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CHAPTER X

WE VOTE FOR HITLER

OUR isolation from the outer world and our hunger for news were aggravated by the ban on visits and letters. We rang the changes on our one never-failing topic of conversation-"release." "Anything new?" was the first question put by the work squads on their return to camp in the evening, and in reply the prisoners of the indoor squads would regale us with the latest rumors. One man had picked up a tidbit in the office, another had heard a conversation between two officers, a third had positive information that the camp was soon to be broken up and its inmates removed to Dachau. We regarded any prospect of transfer with alarm, for all prisoners under "protective arrest," even though they had spent months in one or more camps, were forced to go through another hell of "coordination" and "examination" every time they were admitted to a new camp, each administration hoping to flog new confessions out of them.

Apart from the latrine rumors supplied by the indoor squads our chief source of information was the Hubertshof Observer, ten free copies of which were delivered to camp daily to furnish us with the official government news. A copy was allotted to each company to be shared by over a hundred prisoners.

We were adepts now in detecting the bald truth behind the bombastic declamations of the Nazi press. This organ of the ministry of propaganda published a series of articles about our camp describing it as a place which prisoners left with the utmost reluctance and tears in their eyes.

"Extra! Extra!" the news vendors started shouting one October evening. It must be an event of prodigious importance that would bring the Hubertshof Observer out with an extra edition. "Germany Withdraws from the League of Nations! The Leader Speaks to His People Tonight!"

Thc Black Shirts were jubilant. "Things'll start happening now!" The administration issued orders to have the Leader's speech broadcast throughout the camp through loudspeakers. Everyone, without exception, was to listen in.

Darkness had fallen when Schinderknecht blew the whistle which summoned us to the camp courtyard. The searchlights had been set up and the guard doubled. The Black Shirts, arrayed in their best uniforms, boots gleaming, revolvers at their belts, were drawn up on one side of the yard. As a hysterical roar in an Austrian dialect broke from the loudspeaker they burst into rapturous shouts of "Heil Hitler!" Massed darkly on the other side of the yard stood the workers, hatless, ragged, motionless. Impossible to fathom their thoughts. Impossible, that is, for the other side. But a wild joy thrilled that multitude--the German bourgeoisie had been driven a long step forward on the road to catastrophe. Not with impunity had they surrendered the power to an adventurer. Nazi Germany would have to pay for its political isolation.

November I2 had been set as the date on which new deputies were to be elected to the Reichstag and a vote of confidence taken by the German people in the foreign policy of the Hitler government. The opinion prevailed in camp that as prisoners under "protective arrest" we would be denied the right to vote. We gave no serious thought to our own part in the elections. It was not until November 10 that we learned from an SS-man in the Administration Building that several hundred ballots had been received for the prisoners. That same evening the commandant made a political speech--the first and last I ever heard at camp.

He tried sweetness and light. "I know," he said, "that most of you are decent fellows who have fought honestly for a better Germany. But you've been the victims of irresponsible elements, Jews and Marxians. The minute the fat was in the fire those cowards who led you astray made off as fast as their legs could carry them; and now, being safely abroad, they combine to vomit their venom over our Fatherland and our Leader. And it's you who have to pay for their crimes. You can't run off to Paris or Prague or Moscow like those gentlemen who are always provided with foreign visas and well-stuffed wallets. Your families are in need. You've been sold out and betrayed. Now the National-Socialist government is giving you the chance to repudiate these criminals and find your way back to our people. Acknowledge National-Socialist Germany, acknowledge Adolf Hitler, the worker. Then he will acknowledge you too, and clear the way for you to a new existence."

He climbed off the chair, certain of the effect he had produced. Some of the stoolpigeons ventured a faint "Bravo!" That was all. A complete flop. The painful stillness was broken by the infuriated Zaskowsky, who jumped up on a table and started shouting at us, "Our commandant's speech evidently doesn't suit you. That proves you're not fit to be treated as Germans. But if you won't listen you'll be made to feel. Your ballots will be very closely inspected next Sunday. I needn't say more than that. And if any of you think you can go right on stirring up trouble here in camp you'll find yourself sadly mistaken. Go to bed!"

Back in our sleeping quarters we grinned at each other.

"What the one built up with his head," remarked Schultz, "the other tore down with his ass." This expressed the general feeling. We were in excellent spirits that evening.

We hadn't much time left for discussion of our tactics, and the elections formed the sole topic of conversation the following day. It soon became apparent that two opposing views were taking shape. Excellent political arguments could be found for each, yet they remained irreconcilable.

