Note: In this post I discuss a collection of family photos I obtained from my second cousins in 2016, focusing on a few of historical significance and of personal interest.
In a post I have long intended to write, I discuss another collection of family ephemera, photos in this instance, I obtained in 2016 from my German second cousin, Margarita Vilgertshofer, née Bruck. This post harkens back and tiers off two posts I wrote that year, Posts 32 and 33. I refer readers to those earlier publications for the details describing how through a serious bit of detecting I was able to track down Margarita and her brother Antonio to Bavaria, Germany (Figure 1) though both were born in Barcelona, in Catalonia, Spain.
Through circumstances I’m still unclear about, a marginal insertion on Antonio’s 1946 birth certificate notes when and where he was married in the Federal Republic of Germany in 1982. (Figure 2) I’ve previously found vital certificates for ancestors where notations on where and when vital events in their lives, typically divorces, took place. What makes this notation so unique and inexplicable is that the birth certificate is from a municipal office in Spain, but the marriage took place in Germany. How and why this information was conveyed to Spain puzzles me.
In a similar vein, the most unusual case I’ve come across of vital data for an ancestor having been transmitted from one country to another is in the instance of one of my father’s first cousins, Heinz Loewenstein. I’ve written extensively about him. He was born in the Free City of Danzig in 1905, got married there in 1931, immigrated with his wife to Palestine in the 1930s, enlisted in the English Army’s Pioneer Corps, was captured during the Battle of Greece in 1941, escaped from German stalags multiple times but always recaptured, then eventually was liberated and returned to Palestine following WWII. He and his wife divorced in Palestine or Israel, and somehow this vital data was illegibly noted in the margin of his marriage certificate from a record presumably obtained by the Federal Republic of Germany (i.e., the Free State of Danzig ceased to exist following the start of WWII and Germany’s invasion of Poland and Danzig in 1939). (Figure 3) Knowing what meticulous record keepers the Germans are may explain why this information was recorded but how the Germans obtained it is the more curious question.
Returning to the subject at hand, I want to discuss several of the more unique pictures I found among my second cousin’s large collection of images. Knowing that perusing other families’ photos can be tedious, I will merely highlight a few of historic significance plus several of personal interest.
The most historically significant photo is one taken in Doorn, Netherlands showing Germany’s last Kaiser, Kaiser Wilhelm II. (Figure 4) The circumstances that resulted in the Kaiser being in Doorn is that following Germany’s defeat during WWI, he abdicated the German throne and went into exile in the Netherlands. The picture includes the Kaiser’s second wife, Empress Hermine of Germany (née Reuß zu Greiz), her daughter by her first marriage, and his retinue in exile. In the center of this group is an unidentified Bruck family member. This photograph was the subject of Post 65, and at the time I wrote that post I had no idea who the family member was.
I only learned the identity of the ancestor by marriage when I obtained a captioned copy of the identical photo from an altogether different source. I discussed this in Post 100. (Figure 5) Johanna Elisabeth Margarethe Gräbsch (1884-1963), the second wife of my accomplished Bruck relative from Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland], Dr. Walther Wolfgang Bruck (1872-1937), is standing amidst Kaiser Wilhelm II and his entourage. Dr. Bruck was the Kaiser’s wife’s dentist and likely also the Kaiser’s dentist. How precisely this worked with the Kaiser being in Berlin, later in Doorn, and Dr. Bruck being in Breslau is unclear.
Another historically noteworthy photo shows the Duchess Cecilie of Mecklenburg-Schwerin (Figure 6) in the flower school of my great-aunt Franziska Bruck (1866-1942) (Figure 7) in Berlin when she visited it on the 15th of October 1915. The Duchess was the last German Crown Princess and Crown Princess of Prussia as the wife of Wilhelm, German Crown Prince, the son of Wilhelm II. My great aunt Franziska wrote two books featuring the elegant Ikebana-style floral wreaths and bouquets she specialized in, and, according to family lore, is reputed to have put together floral arrangements for the royal family.
Another photo among my cousin’s photo array, which crosses the line between historically noteworthy and personally interesting, shows Margarita’s mother working in Franziska’s flower school and shop in Berlin. (Figure 8) While I knew from her wedding certificate that my beloved Aunt Susanne, later murdered in Auschwitz, had been a managing director in Franziska’s flower shop, I’d never known any other family members who’d worked there.
In any case, the photos discussed above document my family’s personal relationship with Germany’s last royal family.
Further evidence of the Kaiser’s wife’s connection to my Bruck family can be found in Dr. Bruck’s Breslau house guest book, a scan of which I have, which she signed when she visited him in Breslau on the 23rd of April 1923 (Figures 9a-b), presumably to have her teeth worked on. Yet more evidence of the two families’ bond can be found in a signed children’s book that Princess Hermine Reuß gave to Dr. Bruck and his wife upon the birth of their second daughter Renate (Figures 10a-b). Their first daughter Hermine, named after the Princess, unfortunately died shortly after her birth.
My cousin Margarita’s photo collection includes some unique photos of family members. One of the most unusual is of my uncle Dr. Fedor Bruck (1895-1982) in his WWI military attire. (Figure 11) My uncle Fedor has been the subject of a few posts (see Posts 17 & 31) for several reasons. Firstly, he was one of around only 5,000 Jews who survived in Germany during WWII. Secondly, he was assigned to Hitler’s dentist’s surviving dental office following the war. Thirdly, because of his pre-war friendship with one of Hitler’s dentist’s dental assistants, he had knowledge of Hitler’s fate at the end of the war. Warned by the Americans this knowledge could get him kidnapped by the Russians, he fled Berlin. For their part, the Russians were anxious to uphold the specter of Hitler as a surviving “boogeyman” who could return at any moment to again terrorize the world. The photo of my uncle in his military uniform was taken in a studio, though I know from a surviving postcard that during WWI my uncle was based on the Eastern Front in what is today the Ukraine which was then part of Russia.
A brief related anecdote. My uncle’s wife, Verena Brook, née Dick (1920-2007), was 25 years his junior. Upon my uncle’s death in 1982, my aunt offered me some of my uncle’s memorabilia. One of the more unusual items she offered, which in retrospect I should have accepted, was the section of my uncle’s WWI uniform he’d cut out where a bullet had penetrated and he’d been wounded. I suspect I could have used this for DNA analysis.
Moving on to other unique family photos.
One photo I particularly fancy shows Margarita and Antonio’s grandfather, my great uncle Wilhelm Bruck (1872-1952) in 1889. He is standing alongside a so-called Penny-farthing, an early type of bicycle. (Figure 12) It was popular during the 1870s and 1880s, with its large front wheel that provided for high speeds on account of it traveling a large distance for every rotation of the wheel. Because the bicycle had solid rubber tires the only shock absorption was in the saddle.
In multiple earlier posts, I’ve discussed the hotel, the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, my family owned in Ratibor [today: Raciborz, Poland] for three generations, from roughly 1850 to around 1925. Several historic photos showing a partial view of the hotel, then located on Oderstrasse, exist. However, among my cousin’s collection is the only known photo of the front entrance of the family establishment. (Figure 13)
The Bruck’s hotel was originally purchased by Samuel Bruck (1808-1863), my great-great grandfather. The second-generation owner of the hotel was Fedor Bruck, my great-grandfather after whom my uncle Fedor Bruck was named. Though I previously had a picture of my great-grandfather, two additional photos of him survive in Margarita’s albums, including one in which he is most fashionably dressed in the finest attire of the day. (Figure 14)
Many years ago before I started doing ancestral research I visited the Mormon Church’s FamilySearch Library in Salt Lake City. Archived in the library’s stacks was a pretentiously titled book on my family, entitled “A Thousand Year History of the Bruck Family.” I’ve subsequently obtained a more mundanely named copy, “The Bruck Family: A Historical Sketch.” The book was written by Alfred Julius Bruck, who’d anglicized his name to “Brook” upon his arrival in England. Included in Margarita’s photos is one of Alfred Bruck and his wife, Rosie. (Figure 15) Other pictures confirm they visited Margarita and her family in Munich.
Expectedly there are many pictures of Margarita’s family within her collection, many of them very endearing. (Figure 16) The circumstances that led Margarita and her brother Antonio to having been born in Spain is because her grandfather, Wilhelm Bruck, worked in Spain in the early 20th century on the installation of the first electric lines in Barcelona. While he would return to Germany following the completion of his contractual obligations, following Hitler’s rise to power in 1933, his connections in Spain permitted him to immigrate there. Additionally, both of Wilhelm & Antonie Bruck’s two children, Edgar and Eva (Figure 17), were born there so retained Spanish citizenship.
There is an intriguing picture that speaks to the aristocratic lifestyle my great aunt and uncle led in Spain showing Edgar being fed by a wetnurse. (Figure 18) During their residence in Barcelona, Wilhelm and Antonie appear to have lived in Tibidabo, the highest neighborhood in the city. (Figure 19)
Intriguingly there are a few pictures of my immediate family among Margarita’s photos I was previously aware of. One is a cabinet card of my uncle Fedor, my aunt Susanne, and my father Otto as children. (Figure 20) Another is my aunt Susanne and her two cousins, Edgar and Eva, along with a group of other actors who performed together. (Figure 21)
A riveting picture in the collection, reflective of the horrific toll of WWI, was presumably taken at a recuperative center after the war. (Figure 22) Besides medical staff, it presumably shows wounded soldiers who had one of their limbs amputated. Since I recognize no one in the photo I’m uncertain why this picture is in Margarita’s collection.
Note: In this post, I use a passage from the diary of one of my distant Bruck relatives to examine the foundations of liberal and nationalist student fraternities founded in Germany, Austria, and Chile during the 19th century, and the historic and social context behind their development.
I’ve periodically written about family ephemera I’ve accessed through near or distant relatives, most recently in Post 167 where I discussed copies of photographs I obtained from my fourth cousin Tom Brook that he inherited from his father Casper Bruck (i.e., the Bruck surname was anglicized upon our families’ respective arrivals in England and America). Often these keepsakes and souvenirs offer fascinating glimpses into the past and provide visual images of family members who were at times involved in extraordinary historical adventures or tragic events. And occasionally, I even recognize a physical resemblance or attribute passed down through the generations. I’ve spent a considerable amount of time over the years scrutinizing old photographs looking for elusive clues hidden in these pictures; sometimes I even learn things from what’s not in the images.
Let me provide some context for the current post, which also involves some family memorabilia, in this instance a family diary. Honestly, nothing beats a detailed memoir for a peek into people who populate one’s ancestral tree. Though by no means unique to my family nor universally true, the resolute moral fiber some of my ancestors exhibited, as reflected in their stories, stands in stark contrast to what I see around me today.
The diary or memoir in question was written in German by Bertha Jacobson, née Bruck (1873-1957) (Figure 1), for her granddaughter, Maria Jacobson (1933-2022). Bertha was my second cousin two times removed and Maria was my fourth cousin. While irrelevant, Bertha’s birth and death years correspond precisely with the birth and death years of my own grandmother, Else Bruck, née Berliner (1873-1957). Regrettably, my own grandmother left me no such memoir. Then again, Bertha was much closer to Maria than I was to my grandmother, who also survived the Holocaust and eventually made her way to America. Upon Maria’s parents’ departure from Berlin, Maria was left in the temporary care of her grandmother there, both of whom ultimately escaped and made their way to America via Cuba.
Maria discovered her grandmother’s memoir when she was cleaning out her aunt’s cluttered apartment following her aunt’s death. Amidst the disarray, Maria was lucky to stumble on the diary. I knew Maria (Figure 2) and was aware of her grandmother’s diary. Because it is typewritten in German, which I don’t speak, and because Maria regularly remarked how challenging it was to decipher and comprehend the marginal and inserted handwritten notes and who precisely was being discussed, I never requested a copy. Regardless, shortly before her death Maria donated the diary to the Leo Baeck Institute (LBI) in New York, along with other family papers.
Fast forward. Within the last year, Helen Winter, née Renshaw (Figure 3), another of my fourth cousins, living in Wolverhampton, England, contacted me through my blog. I’ve discussed her in multiple recent posts. Upon determining Helen is more closely related to Maria and Bertha than me, I mentioned to her in passing Bertha’s memoir. Uncertain as to the conditions under which Maria had donated the diary to the LBI, given Maria’s proclivity towards privacy in matters of family, I suggested Helen might want to check with them as to its accessibility. As it turns out, the memoir was publicly available and Helen was able to obtain a copy. Ever since, Helen has been involved in the challenging task of translating the document.
Some brief background about Helen. She is a retired lawyer, living as mentioned in England. Helen continues to be involved in some legal work but has a passion for studying and writing about our mutual ancestors relying in large part on her vast collection of family ephemera. Beyond having a large body of materials to draw upon, Helen understands German. Her grandfather once suggested she should become a translator, at which in my humble opinion she would have been excellent, though it was suggested more disparagingly in the vein that this was “a suitable job for a woman.” Suffice it to say Helen is doing an amazing job deciphering Bertha’s memoir. Thanks to her decryption, I’m discovering things about our ancestors I never had any expectation of and learning about some aspects of European history I knew little or nothing about.
To reiterate something I’ve periodically emphasized. I make no claim that my lineage is any more exceptional than those of readers, only that my family’s surviving documents, photos, etc. provide an opportunity to investigate my ancestors and more importantly examine the social and historical context in which they lived. Naturally, this transcends my own family and might be of passing interest to people who are unrelated to me.
I recall more than ten years ago giving a translated talk at the museum in Nowy Dwór Gdański, Poland (German: Tiegenhof), the town formerly in the Free City of Danzig where my father had his dental practice between 1932 and 1937. A Jewish audience member was astonished that seven albums of my father’s photos survive when, but a few scant pictures of his ancestors exist. This is typical among descendants of Jewish victims or survivors of the Holocaust. My father’s pictures have provided me with a trove of individuals and topics to study.
As Helen progresses in her translation, I will periodically discuss parts that are of passing interest. Before beginning, let me provide some temporal context as to the estimated date of the diary. While Bertha Bruck does not state when she started writing her memoirs, she provides one telling clue. She mentions her husband’s sister, Martha Jacobson, née Zamorÿ, born on the 15th of June 1852, saying she was 84 and in ill health at the time, suggesting she suffered from dementia; Bertha remarked she hoped not to wind up like her. Chronologically, this would suggest she started writing the memoir in around 1936. One ancestry.com reference, however, places Martha’s death circa 1935, so possibly Bertha erred as to her sister-in-law’s age. Regardless, the memoir was likely begun in 1935 or 1936 following Hitler’s rise to power in Germany in 1933 and before Bertha’s escape to America.
The passage that is the focus of this post opens the door to discussing the origin of so-called “Burschenschaften,” liberal and nationalist student fraternities founded in Germany, Austria, and, of all places, Chile in the 19th century; all I’ll say about the connection of these fraternities to Chile is it’s due to the German cultural influence in the country at the time.
The relevant quotation from Bertha’s memoir relates to Bertha’s grandfather and Helen’s great-great-grandfather, Jonas Bruck (1843-1911) (Figure 4), our nearest common relative. I’ve previously written about Jonas. Because of the cataclysmic and destructive events associated with WWII and the ensuing Communist era, there are few tombs of my Jewish ancestors that survive, that of Jonas and his accomplished son, Dr. Julius Bruck, being exceptions. Both Jonas and Julius along with their respective wives are entombed in Wrocław, Poland (German: Breslau) in a restored monument in the former Jewish cemetery. (Figure 5)
“With regard to those champagne lunches with the grandparents, I remember Grandfather’s conversation, which was so lively, and almost uninterrupted. I clearly remember one story. In about the year 1831, Grandfather went to Jena, as a young student. The first place one had to go was Weimar. When the crowd of young students appeared before his house on Frauenplan [Square], Goethe had already undressed. However, he came to the window—and he had attached a row of medals to his woolen nightshirt. That the man of the greatest intellect and highest art in the country should be motivated, at all, by the human littleness of earthly vanity, is such a thing as the most understanding person can hardly speak of it; his contemporary and very congenial friend, Wilhelm von Humboldt, speaks regretfully in his letters to his wife of Goethe’s ‘little weakness.’ It distressed Humboldt on behalf of this great man who was his friend, that he had asked him to obtain an order for him. While this is certainly not part of my own memories, but, because I foresee that my descendants will probably not be able to provide themselves with German education, I mention Humboldt. From his wise standing above [material] things, from his ability to, very quickly, derive a standpoint beyond the individual’s, from his personal experience. I have so often derived consolation and peace—at a great distance, of course! I hope that, if my descendants, also go into scientific oursuits, they may also still retain understanding/appreciation of the world of Goethe, Humboldt, and others, men who could only possibly have originated from Germany. It’s for this reason I have made this digression.”
There’s a lot to unpack in this brief recollection. Without Helen’s intercession, who is better versed in Prussian and German history, some aspects of Bertha’s diary would be difficult for me to make sense of.
Jonas Bruck’s visit to Jena appears to have been related to the fact that, like his sons, he was a Burschenschaftler, a member of a Studentenverbindungen, traditional student associations called Burschenschaften. The very first one, the so-called Urburschenschaft (“original Burschenschaft”), was founded on 12 June 1815 at Jena. Ergo, Jonas’ visit to the founding city.
Burschenschaften student organizations started as an expression of the new nationalism prevalent in post-Napoleonic Europe after the Napoleonic Wars of 1803 to 1815. Prussia, the largest of the Germanic states, had been significantly embarrassed during the Napoleonic era, particularly after the disastrous Battle of Jena-Auerstedt in 1806, where their army was decisively defeated by Napoleon. This led to major territorial losses and a humiliating peace treaty that left them severely weakened and under French influence; this event exposed Prussia’s military inadequacies and forced them to undergo significant reforms to regain their standing on the European stage.
Following its founding in 1815 at the University of Jena, the Burschenschaft movement spread all over Germany. The early student groups were egalitarian and liberal and favored the political unification of Germany. A significant number of the Burschenschaften’s early members were students who had taken part in the German wars of liberation against the Napoleonic occupation of Germany.
The Burschenschaften participated in student demonstrations at the Wartburg Festival in October 1817, which was followed in March 1819 by the assassination of August von Kotzebue, a German writer who served the Russian tsar, by the nationalistic Burschenschaftler Karl Sand. These events sufficiently alarmed the major German states for them to pass the Carlsbad Decrees in 1819, which effectively provided for the suppression of the Burschenschaften.
The states represented at the meeting in Carlsbad were Austria, Prussia, Bavaria, Saxony, Mecklenburg, Hanover, Wurttemberg, Nassau, Baden, Saxe-Weimar-Eisenach, and electoral Hesse. The occasion of the meeting was the desire of the Austrian foreign minister Klemens, Prince von Metternich, to take advantage of the concern of the recent revolutionary events, particularly the murder of August Kotzebue, to persuade the German governments to jointly suppress the liberal and nationalistic tendencies within their states.
Following passage of the Carlsbad Decrees, the clubs went underground until 1848, when they actively participated in the German Revolution. The latter resulted in the short-lived German Empire (1848-1849), the ultimately failed proto state which attempted to unify the German states within the German Confederation to create a German nation-state.
As an aside, the German Empire of 1848-1849 is not to be confused with the German nation-state that existed from 1871 to 1918. The latter, also referred to as Imperial Germany, the Second Reich, or simply Germany, was the German Reich that lasted from the unification of Germany in 1871 until the November Revolution in 1918. It’s ending following the defeat of Imperial Germany in WWI marked the change in the form of government from a monarchy to a republic.
The Burschenschaften’s motto was “Ehre, Freiheit, Vaterland,” or “Honor, Freedom, Fatherland.” As mentioned, its goals included the political unification of Germany; the abolishment of Germany’s smaller states; improving student life; and increasing patriotism. After the establishment of the German Empire in 1871, the student associations faced a crisis, as their main political objective had been realized to some extent, namely, German unification.
In the 1880s, a renaissance movement, Reformburschenschaften, arose and many new Burschenschaften were founded. It was also during this time until the 1890s when the members turned increasingly anti-Semitic with many believing that Jews hampered the unification of Germany. Some members resigned in protest following the adoption at an Eisenach meeting declaring that Burschenschaft “have no Jewish members and do not plan to have any in the future.”
It is fascinating that the German nationalism of 1848 that was based upon liberal values changed during the German Empire (1871-1918) into German nationalism based upon Prussian authoritarianism, Prussia being the largest and most dominant of the former German states. Their supporters were conservative, reactionary, anti-Catholic, anti-liberal, anti-socialist, and anti-Semitic in nature.
The Reformburschenschaften were dissolved by the Nazi regime in 1935/36. In West Germany, the Burschenschaften were re-established in the 1950s but no longer played a significant role in German politics. The Burschenschaften faced a renewed crisis in the 1960s and 1970s as the German student movement of that period trended more towards the left. Today, about 160 Burschenschaften exist in Germany, Austria, and Chile that range from progressive to nationalistic.
Bertha mentions that Jonas Bruck and his fellow Burschenschaftler showed up outside the home of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832), who lived in Weimar and was by then an elderly man. Weimar is only about 23 miles from Jena, and visiting Goethe’s hometown was likely to be a necessary pilgrimage point for students. Both Jena and Weimar were once part of the Duchy of Saxe-Weimar (Figure 6) and are today located in the German state of Thuringia. (Figure 7)
Goethe is considered to have been a “polymath,” an individual whose knowledge spans many different subjects, known to draw on complex bodies of knowledge to solve specific problems. In American history Benjamin Franklin is considered one of the foremost polymaths because he was a writer, scientist, inventor, statesman, diplomat, printer, and political philosopher, as well as one of the Founding Fathers.
