Swiss and the Nazis Read online

  “Before the allied victory in 1945, POW workers from Russia and other East European countries fled from Germany to Switzerland. Some two hundred were housed for several weeks in our village. It made me aware how many different kinds of Russians there were and the difficulty the USSR must have to keep these different groups together. From discussions I had with some of these POW workers, I learned how soldiers were brutalized within the Soviet armed forces. When the war ended, the allied command supported the Soviet government’s demands that all these men be returned to Russia. Many had promised to write after their return. To my knowledge no mail ever came.”

  The following oral and written recollections present additional in sights and panoramas of the war years from the point of view of Swiss citizens.

  Max Salm, born in 1922, was one of a group that went to the 1937 Boy Scout International Jamboree in the Netherlands. On the way to Holland, “We spent a day in Köln, Germany, where we were put up for the night in the home of a member of the Hitler Youth. That evening we went out and were sitting at a station when a demonstration of several hundred socialists carrying flags passed by in the street. Suddenly, uniformed Nazis wearing swastikas swooped down on them, beat them with clubs and took them away in lorries. There were five or six of us Swiss. We were shocked to see that violence and went back to our room frightened. I never went to Germany again until after the war, and then only for business.5

  “When I went to college, we read a book published in Zurich by Wolfgang Langhoff entitled Die Moorsoldaten: 13 Monate Konzentrationslager (The Swamp Soldiers: 13 Months in a Concentration Camp).6 A stage actor, Langhoff had been imprisoned in one of the first Nazi concentration camps. He later managed to flee to Switzerland, where he became the director of the Zurich Schauspielhaus (Theatre). That book made us aware of the extent of the Nazi terror against free speech and against those declared to be non-Aryans.

  “When the war came, our army (which included every healthy man between 20 and 50) was mobilized. Most of the men in our village, which is 15 miles from the German border, served in the Grenzschutz (frontier defense). Private companies did not pay salaries for men in the service, and service pay at that time was two francs a day, an amount which would buy two pints of beer. This posed big financial problems, especially for families. In 1940 an insurance scheme was created to reimburse 80 percent of a soldier’s normal income. Still today, every man pays two percent of his salary for this insurance in order to receive a substitute income while in military service.” From medieval times, militia service in Switzerland has been compulsory. Only in recent years have employers been required to continue paying salaries and wages while militiamen are on duty.

  “My father served even at age 46. He was stationed in one of the narrow valleys running from the industrial zone of Switzerland down to the Rhine. Having no weapons against armored vehicles, his Grenzschutz unit built tank obstacles to cause delays and force crews to leave their tanks so snipers could pick them off. Everyone knew how difficult such a defense would be without heavy weapons. We were angry but not discouraged. Later when we got antitank guns morale went up.

  “Like my father, most local farmers were called up. When it came time to harvest potatoes, everyone at our college had to spend three weeks of our holiday in service. I was sent with four friends to an infantry unit near the German border. That was only about a mile from my father’s unit. During the day we dug potatoes on nearby farms, and at night we slept with the soldiers on straw bedding. We shared the evening meal with the soldiers, and afterward their captain explained to us how his men built tank traps and trained to use their weapons. Then he bought us rounds of beer.

  “After the fall of Poland, the Russian attack on Finland became the talk of the Swiss people. After all, Finland was a small neutral state like Switzerland with a strong spirit of independence. Communism attracted far more Swiss citizens than Nazism. Communists were even represented in Parliament, something the Nazis never achieved, and continued to present a danger within our country. However, the Soviet attack on Finland changed everything. Communism lost favor. The two Communists in our village renounced the party.

  “The news on the radio and in the press described the bravery of the Finns, the efficient military leadership of Marshal Mannerheim, and the courageous work of the Finnish women’s auxiliary army, the so-called Lottas. We admired the ability of the Finns, how they used their knowledge of the land to resist the huge Russian army. The Finns could move swiftly on skis in the woods and on the frozen lakes, while the Russians had big problems with their trucks and armored vehicles. We admired their courage all the more because they had no help whatsoever from other states.

