Konrad Lorenz's life as a prisoner of war in Armenia

In 1941, Konrad Lorenz, already a professor of psychology at the University of Königsberg, was conscripted into the Wehrmacht. He was assigned the role of a military psychologist. Under the supervision of Rudolf Hippius, Lorenz conducted racial studies on humans in occupied Poznań. The objective of these studies was to examine the biological characteristics of "German-Polish half-breeds" to ascertain whether they shared the same work ethics as "pure" Germans. The extent of Lorenz's involvement in the project remains unclear, but the project director, Hippius, referred to him as an "examining psychologist" on multiple occasions.

It was in 1943 or 1944 (Lorenz himself doesn't remember for sure) that he witnessed transports of concentration camp inmates, and with this evidence before his own eyes, he at last "fully realized the complete inhumanity of the Nazis."

Konrad Lorenz as a Soviet POW in 1944

In 1944, Lorenz was transferred to the Vitebsk field hospital. There, in a concrete bunker close behind the front line, he worked as a field surgeon. Then, when the Russians launched an attack westward, he was captured on June 24.

When gathering information about Konrad Lorenz’s life in Armenia, I consulted a book about his biography written by Alec Nisbett, although the author provided limited information about his life as a POW. Luckily in my research, I also came across doctor Werner Straube's memoirs, which detailed their life as prisoners of war in Armenia. The text below consists of excerpts from his memoirs.

After Werner Straube was captured, he was first taken to a large assembly camp. From there, he was transported to Brno, a camp with around 500 men, where they used to do road construction work. The transports were real starvation transports. They never had enough to eat or drink. Their comrades died of typhus, dysentery, diphtheria. At that time, German doctors were wanted. And so, medical student Straube registered as a doctor for the first time there.

Later, Straube was taken to the Kober (probably in Lori Region or Armenia – Armenian Explorer) camp. After he had held the post of camp doctor there for about six months, a transport arrived from Kirov, and with this transport came Konrad Lorenz. Konrad Lorenz actively supported Straube with delousing from day one. Then they divided work: He took over the outpatient clinic, and Straube was responsible for the very primitive camp hospital. They took care of hygiene and delousing together.

Malnutrition was a problem not only for prisoners but also for militants guarding them. The garrison officers were also always sick. So the officers of the garrisons also became Konrad's patients. As a result, he naturally had good contacts with the them, and his word carried weight with them. Konrad used his authority to warn guards not to mistreat prisoners and reminded them of the Geneva Convention. He did not shy away from using this argument, even though the Russians had not signed the Geneva Convention.

The “Russian Manuscript”

The Odyssey of the Russian Manuscript, which he famously took home with him

has practically already begun to be written down. Konrad used this manuscript

after his return home again and again as a basis for his scientific work. It

was later lost, was found again in 1992 and then by Konrad's daughter,

Agnes von Cranach, published as a Russian manuscript. Night after night

Konrad sat and wrote. It was quiet and he was undisturbed. And always,

when he finished a chapter, he said to me: “Werner, study this chapter

and recite it to me.” I did that: I read the text, I thought of it

I wrote down a few key words and then gave him the content in a free lecture

presented. Konrad wanted to check whether his didactics were good. He has

explained to me: “I don’t just write for scientists. I want ordinary people

to read it as well. You should understand what comparative behavioral research is. What ethology is. What evolution is. I want to interpret that for a wide audience, not just scientists.”

The humanist...

Konrad was a personality with immensely many facets. For example, he was an excellent connoisseur of Goethe. He could recite long passages from many of his works by heart. He also always had some Faust verses ready that were appropriate to a situation. If the situation was somehow critical, for example, he used to say: " “Zu diesem Schritt sich heiter zu entschließen und wär' es mit Gefahr, ins Nichts dahin zu fließen”. He constantly had other Faust quotes on the tip of his tongue. He considered me as his diligent student and often said: "So, listen Werner. If you want to exist in your later life as a doctor, then you must have a good memory. You must be able to speak freely, and above all, it is important that you practice your memory here in this misery. If you don't strain your brain cells, you will somehow atrophy. Write down the Faust text that I have."

