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In September 1939, Germany invades Poland and Police Battalion 101 is among the first battalions sent into the occupied country. In December, the battalion returns to Hamburg and around 100 young career policemen leave for other units, being replaced by older reservists. The battalion returns to Poland the following year, where it carries out âresettlement actionsâ in which âall Poles and other so-called undesirablesâJews and Gypsiesâ[are] expelled from the incorporated territories into central Polandâ in the name of âracial purificationâ (39). One reservist, Bruno Probst, recalls this as the time he âexperienced the first excesses and killingsâ (40).
In late 1940, the battalion is ordered to guard the LĂłdĹş ghetto and are given âa standing order to shoot âwithout further adoâ any Jew who [âŚ] [comes] too close to the fenceâ (41). Returning to Hamburg again in 1941, âall remaining prewar recruits beneath the rank of noncommissioned officer [are] distributed to other units, and the ranks [are] filled with drafted reservistsâ (41-42). The battalion is heavily involved in the deportation of Hamburgâs Jewish population. Setting up at a Russian barracks after escorting a deportation train to Minsk, they learn that the Jews they just escorted are to be shot. Lieutenant Hartwig Gnade, â[n]ot wanting to be involvedâ (43), takes the battalion out of the barracks and away from Minsk.
When the battalion returns to Poland in June 1942, it is mostly âcomposed of men without any experience of German occupation methods in eastern Europe, or for that matter [âŚ] any kind of military serviceâ (44), with only a few of its members having been present at the early actions. It is led by Major Wilhelm Trapp, a 53-year-old veteran of World War I and career policeman. Although Trapp joined the Nazi Party in 1932 (and so âtechnically qualifie[s] as an âold Party fighter,â or Alter Kämpferâ), he has ânever been taken into the SSâ and is âclearly not considered SS materialâ (45). He will âsoon come into conflictâ (45-46) with his captains, Wolfgang Hoffmann and Julius Wohlauf, young men, SS officers, and committed members of the Nazi Party. They view Trapp as âweak, unmilitary, and unduly interfering in the duties of his officersâ (46).
The battalion also has a first lieutenant and seven reserve lieutenants who were âselected to receive officer training after they were drafted into the Order Police, because of their middle-class status, education, and success in civilian lifeâ (46-47). They are aged between 33 and 48 and do not belong to the SS. The noncommissioned officers are largely younger and are ânot reservists but rather prewar recruits to the policeâ (47). Most of the ârank and fileâ policemen are from Hamburg and have an average age of 39, with more than half of them aged âbetween thirty-seven and forty-two, a group considered too old for the army but most heavily conscripted for reserve police dutyâ (48).
Approximately 63% of the rank and file policemen are âof working-class backgroundâ (47) mostly working unskilled jobs. Around 35% are âlower-middle-class, virtually all of them white-collar workersâ (47). This means that âthe majority [come] from a social class that had been anti-Nazi in its political cultureâ and âa not insignificant numberâ had presumably been â[c]ommunists, socialists, and/or labor union members before 1933â (48). In addition, â[b]y virtue of their age, [âŚ] [they] all went through their formative period in the pre-Nazi eraâ and âhad known political standards and moral norms other than those of the Nazisâ (48). These points considered together, the men do not appear to be âa very promising group from which to recruit mass murderers on behalf of the Nazi vision of a racial utopia free of Jewsâ (48).
In 1941, Himmler puts Odilo Globocnik in charge of âthe destruction of the Jews of the General Government, who constituted the bulk of Polish Jewryâ (49). It is decided that this requires a âmethod different from the firing squad operations used against Russian Jewry,â a method that is âmore efficient, less public, and less burdensome psychologically for the killersâ (49). Jews are to be sent to âextermination camp[s] [âŚ] whereâby virtue of assembly-line procedures requiring very limited manpower, most of it prisoner laborâthey [will] be gassed in relative secrecyâ (50).
Despite the scale of the task (there are, in total, around 2,000,000 Jews in the General Government), Globocnik is given âvirtually no manpower to accomplish itâ (50). He draws on âthe Sonderdienst (Special Service), composed of small units of ethnic Germansâ (51) and âthe so-called Trawnikis,â or ânon-Polish auxiliaries from Soviet border regionsâ (52) recruited from POW camps, as well as some members of the Security Police. However, âthree Order Police battalions, totaling 1,500 men, represent the single largest police manpower poolâ (51) at his disposal.
