Untelling Wittenstein

In the earliest days of my White Rose research, Jürgen Wittenstein awed me. This man whose photographs made White Rose friends come alive, how lucky I was to know him! To correspond with him! To visit with him face to face in Pennsylvania (I paid for his lodging at the four-star Desmond Hotel in Malvern, and felt lucky to have that privilege)!

His stories of their work and friendship felt so very real.

Until they did not. Until one by one, oops-moments, wrongly remembered events, misnamed persons, changing narratives made me question his veracity.

When Traute declined Wittenstein’s invitation to join me at my interview of him in January 2001, I wondered. I wondered no longer when I spoke with her afterwards, and she explained that they had avoided Wittenstein from June 1940 onwards, because he proudly wore his NSDAP party pin. They could not trust him. Not even Hans Scholl, who frequently would hang out with known Nazis. Even he avoided Wittenstein.

I am halfway through the second edition of Evolution of Memory: Historical Revisionism as Seen in the Words of George J. (“Jürgen”) Wittenstein. The foundational work is nearly done—reformatting the first edition in preparation for layering on Wittenstein’s correspondence with Armin Ziegler and other post-2010 documents. The new information obliterates Wittenstein’s insertion of himself into White Rose resistance.

I thought you may enjoy reading a couple of excerpts from this second-edition-in-progress. Text may change slightly in the final version after edits. But you will understand why untelling Wittenstein’s lies is crucial if we are to have a clearer understanding of what those friends did and who they were.

Three sections:

The 2010 warning that this book could ruin my reputation
Talking openly about hard matters
The Steffahn-Wittenstein battle (1992). Spoiler alert: Steffahn was right.

The 2010 warning that this book could ruin my reputation

When I started work on this project in 2010, a German acquaintance (not Armin Ziegler!) advised me to shelve it. He warned that it could ruin my reputation in German academic circles, as it would likely be perceived as “too negative” and as an unwarranted attack on a person who (he said) was central to White Rose resistance.

His counsel gave me pause. I already knew of Wittenstein’s bullying tactics dating back to 1992 and his exchange with Harald Steffahn. When anyone challenged the veracity of his story, he mounted a campaign—either directly or indirectly—against them until they backed down. I have never known anyone to change his or her mind about Wittenstein even as they have abandoned their projects. They simply do not want the headache and walk away.

But this was different. I thought this person was not influenced by Wittenstein (I was wrong), and his words concerned me. I do care about my reputation. I have toiled too many years researching White Rose to throw that effort away on a single project.

In the end, I decided to proceed. I believe that Wittenstein’s narrative should be removed from White Rose history, his pictures understood as nothing more than snapshots taken of people he knew but whose circle excluded him (with appropriate questions raised about those photographs).

But his narrative should be removed so the story can be corrected, so we may better understand their work and goals.

The primary value of Wittenstein’s account can be seen in the fact that these young people (and the older friends of their circle) lived their lives encircled by people just like Wittenstein, people they may have known, even formerly enjoyed on a social basis, but who could not be trusted.

These people may have worn Party pins (as Wittenstein did), or they may have simply been “convinced” Nazis (like Erika Reiff), making get-togethers less open, less free-for-all when they were around. Anyone who was not 100% reliable had to be 100% distrusted. Hans Scholl’s failure to observe that rule with Gisela Schertling led to the unfortunate arrests of many of the friends.

Contrary to Wittenstein’s claim that the White Rose was built up “according to Communist principles” of three, with Hans Scholl the only person who knew everything that was going on, this was a group that acted by consensus. When they were together, they put all their cards on the table. They kept few secrets from one another.

Wittenstein’s speeches, lectures, and essays negatively impacted White Rose historiography. It’s not simply that he whitewashed his own Nazi past by insinuating himself into this circle. He also changed—for the worse—their story.

He added uncorroborated legend. The quote—first “movement,” then “revolution,” and ending at “movement”—attributed to Alexander Schmorell and himself had no source but Wittenstein.

He continued Angelika Probst’s execution fiction (one she believed to be true based on the chaplain’s statements) even though the story was abandoned by serious scholars post-transcripts.

He insisted upon his “Beilstein escape” notion, even though it was not supported by evidence that his “friends” knew of it, or if they did, that they believed him.

He appended his “graffiti in the restrooms” myth to their glorious, brazen, daring graffiti operation.

