WHEREVER THEY MAY BE
© 1972, The Beate Klarsfeld Foundation
 
 
Previous Page Back  Contents  Contents Page 172 Home Page Home Page  Forward Next Page 
     
jacket come out of the house and hurry to a spot about two hundred yards away, where a crowd had gathered to watch the parade. Thinking it was Hagen, they ran after him. The cameraman mingled with the crowd and pretended to be filming the parade. But when he got closer, he found he had been following the wrong man.

Disappointed, we all got back into the car and drove toward Hagen's house. Just at that moment the door opened, and out stepped a man wearing glasses and a hat and coat. He came down the short flight of steps and quickly walked to the adjoining garage. There he got into a large Opel. I recognized him at once, although I had never seen Hagen. I had imagined him as a youthful-looking man because his style in the documents we had examined was lively and bespoke a quickness of mind that would not have diminished with age. In the same way I had not been surprised when I saw Lischka, for he too corresponded to the man of his memorandums – exact, meticulous, and cold.

I jumped in front of the car just as it was coming out of the garage and called: "Herr Hagen, is that you?"

He raised his head, nodded, and then saw the cameraman filming him. He stopped the car, opened the door, and ran toward the cameraman and Serge with his arm raised as if to strike them. Then he stopped and got himself under control, probably realizing that if he damaged the camera we would make a complaint to the police and his name would get into the newspapers.

Like Lischka, all he wanted was to live in complete privacy. I went up to him and, pointing to Serge, said: "This gentleman is a French journalist who would like to ask you a few questions."

He made the connection with the telephone call of the night before and got back into his car. I was still standing in front of it. He was waiting for his wife. In better French than mine, he said to Serge indignantly: "Sir, you have no right to film me here in front of my house."

Serge replied: "M. Hagen, there are Germans who have been sentenced to a life of hard labor in France for having done less than take pictures in the street."

"But, sir, I am not in hiding. I have gone back to France more than twenty times since the war."

"It's too bad the French police didn't notice your name. You should have been arrested. All I want is to ask you a few questions and find out whether you recall having had the following jobs:
    
   
 
WHEREVER THEY MAY BE
© 1972, The Beate Klarsfeld Foundation
Previous Page  Back Page 172 Forward  Next Page