Arts, Books, History, Literature

Book Review: Reckonings

HOLOCAUST

Intro: Up to a million people were involved in the extermination of Jews in Hitler’s death camps, yet only a paltry 6,600 were convicted

THE recent publication of Reckonings, Mary Fulbrook’s monumental account of the attempt to bring the perpetrators of the Holocaust to justice, is propitious in its timing. It coincides with the rise in anti-Semitism.

The British historian has already won acclaim for her earlier work, A Small Town Near Auschwitz: Ordinary Nazis And The Holocaust. This latest volume deserves awards, too.

As with all detailed work related to the Nazis’ programme of exterminating the entire European Jewish population, a prospective reader should be warned: the depravity described is almost impossible to read. It is disturbing.

But it is a sense of deep injustice, as well as horror, that will eventually overcome readers of Reckonings. Its main theme is how the overwhelming majority of those involved in the murder of an estimated six million men, women and children were either never brought to justice or were dealt with so leniently that it amounted to the victims being gravely insulted.

Fulbrook estimates that “perhaps 200,000 people, and possibly closer to a million, were at one point or another actively involved in killing Jewish civilians. And the ranks of those who made this possible were far wider”.

The solitary name of Auschwitz has become almost synonymous with the Holocaust and the mass murder of Jews, but there were around another 1,200 “sub-camps” spread across the Reich.

Yet, out of a total of 172,294 participants prosecuted, only 6,656 were convicted. And the overwhelming majority of those actually found guilty received sentences of less than two years’ imprisonment.

One reason for that was the astonishing efficiency of the Nazis’ methods. As Fullbrook duly observes, the West German courts, originally charged with bringing the perpetrators to justice, needed witnesses but “the more perfect the extermination machinery, the less likely the murderers were to be found guilty”.

For example, there were only two known survivors of the Belzec extermination camp, where an estimated half a million people had been gassed – and one of those survivors was killed in suspicious circumstances before he could give evidence.

Only one person, Josef Oberhauser, was convicted, in Munich in 1965, in connection with this mass slaughter.

 

THIRTEEN of the 14 witnesses called to testify in court were former SS personnel. But as Fulbrook writes, were “hardly likely to want to incriminate their former colleagues and in the process risk incriminating themselves”.

In general, the West German courts would acquit those who could make a case that they had little choice but to perform their role in the mass murder (though there are no records of anyone who was punished for refusing to participate).

Claims by many of the perpetrators that they had done their best to make the victims’ final moments more bearable were also treated as a mitigating factor.

The 1966 trial of Walter Thormeyer, a former SS Hauptscharfuhrer, provides a vivid and grotesque example. His deputy, Rudi Zimmermann, one of the miniscule number to display remorse and who actually turned himself in, told the court that, on the occasion of mass killings: “Thormeyer appeared to prefer shooting the female Jews personally… with a certain relish.”

In fact, Thormeyer had a Jewish mistress, but when he feared that this (a crime under Nazi law) would be discovered, he took her for a walk in some woods… and shot her in the back of the neck.

The judge declared that this was a token of Thormeyer’s “consideration”, and the act “humane” – because his mistress had been spared the knowledge that he was going to kill her.

Thormeyer was, at the time of his trial, an official in the West German court system and, as Fulbrook observes, one reason for the general lenience of the sentencing (Thormeyer himself got 12 years) was that the entire German legal bureaucracy was riddled with ex-Nazis.

The idea that the extermination camps were killing Jews “humanely”, by using gas, rather than bullets, was invariably suggested by those put-on trial afterwards, most notably Rudolf Hoess, the commandant of Auschwitz.

In his memoir, he wrote how “humane” this was: “I was relieved that we would be spared all these bloodbaths, and that the victims too would be spared suffering until their last moment came.” Such concern for the victims. Pah.

It was solely out of concern for the killers that mass shootings were supplanted by gassing. The splattering of the brains of women and children was said to have had a deleterious effect on the morale of all but the most depraved German (and, indeed, Austrian) executioners. And it was anything but a humane killing: the very use of the word in connection with mass extermination is itself utterly repulsive.

 

DURING one of her – thankfully rare – accounts of what actually happened, Fulbrook provides citation from one involved in the gassings at Treblinka, Chil Rajchman (whose main job was extracting gold fillings from the dead): “During their death agonies from asphyxiation the bodies also became swollen, so the corpses form literally a single mass.”

He observed that there were differences between the bodies recovered from the smaller and larger gas chambers: in the smaller chamber, death took 20 minutes, whereas in the larger chambers, it took three-quarters of an hour.

