Arthur R. Butz – The Hoax Of The Twentieth Century

Arthur R. Butz, The Hoax of the Twentieth Century
book (page 128) Vrba writes that the girls working in the “Canada” area were in
very good health, but in the WRB report (part I, page 31) these women were
“beaten and brutalized and their mortality was much higher than among the men.”
Other oddities in his book are his claim to have helped build the crematories (page
16, not mentioned in the WRB report) and his description of an Allied air raid on
April 9, 1944, of which there is no record (page 233; he says that he and Wetzler
hid in a woodpile for three days at Auschwitz after their April 7 escape. The possibility
of an Allied air raid in April in discussed below on page 188). Wetzler just
barely manages to get mentioned in Vrba’s book. Vrba says nothing about the
Polish major or the two Jews who supposedly escaped later on to supplement the
Auschwitz transport figures. In the book the other prisoners refer to him as
“Rudi,” although his original name, and the name by which he was supposedly
known at Auschwitz, is supposed to have been Walter Rosenberg (a point Vrba’s
book does not bring up but is claimed elsewhere, e.g. in They Fought Back, edited
by Yuri Suhl, and in Fighting Auschwitz by Jozef Garlinski). Vrba says nothing
about resting in a mountain retreat after escaping.
Just as conclusive, in our evaluation of Vrba’s story, as the various contradictions
of either the WRB report or known fact, is the general tone of the book and
his description of how various people behaved at the camp. Although the book
presents utterly incredible material in this connection from beginning to end, the
best example is Vrba’s description of an alleged visit by Himmler on July 17,
1942 (pages 9-15, not mentioned in the WRB report). The prisoners were drawn
up for inspection, and the orchestra was in readiness to play when Himmler arrived.
As they waited, the leader of the orchestra:
“[…] stood, baton raised, motionless, poised to weave music for the honored
guest.
And then it happened. The catastrophe that every actor dreads. The moment
of horror that only great occasions merit. The crisis that seems to dog
every moment of truth.
In the tenth row outside our Block, the Block senior found Yankel Meisel
without his full quota of tunic buttons.
It took some seconds for the enormity of the crime to sink in. Then he felled
him with a blow. […]
Out of sight, […] they beat and kicked the life out of him. […]
[…] Himmler’s suite was twenty yards away. The baton moved […] and
the orchestra followed […] with an excerpt from Aida.
It was ‘The Triumph March.’ […]
He lined us up and rapped: ‘I am the Reichsführer. Let’s see how you behave
in front of me.’
Slowly he marched down the ranks, a little killer aping a big killer, glaring
at each of us in turn. If he found dirty finger nails or wooden shoes not properly
blacked, he howled abuse at the offender and thumped him with his heavy
bamboo cane. He even inspected us, nursery fashion, behind the ears and then
went prowling through the barracks, searching for blankets which had not
been folded with precision.”
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