Goethe is widely regarded as the greatest and most influential writer in the German language. His work has had a profound and wide-ranging influence on Western literary, political, and philosophical thought from the late 18th century to the present day. It’s very telling that Bertha Bruck digressed to acknowledge Goethe and his friend, Wilhelm von Humboldt (1767-1835), German philosopher and linguist, and opine that they could only have originated in Germany and express the hope that her descendants would retain an appreciation and understanding of their world.
Absurdly, as I was reading Bertha’s telling of Goethe showing up at his window in a nightshirt, I couldn’t dispel the image of Ebenezer Scrooge wearing his night garment being visited by the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and yet to come. Regardless, this passage also caught my attention because of the further absurdity of Goethe appearing at his window wearing his nightshirt bedecked with a sash of medals and awards. According to Bertha’s retelling, Humboldt was embarrassed on behalf of his friend that he had once asked him to obtain an unearned Austrian medal for him.
I forwarded this section of Bertha’s memoirs to my doctor friend from Köpenick, Berlin, Dr. Tilo Wahl (Figure 8), whom I introduced to readers in Post 99 and whose interest in so-called “phaleristics” I discussed there. This is an auxiliary science of history and numismatics which studies orders, fraternities, and award items, such as medals, ribbons, and other decorations. I thought Tilo might be interested that the famous Goethe too was interested in these. Tilo responded telling me that it was well known that Goethe had an interest in orders and medals. He was apparently involved in designing the Saxe-Weimar house order, the “vom Weißen Falken” (white falcon). (Figure 9) The first examples were made by jewelers in Goethe’s hometown of Frankfurt. He was also a great collector of coins.
I mentioned above that at least one of Jonas Bruck’s sons, Friedrich Felix Bruck (1843-1911), was also a Burschenschaftler. If the name sounds familiar it’s because he was Tom Brook’s great-grandfather whom I discussed in Post 167. I also previously wrote that Helen possesses a large collection of family ephemera. This includes a 25th anniversary yearbook, so to speak, covering 1848 to 1873, of a student association Friedrich Felix Bruck was a member of in Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland] called “Arminia.” (Figure 10) The expensively produced printing includes photos of all its presumed members, including Felix Bruck (Figure 11), sporting a delightful assortment of smoking and Baker boy caps and a handsome array of whiskers.
Helen delved into the derivation of the name of Felix’s student association since the only reference I could find to “Arminia” was to Jacobus Arminius (1560-1609); the latter was a Dutch Reformed minister and theologian during the Protestant Reformation period whose views became the basis of Arminianism and the Dutch Remonstrant movement. He is not, however, the source name of Felix’s student association.
As Helen explained, many nationalistic student associations in Germany took the name “Arminius,” sometimes translated as “Hermann.” This was in honor of Arminius, a Germanic warrior chieftain of the so-called Cherusci, a Germanic tribe inhabiting the northwestern German plains and forests in the Weser River area. During the Battle of the Teutoburg Forest in 9 A.D., also called the Varus Disaster, today located in the German state of Lower Saxony in northwestern Germany (see Figure 7, “Nedersachsen”), Arminius led an alliance of German tribes that ambushed three Roman legions led by Publius Quinctilius Varus and his auxiliaries. What allowed Arminius to methodically outfox the Romans and anticipate their tactical response during the Battle was that he had received a Roman military education on account of his Roman citizenship. In any case, in the 19th century Arminius was seen as a hero of Germanic independence, and since the inception of the Burschenschaften student associations in 1815 they were called “Arminian.”
Followers will have observed a noticeable drift in this post away from Bertha Bruck’s actual words to an examination of the historical and social context in which my ancestors lived. I’ve concluded this may be of broader interest to readers.
REFERENCES
Arminia. (2021 April 17). In German Wikipedia.
https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arminia
Arminius. (2025 January 6) In Wikipedia.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arminius
Battle of the Teutoburg Forest. (2024 December 29) In Wikipedia.
Note: This post is inspired by a German action-thriller I recently streamed on Netflix in which the Zentralfriedhof Friedrichsfelde cemetery in the eastern part of Berlin is shown; this is where one of my great aunts happens to be buried. Investigating further, I learned a little about the importance of this cemetery in the former German Democratic Republic or East Germany and some of the important socialist and communist personages interred here.
I recently finished streaming a German action-thriller comedy series entitled “Kleo.” It follows the revenge journey of a former East German Stasi assassin named Kleo Straub. According to the storyline, in 1987, after successfully assassinating a double agent in a West Berlin club, Kleo is falsely imprisoned for treason by her agency. When she is released after the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, she plans her revenge on the conspirators who framed her, using her considerable skills as a trained assassin.
While the story is not true, it is based on real history. Fundamentally, it is historical fiction, with artistic license used to embellish real figures, politics, and history. To provide an authentic setting for the spy show, the show was filmed in different locations in Germany and Serbia.
As I will further explain, one scene in an episode of the first season was filmed in the former eastern part of Berlin and was immediately recognizable to me. This was very surprising since I claim no specific or even general knowledge of the geographic layout of Berlin, notwithstanding my family’s deeply rooted connection to this city but particularly because the landscape has been vastly altered from prewar times due to heavy Allied bombing during the war.
One historic personality who figures as a major antagonist in the first season is Erich Mielke (1907-2000). Mielke was a German communist official who served as head of the East German Ministry for State Security (Ministerium für Staatsicherheit – MfS), better known as the Stasi, from 1957 until shortly after the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989. Dubbed “The Master of Fear” (German: der Meister der Angst) by the West German press, Mielke was one of the most powerful and most hated men in East Germany.
Wikipedia describes his role following his return to Germany from the Soviet Union after WWII as follows: “Following the end of World War II in 1945, Mielke returned to the Soviet Zone of Occupied Germany, which he helped organize into a Marxist–Leninist satellite state under the Socialist Unity Party (SED). The Stasi under Mielke has been called by historian Edward Peterson the ‘most pervasive police state apparatus ever to exist on German soil.’ During the 1950s and 1960s, Mielke led the process of forcibly forming collectivized farms from East Germany’s family-owned farms, which sent a flood of refugees to West Germany. In response, Mielke oversaw the 1961 construction of the Berlin Wall and co-signed standing orders for the Border Guards to use lethal force against all East Germans who attempted to commit ‘desertion of the Republic’.”
Wikipedia goes on to further describe his fate following German reunification: “After German reunification in 1990, Mielke was prosecuted, convicted, and imprisoned for the 1931 policemen’s murders. A second murder trial for the 260 killings of defectors at the Inner German border was adjourned after Mielke was ruled not mentally competent to stand trial. Mielke was also charged, but never tried, with ordering two 1981 terrorist attacks by the Baader-Meinhof Group against United States military personnel in West Germany. Released from incarceration early due to ill health and senile dementia in 1995, Mielke died in a Berlin nursing home in 2000.”
According to the plot line in the German action-thriller, Kleo, suspecting Mielke, the former head of the Stasi, of a role in her indictment on treason cleverly orchestrates the now-imprisoned chief’s poisoning in Season 1, Episode 4. Her intent is not to kill him, but rather have him transported to a hospital where she can implausibly infiltrate the hospital, disguise herself as a nurse, and interrogate him. Suffice it to say, things go awry, and she winds up killing Mielke.
In Episode 6, Mielke’s State funeral takes place at the realZentralfriedhof Friedrichsfelde cemetery in the eastern part of Berlin, and is presided over by another historic personality, Erich Honecker’s wife, Margot Honecker (1927-2016). Mielke is, in fact, buried in the Zentralfriedhof Friedrichsfelde.
Erich Honecker (1912-1989) was a real German communist politician who led the German Democratic Republic, East Germany, from 1971 until shortly before the fall of the Berlin Wall in November 1989. He was the General Secretary of the Socialist Unity Party of Germany (SED) and Chairman of the National Defence Council; in 1976, he became Chairman of the State Council, the official head of state. As leader of East Germany, Honecker was viewed as a dictator. During his leadership, the country had close ties with the Soviet Union, which maintained a large army in the country.
As Cold War tensions eased in the late 1980s with the advent of perestroika and glasnost, the liberal reforms introduced by Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev, Honecker refused to make any fundamental changes to the East German political system. He continued to maintain a hardline attitude modeled on the inflexible regimes of North Korea, Cuba, and Romania. Honecker was eventually forced to resign by the SED Politburo in October 1989 to improve the government’s public image, an effort that ultimately failed and resulted in the collapse of the entire regime the following month.
Following German reunification in 1990, Honecker sought asylum in the Chilean Embassy in Moscow, but was extradited back to Germany in 1992, after the fall of the Soviet Union, to stand trial for human rights abuses in East Germany. Suffering from terminal liver cancer, however, the trial was abandoned, and Honecker was allowed to rejoin his family in exile in Chile, where he died in May 1994. Honecker is buried in the central cemetery in Santiago, not in the Zentralfriedhof Friedrichsfelde in Berlin.
A brief digression for context as to why I’m writing this post. My father customarily referred to family and acquaintances using sobriquets, often slightly pejorative ones. In French, the language we spoke at home when I was growing up, he called one of his aunts living in East Berlin during the Cold War “la Communiste,” the Communist. I never met her. I can no longer recall exactly when I learned her real name was Elsbeth Bruck (1874-1970) (Figure 1), but I probably heard it from my German now-deceased older first cousin. This may also have coincided with when I learned that her surviving personal papers are archived at the Stadtmuseum in Spandau. (Figure 2) I discussed in Post 15 having visited and photographed Elsbeth’s personal papers (Figure 3) in 2014. I visited her tomb in 2012, located in none other than the Zentralfriedhof Friedrichfelde (Figure 3) in the Lichtenberg borough of Berlin. (Figure 4)
Let me provide some brief history about this cemetery. Beginning in 1900, with the burial of Wilhelm Liebknecht, founder of the Socialist Democratic Party (SPD), the cemetery became the resting place for many of the leaders and activists of Germany’s social democratic, socialist and communist movements. In 1919, the coffins of Karl Liebknecht (son of Wilhelm Liebknecht) and Rosa Luxemburg, co-founders of the Communist Party of Germany, were buried in a mass grave in a remote section of the cemetery.
Notwithstanding a 2009 Charité autopsy report casting doubt on whether Rosa Luxemberg’s remains were ever buried there, to this day a grave commemorating her and nine other foremost socialist leaders surrounds the central garden roundel at the cemetery. The Charité, incidentally, is Europe’s largest university hospital, affiliated with Humboldt University and the Free University of Berlin. And Humboldt University it so happens is where my uncle Professor Dr. Franz Müller (Figure 5), husband of my aunt Suzanne Müller, nee Bruck, murdered in Auschwitz, taught until the Nazis came to power in 1933 and revoked his teaching credentials.
The so-called “Monument to the Revolution” was erected in front of the mass grave where the coffins of Karl Liebknecht and Rosa Luxemburg had been interred in 1919. It was destroyed by the National Socialists in January 1935. The division of Berlin following the Second World War caused the cemetery to be within the borders of East Berlin, where it was used to bury East German (GDR) leaders.
The current “Memorial to the Socialists” (German: Gedenkstätte der Sozialisten) was inaugurated in 1951. Although located some distance from the site once occupied by the 1926 Monument to the Revolution, the 1951 memorial was planned as its “moral successor” and as the central memorial site for East Germany’s Socialists, Communists and anti-fascist fighters.
The 1951 Memorial to the Socialists consists of a central garden roundel (Figure 6) surrounded by a semi-circular brick wall. (Figure 7) The central garden roundel is dominated by a porphyry stele or obelisk with the words Die Toten mahnen uns (English: The dead remind us), which is surrounded by 10 graves commemorating foremost socialist leaders, including Karl Liebknecht and Rosa Luxemburg. (Figure 8) Set into the semi-circular brick wall are gravestones and niches with the urns of distinguished Socialists and Communists, as well as a large red marble tablet bearing the names of 327 men and women who gave their lives in the cause of fighting the National Socialists between 1933 and 1945.
Of more personal interest is the area immediately behind the semi-circular brick wall of the Memorial to the Socialists, referred to as the Pergolenweg Ehrengraben (i.e. “tombs of honor”) section of the cemetery. Here are buried the urns of Socialists, Communists and anti-fascist fighters of merit who were considered distinguished enough by the Politburo of the Socialist Unity Party of Germany to rest in the vicinity of the foremost party leaders yet not as eminent as to entitle them to a grave in the Memorial to the Socialists itself. Until 1989, decisions whether a person should be buried in the Memorial to the Socialists or the adjacent Pergolenweg section of the cemetery rested solely with the Politburo of the Socialist Unity Party of Germany, and many honored this way were also given a state funeral.
Previously unknown to me is that my great-aunt Elsbeth Bruck’s headstone is in the Pergolenweg section of the Zentralfriedhof Friedrichsfelde. (Figure 9) My great-aunt’s placement in this section of the cemetery confirms what I already knew about her, namely, that Elsbeth was a very high-ranking apparatchik in the former GDR government, that’s to say, a prominent member of the Communist Party apparat or administrative system. Whether she was given a state funeral upon her death in 1970 is unknown to me.
Another thing that attests to the high esteem with which Elsbeth was regarded within the former GDR is an award she received. She was given the “Vaterländischer Verdienstorden in Silber,” the “Patriotic Order of Merit in Silver,” for “special services to the state and to the society.” This order survives with Elsbeth’s personal papers at the Stadtmuseum in Spandau. (Figure 10)
Fascinatingly, people buried in the Pergolenweg section could also have the urns of up to three family members buried with them. Amusingly, all this makes me wonder whether I could be buried alongside my great aunt. I presume this tradition ended with the demise of the GDR but it’s still entertaining to contemplate.
REFERENCES
Zentralfriedhof Friedrichsfelde: Der Pergolenweg. Gedenkstatte der Sozialisten, Table 12. Tafel 12
Note: In this post, I discuss the contents of a collection of photographs shared with me by one of my fourth cousins, Tom Brook. They shed light on some of our mutual ancestors and give a unique glimpse into his father’s WWII deployments, primarily in Egypt, Libya, and India.
Periodically a relative or acquaintance will share with me their collection of family photos or memorabilia. Acknowledging that some readers will consider this akin to a friend inflicting their vacation photos on you, to me this is like a treasure hunt particularly when the pictures are unlabeled and I’m able to identify the subjects through logical deduction or by comparison to labeled images. Frequently, knowing the owner’s ancestral lineage helps; if they’re related to me, I’m often able to identify their ancestors because of my familiarity with our family tree.
On other occasions, the photo collections provide historic glimpses of well-known events or places or, alternatively, off-the-beat locations. It is worth remembering that World War II was a global conflict that took soldiers to often remote spots around the world. In the case of my own father’s surviving photos of his time in the French Foreign Legion while stationed in North Africa, mostly in Algeria, I’ve been told they’re unique. I would say the same regarding the collection I’m about to discuss.
My wife Ann and I recently traveled to New York to meet my fourth cousin Tom Brook and his husband Sam Wahl. (Figure 1) Beyond the fact we’d never previously met, and I was curious to make their acquaintance, Tom had mentioned his father Casper Bruck’s album of photos which he’d expressed an interest in showing me. This is an assemblage I was particularly intrigued to peruse given his family’s connection to Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland] where multiple of my own ancestors also hail from. Some of our most accomplished mutual ancestors come from Breslau, several of whom are buried in the still-existing Old Jewish Cemetery [Polish: Stary Cmentarz Żydowski we Wrocławiu]. (Figure 2) Relevantly, both of our families changed their surname to “Brook” upon their arrival in Anglo-Saxon countries.
I previously introduced Tom Brook to readers in Post 143 when I discussed his role as one of the first reporters on the scene after John Lennon was shot in December 1980 outside The Dakota Building on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, an event he is invariably asked about on milestone anniversaries of this tragic event. Like then, Tom still works for the BBC as the host of a weekly show called “Talking Movies,” where he reviews new releases and interviews actors.
Like other cousins I’ve discovered around the world, Tom found me through my blog when he asked if we are related. As I happened to have him in my ancestral tree, though with no details, I explained we are fourth cousins. Serendipitously, I was more recently contacted by Tom’s second cousin from Wolverhampton, England, Helen Winter, née Renshaw (Figure 3), whom I’ve previously mentioned to readers as the source of lots of family ephemera. While Helen and Tom have never linked up, Helen’s older sister Anna Renshaw clearly recalls meeting him as a child in England where both grew up. As further evidence of my ancestral connection to Tom, my fourth cousin twins (Figure 4) from Sydney, Australia, also born in England, whom I mirthfully refer to as “my movie star cousins,” are Tom’s third cousins.
In any case, during our recent encounter in New York Tom showed me his father’s photo album along with an unusually decorated cigar box that belonged to one of his ancestors, likely his great-grandfather (Figure 5); a little more on this box below. Tom allowed me to borrow the album so I could duplicate the photographs for later study. This has been invaluable because with Helen Winter’s help, together we’ve managed to identify the subjects in a few images that Tom specifically wondered about. Also, photos detailing Casper Bruck’s deployment during the war capture rare images of a few places that are today household names.
In this post, I’ll discuss a few family photos but will mostly highlight places where Casper was deployed during the war; I think this will be of broader interest to my audience. These images provide an opportunity to discuss what was going on in the war and its immediate aftermath at the time Casper took his photographs.
Given that the album belonged to Tom’s father, not unexpectedly, most images show Casper and his immediate family at various stages of their lives. In terms of family photos, I’ll address mostly those whose subjects were unknown to Tom.
One of the oldest photos in Tom’s collection is an undated Daguerreotype-like image of a youngish man with three children (Figure 6); as readers can make out, the figures are darkly illuminated. Helen Winter and I were able to determine this is Tom’s great-grandfather, Felix Friedrich Bruck (1843-1911) and his three children, Eberhard Friedrich Bruck (1877-1960), Margot Giles, née Bruck (1879-1949), and Werner Friedrich August Bruck (1880-1945). Eberhard Bruck and Werner Bruck are, respectively, Helen Winter and Tom Brook’s grandfathers as young children. Margot, the only daughter, is distinguishable because she is holding a doll. A later photo dated 1930 shows Eberhard Bruck and his daughter, also named Margot (1917-1985), and Werner Bruck (Figure 7); Margot is Helen Winter’s mother.
The youngest of Felix Bruck’s children, Werner Bruck was born on the 23rd of August 1880, and his mother, Anna Elise Bruck, née Prausnitz (1853-1880) died a week later, perhaps a result of childbearing complications. Obviously, the Daguerreotype-like picture, when Werner appears to be only a year or two old, does not include his mother. The picture clearly captures the weight of her death on the family, where all look immeasurably sad. Elsewhere among Tom’s photos is a stand-alone picture of his great-grandmother. (Figure 8)
Felix Bruck never remarried. Elsewhere in Tom’s album are a few untitled pictures of him later in life where he is portlier and more difficult to recognize compared to when he was younger. (Figures 9-10) After studying the setting and comparing the photos to similar ones among Helen’s ephemera, there is no doubt the photos depict Felix. Margot Bruck was the first of his children to bear him a grandchild, Otto Giles (1904-1980), and a photo survives of Otto as a child seated on his grandfather’s lap in his study. (Figure 11)
The surviving photos taken in Felix’s study are particularly intriguing to me. Hanging on the wall above his desk are portraits of unidentified individuals I’m almost certain depict older Bruck ancestors, possibly Felix’s grandparents. (Figure 12) Unfortunately, I have no portraits to compare them against. Helen’s collection of photos includes a comparable one of Felix seated in his study with his daughter Margot standing aside him with those same portraits visible. (Figure 13)
Beyond the pictures of Tom’s great-grandparents, Tom’s album includes pictures of his grandparents (Figure 14), parents (Figure 15-16), aunt and uncle (Figure 17), and cousins. Apart from casual family acquaintances, Helen and I have been able to identify most of the subjects. A particularly endearing photo was taken in 1928 of Casper with his younger brother Peter. (Figure 18)
Let me shift now to Casper Bruck’s intriguing wartime images.
The individual pages in Casper photo album typically note the year(s) and place(s) the pictures were taken. Casper Bruck’s album includes a page of photos taken in El Alamein, Egypt, and in Benghazi and Tripoli, Libya in 1942-43. El Alamein is a town located on the Mediterranean Sea 66 miles west of Alexandria, Egypt, while Benghazi and Tripoli are in Libya further west but also along the Mediterranean. A little historic context is useful to understand Casper’s pictures.
The Second Battle of El Alamein was fought near the western frontier of Egypt between the 23rd of October and the 4th of November 1942. El Alamein was the climax and turning point of the North African campaign during WWII and the beginning of the end of the Western Desert Campaign. The Axis army of Germany and Italy suffered a decisive defeat at the hands of the British Eighth Army that prevented them from penetrating into Egypt. This kept the Suez Canal in Allied hands and prevented the full-scale invasion and seizure of the Middle Eastern and Persian oil fields.
In a 13-day battle the Axis Panzerarmee Afrika was crushed and forced to retreat from Egypt and Libya to the borders of Tunisia. The Axis fought a defensive campaign in Tunisia into 1943. Although they engaged in a tenacious rearguard action, the Axis forces were in an impossible position. In May 1943, they were forced to surrender, with the loss of around 240,000 prisoners.
