The Russian front and the problem of Wittenstein

Photo (propaganda postcard): Artist PC Karl Bloßfeld, Hauptverbandplatz einer Sanitätskompanie (main dressing station of a medical company [on the front lines]).

The problem of Wittenstein is substantial and significant. Beginning in 1947, Wittenstein (along with Inge Scholl and Franz Josef Müller) inserted himself into White Rose resistance, putting himself into scenarios where he did not belong.

Instead of a narrative, I’ll write this in bullet-point format (except for the introduction). Details, and the greater problem of Wittenstein in general, are covered in Evolution of Memory. This post is excerpted from Chapter 11 of that publication.

Introduction:

In addition to his photographs (no comment at this time), Wittenstein has presented to anyone who will accept them two forms of “proof” that he was part of White Rose resistance.

First, his reconstructed diary. Allegedly a transcription of his actual diary, it was typed on an IBM Selectric typewriter. Well, it was typed, with a ton of handwritten corrections. In January 2001, Wittenstein wanted to demonstrate for me how brilliant a mind he has, so he typed and wrote at the same time – handwriting with one hand, typing with the other.

Problem is, he did neither well. His letters – and this reconstructed diary – are a mess. Typos combined with henscratch. See image below.

Further, it is clear that the “reconstructed diary” is not a reconstruction of anything written between 1933-1945. Wittenstein spoke of current events from the 1980s-1990s. He wrote things like, “On this topic, a historically important remark, especially for non-German readers (and likely also for younger Germans)…” Even worse when he wrote, “Perhaps here one should remark for American readers that in Germany, students primarily did not live in dormitories…” In his reconstructed diary. From “1942, 1943.”

Next, Wittenstein produced a supposedly non-reconstructed diary. It’s not typed on an IBM Selectric, not even on an electric typewriter. It’s clearly typed on an old manual typewriter. See image below. Note empty space at bottom of document. That's in the original.

Two things puzzle me about this “diary,” and how it was produced, before I even talk about the content of that document.

a) Part of it is not typed on a German typewriter. He wrote “Ueber nacht fuhr ich hinaus…” instead of “Über Nacht…” And the lower-case umlauted words similarly are not typed as über, but rather as uber with backspace to type a quote mark over the u. Anyone who ever had to write a German term paper on an American typewriter knows what I’m talking about. – Note: This appears to be the same typewriter he used to type his 1947 essay.

b) And yet, other parts of it are typed on a manual German typewriter. Wittenstein made far more handwritten corrections to the parts typed on the non-German typewriter, similar to the corrections he would later make when typing on the IBM Selectric.

The non-reconstructed diary is heavily censored. Nothing is dated, except for e.g. “26.11.” (November 26), no year. It also appears that he photocopied an original document (badly photocopied), and then cut and pasted onto another sheet of paper. The entire ‘non-reconstructed’ diary is a jumble. It clearly tells the story he wanted to tell, with scissors even more powerful than anything Inge Scholl owned.

In the one-page excerpt pictured above, Wittenstein wrote that he went to the movies with a theater student and they saw Tabu. A Google search for this renders even something as simple as a movie problematic. Tabu was an unsuccessful American film released in 1931. Original negative was sent to Germany and destroyed. During World War II, the USA mistakenly thought the film was a German production and confiscated the film. It was not re-released until 1948. Does 1948 date Wittenstein’s non-reconstructed diary, typed on an American typewriter?

Not to mention that that particular section reads more like a letter than a diary. It ends with, “It’s much too much to tell [you] here, I will have to tell you orally, ja?”

That Detlef Bald – a supposed military historian! – would accept these documents as historical record, and that Aufbau Verlag would publish and defend Bald’s book? Shameful. Especially when part of the reconstructed diary notes, ‘As I told Detlef Bald…’

Note: Detlef Bald accepted Wittenstein’s reconstructed diary entries without following up e.g. re Keller, whom Wittenstein identified as close friend and mentor, the same Keller who had been at the abbey in Beuron but was the Gestapo’s V-Mann at the Vatican. At the same time that Wittenstein identified him as a close friend and confidant. That’s in my White Rose history. It’s not in Bald’s.-- Read my review of Detlef Bald's book based on Wittenstein's supposed "diaries."

