True to his pagan, military code, the SS officer was a full Nazi, even in defeat. He was haughty, even truculent, and stayed with his SS men apart from the amorphous mob of German Wehrmacht prisoners. When casually asked by an American soldier how he felt about the defeat, he did not accept the role of a prisoner being questioned; he lectured: “You Americans have not won. You are only deceiving yourselves. We have suffered a defeat but we shall rally again and beat you in another war. You think you have crushed us, but we will show you one day that we have not been completely defeated.”

Furthermore, when shown pictures of concentration-camp victims, he showed no sorrow, no sympathy. It was a regrettable necessity. This callousness so infuriated an old soldier that he threatened the SS officer with his M1 rifle.

“You wish to kill me? Why certainly you can,” he said, as he theatrically opened his overcoat and stood erect. “I am your prisoner of war and you can do with me what you wish. I am not at all afraid to die and you cannot frighten me.” .

He was playing the same role in defeat that he had played before and during the war. He was not only playing it out to the bitter end of the tragedy, but even after it. His unit had surrendered, together with a whole army, five days before V-E day. He was not a part of the ultra-fanatical SS groups sent for the mythical last stand in the south of Germany—he was simply a typical SS officer. He had been proud before the war, courageous and cruel in the war, sullen and haughty when captured. One unknown thing about his character remained—how will he be in national defeat He had seemed to answer that by his conduct and it seemed to leave no room for optimism.