Casper’s album separately includes a sequence of photos taken in Cairo; I can’t say for sure when they were taken because the last numeral on the date is hidden but I think they predate his pictures from El Alamein, meaning they were likely taken earlier in 1942 before the Second Battle of El Alamein. The images from Cairo are interesting more for what they don’t show, namely, the pyramids outside the city; curiously, several famous mosques are instead illustrated. (Figure 19)
Turning to Casper’s photos of El Alamein, one image stands out. In the foreground is a corrugated metal sign reading “El Alamein Salvage,” and in the near background is written “Springbok Road.” (Figure 20) I found an identical copy of this image that sold on eBay for £6.99. I imagine this was a popular photo spot, and that multiple examples of this picture survive in the decaying albums of former English soldiers involved in the Western Desert Campaign. Several of Casper’s photos appear to show German and Italian abandoned war materiels waiting to be broken up for scrap metal, ergo the salvage effort. (Figure 21)
Another intriguing photo in Casper’s album is simply labeled “ITIES.” (Figure 22) Having no idea what this signifies, I eventually discovered this is derogatory English slang for Italians. The photo clearly shows Italian prisoners of war. What I learned while researching this image is that unlike the Germans whose retreat from El Alamein was more orderly, thereby limiting the number of their surviving soldiers captured, their Italian allies lacked motor transport to evacuate their withdrawing units thus resulting in more Italians being swept up by the British. Regardless, by November 4 the motorized elements of the Axis were in full retreat, and because of the sluggish British follow-up they were allowed to escape virtually unscathed to Tunisia.
The page on which Casper’s pictures of Benghazi and Tripoli are found is labelled “MEF 1942-43,” which stands for “Middle East Forces 1942-43.” (Figure 23) It’s not clear that Casper was in one of vanguard British infantry divisions that participated in the Tunisian campaign that ultimately defeated the Axis forces there in 1943. Photos of Casper place him in Ismailia, Cairo, and Alexcandria, Egypt between 1942 and 1945. However, this overlaps with the period between 1942 and 1946 when he was assuredly in India and Pakistan. Possibly, Casper’s regiment was duty-based in Egypt but deployed elsewhere as needed? As we speak, I’m attempting to obtain Casper’s military dossier from the United Kingdom’s Military of Defence to better understand the sequence of his deployments.
My friend Brian Cooper, an amateur English military historian who has assisted me immeasurably in learning where my father’s first cousin, Heinz Loewenstein, was incarcerated during the war, recognized that in several of Casper’s photos where he is sporting a beret, he is wearing a badge of the Glider Pilot Regiment. (Figure 24) A 1946 group picture of Casper’s regiment labeled “Sergeant’s Mess. Glider Pilot Depot” shows the regimental badge. (Figure 25) Casper’s album includes photos of him piloting his glider (Figure 26) and flying over the Indus and elsewhere. It’s obvious Casper was a glider pilot, at least in India and Pakistan. (Figure 27)
Having never previously come across any of my distant ancestors who were glider pilots during WWII, nor photos of their activities, I did a little research. It’s quite engrossing. The most widely used glider during the war was the Waco CG-4A. Given that Casper adopted a mutt during his time in India which he named “Waco” (Figure 28) it is reasonable to assume he piloted one of these crafts.
Gliders from India supported military operations in Burma during WWII. Special operation units battled the Japanese army in Burma attempting to reopen the Burma Road linking India and China. Waco CG-4A gliders were used to land troops, ammunition, medical supplies, and even mules to carry supplies. Significantly, in a special operations battle using gliders to fight the Japanese army in Burma, more than 9,000 fighters were dropped 165 miles behind Japanese lines.
Fascinatingly, some gliders carried up to three mules; the pilots or handlers always had a pistol at the ready to shoot any mules that went berserk. While this may sound cruel, it is important to understand that a glider is built of steel tubing and doped fabric (i.e., a textile material that is impregnated with a chemical compound, known as “dope,” the primary purpose of which is to cause shrinkage of the fabric, thus making it taut and improving the flow of air over it during flight) so that it would take little for a mule to kick out the side of a glider endangering the crew and craft.
Gliders were advantageous because they could deploy large numbers of troops quickly and accurately. Also, they could land in small, inaccessible areas where a larger aircraft couldn’t land. They were also used to transport heavier equipment that was too large for parachutes or other transport aircraft. The India-Burma campaign involved difficult terrain that made it difficult to land gliders, so they were often treated as semi-expendable.
Allied forces retrieved gliders using twin-engine transports, such as a C-47 transport planes (Figure 29), through a technique referred to as “glider snatching.” The tactic involved having the transport plane fly low to the ground and quickly hooking onto a special attachment point on the glider, essentially “snatching” it into the air without needing to land. This allowed for the retrieval of troops or supplies from a combat zone where landing might be impossible; this was referred to as a “glider snatch pick-up.” This maneuver was considered risky due to the need for precise timing and low flying altitude. The Allies also used twin-engine transports to snatch up gliders filled with wounded soldiers and fly them to hospitals.
Returning briefly to the cigar box Tom Brook showed me. (see Figure 5) I shared pictures I’d taken of it with Helen, who in turn passed it along to one of our mutual German cousins. It appears that one of the captions is the beginning of Heinrich Heine’s lyrical love poem, “Die Lorelei.” According to modern scholars, Heine is now seen as a romantic poet, for his passion, his independence of mind, and his hatred of political repression. However, he was critical of German Romanticism, which he saw as idealizing the feudal past, being a deterrent to political progress, and encouraging xenophobia. For this reason, his books were later banned by the Nazis. The inclusion of Heine’s poem on Felix Bruck’s cigar box may have signified his attachment to liberal principles.
More could certainly be gleaned from Casper’s photos, but my intent has merely been to highlight a few unique images that provide a sense of the theaters in which Casper Bruck fought. For readers holding comparable collections of family photos, military or otherwise, scrutinizing them with a hand lens will no doubt yield some intriguing finds. Personally, I repeatedly find myself returning to my father’s pictures, continually discovering something I’d previously missed.
REFERENCES
Battles of El-Alamein. Britannica. https://www.britannica.com/event/battles-of-El-Alamein
India in World War II (2024, October 17). In Wikipedia. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/India_in_World_War_II
National WWII Glider Pilots Association. 1944, India/Burma was the glider snatching capital of the world. https://ww2gp.org/burma/buma_compulation.pdf
National WWII Glider Pilots Association. GliderPickup. https://www.ww2gp.org/gliderpickup/
Second Battle of El Alamein (2024, December 6). In Wikipedia. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_Battle_of_El_Alamein
Tunisia 1942-1943. British Infantry Divisions. British Military History. Docs – Tunisia 1942 – 1943 – British Infantry Divisions – British Military History
Note: In my most overtly political post, I discuss the Nazi decrees that led my father and a relative by marriage to become stateless. I consider this topic in the context of my ongoing German citizenship application process permitted by German law as a descendant of my father who was “deprived” of his German nationality in 1941.
After many years contemplating applying for German citizenship, I recently started assembling the notarized documents to make this a reality. I had always intended to do this as a practical exercise that I could then write about on my blog. However, the current uncivil body politic here in America makes this more imperative than ever. To those who say, “fascism can never happen in America,” I merely remind readers this is what many German Jews said after Hitler was appointed Chancellor by President Paul von Hindenburg on the 30th of January 1933. The phrase “those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it” comes to mind. I choose to be prepared.
The initiation of my German citizenship application has me thinking about how my father, Dr. Otto Bruck, and Ernst Mombert, subject of my previous Post 165, came to be referred to as “apatride,” the French word for stateless. This term is used on both of their official contemporary French documents.
Some context is helpful.
Germany’s Federal Office of Administration provides information on the statutory basis for “naturalization on grounds of restoration of German citizenship after deprivation.” Pursuant to Article 116(2) of the Basic Law (Grundgesetz, GG) of the Federal Republic of Germany, persons who were “deprived” of their German citizenship by the National Socialists between 1933 and 1945 are entitled to naturalization. This means that the persons had been German citizens and were deprived of this citizenship in the National Socialist era or that a naturalization that had taken place between 1918 and 1933 was revoked.
As defined in Article 116(2) GG (Grundgesetz), persons are deemed to have been “deprived” of their German citizenship on political, racial, or religious grounds whenever this citizenship was either:
Such people and their descendants have been entitled to naturalization by the GG since 24 May 1949.
In the case of the 1933 act, individual cases of deprivation of German citizenship were published in the Reich Gazette (Reichsanzeiger). With respect to the 1941 decree, this applied to all German citizens of Jewish faith who had their habitual residence abroad when the ordinance entered into force or later resided abroad. It’s on this basis that I qualify to apply for German citizenship through descent from my father.
As a sidebar, I would note that incorporation of “revocation of naturalizations” in the title of the 1933 Act is particularly pertinent as I listen to the current vitriol being spewed from fascist-loving cultists anxious to return to the past. I’m reminded of another saying, often attributed to Edmund Burke, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
As mentioned above, Hitler was appointed German Chancellor on the 30th of January 1933. It’s not clear precisely when Ernst Mombert, a relative by marriage, left Germany nor what profession he was engaged in at the time. However, by November 1933, Ernst had purchased a fruit farm in Fayence (Var), France, and essentially became a farmer. Because the circumstances related to the application of the 1933 Act all related to naturalizations that took place between 1918 and 1933, this Act would not have applied to Ernst Mombert nor deprived him of his German citizenship. I think he would not have lost his citizenship until the 25 November 1941 Act was passed.
My father’s circumstances were different though I think he too became stateless under the Reich Citizens Act of 25 November 1941. In the early 1930s, my father Dr. Otto Bruck (Figure 1) was a dental apprentice in the Free City of Danzig, and I believe was briefly living with his aunt Hedwig Loewenstein, nee Bruck (Figure 2), and cousins in Danzig [today: Gdansk, Poland]. By April 9, 1932, he had opened his own dental practice in nearby Tiegenhof [today: Nowy Dwór Gdański, Poland], also located within the Free City of Danzig. My father’s surviving 1932 Day Planner gives the precise day he arrived in Tiegenhof.
Just a brief footnote. While “Free City of Danzig” and “Free State of Danzig” are often used interchangeably, the key difference lies in the level of precision. “Free City” is generally considered the more accurate term, as it specifically refers to Danzig as a self-governing city-state under the protection of the League of Nations after WWI, whereas “Free State” implies a slightly larger, more autonomous territory encompassing the city and surrounding areas, though this interpretation is less common in historical context. Throughout this post, I use “Free City.”
By my calculation, my father lived in the Free City between ca. 1930-1932 until 1937. Theoretically, he would have had two options vis-à-vis citizenship. He could have retained his German citizenship or opted to become a citizen of the Free City, a so-called Danziger. Given that he lived and worked in the Free City, logically he would eventually have become a citizen there, but for the war. However, Free City citizenship does not appear to have been a precondition for owning and operating a business there. More on this below.
The gentleman at the German Embassy assisting me with my German citizenship application sent me a copy of a so-called “Optionsurkunde” that documented the switch from Danziger to German Reich for another individual applying for German citizenship. (Figure 3) He asked me to look for such a document among my father’s surviving papers, but if he ever switched nationality no such document survives. According to the official from the German Embassy, copies of these Optionsurkunden in the archives were likely destroyed during the war making it impossible for me to know for sure whether my father became a Danziger.
Had my father become a Danziger, I presume he could have held dual citizenship. I base this assumption on the fact that he had driver’s licenses simultaneously from both the German Reich and the Free City in 1935, the pair of which are in my possession. (Figures 4a-b; 5a-b)
Curious whether the Optionsurkunden might have survived, I recalled a Ms. Regina Stein, a German provenance researcher of museum collections in Berlin, who’d assisted me in 2021 on another matter. I misremembered her as a forensic genealogist. Regardless, I contacted her asking whether she’d ever come across such documents. Unfamiliar with them, Regina reached out to her network of colleagues involved in genealogical research.
One of her associates, Ms. Sabine Ruks, responded. She provided information that at least in my mind clarifies my father’s situation with respect to whether he ever became a Danziger. Beyond that, however, her analysis places my father’s situation in terms of citizenship in a broader temporal and geopolitical framework. Let me explain.
My father was born in 1907 in Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland] in Upper Silesia. Following Germany’s defeat during WWI, the terms of the Versailles Treaty mandated that a plebiscite be conducted in Upper Silesia. This referendum was intended to determine ownership of the province between Weimar Germany, the constitutional federal republic that existed between 1918 and 1933, and Poland; the region was ethnically mixed with both Germans and Poles. The outcome of the plebiscite, which was marred by violence, was that Upper Silesia was divided. The eastern part of the province went to Poland, while the western part, including Ratibor, remained German. Therefore, the question of my father opting for German nationality following the plebiscite never arose.
My Bruck family lived in Berlin from at least 1927 onwards. Clearly, this would not have raised any option (Optionsurkunde). My father’s move to the Free City of Danzig should likewise not have raised this either, although this question requires further examination.
The Free City of Danzig was ceded by the German Reich on November 15, 1920, and placed under the protection of the League of Nations. Poland took over the foreign policy representation. Therefore, passports were marked with “Citizenship: Free City of Poland.”
The Free City of Danzig ceased to exist after Germany invaded Poland on the 1st of September 1939, followed shortly thereafter by the absorption of the Free City into the German Reich. Made up mostly of Germans and governed by a largely pro-Nazi government, Danzigers welcomed Nazi incorporation into the German Reich.
From September 1, 1939, the law on the reunification of the Free City of Danzig with the German Reich made them “Germans in accordance with detailed regulations.” As Sabine Ruks notes, “Until then, a foreigner could obtain Danzig citizenship if he or she had lived there for five consecutive years before applying (from January 11, 1920, at the earliest). Otto Bruck lived in the city-state from at least 1932 and could therefore have applied for the first time around 1938, in this case to the Danzig authorities. But even if that had been the case, he would have become German again by law on September 1, 1939.” (Sabine Ruks, personal communication)
Regardless, by September 1939, my father had long quit Tiegenhof and was in Algeria with the French Foreign Legion. While not relevant to my father since he had long-ago left Germany and had already become stateless as of 25 November 1941, the loss of Germany’s eastern territories after WWII did not affect the citizenship of Germans who’d fled from there: they continued to retain German nationality.
I want to end this post by discussing one of my father’s maternal cousins, a man named Ernst Berliner (i.e., Berliner was my paternal grandmother’s maiden name), who also became stateless. (Figures 6a-b)
“This is a collection of individual index cards of Jews who had their German nationality annulled by the Nazis. The records were created when German citizenship was revoked because of the anti-Semitic Nuremberg Laws of 1935. The laws spelled out exactly who was considered Jewish and who was allowed German citizenship and its accompanying rights. The Nuremberg Laws also prevented Jews from marrying those of German descent.
These records were filmed from index cards at the Berlin Document Center in 1959. The records have some suffix names added, Israel for men and Sara for women, which were used to readily identify Jews. The records include information on:
Name
Birth Date
Birthplace
Occupation
Last address”
Confused as to the overlap in dates and the varying authorities depriving Jews of German nationality, I asked a German friend and my contact at the German Embassy about these things. They explained that while the names of Jews whose nationality was annulled between 1935 and 1944 because of the Nuremberg Laws of 1935 were ALSO published in the Reichsanzeiger, such individuals and their descendants claim restoration of German nationality under a different authority, specifically Section 15 of the German Nationality Act (Staatsangehörigkeitsgesetz, StAG). In the case of Ernst Berliner, his name was published on the 23rd of February 1938 issue of the Reichsanzeiger. (Figures 7a-b)
Pursuant to Section 15 StAG, persons who lost their German citizenship in some way other than because of the 1933 and 1945 decrees or who were never able to acquire German citizenship due to Nazi persecution and their descendants can become German citizens. Suffice it to say, this provision benefits in particular persons who lost their German citizenship after their flight, for instance, by virtue of a foreign citizenship or through marriage with a foreign national. Compared to naturalizations under the GG which have been in effect since 24 May 1949, naturalizations under StAG have only been permitted since 20 August 2021.
I know of several friends and relatives who’ve applied for German nationality, several successfully. An advantage I have stems from having worked and written about my family’s history for over ten years, so I am generally familiar where the original vital certificates are located that have not been digitized. Case in point, as we speak, I’m trying to obtain a certified copy of my father’s birth certificate from the archives in the town where my father was born. I’m also eligible to apply for French nationality through my mother. A German passport would allow me unrestricted stays in countries that are members of the European Union, so if the EU continues to exist there is no obvious advantage to obtaining French nationality. Still, as an intellectual exercise it might be an interesting challenge.
Note: In this post, I examine newly acquired documents obtained from France’s Ministère des Armées related to a man named Ernst Mombert arrested and deported from France to Auschwitz with my aunt Suzanne Müller, née Bruck in August-September 1942.
As I write this post, I’m reminded of what the mother of one of my former girlfriends told her when she was working on her doctorate, “you’re learning more and more about less and less.” Such is the case of a man related by marriage to my family who I introduced in earlier posts, Ernst Mombert (“Ernest” in France); he was arrested in Fayence, France in August 1942, along with my father’s beloved sister, Suzanne Müller, née Bruck. (Figure 1) Their fates were already known to me.
However, recently I’ve learned more about Ernst thanks to a French student from Toulon, France, Julia Saintgermain. (Figure 2) In commemoration of the 80th anniversary in 2022 of the mass deportations of Jews from the Var department of France, where both Toulon and Fayence are situated, as a school project Julia and her schoolmates researched some Jewish victims of this extradition. Julia selected Ernst and Suzanne and came across my blog in the process. Julia contacted me and eventually supplemented what I’d uncovered. I will discuss these recent discoveries. What I learned about Ernst in small part informs me about my aunt’s final weeks, so it is materially relevant.
A little context. My aunt Suzanne (1904-1942) was married to an older gentleman, my uncle Dr. Franz Müller (1871-1945) (Figure 3), who was 33 years her senior; he had two children from a previous marriage, Peter Müller-Munk and Karin Margit Müller-Munk. Because of Franz’s and Suzanne’s age difference, her “stepchildren” were roughly the same age as her. Franz’s daughter Margit was married to Franz Mombert (“Francois” in French), Ernst’s brother, and the two co-owned a fruit farm in Fayence, France. After my aunt and uncle were forced to leave Fiesole, Italy, outside Florence, in September 1938, after earlier fleeing Berlin, Germany in late 1935 or early 1936, they took refuge at Ernst and Franz’s farm in Fayence, France.
While researching Ernst Mombert, Julia stumbled on Posts 22 & 23 where I introduced him to readers. She initially asked whether I knew how he’d wound up in the various detention camps in France he is documented to have been incarcerated in during the war (more on this below). As I discussed in Post 119, I’d only been aware he’d been briefly detained in a place called “Le Camp de La Rode” near Toulon, so was unable to answer her question though I was equally intrigued.
Julia obtained a file on Ernest Mombert from France’s “Ministère des Armées” in November 2022, which she graciously shared. (Figure 4) In this post I’ll discuss several new things I learned from this dossier. I would reiterate two points I’ve made in previous posts. First, the assistance of readers and people whom I refer to as “my boots on the ground,” particularly native German and French speakers, has often given me access to documentary evidence I would likely never have found on my own. Second, I find it illuminating that extensive files often exist on Jews murdered during the Holocaust, as though documenting their deaths was more important than celebrating their lives and accomplishments. I acknowledge there may have been pragmatic reasons for post-mortem documentation, such as resolving estate issues.
The Ministère’s file includes documents from their archives of the so-called “Ministère Des Anciens Combattants Et Victimes De Guerre,” Ministry of Veterans and Victims of War. I’ll discuss some of these records beginning with the most recent and working my way backwards.
In Post 23, I talked about my aunt and Ernst’s arrest in Fayence in August 1942 by the Vichy (Figure 5), and the overarching geopolitical environment surrounding the timing. In that earlier post, I also highlighted the last three “postcards” (Figures 6a-c) my aunt ever sent following her arrest; the postmarks and dates on the cards provide clues as to the exact date of her and Ernst’s seizure and the route by which they were ultimately deported to and murdered in Auschwitz. Because her first card was dated the 26th of August 1942 from a place near Fayence called Draguignan, 19 miles to the southwest, I assumed she’d been taken prisoner several days prior. It turns out that according to the dossier, this is the precise date Ernst and Suzanne were detained and began their final journey. My aunt clearly wasted no time communicating with her husband following her arrest.
On one page in the report dated the 13th of August 1946 (Figure 7), the following telling sentences are written: “Arreté 26/8/42 par la gendarmerie de Fayence comme Israelite. Étranger, deporté de Drancy le 7/9/1942, depuis sans nouvelles.” Translated: “Arrested the 26th of August 1942 by the Fayence constables as a Jew. Foreigner, deported to Drancy on the 7th of September 1942, no news since.” This page along with one or two others in the dossier from the Ministère des Armées confirm the date that Ernst Mombert and my aunt Suzanne were arrested in Fayence. This passage begs dissection.
First some historical background. Nazi Germany captured France during WWII following the abbreviated Battle of France that lasted from only May 10, 1940, until June 25, 1940. The occupation of France by Nazi Germany at first affected only the northern and western portions of the country. The remainder of Metropolitan France was the rump state of Vichy France headed by Marshal Philippe Petain. Fayence was in this so-called unoccupied “free zone” (zone libre). Vichy France adopted a policy of collaboration with Nazi Germany which entailed helping the German authorities deport Jews to killing centers, explaining why Franz and my aunt were arrested by the Fayence constables rather than their Nazi overlords. In November 1942 Germany and their Italian allies finally occupied Vichy France, the zone libre.
A 2017 article I came across by Paul Webster, entitled “The Vichy Policy on Jewish Deportation,” speaks to this tragic French collaboration:
“Even some pro-German states took a stand. Fascist Hungary resisted Nazi demands to hand over Jews until the country was invaded in 1944. Italy had anti-Semitic laws, but nevertheless defended French Jews in south-eastern France, which was occupied by the Italian army, and thus saved thousands of lives.
The last example is the most relevant to the tragic French experience, whose consequences are yet to be resolved. More than 60 years after a collaborationist French government helped deport 75,721 Jewish refugees and French citizens to Nazi death camps, the national conscience has still not come to terms with the betrayal of a community persecuted by French anti-Semitic laws.”
