This is my story - my life from the horrors of war and slaughter to the travails of change and atonement. For much of my life I lived in fear that my past would catch up to me. I hid my beliefs and prejudices and walked among the gentle, unsuspecting people of a small American town. I am, or was, an embodiment of madness, atrocity, cruelty and horror.

I had to remind myself how to behave, react and interact with those around me. I could not pick my friends, neighbors or the people I would like to associate with. I could not express my desires and thoughts. I could not do what I wanted to do. I was locked inside a mad world without the ability to make any contribution, as I used to do - during the war and before it.

Friends and neighbors? I shunned them. Social groups and religious organizations? I shunned them as well. Often I thought it better to turn myself in or die one way or another - just to get everything over with.

That changed one day - a miraculous day when a young child came into my life and helped me back into life, reappraisal, and a quest for atonement.

That young child was Jewish.

And I am a former SS officer.

The Unforgotten Prayer

By Danny Rittman

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2011 Danny Rittman
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4502-9115-6

Chapter One

Building an Empire

It was not easy to rebuild an empire out of a defeated and failing country after the First World War. I knew that the only reason that our party — the National Socialists, or Nazis — came to power was Germany's desperate condition. A once proud country laid low, its government and economy in ruins. No one would opt for a fanatical government under normal circumstances.

We felt these dire circumstances presented us with a wondrous opportunity, a once in a lifetime chance. And we took it. I say "we" because I joined the Nazi Party in 1932 at the age of twenty-two. I believed the Party was the only way to save Germany.

We went for it with all of our might, with all of our cunning. We used all means to win control over our nation. We used bribery, extortion, and even murder. Everything was Kosher to win my political battles. Funny — I loved to use this word "Kosher" with great sarcasm. I've just never told this to anyone lately.

Very early in the game we realized we needed to find a convincing explanation for our country's chaotic politics and catastrophic depression. We had to find something or someone to blame. We had to find an outlet for the unfocused fear and hatred in people. We planned our approach carefully, looking into every aspect of it. The answer lay with something that was engrained in many Germans anyway — anti-Semitism.

We started with propaganda directed at the masses. Any disappointment, any bad news, we blamed on the Jews. The people were ready for this. They were unemployed, bitter and full of anger that needed to be discharged on something or someone. Imagine millions of people without work, without money and barely eking out livings. The banks were badgering them about mortgage payments. What lenders there were charged exorbitant interest. People walked the streets with neither purpose nor hope. They came to despise the bungling governments that came and went without resolving the nation's woes.

Most recalled a time when government had brought them hope for the future and pride in their nation. We promised to bring that back. Germans were eager to hear our message — and to believe it with all their hearts as well.

The Jews were rich and educated. Everyone knew they dealt ably with money and wielded influence everywhere. This was done on the backs of earnest Germans. Those banks and lenders that exploited people? Jews, of course. The rest of them were doctors, attorneys, accountants and engineers. They lived well while Germans struggled to get by.

Everyone already mistrusted, disliked or hated the Jews. It all went back to the Middle Ages and the plagues and blaming those deemed responsible for Jesus' death. Much of it had gone into dormancy as modern times came and pushed rural folklore out of the minds of urban and progressive people. All we had to do was reawaken it. And with high office, we could do just that.

Channeling anger at times like those back then was a pleasant task. A concerted campaign to blame the Jews for the problems of the 1930s led to laws directed against them. The people accepted this readily — even joyfully. They wanted to hit, they wanted to break, and they wanted to feel relief from a decade of fear.

The Party gave them what they wanted.

We made the Jews a target — in time, a legal target — for hatred, abuse and murder. Enemies of the state, the bane of the Fatherland, revolting sub-humans, thieves, liars and the like. We became free to do anything we wanted. We took away the Jews' livelihoods, money and eventually their rights as citizens and human beings. It worked out better than we had imagined. The openings improved the lot of many Germans.

The rule of law? You forget the times.

We used their money and others' as well to rearm the military, which had been unjustly shorn of its might by the Versailles Treaty after the First World War. Germany without military might was unthinkable. The two things had gone together since the time of Frederick the Great. A weak military had added to the people's sense of powerlessness and emptiness. A restored one renewed their sense of grandeur and purpose.

Revenge against France was a duty we all strove for. We found many of the old generals too timid and resistant to the Party's goals. So we found more pliant ones to take their place. We looked for people that yearned for a restored empire. Men who would not hesitate to take bold steps once assured from on high by the Party. We gave them arms and purpose and they gave us victory and empire.

