The Austrian: A War Criminal's Story Read online

  “I know you want to touch them, but trust me, you’ll have plenty of time to play with them for the next hour. Let me undress you first.”

  Melita lifted her hips and took her dress off over her legs. I swallowed involuntarily when I saw that under the dress she was wearing extremely short undergarments. Almost like one of those women on Hannes’s pictures. I grinned with a corner of my mouth.

  Melita sat on top of my lap and covered my lips with hers, teasing me with her tongue and slightly biting me in between gentle kisses. I started stroking her bare legs, so smooth and so perfect under my hands, as she unbuttoned my shirt, following her fingers with her soft wet lips. After getting rid of my shirt, Melita took my hand in hers again, tasted my fingertips and lowered it back to her chest.

  “Lay on top of me.” She lowered herself on the bed and slightly tugged on my shoulder. “Good. Back to your favorite body part. Now this is how you should be touching it.”

  Smiling in the most provocative manner, Melita moved her hand on top of mine, gently massaging her breast and then firmly squeezed her erect nipple between my fingers.

  “See, how hard it’s getting?”

  I nodded several times, suddenly forgetting all words. I was so mesmerized with her body and what it was doing to me that I could spend an eternity in bed with her.

  “Kiss it.” Melita put her hand on the back of my neck, lowering my head to her chest. “Not so gentle now, you can do it a little harder… yes… bite it slightly…”

  I grinned, very happy with myself, when she moaned and arched her back. I moved to her other breast and readily covered her nipple with my mouth while she was almost purring in my hands, running her fingers through my hair. She was right, it did feel extremely arousing, when she was scratching my skin with her nails. Everything did, at this point.

  I kissed Melita again, deeper this time, and almost couldn’t catch my breath when she finally made me pull away.

  “I’m going to show you something that will change your life forever.” She grinned, slightly pushing me with her shoulder and making me lay next to her while she was getting rid of her underwear. I forgot how to breathe altogether. “If you do everything as I tell you, all women will be losing their minds over you. Give me your hand.”

  I watched her take my hand and move it down her soft, flat belly without blinking, not really believing that I was about to touch her in the most intimate of places, the dream of every teenage boy I knew. She was watching my reaction with amusement as she placed my hand on top of her soft, wet skin, the most beautiful thing I’d ever touched in my life.

  “Do you like it?” She giggled over my fascinated look.

  “It’s… perfect,” I barely whispered, carefully moving my fingers on the most amazing discovery of my life.

  “Let me show you how it works then,” Melita chuckled again and covered my hand with hers. “Put your finger right here… yes, like that. Do you feel this little spot? You learn how to control this spot, you can control any woman. Relax your hand, let me do everything myself, and you just watch and learn.”

  In less than a minute I didn’t know what was more exciting to watch, her fingers moving on top of my hand, or her face, while she was moaning with pleasure with her eyes closed, biting her lips and arching her back, while fondling her breast with one hand. I covered her other breast with my hand and slightly squeezed her hard nipple, making her moan even louder and whisper more words of approval. Quickly catching onto the way she was touching herself with my hand, I started doing it myself, without her controlling me. By the way she so easily let go of my hand and opened her legs even wider, I guessed that I was doing everything right.

  “It’s perfect… yes… just like that,” Melita kept whispering in between hectic breaths. “Don’t stop now… faster… yes, just please don’t stop, I’m begging you don’t stop!”

  I didn’t stop until she gasped loudly and clenched her legs together, grabbing my hand with hers. She was smiling and looking at me almost with adoration in her wide open eyes.

  “God, sugar… you are a natural like I’ve never seen before,” Melita whispered, pulling me close and kissing me again, at the same time undoing my pants. “Now come here, you deserved it.”

  I couldn’t be more relieved to hear those words because I honestly didn’t know if I could wait any longer. I quickly undressed and noticed Melita’s eyes on me.

  “My dear…nature surely gifted you generously. Be careful with that thing between your legs, you could kill somebody with it!”

  I laughed, but only until the moment when she put her hand on me and guided me in. At that moment, I decided that it was the best feeling in the world. I wouldn’t get off her until we both were soaking wet and couldn’t breathe anymore.

  Melita was right in a sense when she said that she would change my life forever. Since that day, after I discovered what a continuous source of pleasure a woman’s body was, I couldn’t stop thinking about it and kept begging Melita for more of it at any opportunity. Sometimes she rolled her eyes theatrically and complained that she could hardly walk because of me, but she never refused me even once.

  My father saw us kissing outside one of the beer halls after another rally, and casually remarked on the way home, “She’s a pretty girl.”

  “She is.”

  “Don’t get her pregnant though.”

  I gave him a dirty look, but he only laughed in response. He had started working as a legal representative at one of the factories, and after our financial situation started gradually improving, my father was returning to his old good-natured self, far less bitter and angry than he had been upon his return from the war. It seemed that even the rallies didn’t interest him too much anymore, and he kept attending the beer hall meetings from time to time more out of habit as it seemed to me.