Corpses from the larger chambers “were horribly deformed, their faces all black as if burned, the bodies swollen and blue, the teeth so tightly clenched that it was impossible to open them”.

Which, as Rajchman observed, made his job of pulling out all those gold crowns even more difficult.

This is the process whose vast majority of active participants the post-war German courts exonerated on the basis that they were “only obeying orders”.

Yet, as Fulbrook summarises it, “obeying orders” was only one element.

There were also “varying combinations of careerism, cowardice, conformity, fear, lust, brutalisation, hopelessness”.

She adds to that list “desire for reward”. For yes, there were takings to be had from the desperate Jews, before exterminating them.

Obviously, modern-day Germany is not that of the immediate post-war period, when self-preservation and shame combined to hide and conceal the truth.

Yet, during 2018, the head of the increasingly popular Alternative for Deutschland party (AfD), Alexander Gauland, declared the crimes of Hitler and the Nazis to be just “a speck of bird shit in over 1,000 years of glorious German history”.

Mary Fulbrook, or any reader who is repulsed at such comments, should send him a copy of her book.

. Reckonings by Mary Fulbrook is published by OUP for £25, 672pp

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Arts, Books, Literature

Recommended Biographies…

SUMMARIES

. Robert Graves by Jean Moorcroft Wilson (published by Bloomsbury for £25, 480pp)

ALONG with Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon, Robert Graves was one of the great poets of the First World War. Graves was born in 1895 and when war broke out a week after he left school, he enlisted aged 19.

Jean Moorcroft Wilson describes his troubled schooldays at Charterhouse and the horror of the war, during which he was wounded and reported dead. He survived, and, whilst he was haunted by his experiences, married 18-year-old feminist artist Nancy Nicolson.

The first volume of Moorcroft Wilson’s finely researched biography concludes with the scandalous end of Graves’s marriage, when he and American poet Laura Riding – who had been conducting a turbulent, four-sided relationship with Nancy and Riding’s married lover – threw themselves out of the upstairs windows of their Hammersmith house.

. Becoming by Michelle Obama (published by Viking for £25, 448pp)

FOR most of us, making a toasted cheese sandwich would be almost the least exotic thing we could do. But for Michelle Obama, after eight years in the White House, sitting in the garden of her own house and eating toasted cheese felt like “my new life just beginning to announce itself . . . Here I am, in this new place”, she writes in the preface to her autobiography, “with a lot I want to say”.

Born into a working-class family in Chicago, she studied at Princeton and became a lawyer at a prestigious Chicago law firm, where she mentored a geeky summer associate named Barack Obama. When they bought ice-cream cones one summer evening and kissed for the first time, Michelle had no idea of the destiny that would one day find her bonding with the Queen over their uncomfortable shoes.

Warm-hearted, funny, passionate about social justice and movingly candid about the problems of being a politician’s wife, Becoming is as compulsive to read as a great novel.

. On Leopard Rock by Wilbur Smith (published by Zaffre for £20, 368pp)

FROM his early childhood years and onwards, Wilbur Smith’s twin passions have been hunting and writing. The secret of both, he observes, is tenacity. Smith was born in 1933, in what is now Zambia, to parents who would inspire his future career in different ways. His father, Herbert, was obsessed with hunting (when Wilbur was a child, Herbert shot three man-eating lions), while his mother, Elfreda, was a passionate reader. Shelves of books lined the walls of their ranch house, and every night she would read to Wilbur in bed.

Soon he was determined to become a writer himself, an idea that his father vigorously opposed: “You’ll starve to death,” he predicted.

Uninhibited by the political correctness he detests, Smith’s memoir is a rollicking yarn of slaughtered wildlife, literary superstardom and late-blooming love. “I won’t stop writing until I stop breathing,” he promises.

. Not The Whole Truth by Angela Huth (published by Constable for £20, 320pp)

“SUDDENLY I am old”, writes the journalist and novelist Angela Huth, author of Land Girls. She was born in 1938, the daughter of the director and producer Harold Huth and his wife, Bridget. While Angela adored her father, her mother was “bored stiff by small children”, leaving Angela and her sister to be looked after by a devoted Nanny, who did her best to conceal their mother’s penchant for gin: “Oh dear, poor mummy fell down the stairs last night.”

Haphazardly educated at a girls’ boarding school, Angela studied art in Paris and Italy before returning “to face the dotty business of becoming a debutante”. A longing to write led her to Queen Magazine, where she met the brilliant journalist Quentin Crewe, who would become her first husband. There ensued an intensely glamorous Bohemian social life, with friends including David Frost and Princess Margaret, who shared Huth’s unusual phobia about dolls.