  “The effects of the Finnish war in Switzerland were manifold. First, it boosted our belief that a small country like Switzerland could indeed defend herself against an aggressor. Second, it gave more Swiss incentive to learn to ski, which was promoted by all sorts of organizations. Third, the alpine units of our army were strengthened. The war in Finland later encouraged the populace to accept the idea of the Réduit. We had heard how a small army was able to resist an overwhelming foe if it takes advantage of favorable terrain. As in Finland, our natural defenses were not situated right at the frontier. We recognized that we might have to give up part of our country, as the Finns had in the peace treaty of 1940. However, we believed that by withdrawing into the Réduit we could survive a long war as an independent state and rebuild after the war.

  “In 1940 young and old civilians were encouraged to join the Ortswehr. I was in the second year at college in Aarau, and our entire class decided to join. We all had been in the pre-military shooting courses from age 15. We were issued old Model 1889 rifles and a red armband with the white cross to wear on the left arm, to identify us as members of the armed forces. Our instructions were that we should always be alert for parachutists and for people behaving suspiciously. We wanted to shoot as many ‘Sauschwaben’ [German pigs] as possible.

  “We were encouraged to take our rifles and armbands everywhere, including to college. Since it was tiring to carry a heavy rifle, we were allowed to carry a revolver or pistol instead. I did not own such a weapon, so my uncle gave me his Browning 6.5-mm pistol, which I still have in a cupboard today.

  “In addition to our daily lookout, we also had night duty. I was detailed to guard the hospital for two hours every night. At 2:00 a.m. one night, a driver appeared, claiming he had a woman about to have a baby. I thought it might be a trick, but decided to let them in. About twenty minutes later I was relieved to hear the cries of a newborn.

  “Before the end of 1940, my father reported that they now had support from a real anti-tank unit and that civil contractors were building concrete shelters for their anti-tank weapons. The soldiers also welcomed the idea of the Réduit. No one knew better than they that they had no chance to defeat the German army. The plan to delay the aggressor near the frontier, gain time for the destruction of factories and bridges, and then to have an unconquerable position in the mountains made sense to all of them.

  “Preparations to destroy important bridges were real enough. Our house was situated about 200 meters from a railway viaduct over the river Aare for the main line between Basel and Chiasso. I watched while caches were made in the bridge’s pylons and a special unit loaded them with explosives. The bridge was then guarded day and night by an infantry platoon to prevent anyone from getting close to those charges.

  “In 1941, I started my military training with the air force at Payene. From now on my mother was left alone at home for weeks at a time to look after the house and garden. The small meat rations had induced my father to keep rabbits. My mother now had to look after them.”

  The Swiss militia army entailed regular service at specific intervals, which allowed men to work or pursue education when not on duty, but required universal mobilization in times of great danger. Salm recalls: “When my friends and I entered the university in October 1942, we knew that some of us had to drop out
of class to do military service in the midst of the term. So we worked out a plan. Anyone currently not in service made his lecture notes with a carbon copy, which he sent off once a week to a buddy who had been called up. Our system worked well.

  “There was always a big throng at the ETH Zurich (Swiss Federal Institute of Technology) for the evening lectures of the historian Karl Meyer. The topic was ‘Basic International Politics.’ He analyzed contradictions in Nazi policy and took apart Hitler’s theories. The largest ETH auditorium was never large enough to hold all the students wishing to hear his lectures. Students stood in the corridors and on the staircases to hear him.

  “Colonel R[oger] Masson, the Chief of Swiss Intelligence, spoke on Tuesday evenings about what was happening on the various fronts. We were impressed with his comprehensive knowledge of the progress of the war. He showed us charts that we would see in the papers the following week, and he ventured forecasts which invariably came true.” Thanks to the analyses of people like Masson, some Swiss were probably better informed than the populations of the combatant countries. Censorship never extended to Swiss universities. In contrast, the Nazis forbade discussion of the war in German universities, and violators paid a terrible price.