In spring 1942, Globocnik begins deporting Jews to extermination camps at BeĹĹźec and SobibĂłr. By late June, âscarcely three months after the first deportations from the Lublin ghetto, about 100,000 Jews from the Lublin district [have] been killed, along with 65,000 from KrakĂłw and Galiciaâ (53). However, the mass murder is halted by transportation issues and remains slow for almost a month. Battalion 101 arrive in the Lublin district âduring this enforced lull in the Final Solution,â having âreceived orders for a âspecial actionââ (53) but not knowing exactly what awaits them.
Initially, the battalion are involved in the âconsolidation processâ of âcollecting Jews in smaller settlements and moving them to larger ghettos and campsâ (54). Although this does not include mass executions, âJews who [are] too old, frail, or sick to be transported [are] shot in at least some instancesâ (54). However, Globocnik soon âlos[es] patience with this consolidation process and decide[s] to experiment with renewed killingâ (54). With deportation trains unable to access the extermination camps, âmass execution through firing squad [is] the available alternative,â and âReserve Police Battalion 101 [is] the unit to be testedâ (54).
Battalion 101 are ordered to round up the 1,800 Jews living in the village of JĂłzefĂłw. Jewish men of working age are to be sent to one of the camps while the âwomen, children, and elderly [are] simply to be shot on the spotâ (55). When Major Trapp says that âany of the older men who [do] not feel up to the task before them [can] step outâ (57), around a dozen men accept the offer. Lieutenant Heinz Buchmann also asks for another assignment, declaring that he will âin no case participate in such an action, in which defenseless women and children are shotâ (56).
The battalion are assigned either to round up the Jews in JĂłzefĂłw or âto proceed to the forest to form the firing squadsâ (57). Trapp does ânot go to the forest itself or witness the executionsâ (57) because he â[can] not bear the sightâ (58). Policeman recall seeing him âweeping like a child,â asking âOh, God, why did I have to be given these orders,â and declaring that âsuch jobs donât suit me. But orders are ordersâ (58).
The first Jews arrive in the forest and the firing squad â[come] forward and, face to face, [are] paired off with their victimsâ who are ordered to âlie down in a rowâ (61). The policemen place âtheir bayonets on the backbone above the shoulder blades as earlier instructed, and [âŚ] [fire] in unisonâ (61). Aside from âa midday break, the shooting proceed[s] without interruption until nightfallâ (61). Inexperienced men shooting at point-blank range make mistakes and often âthe entire skull explode[s]â (64) and the men are soon âgruesomely besmirched with blood, brains, and bone splintersâ (65). Alcohol is given to the shooters.
Confronting the reality of mass murder, some men try âto make up for the opportunity they had missed earlierâ and ask to be relieved because the task is ârepugnantâ (62) and they are ânot able to carry out further executionsâ because their ânerves [are] totally finishedâ or they have a âvery weak natureâ (66). Sometimes this occurs after they begin engaging in conversations with their victims and learn that they are from Germany or even from Hamburg, like most of the battalion. Other men do not ask to be relieved but âintentionally [âŚ] [shoot] pastâ (62) their targets, wounding rather than killing them, with one policeman later reporting that he âintentionally missed. I then ran into the woods [and] vomitedâ (68).
Others simply hide or appear to be busy elsewhere. One such policeman is later confronted by his comrades, who berate him âwith remarks such as âshitheadâ and âweaklingâ to express their disgust,â although he otherwise âsuffer[s] no consequencesâ (66). For various reasons, an ever-growing number of traumatized policemen gather in the village marketplace having been assigned new duties or âadvised to âslink awayââ (68) by some of the more sympathetic officers.
Seventeen hours after the battalionâs arrival in the village, the shooting finishes and the men return to their barracks âdepressed, angered, embittered, and shakenâ (69). They barely eat but drink âheavilyâ as Trapp attempts to âconsole and reassureâ the men, âagain placing the responsibility on higher authoritiesâ (69). As if â[b]y silent consensus,â no one talks about the massacre and the âentire matter [is] a tabooâ (69). That night, âone policeman [awakes] firing his gun into the ceiling of the barracksâ (69).
Part of the reason so few men initially excuse themselves from the massacre is the fact that there is âno forewarning or time to thinkâ (71) about the realities of what is to come. Equally important is âthe pressure of conformityâthe basic identification of men in uniform with their comrades and the strong urge not to separate themselves from the group by stepping outâ (71). To do so would mean âleaving oneâs comrades and admitting that one was âtoo weakâ or âcowardlyââ (72). One policeman, âmore aware of what truly required courage,â will later admit that he took part in the shooting precisely because â[he] was cowardlyâ (72). Most will later deny that they had a choice, despite Trappâs offer, âclaim[ing] that they had not heard that part of the speech or could not remember itâ (72).