Stated reasons for Russian front:

Wittenstein could not even correctly state the reason they were sent to the Russian front. It was a Feldfamulatur, a clinical rotation at a field hospital. In 1947-1948, he claimed it was Frontbewährung, proving oneself under fire on the front lines. Frontbewährung was generally meted out to two categories of soldiers:
- Those who served at the front in lieu of prison sentences. Willi Graf was offered the option of Frontbewährung instead of execution. He declined.
- Those who wanted to move up the ranks, especially after December 1943 when Frontbewährung was a prerequisite for appointment as a NS-Führungsoffizier, Wittenstein’s status in 1944.
He incorrectly stated that either Feldfamulatur or Frontbewährung was a special honor reserved for those who had already been on the front lines once, “whereby not a few of them had already received decorations for bravery.” Not sure where that definition came from.
Beginning in 1993, Wittenstein’s story changed. At Siena College, he stated that medical students were sent to the front lines because the authorities did not know what to do with thousands of medical students in uniform during the long summer vacation. So in 1942, they decided to send them to the front. He said he didn’t understand why German universities simply didn’t move to trimesters. Two problems with this:
- They had in fact moved to trimesters – for Spring Semester 1939. In March 1997, Wittenstein compounded his error by stating that universities did not move to trimesters until 1944. He bore down on his error in his 1997 essay for History Place, wherein he noted that if only they would have moved to trimesters earlier, they would have completed their medical studies sooner. Again: This was long done, and Hans Scholl even calculated how much faster he’d graduate since they had moved to trimesters.
- During previous summer breaks, medical students had performed their clinical rotations at military or civilian hospitals in Germany.
Wittenstein continued with his 1993 fiction all the way through until his final “speech” at Oregon State University in April 2009. No let-up.
In Wittenstein’s “reconstructed diary” – remember, supposedly a transcript of his actual diary – he wrote the following: “Then came Russia. The authorities suddenly found themselves with thousands of medical students and a three-month-long semester vacation. Instead of hitting upon the idea of converting semesters to trimesters, whereby they could have produced doctors in five years instead of six – doctors they badly needed. So they hit upon the idea of sending medical students to Russia in uniform during the summer for a so-called “Frontbewährung.” ― On this topic, a historically important remark, especially for non-German readers (and likely also for younger Germans). In contrast to the Western Allies who drafted doctors as officers with rank commensurate with their position and knowledge, in Germany doctors were initially drafted as common soldiers, weapon in hand. They had to serve for six months like this before they were transferred to a medical function. Only after so many were killed or wounded did this change. But they were mostly deployed in a junior rank. Therefore it could happen that in a field hospital, a famous professor of surgery operated as a lieutenant, and a colonel would be assigned to him as his assistant…”

Farewell party on July 22, 1942:

The only thing Wittenstein wrote or said about the farewell party? From his 1947/48 essay: “Professor Huber was present at a get-together before they were assigned to Russia [nach Russland abkommandiert]. At that get-together, the possibility of a more active approach had been debated.” That summary is beyond absurd.
Wittenstein could not identify all the people in the famous Ostbahnhof photograph that he took! He did not know Raimund Samüller, which only emphasizes how little he knew the circle of friends.

Traveling to the Russian Front:

Nowhere is Wittenstein’s dishonesty more evident than in his fictionalized version of traveling to the Russian front. During our three-day interview with him and his wife in January 2001, we had long completed the section devoted to the Russian front. We were discussing the events of February 18, 1943, when his wife interrupted and took over the interview – the strangest thing I’ve ever experienced.

I was asking what he remembered of the events of February 18. Initially he – and then both of them – said they wanted to talk about the Russian front. We had already covered that, but Christel Bejenke would not stop. “What was your impression? How did the guards react? Who smoked?” It was as if they had a prerecorded script and I was preventing them from fulfilling it.

It started with who traveled in the train compartment to the Russian front.