  I drifted further and further apart from my school friends and even Hannes. Melita and her University friends opened up a whole new world for me; with political rallies, and secret meetings in conspiracy apartments, where the leaders of the group read us political programs smuggled from the Weimar Republic, calling for revolution and a new regime. We smoked, drank and composed letters to our German brothers, promising them our full cooperation in case they come to power. It was a new and very exciting world, and I loved being a part of it, until one day.

  Melita and I, along with five of our friends from one of the fraternities, were waiting for the rest of our group at the entrance of a small plaza, when I spotted Dalia walking in our direction. She was wearing a long black dress like she always used to, and had a sheer cover on top of her head. I’d imagined meeting her so many times, and I’d hoped that I would have Melita on my arm when it happened, ensuring that Dalia realized that she wasn’t the only girl in the world and that she had made the biggest mistake of her life. And now it was the perfect opportunity for me to have my revenge, but I suddenly felt nervous and hoped that she wouldn’t notice me.

  The modest girl that she was, Dalia always walked with her gaze fixed on the floor, but now God knows why she raised it for a second at our group, and our eyes met. She slowed down, as if not sure if she should approach me or not, and a hint of a smile touched the corners of her lips.

  “Ernst, I think the Jew-girl likes you!” Melita, who was keeping her arms warm by wrapping them around my waist under my overcoat, noticed Dalia before I could turn away and pretend that she wasn’t there. The rest of the group reacted like a pack of hunting dogs to the word ‘Jew’ and immediately turned their heads to the small, black clad figure as well.

  I saw Dalia slow down even more, looking more concerned and at a loss, especially after more comments from the male part of the group followed.

  “Ernst, she does like you! She can’t keep her eyes off you, you handsome dog!”

  “Come here, Jew-girl! We won’t bite you… only if you ask for it, ha-ha!”

  “Leave her alone, she doesn’t like you, she likes Ernst!”

  “Sorry, Jew-
girl, but our friend is almost married to this beauty over here!”

  “Oh, that’s alright,” Melita chimed in, addressing Dalia in an overly sweet voice. “I can’t stand in the way of such pure love at first sight. Ernst, invite the girl to dinner, don’t break her heart!”

  I realized that all of them were waiting for some kind of reaction from me, and my status and maybe even future in this group depended solely on my reply. I took a drag on my cigarette, squinted my eyes slightly and smirked, looking Dalia square in the eye. “No, thank you, I don’t go out with Jews.”

  It was just what they wanted to hear, judging by all the cheering, laughter and back pats I received.

  “Sorry, Jew-girl. We tried!”

  “Go on with your business then. Maybe your charms will work on some rabbi!”

  “Maybe if you didn’t cover yourself like that, he’d agree!”

  I laughed with everybody else, even though I’d never felt more disgusted with myself. Dalia quickly averted her eyes, which were welling with tears, quickly picked up her long skirt and almost ran to the opposite side of the street, followed by more cheers and laughter. Later that evening I got drunk and for the first time told off my infuriated father.

  “Why do you think you have the right to come home in such condition, let me ask you?!”

  “Because I’m an ass, that’s why!!!”

  I slammed the door to the bedroom that I shared with my brothers, but they remained quiet in their beds even though I knew that I had woken them up. My astonished father was probably deciding what to do with me, too stunned to go after me right away. I heard my mother’s quiet voice, pleading with him, “Leave him, Hugo. He’s not himself. You’ll talk to him tomorrow, when he wakes up. Now he won’t make any sense of what you’ll be saying anyway.”

  I lay in my bed fully dressed, looking at the spinning ceiling and hating myself like never before.

  _______________

  Nuremberg prison, January 1946

  I lay on my cot, staring at the mold-eaten ceiling and quietly hating myself, when Dr. Goldensohn entered my cell to ask me more questions, which would make me hate myself even more. He was another psychiatrist, whom I liked a little better than Gilbert just because he was making an effort to treat us at least with cold detachment, and not with hardly masked hatred, which his colleagues always emanated. But it was understandable too. God witness, we deserved it.

  Even though I spoke English, I preferred to speak German with all the British and Americans around, except for agent Foster. I didn’t trust them enough; they could misinterpret my words the wrong way and make something up just to fit me into their perception of a typical Nazi. Dr. Goldensohn was an American, so he brought in an interpreter. I offered the psychiatrist the only chair that I had, while the interpreter sat on the cot by my side. It was nice, to have company. Sometimes, the loneliness was becoming too unbearable.

  “I wanted to speak about your subordinate today,” he started, after politely inquiring about my headaches, health in common and my current mood. “Adolf Eichmann.”

  I tried to hide a smile after he asked me about the man, the only knowledge of whose existence my former colleagues incarcerated here would refuse to admit probably even under torture. Eichmann was the main architect of the Holocaust, who was in charge of the extermination program in all the camps, appointed to this position by the Chief of the RSHA, Heydrich. I sighed, preparing myself for a long talk.

  “What do you want to know, doctor?”

  The American was quiet for a while, as if forming a question in his mind, and then looked at me.

  “The other day I was speaking to one of your former agents, Mildner.” He started slowly, with a pensive look on his face. “He told me… on the other hand, why don’t you tell me in your own words, how close you and Eichmann were?”

