third day of staring at her photograph and trying to understand what it was I was feeling.

  “I don’t blame you.” Otto’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “She’s a very pretty gir
l. I would be curious too.”

  I gave him a menacing look, and he burst out laughing.

  “Don’t worry, I would never steal your new girl, especially one you’re so infatuated with.”

  “I’m not infatuated with her,” I grumbled in response. “I spoke to her for no longer than a minute. Besides, she’s married.”

  “And a Prussian, too,” Otto concluded as he sipped more of his champagne.

  “If she was born in Prussia, it doesn’t automatically make her Prussian.”

  “A typical Prussian.” Otto insisted confidently. “I know one when I see one. Very pretty to look at, very Aryan, but… that’s where everything ends.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Prussian women are only pleasure for the eye. However, if you want to make her into your new lady friend – don’t. Find yourself a nice Austrian girl, or a Bavarian at least. Those Prussians have the passion of a dead cat in bed. I doubt you’ll find it enjoyable.”

  “A girl like her would never be like a dead…” I caught myself mid-sentence and, under Otto’s amused stare, continued on a more leveled tone. “I’m not going to make her into my new lady friend anyway.”

  “Certainly, whatever you say.” Otto chuckled.

  _______________

  Nuremberg, April 1946

  “Whatever we say, it won’t matter.” I took another bite of the tasteless bread and gave Albert Speer a faint smile. We always huddled together in the furthest corner of the canteen during lunch, when the court adjourned for recess. “They almost refused to acknowledge the fact that it was Otto and I who saved the Austrian president Miklas during the Anschluss, when Heydrich’s people were ready to shoot him. I understand that one saved life doesn’t account for millions of lost ones, but still…”

  “Still hurts your feelings?” Speer tried not to chuckle too obviously. I gave him a pointed look. “You’re much too sensitive for a former Gestapo commander, if I do say so myself.”

  “So are you, for the former leader of the Labor Front.”

  “I’m an architect,” he said, rather defensively.

  “And I’m a lawyer. What does that have to do with our current situation?”

  Speer lowered his eyes and sniffled quietly. “How did we get into all this? Just for the sake of opportunity?”

  “It seemed like a good idea back then.” I shrugged with one shoulder and took another bite of my bread. “The pay was good, the work wasn’t hard, and the uniform was very nice.”

  Albert laughed.

  “Who knew that we would start killing people in masses after just a few years?” I finished my thought, and we both went quiet.

  “I just wanted to fulfill my dream and build new beautiful cities. Hitler liked my vision, and he was going to fund every one of my new projects. That’s all that mattered to me.”

  “And I wanted to sit in the office without anyone bothering me, make sure that my parents had a peaceful retirement and wouldn’t need anything for the rest of their lives, raise my children and take care of their future… and then retire myself, go to some farm near Linz and live the rest of my life there, in peace and quiet.”

  “Didn’t work out too well for the both of us, did it?” Speer chuckled sadly once again.

  “No, it didn’t.”

  We ate in silence for some time, until Albert asked quietly, “Do you think it would have turned out differently for us, if… you remember, in July 1944… when I saw you with Otto, during that night…”

  We both stole quick glances at the MPs by the wall and at the table next to us, by which Jodl and Keitel were sitting. Speer lowered his voice even more.

  “What if they succeeded then? The Wehrmacht resistance, together with von Stauffenberg? Maybe we should have helped them then? Offered our people?”

  “Nothing would have changed. We would have only been shot together with them, because all the fine structure, all the RSHA which I had such control over, according to the Prosecution, they wouldn’t follow my orders. And neither would people under your command. They swore their loyalty to the Führer, and would remain loyal to him to the end.”

  “Maybe we should have at least tried…”

  I sighed heavily and shook my head. “What’s the point of arguing about it now?”

  _______________

  Vienna, February 1939

  “Are you arguing with me?” Heydrich’s high-pitched voice sounded even more irritating on the phone. I cringed involuntarily.

  “No, Herr Gruppenführer, I’m merely pointing out that now that we’re of the same rank you can’t really give me any orders,” I answered, not without pleasure.

  For about thirty seconds all I could hear was his heavy breathing on the other end, during which he was probably doing his breathing exercises so as not to explode into a string of cursing, like he always used to do when I was his subordinate. I was savoring the moment, studying my nails with a grin. It was unfortunate that Otto wasn’t here; he would definitely have been glued to the phone as well, listening to every word and giggling silently. After another second I realized that Heydrich’s attempt at breathing exercises didn’t have any effect.

