Battlegrounds: Cornell Studies in Military History

Jewish World War I Veterans under Hitler

Michael Geheran

• Publisher: Cornell University Press
• Year: 2020
• ISBN:
  9781501751028
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Jewish History
• Index: History

At the end of 1941, six weeks after the mass deportations of Jews from Nazi Germany had begun, Gestapo offices across the Reich received an urgent telex from Adolf Eichmann, decreeing that all war-wounded and decorated Jewish veterans of World War I be exempted from upcoming "evacuations." Why this was so, and how Jewish veterans at least initially were able to avoid the fate of ordinary Jews under the Nazis, is the subject of Comrades Betrayed.

Michael Geheran deftly illuminates how the same values that compelled Jewish soldiers to demonstrate bravery in the front lines in World War I made it impossible for them to accept passively, let alone comprehend, persecution under Hitler. After all, they upheld the ideal of the German fighting man, embraced the fatherland, and cherished the bonds that had developed in military service. Through their diaries and private letters, as well as interviews with eyewitnesses and surviving family members and records from the police, Gestapo, and military, Michael Geheran presents a major challenge to the prevailing view that Jewish veterans were left isolated, neighborless, and having suffered a social death by 1938.

Tracing the path from the trenches of the Great War to the extermination camps of the Third Reich, Geheran exposes a painful dichotomy: while many Jewish former combatants believed that Germany would never betray them, the Holocaust was nonetheless a horrific reality. In chronicling Jewish veterans' appeal to older, traditional notions of comradeship and national belonging, Comrades Betrayed forces reflection on how this group made use of scant opportunities to defy Nazi persecution and, for some, to evade becoming victims of the Final Solution.

Chapter 1

Reappraising Jewish War Experiences, 1914–18

The long-standing historiography of German Jewry during World War I has typically followed a linear trajectory that begins with Jewish enthusiasm in 1914, as Jews celebrated the war in the belief that it would obliterate antisemitic stereotypes and level any remaining barriers to social equality. Despite volunteering to fight at the front lines in large numbers, however, Jews’ hopes ended disastrously amid increasing antisemitism, culminating in the so-called Jew Count ( Judenzählung) in November 1916.¹ Only since the early 2000s have studies shown that military and political developments were often perceived differently in the field than on the civilian home front. Military discipline, comradeship, almost daily exposure to hardships and life-threatening dangers, and the experience of combat created a distinctive habitus among the Jewish combatants, one that set them apart from their civilian counterparts back home in Germany. A study of the Jewish combatants raises a series of overarching questions: Did Jewish soldiers experience the war differently than other Germans? To what degree was Jewishness a factor at the front? How did Jews react to antisemitism in the field? Could the comradeship of the front lines overcome antisemitism? Were Jewish soldiers able to successfully discredit antisemitic stereotypes?

Jewish Service in the German Military

Relations between Jews and other Germans in Imperial Germany were marked by acceptance despite the existence of antisemitism. After Jews were granted legal equality and all the rights of German citizens following Germany’s unification in 1871, they gained access to the major functional spheres of society as well as in everyday life, and became firmly established in the German middle class. Numerous studies have shown that German Jews were highly integrated in their local communities, participating in all spheres of social, cultural, and associational life.² Although discourses complaining about alleged “Jewish influence” in the media, finance, or the arts were common, antisemitic parties were confined to the political fringe prior to 1918. A small faction of radical nationalists demanded stripping Jews of their rights, on the grounds that they belonged to a foreign ethnic group, but if political power is any indicator of the success of these ideologies, then their resounding defeat in the 1913 parliamentary elections seems to provide little evidence that this rhetoric actually resonated with the general public.³

Antisemitism had, however, made serious inroads in two important spheres in German society: the youth movement, especially in university student fraternities, and perhaps the most important institution in Imperial Germany—the army. The Prussian officers’ corps traditionally saw Jews as poor patriots, physically weak, effeminate, and inherently unsuited for soldiering.⁴ Along with socialists and members of the working class, many German officers regarded Jews as politically “unreliable,” believing that their perceived lack of strong moral character and leftist political leanings threatened to open the army to liberalization.⁵ Although there were no legal restrictions prohibiting Jews from obtaining a commission, in practice they were all but barred from entering the officers’ ranks. To become an officer in the Prussian Army, a soldier had to not only pass the required physical and practical examinations, but also obtain the endorsement of his regimental commander. His candidacy then had to be unanimously approved by all of the officers in the regiment by way of a secret ballot. A single negative vote was sufficient to disqualify a candidate, regardless of his qualifications. Between 1885 and the outbreak of World War I, not a single Jew was on the roll of active or reserve officers in the Prussian Army.⁶ Only in Bavaria did Jews stand a chance of entering the officers’ ranks. In 1913, 129 Jewish soldiers in Bavaria held reserve commissions.⁷