Deliciously gossipy and trenchant, Not The Whole Story is an entertaining collection of stories from times past.

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Arts, Books, History

A Review of Recommended History Books 2018:

SUMMARIES

. Churchill: Walking With Destiny by Andrew Roberts (published by Allen Lane for £35, 1,152pp)

ANOTHER Churchill biography? Surely, some might say, that’s as unnecessary as a second Brexit referendum.

But Andrew Robert’s immensely readable and engaging addition to the already vast oeuvre poses a timely question: are sheer bloody-minded grit and bulldog determination really enough to win the day against impossible odds?

They were for Churchill – but now?

For all the failures in his political life – with the disastrous Gallipoli campaign in World War I just one of many – he proved himself equal to a crisis. When the crunch came, he, unlike more timid contemporaries, had the vision to call correctly the biggest issue of the time: that Hitler had to be faced down and damn the consequences.

Just as importantly, he had amassed the political skills, the rounded life experience that comes from both success and failure and the sheer strength of personality to be a leader who, against incalculable odds, could pull this off.

He had the oratory too – that soaring ability to persuade and inspire, to win over hearts and minds to a common cause. (Yes, he told lies, he exaggerated, he talked setbacks into victories – regrettable but necessary for the greater good, he argued.)

Politicians today are sound-bite ciphers, robots or clowns by comparison. This book is a reminder of what greatness is, and how far short of it they fall. Too many, on all sides in the Brexit debacle, believe destiny is calling them, as it did Churchill in 1940. But is there a new Churchill among them at this hour of need? Many will fear not.

. Written In History: Letters That Changed The World by Simon Sebag Montefiore (published by W & N for £14.99, 272pp)

PRIVATE LETTERS are crucial building blocks for the historian, their authentic voices a passport to the realities of the past – and so much more discreet and revealing than today’s emails and texts are ever likely to be. Simon Sebag Montefiore’s entertaining and enlightening miscellany includes Gandhi, Napoleon, Picasso, Mozart and a hundred more across the centuries where rich pearls of their lives can be extracted.

Some are truly revolutionary and visionary – such as Christopher Columbus’s 1493 message to King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella that he has sailed west across the ocean and discovered “many new islands”. He reassures them that “I saw no monsters”.

Others are very personal – a defiant Mark Antony insists he’s done nothing wrong in sleeping with Cleopatra.

Then there’s Hitler explaining to Mussolini why he’s about to invade Russia, signing himself off with “With hearty and comradely greetings” and unaware that this was the action that would ultimately lose him the war.

Not all changed the world – Leonard Cohen’s farewell to his muse Marianne is not in that category – but all are fascinating, as are the compiler’s comments on each letter, little gems of potted history in their own right.

. Thomas Cromwell: A Life by Diarmaid MacCulloch (published by Allen Lane for £30, 752pp)

NOR is there anyone with the political genius of Thomas Cromwell, the architect of the original Brexit – England’s split from the pan-European power of the Pope in Rome in the 16th century.

He did this initially so his royal master, Henry VIII, could divorce the queen who had failed to produce him a son, and marry Anne Boleyn. In the process, he established the supremacy of the Crown, national independence from a foreign overlord and the distinctive Protestant nature of the Church of England.

What gave the low-born Cromwell the edge to carry through such fundamental change was that he combined the skills of businessman, lawyer and astute politician to outmanoeuvre the aristocrats of the Tudor court. His meticulous, almost obsessive attention to every last detail was the key to his success, along with a ruthlessness and ambition that helped him acquire positions, wealth, power – and enemies.

He fell in the end because Leaver Henry turned out to be a closet Remainer when it came to religion. Clinging to the Catholic faith and distrusting Cromwell’s brand of Protestantism, he cut off his chief minister’s head out of pique – and promptly regretted it.

The book is, though, a master-class in good, old-fashioned academic history as MacCulloch, professor of church history at Oxford, brings Cromwell to life exclusively from contemporary sources. No speculation or flights of fancy, just superb investigative work in the archives. Hard going at times but well worth it.

. Crucible by Jonathan Fenby (published by Simon & Schuster for £25, 624pp)

THE 13 months from June 1947 to June 1948 are when the modern world as we know it was forged, according to Jonathan Fenby, sadly stacking up more problems than solutions and bequeathing us global troubles that, 70 years on, are still flashpoints.

In the aftermath of World War II, there was flux and change everywhere. It was as if the world were recalibrating and rebooting itself all in one go. Old certainties were discarded; new alliances formed.