...and delousing

The delousing clinic played a significant role in the camp. Namely, no one who had come with a transport from Kirov was allowed to be sent to work without having been deloused beforehand. The delousing system was quite something. The clothes were hung inside, and one had to be extremely careful not to let them fall onto the heated pipes on the floor. Otherwise, the entire delousing system would have gone up in flames and exploded. That had already happened to me once and should not happen again. Therefore, we paid great attention to ensuring that the comrades hung their clothing in such a way that they did not come into contact with the heating coils. Konrad operated the system always cheerfully and with great enthusiasm. He sat on a felled tree stump nearby and repeatedly stoked the fire. And it gave him great pleasure when he saw through the inspection window how the lice suddenly became restless and crawled towards the window. Then the lice burst, and not only the lice but also the nits were killed. It was a hundred percent delousing that we achieved in this way.

The psychologist and lifesaver

Konrad Lorenz, it must be said, passed his test as a doctor under extreme living conditions with flying colors, solely through his psychotherapeutic help and treatments. Through his work, of which I am one hundred percent certain, he gave many of his comrades courage again and restored their will to live. Through him, they began to believe in returning home again. Konrad lifted many out of depression, including myself. Perhaps that was his greatest achievement as a doctor behind Soviet barbed wire. And solely through that, he earned great merit for the wartime generation.

I also count myself among those whose lives he saved. After a period of hunger in early March 1947, we were served a so-called Kascha soup with meat after about eight days. I was hungry as a bear and ate a whole pot of this Kascha with mutton. However, the mutton was spoiled. In a state of dystrophy [malnutrition] and dehydration [exsiccation], I also got diarrhea and lost even more fluid. And when there was no more fluid left, my kidneys stopped functioning. So I became unconscious, could no longer get up due to weakness. Konrad saw me lying like that, saw my nose getting sharper, my pulse getting faster, how I was visibly deteriorating, and said: "Good Lord, he's dying, that's it." And then he acted and performed a real medical feat: He went to the kitchen and filled a bucket with five liters of water. We also had a packet of Dextropur in the infirmary, pure glucose. With 500g of pure glucose and the water, he made a five percent solution, boiled it on the stove, and let it cool. When he came back to me with it, I was practically fading away. As he leaned over me, I looked at him again and said, "Konrad, I'm a poor devil." Then I sank into unconsciousness, while he performed the great feat of finding a vein in me, although all the veins had collapsed. After some searching, he finally managed to position a single needle in a vein in my right arm and fix it with a small strip of plaster. He sat down beside my bed with a ten-cubic-centimeter syringe from the infirmary and repeatedly drew ten cubic centimeters and injected it into this cannula, 24 hours straight. And lo and behold, after about 24 hours, I woke up again. In between, however, I had a near-death experience: I saw a glorified blue sky and an infinite expanse of trees, white blooming like cherry trees. The splendor and abundance of light and the infinite peace that lay over that landscape have remained in my memory. When I suddenly opened my eyes again in the early hours of March 11, 1947, Konrad's face was above me. At a time when I was closer to death than ever before, I saw the face of my fatherly friend Konrad Lorenz as the first thing after waking up again. And since then, I am convinced that although imprinting is otherwise only possible in early youth, at that time, an imprinting took place in me at the advanced age of twenty years.

Fight against scarcity

Konrad's skills as a doctor gradually earned respect from the Russians as well.

In the Chalturin camp, he recognized an illness among prisoners of war that the Russians had misdiagnosed: Our comrades suddenly experienced paresthesia [tingling, numbness of limbs] and subsequent paralysis due to malnutrition and vitamin deficiency, which were so severe that several even suffered respiratory paralysis and died. The Russians believed that these comrades were suffering from toxic diphtheria. Even in cases of toxic diphtheria, paresthesia and irreparable paralysis can occur, they knew that very well. However, Konrad was able to convince them that it was polyneuropathy [damage to certain nerve pathways] due to a vitamin deficiency, with vitamin C deficiency being predominant, according to his statements. The Russians took action and procured vitamin C, which was then administered in the camp. And behold, the paresthesia and paralysis disappeared. The prisoners became capable of working again, and Konrad Lorenz was the great miracle doctor.

