The Kindly Ones

The fatality of things in Kiev only increased my unease. In the hallway of the palace of young virgins, I met an acquaintance from Berlin: “Sturmbannführer Eichmann! You’ve been promoted. Congratulations!”—“Ah! Dr. Aue. I’ve been looking for you. I have a package for you. It was given to me at the Prinz-Albrecht-Palais.” I had known this officer back when he was setting up for Heydrich the Central Offices for Jewish Emigration; he would often come to my department to consult us on legal questions. He was an Obersturmführer then; now, he was sporting his four new diamonds on the neck of a black dress uniform that contrasted sharply with our campaign feldgrau. He strutted about like a little rooster; it was curious, he had left me with the impression of a hurried, plodding civil servant; I hardly recognized him now. “And what brings you here?” I asked him, inviting him into my office.—“Your package, and I have another one for one of your colleagues.”—“No, I mean to Kiev.” We had sat down and he leaned forward with a conspiratorial air: “I came to see the Reichsführer.” He was obviously beaming with pride and seemed eager to talk: “With my Amtschef. On special invitation.” He leaned over again: now he looked like a bird of prey, small and furtive. “I had to present a report. A statistical report. Prepared by my staff. You know that I head a whole Referat now?”—“No, I didn’t know. My congratulations.”—“The Four-B-four. Jewish affairs.” He had put his cap on my desk and was holding a black leather briefcase tightly on his knees; he pulled a case out of his tunic pocket, took out some large glasses, put them on, and opened the briefcase to extract a large envelope, quite thick, which he gave me. “Here it is. Of course, I won’t ask you what it is.”—“Oh, I can tell you. They’re scores.”—“You’re a musician? Me too, a little bit. I play the violin.”—“Actually not. It was for someone else, but he’s dead now.” He took off his glasses: “Ah. I’m very sorry. This war is really terrible. Actually,” he went on, “your friend Dr. Lulley also gave me a small bill, for the shipping costs.”—“No problem. I’ll send you some money this evening. Where are you staying?”—“With the Reichsführer’s staff.”—“Fine. Thank you very much for the favor. It was very kind of you.”—“Oh, it was nothing. We SS men have to help each other out. I’m just sorry it arrived too late.” I shrugged: “That’s how it is. Can I pour you a drink?”—“Oh, I shouldn’t. Work, you know. But…” He seemed sorry and I took the bait: “In the last war, they used to say Krieg ist Krieg…” He finished the sentence with me: “…und Schnaps ist Schnaps. Yes, I know. A very little one, then.” I opened my safe and took out two glasses and the bottle I kept for my guests. Eichmann got up to offer the toast, ceremoniously: “To the health of our Führer!” We clinked glasses. I saw he still wanted to talk. “So what was in your report, then?…If it isn’t a secret.”—“Well, it’s all very hush-hush, as the English say. But I can tell you. The Gruppenführer and myself were sent here by the Chief”—he meant Heydrich, now stationed in Prague as Assistant Reichsprotektor—“to discuss with the Reichsführer the plan for the evacuation of the Jews from the Reich.”—“Evacuation?”—“Exactly. To the East. By the end of the year.”—“All of them?”—“All of them.”—“And where will they be sent?”—“Most of them to the Ostland, probably. And down South too, for the construction of the Durchgangstrasse Four. It hasn’t yet been settled.”—“I see. And your report?”—“A statistical summary. I presented it in person to the Reichsführer. On the global situation regarding Jewish emigration.” He raised a finger. “Do you know how many there are?”—“Of what?”—“Of Jews. In Europe.” I shook my head: “No idea.”—“Eleven million! Eleven million, can you believe it? Of course, for the countries we don’t control yet, like England, the numbers are approximate. Since they don’t have any racial laws, we had to base our figures on religious criteria. But still that gives a rough estimate. Here in the Ukraine alone you have almost three million.” He took on a more pedantic tone: “Two million nine hundred ninety-four thousand six hundred and eighty-four, to be exact.”—“That is exact. But tell me, with one Einsatzgruppe we won’t be able to do much.”—“Precisely. Other methods are being studied.” He looked at his watch and got up. “You’ll have to excuse me now. I have to go back and find my Amtschef. Thank you for the drink.”—“Thank you for the package! I’ll send you the money for Lulley right away.” Together, we raised our arms and bellowed, “Heil Hitler!”