On the evening of November 11, trusted representatives of the various companies met in the latrine in a final attempt to secure united action.

Comrade Winter of Company Two, former section organizer and known as a loyal Party member, opened the discussion. He spoke calmly and in detail, as though

he were presiding at a legal unit meeting. He had not forgotten his Party jargon either.

"Comrades, we must consider the question: What is the aim of the government and the Secret Police in granting us the franchise? My answer to this question is: They want to test the morale of the prisoners. They know nothing of the real situation here any more than they know what the workers or the peasants or the urban petty bourgeoisie really think. For them this election is not merely a demonstration for the benefit of foreign countries, but a political barometer in this country. This brings me to the second question: What can we do to frustrate the purpose of the elections here in camp? Comrades, it is obvious that we can hardly hope to bring out a hundred per cent negative vote. Some of the prisoners will be afraid to vote No under the very eyes of the Black Shirts. The political neutrals, some of the Social-Democrats, some of our own comrades even, will vote Yes, with the result that the Nazis will succeed in getting some idea of the camp's political make-up and will be able at the same time to locate the focal points of resistance in the various companies. To prevent this I propose that we pass the word along to all our comrades to vote Yes. Comrades! Is this a correct slogan? Comrades, it is a correct slogan. When people read in the newspapers that we in the concentration camps have voted for the government they will say to themselves that this whole election is nothing but a farce. For what reasonable person will believe that we could possibly be in favor of a government which keeps us imprisoned illegally, tortures us, and murders us? I am therefore in favor of voting Yes in order to expose this election both in Germany and abroad as a fake-election, and in order to deprive the Secret Police of any insight into the political line-up among us at camp."

"Comrades!" Kuleke, the fat cabinetmaker of Company Two, took the floor. "I object to Comrade Winter's proposal, which to my mind constitutes a downright betrayal of the Party and the proletariat. What will our comrades here in camp think if we suddenly approach them--since we haven't the time for a detailed explanation of our tactics--and tell them to vote for Hitler? Will they understand? No, they will not understand. They will interpret our course as a capitulation. Many of them will say, 'If our functionaries have reached the point where they're eating out of the Nazis' hands, why should we go on fighting?' Besides, comrades, how can we adopt so dangerous a tactical plan without the consent of the Party? We neglected to get our instructions in time. It's too late for that now. But for that very reason we're bound to hew to the old line. I propose that we instruct our comrades to come out tomorrow with a solid vote of No."

Fritz was the next speaker.

"Comrades," he said, "we've got to face facts. As Comrade Winter has already explained, any number of the prisoners, for any number of reasons, will turn in an affirmative vote. They'll be prompted by the fear of marked ballots, by the fear of aggravated conditions here in camp, by the hope of a speedier release. We know this and there's nothing we can do to help it. We're powerless to secure a unanimous negative vote. We can, on the other hand, secure an almost hundred per cent affirmative vote. And it's my opinion that all Comrade Winter's arguments to that end are absolutely conclusive. The Party will understand that, in view of our situation, there was nothing else we could do. And as to Comrade Kuleke's statement regarding a change in tactics, I can only say that one of the fundamental laws of tactics requires that they should be changed the moment new conditions make it necessary."

Another comrade, who was a stranger to me, backed the stand taken by Winter and Fritz. "There's still another point we have to consider. Hitler has withdrawn from the League of Nations, and is now asking the people to approve his decision. The Party, too, has always looked upon the League of Nations as an alliance of the victorious imperialistic governments, and its program of liberation, both social and national, calls for fight against both Versailles and Geneva. It's my opinion, therefore, that we will not be placing ourselves in opposition to the Party if we vote for Germany's withdrawal from the League of Nations."

"There you have it," cried the cabinetmaker so vehemently that our lookout at the latrine door motioned a warning. "Your defeatist tactics are beginning to bear fruit already. We've got to the point where functionaries are suggesting that the Party support Hitler's foreign policy. Fine tactics! So you think, because both the Party program and Hitler's program call for secession from the League of Nations, that it's one and the same thing! It makes no difference to you whether it's Hitler's Germany or a proletarian Germany that withdraws from the League of Nations! Haven't you got it through your head yet that Hitler is the agent of German imperialism and that the German bourgeoisie expect him to lead them back along the same old path? Thc Communist Party must wage relentless war against every measure of policy, internal or foreign, adopted by the Nazi government, and must show the working masses what the outcome is for them--hunger, terror, and more wholesale massacres."