  “Close?” I almost laughed. “I met him twice in my life. You judge how close we were.”

  “Can you describe to me the occasions on which you met?”

  “Certainly. The first time I met him was, I think it was in 1943, when I just took up my position. Somebody told me that he was from Linz too, and I asked him how the city and his family was. He replied that everyone was well, and that everything was fine in Linz. That was the end of our first meeting. The second one took place almost before the signing of the capitulation, when he came to ask me for the further orders about Austria. I was appointed the commander-in-chief to all of the southern armies, and everybody in the Alpine area was reporting to me directly. He came to my villa and asked me if he should go into the mountains and join the resistance, the remaining SS, which were supposed to lead a partisan war on the allies. I told him that it was just another fantasy and that if I were him I would get out of the country. I think he did. At least I didn’t hear from anyone announcing that they recovered his body or anything like it. That was our second, and last meeting.”

  The interpreter finished translating, and I remained quiet, watching Dr. Goldensohn’s reaction. He nodded several times.

  “Some people were speculating that the two of you were very close childhood friends,” he finally said.

  “Childhood friends?” I raised my eyebrow in amusement. “To be childhood friends you should be at least of the same age. Who, if not you as a psychiatrist, should know better?”

  “I agree with you on that account. But what about the fact that your father was legally representing the factory, on which Eichmann senior was the director?”

  I shrugged.

  “They most likely knew each other, I cannot deny that. But being a lawyer and working with hundreds of people, my father knew half of the city. Eichmann senior was never invited to our family dinners, if that’s what you’re asking about. They were acquainted, however, I don’t believe they were on very close terms.”

  “I also heard that your younger brothers went to the same school as him?”

  “I can’t answer that, to be truthful. It was a good school, and taking into account Eichmann’s social status, it’s a possibility. He’s of the same age as my youngest brothers. I’ve never heard them mention the name either. But again, I had graduated by then and moved to Graz, so my family and I weren’t really speaking that often. Just a postcard here and there, and rare phone calls.”

  Dr. Goldensohn put my words down into his notepad and tapped his pencil on the paper several times, another thought furrowing his brow.

  “When I asked Mildner about you and Eichmann he said that whenever Eichmann was in the RSHA, he kept asking for an appointment with you, and you refused every time.” He looked me in the eye. “Can I ask you why you refused to see him?”

  I looked at my nails and smiled slightly. “If I tell you the truth, you’ll call me a hypocrite and will not believe me anyway. And I don’t see any point in making up a lie. So let’s just leave it a mystery, shall we?”

  “Let’s try the truth first,” he insisted.

  I kept staring at the floor under his gaze and instinctively brought a hand to my mouth. I always hated this disgusting habit, when someone would bite on their nails, but succumbed to it myself in the absence of cigarettes. I caught myself as soon as my finger touched my lips, and quickly put both hands under my legs.

  “I have no right, really. So many people died… Not died, got killed. What we did to our Jews was the biggest mistake, the most horrible mistake. And I have no right to say a word in my defense concerning Eichmann. So let’s just leave it, doctor.”

  The American psychiatrist looked at me a little longer, and then closed his notepad.

  “I’m not going to put it in my notes, so it’s just between me and you. I’m trying very hard to understand you, and I fail every time. I feel like I just figured you out, just discovered your true personality, but you go and say something, or somebody says something about you, and I’m at a loss again. My first impression of you was that under your polite and compliant mask you hide your true evil ways, your violent temper and cruelty. Now I am starting
to feel like you’re doing it on purpose, making people dislike you. Why do I have two teams of witnesses here, one who can’t stand you and one who praise you so highly? And why are you refusing to open up to me when I give you such a possibility?”

  “Because I don’t trust you and you don’t trust me?” I smiled.

  He sighed, shook his head and motioned for the interpreter to follow him.

  “You should learn to trust people,” Dr. Goldensohn said at the door, before leaving. “Stop hiding your real face. It only harms you.”

  I lay back onto my cot and smirked. My real face. My face was the main reason why people were so intimidated. Maybe my mother was right and I shouldn’t have gotten involved in the whole fencing idea. I slowly traced my fingers on the deep cuts on my skin. A little too late to think of it now. Not that I regretted a single one.

  Chapter 9

  Graz, April 1922

  “I don’t regret it, no matter what you say!” I slurred, making an almost impossible attempt to reach for a bottle on the floor, but falling back onto my bed to just burst out laughing.

  “Stop moving for one second, and let me tend to your wound! Moron!”

  Rudolf, my roommate and fraternity brother, leaned over me again, breathing heavily both from anger and concern, and pressed the alcohol soaked cloth to the slash on my cheekbone. I was so drunk that I didn’t feel any pain, and kept pushing his hand away.

  “Don’t waste good whiskey on my face! Better pour it in my mouth, it will disinfect it from the inside,” I laughed again, and turned to face the wall, away from him, ready to fall asleep.

  “Ernst!” Rudolf grabbed my shoulder and made me face him again, struggling with my hand, which I kept using to push him off me. “You can’t go to sleep yet, you’re still bleeding like a pig! Let’s go to the medical ward, they will put stitches on it.”