He added wrongly-defined concepts. Because of Robert Mohr, Inge Aicher-Scholl, and Wittenstein, Sippenhaft is often falsely understood as something consistently applied to White Rose families, when that was not the case.

He limited the understanding and even changed the translation of Frontbewährung to mean the clinical rotation to which the soldier-students were assigned in July 1942, instead of its more serious and deadly meaning to young German men in the 1940s.

He stirred up contention on fine points in an effort to have his point of view accepted. Many White Rose histories either omitted “who was in which train compartment” on the way to Russia or noted the travel companions as they themselves recorded it. Wittenstein vigorously attacked those views in an effort to place himself in their midst.

Wittenstein argued with scholars over the length of the trip to the Russian front, despite clear-cut evidence from others on the trip.

He insisted on his version of events for January 13, 1943, such as holding the Gau student leader hostage at gunpoint, even though multiple accounts do not include that point.

Wittenstein argued on behalf of his narrative, even when that narrative was completely inconsequential. As Steffahn learned with “the location of Ulm,” it did not matter whether the point was important or even if Wittenstein were wrong (which he usually was): His perspective was the only one that mattered. To him.

The above examples represent only the highlights of the over-300 pages of “testimony” contained in this book.

These and other parts of Wittenstein’s narrative have been cited time and again in serious White Rose histories, as if they merit equal consideration with the reports of people who participated in White Rose resistance. When Wittenstein’s assertions contradicted e.g., Willi Graf’s diary entries or Sophie Scholl’s letters, his comments were rarely challenged.

Best case, Wittenstein’s erroneous statements were ignored. Infrequently has anyone written, “Wittenstein said X, but the historical record shows Y.” Instead, Michael Kater, Ruth Bernadette Melon, John Michalczyk—to name but a few—incorporated Wittenstein’s narrative into their histories without question.

Too often, we think of “historical revisionism” in terms of Holocaust denial. Writers like David Irving come to mind.

But history was more often rewritten in subtle shades of gray by individuals whose “artificial memory” varnished an uncomfortable past. Most of the time, these fictions were relatively harmless (“relatively” meaning only as regards the historical record). Most of the time, the impact of these fictions affected only one’s immediate family and the turmoil that arose as grandchildren and great-grandchildren opened locked trunks in the attic and checked on the provenance of their ancestor’s artwork.

When that “artificial memory” was attached to the historical record, unquestioned and unchecked, it became a cancer.

Since Wittenstein’s “artificial memory” has been part of White Rose “history” for so long, it has become extraordinarily difficult to excise it, to give voice to authentic testimony, to properly place him outside their circle.

It is indeed possible to correct histories once written wrong. Few people in the US believe any longer that George Washington chopped down a cherry tree. Rigorous historical research has remedied views of the Founding Fathers as devout Christians who owned no slaves. Thorough accounts of the July 20, 1944 resistance movement have depicted those men and women in portraits less black and white, more in line with the complexity of their political beliefs and less-virtuous personalities.

Biblical accounts similarly do not omit Moses’ anger, King David’s affair with Bathsheba and the indirect execution of her husband, King Solomon’s arrogance, Jacob’s deceit, or Samson’s thing for Delilah.

In all these cases, the historical record has been corrected or told accurately in the first place without diminishing our appreciation for the achievements of the Founding Fathers, without lessening our respect for the military men who—for whatever reason—risked their own lives in a vain attempt to overthrow Hitler’s regime. We can see King David’s blemishes or Samson’s thing for Delilah as part of their humanity, and certainly without inferring their shortcomings onto their society as a whole.

Removing Wittenstein’s sugary-sweet (and self-serving) narrative from White Rose history makes their story a little darker, to be sure. His scripted version felt more satisfying. Everything was nice and neat, with a well-thought-out beginning and end, a good plot line.

Yet: White Rose resistance was anything but nice and neat, well-thought-out. Its beginning and its end followed no script, defied all logical plot lines.

But it is what happened. Discrediting Wittenstein does not diminish their heroism, their utter nobility, any more than understanding Sally Hemings changes our view of the Constitution.

Dr. Traute Page nee Lafrenz was concerned about talking of Wittenstein’s NSDAP Party membership and wearing his Party pin and their negative reaction to him once he wore that pin. She worried that all that would somehow dishonor her friends. That it could be used to discredit everything they had done, what they had died for.