As a half-French, half-German Jew, this last paragraph explains my highly ambivalent attitude towards the French, namely, their unwillingness to acknowledge and apologize for their complicity in the persecution and murder of Jews during and immediately following WWII.
In the file, Ernst is characterized as “étranger,” foreigner. (see Figure 7) While clearly a Jewish refugee from Germany, by the time of his deportation, he had owned land and been a farmer in Fayence since 1933. (Figure 8) Like my father, Ernst was characterized as “apatride,” stateless (see Figure 7), so thereby not afforded the protection that long-term residency should have bestowed.
Another page in the dossier from the Ministère des Armées dated the 20th of July 1946 uses the words “NON RENTRE” (Figure 9) as regards Ernst Mombert’s whereabouts at the time. Translated as “not returned,” this is a highly charged expression, as I learned. It was a transparent effort by French authorities to avoid culpability for the fate of deportees, most of whom had been transported by the French using their railway system to the German collection center of Drancy outside Paris, a known transit point to the concentration camp of Auschwitz. There can be no doubt the French knew most deportees had been murdered and would never return.
This leads me to a brief discussion in a historical fiction book by Anne Berest my wife Ann is currently reading, entitled “The Postcard,” that coincidentally speaks to this very point regarding the French government. Quoting:
“‘After the war, Myriam wanted to file an official record for each member of her family.’
‘What kind of record?’
‘Death certificates.’
‘Oh. Yes. . .of course.’
‘It was extremely complicated. It took almost two years of dealing with endless bureaucratic red tape for Myriam to file a record. And bear in mind: at the time, the French government still wouldn’t officially use the terms “killed in concentration camp” or “deported.” The term they used was “not returned.” Do you understand what that meant? The symbolism?’
‘Yes. The French government was saying to the Jews, your families weren’t murdered because of our actions. They just. . .haven’t come back.’” (2021:255)
As Anne Berest implies, the hypocrisy is breathtaking.
The fact Ernst Mombert never came back is reflected on several pages in the dossier, including a document dated the 30th of October 1946, titled “Acte De Disparition,” Deed of Disappearance, or the date he went missing. (Figure 10)
In the case of four of Anne Berest’s “not returned” relatives, it took until October 26, 1948, for them to be officially declared “missing.” The next phase of her ordeal then began with her fight for official death certificates, which only a judgment by a civil court could render in the absence of bodies. When the judgment was eventually handed down on July 15, 1949, seven years after her relatives died, stunningly, the official place of death of her relatives was Drancy, as it would also have been for Ernst and Suzanne. In other words, the French government didn’t recognize that they died at Auschwitz. Thus, the deported went from “not returned,” to “missing,” to “deceased on French soil.” (2021: 255-56) The official death dates were the date the deportation convoys left Drancy. In the case of Ernst and Suzanne, who were aboard the same convoy, their death dates would have been recorded as the 7th of September 1942 when the transport left Drancy.
In Anne’s case, the Ministère Des Anciens Combattants Et Victimes De Guerre even requested the trial court prosecutor to specify the place of death as Auschwitz, but they rejected this request. Additionally, the court prosecutor refused to say at the time that the Jews had been deported because of race, but rather said it was for political reasons. It took Anne until 1996, after vigorous lobbying, that official recognition of “death by deportation” was granted and the death certificates were amended. (2021: 256)
In the case of Ernst’s certificate of death, his death judgment was rendered by the Draguignan civil court on the 17th of July 1947, but there is no mention of “death by deportation” since the judgment was made well before 1996. (Figure 11) My aunt’s death certificate was similarly issued by the Draguignan civil court more than two years later, on the 21st of September 1949. (Figure 12) The certificate states she was deported to Poland, but again no mention of “death by deportation.”
TRANSCRIPTION OF ERNST MOMBERT’S DECLARATION OF DEATH (see Figure 11)
en marge à gauche est écrit :
“transcription du jugement, déclaration du décès de Mombert Ernest”
sur la page est écrit :
“Mairie de Fayence, arrondissement de Draguignan”
“Le 7 décembre 1947, 10 heures, nous, maire de la commune de Fayence avons procédé à la transcription du jugement déclaratif du décès ci-après.
d’un jugement rendu par le tribunal de première instance de Draguignan établi le 17 juillet 1947.
Il a été extrait ce qui suit :
Par ces motifs, le tribunal sévit de première instance de Draguignan, après en avoir délibéré en jugement conformément à la loi
Déclare le décès de Mombert Ernest apatride d’origine allemande né à Frisbourg en Brisgau (Allemagne) le 9 juillet 1911 du mariage de Paul Mombert et de Gieser Cornelie, domicilié en dernier lieu à Fayence (Var)
déporté le 7 septembre 1942
ordonne la transcription du présent jugement sur les registres courants de l’état civil de la commune de Fayence (Var) et du lieu de naissance de Mombert Ernest
Dit que mention en sera faite pour être en besoin sera ainsi jugée et prononcé à Draguignan en audience publique tenue au Palais de Justice de ladite ville le 17 juillet 1947
par messieurs Basque président, Beleret juge doyen, madame Parivet Thierrot juge en présence
de monsieur Clagnier juge suppléant occupant le siège du ministère public
assistés de monsieur Mailhare greffier
Enregistré à Draguignan le 22 juillet 1947
folio 29, case 290 pratis
le receveur Jeanne Cairrail et de cette transcription nous vous dressons la présente note que nous avons signée à la requête de monsieur le procureur de la République suivant note du 4 courant
approuvons la rature de 55 mots rayés nuls”
TRANSLATION
In the margin on the left is written:
“Transcription of the judgment, declaration of the death of Mombert Ernest”
On the page is written:
“Fayence City Town Hall, Draguignan district”
“On December 7, 1947, 10 a.m., we, the mayor of the municipality of Fayence, proceeded to the transcription of the declaratory judgment of death below.
Of a judgment rendered by the Draguignan Court of First Instance established on July 17, 1947.
The following has been extracted:
For these reasons, the court is in the first instance of Draguignan, after having deliberated in judgment in accordance with the law.
Declares the death of stateless Mombert Ernest of German origin born in Frieburg in Brisgau (Germany) on July 9, 1911 from the marriage of Paul Mombert and Gieser Cornelie, last domiciled in Fayence (Var).
Deported on September 7, 1942.
Orders the transcription of this judgment on the current registers of the civil status of the municipality of Fayence (Var) and the place of birth of Mombert Ernest.
Said that mention will be made to be in need will thus be tried and pronounced in Draguignan in a public hearing held at the Palace of Justice of said city on July 17, 1947.
By gentlemen Basque president, Beleret judge dean, Mrs. Parivet Thierrot judge in presence.
Of Mr. Clagnier substitute judge occupying the seat of the public prosecutor’s office.
Assisted by Mr. Mailhare clerk.
Registered in Draguignan on July 22, 1947.
Folio 29, case 290 practices.”
The receiver Jeanne Cairrail and from this transcript we give you this note that we signed at the request of the Public Prosecutor following note of 4 current.
Let’s approve the erasure of 55 null crossed out words.
Let me turn to another topic referred to in the Ministère’s document file, namely, the places and dates in France where Ernst Mombert was interned (Figure 13):
These are the internments Julia Saintgermain first asked me whether I knew anything about. As I mentioned above, prior to obtaining the dossier documenting the above internments, the only place where I’d found a fleeting reference that Ernst had been held was “Le Camp de la Rode” near Toulon. I found this in a publication by André Fontaine entitled “Quelques Camps du Sud-Est 1939-1940.” Because I can find no mention of this as an internment camp, I think it may simply have been a collection or transit point.
I suspect Ernst was detained here very, very briefly, possibly only from the 4th of September 1939 until around the 16th of September 1939. Let me explain my reasoning by providing some context.
Let me review what I discussed in Post 119. WWII began with the German invasion of Poland on September 1, 1939. The next day, France decreed a national mobilization. Internment sites for nationals of the German Reich (i.e., German, Austrian, and Czech emigrants) were planned and requisitioned in every French departement. By the 3rd of September, the French Minister of the Interior sent a telegram to each prefecture concerning the “concentration of foreigners from the German empire.” Immediately notifications about the planned roundups were circulated and posters put up in the town halls. All male nationals of the German Reich between 17 and 50 were required to report for incarceration. Male nationals from the department of Var were initially detained in La Rode near Toulon. This city is on the French Riviera located 74 miles southwest of Fayence.
Now according to the Ministère’s dossier Ernst was detained in Les Milles as of the 4th of September 1939. André Fontaine very specifically places Ernst in Toulon at La Rode, so sometime around the 4th of September Ernst turned himself into the French authorities there. Why then is Ernst shown as incarcerated in Les Milles on that precise date? If, as I theorize, La Rode was never more than a collection or transit point, technically a “subcamp” of Les Milles, the place of Ernst’s initial incarceration may simply have been recorded as Les Milles.
André Fontaine remarks the following on the transfer of the German Reich nationals to Les Milles from Toulon: “On September 16, 1939, the departure from Toulon was announced: a truck took the luggage at 6pm and the train left at 9pm. The arrival was only the next morning in Aix-en-Provence [Editor’s Note: location of Les Milles], after 15 hours of train to cover 90 km [Editor’s Note: 55 miles].” On these grounds, I surmise Ernst was among the detainees transferred from Toulon to Aix-en-Provence on the 16th of September 1939.
Based on when nationals of the German Reich were required to report for internment, sometime around the 4th of September 1939, and when detainees were transported from La Rode to Les Milles, the 16th of September 1939, circumscribes Ernst’s detention dates in La Rode, so I think.
From the dossier, we learn that Ernst was incarcerated for over a year in Les Milles (Figures 14-15) until the 25th of October 1940. According to the timeline provided, Ernst’s next internment was in Gurs, a large concentration camp in southwestern France, located 385 miles west of Aix-en-Provence. Ernst’s internment there started the day after it ended in Les Milles, the 26th of October 1940. It seems highly unlikely the distance between the two places could have been covered in one day. The reason for Ernst’s transfer from one camp to the other is unknown, though it took place many months after the Vichy government signed an armistice with the Nazis on the 22nd of June 1940. Had the Nazis intended to deport the Jews to Drancy from Gurs, as they later did, they could just as easily have done so from Les Milles, as they also later did.
According to the dossier, Ernst’s internment at Gurs ended on the 15th of May 1941. Whether Ernst was released or escaped from there is unknown though clearly he returned to his farm in Fayence, where the file claims he was last interned from the 26th of August 1942 until the 7th of September 1942. These latter dates are in error. The last three “postcards” written by my aunt following her and Ernst’s arrest on the 26th of August 1942 confirm this. Her cards were dated and/or postmarked, respectively, from Draguignan on the 26th of August, from Les Milles in Aix-en-Provence on the 29th of August, and from Avignon on the 2nd of September. For whatever bureaucratic reason, Ernst’s stops on his way to Drancy, outside Paris, were all recorded as part of his incarceration in Fayence.
Ernst Mombert was incarcerated twice in Les Milles in Aix-en-Provence, the first time supposedly beginning on the 4th of September 1939 until the 25th of October 1940, then briefly a second time simultaneously with my aunt around the 29th of August 1942. I can only imagine how Kafkaesque it must have seemed to Ernst to be returned to a concentration camp he thought he’d escaped from.
Except for the period between the 15th of May 1941 and the 26th of August 1942, Ernst was almost continuously incarcerated in France from September 1939 until he was deported to Auschwitz in September 1942. First, following Germany’s invasion of Poland on the 1st of September 1939, as a German Jew refugee living in France, he was incredulously perceived and incarcerated as a possible quisling. Then, after Germany conquered France, he was interned as a Jew which led to his untimely death in September 1942. (Figure 16) Though my aunt’s route to Auschwitz followed a different pathway, her fate was identical. (Figures 17)
Fontaine, André. Quelques camps du Sud-Est, 1939-1940 [réfugiés allemands], Recherches régionales. Centre de documentation des Alpes-Maritimes, 1988, 29e année, n° 3, p. 179-206.
Note: In this lengthy and involved post, I continue to discuss recently obtained documents related to the Nazi SS and Wehrmacht soldier Prinz Wilhelm von Hessen-Philippsthal-Barchfeld. As with other individuals discussed in my blog, notably one of my father’s first cousins, Heinz Löwenstein, my knowledge about them is not obtained linearly but rather comes in spurts and episodically. Inevitably, my Jewish family came into contact and had their lives convulsed by the Nazis so for this reason I will occasionally discuss the fate of some of these individuals.
My continued interest in the Nazi Schutzstaffel (SS) and Wehrmacht soldier Prinz Wilhelm von Hessen-Philippsthal-Barchfeld stems from the fact that in Posts 133, Parts I & II, I misidentified him as Reinhard Heydrich, the notorious “Butcher of Prague.” The picture in which the putative Heydrich appeared was a group photo taken at Castle Kamenz (Figures 1a-b) in Lower Silesia [today: Kamieniec Ząbkowicki, Poland], purportedly in 1936 or 1937.
To remind readers Reinhard Heydrich was a high-ranking German SS and police official during the Nazi era and a principal architect of the Holocaust. Heydrich was chief of the SS’s Reichssicherheitshauptamt (RHSA), the Reich Security Main Office, and Stellvertretender Reichsprotektor, Deputy Protector of Bohemia and Moravia. The resemblance of the individual in the group photo to Heydrich, and the fact the person was clearly dressed in a SS uniform convinced me he was indeed Heydrich. I further explained in Posts 133, Parts I & II how and why Heydrich might have been at Castle Kamenz at the time the picture was taken. For these reasons I had no reason to question the identification.
My misidentification might well have gone unnoticed save for the fact that an astute German physics teacher with an avid interest in German military history pointed out my mistake. He told me the Nazi in the SS uniform at Castle Kamenz was Prinz Wilhelm von Hessen, a relative of Prinz Friedrich Heinrich Albrecht von Preussen (Figure 2), the then-owner of the castle. While initially hesitant to believe I’d made such a blatant error, I realized further investigation was necessary given the high standard of accuracy to which I strive. I used an artificial intelligence application to confirm that Wilhelm was indeed Heydrich’s doppelganger. This was the subject of Post 157 & Post 157, Postscript.
Some brief background on the group photo. It was furnished to me by a reader who stumbled upon Post 46 where I discussed Prinz Friedrich Heinrich Albrecht von Preussen. This reader, related to both Prinz Friedrich and Prinz Wilhelm, originally estimated the picture was taken in 1936 or 1937, though the evidence now suggests it was probably taken in 1935; more on this below. While the reader who sent me the photo was initially reluctant to believe Heydrich was Prinz Wilhelm von Hessen, additional research he’s undertaken proves this is the case.
Below I discuss recently uncovered evidence of Prinz Wilhelm von Hessen’s time and place of death and review the earlier documents related to Wilhelm von Hessen’s Nazi Party membership and military service discussed in Post 157, Postscript. This data helps explain why in the ca. 1935 picture Wilhelm von Hessen is wearing a SS uniform while in subsequent images he is dressed as a Wehrmacht soldier. The recent records confirm Wilhelm von Hessen’s fate in the Soviet Union following Germany’s defeat at the Battle of Moscow and its subsequent retreat.
As I explained in Post 157, Postscript, the Berlin State Archives retains a list of members of the National Socialist German Workers’ Party (German: Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei or NSDAP), the Nazi Party, who were members of the royal houses. Wilhelm Prinz von Hessen-Philippsthal-Barchfeld’s name is included in this roster. (Figure 3)
The unseen column headings from this list of aristocrats who were members of the Nazi Party and the information specific to Wilhelm von Hessen reads as follows:
“Region” (Kurhessen)
“Name” (Prinz Wilhelm von Hessen)
“Date of Birth” (1st of March 1905)
“Member Number” (of the Nazi Party) (1187621)
“Date of Admission” (to the Nazi Party) 1st of May 1932)
“Remarks” (in Prinz Wilhelm’s case, it shows that he died on the 1st of May 1942).
The roster indicates Wilhelm died on the 1st of May 1942, but elsewhere his death is recorded as the 30th of April 1942. I reckon Wilhelm died on the 30th of April but that his death was officially recorded a day later.
Separately, some of my German contacts also found “Prinz von Hessen Wilm.,” as he’s identified, in the so-called Dienstalterliste, the SS seniority list. This is further proof that Wilhelm was indeed a member of the SS.
As discussed in Post 157, Postscript, Prinz Wilhelm von Hessen’s name appears on the Dienstalterslistenfor the years 1934-1937. Below is what these lists tell us.
Prinz von Hessen Wilhelm’s party number “1 187 621” is again shown on the SS seniority list, but in a separate column his SS member number, “52 711,” is now indicated. Wilhelm von Hessen joined the SS as a SS-Sturmführer on the 20th of April 1934. Sturmführer was a paramilitary rank of the Nazi Party which began as a title used by the Sturmabteilung (SA) in 1925 and became an actual SA rank in 1928. Translated as “storm leader or assault leader,” the origins of the rank dated to the World War I when the title of Sturmführer came to be used.
In 1934 Prinz von Hessen Wilhelm was a member of the service unit abbreviated as “F. Mo. II/27.” “F.” is short for Führer, while “Mo. Sta.” stands for “Motorstaffel,” or motorized squadron. Thus, it appears that in 1934 he was head of the motor assault team of II Sturmbann of the Standarte 27. Let me try and explain what this means. Bear in mind I know little about the organization of the SS so my explanation may be imprecise. I invite knowledgeable readers to correct and/or amplify my characterization.
The number of soldiers in a motorized squadron is unknown but was possibly only a few men. Standarte was a regimental sized unit of the SS; more on this below. Sturmbann refers to an “assault unit,” and was a paramilitary unit within the Nazi Party. As previously mentioned, the term originated from German shock troop units used during World War I who were characterized by their aggressive tactics and were often at the forefront of assaults. Putting this together suggests Wilhelm von Hessen was the motorized squadron leader of the assault unit of a particular regiment.
The number of column headings in the 1935 Dienstaltersliste was expanded to two side-by-side pages. Wilhelm’s previous rank of Sturmführer was now referred to as an Untersturmführer. A SS-Untersturmführer was the first commissioned SS officer rank, equivalent to a second lieutenant in other military organizations.
Translated, the left-hand page columns include the following information:
“Consecutive number”
“Surname & first name”
“Epee”
“Ring”
“SA sports badge”
“Reich sports badge”
“Service”
“Nazi Party Number 1-1,800,000”
“Nazi Party Number over 1,800,000”
“SS Number”
“Date of birth”
Several of the columns above refer to orders and decorations awarded during World War I by the German Empire, then later by the Nazis.
The right-hand page columns include the expanded list of SS paramilitary ranks, and the date, if applicable, that a soldier attained the rank:
The 1935 Dienstaltersliste tells us that Wilhelm von Hessen was promoted to a SS-Obersturmführer on the 9th of November 1934. A SS-Obersturmführer was typically a junior company commander in charge of fifty to a hundred men.
Then on the 20th of April 1935 he was promoted to a SS Hauptsturmführer. This rank was a mid-level commander who had equal seniority to a captain (Hauptmann) in the Wehrmacht and the equivalency of captain in foreign armies. (Figure 6)
By 1935 Wilhelm von Hessen was now attached to the “6 Mo. Sta.,” believed to mean that he was then part of the “6 Motor-Standarte.” Again, the number of soldiers in this motorized squadron is unknown. Not entirely clear to me is whether the “6 Motor-Standarte” equates to the 6th SS-Standarte, though this seems likely.
According to the Dienstalterslisten, Wilhelm von Hessen was assigned to new units in both 1936 and 1937. In 1936, he had a position in the “Stammabt. Bez. 14.” “Stammabt.” stands for “Stammabteilung,” which was a unit of the so-called Allgemeine SS (more on this below) in which men older than 45 years of age or SS members no longer fit for service were grouped together. These “Stammabteilung” were in turn divided into “Bezirke” or districts. Wilhelm von Hessen’s assignment to this organizational unit is puzzling since in 1936 he was only 31 years old and had no known physical disabilities that would have limited his fitness for service.
By 1937 Wilhelm von Hessen was no longer with the “Stammabt. Bez. 14.” but had been reassigned to the “SS Abschnitt XXVII.” This unit had originally been established in November 1933, but by October 1936 had been reorganized. SS Abschnitt XXVII was primarily an administrative and organizational unit within the Allgemeine SS. It did not directly engage in major military campaigns or operations, but instead was focused on overseeing SS activities, recruitment, and coordination within its designated area. While the unit was not involved in combat, SS Abschnitt XXVII played an essential role in supporting the Nazi regime and its ideology.
Let me quickly explain two things I mentioned above, namely, the Allgemeine SS and the Standarte.
Wilhelm was a member of the so-called “General SS,” or Allgemeine SSwhich was the administrative and the non-combative part of the SS. This is to be distinguished from the Waffen-SS which was the combat branch of the Nazi Party’s paramilitary Schutzstaffel organization.
As discussed in Post 157, the German physics teacher mentioned above tells me that in the group photo Wilhelm von Hessen is wearing the letter “M” on his collar tab. This is the badge of the Motor-Standarten of the SS. As previously mentioned, according to the Dienstaltersliste der SS for 1935, he was a member of the 6.Motor-Standarte, suggesting the group photo was taken at around this time. The SS-Standarte was the primary regimental-sized unit of the Allgemeine SS. There were 127 SS-Standarten although by 1945 most existed only on paper never reaching their prescribed strength.
The Standarten regiments each had their own number, but were also referred to by other names, such as location, a popular name, or an honorary title. After Hitler became Chancellor of Germany in 1933, the 6th SS-Standarte, for example, adopted the honorary title of “Charlottenburg” and often participated in major Nazi Party rallies held in the German capitol.
