The Society of Terror
The Society of Terror
Inside the Dachau and Buchenwald Concentration Camps
Paul Martin Neurath
edited by
Christian Fleck and Nico Stehr
with an afterword by Christian Fleck, Albert Mller, and Nico Stehr
First published 2005 by Paradigm Publishers
Published 2016 by Routledge
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Neurath, Paul Martin, 1911
The society of terror : inside the Dachau and Buchenwald concentration camps / Paul Martin Neurath ; edited by Christian Fleck and Nico Stehr ; with an afterword by Christian Fleck, Albert Mller, and Nico Stehr. 1st ed.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 1-59451-094-6 (hc : alk. paper) ISBN 1-59451-095-4 (pb : alk. paper)
1. Dachau (Concentration camp) 2. Buchenwald (Concentration camp) 3. GermanySocial conditions19331945. 4. Holocaust, Jewish (19391945)GermanyDachauPersonal narratives. 5. Concentration camps.
I. Fleck, Christian, 1954 II. Stehr, Nico. III. Title.
D805.5.D33N49 2005
940.531853224dc22
2005004916
Designed and Typeset by Straight Creek Bookmakers.
ISBN 13 : 978-1-59451-094-6 (hbk)
ISBN 13 : 978-1-59451-095-3 (pbk)
Contents
Christian Fleck, Albert Mller, and Nico Stehr
To Lucie
To Oswald
To Franz
Lucie helped me through and out of hell. She did everything an outsider could do for a prisoner. She carried on the enervating negotiations over visas and ships passages, tax declarations and exit visas, and went through all the chicaneries that were connected with emigration from a Nazi country. She undertook all the humiliating trips to Gestapo and other Nazi offices that were necessary to gain the release of a prisoner. And all this she did with such care and with such spirit that I, in my utterly helpless position, never lost confidence that if anything could be done at all, she would certainly do it. I could hardly have come through without her.
Oswald Richter was one of the leading lawyers of the Social Democratic Party in Vienna. He was an old friend of my family, and during the Dollfuss era from 1934 to 1938, when I lived alone in Vienna, he opened his house to me and treated me like a son. He fought fascism from its very beginning. When Dollfuss destroyed Austrian democracy in 1934 and the workers took up the underground struggle for freedom, Oswald Richter kept defending them before the fascist courts. When the Nazis conquered Austria, he was immediately put into a concentration camp. We were there together from the first day until he died on January 2, 1939.
Franz Steinberg was an unknown student from Berlina tall young man with the innocent face of a baby, a dreamer who belonged more to heaven than to earth, but certainly not to hell. He liked to talk to me about Virgil and Catullus and to meditate about God and the good in man. One day, his dreamy eyes and his thoughts far, far away, he asked all of a sudden, Say, do you believe in eternal justice? I shrugged my shouldersLook around you. Maybe you will find it. But it is just because of all this that I am asking. Somebody has to avenge all this sometime. Listen boy, if you wont avenge it yourself, nobody is going to do it for you. Maybe you are right. But a man can die before that. Now dont be silly. You are not going to die tomorrow. And if you should die tomorrow, I will avenge you. Franz Steinberg died the next day.
And dont be mistaken. This is not a prison, nor is it a penitentiary. This is concentration camp Dachau. That makes a difference. You will soon see the difference.
From the speech Baranofsky, former commander of concentration camp Dachau, used to give to newcomers.
It was Sunday night, March 13, 1938, forty-eight hours after Chancellor Schuschnigg resigned and gave his farewell speech over the radio, thirty-five hours after the arrival of the first German army detachments in Vienna.1
I was busy burning the anti-Nazi part of my library. The stove was glowing deep red. I tore up book after book and threw them into the flames. The room was hot and smoky, and I had nothing on but a dark gym suit and sneakers.
Two men in civilian clothes with rifles on their backs came running across the courtyard. Lets cover the upper exit too, I heard one of them say. I suspected that they were searching the house for hidden weapons, and I thought Id better not have them find me amidst my auto-da-fe. I left the room and went out to the door. In the doorway an SS man with a gun in his hand stopped me. Heil Hitler, where are you going? Oh, just next door, to visit a friend. Hm, youd better wait a while. Why, whats the matter? Oh, nothing in particular, just a little interlude. He took me to the two SS cars outside the door. He searched my pockets and took away my keys. Otherwise, he was quite friendly and offered me a cigarette. He kept chatting with me, but all the time his gun was pointing at me. He told me how they were out to catch their enemies, one by one. I expressed my admiration and wished him good luck in finding all of them. I tried to appear calm and undisturbed and innocent. Excitement and the cold air made it difficult for me to refrain from shivering.
And now we are after one whose name is Neuman or something like that. That sounded ominous. I did not know of any Neuman in the house. I was almost certain that his companions inside were looking for me.
On a balcony above appeared Mrs. Merwarth. I hardly knew her; she just happened to live in the same house. For Gods sake, whats the matter? They are shooting in the house! Well, if they were shooting, they couldnt be after me. There was nobody in my room.
My friend with the gun quieted her, Take it easy, there wont be any shooting. Must be some sort of mistake. But immediately after that, the whole gang came out of the door, carrying their rifles with the butts up. Where is that son-of-a-bitch? Where has that damned dog gone to? The light in his room was on a moment ago. Well dash his brains out when we get him. Well beat hell out of him. He cant be far away. (I was exactly two yards away from the speaker, and one yard from the gun.) They had smashed my door with the butts of their riflesthat was what had sounded like shooting.
They put their heads together, deliberating. The chieftain called up to Mrs. Merwarth, Say what do you know about this Neurath? Well nothing definite. He is said to be a doctor. (I had received my law degree three months before.) Again they deliberated.
I saw my chance and asked my friend with the gun in a most innocent voice, Well, what about me now? You can go wherever you like. He handed me back my keys, and I went wherever I liked.