Anti-Semitism can be considered a factor in their decisions as, while the men may not have âconsciously adopted the anti-Semitic doctrines of the regime, they [have] at least accepted the assimilation of the Jews into the image of the enemyâ (73). Following this, their âconcern for their standing in the eyes of their comrades [is] not matched by any sense of human ties with their victims,â as âJews [stand] outside their circle of human obligation and responsibilityâ (73).
An estimated â10 to 20 percent of those actually assigned to the firing squadsâ (74) ask to be reassigned or otherwise avoid their duties but few do so because of â[p]olitically and ethically motivated opposition,â or âopposition to the regimeâs anti-Semitism in particularâ (75). Lieutenant Buchmann offers the âmost dramaticâ example of this, insisting that âshort of a direct personal order from Trapp, he [will] not take part in Jewish actionsâ (76).
Most men, however, stop shooting because of âsheer physical revulsion against what they [are] doingâ without âany ethical or political principles behind this revulsionâ (74). Afterwards, âresentment and bitterness in the battalion over what they had been asked to do [âŚ] was shared by virtually everyone, even those who had shot the entire dayâ (76).
Accordingly, the greatest obstacle for the commanding officers is ânot the ethically and politically grounded opposition of a few but the broad demoralizationâ (76) of everyone involved. Faced with the menâs âreaction to the sheer horror of the killing process itself,â they conclude that âthe psychological burden on the men [has] to be taken into account and alleviatedâ (76).
To help avoid âpsychological demoralization,â Battalion 101 are assigned primarily to âghetto clearing and deportation,â which involves âterrible coercive violence [âŚ] as well as the systematic killing of those who could not be marched to the trains,â with the âbulk of the killingâ (77) moved to extermination camps. They will also share many of their duties with âthe Twanikis, SS-trained auxiliaries from Soviet territories,â who will be assigned âthe worst of the on-the-spot âdirty workââ (77). This division of labor will allow the policemen to âbecome accustomed to their participation in the Final Solutionâ and develop into âincreasingly efficient and calloused executionersâ (77).
Battalion 101 are redeployed to the Northern âsecurity sectorâ of the Lublin district. On August 16, the battalionâs Second Company, commanded by Lieutenant Gnade and stationed in Ĺomazy, are told to be ready for âa Jewish âresettlementââ the following day, during which the âentire Jewish population [is] to be shotâ (79). To spare Second Company the âpsychological burdenâ (79) of mass murder, âthe Hiwis from Trawniki [will] do the shootingâ (80). However, the policemen will still have to execute âinfants and the old, sick, and frail who [cannot] be easily taken to the assembly pointâ as part of the âroundupâ (80).
Second Company round up 1,700 Jews and send âsixty to seventy young menâ (80) from among them into the woods, to begin âwork digging a mass graveâ (80). When the Hiwis arrive, they âimmediately [âŚ] [take] a breakâ and begin drinking âbottles of vodkaâ (80). Gnade and an attending SS officer also begin âdrinking heavilyâ (80). Second Company escorts the Jews on the âone-kilometer âmarch of deathââ (80) into the forest, during which anyone âwho collapse[s] on the way [is] simply shotâ (81). In the forest, the Jews are âordered to undressâ while policemen âcollect clothing and valuablesâ (82).
Lieutenant Gnade is ââa Nazi by convictionâ and an anti-Semite,â as well as being âunpredictableâaffable and approachable at times, brutal and vicious at othersâ (82). His âworst traits [become] more pronounced under the influence of alcohol,â and in Poland he is âdegenerat[ing] into a âdrunkardââ (82). This âincreasing dependence on alcohol [is] not unusual in the battalion,â with one rare nondrinker noting that his âcomrades [drink] so much solely because of the many shootings of Jews, for such a life [is] quite intolerable soberâ (82).
Gnade is âdrunk senselessâ and reveals a growing âstreak of sadismâ (82). He selects around âsome twenty to twenty-five elderly Jews [âŚ] with full beardsâ and makes them undress and âcrawl on the ground in the area before the graveâ (82-83) while he âscream[s] to those aroundâ to get clubs until they âvigorously beat the Jewsâ (83). Gnade then begins âto chase Jews from the undressing area to the graveâ (83).
The grave has âmounds of dirt piled high on three sidesâ and, on the fourth side, âan incline down which the Jews [are] drivenâ (83). The Hiwis, âoften with bottle in hand,â position themselves on the raised walls and shoot down as the Jews are driven into the pit, until âthe grave [is] filled with corpses almost to the topâ (83). Like Gnade, they are increasingly drunk and soon have to stand in the grave itself so as to avoid falling off the walls. As âgroundwater mixe[s] with blood,â they are âsoon standing in it up over their kneesâ (83).