Wittenstein did not mention this topic until his 1993 speech at Siena College. Even then, he didn’t talk about the compartment, merely that Willi Graf had not known anyone in the White Rose until he traveled with them (allegedly including himself, Wittenstein) together to the Russian front. Wrong.
When I sent Wittenstein the second draft of my White Rose history in 1996, he replied, “You hardly mention me in connection with Russia. After all, we rode in the same train compartment and were together in Wjasma etc. for a while before we were separated.” (December 1, 1996 letter) At the time, I was a White Rose novice and believed him.
In the same 12/1/1996 letter, he was upset that I included Hubert Furtwängler and “Saamueller” (sic, his letter) as “Roses.” As far as Wittenstein was concerned, only Hans, Alex, and he were “Roses.” Willi maybe. After Russia. He had no clue that Willi Graf had become close to Hans, Alex, and Christl the first week of June 1942!
In his 1997 interview with Carol Stubert, Shoah Foundation, Wittenstein said that he, Hans Scholl, and Alexander Schmorell were “together for three weeks in the train compartment.”
By the time he wrote his 1997 History Place essay, he added Willi Graf to the train compartment.
But in January 2001, the story changed. He then said that in the summer of 1942, Schmorell, Scholl, and he were in the same train compartment, and that Willi Graf did not join them until Warsaw. He repeated this later in the interview, adding that that had to mean that Hubert, Willi, and Raimund were in another compartment.
In a 2002 essay, Wittenstein massaged this story a bit. Now: Hans, Alex, and he were in the same compartment, but Willi and Hubert were in another, no Raimund. “But we saw each other often.”
In 2003, after Detlef Bald’s book came under fire for its multitude of inaccuracies, Aufbau Verlag defended its author and his primary non-primary source. “He [Wittenstein] spent the three-week (sic) trip from Munich to Gshatsk with Scholl and Schmorell in the same compartment.”
By the time Wittenstein contributed to Boston College’s anthology about resistance in 2004, he re-added Hubert Furtwängler to White Rose friends, as well as Wolf Jaeger, but no Raimund Samüller.
In correspondence dated April 28, 2004, he wrote, “Naturally not everyone, myself included, was in the same compartment all the time. We could namely try to sleep only on wooden benches, the floor, or in the luggage rack [Gepäcknetz] – the latter was very painful. After I tried to sleep in the luggage rack, I remembered the hammock that Josef Söhngen had given me for Russia. It was not easy to find a place. So I had to look around and spent many nights in other parts of the train, i.e. at certain times I was not always in the same ‘compartment.’ Interesting that Furtwängler only names five people, but six people fit in a compartment! Who was the sixth?”

Wittenstein’s insistence that he traveled with them is all the more unreasonable when one observes that no one who was actually there noted his presence.

Hubert Furtwängler’s diary from that time recorded the five who were together as: Willi Graf, Hans Scholl, Alexander Schmorell, Raimund Samüller (he wrote it Sammueller), and himself. That is borne out by both the photograph taken at the Ostbahnhof on July 23, 1942, and the picture of the five friends eating.

Wittenstein took both photographs, but in neither one was anyone in the group looking at him. This is an important thread to follow — Wittenstein’s pictures were always from the point of view of an observer, not as a friend saying the German equivalent of cheese!

Similarly, Hans Scholl’s letter to Professor Kurt Huber dated August 17, 1942 was from “Hans Scholl, and Alexander Schmorell, and Willi Graf, and Hubert Furtwängler.” Not even a mention of Wittenstein in the body of the letter.

And although the five young men were split up during their three months in Russia, it was always this core of four who are named over and over. They sought out one another’s company, sometimes walking long distances to talk or check up on one another.

Every time, their letters and diary entries noted the effort to keep the friendship alive on the Russian front. And every time, it is “Hans Scholl, and Alexander Schmorell, and Willi Graf, and Hubert Furtwängler” who called, or went fishing, or played skat, or drank milk, or danced with the Russians, or told stories, or comforted, or shared candy, or teased, or argued, or hiked.

Wittenstein was never mentioned. Not once.

Other issues regarding the Russian front, covered in detail in Evolution, summarized here:

Who helped whom and how during the journey. This was a well-rehearsed part of Wittenstein’s narrative, again, not supported by narratives from anyone else. At least, not with him in the picture. – From my interview, and with prompting from his wife, Wittenstein added, “Alex communicated with the Russian people and Russian forced labor whenever they came to the train.” His wife asked for his impression. “They were trying to barter with us for food.” Wife: “How did the guards react to these Russian and Polish people?” Wittenstein: “They didn’t interfere, except for two incidents.” – Yes, it was a strange interview.
Warsaw as an open city. From his 1993 speech at Siena College, to his 1997 Shoah Foundation interview and his 1997 History Place essay, to my interview with him, to a published essay in 2002, Wittenstein claimed that Warsaw was an open city and that Germany had bombed it in violation of the Geneva Convention. He made a big deal out of this, not sure why. In April 2004, when confronted with the fact that Warsaw had not been an open city, Wittenstein responded that he had merely been repeating what he had been told. His History Place essay was never changed.
Warsaw Ghetto. Wittenstein’s claims make one wonder about his time in Warsaw. To begin with, the five soldiers who were traveling together recorded 1-1/2 days in Warsaw, no more. Wittenstein insisted and argued endlessly that it was three days. There are so many issues with Wittenstein’s narrative about Warsaw, I will limit comments to the highlights only. To know more, check out Evolution, or Johannes Tuchel’s excellent 2003 review of Detlef Bald’s totally inaccurate book, or Armin Ziegler’s equally excellent review of Bald’s book, or my own much shorter review. Neither Tuchel’s nor Ziegler’s is online, but we have a copy of each in our archives.
- No Ukrainian soldiers as Wittenstein claimed.
- Wittenstein later said that maybe his photos of “Ghetto” were actually Łódź, not Warsaw (which of course upends everything he said or wrote about his time on the Russian front “with White Rose”).
- He could not have seen the things he said he saw, because the wall would have blocked his view.
- Some of the incidents he “recalled” were actually from Lanzmann’s 1985 Shoah film and did not take place in July 1942.
- The “reconstructed diary” and non-reconstructed diary do not mention any of the stories he told that Detlef Bald repeated, especially as regards the White Rose friends.
Travel to the front, time elapsed. One thing Wittenstein has insisted upon, perhaps more than anything else, is that “the five of them” sat in that train compartment for three weeks. By 2004, he modified his statement a little, saying the three weeks included the layover in Warsaw and the time it took to march to the field hospital. Wittenstein would not budge from his three-week statement. But Willi Graf’s very accurate diary noted they left Munich on July 23, 1942, train to Warsaw then V’yasma, marching to Gzhatsk (field hospital), where they arrived on August 3, 1942. That is a total of eleven days, twelve days max.
Where they served. On August 4, 1942, Hans Scholl noted that they had been assigned to HVP Plankenhorn, working with infectious diseases and other undesirable wards. HVP Plankenhorn was almost directly on the front lines. He and Alex applied for a transfer to a field hospital not so close to those front lines and were denied. Although the five friends were often separated and placed in different field hospitals, they were always close to the front lines. In contrast, Wittenstein served his Feldfamulatur in a field hospital a 60 km (36 miles) from the front lines. He rarely (if ever!) saw the others.
Alex’s diphtheria. He knew nothing about it when he read my second draft in 1996. Instead of admitting that, he launched into a lecture about how German doctors treated diphtheria in 1942. During the January 2001 interview, he voluntarily expanded on this to state that they had discussed that if any of them survived typhus, that person would assassinate Hitler. It was a convoluted story. It’s all in Evolution.
Discussions about what they would do re leaflets once they returned. Of course, Wittenstein insinuated himself into all of their conversations, even though he was 60 km from the front lines, and they were directly in the line of fire. Once again, not one person – not Hans, Alex, Willi, Hubert, Raimund (who didn’t spend much time at the same field hospitals) – ever mentioned Wittenstein as taking part in a meal, much less a conversation. He was completely invisible.
Wittenstein’s uniform. I wish a real military historian who paid attention to detail would study Wittenstein’s photographs and decipher them properly. The one that intrigues me: Wittenstein leaning out the train window. He showed it to Carol Stuberg (Shoah Foundation) and to me, and it shows up in most publications where he features himself. He has epaulets on his shoulders, and a silver braid draped from one epaulet on his right side. He is also wearing very long dress gloves. It’s hard to see what medals or stripes are on his sleeves. No one else on that trip to the Russian front was decked out same as Wittenstein. – The silver braid was likely for marksmanship, but that is an educated guess.
Photographs, not my full question. In January 2001, Wittenstein showed me a very small selection of his photographs from Russia. Twenty-two photographs in all. In none of those photographs was there a single person from the White Rose circle. Wittenstein showed Stuberg a photo of Hans and Alex (he did not show this one to me). The two men stood in a courtyard of sorts, full of people. Alex is looking down. Neither is looking at Wittenstein. They seemed unaware of his presence. Stuberg asked him about it. He replied, “Alex Schmorell and Hans Scholl during our sojourn in Russia in summer of 1942.” Stuberg followed up. “Can you tell us please which is which, who is on the left and…” Wittenstein: “(Interrupting) Scholl is on the right, Schmorell on the left.” It was an odd exchange. – Based on his numbering sequences, fewer than 10% of Wittenstein’s photographs from Russia have been viewed by scholars and researchers. – This is only part one of my larger Wittenstein question, which will remain unasked for now.
Return trip to Munich. Of all of Wittenstein’s distortions, his stories about the return trip from Russia to Munich make the least sense. He did not mention it in his 1997 Shoah Foundation interview. In February 1997, commenting on the second draft of my White Rose history, he stated, “By the way, you wonder how we came back. Certainly not together, and for the most part in a cattle car with straw on the floor.” During my January 2001 interview, he said they were in different cattle cars, but that they saw one another before the train left Russia. (No support for that claim.) Same interview, he stated, “My train ended up in Ulm. There I sat in empty barracks. I didn’t know whether I would end up in Munich or not.” No one else “ended up in Ulm.” Clearly they did not return together. When he showed me a photo of the cattle car with maybe 15-20 soldiers in it, there was not a single person from the White Rose circle in the picture. But – for his 2004 Boston College essay, Wittenstein wrote, “During our service at the Russian front, I was separated from the others for a while because I was transferred to the Division hospital. We all returned to Munich in the fall of 1942.” – For what it’s worth, we know in glorious detail about that return trip. Hans Scholl, Alexander Schmorell, Willi Graf, Hubert Furtwängler, and Hans Goltermann, these five made the trip home together. They enjoyed every minute. [My impertinent questions: Did Wittenstein not know the Scholls were from Ulm? Why didn’t he look up Sophie?]

