I should like to add that my efforts to protect Jewish
and politically persecuted persons were the reason why I pretended
that I wished to carry out these business deals.
KURT BECHER, TESTIFYING FOR THE TRIAL OF ADOLF EICHMANN
A company of men passed…
I ran to see, are you amongst the men?
You wore prisoner's stripes and a prisoner cap,
Easy to recognize, you looked like your old self.
I, with boundless joy,
Arms raised called out to you
Father, Apukam, look at me, here I am.
You looked at me puzzled,
Questions rose in your eyes,
I did not know why, I did not see myself.
A crazy woman waving,
Hairless and in rags…
BABA SCHWARTZ, SPEAKING TO HER MURDERED FATHER ON THE
SIXTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF THE LIBERATION OF AUSCHWITZ
KURT BECHER and Rezső Kasztner arrived at Bregenz, Austria, where Hermann Krumey was waiting for them at the hotel. It was not until then that Krumey told Kasztner about Eichmann's orders to reduce his first group to leave Bergen-Belsen to just 300 people, now expanded by Krumey to 318. Kasztner knew, then, that his own family would not have been chosen; Eichmann would keep them as long as he could as a bargaining tool.
The three men traveled to the Swiss border near the Austrian town of Höchst with an armed SS driver and Becher's aide, Hauptsturmführer Max Grüson. They had planned to cross into Switzerland over the Saint Margarethen Bridge, which spans the Rhine Canal between Austria and Switzerland. It was a warm, rainy day in August. Becher wore a bulky black raincoat and dark civilian clothes and stood waiting at the Austrian end. Saly Mayer, a short, balding man in his early sixties, approached to the middle of the bridge and waited there for the German party to come closer. Under his Burberry raincoat, he was wearing dark-blue pants and a sport jacket with a tidy white handkerchief poking out of its upper left pocket. He looked as though he was expecting a casual invitation to cocktails rather than an SS officer with a life-saving proposition. Mayer, as it turned out, had not obtained Swiss visas for the Germans, so Becher and Krumey moved to the midway point with Kasztner but could not cross to the other side.
On the surface, it would be difficult to imagine two more unlikely negotiating partners than Mayer and Becher. Mayer had been a very successful businessman, a lace manufacturer with political ambitions, and he was also the former head of the Association of Swiss Jews. He had retired early from the association amid accusations that he had too easily accepted Swiss restrictions against Jewish refugees.1 In June 1940 he was appointed as the local representative of the Joint, and he had then been chosen to negotiate with the SS because, as a Swiss citizen, he was not tied to rules governing the actions of Americans. He was set in his ways and conservative in his outlook.
Becher, in contrast, was on the cusp of an outstanding business career—at the moment, it was in trading goods for lives. He had received the entire amount for the Bergen-Belsen transport, yet he still had the majority of its members in the Reich. He had been praised by his chief, Heinrich Himmler, and he was sure he could deliver additional war materials to earn even further promotions. He knew that Himmler had great hopes for this meeting, and that his task included finding a way to make direct contact with the Americans.
Both men were clever negotiators, with supreme confidence in their own abilities. On this occasion, however, neither had much to offer: Mayer had no trucks, and Becher did not have a million Jews left to trade. Nevertheless, both were determined to appear as though they had been dealt a winning hand.
They stood halfway across the bridge, each on his side of the border. Mayer refused to enter the Reich, stating explicitly, “My feet would not touch such soil.” Nor could he allow the Germans to enter Switzerland, saying, “I am a Swiss citizen and we are a neutral country.”
Kasztner was appalled. It had been months since Joel Brand had, presumably, explained what was at stake. Kasztner had sent at least a hundred cables and several coded letters, yet the Joint and the Jewish Agency seemed unable to grasp the seriousness of the situation, the deadly consequences of being rude to a man who held lives in his hands.
Becher introduced himself as Himmler's personal representative. He then made it clear that the survival of the Hungarian Jews depended on how great a sacrifice World Jewry was willing to make.
