Nuremberg, Germany
Night of the Broken Glass
November 9, 1938
Team B! Follow me! Let’s go! Move it! Move
it!”
Apparently relishing his appointment as commando leader, twenty-five-year-old Wilhelm Brandt assumed the role of drill sergeant, motioning his four subordinates into the back of a small troop transport truck just outside the beer hall.
Heinrick hopped into the back and sat on one of two wooden benches which had been bolted to the bed of the truck. Several dozen bricks and stones were stashed on the floor along with six military rifles. Heinrick also noticed about twenty aluminum containers, each filled with two gallons of gasoline.
“Men, smear shoe polish on your faces,” Brandt barked orders as the truck rolled off. “I want no one seen. It is now 7 p.m. We are rolling on schedule. Estimated time to first target, fifteen minutes.”
Almost immediately, Heinrick and his buddies were black from head to toe. Only the whites of their eyes gleamed in the dark.
“I have orders from the commandant. We will hit three banks, a house, and a synagogue. You will divide into teams of two. Schultz and Schroeder are together. Kleinschmit and Heidelmann are also together. I will remain with the driver to defend the truck if attacked.”
“Kleinschmit and Heidelmann will hit three Jewish banks. These banks have been involved in financing subversive activities. They are the Schwartz Brothers Bank, Silverstein Bank, and Bank of Rothschild. They are all located in the Jewish financial district on Heidelberg. As you attack, one of you hurls stones at the property while your partner covers with his weapon in case there is a need for deadly force. Decide amongst yourselves who does what. Just get the job done. Questions?”
“Nein,” they all said in unison.
“Very well. Halt the truck.”
“Kleinschmit, Heidelmann, we will drop you here and rendezvous in one hour. Be swift, and Godspeed.”
As Kleinschmidt and Heidelmann rolled out the back, Brandt turned to Lars and Heinrick.
“Schroeder and Schultz, your job is most crucial. You will first attack the residence of a Jewish diamond merchant. Then we move to the most important part of tonight’s operations.”
“What is that?” Heinrick asked.
“See the gasoline?”
“Ja.”
“We will burn the temple the commandant referred to. I will provide more details after the first attack.”
The truck pulled to a halt. Heinrick felt a rush of adrenaline.
“We are here. Schultz and Schroeder, your target is 114 Regenbogen Straße. Cut straight through this wooded field to the right of the truck. You will find a small path between the trees. It is about one hundred meters to the other side. Be swift.”
Heinrick and Schroeder hopped out the back and moved through the dark wooded lot to stake out a position just outside the house. Each man carried a rifle and a black satchel with bricks and stones.
Crouching down behind a tree on the perimeter of the front yard, Heinrick and Schroeder scoped the outline of the large house against the stars. No lights were on. No one appeared to be home.
“You go, and I’ll cover you,” Heinrick said.
“Okay, we’ll switch next time.”
Heinrick cocked the Mauser as Schroeder sprinted across the yard, his black silhouette blending into the night and out of sight. Heinrick strained to see his accomplice to no avail.
A minute passed. Each additional second dragged into a seeming eternity as he waited, his rifle pointed in the direction of the house.
The loud sound of shattering glass broke the eerie silence. The smashing sound reverberated through the woods. Heinrick cringed. His heart raced. Then came another crashing sound, followed by a third. Quick footsteps approached through the darkness. He aimed the rifle toward the sound.
“Run, Schultz!” Schroeder shouted. “Run! Keep us covered!”
As Schroeder bolted past him running back through the woods, Heinrick fell in behind, his rifle strapped over his shoulder.
“Schroeder, Schultz,” Brandt’s voice came from the darkness as they neared the vehicle. “This way. Mach schnell. Hurry up.”
Breaking through the woods, they turned right and followed Brandt’s orders.
“Let’s go! In the truck.”
Panting and out of breath, the duo tumbled into the back of the truck as it sped off.
“Did you accomplish your mission, gentlemen?”
“Ja.” Schroeder responded.
“Were you spotted or followed?”
“Nein,” Heinrick answered. “No one home.”
“Very well. Then listen carefully. Our next mission is most dangerous. We will attack the house and the Temple Beth El across the street. We expect the house to be occupied. It is the home of Rabbi Judah Goldstein and his swine family. Goldstein has been spreading Zionist propaganda subversive to the Reich. The flames may bring out active Jewish resistance. Be prepared to shoot if necessary.”
Brandt took a swig from his canteen.
“Schultz. Your job is the house. Schroeder, you gas the temple. I will cover you both, and the driver will also provide armed backup. We shoot to kill if the Jewish pigs interfere. But our timing must be synchronized for maximum effectiveness. Neither of you acts until my order. Understand?”
“Ja,” Schroeder responded.
“What about you, Schultz? Are my orders clear?”
Heinrick hesitated. He had privately hoped for passive rifle duty again. Stoning someone’s house did not sit well with him, not even the house of a Jew. But if this would deter more assassinations and if the Führer had ordered it, so be it.
“Of course. I am ready to act.”
“Very well. We arrive in five minutes.”
The truck stopped on the street between the rabbi’s house and the temple. Lights inside the house revealed people stirring behind the large front window. They appeared to be having a late dinner. Across the street, the dark temple was barely visible.
“Schultz, stay here. Wait for my order. Cover us with your rifle. I will be back.”
Heinrick waited while Brandt, Schroeder, and the driver each lugged several gallons of gasoline from the truck to the synagogue.
As he waited alone, every sound seemed amplified. In the eerie silence of the night, he heard a rustling sound coming from the ditch about twenty feet behind the truck. He cocked and pointed his Mauser toward the sound, uncertain of its source. His hands shook, and with his finger on the trigger he aimed at the noise.
The rustling from the ditch continued. Someone was moving in the leaves. Heinrick thought about signaling for help, but doing so might give away his position. He considered abandoning his post, but that would be treason. The dark night was his ally. He held his position.
The noise grew closer. He had to try something. But firing his Mauser without an identifiable target would be foolish. If he were wrong, the gunshots would foil the operation.
He let go of the trigger and reached for a brick. He would smoke these Jews out so he could get a clean shot. As the rustling sound got closer, he hurled the brick in the direction of the noise. A screeching sound came from the ditch. Heinrick prepared to fire.
Two black cats scampered out of the ditch and ran across the street just behind the truck. He took a deep breath. Heinrick hated cats, but never had he been so relieved to see one.
How sounds in the dark play tricks on the mind.
“What was that?” Brandt whispered as the trio returned for more gasoline.
“Nothing. Just some cats playing in the ditch,” Heinrick whispered back.
Heinrick watched as Brandt, Schroeder, and the driver grabbed more gallons of gasoline and headed back across the street toward the temple. Though it was hard to see well, his eyes had by this time grown accustomed to the dark. The silhouettes of the three Nazi commandos drenched the base of the white wooden building with petrol.
A moment later, Brandt returned with instructions.
“Listen, Schultz. We soaked the target around the foundation. The temple will explode once Schroeder lights the match. But for maximum psychological impact, our timing is crucial. The Zionist rabbi must witness his kingdom engulfed in flames just as soon as the bricks fly through his front window. No delay. Understand me? No delay.”
“Ja.”
“Schroeder will torch the place, and the second you see the flames you throw the bricks. Is that clear?”
“Very clear.”
“On my command, you will charge toward that large front window and send three bricks into the dining room. Understood?”
“I understand, Brandt.”
“Oh, and Schultz. There’s one other thing.”
“What is that?”
“We will be right behind you with our rifles aimed and ready to fire. Don’t fail to act.”
Heinrick did not respond. He wasn’t sure if the last comment was a threat to shoot him if he failed to carry out the mission or a promise of protection if the Jews retaliated.
Brandt looked down at his watch. “Be ready, Schultz. Ten seconds. On my count.”
Heinrick’s heart raced. His breathing grew heavy. This was his first military operation on behalf of the Reich.
The sudden burst of heat from the fire warmed the back of his neck. In a perverse way, in a perverse instant, the heat felt comforting against the cold night air.
The crackling, popping sounds behind him were the sounds of a raging fire, a fire consuming wood at a blistering pace. The reflection of the angry flames off the window of the house showed the fire dancing off the white wooden synagogue like a thousand little demons, then lapping into the night sky like a burning tower.
Heinrick did not turn around. He kept his eyes fixed on his target, on the window. Then the sound of Brandt’s voice bellowed from behind. “Five, four, three, two, one. Now, Schultz. Go! Go! Go!”
He sprinted in a crouched position toward the large pane-glass window, ducking under some shrubbery about ten feet to the right. He reached into his sack and grabbed the first brick. Closing his eyes, he hurled it toward the center of the large pane window. The earsplitting sound of shattering glass broke the calm night. He unloaded his second brick and then his third.
A blood-curdling scream arose from the house. A woman’s voice! As the explosion of heat and flames warmed his back, his curiosity drew him toward the shrubs outside the broken window.
“Schultz. Let’s go!”
He heard Brandt’s call, but he had to see what the screaming was about. He peeked over the bushes and looked inside the window.
A young man and a woman sat on the floor sobbing. They were looking down at something, but he could not tell what. Maybe he had broken some valuable china or crystal with the brick. Jews would be upset over the destruction of such valuable property. After all, they loved money more than life.
He raised his head a little higher over the bushes, straining to see what the fuss was about. From this angle, he saw some locks of curly, red hair on the woman’s knee. He moved closer, angling for a better look.
A little girl rested in the woman’s lap. Her head gushed with blood. She must have been struck by one of the bricks. She looked about seven years old, the same age of his eldest daughter, Leisel. Her face appeared ghostly white. She looked unconscious—perhaps dead.
Heinrick wanted to vomit. He felt himself heaving but could not throw up. How could he have committed such an act? He only intended to smash glass—not hurt anyone—especially not a little girl.
He stood just a few feet outside the window, peering in at what he had done.
The flames from the synagogue lapped the sky behind him. The heat intensified. He felt like the Gates of Hell were closing in on his back.