  “We had a number of Polish students who had been in the Polish army which fought the Germans in 1940. They were now interned in Switzerland. Those with adequate education were allowed to study. They lived in a camp in Winterthur and came by train to Zurich every day. In one aspect they fared better than we Swiss: they could study full-time, with no interruption for military service. Three of these Poles became life-long friends of mine.

  “I did my first service term in a fighter squadron during the winter of 1942. We were stationed at the Buochs airbase. In July, our routine work at the base was abruptly stopped. A corporal in another unit had betrayed the location of our airbase’s ammunition depot, located in the woods above Kerns, to the Germans. So for about one week we were detailed to the woods to load the ammunition on trucks. Another party went to the railway station of Hergiswil to unload the trucks and load the ammunition into railway carriages for a new, unknown destination. Since we could not use any motorized transport in this dense wood, the entire move had to be done manually. We cursed that corporal and were quite satisfied to hear later that he had been sentenced to death and executed by soldiers of his own unit.

  “Although the death penalty had long been abolished in Switzerland, no one in my family or among my friends found anything wrong with the death penalty being reintroduced for traitors. Nearly all of the executed men spied for Germany. I think it took quite a lot of courage for our authorities to pass these death sentences, which could not be kept secret from Hitler.” Indeed, of 33 death sentences for treason or espionage pronounced during the war, 15 Swiss were actually executed for treason. Once the appeal was denied, the traitor would be immediately shot by a firing squad composed of his own army unit.7 Salm continues:

  “I was again called up for military service from June through august of 1943. This time our squadron was based at Interlaken airfield. The airfields were guarded by infantry and anti-aircraft units. Each member of the air force had his personal 7.5-mm rifle with 48 rounds, and each platoon had a light machine gun and a double-barreled machine gun, mounted on a swivel for use against low-flying aircraft.

  “On July 9, we were just setting out for our evening meal in the nearby village of Bönigen when an officer arrived with orders to put us on the highest state of readiness to protect the aircraft. After a while, a truck arrived, traveling from platoon to platoon unloading ammunition for our machine guns. I have never in my life seen such a mass of ammunition. We were convinced that Hitler must have started to invade Switzerland. The evening news, however, did not mention anything. Perhaps some high-ranking officer had a bad day and wanted us to share his misery.

  “On the following day we listened again to the news and were overwhelmed to hear that the allies had landed in Sicily at dawn on July 10. apparently the invasion was a complete surprise to Italy and Germany. Our esteem for our high command was boosted, as this news showed that our intelligence was better than that of the German army. Having seen Hitler’s eccentricities, which led to the loss of a whole army at Stalingrad a few months before, we all believed that Hitler might now try to seize the north–south rail connections through Switzerland to Italy. It was obvious for us that we must be ready for anything. Knowing about the Réduit, our preparations to blow up the rail tunnels, and being confident that it would be a very difficult task to invade an airbase like Interlaken in the midst of mountains, none of us despaired. ‘Let him come’ was our thought.”

  While Hitler never came, some American airmen did. Max Salm recalls: “In late summer 1944 Fighter Squadron 7 served one of its usual ten-week duties at Interlaken airbase. During this time, heavy daylight bombing raids were flown by the American air force against industrial plants in southern Germany. These day raids caused heavy losses to the Americans, and many damaged bombers flew to Switzerland to escape either being killed by German antiaircraft defenses or taken prisoner in Germany.8

  “The numbers of damaged planes heading for Switzerland had increased considerably during the last few days, and therefore our squadron was transferred to Dübendorf near Zurich at short notice so that these damaged planes could be intercepted when crossing the border and be escorted to the nearest air base for an emergency landing.

  “On September 5th a bomber, damaged when raiding the Mercedes plant in Stuttgart, crossed into Switzerland and was detected and escorted to Dübendorf by four of our Messerschmitt fighters. Our planes were surprised by two American Mustang P-51 fighters, which opened fire on two of our Messerschmitts flying behind the bomber. Paul Treu was evidently killed instantly, and his plane crashed in Affoltern. The engine of the second plane, piloted by Robert Heiniger, was knocked out, but he managed to land at the Dübendorf airbase. This was the last action in which Swiss planes were involved during World War II.”