Mayer replied that he was not empowered to negotiate on behalf of World Jewry, but he was willing to listen, “as a private Swiss citizen,” to any proposition that could save lives. He would take these proposals to the American Joint Distribution Committee, provided the Germans stopped deportations and blew up the gas chambers immediately.
“I shall report this to the Reichsführer,” Becher replied, with icy politeness. “However, we have already shown our goodwill by letting 318 Jews out of Bergen-Belsen. What do you have to offer in return?”
Mayer mentioned humanitarian considerations. Becher was not interested. It seemed to Kasztner that Mayer was unaware that all he had to do was to pretend he had been contemplating, reviewing, and discussing the German deal with his colleagues in the United States or Palestine or Great Britain or anywhere that sounded halfway impressive. He should have been trying to convince Becher that the British press, with its “Monstrous Offer” headlines, did not speak for the Americans and that Brand was in high-level talks with somebody.
Kasztner could barely control his impatience. He kept interrupting to remind Mayer that the meeting had been instigated by the Joint and that the American War Refugee Board was in favor of supplying the goods requested. He would have settled for mentions of coffee or sugar, or even a truckload of cigarettes, but Mayer offered nothing. Kasztner was unaware, of course, that Mayer's instructions were to negotiate but to promise nothing.2 Even his being there was risky.
Mayer asked if the Germans would consider currency instead of merchandise. He explained that it would be difficult for him to send “war materials” across the Swiss border in times of war.
“No,” Becher replied. They had made their terms clear to Joel Brand and Rezső Kasztner, and he saw no reason to waver. In the end, of course, he did.
Kasztner was deeply disappointed in Mayer's inability to offer anything the Germans wanted. He felt let down by the Jewish Agency and the Joint, convinced that they had sent the wrong man to negotiate, that they had failed to understand how high the stakes were at that ill-prepared-for meeting on the bridge. When he was given permission to speak with Mayer alone, he said that Eichmann's SS faction was impatient to continue the extermination of the Jews even if Germany was losing the war. Their only hope now lay in some kind of bargain with Himmler's “faction,” who “do not oppose the release of Jews if they can obtain goods of value to the Reich.”3
Mayer was equally impatient with the insistent Kasztner. His own instructions were clear: he was not to promise anything to the Germans. Yet he was here, on his own, on a wet day, in the middle of a bridge, in no-man’s-land, shaking hands with the devil, playing for time. He had withheld any indication that he represented no government, not even an organization like the Joint. The Joint, in fact, was expressly forbidden to deal with the enemy. He did not reveal that he had seen the orders signed by the U.S. secretary of state confirming that the United States “cannot enter into or authorize ransom transactions,” and that “Saly Mayer should participate only as a Swiss citizen and not (repeat: not) as a representative of any American organization.” Mayer knew that the Germans would not agree to meet a Swiss citizen who lacked the authorization of either the U.S. government or the Joint, so he continued to play the part of a real representative. However, all he had to offer were words.
When it appeared that the meeting was coming to an end without results, Mayer suggested they set a time for a week later, after each of them had consulted his superiors.
ONCE THEY HAD crossed the Swiss border, the 318 passengers from the Kasztner train were offered hot showers, chocolates, warm milk for the children, and a dinner of rice pudding. They traveled by bus to Basel, where they were examined by doctors and given a grand meal of potatoes and chicken in the Mustermesse. Everyone spent the night in agony, vomiting—they were no longer used to food fit for humans.4 Two days later they were moved to the picturesque Caux-sur-Montreux overlooking Lake Geneva. The Orthodox were given rooms in the Regina Hotel,5 and the rest of the group were housed in the Bellevue and Caux Palace. They were able to read their first newspapers in a long time and hear the first broadcasts about the true state of the war. Some began to make plans for a quick return to their Hungarian homes, some filled out application forms for their departure for Palestine, and others tried to reach friends and relations in other countries, hoping for entry visas now that the war seemed to be near its end. In József Fischer's absence, they elected Kasztner's old law-school friend Dezsö Hermann as leader.