When the Hiwis fall âinto a drunken stuporâ (83), Second Company are ordered to take over the shooting. They are formed into squads and ârelieved by others in rotation after five or six shotsâ (84). Many of the Jews are ânot fatally hit during the execution and nonetheless [are] covered by following victims without being given mercy shotsâ (83). Around two hours later, âthe Hiwis [are] roused from their stupor and [resume] shooting in place of the German policemanâ (84). When they finish at around 7 pm, the âthin covering of the overfilled grave continue[s] to moveâ (84).
Battalion 101âs second massacre is different from âthe improvised and amateurish methods employed at JĂłzefĂłwâ (85). Although the policemen had to take over briefly, the âHiwis, not just liquored up after the event to help them forget but drunk from the start, [do] most of the shootingâ (85). Despite being essential to the operation, â[t]hose spared such direct participation seem to have [âŚ] little if any sense of participation in the killingâ (85). Even when they do take over the shooting, the policemen do not âhave to pair off with their victims face to face,â so the âpersonal tie between victim and killed [is] severedâ (85).
There is another key difference that offers âanother kind of psychological âreliefâ for the menânamely, this time they [do] not bear the âburden of choiceâ that Trapp had offered them so starkly on the occasion of the first massacreâ (86). Although they ultimately have a choice, it is ânot offered to them so openly and explicitlyâ through official channels, so they do not have âto live with the clear awareness that what they [have] done had been unavoidableâ (86). As such, âfollowing orders reinforce[s] the natural tendency to conform to the behavior of oneâs comradesâ (87). Many find this easier than âthe situation at JĂłzefĂłw, where the policemen were allowed to make personal decisions concerning their participation but the âcostâ of not shooting was to separate themselves from their comrades and to expose themselves as âweakââ (87).
Before the first massacre, Trapp had ânot only offered a choice but he had set a tone,â telling the men that â[w]e have the task to shoot Jews, but not to beat or torture themâ (87). Because the second massacre is committed by a company, rather than the whole platoon, Trapp is not present, and the âtoneâ is set by âGnadeâs gratuitous and horrific sadism,â which helps the men take âa major step towards becoming hardened killersâ (87).
Browning provides further details about Battalion 101, emphasizing their advanced age, the fact that âthe majority [come] from a social class that had been anti-Nazi in its political culture,â and the significant observation that âall went through their formative period in the pre-Nazi era,â and therefore âhad known political standards and moral norms other than those of the Nazisâ (48). This helps to highlight the degree to which they are not âa very promising group from which to recruit mass murderersâ (48). This lack of suitability is reinforced by the fact that the men largely had no âexperience of German occupation methods in eastern Europe, or for that matter [âŚ] any kind of military serviceâ (44), and were chosen simply because the Order Police are âthe single largest police manpower poolâ (51) available to Globocnik.
Trappâs unsuitability is also emphasized. Despite âtechnically [qualifying] as an âold Party fighter,ââ he is âclearly not considered SS materialâ (45) and even his captains, Wolfgang Hoffmann and Julius Wohlauf, both members of the SS, consider him to be âweak, unmilitary, and unduly interfering in the duties of his officersâ (46). This also provides us with a small insight into the character of the captains, who will become more prominent figures as the book progresses. We also see a brief moment of Lieutenant Gnadeâs character when, â[n]ot wanting to be involvedâ (43), he takes his troops away from Minsk, where the Jews they have transported are to be killed. This reluctance to be involved with the murder of Jews changes dramatically during the battalionâs second massacre as Gnade, later denounced as ââa Nazi by convictionâ and an anti-Semite,â reveals a brutal âstreak of sadismâ (82), beating and degrading his Jewish captives.
The motif of distance appears again in these chapters. Distance here does not simply refer to the physical distance between the murderer and their victim but to the psychological distance that allows perpetrators to delude themselves that they are not directly involved in genocide. The creation of the âextermination camps,â with their âassembly-line proceduresâ (50), is intended to create such distance and so to be âless burdensome psychologically for the killersâ (49). However, when train faults halt deportations, âmass execution through firing squad [is] the available alternativeâ (54) and Battalion 101 are forced to confront the distressing reality of killing without distance. The men are made to â[come] forward and, face to face, [are] paired off with their victimsâ (61), whom they must shoot at point-blank range.