He spoke with the Russians and told them that he was also a scientist and was involved in a new science, ethology, or comparative behavioral research. And he asked them to allow him to put down on paper what he knew about his science so far, so that he would not waste any time of his life. I knew that he had last held the chair of Immanuel Kant in Königsberg, one of the most prestigious chairs that German universities had to offer. He was visibly proud of that. But he also told me that he was unfortunately drafted into the Wehrmacht too early and then came to Posen, where he worked in a hospital, and later went to Vitebsk for frontline service as a doctor. What was extraordinary was that he was integrated into the fighting troops and was captured. He later explained this to me: The Russian soldier who captured him stood with a loaded rifle next to him. But after he realized that Konrad was defenseless, he experienced what is known as inhibition of killing. He couldn't shoot the unarmed Konrad Lorenz and instead asked him to stand up and come along. It was solely due to this circumstance, the inhibition of killing of a Red Army soldier, that he owed his life. He mentioned this episode to me several times: "That was the sore point in my life," he used to say, "I was almost shot back then, and no one would have cared about me anymore. But as it happened, I made it through, and fate took its course."

It must be known that the supply of prisoners of war in Armenia was particularly difficult because the Armenians themselves did not have much to eat. This also meant that the supply did not work out. From February until shortly before Konrad arrived in the camp, the prisoners of war were fed exclusively on flour. They simply put sacks of flour in the camp, and we had to figure out how to deal with it. In other words, we had flour soup in the morning, flour dumplings for lunch, and flour porridge for dinner. Without any meat or vitamin supplements, this led to a disaster. The comrades suffered from the so-called flour malnutrition. They became dystrophic and soon suffered from the severe form of dystrophy, called edematous dystrophy. Their legs swelled, their skin burst, there were secondary infections of ulcers on the legs, so many became unable to work. Therefore, we tried to improve the vitamin content by adding dandelions and herbs that grew along the roadside. We also cooked large amounts of nettles into the soup, but of course, this could not achieve the desired effect in the long run. The avitaminosis [vitamin deficiency disease] also caused many comrades to become night-blind. The so-called hemeralopia [night blindness] played a significant role at that time. At night, none of the sick comrades could leave the shelter and go to the latrine without being led by another comrade, to prevent them from falling into the latrine or running into the barbed wire fence. Because approaching the barbed wire immediately triggered an alarm, and the Russians started shooting. Additionally, the night's rest was always disturbed by the yelling of the Russian guards, who shouted to each other and sang songs.

So we were constantly hungry. And this hunger had to be fought in some way. Something had to be organized. Konrad Lorenz was one of the most inventive and successful organizers when it came to combating hunger. For example, from time to time, cows were slaughtered on a meadow outside the camp. Then we temporarily had a few pieces of meat in our soup. The large marrow bones were left behind. Konrad saw this and asked if he could have the bones. The Russians wondered what he was planning to do with the bones. Konrad had a large iron bucket brought from the forge and then smashed the bones with an iron pestle. Once they were small enough, he threw them into a pot and boiled them in the kitchen. When the broth cooled, he skimmed off the bone fat and filled it into cans. The fat had to be stored cool to avoid becoming rancid shortly. We buried it in a shady spot near the infirmary – that was our refrigerator. However, I said, "Konrad, we are not used to fat at all anymore. If we eat the fat, we'll probably get stomach cramps and diarrhea." However, he stubbornly replied, "I'll try it anyway!" – And behold, it didn't take long before he had diarrhea and had to run to the latrine constantly. He even persuaded me to give it a try. I only did it once, and I had a similar experience. But after Konrad tried it several times, he kept the bread with the bone fat for himself. He survived through that acute phase of hunger.