On the contrary. Talking about these things honors them all the more. It demonstrates that her friends undertook this backbreaking effort while surrounded by people they could not trust. That their line in the sand excluded even people they had previously enjoyed socially—and that those political considerations mattered more to them than fine dining with a moneyed acquaintance.

If—as my German associate feared—writing a book like this ruins my reputation… That possibility says more about the state of scholarship (or the reception of scholarship) than it does about this book.

I have to believe that despite the feel-good nature of Wittenstein’s narrative, most true scholars search for and write as close to historical truth as they can, with no room for legend.

It is to those scholars that this book is dedicated.

Talking openly about hard matters

Points about Wittenstein’s historical revisionism may be well-taken in a historical context, but I am more concerned about why this matters. The relevance of the issues presented by Wittenstein’s narrative extended beyond his personal life story, White Rose resistance, or even the Shoah.

Self-serving autobiographies, oral histories that distort the past, “exoneration” from past sins by “official” channels, perpetuation of legend: We see elements of these topics in daily life. It’s in our face every day in TV news reports, political influences, political white papers, blatant lies, and social media.

The John Birch Society reinvented itself in a kinder, gentler format known online as The New American, but it is still the same old John Birch Society, founded by the Koch family. Jerry Falwell’s Moral Majority may have been officially disbanded, but it still exists in many forms such as (but hardly limited to) the Tea Party Movement and its successor, MAGA. And alt-right groups often hide behind anti-immigrant or anti-Islam rhetoric to mask their broader agenda, while alt-left groups shout their own particular brand of hate.

Daily, we see politicians and pundits rewriting personal, political, or professional biographies to whitewash their past, to make themselves acceptable to their listeners. When I wrote the first edition of Evolution in 2010/2011, Rush Limbaugh was on marriage #4 while speaking about family values. He spouted anti-LGBTQ+ rants while paying Sir Elton John $1 million to perform at that fourth wedding.

In 2010/2011, I felt it was necessary to give specific examples of the ways in which Bush-Cheney reinvented themselves and their views. In 2025, I would have to work hard to find a few examples of ways the current administration has not reinvented itself. They practice historical revisionism on a daily basis, both regarding our nation’s history as well as their life stories. And don't get me started on paid media influencers, who have no moral compass, but change message and identity on a whim, depending on who's paying them. They're the scourge of all political discourse, hardly limited to a single side of the aisle.

These serve as recent examples only of a wider trend to reinvent instead of explain, to omit uncomfortable phases in life instead of discussing one’s growth. It is one thing to do so as a private citizen—every one of us has made decisions or changed our minds or done things we regret. It is quite another to do so when seeking public office or attempting to influence public policy.

Even Wittenstein’s denazification saga has application in the early 21st century. De-Ba’athification, which specifically invoked denazification in its opening salvo, sought to revise the 1945 plan to correct its shortcomings. For instance, de-Ba’athification included a provision requiring Ba’ath party members to denounce the party before exoneration. Re-education and reconstruction were given as reasons for retaining Ba’ath party members who would be exonerated by the process, who were to be exempted from the general rule prohibiting their service in government, education, and business.

Even with the thoroughly documented successes and failures of denazification, de-Ba’athification broke down and was eventually scrapped.

Perhaps the Bush administration felt that American experiences in 1945 meant that the U.S. did not need as much time developing a strategy. Less than sixty days was provided in which to flesh out a good plan that would rid Iraq of Saddam Hussein’s ruling party. That proved to be insufficient time.

We are likely approaching another era when denazification concepts will once again be unearthed and dusted off. Maybe third time’s a charm and we can finally get it right.

Finally, not all conflicting information is found in Globally Important Matters. Is coffee good for you, or bad? Is the iPhone or the Android the best smartphone, or will BlackBerry make a comeback? Should you buy stock in ExxonMobil or put your money in an IRA?

Every day we are asked to make decisions based on conflicting information. Buy the bag of frozen corn for $2, or three cans of corn for $2.10? Rent an apartment that includes a washer and dryer for $2000 a month, or pay $1800 and go to a Laundromat? Major in business administration with a higher chance of being hired after graduation, or major in German knowing that job choices may be more limited, but it’s what you love? Posh Puffs or Kleenex? Advil or Tylenol? Dogs or cats?

We will not all make the same decisions. In fact, our own decisions may be different from one day to the next, depending on context. But we need to be aware of how we make the decision. Indeed, we need to be aware that we are making a decision at all.