“Move, Schultz. Let’s get out of here!”
Heinrick froze. As the heat and flames intensified, the man in the window looked up. His eyes locked with Heinrick’s, the fury of his gaze boring into Heinrick’s soul. The man bolted out the front door with a knife in his hand.
“Move it, Schultz! Now!” Brandt commanded.
But Heinrick stood frozen. The rabbi charged him with the knife raised over his head. In a fleeting millisecond, Heinrick decided this was his deserved fate for killing the girl with the curly, red locks.
The sharp sound of a rifle cracked the night air and broke Heinrick from his trance. The rabbi bent over. Brandt yelled again.
“Move now, Schultz, or we shoot you too!”
Blam!
The rabbi flinched again. A second shot had been fired for good measure. He tumbled to the ground, lifeless, as the shot echoed off the burning building. His instinct taking over, Heinrick turned and sprinted to the truck silhouetted by the blinding flames of the synagogue burning in the night. He glanced back over his shoulder before he jumped in.
The woman, her white dress soaked in front with her daughter’s blood, had rushed into the front yard and crouched over her husband. As the truck engine revved, the woman looked up at Heinrick and his cohorts. With the flames illuminating her, she stood and started running toward them.
The truck screeched off, and as the distance and darkness separated them from the woman, her screams faded.
The truck disappeared around a bend in the road, leaving the woman out of sight.
“Shake it off, Schultz.”
Showing no remorse for firing two rounds into the rabbi’s stomach, Wilhelm Brandt tried giving Heinrick a pep talk as the transport truck sped back to the beer hall.
“Look. There will be civilian casualties in war. That’s going to happen. That Jew girl was in the way. Remember who started this. The Jews started this fight by murdering our ambassador. The girl’s blood is on their hands, not yours. You did your duty.”
“I know, Brandt. But we technically aren’t at war yet.”
“What do you mean, not at war? The Jews murdered our ambassador in cold blood! They started this. Not us!”
“But our duty wasn’t to attack a girl. We were ordered to attack only property. You heard the commandant. We could be shot for this.”
“Shot? Are you crazy, Schultz? We will be commended for this. Besides, we were authorized to use deadly force to defend ourselves.”
“Ja. But the girl was not a target for deadly force under our rules of engagement.”
“You weren’t using deadly force, Schultz. You didn’t fire your gun into the house. You did what you were ordered to do. You just threw some stones. That’s not using deadly force. Besides, you don’t know that the girl is dead, and you don’t even know that your brick struck her, for that matter.”
Heinrick paused for a moment. Brandt had a point. Perhaps the girl was only shaken up.
“No, but I know that the rabbi is probably dead.”
“So what? I fired my weapon to prevent you from getting stabbed in the heart. And if you’d moved out when I ordered you too, we would have evacuated before I had to shoot the guy. But you froze, he came out with the knife, and I had no choice.”
Heinrick paused for a moment. Brandt took another swig from his canteen and continued his lecture.
“Besides, Schultz. The last thing you want is for the commandant or higher Party officials to think you are soft on the ‘Jewish Question,’ right? With this line of talk, they’ll think just that.”
This time, Brandt paused and reached for something under the bench. Heinrick cringed, thinking the Nazi team leader may be grabbing for a handgun to put a final end to the discussion. He breathed a sigh of relief when the “handgun” turned out to be a bottle of beer which had been stored for celebratory toasting of the mission’s success.
Brandt tossed the bottle over to Heinrick. Then he grabbed another bottle and popped the top off.
“Look, Schultz. It’s time to celebrate. We’ve carried out our duty. Now, you and I go back a long way in the factory. We are about to move into an elite class as dependable Party operatives. It would do no one any good and it would change nothing for you to continue this type of indecisive talk. Tell you what I will do. If you drop the matter, my lips are sealed. Ja?”
Brandt’s points resonated with Heinrick. Had he not frozen, had he just run back to the truck when ordered, maybe the rabbi would be alive. Maybe he was responsible, not just for one death, but two. Heinrick felt sick. These were unarmed citizens, not invading Allied soldiers. But what was done was done. No point belaboring it.
Plus, an official inquiry could reveal that Heinrick had not followed orders or that Brandt had fired unnecessarily. Perhaps the former explanation would prevail, that his own failure to evacuate in a timely manner led to the shooting. But Brandt could be disciplined for not controlling his subordinates. Thus, either of them could be punished. Better to keep quiet.
Heinrick’s sense of self preservation kicked in. “Okay, Brandt. You’re right. We just followed orders. If anybody asks, the guy rushed out with a knife trying to attack us while we were fleeing the scene. No more discussion from me.”
“Good. I thought you would see it my way. Then let’s toast our victory and toast the beginning of our glorious new career. Feiern, wir Schultz! Prost!”
Heinrick raised his beer for the celebratory toast Brandt had suggested. Their bottles clanked in triumph of a successful mission. Plastering a fake smile on his face, he guzzled the beer, trying to drown the image of the little girl with the red, curly locks.