After two weeks of rest, the Munk family left their hotel and rented more appealing premises in Zurich. They had had enough of communal living.
BECHER AND Kasztner returned to Budapest, angry and afraid. Kasztner was terrified that his wife and the remaining Bergen-Belsen hostages would be transferred to Auschwitz. Becher was furious with Kasztner. He had, obviously, not briefed his associates about the seriousness of a senior SS officer traveling to negotiate with a bunch of Jews who had not even bothered to provide a suitable reception. He was afraid for his position as Himmler's man of choice for the negotiations and even worried about his own life. The meeting with Mayer had been his idea. The SS Reichsführer would be enraged about this failure, particularly now that the enemy was advancing steadily on the Reich from both west and east—the Americans were about to enter Paris, and the Soviet army had already arrived in Romania. The Ploesti oil fields that had fueled the German armies in the east would be under enemy control. The Bulgarians had announced their desire to withdraw from the war, and the Finns, never an enthusiastic ally of Germany against the Soviet Union, were becoming surly. The rats were not only abandoning the ship but turning on the sailors.
On August 23 the Wehrmacht lost the battle for Romania at the cost of 380,000 soldiers. King Michael immediately had the violently anti-Semitic and pro-Nazi Ion Antonescu arrested and replaced his government with one that did not support the Germans. In response, the Luftwaffe bombed the Royal Palace in Bucharest. Romania eagerly joined the war against its former allies, just as it had done at the end of the First World War. Now, as before, its immediate priority was to invade Transylvania and try to wrest it away from the Hungarians. Romania signed an armistice with the Soviets and, thereby, sealed Hungary's fate. Hungary was now the frontline.
Two days later, General Charles de Gaulle, chief of the Free French armies, walked down the Champs Élysées to the sound of church bells ringing and wild cheering from the crowds. The French Resistance had risen against the German occupation and, in close coordination with both the Americans and General Philippe Leclerc's French armored division, it took back the City of Light from the German occupying forces.
Somewhere on the road toward Vienna, Becher decided not to tell Himmler the truth. His August 25 wire to his chief reports that the release of the 318 Jews from Bergen-Belsen had convinced the Americans of the seriousness of the Germans’ willingness to negotiate, and he recommended that they should accept alternative products such as raw materials (chromium, nickel, aluminum) in place of the trucks they had originally demanded. He emphasized that if the deportations from Hungary continued, the Jewish leaders would break off discussions, and he humbly requested Himmler's permission to continue with his mission to wrest material rewards for the Reich.
On August 29, Regent Horthy appointed General Géza Lakatos prime minister of Hungary to replace the discredited Döme Sztójay. He also sent word to Edmund Veesenmayer that he had decided there would be no more deportations, at least for now.
At 3 AM, a cable arrived from Berlin for Becher. Himmler approved the suspension of deportations and authorized Becher to continue his negotiations. It seemed that the SS Reichsführer was more interested in keeping Hungary onside than in pursuing his original plan of “cleansing” the country. Besides, by the end of August 1944 the German armies had lost half a million men and most of their tanks in the west. Himmler had been thinking about finding an acceptable way out of the war.
ONCE BACK in his office in Budapest, Kasztner was astonished to learn from Dieter Wisliceny that Eichmann and his unit had been ordered out of Hungary. “You have won,” the Nazi officer told him. “The Sonderkommando is leaving.”6
For a while, Eichmann remained hopeful that the orders were temporary. He sent Wisliceny back to Berlin to see if Himmler would change his mind, and, if not, whether his orders might be overruled by Hitler. But Himmler wouldn’t even see Wisliceny, and the Führer was preoccupied with war business. Eichmann, furious at Becher's soft technique and Himmler's vacillations, retired to sulk at his estate near Linz in Austria. To compensate him for the disappointment, Himmler later awarded him an Iron Cross–Second Class.