The battalionâs reactions to such violence are significant. Trapp does ânot go to the forest itself or witness the executionsâ (57) because he cannot âbear the sight,â and policemen remember seeing him âweeping like a childâ and asking âOh, God, why did I have to be given these ordersâ (58). Again, he frames the matter as something over which he has no choice, declaring that âsuch jobs donât suit me. But orders are ordersâ (58). Lieutenant Buchmann, on the other hand, insists that he will âin no case participate in such an action, in which defenseless women and children are shotâ (56). He will go on to declare that âshort of a direct personal order from Trapp, he [will] not take part in Jewish actionsâ (76). Significantly, despite his belief that âorders are orders,â Trapp will allow this, just as he gives the other men the opportunity to âstep outâ (2). In fact, when some of the men who had not stepped out when first offered the option attempt âto make up for the opportunity they had missed earlierâ (62), they too are allowed to perform other duties. This complicates our understanding of both Trapp and the idea of choice, revealing the contradictions and complexities that surround the story of Battalion 101.
There are further complications surrounding the menâs responses to Trappâs offer. Many will later claim that they âhad not heard that part of the speech or could not remember itâ (72), conveniently sidestepping the possibility that they were following orders that they had explicitly been told they did not have to obey. Even if they truly did not hear, the fact remains that many still continue shooting, even as other comrades asked to be reassigned. Moreover, those who do ask for new duties are given them, or âadvised to âslink awayââ (68) by their superior officers, all of them âsuffer[ing] no consequencesâ (66). In this, the argument that the men had no choice but to follow orders or face terrible consequences appears decidedly shaky. It is important to note in regard to this that although they receive no official punishment, those who step out are subjected to some complaints from their comrades, who abuse them âwith remarks such as âshitheadâ and âweaklingâ to express their disgustâ (66). This suggests that one of the biggest factors in the menâs decision to shoot is âthe pressure of conformityâthe basic identification of men in uniform with their comrades and the strong urge not to separate themselves from the group by stepping outâ (71).
In the unit, to step out would be âadmitting that one was âtoo weakâ or âcowardlyââ (72) and several policemen explicitly frame their decision in these terms, with one blaming his own âvery weak natureâ (66). This idea of not shooting Jews as a weakness or failure on the part of the abstaining policeman is a recurrent motif that Browning uses to problematize the notion of weakness. He points to a policeman who will later admit that he took part in the shooting precisely because â[he] was cowardly,â and suggests that this man is âmore aware of what truly required courageâ (72). This motif also intersects with the theme of anti-Semitism because, while the men may not have âconsciously adopted the anti-Semitic doctrines of the regime,â it certainly appears that their âconcern for their standing in the eyes of their comrades [is] not matched by any sense of human ties with their victims,â as they consider Jews to be âoutside their circle of human obligation and responsibilityâ (73).
As such, those who ask to be reassigned rarely do so because of â[p]olitically and ethically motivated oppositionâ or âopposition to the regimeâs anti-Semitism in particularâ (75), but rather are expressing âsheer physical revulsion against what they [are] doingâ (74). This echoes the motifs of weakness and sickness and also picks up another key motif: alcohol. The consumption of alcohol both during and after the shootings is a recurrent pattern throughout the book. After the first massacre, the men are âdepressed, angered, embittered, and shaken,â and barely eat but drink âheavilyâ (69). Alcohol, then, becomes another form of psychological distancing for the men and another way to get through the physical revulsion at mass murder. Indeed, an âincreasing dependence on alcohol [is] not unusual in the battalion,â and one policeman who does not drink observes that his âcomrades [drink] so much solely because of the many shootings of Jews, for such a life [is] quite intolerable soberâ (82).
At the second massacre, the Hiwis also drink heavily and are ânot just liquored up after the event to help them forget but drunk from the startâ (85). Upon arrival, they âimmediately [âŚ] [take] a breakâ and begin drinking âbottles of vodkaâ (80); they pause shooting and drinking only when they fall âinto a drunken stuporâ (83). Apart from a couple of hours in which they have to cover for the drunken auxiliaries, the Hiwisâ taking over of the shooting allows further distance for the men of Battalion 101. This leaves the men with âlittle if any sense of participation in the killing,â especially as, when they do briefly take over the shooting, they do not âhave to pair off with their victims face to face,â so the âpersonal tie between victim and killed [is] severedâ (85).
The second massacre is also significantly different in that the men involved do not âbear the âburden of choiceâ that Trapp had offered them so starkly on the occasion of the first massacre,â and therefore do not have to âlive with the clear awareness that what they [have] done had been unavoidableâ (86). As Browning alludes to, this brings things full circle again, because âfollowing orders reinforce[s] the natural tendency to conform to the behavior of oneâs comradesâ (87). This, again, adds complexity to the question of choice, and also recalls the significant theme of the pressure to conform.



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