Not Andre in the 1981 movie about two old friends reuniting over a leisurely, insightful meal. A different Andre. A former Waffen SS officer in Hitler’s Wehrmacht. A “former” Nazi if such a creature exists. My dinner with this particular Andre was in 1966 on a voyage from Le Havre to New York aboard the transatlantic liner SS France. My wife and I were dinner guests of fellow passengers, a retired U.S. Marine Corps colonel and his wife. It was the last night before we docked in New York, and the colonel decided to invite a few shipboard acquaintances for dinner and conversation, including Andre and his wife. They were on their way home to Argentina.
A British writer and his wife and a clergyman from the London docks at Wapping rounded out the table.
My wife and I were in our early twenties; the others were sixtyish. I think we were invited because my wife possessed an uncanny ability to carry on a conversation on any subject with anybody, anywhere, anytime, and in any language, especially those of which she spoke not a word.
The only common thread amongst us was our wartime experience. My wartime experience was as an observer — in my high chair, eating breakfast with my mother and brother, when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.
The Marine colonel had seen extensive combat in the South Pacific. Andre, the former German officer, fought in the war as a captain of artillery on the Eastern Front in Russia. The writer had covered the London Blitz as a journalist. The clergyman and his wife had served as members of SOE, Special Operations Executive of the British secret service. He was captured in France and tortured by the Gestapo. After the war, he became an Anglican priest.
Although I write historical fiction, this story is true. I don’t have the imagination to seat characters like that at the same table. You might think we had a lengthy and fascinating dinner conversation about the vicissitudes of war. But, we didn’t. The retired American colonel, brash and outspoken, introduced each person at the table as I have described them here. After an unpleasant awkwardness settled in, the war was not mentioned again. We talked about the pleasures of ocean travel. A very civilized, polite, and unmemorable conversation served up with platitudes.
We drank excellent French wine, ate well-prepared food and experienced the memorable first-class service of the French Line. But that was it. I wondered what the colonel had expected. Confrontation? Accusations? An opportunity to brag about his wartime exploits?
My unexpected takeaway from the dinner was my impression of Andre. He was the first admitted Nazi I ever met face-to-face. I was prepared to despise him. But, his urbane and articulate demeanor caught me off guard. He was likable, in a bone-chilling way.
Andre, I learned later from the colonel, was born in Munich to an aristocratic family, studied law at Leipzig University and planned to become a civil engineer. In 1937, he left school, joined the Nazi party and volunteered in the German army. The following year, he became a member of the Schutzstaffel. The SS. In the closing weeks of the war after serving in Russia, he evaded capture and made his way to Argentina where he met his wife.
Andre made a choice at a pivotal moment in German history. Beyond patriotism, beyond defense of homeland, he sided with evil. He, along with all members of the SS, the Nazi party, and the Wehrmacht swore allegiance not to Germany or the German people, but to one man. Adolf Hitler.
Great story...bone-chilling for me as my Norwegian uncle survived Buchenwald.