"Yes, comrades." Winter took the floor again. "We're all agreed with Comrade Kuleke on that point. It's self-evident that under no circumstances can we lend our support to Hitler's policies, and I must confess that I'm beginning to feel misgivings myself as to whether our instructions may not cause considerable confusion among the less experienced of our comrades. Therefore I propose that we start at once on a systematic campaign here in camp for the purpose of clarifying the situation. If each of you will take aside ten comrades in his own company and explain to them the significance of our tactics, I'm sure that by ten tomorrow morning we will have worked our way through the entire camp."

"And I repeat," returned the cabinetmaker in a voice whose agitation he could barely control, "that I shall never lend myself to the furtherance of such policies without explicit instructions from the Party. What you're doing is inexcusable. Every comrade who doesn't know his own mind, every coward, everyone who wants to follow the line of least resistance, will take shelter behind these instructions of yours to vote Yes. And to plenty of them this first vote for Hitler--though you label it tactics a hundred times over--will be a starting point, so that next time they'll vote Yes without any tactics. Instead of keeping them in the Party and strengthening their class consciousness you're driving them into the camp of the fascists. Those of you who back the affirmative vote are playing the lowest conceivable form of politics. And the Party will call you to account for it."

I too spoke in favor of the negative vote, but it was impossible to arrive at any agreement. Each comrade would have to decide for himself how he ought to vote. We separated with heavy hearts. This was the first time we had failed to see eye to eye in a matter of grave political importance.

Sunday morning arrived. Schinderknecht was in a genial mood. No boot inspection, no spoon inspection, no bowl inspection. He ushered us into the dining room at eight and left us there undisturbed till ten. During these two hours the controversy of the previous day was renewed on a wider scale among the prisoners. Those in favor of the affirmative vote gained ground rapidly. One latrine rumor followed another. It was said that a tin container had been prepared, just large enough to hold the ballot envelopes. With this container inside the ballot box it would be possible to determine how each of us had voted. The Black Shirts had only to compare the sequence of our voting cards as we handed them in with the sequence of the ballots inside the container. ¹ Others insisted that the envelopes would be marked. Besides, they said, the Black Shirts would make arbitrary tests, simply taking your envelope from your hand if they felt like it and inspecting the ballot. Zaskowsky's threat was quoted on all sides. In the midst of the confusion Fritz suddenly came up to me.

"Have you heard? The Party's issued instructions to vote Yes."

"Where did you get that from?"

"One of the churchgoers brought the information back with him."

"Point him out to me."

"I don't know myself who it was."

"Who told you?"

"Herbiger of Company Three."

"He would. It's just a dirty scheme they've cooked up here in the administration. Nothing but a swindle."

The news spread like wildfire and, with spies everywhere on the alert, any attempt to counteract this rumor was extremely difficult.

From ten to three in the afternoon we stood in a line outside the Administration Building, which was used as the polling place and presided over by the election committee--one stormleader and two troopleaders--who handed us our voting cards and ballots. We voted by companies and in alphabetical order. After marking our ballots at a table placed in plain view in a corner, we turned them over to the stormleader sitting behind the ballot box. He dropped them into the box while one of the troopleaders crossed our names off the list.

The results were announced shortly before bedtime. The vast majority had voted in the affirmative, twenty-two per cent had turned in blank ballots, thirteen per cent had voted No. The camp administration seemed very well satisfied. They had probably expected something far worse. Their good humor, incidentally, lasted only until Monday morning, at which time the results that began coming in from other camps were found to be far more favorable to the government than our own, the sum total of the negative votes and the blank ballots amounting to not more than between ten and fifteen per cent.

Whether the Black Shirts at Dachau, Papenburg, Brandenburg, Sonnenburg, Oranienburg, Torgau, and so on were better mental arithmeticians than those at Hubertshof, whether the "secret" balloting had been conducted still more "secretly" there than with us, whether the comrades in the other camps had reached an agreement as to how they should vote, we did not know. All we knew was what the commandant told us-- that he was going to adopt "altogether different measures" and God help those who had dared defy the government right here in camp.

For the next few days the atmosphere was charged. Spies denounced comrades for having voted No and for having influenced others to do the same. There was a great deal of flogging. The coop was crowded. Schinderknecht, in his stupidity, finally let the cat out of the bag. What had particularly enraged the administration were the following lines on some of the ballots:

CPG only!
RFB lives!

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