Once we learn how to take our “Givens,” work them step by step to arrive at a “Conclusion,” then and only then can we begin to take apart historical documents and put them back together in a form that makes sense.

If we are to understand history and its applications to us today, we need to hone our ability to think rationally and to make sound judgments.

I will end the second edition of Evolution of Memory with the same request found in the Introduction: If you see anything that is incorrect, if you have new information that would add to our understanding of Wittenstein’s historiography, please contact me.

Although I have worked hard to ensure that I quoted Wittenstein correctly in every case, if you find a misquote, please let me know.

This truly does matter. For all the reasons cited above, and many more.

The “Revolution” Story, aka Harald Steffahn does battle with Wittenstein. And wins (long-term).

This exchange would be humorous if it did not so thoroughly and completely elucidate Wittenstein’s insistence on scorched earth when anyone dared to challenge his version of events. In the end, Harald Steffahn was proven correct and Wittenstein utterly wrong.

During his time in the Sanitätskompanie, Wittenstein met Alexander Schmorell. This is probably one of Wittenstein’s most oft-cited stories, as it appears in nearly every account Wittenstein gave about his life during the Third Reich.

The earliest version, 1947. And since this was a hotly-contested topic, I am parsing the translation for your benefit, that is, when there are unclear words, or where Wittenstein later disputed accounts stating ‘he never said that,’ I am including both my English translation and his original German vocabulary.

“During the last six months of military service, I met a student—Alexander Schmorell—to whom I was connected not only by personal-friendly dealings, but also by the same political attitudes. From this, an association of young students arose in that barracks [Kaserne] who had vowed [gelobt] to work against the false doctrine [Irrlehre] of National Socialism through personal resolve [Aufklärung]. At that time, the impact of one-on-one [work] appeared to us to be the best and safest way.—The expression that once jokingly circulated in this circle sounds odd [seltsam] today: ‘In ten years perhaps a sign will hang on the door of this room, From here, the movement continued! [Von hier aus nahm die Bewegung ihren Fortgang!]’.” <1947 speech>

A year later, that speech remained almost intact, except that Wittenstein omitted the following, which was in his 1947 speech: “The expression that once jokingly circulated in this circle sounds odd [seltsam] today: “In ten years, perhaps a sign [Schild] will hang on the door of this room, Von hier aus nahm die Bewegung ihren Fortgang! (From here, the movement continued!)” <1948 essay>

To summarize: In 1947, Wittenstein wrote that a sign would hang on the door of the room and that the inscription would read, “From here, the movement continued!” [Von hier aus nahm die Bewegung ihren Fortgang!] And in 1948, this section of the narrative disappeared.

In 1992-1993, Wittenstein’s story changed, causing his correspondence with Harald Steffahn and Uwe Naumann to become downright adversarial. If nothing else convinces us that Wittenstein’s reinvented persona was bogus, his no-prisoners policy regarding Alexander Schmorell, barracks/not-barracks, and what they were going to hang on the door (but which door?), would be slam-dunk evidence in a court of law.

The Lili Marlene saga started innocently enough. Wittenstein wanted Steffahn to change his information about where the sign was to be hung and what it would say. “Page 40. Last two lines of the first paragraph. Wrong. This inscription was never affixed to the ‘barrack gate’ [Kasernentor]. … Then Alex Schmorell said to me: ‘Maybe one day a sign will hang on this door (namely, of the room in which we slept), The revolution began here.’ Therefore that was, if you will, a precursor [Vorläufer] of the White Rose.”

Note that in Steffahn’s book, Steffahn wrote about the unusual friendship between Hans Scholl and Alexander Schmorell, unusual because the two young men were so different. Steffahn’s infamous "page 40" read: “The remark—that he and Hans Scholl ‘turned the stolid existence of life in the barracks upside down with numerous witty vagaries and pranks’—is apt. Now, barracks the world over are by their very nature humorless and normally do not permit such dealings. But it is certainly true that these two misfits used every opportunity to test regulations to their limits (with minimal risk), to defend their freedom past disciplinary resentment, and to practice human self-preservation. In spirit, but not in reality, they decorated the barrack gate in the ‘Capital of the Movement’ with an inscription of ironic double entendre: ‘From here, the movement continued’ [Von hier aus nahm die Bewegung ihren Fortgang].”