But he also did not scorn other "additional food." Once a Russian officer passed through the camp, who had shot a buzzard. Konrad saw the dead bird and asked, "What are you going to do with the dead buzzard?" The Russian replied, "I'll throw it away, I only shot it for my pleasure." Konrad asked, "Can I have this buzzard?" To which the Russian replied, "If you want it, you can have it." As soon as the Russian officer was gone, Konrad plucked the bird, removed its innards, singed it, dissected it, and fried it in the kitchen. He ate it up completely. It agreed with him well, and he didn't have diarrhea afterwards. He wanted to share some with me, but of course, I felt disgust and declined. It was similar with the snake: One of our comrades brought a snake, about one meter long, which he had killed from the construction site. He showed it to Konrad because he knew he was a zoologist, someone who knows about animals. Konrad took the snake, skinned it, dissected it, fried it, and ate it up. Even this "snake feast" agreed with him.

The next miracle that completely perplexed the camp community and the Russians, including the officers, was the experiment with the lizard: We had a lizard population in the camp. The animals liked to sunbathe on the basalt cones in the camp. I can still remember exactly how Konrad sat on these basalt cones for several days, observing the lizards until he must have known each one individually. Anyway, he managed to catch a lizard. He got a box, put the lizard in it, and then went to the Russian guard and called the officer who had given him the buzzard. He asked him if he would like to come and see an experiment. The officer came and brought several guards with him. It was around noon, so there were prisoners in the camp as well, and Konrad called them over too. Then he showed us his lizard experiment: He took the animal out of the box, put it on the table in the infirmary, and stroked the lizard with his hands. The lizard made a leap and landed on its back. Everyone was amazed. The Russians even stepped back. They had never seen anything like it, let alone considered it possible. After a while, Konrad stroked the lizard again. It made a leap and was back on its feet. That was the last straw. The Russians ran away. They pushed their caps back and said about Konrad, he was in league with the devil. So Konrad Lorenz was always a topic of conversation. The Austrian professor, they said, wasn't he a great man, who knew how to get by.

The food was often so bad that we thought we wouldn't survive. So when I finally learned the Faust verses, we organized recitation evenings. We invited the officers and all interested people. Konrad and I then performed Faust, or rather, we interpreted it. Of course, Konrad could do that too; he wasn't just a Faust interpreter, he was also a Goethe interpreter.

The listeners were enthusiastic and repeatedly asked us to perform again. While we played, while we spread intellectual nourishment, they forgot their hunger just as much as we forgot ours.

Bad news from home

One day, a comrade from the German camp administration came and brought Konrad a postcard. He read this card, and I saw how he changed color and somehow slackened while reading it. I observed this from very close and knew right away that there must have been something special on this card, even before Konrad said to me, "Werner, my father has passed away." He was deeply shaken. Then he handed me the card. I read this card, written by Konrad's wife Gretl, myself. Konrad then took it back, went to the infirmary, lay down on his straw sack there, and was unresponsive until late into the night, mourning deeply for his father. He would have loved to see his father again. His father had been especially proud of him when he finally managed to be appointed to the chair of Kant in Königsberg. I also know that his father had visited him in Königsberg and even stayed there for a while. After receiving the news of his father's death, Konrad held proper memorial sessions for his father for seven days. During this time, he did not continue writing his Russian manuscript but devoted himself entirely to thoughts of his father. During this phase, he also told me about the contents of the book "I Was Allowed to Help" that his father had written. Not only to me, but also to other listeners, including some officers we had gotten to know a little better. When he finished his eulogy, often late into the night, he always quoted verses from Faust: "If, as a young man, you honor your father, then you would gladly be received by him. If, as a man, you increase knowledge, your son can achieve a higher goal." and "Oh, fortunate is he who still can hope to emerge from this sea of error. What one does not know, one needs; and what one knows, one cannot use."

The camp doctor...