In ancestry.com, I found Prinz Wilhelm von Hessen’s military personnel card (Figure 9) which provides information on the date and place of his death and confirms the Wehrmacht unit he was a member of at the time of his death including his rank. To remind readers, I erroneously concluded in Post 157, Postscript based on inaccurate information in the German Wikipedia entry for Wilhelm von Hessen that he was a soldier in the SS at the time of his death. The transcription and translation of Wilhelm’s personnel card proves otherwise:
[Tag, Stunde, Ort und Art des Verlustes = Day, hour, place and type of loss, so of death]
30.4.42, fallen
The so-called Ersatztruppenteil, the substitute unit of which Wilhelm was at one time a member, trained soldiers to make up for the losses of the fighting regiment that fought on the front; such units were not directly involved in combat. Once the war started in 1939, the Wehrmacht started to establish these “Ersatz” substitute units for every battalion. Wilhelm’s personnel card identifies his Ersatz battalion as Schützen Ersatz Bataillon 2.
Wilhelm’s military personnel card makes two things clear. First, since Wilhelm was killed in a combat Wehrmacht regiment, he was obviously no longer involved in training soldiers in the Ersatztruppenteil. Second, since he died fighting for the Wehrmacht, clearly at some point he’d voluntarily transitioned to or been conscripted into the regular army. The question of when he transferred from the SS will now be examined in depth.
While trying to make sense of Wilhelm’s military service, including when he might have transferred from the SS to the Wehrmacht, my good friend Peter Albrecht sent me a link to a newsletter published by the so-called “Eaglehorse.org” which sheds light on this issue. This organization describes itself “. . .as a rallying point for former members of the Squadron, our German comrades in the Bundeswehr, Bundesgrenzschutz, Bayern Grenzpolizei, the people of Bad Kissingen and surrounding towns in the Squadron area of operations.” The military unit in question is the 2nd Squadron/11th Armored Cavalry Regiment (ARC), once based in Bad Kissingen, Germany.
Readers might rightly ask, “How is this relevant to Wilhelm von Hessen?” Let me explain.
It turns out that officer cadets of three Wehrmacht battalions were assigned to Manteuffel Kaserne near Bad Kissingen during the Third Reich. Eaglehorse not only chronicles their history and stories but also those of U.S. regiments later stationed there. One of the Wehrmacht battalions based at Manteuffel Kaserne included the Kradschützen Bataillon 2 (also known as “2 Krad” and “K2”), a motorcycle infantry battalion which Wilhelm von Hessen was known to be a member of. According to Eaglehorse.org, records for the three battalions at Manteuffel Kaserne “are long lost or hopelessly scattered.” However, surviving sources have allowed the group to partially reconstruct the experience of officer cadets at the time using “. . .the officer accession system of the Wehrmacht Heer and the brief ‘201’ file of a cadet then lieutenant and company commander in 2 Krad named Prince Wilhelm von Hessen. . .” It appears, then, that a file related to Wilhelm survives which allows us to accurately speculate about the experiences of German soldiers who aspired to become officers when Monteuffel Kaserne initially opened in 1935.
A brief point of clarification. The Wehrmacht consisted of three branches, the Heer (army), the Kriegsmarine (navy), and the Luftwaffe (air force).
As Eaglehorse.org notes, Germany never established a national army academy in the model of Sandhurst in England; L’Ecole Speciale Militaire de Saint Cyr in France; or West Point. Instead from the 19th century onwards Germany had several private or partially supported “cadet training schools.” These academies exposed the children of the German aristocracy and the upper middle class to the study of military tactics, organization, and discipline. A graduate of these schools could enter the army as an “Officer Aspirant” or Anwärter, a German title that translates as “candidate,” “applicant,” or “recruit,” and begin a two-year probationary period on active duty. During this time, the cadet was assigned to a so-called line unit, or regiment, and trained at the junior enlisted then mid- and senior-grade NCO levels. They received specialized training monitored at the division level, attended branch specific training courses at centralized locations and were field and academically tested to either fail or progress to the next level.
In the pre-war period, a German general by the name of Heinz Wilhelm Guderian was tasked with building the Wehrmacht’s 2nd Panzer Division. It was formed on the 15th October 1935, and was one of three tank divisions created at the time. General Guderian selected the newly promoted Major Hasso von Manteuffel from Kradschützen Bataillon 2, the same battalion in which Wilhelm von Hessen had been an officer cadet, to run the aspiring officer training program for the Panzer Division. Wilhelm von Hessen’s record as a cadet, then later as a reserve officer, has surfaced that informs us of his military service.
Quoting from Eaglehorse.org:
“Von Hessen, a minor member of a German royal family from Fulda, was highly connected to the old guard of Gernany. . .Hessen entered the Army as an aspirant officer in the reserves in 1935 with the 2 Krad in Eisenach. His title of Prince may have impressed some, but progression through the pre commissioning program was based solely on merit and achievement.
Von Hessen’s record does not specify the exact dates of advancement, however, as the unit moved to Bad Kissingen, his career clearly progressed. Perhaps at Manteuffel [EDITOR’S NOTE: BAD KISSINGEN] or in Austria [EDITOR’S NOTE: EISENSTADT, 36 MILES FROM VIENNA, AUSTRIA], he successfully passed his final examination and probationary period as a lieutenant and received his commission as a lieutenant in the reserve army with active-duty status. Upon formal commissioning, he already would have been a proven platoon leader.
Once the war began, still as a platoon leader, he was wounded in Poland and again in France. In 1941, with the campaign in Greece, he was a company commander with the K2, and, the following year, moved to a staff position with the higher command 2nd Schützen Regiment. Then, some months later, he took command of the regimental headquarters company. Continuing as a first lieutenant, as the war in Russia began and the 2nd Panzer Division was committed, he took command of Rifle Company 7 in the mechanized brigade and the same week that his promotion to captain was approved, was killed in action in April 1942.”
As I noted earlier, according to Wilhelm von Hessen’s entry in German Wikipedia he was a member of the 2nd SS Panzer Division. For this reason, I erroneously concluded that he died as a member of the SS. Confusing matters, it turns out that the Wehrmacht also had a 2nd Panzer Division, and this is the unit Wilhelm was a member of. The Wikipedia entry for the Wehrmacht’s 2nd Panzer Division matches the conflicts in Poland, France, Greece, and the Soviet Union which Wilhelm participated in according to the information in his file discussed above.
Let me turn now to another issue that may confuse readers as it did me. The SS seniority lists, the Dienstalterslisten, from 1936 and 1937 continue to include Wilhelm von Preussen’s name even though he is known by 1935 to have been in the cadet training school and as noted above assigned to the Wehrmacht’s Kradschützen Bataillon 2. This suggests Wilhelm continued to hold a commission within the SS. This possibility is supported by a sentence in Wikipedia tucked into the discussion about the Allgemeine SS: “SS members could also hold reserve commissions in the regular military as well as a Nazi Party-political rank.” This means that Wilhelm von Hessen could have been a member of the non-combative Allgemeine SS and worn their uniform, but also had a commission in the Wehrmacht and separately worn their uniform. In the case of the ca. 1935 picture Wilhelm is obviously wearing a black SS uniform while in seemingly contemporaneous photos he is in a Wehrmacht outfit. (Figure 10)
I briefly summarize Wilhelm von Hessen’s trajectory in the Nazi Party, SS, and the Wehrmacht roughly as follows. He was admitted to the Nazi Party on the 1st of May 1932; joined the SS on the 20th of April 1934; transitioned to the cadet training school and the Wehrmacht around the 15th of October 1935 when the cadet school opened in Bad Kissengen; continued to retain a commission in the SS while in the Wehrmacht until 1937; fought as a member of the 2nd Panzer Division in Poland (1939), France (1940), Greece (1941), and the Soviet Union, before eventually being killed on the 30th of April 1942 in Russia.
Before closing out this lengthy post, I want to discuss two other documents related to Wilhelm von Hessen that were found.
Peter Albrecht ordered and sent me Wilhelm’s official death certificate he obtained from the Volksbund Deutsche Kriegsgräberfürsorge e. V.(VDK), Germany’s War Graves Commission. (Figures 11a-b) It confirms that Wilhelm was in a Wehrmacht unit as a Hauptmann (Captain), and that he was killed-in-action on the 30th of April 1942 in a place called Wyschegory, Russia. The VDK included a map of the location of Wyschegory. (Figure 12) They stated that an official casualty report does not provide a clear grave location, and that he likely could not be buried by his comrades. They noted that Wilhelm probably rests in an unmarked grave, and that if he’s eventually found he will be moved to a war cemetery in Germany. Wilhelm’s death was reported in the New York Times. (Figures 13a-b)
By way of historic context, Nazi Germany’s invasion of the Soviet Union, known as Operation Barbarossa, started on Sunday, the 22nd of June 1941. The failure of Operation Barbarossa reversed the fortunes of Nazi Germany. The German offensive came to an end during the Battle of Moscow near the end of 1941 and resulted in the Wehrmacht’s defeat and the eventual collapse of Nazi Germany in 1945.
Possibly, Wilhelm’s unit was retreating westward following the Battles of Rzhev (Tver Oblast, Russia) when he was killed near Belyi (Tver Oblast, Russia). Belyi is about 74 miles west-southwest of Rzhev. (Figure 14) The likelihood that Wilhelm was involved in the Battles of Rzhev is conjecture.
While I found Wilhelm’s military personnel card in ancestry, I also found his “death certificate” from Herleshausen in the German state of Hesse. (Figures 15a-b) The page is from the town’s civil registry book. This certificate was completed on the 7th of August 1942, so several months following Wilhelm’s death in Russia. Herleshausen is where Wilhelm and his wife and children lived in a castle now owned by his great-grandson.
Below is a transcription and translation of the page:
TRANSCRIPTION:
Nr. 16 – Herleshausen, den 7. August 1942 Der Hauptmann der Reserve Prinz und Landgraf Wilhelm von Hessen, gottgläubig, wohnhaft in Herleshausen Schloss Augustenau ist am 30. April 1942 um — Uhr — Minuten (Todesstunde unbekannt) bei Wyschegory, östlicher Kriegsschauplatz, verstorben. Der Verstorbene war geboren am 1. März 1905 in Rotenburg an der Fulda (Standesamt Rotenburg Nr. 21). Vater: Landgraf Chlodwig von Hessen Mutter: Landgräfin Karoline von Hessen geborene Prinzessin zu Solms-Hohensolms-Lich Der Verstorbene war verheiratet mit der Prinzessin Marianne von Hessen geborene Prinzessin von Preußen. Eingetragen auf schriftliche Anzeige der Wehrmachtauskunftstelle für Kriegesverluste und Kriegsgefangene. Todesursache: gefallen Eheschließung des Verstorbenen am 30.1.1933 in Tabarz (Standesamt Tabarz Nr. 2 / 33)
REMARK TOP LEFT:
Herleshausen, den 22. August 1962 Auf Anordnung des Amtsgerichts in Kassel vom 7. Mai 1962 ( 1 III 52/61) wird berichtigend vermerkt, dass der Name des Verstorbenen Wilhelm Ernst Alexis Hermann Prinz und Landgraf von Hessen (nicht Prinz und Landgraf Wilhelm von Hessen) lautet.
TRANSLATION
No. 16 – Herleshausen, the 7. August 1942
The captain of the reserve Prince and Landgrave Wilhelm of Hesse (Figure 16), a believer in God, residing in Herleshausen Castle Augustenau is on 30. April 1942 at — clock — minutes (death hour unknown) at Wyschegory, eastern theater of war, died.
The deceased was born on the 1st. March 1905 in Rotenburg an der Fulda (Rotenburg Registry Office No. 21).
Father: Landgrave Chlodwig of Hesse
Mother: Landgrave Karoline of Hesse born Princess of Solms-Hohensolms-Lich
The deceased was married to Princess Marianne of Hesse, born Princess of Prussia.
Registered on written notification of the Wehrmacht information office for war losses and prisoners of war.
Cause of death: fallen
Marriage of the deceased on 30.1.1933 in Tabarz (Registry Office Tabarz No. 2 / 33)
TRANSLATION—REMARK UPPER LEFT
Herleshausen, the 22. August 1962
By order of the district court in Kassel of 7. May 1962 (III 52/61) is corrected that the name of the deceased
Wilhelm Ernst Alexis Hermann Prince and Landgrave of Hesse
One final observation. After the abdication of Kaiser Wilhelm II and the termination of Germany’s monarchy following their loss in WWI, the nobility was no longer legally recognized in Germany. While noble titles and designations are still commonly used as part of family names, the 1962 remark in the upper left of Wilhelm’s death certificate is an acknowledgment of this new reality where the title “Prince” is added after his name rather than before.
Note: In this post, I detail further discoveries about Heinz Löwenstein, my father’s first cousin, and his successful escape from Stalag VIIIB in Lamsdorf [today:Łambinowice, Poland] in around November 1943. Relying on an account of the escape of South African Lt. Colonel Charles Telfer Howie held in the same Stalag, I infer the means and route by which Heinz might have escaped.
With the help of Brian Cooper, an English friend who specializes in the study of English World War II prisoners of war, I’ve written multiple posts about the whereabouts and survival during the war of Heinz Löwenstein, my father’s first cousin. Because I met him as a child and heard confusing accounts that he was an “escape artist,” his story has always intrigued me. What could this possibly mean in the context of the mass arrests and deportation and internment of Jews in extermination camps? It seemed unlikely that Heinz could have escaped from one of these. Because no one bothered to explain this, my childhood imagination conjured up wild explanations, none of which in retrospect approach reality.
As readers know, I’ve written extensively about Heinz’s wartime experiences and escapades. I refer followers to these earlier stories of Heinz’s enlistment in the British Pioneer Corps in Palestine in around 1935, his capture during the Battle of Greece in April 1941, his subsequent incarceration in Stalag VIIIB in Lamsdorf [today: Łambinowice, Poland] in 1941 (Figure 1), his multiple escapes from there between 1941 and 1943, and more.
Relying on prisoner records, POW liberation questionnaires and exit interviews, and various books and accounts by former POWs, I thought I’d exhausted what more I would learn about the circumstances of Heinz’s internments and escapes. However, following the publication of my most recent post, Post 163, Brian brought to my attention two additional books he uncovered where he’s mentioned. The first is entitled “Agent by Accident” by Claerwen Howie, the second “Facing Fearful Odds” by John Jay. Because Heinz is featured prominently in Claerwen Howie’s book, I will focus on this one because it provides in-depth details on how her father-in-law, Lt. Col. Charles Telfer Howie, escaped from Stalag VIIIB in Lamsdorf, the same Stalag in which Heinz was incarcerated.
As a quick correction, I mistakenly noted in Post 163 that Lt. Col. Howie had escaped from Stalag VIIB in Memmingen, Bavaria, near Munich. At the time, I questioned the likelihood of this having happened since Howie and his fellow escapee, Tibor Weinstein, eventually wound up in Budapest, Hungary, a great distance from Munich across very hostile territory. While Howie and Weinstein traveled a large distance following their escape from Stalag VIIIB, it involved a more direct and less dangerous route.
Claerwen Howie’s book is based on in-depth interviews she conducted with her father-in-law and on question-and-answer sessions she had with some of his contemporaries, including people who helped him escape from Stalag VIIIB and Hungarians, Dutchmen, and Brits he met and who assisted him once he reached Hungary. Though Heinz Löwenstein made his getaway from Stalag VIIIB perhaps a month after Howie, he likely followed a similar trajectory to freedom. For this reason, I discuss in detail Howie’s escape as a way of describing the situation at Stalag VIIIB as well as talking about some of the issues and challenges both men likely faced.
Charles Telfer Howie was a Lt. Colonel in the South African army captured by German Generalfeldmarschall (field marshal) Erwin Rommel’s troops during the Siege of Tobruk, in Libya, as part of the Western Desert campaign of the Mediterranean and Middle East theater of WWII. To remind readers, following his flight from Stalag VIIIB Howie made his way to Budapest and coordinated with opposition leaders in Hungary on an ultimately unsuccessful effort to get Hungary to abandon the Axis alliance in favor of the Allies prior to the Nazi occupation of Hungary on the 19th of March 1944. Self-proclaimed “Captain” Roy Natusch, an escapee from Stalag XVIIIA in Wolfsburg, Austria who similarly made his way to Budapest and met Howie, also discussed in Post 163, was intimately involved in Howie’s clandestine efforts to “flip” Hungary.
In any case, in the wake of his capture in Tobruk, Howie arrived in Stalag VIIIB in Lamsdorf on Sunday, the 19th of September 1943, following a lengthy and interrupted journey that included stays in Benghazi, Libya; and Lecce, Bari, Aversa, Florence, and Modena, Italy. Knowing that as an officer he would within days be transferred to an Oflag (Offizierslager), an officers’ camp where security was tighter, Howie wasted no time establishing contact with the camp’s escape committee. He immediately looked for the first non-commissioned officer who could take him to the Vertrauensmann or SBO, Senior British Officer, in charge of the camp. This was Regimental Sergeant-Major Sherriff of the Welsh Guards, also captured in Tobruk. Coincidentally, Sherriff was a WWII prisoner who was returned to the same Stalag where he’d been held as a POW during WWI.
The escape committee included many Canadiens who’d been captured on the 19th of August 1942 during the disastrous raid on heavily fortified Dieppe; ergo, it was informally referred to as the “Dieppe escape committee.” Operation Jubilee or the Dieppe Raid was a catastrophic Allied amphibious attack on the German-occupied port of Dieppe in northern France, during WWII. Over 6,500 infantry, predominantly Canadian, supported by a regiment of tanks, were put ashore from a naval force operating under the protection of Royal Air Force (RAF) fighters. The port was to be captured and held for a short period, to test the feasibility of a landing and to gather intelligence. While the operation was a fiasco with mass casualties, particularly among the Canadians, the Allies learned lessons that influenced the success of the D-Day landings.
According to what Lt. Col. Howie reported to his daughter-in-law, conditions in Stalag VIIIB were predictably deplorable. There was chronic overcrowding which affected the men’s health. Dysentery, fleas, and lice were constant problems; food rations were poor, the water supply inadequate, and coal to heat the barracks meager. Each prisoner was given one thin blanket and a spoon. Red Cross parcels were relied on to supplement what prisoners were meted out.
The large camp was surrounded by two barbed-wire fences running parallel to one another. Adjacent to the outer fence was a path along which the guards patrolled. Approximately six feet from the inner perimeter fence was a low tripwire. Crossing this wire would result in being shot. The Stalag was divided into compounds, and while movement between them was not allowed, the prisoners found ways around this restriction. Each compound contained block-like barracks that included a central washroom, an office and work area, and three-tier bunks, reaching from concrete floor almost to the ceiling. The bunks formed three rows with spaces in between. Each block housed 324 men.
One of the key members of the escape committee was a Canadian sergeant named Laurens Pals. Originally from the Netherlands, he went to Canada in his mid-twenties. When the war broke out, he joined the Canadian Light Infantry and was initially dispatched to England. Because he was fluent in French, German, and Dutch, he was sent on intelligence courses including one studying German documents, information that was to become invaluable to the escape committee. Pals was captured during Operation Jubilee in Dieppe.
A POW could improve his situation by going to a work camp, several hundred of which surrounded Stalag VIIIB. Beyond the opportunity for a POW to improve his situation and living conditions, these outside assignments provided an opening to obtain tools, documents, local currency, civilian clothing, train schedules, and other information needed by the escape committee.
Readers will recall from earlier posts that most of Heinz Löwenstein’s escapes took place from work camps to which he’d been detailed. The fact that Heinz had been born in Danzig and was therefore fluent in German meant the escape committee would have looked more favorably upon his escape attempts because of a greater chance of success.
Let me say a little about such attempts. It was a prisoner’s duty to try to escape. SBO Sherriff had reached agreement with the Canadians to back their attempts. They agreed that escape plans would be common property. Information and equipment that had been obtained by prisoners out on working parties would be shared. Forgers and tailors from other sections would give their services. While only a few men would ultimately escape, the combined skills of a great number was needed.
Planning and preparation for any escape typically required weeks, if not months. The Dieppe escape committee had selected Hut 19 in their compound as the barrack from which an escape tunnel would be sunk because it was closest to the perimeter fence. (Figure 2) It was dug immediately below the pair of three-tiered bunks pushed up against the wall facing the fence. Twenty men were involved in the work. The large amount of excavated soil had to be disposed of to avoid raising German suspicions. As tunneling progressed, tools and lights had to be improvised, and a system constructed for pushing clean air down a ventilation pipe. Also, because the soil was sandy, the tunnel was shored up using bed boards from the POWs’ bunks. By April 1943, a tunnel roughly 135 feet long which had its exit roughly 20 feet outside the perimeter fence had been completed.
Simultaneously, other POWs worked on obtaining civilian clothes or tailoring POWs uniforms into them. Alterations were made and uniforms dyed. Guards’ movements were studied. Outside the Stalag, potential escape routes were assessed with an eye towards escapees avoiding drawing unwelcome attention and blowing their cover. Work parties obtained other useful information including train schedules; details on the level of security at nearby railway stations; and examples of documents travelers in Germany required.
Obviously, the German documents had to be forged. As I learned and discussed in earlier posts, Heinz Löwenstein was a first-rate forger. Given that Heinz’s brother Fedor Löwenstein was a well-known abstract artist and that his sister Jeanne Loewenstein reputedly also a skilled painter, I’ve periodically wondered whether their ability to expertly illustrate ran in the family?
Regardless, the German documents which had to be forged included an identity card, an Arbeitskarte or work permit, a document from the police indicating the bearer was allowed to travel and, most importantly, an Ausweis or civilian identity card which had to be always carried; to advance the deception a letter or two from an escaper’s fictitious wife, girlfriend, or employer, was also forged. It goes without saying that well-forged documents could make the difference between a successful or failed escape.