  The attitude of defiance to the Nazi regime expressed above was apparently universal. Ernst Jenny remembers: “In 1939, at age 16, I was in Luzern High School. We listened to the radio each evening. It was depressing to hear about Hitler’s attacks and his successes. This was the first time I experienced powerlessness against injustice. We got some hope from the weekly Swiss radio programs by Professor von Salis.9

  “In spring 1940, we expected to be attacked by Germany. We lived three kilometers from a military airport. Beginning at dawn fighter planes took off and landed without pause. Capitulation to Germany was never an option. No one ever suggested it. There was general enmity to Hitler and sympathy to Jews.” Jenny continued about his military experiences beginning in 1943:

  “Service in wartime was quite hard, with little sleep and limited food. We had to get up at 0500 and be ready at 0505 for the Kampfbahn, an obstacle course to be run with equipment and arms. The drill was similar to that of the German army, which was the most efficient army at that time. Those who survived the winter maneuvers had a Russian-like experience!

  “By the time I entered service, we had anti-tank rifles and better equipment than before. We had shooting practice once or twice per week. It was always 300 meters prone. Standing position was for the time of napoleon. Lying down, you are less of a target. We certainly would have had a chance—not against the full German army, but in a fight with a similar number of troops.

  “We knew that our equipment was not the most modern. But we were convinced that our armament, fortifications, optimal use of our territory, and our determination would give us a chance. More recently, with much more modern arms, the wars in Indochina or Yugoslavia show that this was not merely wishful thinking.”

  The enemy was not only without but also within, and Nazis in Switzerland were closely watched. Recalls Hans Kleiner: “In Baden we had German members of the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiter Partei (NSDAP, or national Socialist German Workers Party). Police had them listed. After
the war, they were expelled from Switzerland to Germany and handed over to the French.”10

  Hans Widmer remembers: “I was 13 in 1939. I grew up in Orlikon near the major railroad station. I was a Boy Scout and a messenger in Kommando 6. Boy Scouts went to every yard to measure how much ground could be used for planting. As an incentive, you could keep the potatoes you planted on the playground. We always had enough potatoes. My mother was in a patriotic organization. There is no doubt that we would have fought Germany tooth and nail. I swiped Father’s Browning pistol.

  “I had a Communist friend who was pro-Nazi until the attack on the Soviet Union. We always had arguments. All pro-Nazi Germans were listed by the police. If Germany attacked, they would be arrested. My mother was German, and she went to the German consulate to get a visa. When she left, the Swiss police stopped us and required us to register. Everyone who went to the German consulate in Zurich got registered. This was before June 1941, because she would not have gone to the German consulate after the attack on Russia.”11

  The Nazis, both foreign and domestic, from the first sought to identify and attack their enemies. Lucie Schaad-Denner of Basel remembers: “Father was a Freemason, and was listed in the Zurich address book as the head of the Masonic Lodge. Like Hitler, the national Frontists [Swiss Nazis] were against Freemasons. Father once noticed that a car was following him. When he was opening the garage gate, a pursuer got out of his car and seized Father’s briefcase from his car. Father chased the robber, who fired two shots at him. I heard the shots. The robber got away. Father believed that the Frontists wanted information on the Freemasons, and hoped perhaps to find a membership list.12

  “Father offered a reward for information about who shot at him. A week later a man appeared at his office seeking employment—there was much unemployment then—and stated that he wished to collect the reward. Father told him to go to the police. He did so, and informed on the shooter. The police searched the office of the Front and found the stolen folder, but the assailant, a German, had fled to Germany.” This was still before the war, and while Swiss police monitored the Frontists and their foreign sponsors, the assailant would have been able to slip across the border with a valid passport. Lucie Schaad-Denner continues: