The Kindly Ones

In the end, it was Thomas who started things going for me again. After Poland, he had gone to Yugoslavia and Greece, from which he returned a Hauptsturmführer, decorated many times over. He always wore a uniform now, as elegantly tailored as his suits had been before. In May 1941, he invited me to dine at Horcher’s, a famous restaurant on the Lutherstrasse. “It’s my treat,” he declared, laughing loudly. He ordered some Champagne and we drank to victory: “Sieg Heil!” Past victories and victories yet to come, he added; had I heard about Russia? “I’ve heard rumors,” I acknowledged, “but that’s all.” He smiled: “We’re attacking. Next month.” He paused to give the news all its weight. “Good God,” I finally let out. “There is no God. There’s just Adolf Hitler, our Führer, and the invincible power of the German Reich. We are in the process of amassing the largest army in the history of humanity. We will crush them in a few weeks.” We drank. “Listen,” he finally said. “The Chief is forming several Einsatzgruppen to accompany the assault troops from the Wehrmacht. Special units, as in Poland. I have reason to believe that he would positively welcome any talented young SS officer who would volunteer for this Einsatz.”—“I’ve already tried to volunteer. For France. They refused.”—“They won’t refuse this time.”—“What about you, are you going there?” He gently swirled the Champagne in his glass. “Of course. I’ve been posted to one of the Gruppenstäbe. Each Group will direct several Kommandos. I’m sure you could land a slot in one of the Kommandostäbe.”—“And what exactly is the purpose of these Groups?” He smiled: “I told you: special actions. SP and SD work, the security of the troops to the rear, intelligence, things like that. Keeping an eye on the military, too. They were a little difficult, in Poland, a little old-fashioned; we don’t want that to happen again. You want to think about it?” Does it surprise you that I didn’t even hesitate? What Thomas was suggesting seemed only reasonable to me, even exciting. Put yourself in my place. What man of sane mind could ever have imagined that they’d pick jurists to assassinate people without a trial? My ideas were clear and strong and I scarcely gave it a thought before replying: “No need. I’m bored to death here in Berlin. If you can get me in, I’ll go.” He smiled again: “I always said you were a good guy, that you could be counted on. You’ll see, we’re going to have fun.” I laughed with pleasure and we drank some more Champagne. Thus does the devil expand his kingdom.