Kasztner, unlike members of the Jewish Council, had no faith in Horthy's protestations that he had been duped into allowing deportations in the first place and even less faith in Himmler's change of heart. Increasingly, he began to rely on Becher's fear of his superiors while they were still in power and the lieutenant-colonel's anxiety about retribution once they were gone. Kasztner cabled Saly Mayer that the second meeting had to be arranged immediately and that Mayer must come with something concrete to offer Becher, perhaps gasoline or engine parts—something the Germans needed but, of course, would never get because the war would be over before the Joint had to deliver on its promises. The telephone lines to Switzerland were broken now, so Becher arranged for Kasztner to travel to Bratislava to make a call to Mayer to finalize the arrangements.
During the phone conversation, Kasztner told Mayer bluntly that his failure to arrange some plan as a basis for negotiation might be construed later as his participating in the murder of Hungarian Jewry. “It's easy for Mayer to express his loathing for the Nazis,” he wrote in his diary. “They [the Joint] are on the outside, we are on the inside. They moralize, we fear death. They are sympathetic but believe themselves to be powerless. We want to live and therefore believe that rescue is possible.”7 He told Hansi that “the next meeting at the Swiss border cannot be another fiasco.”
While he was in Bratislava, Kasztner visited Gizi Fleischmann, who asked him not to forget the Slovak Jews if he made a deal with the Joint. Their situation had not changed since Wisliceny stopped the deportations,8 but she was afraid that the Germans would begin the roundups again with a vengeance once the Soviet armies neared their borders. She confided that her own experiences had convinced her that Mayer was the wrong man for these desperate negotiations. Their lives were hanging by the slender hook of hope for more cash to keep Wisliceny on their side.
Saly Mayer agreed to a meeting on September 3, but Becher refused to attend. He told Kasztner that he was not prepared to be humiliated by “that Jew” again and instead sent his aide Max Grüson, Hermann Krumey, William Billitz, the man who was now running the Weiss-Manfred conglomerate, and, of course, Kasztner. Mayer was accompanied by his lawyer, another dapper Swiss, by the name of Marcus Wyler-Schmidt.
Once again, the meeting was midway along the Saint Margarethen Bridge. This time, Mayer had a few more cards to play. He had been granted $2 million of bargaining money by the U.S. War Refugee Board, but it could not be used for ransom payments. He upped this to $5 million (the additional $3 million was entirely fictitious) and offered to deposit the amount in designated Swiss accounts. He said he would do his best to persuade the Swiss to allow the Germans to buy whatever they needed.9 As a further delaying technique, he told the delegation to return with a list of their likely requirements. His condition was that all the Jews under Nazi rule be kept alive. Having heard from Rabbi Dov Weissmandel, he was particularly concerned about the Slovak Jews.
Grüson said the SS always delivered on its promises. Deportations in Hungary had already ceased, and the first group of “Kasztner's Jews” had been handed across the Swiss border. World Jewry had not yet reciprocated. Joel Brand, who had been sent on an important mission, had vanished. Grüson pointed out that Mayer was only a middleman, a Swiss citizen who could not make deals on the spot. He was wasting their time. He demanded that, at the next meeting, Mayer bring along someone who had full authority to negotiate, so that the Germans would leave with a signed agreement.10
Mayer, it seemed to Kasztner, had nodded his assent.
The next night, back in Budapest, Hansi brought out a small bottle of old French brandy she had saved from before the war. Both of the dreaded state secretaries, László Baky and László Endre, had been discredited; Mayer was now talking about $5 million, and the deportations had ended. It was a hazy, hot, late-summer evening, with clouds of mosquitoes buzzing through the open window. They did not dare light a candle during the blackout, as they waited for the next bombardment to begin and the sirens to start. Then they would have to decide whether to go to the cellar or wait until it was over. In the end, they decided to stay in their room. They sat huddled over a meal of cold eggs and ersatz bacon and drank to the victory of the Allies and their own success. They were, finally, beginning to make a difference.