Kadaververwertungsanstalt

The belief that the British government, using manufactured evidence, accused the Germans of operating "Kadaververwertungsanstalten" (corpse utilization factories) during World War I is one of the most durable legacies of the disinformation campaign waged by “revisionists” in the 1920s and ‘30s. Even in the 21st century, it has been called (by Piers Brendan) “the most appalling atrocity story” of the war, a story he claims was only exposed in the 1920s. For Phillip Knightley it was “the most popular atrocity story of the war.” [P. Brendan, "The Dark Valley: A Panorama of the 1930s". 2000. p 58; P. Knightley, "The First Casualty: The War Correspondent as Hero and Myth-Maker from the Crimea to Kosovo". 2000. pp 114.]

The controversy began on April 16, 1917, with the publication in a daily column in the London "Times", “Through German Eyes,” of the translation of an article that had appeared on April 10 in the Berlin "Lokalanzeiger". In the relevant passage, the reporter wrote, “We pass through Evergnicourt. There is a dull smell in the air, as if lime were being burnt. We are passing the great Corpse Utilization Establishment (Kadaververwertungsanstalt) of this Army Group. The fat that is won here is turned into lubricating oils, and everything else is ground down in the bones mill into a powder, which is used for mixing with pig’s food and as manure.”

The following day, the "Times" quoted at length a spurious article in a Belgian underground newspaper that provided graphic details about the factory. A debate followed in pages of the "Times" and other papers. Most readers probably shared the opinion of the "New York Times", which dismissed the story as an April Fools’ Day prank and correctly informed readers that “‘Kadaver’ is never employed in current German usage to mean a human corpse.” ["New York Times", April 20, 1917.] The only exception was corpses used for dissection–cadavers.

The official response of the British government came on April 30, 1917. Lord Robert Cecil declared in Parliament that he had no information beyond newspaper reports. He added that, “in view of other actions by German military authorities, there is nothing incredible in the present charge against them.” However, the government, he said, had neither the responsibility nor the resources to investigate the allegations. Some individuals within the government nonetheless hoped to exploit the story, and Charles Masterman, director of Wellington House, was asked to prepare a short pamphlet. This was never published, however. Masterman and his mentor, Prime Minister David Lloyd George, never took the story seriously.

A month later, the "Times" revived the rumor by publishing a captured German Army order that made reference to a Kadaver factory. It was issued by the VsdOK, which the Times interpreted as Verordnungs-Stelle (instructions department). The "Frankfurter Zeitung", however, insisted that it stood for Veterinar-Station (veterinary station). The Foreign Office agreed that order could only be referring to “the carcasses of horses.” [London "Times", May 30, 1917; National Archives, FO 395/147]

Here the matter rested until 1925. On October 20 of that year, the "New York Times" reported on a speech given by Brigadier General John Charteris at the National Arts Club the previous evening. Charteris was then a Tory MP for Glasgow, but had served as Chief of Intelligence for part of the war. The General told his audience, according to the "Times", that it was he who had invented the cadaver-factory story. He had transposed the captions of two photographs that came into his possession, one showing dead soldiers being removed by train for funerals and the second showing a train car bearing horses to be processed for fertilizer. A subordinate had suggested forging a diary of a German soldier to verify the accusation, but Charteris vetoed the idea. The General was not a particularly reliable individual, and may have concocted the story in order to impress his audience, not realizing a reporter was present.

On his return to the U.K., Charteris unequivocally denied the "New York Times’" report. If he had been quoted correctly in the "Times" on October 20, this time he was telling the truth. The story had originated in an excerpt from a German newspaper that had been re-published by the London "Times". Two snapshots of German war dead on open train cars did come into the possession of the British government, but neither had captions. No German newspaper circulating at the front would have published such a picture, naturally.

The controversy rapidly died down after the spring of 1917. After 1925, however, the story began surfacing repeatedly–but in Charteris’s discredited October 19 version. For decades it would be cited as a prime example of the nefarious activities of British propagandists. [For further details, see J. Lipkes, Rehearsals: The German Army in Belgium, August 1914. 2007. pp 611-615, 762-763.]

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