I’m all but ignoring the following in this post, which are simply absurd assertions on Wittenstein’s part:

His tales of Alex translating for them, and mingling with the Russians. He wasn’t there, so he couldn’t have participated in those evenings. Again, not one person mentions him.
His stories about atrocities he personally witnessed. In 1997, he told Stuberg (Shoah Foundation) that he personally saw Russian women being beaten. “And we saw lots of things that we were not, not very nice, to put it mildly.” Despite Stuberg’s best efforts, she could not get him to relate a single other incident he personally witnessed.
Accounts of executions by Einsatzgruppen that he allegedly witnessed. From 1997-2004, he related these stories as if he and the White Rose friends had seen them. Prisoners, no they were Jews, no they were whole convoys of trucks loaded with people, no it was a mass execution! He witnessed it! With the rest of them. In my January 2001 interview with him, he said he told a Red Cross driver to follow the convoy of trucks into the forest so he could see it. Finally when confronted by Armin Ziegler in 2005, who frankly disbelieved him from the beginning, Wittenstein said it was only he, and he was with other medics in a Red Cross ambulance, and that previously they had seen convoys of trucks, so when he heard gunshots, he “knew” what had happened. He stuck with that story through April 2009.
His fairy tale about how they “went Russian.” Barely worth writing about. He claimed that after they returned, they all identified as Russians. Maybe Hans, Willi, and Hubert did (and Alex, of course). But Wittenstein? Not the man who was a NS-Führungsoffizier, a fanatical adherent to National Socialist ideals. Hardly.

In this post, I have addressed only the parts of Wittenstein’s story that relate to the series about the Russian front in 1941-1943. This is a small corner of the larger Wittenstein problem, wherein he inserted himself into the leaflets, the graffiti campaign, their conversations, their meals, their lives.

I’ll never forget an argument early on, when I still believed him and deemed his testimony credible. We discussed “their” favorite places to eat, and why they liked those places. I mentioned Humplmayr for special occasions, too expensive most of the time. And Brenessel (Stinging Nettle), Deutscher Kaiser (German Emperor), and the Bodega as their favorite everyday hangouts.

Wittenstein contradicted me, almost as if I had stated that Berlin was the capital of Bavaria. He told me what their favorite places to eat really were. I stood my ground – database! – and said, no, especially the Bodega, they ate there a lot.

So Wittenstein wrote Hubert Furtwängler a letter, telling him about my supposedly silly mistake and asking Furtwängler to set me straight. Before too long, Furtwängler’s response. She’s right, we ate at the Bodega all the time.

That was my first hint that something may not be right, that I had to proceed with caution.

If you’re researching White Rose resistance, learn from my mistakes and do the same.

If you're interested in what Wittenstein said during our January 2001 interview, you can buy it here: Two Interviews: Hartnagel and Wittenstein. Wittenstein signed off on my transcript. I footnoted all edit he made when he reviewed this interview transcript.--DEH.