Claerwen Howie recounts an amusing anecdote about Sergeant Laurens Pals. Upon reaching Stalag VIIIB, because of his intelligence training he felt he could successfully escape and return to England. The escape organization handed him a small hand drawn map of Germany to plan his escape with the approximate position of Berlin and Stalag VIIIB, as well as a forged Ausweis; he dismissed both as useless, claiming the eagle on the Ausweis “looked like a chicken.” The escape committee was insulted, and a court of inquiry was convened to investigate the incident. Pals convinced everyone his observations were accurate, and he was rewarded by being asked to head up the escape organization for the entire camp.
Pals was extremely resourceful, and within weeks obtained examples of French, Belgian, and Dutch identity papers. He found men in camp who ingeniously could carve the various stamps found on official documents from rubber soles. Incredibly he even managed to smuggle in a typewriter. Dyes, inks, and suitable paper for creating authentic-looking documents were exchanged for cigarettes which came in the Red Cross parcels or were stolen by POWs out on work parties. Because of frequent unannounced searches by the Germans, these materials had to be carefully hidden, although the remote possibility of betrayal by spies still loomed.
The fact that Howie wanted to escape within days of his arrival at Stalag VIIIB presented obvious challenges. Yet, by the time Howie asked to be put in touch with the escape committee, several things that needed to happen had already been completed. The tunnel had been dug, documents forged, civilian clothes prepared, and careful studies undertaken of the various routes prisoners could follow.
The escape committee preferred POWs who were fluent in a foreign language, preferably German, which Howie was not. Pals suggested he recruit a POW to accompany him, but he was unable to find someone. Still, the escape committee was impressed with Howie’s escape plan, so agreed to help him. Howie proposed heading east towards Hungary following his escape to minimize the distance he would have to travel. His plan initially had been to reach Hungary, then dogleg south towards Yugoslavia to connect with Tito’s partisans before eventually rejoining the Allies.
Pals came to be the primary person on whom Howie relied for his escape. He recruited a Hungarian-born Jew who was fluent in German and had a good knowledge of the local countryside and the countries through which they would pass to accompany him; his name was Tibor Weinstein, though he went by the alias “Tom Sanders.” Like Heinz, Tibor was captured during the Battle of Greece though only in the final throes of the battle when Crete was seized.
Pals and his committee had already learned from previous attempts that the best identity they could give an escaper would be that of a foreign worker because thousands were constantly moving about German-occupied territory. In Howie’s case, the false identity they created was that of a Dutch engineer on his way east to a sugar beet factory near the Austro-Hungarian. The committee theorized that if Howie was stopped the Afrikaans he spoke might fool the average German soldier into thinking it was Dutch.
Given that Howie’s escape window was narrow, he opted to flee via the tunnel rather than await assignment to an outside work party. The fact that he’d arrived only days earlier also meant that he would not instantly be recognizable by the guards and that his disappearance might be less noticeable. Howie and Weinstein’s initial nighttime escape was planned for the 25th of September 1943, a mere six days after Howie’s arrival.
The night of Howie’s and Weinstein’s planned escape it rained so their departure was postponed. When they awoke the next morning, the rain had cleared, so a risky daylight escape was decided. Howie only received his forged documents including a testimonial declaring his value to the sugar beet industry at the last minute; the money to buy train tickets was given to Weinstein. He was only introduced to Heinz Loewenstein, who had forged his documents, and to his traveling companion Tibor Weinstein on the morning of his departure. Admittedly, Howie’s stay at Stalag VIIIB was brief, but this appears to have been the only time Howie and Loewenstein met in Lamsdorf.
After saying their quick goodbyes, Howie suffered a brief moment of doubt realizing he had to crawl through the claustrophobic tunnel, an experience that seemingly caused him a lifetime of nightmares imagining being trapped in a tiny, dark passage.
A brief observation. Given that Claerwen Howie’s account is a retelling of her father-in-law’s wartime experience, I’m enormously impressed with the authenticity and detail with which she recounts the story. Unfeasible events which typically litter Hollywood movies are rare. One example of an accurate portrayal is the greatcoats the escapees wore as they crawled through the tunnel to protect their civilian clothes. Another trivial example is the civilian shoes Howie was given, which were several sizes too large and ultimately caused Howie’s feet to blister; Hollywood would have you believe that everything fit perfectly. Suffice it to say, the escape committee tried to leave as few things to chance as possible.
The escape route had been finalized by Sergeant Pals. (Figure 3) Howie and Weinstein would travel through eastern Silesia, then head south towards Vienna, and from there cross into Hungary. Their first destination would be Budapest where Tibor had family and where it was felt that Howie would be able to obtain accurate information on how to proceed to Yugoslavia. The escape committee only gave the escapees enough money to reach the Austrian border, after which they would have to manage on their own.
Since Howie and Weinstein’s escape took place during the day, the prisoners staged a wrestling match to distract the guards manning the watch tower closest to the trapdoor. Following their flight, they walked not to the nearest train station but the second nearest one in Falkenberg; the escape committee felt that if the authorities had been alerted to their escape, they would first check the nearest train depot.
Howie and Weinstein successfully arrived by train in Vienna. While awaiting the connecting train to a town near the Austro-Hungarian border called Bruck-an-der-Leitha (Figure 4), Gestapo agents checked their papers and seemed to accept their authenticity. Concerned this was a ruse and that the Gestapo agents had alerted the conductor, they jumped from the train. With no money to buy replacement tickets, they were forced to walk to Bruck-an-der-Leitha, a center for sugar beet processing. This destination fit neatly with Howie’s cover story.
Let me briefly digress on a personal note. Many years ago when I first started my genealogical research I came upon a pretentiously titled book at the Mormon Library about my family, “A Thousand Year History of the Bruck Family.” The author claims my family, then known as “Perlhefter,” originally came from Hungary, and purchased the right to be toll keepers on the bridge in Bruck-an-der-Leitha. The family eventually sold the concession and moved to Vienna and changed their name to “Bruck” because of this connection. In 2014, during a 13-week trip visiting places connected to my Jewish family’s diaspora, my wife and I stopped there. (Figure 5)
Another thing that speaks to the authenticity of Claerwen Howie’s account of her father-in-law and Weinstein’s escape are the protocols the former POWs established to avoid being caught. Aware there were likely many German informers in the area through which they were traveling, they called one another by their forenames, did not stay in one place too long, and did not approach locals, even though they were desperate for food and water.
Howie and Weinstein crossed into Hungary near Nickelsdorf, virtually atop the Hungarian border. Near the largish town of Csorna, they came upon some Polish workers who gave them shelter, food, water, and what money they could spare. Along with money Weinstein got from selling his woolen Red Cross vest, they had enough to buy train tickets to Budapest.
So much for Howie and Weinstein’s story though there is much more to it. I’ve related their tale as a way of inferring how Heinz Löwenstein’s escape might have unfolded, and the route he might have taken to get to Hungary.
I surmise Heinz successfully escaped directly from Stalag VIIIB through the tunnel in Hut 19. It’s likely Heinz’s three previous unsuccessful escapes from work camps taught him lessons he applied to finally escape triumphantly. Heinz no doubt forged his own documents.
I suspect Heinz reached Hungary via the same route as Howie and Weinstein had taken. Claerwen Howie writes that the Dieppe escape committee knew enough about railway timetables and local costs to get escapees to Bruck-an-der-Leitha. Taking a different route might have created challenges for which Heinz was unprepared.
Howie and Weinstein we know reached Budapest. Like “Captain” Ray Natusch (see Post 163), Heinz however was probably arrested by Hungarian soldiers in the countryside and briefly incarcerated in Komárom, Hungary. This is supported by a footnote in Claerwen Howie’s book stating that Heinz Löwenstein arrived there on the 1st of December 1943, and was transferred to Szigetvár, Hungary on the 19th of December 1943. This means Heinz likely escaped from Stalag VIIIB during the last week of November, so roughly a month after Howie and Weinstein crawled their way out.
In the book by Francis Jones entitled “The Double Dutchman,” we learn that on account of his language skills Heinz Löwenstein was tasked with establishing contact with the Hungarian resistance while he was being detained in Szigetvár, Hungary; the aim was to have the Hungarian resistance connect the former POWs to Tito’s partisan forces in Yugoslavia so they could rejoin the Allied forces. Had it not been for Lt. Col. Howie’s clandestine efforts in Budapest to flip Hungary and his personal visit to Szigetvár to reinforce his order that the POWs not try to escape upon the threat of a post-WWII court martial, no doubt Heinz would have done another disappearing act. Incidentally, Heinz and Howie met for the second and last time in Szigetvár before all the POWs were recaptured following Germany’s invasion of Hungary on the 19th of March 1944.
In closing, I would say given Heinz’s numerous escapes from German stalags and his skills as a forger that finding additional accounts of his exploits is still possible, perhaps even probable. That said, the general outline of the places where Heinz was imprisoned and his contribution to the war effort even as a POW are now well-documented. So I again thank my English friend Brian Cooper for helping me work this out and solve the mystery of Heinz’s Houdini acts!
REFERENCES
Howie, Claerwen. Agent by Accident. Lindlife Publishers CC, 1997.
Jay, John. Facing Fearful Odds: My Father’s Story of Captivity, Escape & Resistance 1940–1945. Pen & Sword Military, 2018.
Jones, Francis S. The Double Dutchman: A story of wartime escape and intrigue. The Dunmore Press Limited, Palmerston North, New Zealand, 1977.
Note: In this lengthy post, I compile the substantial amount of evidence I’ve collected related to my father’s first cousinHeinz Löwenstein’s exploits during WWII. This post would not have been possible without the substantial contributions of Mr. Brian Cooper from England who ferreted out most of the primary source documents and books citing Heinz. I’m eternally grateful.
My last three posts (Post 160,Post 161, & Post 162) have largely dealt with Fedor Löwenstein (1901-1946), one of my father’s first cousins, a renowned painter. He moved to Paris in 1923, attracted by the artistic influence of the capital. He was part of an artistic movement that dominated there, designated as the École de Paris, the School of Paris. This does not refer to any school that really existed, but rather to a movement which brought together artists who contributed to making Paris the focus of artistic creation between the two world wars. It was in this rich artistic context that Löwenstein painted and drew. His early works were marked by the influence of cubism, whose main representatives worked in Paris, although his subsequent productions evolved towards abstraction.
In Post 160, I provided an update on my now ten-year old claim against the French Ministry of Culture’s (Premier Ministre) Commission pour la restitution des biens et l’indemnisation des victims de spoliations antisemites (CIVS), Commission for the restitution of property and compensation for victims of anti-Semitic spoliation. In brief, my claim involves a request for compensation and repatriation of 25 works of art produced by Fedor Löwenstein confiscated by the Nazis in December 1940 at the Port of Bordeaux. The works were destined for New York for an exhibition at the Nierendorf Gallery but only three paintings are believed to have survived the Nazis’ destruction of his so-called “decadent art.”
In Posts 161 and 162, respectively, I discussed photos and letters that have been discovered and/or have survived among the personal effects of two of Fedor’s girlfriends, the Corposano Studio dancer Doris Halphen and the renowned artist Marcelle Rivier (1906-1986).
In this post, I shift my attention to Fedor Löwenstein’s younger brother Heinz Löwenstein (1905-1979) (Figure 1), specifically his whereabouts during WWII. His capers and adventures during the war are bookworthy. I’ve previously explored this topic relying on detailed information unearthed by an English gentleman named Brian Cooper from Maidstone, Kent, England. (Figure 2) Brian specializes in studying and researching British WWII prisoners of war and coincidentally stumbled upon a mention of Heinz Löwenstein and an alias he used, “Henry Goff,” while investigating his uncle incarcerated in a German stalag during the war. Since writing Post 137 and Post 137, Postscript, with Brian’s help and guidance, I’ve discovered an astonishing amount of new information which I discuss below.
Unlike Fedor Löwenstein, who died prematurely of Hodgkin lymphoma in 1946 in Nice, France before I was born, as a child I met both of Fedor’s younger siblings, Jeanne “Hansi” Goff, née Löwenstein (1902-1986) and Heinz Löwenstein. Both Hansi and Heinz were my father’s closest cousins. Hansi was an austere person who seemingly disliked children; by contrast, her brother Heinz was exceedingly affable and charismatic. Throughout her life, Hansi retained her married name “Goff,” a name I will return to below as I relate the story of her brother’s wartime escapades.
As a brief aside, from the report that the CIVS’ forensic genealogist prepared in connection with my claim against the French Ministry of Culture, I learned that Hansi’s husband’s name was “Georges Goff.” To the best of my knowledge, Georges and Hansi never had any children, or at least none that survived to adulthood. To date, I have been unable to learn whether they divorced or whether Georges died prematurely; regardless, Hansi never remarried.
As many readers whose relatives survived WWII can probably attest to, my own relatives were rather reticent to talk about their experiences during the war. My father occasionally alluded to Heinz Löwenstein’s wartime exploits but in such vague terms that as a child I never understood what those escapades entailed. My childhood fantasies filled in the blanks in ways that now seem phantasmagoric. I never anticipated I would learn the truth but thanks to Brian, I’m now able to fill in more of Heinz’s story.
Let me start by reviewing what I presented earlier, then move to the more recent discoveries so the entire story is told somewhat linearly.
Brian Cooper first contacted me in February 2023 after coming across my Post 16 where I discussed my great aunt, Hedwig Löwenstein, née Bruck (1870-1949), and her three children, including Heinz. (Figure 3) In his own research on British prisoners of war, he’d come across the name Heinz Lowenstein (without an umlaugh over the “o”). Initially uncertain whether the Heinz he’d come across and my ancestor were the same person, two threads in my post convinced him they were one and the same. First, as mentioned, Heinz Lowenstein used the alias “Henry Goff,” Goff being his married sister’s surname. Second, he learned that my father’s cousin Heinz Löwenstein had the same date of birth, the 8th of March 1905, as the prisoner of war records indicate for the Heinz Lowenstein he’s been researching.
I immediately asked Brian why he was interested in Heinz Löwenstein. Though very familiar with this branch of my extended family, I assumed there was an ancestral connection of which I was unaware. Amazingly, it turns out Brian’s uncle, Harold William Jackson from the 2nd Battalion Northamptonshire Regiment, captured in 1940 in France, was interned in one of the same Stalags as Heinz had been held, namely, Stalag VIIIB/Stalag 344 in Lamsdorf, Silesia [today: Łambinowice, Poland]. More on this below but suffice it to say that unlike Heinz who was at multiple Stalags and work labor camps throughout his captivity, Brian’s uncle was apparently only imprisoned in Stalag VIIIB until January 1945 when the Nazis began marching the still able-bodied prisoners-of-war west as the Red Army was approaching. By contrast with my father’s cousin Heinz Löwenstein, Brian’s uncle’s fate is unknown. Whether Heinz and Brian’s uncle knew or ever ran into one another is similarly unknown.
Until Brian Cooper provided documentary evidence, I had no idea where Heinz spent the war nor how he survived. The primary source of information on Heinz Löwenstein’s whereabouts and movements during the war can be found in the UK National Archives. Specifically, records created or inherited by the War Office’s Armed Forces Services containing “German Record cards of British and Commonwealth Prisoners of War and some Civilian Internees, Second World War,” found in Catalogue WO (for War Office) 416 are pertinent. Three entries related to Heinz Löwenstein, or his alias “Henry Goff,” can be found in this dossier. The National Archive website provides a summary of these German Record cards, but Brian obtained complete copies of the originals, which form the basis for the detailed synopsis he compiled of Heinz’s wartime activities.
The most informative German Record card in terms of tracking Heinz Löwenstein’s movements during the war is record number WO 416/412/223 (Figure 4a-d), alternately referred to as his Personalkarte, his personnel card. This card includes his picture, his father’s first name, his mother’s maiden name, his religion, and his date and place of birth, all previously known to me, confirming this was my father’s first cousin. Unknown to me was his service number (i.e., 8576), his service (i.e., Palestinian Army), the regiment or squadron he was a member of (i.e., Corps of Signals), his profession (i.e., electrician), the place he was captured (i.e., Greece), the date of his capture (29th April 1941), his POW number (i.e., 8576), and the camp name and number where he was initially interned (i.e., Stalag XVIIIA which was located in Wolfsberg, Austria).
Prior to being contacted by Brian, I’d already learned that Heinz married a divorcee named Rose Nothmann, née Bloch in Danzig, Germany [today: Gdańsk, Poland] on the 22nd of October 1931; interestingly, she was eleven years his senior. An illegible notation in the upper righthand corner of the marriage certificate indicates they got divorced, an event I assumed had taken place in Danzig. However, from Heinz’s Personalkarte where he named his wife Rose Löwenstein living in Palestine as his next of kin, I now realize the divorce likely took place after Heinz returned from the war.
Another thing I concluded from Heinz’s Personalkarte is that he and his wife moved to Palestine from Danzig where he enlisted in the English Army, probably in around 1935. Two POW lists published, respectively, in September 1944 (Figure 5) and April 1945 (Figure 6) indicate the regiment/unit/squadron Heinz was a member of, “3 L. of C. Sigs.” This refers to the “3 Line of Communication Signals [Royal Corps of Signals, often simply known as Royal Signals].” For readers, like me, unfamiliar with the work of this squadron, this unit is responsible for providing full telecommunications infrastructure for the Army wherever they operate. Signal units are among the first deployed, providing battlefield communications and information systems essential to all operations.
As mentioned above, Heinz’s Personalkarte shows he was captured on the 29th of April 1941 in Greece. Before discussing where he is likely to have been captured, let me provide readers with a general overview of the Battle of Greece. This battle, also known as the “German invasion of Greece” or “Operation Marita,” was the attack of Greece by Italy and Germany during World War II. It began on the 28th of October 1940 with the Italian invasion of Greece from the west via Albania, then a vassal state of Italy. Greece, with the help of British air and material support, repelled the initial Italian attack and counterattack in March 1941.
Realizing that the bulk of Greek troops were massed along the Greek border with Albania and that Italy was in trouble, German troops invaded from Bulgaria to Greece’s north on the 6th of April 1941, opening a second front. The Greek Army was quickly outnumbered even with the reinforcement of small numbers of British, Australian, and New Zealand forces. The Greek forces were outflanked by the Germans at the Albanian border, forcing their surrender. British, Australian, and New Zealand forces were overwhelmed and forced to retreat southwards down the Greek peninsula, with the goal of evacuation. For several days, Allied troops were able to delay the German advance, allowing ships to be positioned to evacuate the units defending Greece. Still, by the 27th of April the German Army captured Athens, and reached Greece’s southern shores by the 30th of April. The conquest of Greece was completed a month later with the capture of the island of Crete. An intriguing footnote is that Hitler later blamed the unsuccessful German invasion of the Soviet Union on Mussolini’s failed conquest of Greece.
Knowing that Heinz was taken prisoner on the 29th of April, Brian reasons that he was seized in or near Kalamata on the Peloponnesian peninsula. Based on testimony from others, we know that POWs were quickly moved to a prison compound at Corinth, then shortly thereafter to Salonika. On their way to Salonika, the prisoners stopped briefly in Athens before continuing northwards. However, when they reached the tunnel below the Brallos Pass, north of the town of Gravia, the prisoners had to dismount because the tunnel had been rendered unusable by explosives during the recent retreat by Allied soldiers. Thus began what is referred to as “The March,” the destination of which was the town of Lamia 40 miles north. This involved a long slog uphill, followed by a precipitous downhill walk in unpleasantly hot weather.
A Facebook account about the “Battle of Kalamata 1941” estimates that by September 1941, 12,000 POWs had passed through the “Salonika Transit Camp Frontstalag 183,” on their way to the central Europe Stalags They included many nationalities—Scots, English, Australians, New Zealanders, Serbs, Indians, Palestinian Jews, Cypriots, Arabs, and Greeks. Many of the POWs died, and a few daring ones escaped.
From Heinz’s Personalkarte we know he was initially imprisoned in Stalag XVIIIA in Wolfsberg, Austria after being transported by cattle truck from the Salonika Transit Camp. A different German Record card for Heinz Lowenstein, WO 416/228/460, records his transfer from Stalag XVIIIA in Wolfsberg, Austria to Stalag VIIIB in Lamsdorf on the 28th of July 1941. (Figures 7-8) The earliest date on Heinz’s Personalkarte, German Record card WO 416/412/223, is the 8th of July 1941, which corresponds to the date he was inoculated against typhoid, perhaps upon his arrival at Stalag XVIIIA in Wolfsberg. (see Figure 4b)
Another interesting detail recorded on Heinz’s Personalkarte are the solitary confinements he was made to endure for neglecting or disturbing work operations and for two escapes. Remarkably, Heinz’s escape from work labor camp designated as “E479” in Tarnowitz is recorded in a book by Cyril Rofe entitled “Against the Wind.” Cyril himself escaped from a work camp that was subordinate to Stalag VIIIB on his third attempt, eventually making his way to Moscow before being repatriated via Murmansk. I refer readers to Post 137 for the verbatim description from Cyril Rofe’s book of Heinz’s escape, a compelling read.
Following Heinz’s release from the brig in August 1943 after his third escape, possibly in September 1943 or slightly later, Heinz made a successful fourth escape from Stalag VIIIB/Stalag 344 or one of its subordinate work labor camps. The evidence for this comes from War Office record WO 224/95 (see Post 137, Figures 21a-d) which places him at Camp Siklós in Hungary in November 1943.
