Chapter Fifteen: German Justice

In the summer of 1969, I received an invitation to appear before the German Consul in Montreal, which I accepted. After e changing some pleasantries, he explained the reason for this meeting. The judicial system in West Germany had apprehended the head of the Gestapo from my home town in Poland, where he was responsible for sending Jews to the gas chambers. The consul asked if I would be willing to give testimony relating to my experiences, with every detail, from the day the war broke out until the day I was liberated from the concentration camps.

After three hours of testimony, he asked his secretary to translate all my comments from English to German. While I was relating certain incidents that had transpired many years past, my stomach was churning and my blood pressure was rising. I felt very agitated and hyper. My mind was racing, but the words could not keep up with that speed, I frequently omitted words, and had to re-phrase some sentences in order to be properly understood.

To avoid misinterpretations or misconceptions, the consul asked the secretary to read my testimony back to me, so that I could make corrections where necessary, since I would have to sign this affidavit for authenticity.

At one particular point, while she was reading the part where my younger brother was beaten by an S.S. officer who was going to shoot him (he was saved through my and my older brother's intervention, (this incident is described in detail in my memoirs)). I started to feel uncomfortable - my stomach was tied in knots and I had the impression that what she was reading was not something that took place in the past, but was taking place at the moment. I woke up lying on a sofa, the consul standing near me saying that I had passed out momentarily and that we would not continue to read the testimony at the moment.

Three years later, I received a letter from the Ministry of Justice in Bonn, requesting that I submit my approval to appear as a witness in court in Hamburg, Germany. After giving this request much consideration, I decided not to appear, taking into consideration the affect of the traumatic feeling I experienced three years prior at the at the meeting in the German Consul's Office.

A short while later, I received another letter from Bonn, signed by the Minister of Justice, appealing to me to reconsider my previous decision. He explained that the German government was doing it's utmost to arrest ex Nazi Gestapo officers, and according to German law, they could be brought to trial only when there were witnesses in court to testify. In other words, a written affidavit was not sufficient. This was the reason why he was personally appealing to me to reconsider my previous decision, since there are a few people still alive to testify.

I did not sleep for several nights thinking and analyzing the pros and cons of this request. Finally I decided to go to Hamburg, I felt I owed this gesture to all those victims who could not be present at this trial, so it became my moral duty not to permit this Gestapo officer to go unpunished for the tens of thousands of my brethren he had sent to the gas chambers. I had to set aside my personal anguish and pain for the benefit of those who could not speak for themselves.

The court session started punctually at 9:00 a.m. In the court room was the accused man, dressed in civilian clothing, a man in his early seventies, tall, thin, with gray hair, barely the same person who had the power over Jewish lives thirty years prior. There were three judges and a jury of 12 men and women. On my left were two prosecutors and on my right were two defense lawyers. The presiding judge was leading the interrogation.

After establishing my identity to his satisfaction, he was leading into the crux of the matter concerned – "the last resettlement" (a euphemism for transporting Jews to the death camps) of about 1,500 people on January 13th 1943. Three other carpenters and I (none of the others survived), were escorted from the camp with step ladders and the tools to close off the window openings on the cattle cars with barbed wire. We were still working under the supervision of S.S. guards when the transport of the said Jews arrived, guarded by a detachment of S.S. and Ukrainians under the leadership of the accused - Untersturnf�hrer Weinrich.

Now just a brief description of the questions and answers in the court room:

Judge: What was the date of this resettlement?

Me: January 13, 1943

Judge: How sure are you that the date is correct?

Me: since the liberation, we survivors of the city of Radom, established this date as a day of commemoration.

After about one hour of questioning, such as - where I lived before the war, then to the ghetto, describing the living and working conditions, the judge returned to the question of the date again.

Judge: If you are so sure that this happened on January 13th, tell me what day in the week it was?

Me: I cannot recall exactly what day in the week it was, but of one thing I am certain, it was not a Sunday, because that was the only day we did not work.

Judge: How many cattle cars did we attach barbed wire to?

Me: Our task was not to count the cars since we were working under extreme pressure to complete the work as soon as possible.

Judge: How many people were loaded into each car?

Me: Being frequently whipped by the guards to execute our work faster, I had to concentrate on the work I had to do and not to count how many people were loaded into each car.

This type of questioning went on for several hours and I felt my patience running out. I had the impression that I was not a witness, but the accused. Then the judge returned to the question of the date again.

Judge: You seem to be certain that this happened on January 13th. Could you tell me what the weather was on that day?

I could not take this any longer and instead of replying to his question, I asked the judge "Your honour, maybe your memory is better than mine, so please tell me what you ate for supper two weeks ago on Friday?" judge sat upright in his chair, thus appearing taller, assuming the role of the "presiding" judge with full authority, his face turning purple, said "Mister Gutman, in this court I am the presiding judge. You are a witness, I ask the questions -- you reply. I am warning you for the last time, should this repeat itself, I shall disqualify you. Now I will repeat the question one more time and expect a reply."

I listened very carefully to the judge's rebuke. It had the effect of a cold shower that brought me back to my senses. I was thinking fast and decided not to give him the satisfaction of disqualifying me after going through so many hours of drilling. I calmed down and replied that I could not recall the exact weather conditions on that particular day. However, I did recall that it was very cold, and that my fingers were frozen, in particular on the left hand with which I had to pick up the U shaped hooks to nail down the barbed wire.

He then diverted the questioning into a different area -

Judge: Do you recall some of the officers' names attached to this concentration camp?

Me: Yes I do.

Since I was an inmate in this camp for several years, working in the carpentry shop, I frequently constructed wooden crates to pack the goods taken from the Jews who were sent to the death camps and painted the addresses of the officers' homes, many living in the city of Hamburg, Germany.

As I was recalling the names and their ranks, a woman from the jury stopped me, asking me to repeat a name I had just mentioned. Her face paled - the blood had drained from her body. I started to feel a queasiness in my stomach and started to fear for my life. This officer may be her husband, brother or father, who knows?

Towards the end of the court session, the presiding judge indicated that although I was definite that the date of this re-settlement took place January 13th, he would prove to the court that in my written testimony, given in Montreal, Canada, in 1969, had indicated the date of January 12th, and as such, my testimony was not valid, and I was being disqualified.

The judge asked me if I had anything to say. I said "yes if the judge could prove to the court and to me, that the affidavit he had in front of him had my signature affixed to it, then I would disqualify myself, saving him the trouble."

He then flipped the sheets to the last one, and to his amazement he could not find my signature. His face turned crimson, the only words he uttered were "the court is adjourned."

I was advised by the prosecutor to remain in Hamburg for several more days, just in case I be recalled. However, as soon as I got back to the hotel I called the airport and made reservations for the next flight to Paris.

The judge could not find my signature on the affidavit because I had passed out when the consul's secretary was reading my testimony back to me in Montreal, and the meeting was discontinued. It seemed to me that the secretary had made a typing error and nobody noticed it.

Several weeks later, I was notified that the Gestapo officer Weinrich was sentenced to seven years in prison.

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