Steffahn would not tolerate Wittenstein’s absurd request. He told his publisher, “Page 40, end of first paragraph. Reading error. I wrote that the inscription was affixed ‘in spirit [im Geiste]’ to the barrack gate. In reality that would have been absurd.”

Wittenstein shot back. “Page 40. You did not reply to my correction, which you refer to as my ‘reading error’. I wrote you what the correct quotation was, [and] the location to which it referred. With your comment, you refuse to correct this historical quotation and to repeat it correctly!”

Uwe Naumann, Steffahn’s publisher, jumped into the fray, defending his writer. “Let me explain [the misunderstandings] by using an example: The passage at the top of page 40. You make a correction based on your memory of a conversation that took place between you and Alexander Schmorell. But Harald Steffahn quotes another conversation between Schmorell and Hans Scholl, documented in Richard Hanser’s book! How then please does a ‘falsification’ exist? In my opinion, there is no debate regarding the fact that a historian can and must choose the examples supporting his argumentation, at his own discretion—as long as he does not go against the facts.”

Naumann’s response only made Wittenstein angrier. He immediately responded to Naumann. “You allege that Mr. Steffahn did not go against the facts with his cite of the quotation by Alex Schmorell about the plaque (‘the revolution began here’), because allegedly that was from a conversation between Scholl and Schmorell, and it is so ‘documented in Richard Hanser’s book’ (I am quoting you here!). To this the following questions and statements:

“1. Is something that a writer who lives in the USA quotes from second or even third hand ‘documentation’?

“2. Why does Mr. Steffahn believe Mr. Hanser’s account, when I relate to him the real scene, and that this quotation was made to me by Schmorell? On what grounds? Shouldn’t he [rather] assume that an eye- and ear-witness who was directly involved is telling the truth? …

“3. And here in Mr. Steffahn’s invocation of Hanser is the greatest irony. Namely on page 126 of the original (English) edition, it says, ‘Juergen Wittenstein remembered a joke current in the group. Perhaps, in ten years, the jest went, a sign would be hung on the barracks door saying…’ NOTHING about a quotation made by Schmorell to Scholl. And Hanser translated my quotation incorrectly. There never was any talk about a Kaserne (barracks), but rather about the door in a barrack [Baracke, alt. barracks].

“SO MUCH AND SO FAR [for] Steffahn’s alleged documentation!

“[Wittenstein handwrote on my copy to point 3: ‘To the best of my knowledge, this and two others are the only corrections made in the second edition!’]” <Steffahn correspondence, February 14, 1993 letter to Uwe Naumann>

The heated debate ended there.

To summarize: Wittenstein insisted this was not the Kaserne or barracks, but rather about the door in a barrack [Baracke, alt. barracks]. That the sign was hung on the door of a barrack [Baracke]. That Schmorell had made the comment to him, not to Hans Scholl. And that the comment was: “The revolution began here,” not “From here, the movement continued” [Von hier aus nahm die Bewegung ihren Fortgang] as Steffahn had written.

In 1993, Wittenstein reinforced this version of events in his Siena speech. “This is where I met Alexander Schmorell: many talented, a gifted sculptor, much interested in literature and music, born in Russia, the son of a German physician and a Russian mother. We soon discovered our similar political leanings, and became close friends. Some of you may have read in one of the books about the White Rose, what Alex Schmorell said to me, pointing to the door of our room in the barracks: Maybe ten years from now there will be a plaque on this door which will read: ‘This is where the revolution began’.” <1993 Siena speech>

Between 1995 and 1996, Wittenstein made similar comments in his correspondence with me.

“Page 4: second paragraph. Wrong quote, wrong place. Schmorell and I were at the same ‘Lazarett’ (military hospital) winter 38/39, when we discovered our political leanings. It was there that Schmorell said to me: ‘Vielleicht wird eines Tages an dieser Tuere (the room where we slept) ein Plakat haengen: Hier hat die Revolution begonnen.’ It was NOT in Schmorells (sic) apartment.”

“Here are several corrections. 1. Alex Schmorell said to me pointing at the door of our sleeping quarters: ‘Vielleicht wird eines Tages dort ein Schild haengen mit der Aufschrift Hier hat die Revolution begonnen.’ ‘This is where the revolution started.’”