It was a special trait of Konrad's that he did not withdraw as a professor but, on the contrary, integrated himself into the camp community as a doctor. He took over the infirmary. I deliberately said, "Konrad, you run the infirmary, then you have constant contact with our people. They not only tell you about the complaints they have at the moment, but they also tell you how they have been treated at their workplaces. Whether they have been beaten, whether their performance has been recognized, or whether they have been degraded." He took note of all this with an open ear. And it was essential that there was a listener. This was often more important than distributing any pills, which we had in very limited numbers anyway. Even when the Russians came, they usually demanded medication, although the medicines in the infirmary were actually intended for our prisoners of war. But they were the masters and sometimes demanded, for example, sulfonamides, which were very rare, if they had pneumonia or something similar. Our comrades were then naturally lacking them. But for Konrad, a patient was first and foremost a patient, whether prisoner or Russian, that is, the oppressor. In such moments, it did not matter. And precisely because he never made a distinction, he was so respected by the Russians. They respected him. So he was successful with his comrades, but also with the Russians. Unfortunately, during the heavy work that our comrades had to do in building the power plant, there were also instances of abuse: beatings with rifle butts, but also kicks led to injuries. The injured comrades were brought to our camp. When a prisoner was beaten so severely that several ribs were broken, both Konrad and I intervened and called in the camp commander. We made it clear to him that this man had been beaten and abused at the workplace for no reason. Konrad did not mince words. He said, "We are prisoners of war. We are defenseless here. But the war is over. The Geneva Convention prohibits the mistreatment of prisoners of war. What you are doing violates human rights." We could hear references to the Geneva Convention on various occasions from him. And he also said to me, "Werner, it's better if you are consistent and accuse the Russians when they do something wrong, then they will have more respect for you than if you cower before them." I followed this later in other camps. I had lost my fear of the Russians. And by appearing in a certain way and referring to the Geneva Convention, I achieved more than I could have by submissive behavior.

Once, we severely reprimanded the Russians. There was a forge nearby. There was a blacksmith in a dark room with almost no ventilation. In the middle was the anvil where the iron was forged, so it naturally smoked heavily. The draft was completely insufficient, and this comrade was brought to us into the camp two or three times half unconscious with chronic carbon monoxide poisoning. After repeatedly pointing this out to the Russians, at least a larger exhaust was broken into this forge. Also, many comrades had accidents during the underground work because safety measures were not observed at all. Many had no helmets and no headgear at all. The equipment they worked with was more than primitive. Bone fractures and severe head injuries were commonplace. Konrad had to come to terms with this as the camp doctor in Sevan.

...und Zoologe

But in Sevan, the zoologist in him also came to the forefront. The camp was located on a plateau. Therefore, there were plenty of birds, as he later told me: starlings, sparrows en masse, and even larks. Anyway, with the help of some comrades and wire he obtained from the construction sites, he made several cages and then caught a young starling, two house sparrows, and a crested lark. He had dealt with starlings before. And now he wanted to tame this starling. So he put it in the cage, then carried the cage into a closed room, opened it there, and let the starling fly. He had a long stick with him, with which he threatened the star whenever it left the cage. Eventually, the star realized that if I fly back into the cage, I won't be threatened anymore. He repeated this experiment so many times until the star was tamed. When he later took it to Yerevan, all he had to do was raise the stick, and behold, the bird returned to its cage. In addition to the star, which he named Friedrich and which later went down in the history of ornithology, he also brought his two house sparrows and the crested lark in the cage to Yerevan.

In the camp in Arabkir, the cages were hung on the south side and played a significant role for the prisoners of war. Those who suffered from dystrophy and those who were unable to work were sitting in the camp with nothing to do. So they amused themselves by catching flies for the birds. Thus, the starling, the crested lark, and the sparrows there were well-fed, and the prisoners of war had their entertainment. When we had lunch break and there was no infirmary, Konrad and I regularly met. Then he let the starling fly. He simply opened the door, and the starling flew out. It was lively and flew to the gutters, to the telegraph poles, and circled over the camp. This naturally attracted many spectators. Not only the prisoners of war but also the Russian guards came and watched as the starling flew around. But as soon as Konrad raised the stick, the bird either returned directly to the cage or boldly landed on his master's head or shoulder. In addition to the laughter of the prisoners of war, you could then hear the Russians cursing. The Russians liked to curse, not only when something didn't suit them but also when they were amazed. And when the starling sat on Lorenz's head, I could hear them say repeatedly: Well, the professor really has a bird!

