The bureaucrats at Wannsee may have employed veiled language—perhaps the cruelest euphemisms in history—but the deportation process was open and visible enough to make it improbable that significant numbers of ordinary Berliners were unaware of the action, as many later claimed. Jewish citizens recalled their gentile neighbors observing the loading process from their houses and stores, and crowding around the stations to watch the transports depart. How then did the Berliners react to the horror that was transpiring under their noses? This of course is an integral part of the broader question of how “ordinary Germans” responded to the various stages of the Holocaust. The short answer is that in Berlin, as in other German cities, the majority of the people seem to have accepted this extraordinary development as if it were part of the natural order of events. Some actively welcomed the forced expulsion of a vilified minority, “gloating over the misery that had befallen their fellow citizens,” in the words of one witness. Others were ashamed of the deportations; and still others—perhaps as many as 30,000—tried to sabotage the process by hiding or otherwise helping their Jewish neighbors. (There is, alas, no monument in Berlin to this last group.) It is impossible to say exactly how many Berliners had clear knowledge of what was happening to the deportees once they arrived in the East, but by late 1942 accounts of mass killings, sent back by perpetrators and bystanders, were widely circulating in the city. Ruth Andreas-Friedrich wrote in her diary on December 2, 1942: “The Jews are disappearing in throngs. Ghastly rumors are current about the fate of the evacuees—mass shooting and death by starvation, tortures, and gassings.” Whatever their knowledge of the situation in the East, those Berliners who were disgusted by the sight of innocent people being dragged from their homes often felt powerless to help the afflicted, much less to thwart the process. At the very outset of the deportations, Ursula von Kardorff, a journalist at the
Shameful as the deportations may have seemed to some Berliners, the SS concluded by late 1942 that the Berlin Gestapo was not acting ruthlessly enough in the removal process. Thus the local officials in charge of the operation were replaced by a team from Vienna (recently declared “Jew-free”) under the leadership of Alois Brunner, a gnomish Austrian who was quite un-Austrian in his mania for efficiency. Brunner saw his job as showing “those damn Prussian pigs how to handle filthy Jews.” Soon capacious moving vans driven by members of Brunner’s
In autumn 1942 Jews working in Berlin’s vital war industries—some 20,000 of them as of November—were still kept off the deportation lists, but in December Brunner persuaded the Wehrmacht to allow the removal of these individuals if they could be replaced by Poles. On February 27, 1943, Brunner’s team and the Gestapo staged a
Since six o’clock this morning trucks have been driving through Berlin, escorted by armed SS men. They stop at factory gates, in front of private houses; they load in human cargo—men, women, children. Distracted faces are crowded together under the gray canvas covers. Figures of misery, penned in and jostled about like cattle going to the stockyards. More and more new ones arrive, and are thrust into the overcrowded trucks, with blows of gun butts. In six weeks Germany is to be ‘Jew-free.’