I dutifully made those changes to my draft, since I had no other source. Wittenstein was right in one point. As well-written as Richard Hanser’s book was, it wasn’t footnoted and Hanser relied heavily on Inge Scholl’s oral history. I enjoyed reading Hanser’s novel, but I did not include any of his information in my database or subsequent histories.

In his 1997 Shoah Foundation interview, Wittenstein made comparable statements. “It [training in the Sanitätskompanie] has a lot of bearing on the reason you’re here, because sharing a room with me was a future medical student by the name of Alex Schmorell and uh, we very soon found out we had the same political leanings, and which we talk a little about (sic).

“And uh, one day he said, and this you’ll find in almost any book that’s published about the White Rose, that maybe one day there’ll be a plaque in this room where we lived that says, ‘This is where the revolution began.’ So if you will, this is where the White Rose movement got its nucleus.”

Also in 1997, his History Place essay stated, “Some of you may have read in one of the books about the White Rose, what Alex Schmorell said to me, pointing to the door of our room in the barracks: Maybe ten years from now there will be a plaque on this door which will read: ‘This is where the revolution began’.”

During my January 2001 interview with him, this topic did not arise at all—not even in passing. I can only surmise that he deemed the matter settled with his 1995-1996 correspondence.

Later in 2001, for an interview with the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation, Wittenstein repeated the “plaque on the door of the barracks” and “this is where the revolution begins” language. He also told the interviewer that he deemed 1938 to be the true beginning of White Rose resistance.

The same month, Wittenstein wrote me on this topic—in English, including his translation of the German phrase: “Winter 1938/39. Future medical students in the German army were transferred to a ‘Sanitätsabteilung’, to be trained as ‘medics’. One of my room mates was Alexander Schmorell. We soon discovered our political leanings, and he made the oft quoted remark to me: ‘Vielleicht wird eines Tages an dieser Tuere (the door to our room) ein Plakat haengen mit der Inschrift Hier hat die Revolution begonnen’ (maybe one day there will be a plaque on this door (to our room) saying The revolution started here).”

His “reconstructed diary” continued the 1992 version of his tale. “This is where I met Alexander Schmorell: he was multi-talented, a gifted sculptor, deeply interested in literature and music; he was born in Russia, to a German father, a physician, and a Russian mother. We soon discovered our similar political leanings, and became close friends.

“We were quartered in temporary buildings. There were seven of us in my room. A particularly nice, approachable, somewhat languorous student (sic) caught my eye. We were soon connected by a close friendship. He was born in Russia, his parents emigrated to Germany, and he spoke Russian fluently. It did not take long before we discovered that we had the same aversion to National Socialism, with all of its unpleasant dictatorial characteristics. One day he said to me: ‘Maybe one day a sign will hang on this door (to the room in which the two of us were quartered) with the inscription, The revolution began here.’”

Wittenstein was completely unprepared for his association with Armin Ziegler. I had introduced the two men. After Wittenstein realized he could not control my histories, he refused to talk to me or correspond with me further. Armin Ziegler picked up the slack. He was much better than I at ‘playing dumb’ and getting Wittenstein to contradict himself in writing.

In 2003, Ziegler therefore queried him about his 1947 speech. “No one knows anything about this association [of students who had vowed…]. Could you relate more about this? Do you remember names and initiatives [Aktionen, alt. operations]?”

Wittenstein replied, “I know as little about this ‘association’ as you do. It was not an official ‘association’ with members, etc., rather only a couple of like-minded students with whom one could speak about political views. After we were discharged, we studied at different universities, and we lost track of one another. I never noted their names (as usual deliberately).”

To summarize: After his fiery exchange with Harald Steffahn and Uwe Naumann (1992-1993), Wittenstein insisted this was not the Kaserne or barracks, but rather about the door in a barrack [Baracke, alt. barracks]. That the sign was hung on the door of a barrack [Baracke]. That Schmorell had made the comment to him, not to Hans Scholl. And that the comment was: “The revolution began here,” not “From here, the movement continued” [Von hier aus nahm die Bewegung ihren Fortgang]. This was Wittenstein’s version from 1992/1993 through the end of 2003.

Onward to 2004. “It was during this training [Sanitätsabteilung] that I shared a room with three or four other students, among them Alexander Schmorell. Alex and I soon discovered our mutual cultural and intellectual interests and basic beliefs. We became close friends and, in due course, trusted each other to the point where we shared our political leanings and abhorrence of Hitler and the Nazis. Those of you who have read about the White Rose may have come across Alex’s oft-quoted remark to me ‘Maybe one day on the door (of our dormitory room) will hang a plaque: From here the movement progressed.’ We were about 19 then.”