The British left India in a hurry and religious groups fought each other for supremacy in a civil war of such violence that the only solution was the partition between India and Pakistan, leaving a terrible legacy of distrust and hate.

At the same time, Israel was forcibly created out of Palestine, in the teeth of deep-seated Arab opposition and displacement. The British Balfour Declaration which created the initial territorial split in Palestine was the precursor to seeding decades of a dangerous conflict which still remains unresolved.

Europe split into the armed camps of western capitalism, led from Washington, and Soviet communism, led from Moscow. Lands were fought over and divvied up between the super-powers. Germany was divided. A Cold War ensued.

Fenby plots these changes month by month as, across the globe, a brand new world emerged – one every bit as fragmented, perhaps even more so, than the one it replaced.

. Arnhem by Anthony Beevor (published by Viking for £25, 480pp)

WHAT turns battles is often not the enemy but the overreaching egotism and dubious motives of the commanders who plan them.

Arnhem was far-fetched from the moment Britain’s Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery proposed flying Allied paratroopers to eastern Holland, seizing the bridge across the Rhine and launching a surprise attack through the back door into Hitler’s Germany in September 1944.

It was a product of his self-obsession with getting one over on the Americans. He felt slighted that they were grabbing pole position for the invasion of the Third Reich. I’ll show them how it’s done, was his response.

High-risk even on paper, to have any chance of success the operation depended on precision, coordination and good luck. But when boots were on the ground, none of these happened.

The result was a shambles, with communication lines hopelessly overstretched and those at the forefront of the assault outgunned and outflanked.

With his telling eye for personal detail, Beevor’s roundly researched account of the battle is overladen with gloom that so many men fought heroically but went to their deaths or into captivity for no good reason. He quotes a despairing officer who watched his men fall one by one to sniper fire and could only hope that “the sacrifice that was ours will have achieved something – yet I feel it hasn’t.”

. See also Book Review – Arnhem: The Battle For The Bridges, 1944

COLD WAR

. A Spy Named Orphan: The Enigma of Donald Maclean by Roland Philipps (published by Bodley Head for £20, 448pp)

TWO things never cease to amaze about the Cambridge spy ring exposed in the 1950s.

First, that these closet communists who sold their souls to the Soviet Union were allowed to reach some of the most sensitive positions in British government circles; second, that their indiscreet personal behaviour never raised any doubts that they might be security risks.

Donald Maclean was given two monikers at the Foreign Office – “Sir Donald”, because he was an exceptional Whitehall mandarin tipped for the top job as Permanent Secretary, and “Gordon”, after the gin he was often inebriated on. This incompatibility should have triggered red-flag warnings.

Instead, since he was so palpably “one of us” – aristocratic air, MP father, public school education, first from Trinity Hall – the deluded, self-serving Establishment failed to realise that, in reality, he was “one of them”, a mole working undercover for Stalin.

Drawing on classified government files not released until 2015, Roland Philipps reveals the truth about the troubled toff who was a genuine convert to communism in his student days and recruited by the Russians with the deliberate intention of infiltrating the Civil Service.

As this superbly written tale unfolds, you find yourself screaming in exasperation – how did no one within the security and intelligence community notice until it was too late?

. The Spy And The Traitor by Ben Macintyre (published by Viking for £25, 384pp)

LIKE Maclean, Oleg Gordievsky was a believer who switched sides – though in the opposite direction. A senior KGB officer, he came to detest the dour Soviet regime in Moscow and its denial of freedom.

Seeking its downfall, he took the huge personal risk of dangling himself in front of MI6, who (cautiously at first) snapped him up and made him its most successful double agent.

The story – of his recruitment, his spying activities as he rose to be the top KGB man in the Soviet embassy in London, then his grim encounters with the Moscow spy-catchers and hair-raising escape from Russia under the noses of suspicious Soviet minders – is told with the panache of a spy thriller. And it’s all the more gripping because this is real life, not fiction.

But, as well as the drama, what is fascinating is to discover what the West learned from Gordievsky. He passed on a deep, insider’s knowledge of the inner sanctum and workings of the KGB and the paranoid mindset of the Kremlin. This was invaluable to the likes of Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan in deciding how to stand up to the Soviet leadership without frightening them into precipitating World War III.

More than 30 years since his defection in 1985, Gordievsky still lives in hiding for fear of a revenge attack. His caution is wise, given the attempt to assassinate a more recent double agent and defector, Sergei Skripal, in Salisbury. Though the Skripal event should properly rank more as current affairs than history, it is, nevertheless, the latest phase in the lengthy spy war between the West and Russia.

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