We began with Czechoslovakia, Poland and France then swallowed most of Europe — more than Charlemagne, Louis XIV, or Napoleon had ever realized. In every conquered land, we sought out the Jews there. Then we struck into Russia and enacted the same program. The Jewish problem was everywhere and a solution was needed to resolve the matter once and for all.

Yes, rounding them up and transporting them to the camps was expensive and a considerable part of the budget, but the enormity of the problem and the nearness of the solution made it worthwhile. Besides, Jews could be used in forced labor in war-related production. Industry thrived and so did the war effort. Our visionary ministers and dutiful officials wrenched every ounce of work from them until they were no longer of any use.

Yes, it was not always a pretty sight. I admit that now. But it was an ironic justice that those who had prospered from our toil were now our unpaid laborers. I discovered that some government officials charged factories for a steady supply of Jews. Some well- placed Reichsmarks here or there would bring in a fresh truckload of laborers. It all meant sense according to their accounting books. Policing the matter was not high on our priorities, unless it led to labor shortages somewhere in our war industries.

The nation's economy was booming, our armies were on the march, and the extermination of the Jews was proceeding. As with any success, opposition soon emerges. That's simply the way of things. The SS, once Hitler's elite bodyguard, took on broader responsibilities. SS officers were carefully selected to perform their sensitive and vital work of maintaining the safety of the German people. Later the SS was charged with seeing that the Final Solution was carried through. Their numbers grew markedly and their work was done professionally.

I served proudly in the SS.

Against all predictions, Germany became an Empire again.

The Fall of an Empire, Plan O Is Initiated

The exhilaration of victory was overwhelming. It tapped into our souls and found a deeply-ingrained joy in national greatness — a joy, I would argue, not confined to us Germans. Exhilaration is wonderful but it can be blinding too. Our advances into Russia stalled and retreat followed. It took two years to realize that the reversals weren't temporary.

It was not a matter of numbers and economic output. To this day I am convinced that had we planned our war better and avoided a handful of miscalculations in Russia and elsewhere, we would be masters of Europe — if not more. We had many casualties in the Russian expanses and we had to fall back. Then the United States entered the war against us. This was a turning point — and not a good one.

It was as though a sorcerer had waved his magic wand and our luck left us. We started to lose battles. In the sea, land and even in the air. What we had once thought was ours by right of birth or through conquest, the British, Americans and Russians were taking — slowly and inexorably. I reluctantly rethought the course of the war, Germany's future and my own future as well.

At this point, Plan O was created.

Plan O was born while I was on leave in Bavaria, at the estate of an old friend, during Christmas time in 1944. After a dinner with friends, most of them back from the fronts, my girlfriend Alena and I went out to the balcony to enjoy the fresh alpine air, cold though it was. We hugged each other quietly as we looked out on the dark mountains, as the moonlight gently illuminated its silent peaks. The stately evergreens cast immense shadows upon the valley below and the pine scent filled us.

"The war is hard on you, darling," Alena whispered as she held my hand. "It is etched in your face now.... We should spend more time here."

"You're right, of course ... but I have my duty. Should I fail in that ... the Fatherland...."

I released a long sigh.

"Dear ... when will this war end?"

I was taken aback. We all thought about the question but did not want to ask it.

"I really do not know," I answered quietly. "We need to consolidate, gather our might once more...."

I was still under the spell of the Party.

"Who is going to win the war?"

The implicit uncertainty made me think I had heard her wrong, but the concern in her eyes made it clear. I had never allowed the thought of defeat to be considered. I was alarmed, but I soon calmed.

Her question was a legitimate one — one entertained in the army, I had heard indirectly, though not in the SS. She innocently asked the inevitable question that should be asked during any war — what if we lose?

I did not answer. After everyone went to sleep, I sat on the balcony and watched the bright moon track across the Bavarian sky. Arrogance prevented us from even considering the possibility of defeat, but I had to ponder the outcome. After Stalingrad and Kursk and Normandy, I had to ask, what if we lose?

If captured by the British or Americans, I would be given fair treatment. But not if I were captured by the Russians. We had mercilessly killed them by the millions and could expect nothing but retribution.

I thought about the inevitable discovery of our sordid work in the East: the concentration camps, the killing of millions of people including children and elderly, and other actions. Those things would not go away quietly. Our actions will excite outrage and prosecution — or revenge. We had crossed a line that could not be excused as merely part of war. People will be put on trial and executed. There was no doubt of that.

A moment of panic struck me and my heart raced. This will bring no good, I thought. I forced myself to calm down. There is no need to panic. Entertaining doubt had allowed that. That was it, I was sure.