  “Kaltenbrunner, do you want me to call Reichsführer so he can give you an order? Or the Führer himself, maybe? Would that be more acceptable for you, you Austrian piece of… ” he stopped himself at the last second. I hoped that he couldn’t hear me sneer; I could tell that he was livid at this point.

  “It’s not necessary, Gruppenführer Heydrich.” I finally decided to stop provoking him; after all, if it did get to Himmler’s ears, I doubted he would take my side instead of his favorite protégé’s. “I understand your unhealthy obsession with your Gestapo, but I do have really important work to do, work that actually matters. Foreign intelligence is taking up all my time at the moment, so I am truly sorry to report that I can’t accept your invitation.”

  “Kaltenbrunner, I will call Reichsführer. Right now!” the infuriated Chief of the RSHA shrieked into the phone. I held the receiver away from my ear, not sure if more screams would follow. Thankfully, he spared me.

  “Gruppenführer, why do you even need me in Berlin? Don’t you have your own people, who used to teach my people, just a year ago, their… craft?” I put as much contempt as I could into the last word.

  “It became apparent that you surpassed my people in their craft, as you call it, Gruppenführer.” Heydrich sneered. “I was very impressed with your personal accomplishment in the field as well, my dear colleague. And to think that only a year ago you didn’t even want to hear about the Gestapo. It looks like you have a taste for it now, doesn’t it?”

  While he was still my superior, he did force me to be present during interrogations. I even developed my own scheme every time some of his Berlin ‘leather coats’ appeared at my door to request my attendance during cases that ‘demanded special attention.’ I would dismiss them, reach for the hardest liquor I had stored under my table and try to reach that balanced state, which I had mastered almost to perfection: that is, when I could walk and talk without staggering and slurring, but was still drunk enough to sit through the whole process, which sometimes took several hours.

  I never participated in the interrogation procedure myself, but I stepped out every now and then to take another hearty swig from the flask that I always had in my pocket. Sometimes, when the interrogated person was especially stubborn – or innocent – in an attempt to elicit the truth, the ‘leather coats’ would roll up their sleeves and really show everything their sick inventive minds were capable of. All the alcohol in the world wasn’t enough then. I could have never imagined that so many gruesome, gut-wrenching things could be done to a human body.

  I was somewhat able to sit through it when they were tormenting young men, but one time they brought an old university professor in. He had admitted right away that he was indeed hiding a Jewish family in his basement, and that he had helped many others with money to cross the border. He was smiling apologeti
cally at me from under his grey beard, with his kind eyes framed by round glasses, explaining that he couldn’t refuse them, because they had two little girls with them, and the girls were hungry. He said that they loved the apple strudels that he brought them after work best of all, and that he was teaching them about the world and Switzerland, where they were supposed to go soon.

  I still remember how I jerked in my chair when, without warning, one of the Gestapo agents hit him in his face; one time, then another, breaking his glasses and nose in one violent blow.

  “Jew lover! Traitor of the Reich!!! Worthless pig!” He kept screaming, oblivious to the old man’s moans and his pleas to stop.

  I finally came to my senses and pulled the swinging agent back by the scruff of his neck.

  “Stop it!” I shook him violently, hardly restraining myself from hitting him in return. “Why would you do that?! He has already confessed to everything!”

  The agent seemed both confused and intimidated by my reaction. He froze in my hands, slightly leaning his head away from me, just in case. “To teach him a lesson, Herr Brigadeführer. Gruppenführer Heydrich’s instructions. So the others will know better.”

  “Who are the others?!” I yelled at his face. “You’re taking him straight to the camp! Who, besides the other internees, is going to see him?! Who is he going to tell?!”

  “I don’t know, Herr Brigadeführer. Gruppenführer Heydrich’s orders…”

  That’s all that they seemed to know: Gruppenführer Heydrich’s orders. Beat them to a pulpy mess and kill everyone that goes against you. I got rid of them, the Berlin lot, as soon as I could. I wish that I didn’t have to admit that my own volatile temper contributed, but one case with a communist leader was one I never felt sorry about, to be truthful.

  He was feisty to the point of absurdness and kept throwing insults like a cornered dog with snapping teeth, in an effort to at least get them into someone’s flesh before dying. He wasn’t a perfect citizen to say the least, and his criminal record would put any notorious thug to shame. Drunk and disorderly, multiple aggravated assaults and rapes didn’t even make the top of the list. The communist, mad with fury, decided to get smart with me, too, and thought that spitting at my uniform as soon as I approached him and calling me a son of a whore was a wise move.