Reality in Yerevan

The bodies of deceased comrades had to lie for three hours and were not to be touched. Then they were picked up and taken to a shed for dissection. Every corpse in Yerevan had to be dissected. To my great fortune, when I was in Prague, I had participated in a dissection course once. So I could dissect. I had to work with very primitive instruments, but it worked. Next to me stood a Russian captain doctor who inspected the exposed organs, kept records, and of course, indicated the cause of death. The cause of death was clear in very many cases: the patients had starved. But this could not be documented in the records. There it said died of tuberculosis, of pneumonia, and the like. Death by starvation as such was not allowed to be documented. It naturally affected me greatly to have to dissect my comrades under the most primitive conditions while rats jumped around me. At that time, Konrad kept saying, "Werner, you will survive this too." Every time I returned exhausted and depressed from such a dissection, he lifted me up. We constantly motivated each other when we were almost at the end.

Konrad's journey home

After the Russian chief physician, Joseph Gregorian, (Werner Straube is likely misremembering renowned Armenian architect Mark Grigorian’s  actual name; I believe he is referring to him and Grigorian in his term promised to forward his request to Hovsep Orbeli – Armenian Explorer) promised Konrad to forward his request to take his manuscript home, Konrad was naturally extremely tense. He kept wondering, "Will he do it? Will I succeed in what I'm planning now?" He tried to cope with this inner tension by lecturing me until late into the night, just to pass the time. When he talked about Darwin, he sometimes could hardly find an end. For me, it was highly interesting to delve into this science. It was also important for Konrad to share his views on Sigmund Freud. And I can only say that it was an extremely positive attitude; otherwise, he would not have become so eloquent and detailed on this topic. He was also fascinated by Kantian philosophy, which he often spoke about. He corresponded with Max Planck, whom he greatly admired. Planck meant a lot to him, and there were also bridges concerning evolutionary epistemology. Konrad informed me that he had corresponded with Planck and that through this correspondence, he had found out how much he and Planck agreed on epistemological issues. And he always regretted greatly that he could not experience Planck anymore, as he had passed away in 1947.

After weeks of waiting, a representative of the Russian camp commander came and gave Konrad a document stating: Konrad Lorenz, Professor, is ordered to the Academy of Physiological Sciences in Moscow. Immediately. This meant that Konrad had to get ready for departure from Yerevan within a few hours. This caused a stir. He was first called to the clothing store, where he was dressed anew. The result of this dressing was a disaster. When he came back, I hardly recognized him; he looked like a scarecrow. He wore a shako and a coat that was much too long and so big that his hands barely visible. His trousers hung like an accordion over the new shoes, of which hardly anything was visible. In this attire, Konrad prepared for departure. However, the most important thing was that he still had to bundle his manuscript. He used strings for that. He had also insisted on a backpack because he had to transport his bundle of papers somehow. Additionally, he still carried his two bird cages with the starling, the two house sparrows, and the crested lark that were so dear to him.

The departure was scheduled for three o'clock. His departure deeply affected me. With him, I not only lost a fatherly friend but also my second father, so to speak. I had lost my biological father to illness at the age of nine. Now, I was losing another father who had been a guiding light in my life. And by now, I could very well assess what I owed to Konrad Lorenz. The most important thing I owed him was my life. But it was much more than that. Comrade Konrad Lorenz, like me, possessed a humanistic education. When I voluntarily applied to the military medical academy in Berlin, I read above the entrance the motto under which we military doctors were supposed to practice our profession later: Scientiae Humanitati Patriae. I never forgot this motto even in captivity. And not for nothing does the word humanitas stand in the middle of this saying. That is the most essential thing in medical ethics, to serve humanity. By the victorious nation, by the Russians, this humanity was trampled underfoot behind barbed wire. We were deprived of rights; we possessed nothing but our lives and had to figure out how to survive. The only endeavor in Russian captivity was indeed to survive, no matter what. Konrad encouraged me in this, and not only me but all the comrades he psychologically supported and urged not to lose courage, not to lose faith, not to let the hope of returning home fade. When hope fades, life is lost. So Konrad tried to make us laugh by, for example, telling his animal stories. The comrades sitting around him sometimes held their stomachs from laughing. It was the most effective psychotherapy I have ever encountered.