‘Were there kind SS soldiers?’

I never met an SS soldier who was kind. At best, our guards were completely uninterested. They were simply doing their job, and if the job called for a beating they would use their truncheons. Some were known for being particularly mean, some were ‘just’ mean, and any of them could strike you for no reason. You could not say that I experienced any real kindness. The SS soldiers were trained to be brutal and cold.

In Himmler’s infamous and often-quoted speech, he praises the brutality of those who shot Jews: ‘To have endured this and remained decent, that has made us hard. This is a glorious page in our history …’ In his 1926 book Die zweite revolution Goebbels said: ‘We will only reach our goal when we are brave enough to laugh as we destroy and ruin that which was once holy to us, such as tradition, education, friendship, and human affection.’

Those who worked in the SS — like all of us — had both good and evil inside them, but they chose evil. Afterwards, many argued that they only fired shots because they had to. However, research has shown that this was not always the case. In his book Ordinary Men, the historian Christopher Browning has pointed out that only a few fell out of line despite being told that they would be excused if their conscience would not allow them to kill. Instead of choosing for themselves, the men gave in to peer pressure. Likewise, decent Germans also chose evil under certain circumstances. We all have a choice.

Our guards were young SS soldiers, men and women who had sworn a solemn oath to dutifully obey and protect the Führer, to live and die for him. Their Nazi upbringing began at an early age, when they were at their most malleable. On a few occasions, the guards were from the Wehrmacht. These were soldiers from the regular army, older men who had been drafted. There was a big difference between the two groups; the latter were gentler, their minds had not yet been brainwashed.

One day as we were walking to our work site, we were not accompanied by young SS soldiers with truncheons, but by soldiers from the Wehrmacht who carried rifles over their backs. It was the first and only time that the guards spoke with us, not simply barking their commands at us. One of these soldiers, Herman, seemed curious, and since I was one of the few who spoke German he walked by my side as we marched in rows of five. He started talking to me, asking me who I was and where I came from. He told me a little about some of his own difficulties at home. It turned out that he had a daughter who was my age, and perhaps that is why he sought me out on those few occasions when the Wehrmacht stayed at the camp. Sometimes he brought me an apple, or a potato. But they had little food, too. His friendly spirit was a ray of sunshine in the darkness that enveloped me. It only lasted for a very brief time, however. Soon, the regular SS lads were back, those who hit us without mercy if someone dropped behind or fell out of line.

Sometimes, we passed by fields where vegetables had recently been harvested: Brussels sprouts, broccoli, and more. Whenever we saw a few stalks still shooting up through the mud, we rushed over to pull them up, despite the risk of getting a beating. It meant a precious addition to that day’s poor ration. Especially for the sick girls, who still dragged themselves off to work.

Elisabet, a beautiful Hungarian-Jewish girl, became very ill, lost consciousness, and was taken to the infirmary. The next day, the SS doctor came by, stopped by every sickbed, and let the nurse know his verdict with a nod of his head. At Elisabet’s bed, he asked about her illness. He addressed her kindly with the words, ‘And you, young girl, what ails you?’

She answered: ‘I ache all over, but I’m not so young, I have already studied medicine.’

The SS doctor then gave the order that she should be taken to another barracks, and there she actually returned to health.

The same person who felt no pangs of conscience when sending someone to their death saved another’s life. We sometimes meet this same duplicity in the rest of society.

Another day, my friend Lilly fell unconscious, and to our great sorrow she was taken to the Revier. When the days went by and she did not return, we thought we would never see her again. But all of a sudden, she was standing there during Zählappell, the prisoner count.

When we asked what had happened, she said that she had vague memories of being hidden in some cubbyhole every time an SS doctor came by for a check-up. The staff in the Revier were our fellow prisoners, and SS cruelties could sometimes be balanced out by solidarity.

Sara, one of my fellow prisoners from Poland, told me that before her internment she had hidden in a place she believed to be safe. However, she had to initiate someone into her plans so that her husband could find her. She chose their neighbour N, who had always been kind to them. The next day, the police came for her, and that is when she understood that the neighbour’s kindness had its limits.

Today, I often think about how I would have acted if I, born in 1924 in Sighet, had seen the light of day as a German child in Berlin instead. I, too, would surely have received my share of brainwashing in Bund Deutscher Mädel, the association for girls that corresponded to the boys’ Hitlerjugend.

Perhaps I would have become a female SS guard. They were no better than the male ones. How would I have acted? Would I have beaten the prisoners? Saved them? If I had parents with a moral strength whose upbringing could have counteracted BDM, perhaps I would have shown mercy. One can only hope. If a person knows that she has a choice, there is an opportunity to choose good over evil.

I can, however, tell you how 12-year-old Noa reacted. He lived in a ghetto in Poland, where hunger was spreading. Everyone was trying to find something to eat, through either bartering or theft. The children were the most skilful. They snuck out of the ghetto with something they could trade for food. They often managed to return with some potatoes or turnips.

One day, Noa was caught by an SS man who wanted to know who the brains behind these ‘outings’ was. Noa refused to answer the question. The SS man tempted him by saying that he would get to keep the potato, and get another one, and that he would be appointed to the ghetto police. The ghetto police received extra benefits and, relatively, plenty of food, while the ghetto inhabitants starved. Noa steadfastly refused to become the SS man’s informant, even though he knew that he would be beaten for his insubordination.