Record WO 224/95 is a Visit Report by the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) written on the 16th of November detailing prison conditions at the Camp Siklós Hungarian detention center inspected on the 8th of November 1943. While referred to as Camp Siklós the holding facility had in fact been moved from Siklós to Szigetvár on the 12th of August 1943 due to the poor conditions prevailing at Siklós; Siklós is approximately 39 miles southeast of Szigetvár. Attached to this report is a list of 20 army personnel, presumably all POW escapees, including “Henry Lowenstein.” Based on the Visit Report from the ICRC it is unclear when and where Heinz was arrested in Hungary following his escape from Stalag VIIIB/Stalag 344 (Lamsdorf) but no later than the 8th of November, probably earlier, he was in Hungarian custody. Szigetvár, incidentally, was the castle estate of Count Mihaly Andrassy, and incarceration conditions there were excellent.
The ICRC visit to Camp Siklós (Szigetvár) was conducted in its capacity as a Protecting Power which was formalized in the Geneva Convention of 1929. Protecting powers were allowed to inspect prisoners of war camps, interview prisoners in private, communicate freely with prisoners, and supply books for the prison library.
Let me provide some historical context regarding Hungary’s situation vis a vis Nazi occupation at the time that Heinz was detained there.
In March 1944, Hungary was invaded and occupied by Nazi Germany. Before the Nazi invasion, Hungary had not formally declared war against the United Kingdom, so any British POW escapees, if caught by the Hungarian authorities, would expect no more than internment by Hungary as a neutral power. There was no concern that British POWs would be returned to German control. Based on the existing War Office records, as mentioned, Heinz escaped from Stalag VIIIB in Lamsdorf and somehow made his way to Hungary before the Nazi occupation.
Now we get to the murkiest part of Heinz’s story. From one moment to the next, he went from being known as “Henry Lowenstein” to being “Henry Goff.” (To remind readers, the surname “Goff” was Heinz’s sister’s married name.) As a Hungarian internee, Heinz was known as “Henry Lowenstein,” but at some point, after he was recaptured by the Germans following their invasion of Hungary on the 19th of March 1944, he became known as “Henry Goff.” Exactly when this happened is unclear. The Hungarians knew Henry’s real identity and presumably would have shared this information with the Germans following their takeover of the internment camp at Szigetvár. We know from War Office record WO 416/141/191 (see Post 137, Figure 22) that “Henry Lowenstein” becomes “Henry Goff,” born on the 8th of March 1905 in Manchester, England. Presumably after he becomes Henry Goff, he is also assigned a new POW number, No. 156116. From Heinz’s point of view, the change of surname and birth place was presumably an insurance policy because of his Jewish faith. Together with his new POW number, he presumably thought that his chances of survival improved, although how much danger he was in is uncertain.
WO 416/141/191 record tells us Heinz was returned to the Stalags in Austria after he was recaptured in Hungary. All I knew for certain is that by the 28th of July 1944, Henry Goff was transferred from Stalag XVIIA in Kaisersteinbruch, Austria to Stalag XVIIB in Gneixendorf, Austria. (Figure 9).
Prior to obtaining the recently acquired information, the above formed the basis for what I discussed in Post 137 and Post 137, Postscript. Since these earlier posts, I’ve obtained: excerpts from two books Brian found discussing Heinz; two “Liberation Questionnaires” alluding to Henry Lowenstein and Henry Goff; dossiers from the ICRC related to both Lowenstein and Goff; reference to Henry Lowenstein in a so-called “Mentioned in Despatches,” which would have been a condition of obtaining certain war decorations; a group photo taken in a German Stalag showing Heinz; and more. These documents provide a better picture of Heinz’s movements during the war and a more nuanced understanding of how his actions fit into broader events going on at the time. Let me systematically review these new findings.
Brian Cooper brought to my attention a book entitled “The Double Dutchman: A story of wartime escape and intrigue” by Francis S. Jones. Heinz is prominently featured in this book. Let me review some of the details.
The story is primarily about a New Zealand soldier, captured like Heinz Löwenstein during the Battle of Greece in April 1941, by the name of Roy Natusch. He was interned in Stalag XVIIIA in Wolfsberg, and like Heinz escaped from a work camp with two other internees, Lance-Bombardier David “Dai” Tom Davies and Joe Walker. The work camp from which they fled was located not far from the Hungarian border in a place called Gaas, Austria. (Figure 10) The author does not specify the exact date of their get away, but I place it in the Fall or Winter of 1943. Following their nighttime escape, the three internees tried to get as far into Hungary as possible; they were trying to avoid being recaptured by the German-influenced Hungarian border squads who would have handed them back to the Germans.
Let me reiterate what I previously mentioned. Following the beginning of WWII, the British and Americans declared war on Hungary, an ostensible ally of Germany and Hitler. However, the declaration of war was not reciprocated by the Hungarian government, and as mentioned above, any escaped Allied prisoners who made their way to Hungary were merely incarcerated but not sent back to the Germans. Clearly, this is what happened to Heinz Löwenstein.
While Roy Natusch was only a Corporal, with the agreement of his two companions, he passed himself off as a Captain knowing that if the three were captured by the Hungarians an officer would be better treated. Eventually, the three escapees were in fact arrested by Hungarian police or military, and temporarily interned in Komárom, Hungary, near the then-Czechoslovakian border. Had they avoided capture and internment by the Hungarians, Roy and his traveling companions had always intended to do a dog-leg through Hungary into then-Yugoslavia (i.e., head east into Hungary, then turn southwards towards Yugoslavia), linking up with Tito’s Partisans and being repatriated with the Allies in Italy. This was not to be their fate, at least not immediately.
As an officer, or at least claiming to be one, Roy quickly came to the attention of the only other escaped Allied officer in Hungary, a real officer, the South African Lieutenant Colonel Charles Telfer Howie hiding in Budapest (i.e., Komárom and Budapest are only about 60 miles apart). Along with a Private by the name of Tom Sanders, Howie had escaped from Stalag VIIIA in Lamsdorf [today: Łambinowice, Poland].
While at Komárom, Roy Natusch was visited by a Colonel Utassy from the Hungarian War Office along with a Foreign Service Officer, presumably to be vetted for possible involvement in a plot to change the course of the war. He eventually made his way to Budapest where he met other members of the Hungarian resistance and was introduced to Lt. Colonel Howie. While Howie could have left Hungary and rejoined the Allies, he consciously decided to remain there. Clandestinely, he was working with the various opposition factions in Hungary to switch them from the Axis to the Allied side. This was a particularly precarious undertaking since Budapest and more generally Hungary had Nazi spies everywhere. Moreover, it was an open secret that as soon as the Soviets got anywhere near Hungary, a day which was quickly approaching, the German troops would invade the country and quickly seize Budapest.
At the time Natusch met with Lt. Colonel Howie, Germany had not yet invaded Hungary, however. Howie dispatched Natusch to the detention camp in Szigetvár at Count Andrassy’s castle estate with specific orders that the detained British POWs there not attempt to escape to Yugoslavia, or they would be court-marshalled after the war. Sargeant Major Norman McLean was ostensibly in charge of the soldiers. As noted above, Heinz Löwenstein was among the twenty or so British soldiers confined there and was considered the “intellectual of the camp”; here is where Roy Natusch first encountered Heinz. With Heinz’s nod of approval, the British soldiers put off their escape attempt, a fateful decision, as it turned out. By the time Natusch and Howie made their request, Heinz, the point of contact because of his fluency in multiple languages, had already contacted a local Hungarian who would have facilitated their escape by accompanying them to the Partisans in Yugoslavia. The distance from Szigetvár to the Yugoslav border was less than 15 miles, although the march to reach Partisan lines once inside Yugoslavia was long and dangerous because the Wehrmacht troops were active in the northern part of the country.
The British representatives who were supposed to negotiate with the Hungarian opposition were to be dropped by parachute on the plains near Szigetvár, and the British soldiers were expected to gather the inexperienced parachutists and bring them to Budapest. Howie had assured the British soldiers that in the event of a sudden German invasion, he would notify them by phone and/or send one of his men to warn them so they could quickly flee to Yugoslavia to join the Partisans.
As it turned out, Germany’s sudden invasion of Hungary took place on the 19th of March 1944, and came from three directions, Yugoslavia, Romania, and Germany. As expected, the Wehrmacht immediately headed for Budapest and the internment camp at Szigetvár where they recaptured all the British soldiers, including Natusch and Löwenstein. The warning the soldiers had been awaiting from Lt. Colonel Howie never arrived because the phone lines were immediately cut throughout the country upon Germany’s invasion, and the man Howie sent to warn the soldiers instead decamped for Romania.
Because of Natusch’s knowledge of “The Mission” (i.e., the Allies plan to try and peel off Hungary from the Axis alliance) and the players involved, he was a wanted man. Under torture, Natusch could have divulged the names of no fewer than eleven co-conspirators. For this reason it was imperative he escape the clutches of the Gestapo. Fortunately, he managed to escape at Szigetvár despite being guarded by seven Wehrmacht soldiers. Following his getaway and subsequent travails, he eventually made his way back to Budapest in the company of another British escapee, and reestablished contact with Lt. Colonel Howie who was in hiding. In Budapest, through contacts he had there, he connected with some Dutch soldiers, including a Lieutenant Eddie van Hootegem. The latter would wind up giving him his identity card, so for a period this was his alias. However, when he and two other Dutch officers (Lieutenant Frank Brackel & Lieutenant Joob Sengor) were arrested in Budapest and taken to Buda prison, together they crafted an elaborate explanation for why the purported Dutch soldier “Eddie” was unable to speak Dutch.
Suspicious of his explanation, the Germans transferred Roy Natusch, now Eddie van Hootegem, along with a contingent of almost a hundred Hungarians, Poles, French, and Jews, and non-descripts, by train from Buda prison. The Wehrmacht intended to take Roy/Eddie to an Oflag, a prisoner of war camp for officers established by the Germans during WWII, in Neubrandenburg, about 120 miles north of Berlin. This presented a major problem for Roy since they would ultimately have discovered he was Natusch, not van Hootegem.
On their way to Neubrandenburg (Figure 11), however, the prisoners were unloaded in Stalag XVIIA [Kaisersteinbruch, Austria]. Roy once again had the good fortune to run into Heinz Löwenstein there, who had by now assumed his own alias, the previously mentioned “Henry Goff.” As a side note, Francis Jones, author of “The Double Dutchman,” incorrectly claims Heinz’s alias was “Henry Lewis.” Regardless, Roy had learned from his time in Szigetvár that Heinz was a master forger, so he asked him to prepare a set of papers so that he could pass as an Italian.
Below is how Francis Jones describes the episode and the results:
“Henry Lowenstein appeared a few hours later and got past the guards without difficulty. ‘Here you are, sir,’ he said. ‘It’s finished. He glanced around nervously. ‘Best hide it. I’m not sure about these guards.’ Natusch put the slim package he’d been given into his breast pocket. The Palestinian was as jumpy as a cat. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything for your friends [EDITOR’S NOTE: THE AFOREMENTIONED BRACKEL & SENGOR]’ he went on, ‘but there was only enough material for you.’ Pride of craftsmanship calmed some of Henry’s agitation. ‘You’ll find a passport there, properly stamped,’ he announced, ‘a travel warrant, also stamped, and a couple of letters. You’re Mario Brioni, sir. That’s if you want to be Italian. I’d better go now, sir. Good luck.’ He shook hands with Natusch, gave Frank and Joob a half-bow, and left.
The New Zealander passed the little folder to his two friends without a word and stayed on the alert whilst they examined him it. The verdict came quickly. ‘It’s perfect,’ Frank said slowly. His eyes were wide with admiration. ‘This is first-class work.’ Joob Sengor, taking longer over his examination, agreed, and with that, Natusch was really satisfied. Joob was a protégé of the great Bentinck [EDITOR’S NOTE: A DUTCH FORGER], and a connoisseur of forgery. He put the documents back into his pocket and breathed thanks once again to the ever-helpful Henry Lowenstein.”
What the Germans had failed to do in Budapest, namely check his photo and fingerprint files in Berlin, they would certainly have done in the Oflag in Neubrandenburg; obviously, they would quickly have learned his real identity and turned him over to the Gestapo for interrogation. This meant that Natusch couldn’t risk facing new interrogators and had planned to jump off the train en route to the Oflag and change his identity from Eddie van Hootegem to Mario Brioni, who happened to be a fictitious Italian traveling legitimately. Incidentally, Roy had opted for an Italian surname because he spoke passable Italian and thought he could fool most Germans.
Roy’s intention after he jumped from the train was to travel in the opposite direction along the same line from Stettin [today: Szczecin, Poland] towards Hegyeshalom, near the Austrian-Hungarian border. Stettin lay 30 miles east of Neubrandenburg, which made the revised journey feasible. Roy was concerned that if his luck failed some attentive German might check and discover there was no such person as Mario Brioni. If this happened, he knew that he could no longer be Eddie van Hootegem, a Dutchman who didn’t speak Dutch, and certainly not be himself. Henry Lowenstein again came to his rescue and offered him his own identity since he now went by Henry Goff. Roy jumped at the offer, so Lowenstein gave him his identity tag. This was the last interaction between Heinz and Roy documented by Francis Jones.
As fate would have it, when Roy jumped off the train at the stop before Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland], he was seriously hurt. Knowing he would be recaptured because of his injuries he ditched the identifications for both Mario Brioni and Henry Lowenstein. He was arrested at the train station near Breslau by one of the three guards escorting him to the Dutch Oflag in Neubrandenburg. On the 2nd of August 1944 two guards from there came to collect Roy. Because his Hungarian civil papers were in order, upon his arrival in the Oflag he continued to pass himself off as Eddie van Hootegem. However, eventually he gave up the ghost and admitted to his interrogators that he was Roy Natusch, an escapee from Stalag XVIIIA in Wolfsberg. Fortunately, the Germans didn’t immediately make the connection that he was wanted by the Gestapo; consequently, they sent him back to Stalag XVIIIA where he’d originally escaped from years before. Knowing he was still in danger, he quickly had himself assigned to a work party in a place called Radkersburg near the Yugoslavian border. With help from the Hungarian resistance, he escaped across the border and after a dangerous journey through German lines reached the Partisans. From there he was eventually repatriated in Italy.
I’ve gone into so much detail about Roy Natusch because his story sheds a lot of light on Heinz Löwenstein/Henry Goff.
Another book published in 2016 citing Heinz was co-authored by David “Dai” Tom Davies, the Lance-Bombadier with whom Roy Natusch originally escaped from Stalag XVIIIA, and Ioan Wyn Evans. In the book, entitled “All for Freedom – A true story of escape from the Nazis,” he writes of Heinz during his time in Szigetvár:
[Page 101] “There was an exceptionally interesting character in our midst. A French Jew named Henry Lowenstein. Extremely able, he spoke many languages, but his greatest accomplishment was his ability to forge documents. He could make copies of official documents that would look every bit as authentic as the originals.”
[Page 103} “We needed to utilise Henry Lowensten’s forging skilled to make passports. We went to a photography shop in Szigetvar where two Jewish women very kindly took our pictures, free of charge. Lowenstein then made passports for us. We were given those so that we had ‘official documents’ if we were stopped by the authorities at any time.”
The reference to passports would presumably have been some type of Hungarian identity card rather than what we commonly call a passport. The German occupation of Hungary obviously forestalled their use as all the British escapees in Szigetvár were retaken on the 19th of March 1944. Upon their recapture, Davies and the other internees were sent to Dulag 172 in Zemun, Yugoslavia [German: Zemlin/Semlin] near Belgrade [today: Zemun, Serbia]. (Figure 12)
“We were taken to a place called Zemun. This was a Nazi concentration camp on the outskirts of Belgrade. Without a shadow of a doubt, it was the most awful place I had ever seen. Yes, I’d been held in pretty miserable places before. But they were nothing like this. Everywhere else paled into insignificance compared to Zemun.
It was difficult to comprehend what happened there and what would happen. It is absolutely impossible to describe Zemun to anyone who hasn’t been there, felt it, and smelled it. For me, this was simply hell on earth. The Nazi’s name for Zemun was Semlin, and it was located on the site of the old Belgrade Exhibition Grounds. There were several large buildings there known as pavilions. The Nazis had first taken people there to be incarcerated in 1941. At that time it was a Judenlager, a camp where the Jewish people were imprisoned. Thousands of Jews had been taken there, men, women and children. They weren’t guilty of any crimes, of course. They had simply been taken there because they were Jews, and Hitler hated them. And the horrible truth was that once the Jews arrived at Zenum, there was little chance they would leave alive.
The Nazis had these gas vans, also known as death vans. Cruelly, they would pile about 80 to 100 Jews at a time, including elderly people and young children, into the back of the large vans, and they would expose them to a poisonous gas which would kill them. Can you imagine such a thing? Apparently, 6,300 Jews were killed at Zemun between Marh and May 1942. That was just cold-blooded, inhuman cruelty.
After they had killed almost every single Jew to enter Zemun, the Nazis changed the camp status. From the middle of 1942 onwards it became an Anhaltelager, a camp where political prisoners were held. These were mostly Partisans from Yugoslavia, who now supported the Allies in the war. In truth, these people weren’t politically active. They were just ordinary Serbians from different parts of Yugoslavia. Many of them had just helped Partisan soldiers by offering them food or giving them shelter overnight, whilst several of them were just families and old people who happened to live in villages where there was support for the Partisans. They weren’t guilty of any real crimes.
By the time that we reached Zemun in March 1944 there were people of all ages and backgrounds there, many of them women and children. There were some Jewish people, but not many.
In the block where we were held, there wasn’t even a roof over our heads. To all interests and purposes, we were outdoors, exposed to the elements. In terms of hygiene and sanitation it was awful. I can’t remember seeing a single toilet there. It was absolutely disgusting. The stench was unlike anything I’d come across before – a potent mixture of the worst odours of life mixed with the unmistakable, lingering aroma of death.
As you can imagine, there was little food, and what we were given was incredibly bad. I remember a very weak cabbage soup, which looked like dirty water and tasted even worse. There was the odd scrap of stale bread, and tiny amounts of water. But there was nothing that was remotely nourishing. Nothing. People were starving there. Every single day there were several deaths. People were just dying on their feet.
There were scenes of unfathomable cruelty. I remember one day seeing a woman with a baby queuing for some food and holding a small bowl. When she got to the front, she was given a few drops of that horrible cabbage soup. Starving, she turned to the officer, and asked if she could have some more. But, instead of giving the young mother an extra spoonful, the officer knocked the bowl out of her hand and laughed in her face. Those of us waiting behind the woman were incensed by what we saw, and it was only the presence of heavily armed guards that prevented a riot. The sad truth was, though, that no one could really challenge these guards. Such bravery would have been folly: we would probably have been shot dead there and then. The only way we could help the young mother was by offering her some of the contents of our own meagre bowls. The poor woman didn’t get much, but it was better than nothing, and it was some kind of moral support.
It was little wonder that many lost their heads in such an atmosphere. Some poor desperate souls would run at the large wire fences and try to clamber over. Such attempts were futile, however. As they struggled to gain footholds on the fence, they were unceremoniously shot in the back. Very often the guards would leave their bodies there to decay, a reminder and warning to others who harboured similar thoughts of escape. The message was clear and stark. There was no way out.
We were kept in the block with no roof for several days, before a dozen or so of us were moved to another area of the camp. It was still unpleasant.”
While Zemun is today located in Serbia, according to Dai Davies the camp guards were Croatians. During an air raid that took place on the 16-17 April 1944, Davies escaped with three other internees. Like Ray Natusch, all were eventually repatriated to Italy via southern Yugoslavia.
Let me return briefly to the puzzling question of when Heinz Löwenstein possibly adopted the name Henry Goff. Brian Cooper believes this took place after Heinz arrived in Dulag 172. As the war went on, Brian knows from other cases that the German paperwork system broke down presenting Heinz with an opportunity to take on an alias. One must also remember that Heinz was a master forger, and there’s no reason to believe he wouldn’t have created a set of papers for himself bearing the Henry Goff name.
We know from the Visit Report the ICRC made to Szigetvár that Heinz was known to Hungarian authorities as Henry Lowenstein. We also know that the Germans headed straight to Szigetvár on the 19th of March 1944 after they invaded Hungary. No doubt, the Germans would have been told by the Hungarians the names of the POWs being detained there, so Heinz was no doubt still known as Lowenstein then. I also know from a prisoner card I obtained from the ICRC (see discussion below) that on the 24th of March 1944 he was transferred from Szigetvár under the name of Henry Lowenstein.
Aware of the potential dangers of being returned to German “care,” he probably decided to become Henry Goff if the opportunity arose. He would have let his fellow detainees know his alias. I assume he would have gotten rid of his German POW dog tag with his actual name and POW number from Lamsdorf to make it harder to trace him in the German war records. However, Francis Jones tells us on pages 151-52 that Lowenstein gave his Heinz Löwenstein dog tag to Ray Natusch when they briefly met again in Stalag XVIIA in Kaisersteinbruch, Austria after their escape and recapture. Perhaps Heinz was able to retain and hide his original dog tag? It seems Heinz only got his new POW number upon his arrival at Stalag XVIIIA (Wolfsberg) from Dulag 172 when he was telling the Germans that he was Henry Goff and before he was transferred to Stalag XVIIA.
Support for the notion that Henry Lowenstein became Henry Goff at Dulag 172 comes from a “Liberation Questionnaire” completed after the war by a Robert Vivian Sunley, one of the British POWs at Szigetvár. He writes:
“After removal from Hungary we were taken to Dulag 172 Belgrade and imprisoned. Following an American Bombing Raid I attempted an escape in the company of Pte Heinrich Lowenstein, a Palestinian of the Signal Corps then under the name of Henry Goff. We were spotted by the guard and fired upon, narrowly escaping death, and returned to closed imprisonment.”