We will win this war and complete our plans for the Jews and other undesirable people.

Lapses into fading certainties did not last. I had to plan rationally. In the event of imminent defeat, we would be ready. We will have a plan, an escape plan — a carefully thought out plan. I'll cautiously bring it up at our next meetings.

How shall I call this plan?

What does it matter what the plan is named? Just give it to experts — our generals. They will perfect it. Somehow I wanted to choose the plan's name and my imagination explored various ideas and ruminations.

The enemy will have to surround us ... like hunters closing in on the hunted — a circle. I smelled the strong pine scent and closed my eyes to savor it. I smiled as an idea came to me. We'll trick them. The letter "O" will be its symbol. An "O" symbolizes a circle — encirclement. If surrounded, we will break out of the "O."

Plan O....

The idea of the circle allowed me to think things through. We will have to find a way to escape this circle of doom. We'll have to be more clever than our enemies. I'll start to design this plan when I am back from leave. Not everyone can know of it; that can only cause problems and maybe even betrayals. My mind went into high gear. Almost everyone involved with the plan's design must be killed.

My mind fixed on the letter "O." It came to mean my survival, life — a new life.

Plan O

Only a few top Party members and SS officers knew of Plan O. Each person had his own escape plan according to location and time. Most of us knew nothing of the others' routes or identities. My Berlin adjutant, Hauptsturmführer Otto Kassell, was chosen by myself based on his fierce loyalty to the SS. Only he and I will have to execute my part.

His loyalty to me will be unrequited: after initiating the plan he will die, as he freely chose. Such were the mindsets of many in those days.

Plan O will help us escape to various parts of the globe, with each figure having choice as to his destination. I preferred a prosperous country, a place where I could live well. The jungles of Paraguay were not for me. I will become a retired Swiss businessman without family. I will live alone. My identity and appearance will be completely changed. I will take along enough funds to live well for the rest of my life — thanks to the pre-war gold bullion we had placed in Swiss banks. Better that we had it than the Russians.

And that's how it was.

Over a period of just a few months we created and refined the Plan. Every step was thoroughly thought out and set up for the right moment — when darkness fell on the Reich. My confidante and I would initiate the Plan at the designated time and place. After completing the Plan I felt relaxed, for I knew I would escape the hand of justice — or worse, the hand of the Russians.

Soon enough, the time arrived.

A New Man, A New Life

Otto Kassell's forehead sweated profusely as we sat in a heavily-fortified underground bunker listening to the ominous sounds of the Russian army nearing Berlin. Kassell was a stout fellow with a thin mustache beneath a prominent nose. His eyes were surrounded with thick circles that gave him an overall porcine look. But he was my devoted adjutant and trustworthy. He knew Plan O as well as anyone.

With us were several high-ranking Party officials. Not Göbbels or Himmler, but some influential figures whose capture would be highly prized by Stalin. I was not so august as the propaganda minister of the head of the SS, nonetheless my capture would mean my death as I was involved in certain loathsome events, as you shall see. You've heard of them, no doubt. You may also have heard them denied. However, I assure you they happened. I played a role in some of them.

As the explosions from Russian artillery rounds got closer they changed from dull booms to fearsome cracks. We pondered the end of our Reich. They had won — at least for the moment, we thought. I looked about in frustration — and with occasional stabs of despair. But Germany history is as long as it is proud. Many of our noble leaders were not appreciated in their day.

Our greatness would be gone in a few days, perhaps by morning. The good we thought we had done would be pushed aside by the victors; we all knew that is the nature of historical writing. History would not see anything honorable about a quest to free Germany and the world from the stranglehold of Jews. Indeed, the history of our Reich would be written by Jews, and by those sympathetic to them.

I thank God that the history was not written by victorious Germans that our crimes have come to light.

"It is time, sir," I heard Kassell say.

I wrestled with fear and doubt and quickly turned towards him.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

I wanted to shout at him but I stopped myself. I was lost in dark reflections and in need of coaxing to come out of them. To his credit, he insisted. Kassell was coldly rational to my occasional fits of emotion — and that is why I selected him.

"There is a plan we need to execute."

Kassell stressed every word and in the panicky atmosphere of the bunker, he sounded severe. The dreaded moment had arrived. I shook my head and opened my eyes. He stood in front of me, motioning towards an adjacent conference room where great objectives for the Reich had once been formed.

"We need to ... discuss matters," Kassell insisted.

I had instructed him to see to it that there was no vacillation on my part. It seems so cold and cruel now, but that was how we thought and acted.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Unforgotten Prayerby Danny Rittman Copyright © 2011 by Danny Rittman. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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