Discrimination in the military had serious implications for Jewish men. The army was an institution of immense stature in Imperial Germany, and widely regarded as the “school of the nation” among the German middle class. As all German men were obligated to serve a three-year stint in the armed forces, there can be little doubt that conscription legitimized these negative stereotypes before a significant swath of German society.⁸ Anti-Jewish prejudice was based primarily on religion, not race, as conversion to Christianity offered some Jews a path to obtaining an officer’s commission. Yet there can be no doubt that it intensified the sense of dishonor and estrangement of German Jews, who had practically no chance to pursue military careers.

Despite Jews’ being barred from the officers’ corps, military service remained a key issue in Jewish discourses on emancipation and held a particular attraction for young Jewish men struggling to unburden themselves from stereotypes of frailty.⁹ In a society where young men were expected to fulfill masculine ideals that were inseparable from the image of the soldier, the army was seen not merely as the “school of the nation,” but also as the “school of manhood,” where adolescents underwent a masculine rite of passage that made them into “real men.” Soldiers demonstrated selflessness, bravery, and the readiness to sacrifice self for a higher cause, placing the nation and their communities over personal safety. This was the ultimate expression of manhood. The tough, powerful physique of the soldier ran counter to the image of the Jewish man as feeble, effete, and weak, and donning the Kaiser’s uniform promised young Jewish men social prestige, status, and a chance to earn the respect of other men. This is precisely what attracted Victor Klemperer to the army. As a young boy growing up in Berlin, he was fascinated by the military, and one of his favorite pastimes was to watch the soldiers of the nearby grenadier regiment drill and march in formation. Both of his brothers had been declared “unfit” for active military service, and he too was convinced that someone as “scrawny” and “hunchbacked” as he was would never be accepted by the army. When he reported for his physical exam in 1903, he was elated when the medical examiner told him, “Although you have no muscles, you are completely healthy and the military will toughen you up.”¹⁰ The fact that he “was not physically inferior and hunchbacked, like it was often said,” filled Klemperer with “great joy”; he rejoiced at the prospect of being considered “useful.”¹¹ It came as a particularly severe blow when, several weeks later, he was reexamined by another doctor after reporting for duty in Halle and deemed too frail. Klemperer was sent home, “completely dismayed.” “My physical competence,” he wrote, “of which I had been so proud, had come to nothing.”¹²

Becoming a soldier was the most visible expression of one’s allegiance and willingness to self-sacrifice for the nation. In Germany, military service was grounded in a long-standing tradition in European political thought that emphasized the inherent connection between national citizenship and soldiering. In theory if not in practice, it gave the soldier a claim to individual rights and freedoms grounded in the belief that someone who is willing to die for the fatherland has a claim on full recognition as a citizen.¹³ The language of heroism in public discourses reinforced and perpetuated these ideals throughout German society, equating military service with social and political belonging.¹⁴ For Jews, however, soldiering held a greater significance. As the highest form of civic virtue, it was a pathway to social acceptance and a means to demonstrate Jewish worthiness for equal rights.

The Spirit of 1914

Recent studies have laid to rest the notion that an all-embracing war euphoria swept Germany in 1914. While enthusiasm visibly manifested itself in cities and larger towns, this sentiment was largely restricted to the liberal and middle classes. There was little jubilation among the working class or in rural communities, where news of the impending conflict was mostly greeted with uncertainty and resignation.¹⁵ On the surface, however, the “Spirit of 1914” seemed to rally the nation together. In big cities and university towns, large crowds in favor of the war marched through the streets, pubs and cafés were overflowing with people singing patriotic songs, and throngs of volunteers rushed to enlistment depots to join the army. Out of common crisis emerged a newfound solidarity. Businessmen, intellectuals, university students, and the majority of the urban middle classes saw the war as a means to end decades of bitter domestic strife, and to unite a society fractured by social conflict and class difference. Labor unions, interest groups, religious organizations, and political parties of all stripes seized the moment, believing that an enthusiastic endorsement of the German war effort would further their political agendas, be it voting reform in Prussia, social solidarity, or the repudiation of antisemitism. Even the Social Democratic Party (Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands, or SPD), the erstwhile opponent of the monarchy’s authoritarian nation-state, pledged its support to Kaiser Wilhelm. Thus, the Burgfrieden—the fortress truce—was established.