Corporal Joseph Crolla was interned with Heinz in Szigetvár. Following the war, he also completed a “Liberation Questionnaire,” which corroborates some of the detailed information provided above. I quote:
“I went back and collected the other three who we had left to watch our kit. We all filed into the wagon (which was full of salt) except Hall who climbed in through the window after he had put a new seal on the door of the wagon. We were ten (10) days inside the wagon which was pretty tough owing to water difficulties, but between Hall and I in turns we got out of the wagon and found water. On the 4th of December 1942 we arrived at our destination a place called Hegyeshalom (on the Hungarian border) so we got out of the wagon and started walking further into Hungary. We must have walked twenty to thirty miles until we came to a barn where we bedded down for the night. The next morning we were rudely awakened by the farmer who was quite annoyed and scared to find five men sleeping in his hay but we bluffed him for a while by saying we were German soldiers who had wandered over the border while on maneuvers and were trying to find our way back again to Austria but had got lost. He invited us into his house for some breakfast, and at the same time sent his wife for the police (Gendarmes) who after we had a wash and something to eat arrived and took us away to a place called KOMOROM where we got treated not too badly, on Xmas day we were taken to Siklos Vaar, Siklos where we stayed until a Graf Andrassy, Szigetvar Hungary took us to his estate and gave us our freedom. We lived with this Graf until the Germans occupied Hungary on the 19th of March 1944, during this time there arrived two officers (at different times) first to come was a Colonel Howie (South African captured at Tobruck) and secondly a Captain Natusch (British, captured at Tunis). [EDITOR’S NOTE: ACCORDING TO FRANCIS JONES, ROY NATUSCH WAS CAPTURED IN KALAMATA, GREECE IN APRIL 1941 (p. 165)] Colonel Howie gave an order that anyone attempting to escape would find themselves on a Court Martial when returning to England. He also promised us that he would at least give us twenty (24) four hours warning if the Germans invaded Hungary so we could get away to Yugoslavia to join the Partisans as he had arranged everything for us, but without any warning the Germans walked into Hungary at 5:30 in the morning and recaptured all of us except Colonel Howie who was in Budapest at the time. Captain Natusch escaped that night although he had an escort of 7 Germans with Tommy guns, the Germans didn’t waste much time with the rest of us for before we knew what was happening we were on our way to a Dulag at Semmlin just across the River Sava from Belgrade, we had not a chance to get away as were heavily guarded until Easter Sunday (April 27 1944) when the Americans bombed our camp killing about 1500 prisoners of war (Italians and Serbs) during the raid that night five of us managed to get away (George Ratcliffe, Chestshires, John McAteer A.& S.H., John Martin Australian, Harry Grant Australian, and myself) but after two days of walking through bog country we walked into an Anti-Aircraft post and were recaptured, the Germans took us back to our camp the next day after a bit of trouble as the Croat people wanted to hang us as they thought we were American airmen, so after a bit of stone throwing and spitting we managed to get clear of the area, which was bombed to the ground. When we got back to the camp about midday there was another air raid on so for punishment, we were not allowed to go into the trenches but had to stand up out in the open with guards in the trenches round about us with orders to shoot to kill if any of us tried to make a break, they also took our boots and trousers from us. That same night McAteer and I got away again but were caught the very next morning by a German patrol and taken back to camp which was a blazing inferno, and the huts which were not on fire we soon put a match to them. A few days later all of us (about 12 British and 8 or ten American airmen) were put into a wagon (after removing our boots and trousers) and taken to Stalag 17A. Kaisersteinbruch Austria where we all got a severe interrogation then locked up together in a shed away from the other British P.O.W’s During our stay at the Stalag we met Brigadier Davies and a Colonel or Captain Verral with ten or eleven other officers (British and American) one of them had his legs broken and was refused medical aid. These officers told us they were going to Berlin for interrogation.”
Knowing the ICRC had visited Camp Siklós (Szigetvár) in its capacity as a Protecting Power, Brian suggested I ask them about any documentary materials they might have in their archives on Heinz Löwenstein/Henry Goff. Because of the large number of archival searches they are asked to do, one can only submit applications by email twice a year on specific dates. I applied in September 2023, and the ICRC responded in December with information on BOTH Heinz and Henry. I attach the summaries sent by the ICRC (Figures 13-14) and will highlight a few new things I learned.
The ICRC staffer handling my application told me that in her 20 years of working there, she’d never come across a case like the one involving my father’s first cousin, and the Houdini act he orchestrated in adopting an alias and thus having two dossiers on file with the ICRC. Because the ICRC contact took a personal interest in my request, she even discovered materials that had been misfiled citing Heinz.
The documents include a letter dated the 19th of June 1941 (Figure 15), written by the Greek Red Cross to the ICRC in Geneva which lists British militiamen who are POWs in Greece and who are interned in Goudi (Athens) concentration camp. The list includes “H. Loewenstein,” says he’s in good health, and gives the name of his wife living in Jerusalem, Palestine as the person to be notified of his status.
One prisoner card shows the precise date that Henry Lowenstein, as his name was then written, was interned in Camp Siklós, the 24th of October 1943. (Figure 16) A different prisoner card dated the 8th of December 1943 seems to suggest he was transferred to the castle estate of Count Andrassy in Szigetvár on the 16th of November 1943. (Figure 17) An attached document of British POWs on the estate of Count Andrassy at that time lists 16 individuals, including Henry Loewenstein, with an extra “e.” (Figure 18)
Yet another prisoner card shows Henry was transferred from Szigetvár on the 24th of March 1944, five days after the Germans invaded Hungary. (Figure 19) A list of POWs from that exact date includes 24 names (Figure 20), including “Captain” Roy Natusch, who we know escaped during the transfer. We also know from Dai Davies’ book that the British POWs were transferred from Szigetvár to Dulag 172 outside Belgrade, Yugoslavia; the distance between these places is approximately 225 miles.
The ICRC accompanied by a representative from the Hungarian Red Cross visited Szigetvár on the 24th of January 1944, and submitted a report written in French on the conditions there, which were described as excellent. Some interesting details can be gleaned from this report. There were no Hungarian guards, only two soldiers who were administrative liaisons to Camp Siklós. Prisoners were free to wander close by, but they needed special authorization to roam more widely. The POWs were paid 5 Pengös a day with 2 Pengös a day deducted for food. Roy Natusch is mentioned in this report, stating that he had excellent lodgings in the Count’s manor. The report paints a unique picture of how POWs were humanely treated by Count Andrassy.
The ICRC sent a prisoner card (Figure 21) for Henry Goff dated the 29th of June 1944 indicating his transfer from Stalag XVIIA (Kaisersteinbruch, Austria) to Stalag XVIIB (Gneixendorf, Austria). Trivially, this tells us that Henry’s last encounter with Roy Natusch, which took place upon Roy’s transfer from Budapest to Neubrandenburg with a layover in Stalag XVIIA, had to have occurred before the end of June 1944.
Brian Cooper is a real wizard at unearthing and sleuthing out military documents and first-hand accounts from various archives, books, etc. One day he sent me a picture (Figure 22) he came across on Facebook, of all places, captioned as follows: “The Israeli Jewish soldiers of the UK Pioneers Corps in a photo taken in Lamsdorf (unknown date between 1941 and 1944).” He suggested I check each of the faces to see if Heinz might be among them. Astonishingly he is! He is the individual seated in the front row on the far left. Even though he was only between 36 and 39 years of age at the time, clearly internment made him look much older.
If this picture was indeed from Lamsdorf, I can narrow the period when it was taken to between the 28th of July 1941, when Heinz was transferred from Stalag XVIIIA (Wolfsberg, Austria) to Stalag VIIIB (Lamsdorf) and his final escape from Lamsdorf in Fall or Winter of 1943. Following his recapture in Szigetvár, Hungary, and his return to Austria in 1944 via Dulag 172 (Zemun, Yugoslavia) to Stalag XVIIA (Kaisersteinbruck, Austria) and Stalag XVIIB (Gneixendorf, Austria), he was never returned to Lamsdorf, so the picture was not taken in 1944.
Another item of interest Brian found for Henry Lowenstein was a reference to him in a so-called “mentioned in despatches,” under the dossier WO 373/103/370. (Figure 23)
The man who likely recommended this award for Heinz was Sergeant Major Norman McLean, ostensibly the senior military POW at Szigetvár prior to “Captain” Roy Natusch’s arrival. From McLean’s account, we can confirm that Heinz Löwenstein escaped from captivity four times, not including his short-lived escape from Dulag 172. Given his skill as a forger, Brian and I both wonder why he was allowed to escape Lamsdorf? One would think the camp leadership would have valued him more for his skills forging documents than risking his life on the lam, particularly as a Jew.
With this observation, I conclude this very lengthy and involved post. I’m not optimistic I’ll learn much more about Heinz Löwenstein’s daring exploits during the war. However, there’s always a chance of uncovering additional accounts from some of Heinz’s fellow internees. Another possibility I’m looking into is trying to determine whether the universal legatee in Israel involved in my claim with the French Ministry of Culture, who is one of the heirs to Fedor Löwenstein’s estate via Heinz, may have inherited a diary, documents, or photos from him. Hope springs eternal.
REFERENCES
Davies, D.T.A. & Ioan Wyn Evans. All for Freedom: A True Story of Escape from the Nazis. Gomer Press, 2016.
Jones, Francis S. The Double Dutchman: A story of wartime escape and intrigue. The Dunmore Press Limited, Palmerston North, New Zealand, 1977.
Rofe, Cyril. Against the Wind. 1st ed., Hodder & Stoughton, 1956.
Note: A stash of 60 letters written between January 1940 and June 1946 by my father’s first cousin Fedor Löwenstein to Marcelle Rivier, an accomplished artist and erstwhile girlfriend, was donated to Paris’ Institut national d’histoire de l’art (INHA). These letters form the basis of a two-part article written by Jérôme Delatour from INHA about the artist’s life during this period and the depressive climate of the Nazi Occupation. I synopsize some of M. Delatour’s discussions which augment what I’ve previously written about Fedor.
With so much of today’s interpersonal communications taking place via email, texts, social media, etc., I often consider that future genealogists and historians may not have written correspondence available to them to round out their understanding of people they study, whether they be ancestors or not. Absent contemporary letters, unless diaries are found, it may be difficult for researchers to develop a complete picture of their subjects nor the ordeals they confronted. Similarly, with so many of today’s pictures being stored in the cloud, it is fair to wonder how many of these images will be printed and survive. With this in mind, any time I gain access to a cache of letters and pictures left behind by one of my relatives, particularly when they were renowned, it is cause for celebration.
Readers are reminded that the previous two posts, Posts 160 and 161, largely dealt with Fedor Löwenstein.
The National Institute for Art History (INHA) was created in 2001 for the purpose of consolidating and promoting research in art history and heritage studies. Its main mission is the advancement of scholarly research and international cooperation in the field. It sets up research and educational programs as well as activities for the dissemination of knowledge that serve both art historians and the general public.
With its library, the INHA also provides a unique collection of resources and documentation in this field. The Institute is run jointly by the French Ministry of Higher Education and Research and the French Ministry of Culture.
The letters that were the source of the two-part article written by Jérôme Delatour were donated to the INHA in January 2016 by Danièlle and Bernard Sapet, owners of the Sapet Gallery in Valence, France. The collection consists of sixty letters signed by Fedor Löwenstein, 58 of them addressed to Marcelle Rivier and two to unknown recipients. The Sapets came into possession of these letters because of their association with Marcelle Rivier (1906-1986) when they assisted her in the final years of her life when she lived in Mirmande in the Drôme department of southeastern France. (Figure 3) Today the Sapets are the custodians of her house in Mirmande and of the artist’s archives.
Fedor Löwenstein’s letters to Marcelle Rivier provide details on some of the events discussed in earlier posts. Let me briefly review Fedor and Marcelle’s lives, then provide relevant background drawn from the letters.
Fedor Löwenstein was born in Munich in 1901 but was of Czechoslovakian extraction. He was part of the vast movement of Eastern European artists who made their way to Paris attracted by the cultural influence of the city. Before immigrating to France in 1923, Löwenstein had studied at the School of Decorative Arts in Berlin, then at the Academy of Fine Arts in Dresden.
The Eastern European artists contributed to the brilliance of the so-called École de Paris, the “School of Paris”; in reality, this name does not refer to any school that really existed, but rather to the movement which brought together artists who contributed to making Paris the focus of artistic creation between the two world wars. It was in this rich artistic context that Löwenstein painted and drew.
In Paris he mixed with and became a student of the painter André Lhote (1885-1962) from Bordeaux. He exhibited at the Salon des Surindépendants before joining the “Groupe des Surindépendants” in 1936. The Salon and the Artistic Association of the Sur-Independents were founded in the autumn of 1928 by a few artists who no longer wanted an admission jury and questioned the restrictions imposed by the new regulations of the Salon des Indépendants promulgated in 1924.
Löwenstein’s early works were marked by the influence of cubism, whose main representatives worked in Paris, although his subsequent productions evolved towards abstraction (Figure 4), probably under the influence of André Lhote. In 1938, he painted “La Chute” (The Fall) (Figure 5), inspired by the signing of the Munich Agreement that dismantled then-Czechoslovakia that had been created in 1918. The composition and symbolism in the work are reminiscent of the convulsed and screaming silhouettes of Picasso’s Guernica, a lofty comparison.
Marcelle Rivier, Fedor’s future girlfriend, was French though she grew up in Argentina; she was characterized as a woman of “fiery temperament.” She was a saleswoman in an art gallery in Buenos Aires in 1924, a model from 1930 to 1934, a music-hall dancer in 1935, but above all a painter. (Figure 6) In the 1930s, she exhibited at the Salon d’Automne and the Salon des Tuileries. During the Occupation, she was a member of the Resistance, often exhibiting great carelessness and recklessness, according to Jérôme Delatour.
Marcelle Rivier arrived in Paris in 1928 and studied at the Léger and Julian academies. Like Löwenstein, she was a student of André Lhote and enrolled in his course. During the summer, he took his students to Mirmande in the Drôme, where the painter had settled in 1926.
In 1936, Marcelle Rivier married the well-respected journalist Ferdinand Auberjonois (1910-2004), though the marriage was short-lived. After a short stay in New York, she returned to Paris in 1938 and it was then that she met Löwenstein. At the time, Fedor was still involved with Doris Halphen, whom I introduced to readers in Post 161. However, by November 1939, Marcelle and Fedor were romantically involved, a tumultuous affair that lasted until October-November 1943. (Figure 7)
Let me now turn to the contents of some of Fedor Löwenstein’s letters
In a letter addressed to Marcelle Rivier dated the 11th of May 1940, Fedor Löwenstein wrote to her about the 25 paintings that are the subject of my restitution and repatriation claim against the French Ministry of Culture. In the spring of 1940, when he had to flee Paris as quickly as possible in the face of the advancing German army, Fedor nonetheless took the time to package and ship the 25 works of art for an exhibition to be held at the Nierendorf Gallery in New York. He wrote: “It is only on Monday that I will know if my paintings are leaving, or if I should abandon this dream. I had a bad feeling.” Löwenstein was right. As I’ve told readers in previous posts, his crates were seized on December 5, 1940, at the port of Bordeaux, and shipped to the Jeu des Paume in Paris, where most were torn to shreds with knives, then burned during the month of July 1943
Fedor Löwenstein was apparently back in Paris before the Nazis entered the city on the 14th of June 1940 but left the capital at the last minute for Mirmande.
In April 1941, Fedor left Mirmande to go to Nice to see his mother and sister who lived there, and in the vague hope of embarking for Mexico. In a scene that must have been oft repeated across Europe wherever Jews seeking to escape the Nazis waited for travel visas, Löwenstein wrote on the 24th of April 1941, of the gloomy and depressive atmosphere:
“On the Promenade des Anglais, where the spinach-green uniforms of German and Italian officers clash with the monotonous-azure blue, Jews from all over the world await the messiah in the form of an affidavit. The corpses are well dressed, they have only been able to save this and 20 marks and there are not 36 ways to escape the debacle. From time to time I meet an old acquaintance, thrown from the bottom of the sea by the tidal wave, we shake hands, and we are hardly surprised to see each other here – and besides, what is the point – and where? Get the hell out of here! But Lena, who was here for a few days (Lena is my Polish friend who lives in Marseille) wired [sic] to Hollywood so that [I] could go to Mexico. I will let myself be taken away, but I do not ‘feel’ my departure. . .”
In a letter from the 30th of April 1940, he writes:
“It is curious, all the same, this atmosphere of the morning coffee, this idleness in front of a piece of white paper and more umbrellas in front of the window of the café in a minute than all year on the square of the Champs de Mars in Mirmande. It smells of dampness, damp clothes, the smell of cooking, cat pee, and the national coffee. Apart from that, I have never been able to appreciate this ‘pearl of the Mediterranean’”
The above characterizations sounds very Kafkaesque.
Seemingly having been unable to obtain the affidavit necessary to immigrate to Mexico, and having nothing more to do in Nice, Löwenstein resolved to meet Marcelle Rivier in Mirmande in late 1941 and keep a low profile. Hence the interruption in letters between December 23, 1941, and June 4, 1943. However, the Nazi invasion on the 11th of November 1942, of the previously unoccupied zone of France, the southern part of the country where the Vichy regime operated, forced Fedor further into hiding. On a full moon night in February 1943, Marcelle Rivier evacuated him from Mirmande, disguised as a peasant woman. He went to Cliousclat where he was taken in by Mena Loopuyt (1902-1991), a Dutch painter, then hidden in the Abbey of Aiguebelle.
Löwenstein complained bitterly about the soul-sucking (my words) work that was required of him for protection by the monks. He was expected to contribute to the beautification of the monastery. He writes in a letter dated the 30th of September 1943:
“The work that has been stuck with me this time is so disgusting that I wonder how I will do it, having accepted the fruit jellies as an advance. Imagine tile plates on which, in relief, a nymph is picking flowers. All of this is the purest new style, but so disgusting as a ‘spirit’ and as a material that one must, I think, beat the sole throughout South America to find one’s equal. And I must color them. Yesterday I told Father A[bbé] that if I asked them to sing songs from the guardroom at the basilica, it would have the same effect on them as it would on me to ‘paint’ it.”
In what Jérôme Delatour characterizes as a “source of much pain and self-sacrifice,” Löwenstein was commissioned to paint the portrait of the abbot. The abbot was not at all pleased with the result, perhaps upset by the theft of 53 bottles of liquor from the abbey, exclaiming: “this is not my skin, not my eyes, I’m not so fat, what is this bosse (bump) on my head!” (30th of September 1943) Admittedly, the portrait of the abbot is not very flattering. (Figure 8)
Löwenstein’s letters of love and war reflect a self-awareness that as a Jew and a Czechoslovakian he was “doubly undesirable in the new Europe of the early 1940s.” On May 27, 1940, he wrote, “virtually all Czechoslovakia have been in a concentration camp with one foot. But the other, my good leg, is still at large. . .this morning at the consulate we were told we must provide letters written by Frenchmen, vouching for our entire loyalty to France.”
Löwenstein’s legitimate concerns were affirmed with the enactment by the Vichy regime of “The Law of 4 October 1940 regarding foreign nationals of the Jewish race,” which authorized and organized the internment of foreign Jews and marked the beginning of the policy of collaboration of the Vichy regime with Nazi Germany’s plans for the extermination of the Jews of Europe.
All Löwenstein’s letters mention his health problems: “slight itching, general weakness, sweating, without making me feel ‘really ill’’’ (8 January 1944), which spoke to the “enemy within.” Realizing he needed to be seen by a specialist, using the alias “Lauriston,” he traveled to Paris in November 1943. A blood test confirmed he was suffering from Hodgkin lymphoma, a blood cancer that primarily affects the lymphatic system and that was incurable at the time.
His nighttime description of occupied Paris is haunting:
“Going out in Paris at night is a bit tricky, especially when it’s raining like last night. Imagine when you get out of the subway, that you are immersed in black ink, indelible and absolute. Little by little, you can see around you other shadows that have come out of hell and are waiting like you for the moment when they ‘see’. . .Finally, the shadows, in groups, leave, feel the void, pierce the darkness, fall, rise, collide and arrive as if by a miracle, just like ants underground by instinct, in front of the theatre.” (26 November 1943)
Löwenstein spent the whole of 1944 in Paris, miraculously unmolested by the Nazis. His letters to Marcelle Rivier were rare at the time, as the couple had broken up in the autumn of 1943, although it’s possible that any letters from this period have disappeared. According to Jérôme Delatour, apart from a greeting card at the end of the year, there were no letters in 1945, and only two in 1946.
As Jérôme Delatour suggests, in his letters Fedor Löwenstein passionately captured a sense of the period’s depressive climate, the moral dissolution that accompanied the fall of France following the country’s rapid capitulation to Germany, and the time of the Occupation, dominated by material concerns and the price of and access to food. Even though the dangers were very real, Fedor’s letters seem almost to have distilled them to down-to-earth questions: “The valley is just a box full of dirty cotton. . .Everything froze and for the pockets of the people of Mirmande, a cauliflower at 4.50 is too expensive. We live on pasta, noodles and macaroni. . .For a vegetarian of my talent, it’s almost starvation. Already.” (Mirmande, 27 March 1940) Expectedly, rationing also affected the availability of art supplies.
Given his deteriorating condition and the Nazis changing fortunes in 1944-1945, following his departure from Paris, Fedor likely returned to Nice to spend his remaining days with his mother and sister. (Figure 9) The last words in his last letter to Marcelle Rivier were “Do you continue to paint?” (Nice, 21 June 1946) In this letter he also announced that he would be having a major exhibition in Cannes to coincide with the film festival there in September. Löwenstein was hospitalized on August 4, 1946, and died soon thereafter. (Figure 10) The first Cannes Film Festival opened on September 20th. Marcelle Rivier continued to paint until her death in 1986.
