The Nazi and the Psychiatrist Read Online Free PDF

weaning.”
    Göring’s long history of dependence on opium derivatives and his unsuccessful attempts to limit his paracodeine use during stressful times of the war made Kelley’s claims about Göring’s weak addiction ring hollow. A buildup of anxiety, not leg pain, had caused Göring to increase his intake to tens of thousands of paracodeine tablets during the 1930s and 1940s. Today the US Drug Enforcement Administration ranks paracodeine as a Schedule II substance, meaning that its use can lead to dependency and is restricted by law. William Lee, the junkie in William Burroughs’s novel Naked Lunch , mentions paracodeine as one of his favorite recreational drugs.
    The Reichsmarschall played on Kelley’s professional pride, flattering him as he submitted to the physician’s direction. Kelley was pleased with the way he led Göring through the process, but it is unclear who was leading whom. In the early weeks of their relationship, Kelley had no real appreciation of Göring’s successful history of concealment, manipulation, and clever discernment of the motives of the people around him, skills that Göring had honed during his rise in Hitler’s Germany. He was no ordinary addict.
    While overcoming his paracodeine habit, Göring also accepted Kelley’s help in losing weight. During a fat-shedding program that lasted five months, Göring dropped sixty pounds. Protecting Göring’s heart motivated Kelley to accomplish this reduction, but the doctor gave his patienta different rationale: losing weight made Göring look better.“He fancied looking like the hero of the Luftwaffe again,” Dolibois observed, “the highly decorated ace of the famous Richthoften squadron of World War I.” Göring agreed to the weight loss program and ate less. He also requested alterations to his prison garb and uniform. The waist of his pants needed to be taken in six inches.“This concession was granted,” Kelley acknowledged, “not because we were interested in Göring’s appearance but because, without refitting, he would have been unable to keep his trousers up.”
    Now in much better health, Göring lost some of his animosity toward his captors, and his disposition improved. He remained anxious, however, sometimes accusing guards of plotting to murder him. He disliked solitude, and one night the violence of a passing thunderstorm, which Göring experienced in the solitude of his cell, set off what at first seemed a heart attack.A doctor called it just a palpitation. Gradually he climbed back into the skin of Hermann Göring, the confident and shrewd player of power politics who had dominated wide stretches of Europe before his capture. He became more comfortable, loquacious, and fascinating to the reassuringly intense psychiatrist who sat and patiently absorbed his every word.

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    T HE P SYCHIATRIST
    W hen Douglas Kelley stepped into the drama of Ashcan, he had no experience with war criminals and little expertise in treating the withdrawal of addicts from drug dependency. The assignment had come up unexpectedly on August 4, 1945, when he received new orders from the US Army’s executive command.“You are to contact Captain Miller . . . [at] Palace Hotel at Mondorf Lesbains, a small town approximately 10 miles south of Luxembourg City,” it read. “Captain Miller will give you specific instructions as to your mission.” Kelley did not know that these orders would catapult his life in a new direction.
    During the previous two months a swarm of psychiatrists and other physicians had applied for permission to come to Mondorf to examine and try to find the reasons for the behavior of the top Nazi captives. One, the American psychoanalyst John Millet, hoped to “add to our information concerning the character and habitual desires of the German people.” Others who sought to interview the Nazis wanted far more than their time.“Some went as far as to propose dissecting the brains of the . . . perpetrators: this would involve