By 2009, Wittenstein had become aware of his public contradiction in the versions of the story he told. I do not know who pointed out the inconsistencies to him, but in his 2009 speech at Oregon State University, it’s obvious someone had done so. “Well, before we were permitted to study medicine, they made medics out of us. We had to go to a hospital, an army hospital and train to be a medic for six months. And when you live close to quarters and go to the same places, you of course find that some of the co-students you like, some you don’t like, so you hope has similar ideas. This was not easy to figure out. Live with someone maybe for a couple of months until you realize that maybe you could talk to them. And find somebody whose (sic) similar ideas.

“This happened to me, 1938, one of my co-future-medics (sic), future medical students was a highly intelligent, intelligent young man from Russia. His father was German, his mother was Russian. They fled the Russian Revolution and came to Munich. And he said to me, jokingly one day, Well, when all this is over, hopefully there will be a plaque at the door of this room in which the twelve of us slept, studying, there will be a plaque saying, This is where the movement continued.

“Now this makes no sen-, meaning to you, [inaudible] in the literature you will find, This is where the revolution began. Now, we didn’t call it quite that way. But in German, the word movement has two meanings. Bewegung, that’s the German word for, it has two meanings. Something moves. But it also means an idea that people accept and do together. This is why Hitler was, liked Munich so much. Because this is where the Nazi ideology was started and began. Munich was called the capital of the movement, Hauptstadt der Bewegung, with this meaning that my friend said, had a very clever double meaning. This is where the movement continued. But of course not what one would think automatically by this saying.”

This single incident highlights much of the difficulty associated with Wittenstein’s stories.

Regarding the association of young men

To begin with: Was there an association of young men who had vowed to overthrow National Socialism, or wasn’t there? To have written such a thing in the years following the war, and then to have no memory of it later, raises many questions about the validity of any of Wittenstein’s “memories.”

Regarding the quote, the person who made the statement, the location of the “sign,” and the number of people in the room

Immediately after the war, the sign said “From here, the movement continued.” From 1992 on, Wittenstein insisted it had said, “The revolution began here.” Wittenstein even accused Steffahn of “falsification of history” for refusing to accept the “revolution” version of the saying.

Only to suddenly revert to the “movement” version at Boston College in 2004. At Oregon State in 2009, Wittenstein added almost the exact explanation that Steffahn had given in 1992.

The 1947 version of the story did not attribute the “joke” to anyone in particular. Hanser picked it up in his White Rose book, attributing it to a “jest” within the group at large that Wittenstein had told him about. From 1992 on, Wittenstein attributed it solely to Alexander Schmorell, as something Alex said to him, not within the scope of the group at large.

And, where the sign was supposed to have been hung. In 1947, Wittenstein said it was to have been hung on the door of his room. In the 1948 version of that essay, which did not include the “movement” quotation, he spoke of the barracks [Kaserne]. In both his Siena speech and History Place essay, Wittenstein used the English word “barracks,” plural, which is usually translated Kaserne.

In 1992, Steffahn placed the imagined sign above the Kasernentor, barracks gate. Wittenstein protested the location, wanting it changed to “the door of the room where we slept.” When Steffahn refused, Wittenstein claimed that he had never mentioned a Kaserne at all, but that he had always said Baracke.

Wittenstein continued with the “room” version in letters to me, going so far as to call it a “dormitory room” in his 2004 Boston College essay. In 2009, he also insisted upon the “door of the room in which the twelve of us slept.”

In his reconstructed diary, there were seven people in the room where they slept. In the 2004 Boston College essay, there were “three or four others” there. By 2009, there were twelve people in the room.

Once you tack on his late 1943 activities, through the end of the war, Wittenstein cannot be seen as someone who harbored even the slightest anti-Nazi sentiment. Rather, it is crystal clear that Wittenstein wholeheartedly embraced Nazism, that his presence at the university in Munich endangered White Rose friends (despite their avoidance of him in their circle), and that his dark secrets from 1944-1945 badly need to be exposed to daylight.

Historical revisionism comes in all shapes and sizes. The chameleon version that Wittenstein practiced is perhaps the most dangerous of all.

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