To acculturated German Jews, the war was a catalyst for social change; it represented the long-awaited moment for them to publicly demonstrate their loyalty to the fatherland and surmount the last hurdles toward complete integration in German society. Kaiser Wilhelm’s famous speech before a delegation of Reichstag deputies, in which he vowed to no longer recognize political parties or religious confessions but “only Germans,” emboldened Germany’s Jewish population. Jewish newspapers, synagogues, and interest groups across Germany immediately responded with public exhortations in support of the government. Germany’s largest Jewish organization, the Central Association of German Citizens of Jewish Faith (Centralverein deutscher Staatsbürger jüdischen Glaubens, or CV), published a proclamation just two days after the Kaiser’s speech: “Call to Arms! To German Jews! In this fateful hour, the Fatherland calls its sons to the colors. That every German Jew is prepared to sacrifice blood and property for this cause, as required by duty, is obvious. Fellow Jews! We call on you to rise above your simple duty and devote your strength and energy to the Fatherland!”¹⁶

Zionist organizations such as the Zionist Federation of Germany (Zionistische Vereinigung für Deutschland) responded with similar declarations of support, urging all Jewish men to take up arms and local communities to back the German cause.¹⁷ A powerful impetus for Zionists was that the war was being fought against Russia, widely regarded as Jews’ greatest oppressor. Standing shoulder to shoulder with their Jewish brethren in Russia, they saw a victorious German campaign against the Tsar—“the archenemy of all Jews”—as an opportunity to free millions of East European Jews from oppressive, autocratic rule.¹⁸

The feeling that Germany had been provoked into a defensive war by the Entente reinforced Jews’ sense of solidarity with other Germans. “We feel that we are being attacked,” Herbert Sulzbach noted in his diary as he enlisted with the Sixty-Third Field Artillery Regiment in Frankfurt am Main. “And that feeling, of having to defend ourselves, gives us unbelievable strength.”¹⁹ In universities throughout Germany, Jewish student fraternities, such as the Salia in Würzburg, urged their members to enlist before the moment passed, “to spill their hearts’ blood on the grim battlefield for the honor and glory of our beloved Fatherland.”²⁰ Ernst Marcus was one of thousands of Jews who volunteered for the army. For him, the wave of euphoria in his home city of Breslau was an overwhelming, if imagined, moment: “The mood in those days was unforgettable; only then did I ever feel a real enthusiasm, a genuine solidarity that transcended class, status, and political persuasion. There was an overriding consensus: Germany was being attacked, the English, this nation of shopkeepers, were denying Germany its place in the sun, and therefore this battle for our honor and our existence was justified.”²¹ In Munich, Victor Klemperer was also gripped by the patriotic hysteria sweeping through German cities. As he watched columns of troops file past, marching through the streets to the accompaniment of music and throngs of cheering spectators, Klemperer found himself “moved to tears every time.”²²

Jewish responses from August 1914 did not differ dramatically from those of other Germans of the same class and background. Jewish autobiographical sources articulated narratives common among young, middle-class German men, such as love of fatherland, performance of duty (Pflichterfüllung), and a desire to prove their male self-worth. Many volunteers, like Karl Löwith, were drawn to the sense of adventure the war promised: “The passion for ‘living dangerously,’ which Nietzsche instilled in us, the desire to throw ourselves into adventure and to test ourselves … these and similar motives led me to welcome the war as an opportunity to live and die more intensely.”²³ Fritz Goldberg also saw the war as an exhilarating, empowering moment. Invoking the romantic imagery of heroism and combat as a masculine rite of passage, he eagerly followed his classmates to join a local regiment. The war, he wrote, “was not a break with our past; on the contrary, it was a confirmation of everything we had been taught to believe. We were raised in the spirit of heroism—now its hour had come. Love of Fatherland was our beacon—now all that mattered was to prove it. The Kaiser and his army were the highest authority—now we yearned to heed their call.”²⁴

Like many German men in 1914, Goldberg embraced romantic notions of combat, manhood, and performing acts of bravery on the battlefield that would make him a hero. Aspirations of heroism encouraged thousands of Jews to volunteer, with Kaiser Wilhelm’s words still echoing in their ears. It was the moment for these young men to prove themselves and to be celebrated by their communities back home. Their induction into the army was an entry ticket into a privileged, exclusive male fraternit...

Table of contents

• Acknowledgments
• List of Abbreviations
• Introduction
• 1. Reappraising Jewish War Experiences, 1914–18
• 2. The Politics of Comradeship: Weimar Germany, 1918–33
• 3. “These Scoundrels Are Not the German People”: The Nazi Seizure of Power, 1933–35
• 4. Jewish Frontkämpfer and the Nazi Volksgemeinschaft
• 5. Under the “Absolute” Power of National Socialism, 1938–41
• 6. Defiant Germanness
• Epilogue
• Notes
• Bibliography
• Index