Imagine standing in a firing squad somewhere in Nazi-occupied Eastern Europe. The order comes down: shoot the civilians. But one soldier steps back and says, “No. ” What happens next?
Most of us assume he’d be shot on the spot. But the truth is far more complicated. Historians have uncovered over a hundred verified cases of German soldiers, SS men, and police officers who refused to take part in mass murder—and many of them faced surprisingly mild consequences. Some faced none at all.
During World War II, the prevailing belief among German soldiers, SS and SD members, and police personnel was that every order from a superior had to be obeyed without question. Disobedience supposedly meant death, imprisonment, or even danger to one’s family. Many historians of Nazi Germany long accepted this view. But was it truly impossible for a soldier to refuse to murder Jews, Roma, Soviet prisoners of war, and other unarmed civilians and still survive?
Could a man say no without being executed or sent to a concentration camp? The documentary record is incomplete, but what survives is revealing. Historian David Kitterman uncovered more than one hundred verified instances in which individuals refused to shoot unarmed civilians or prisoners. His findings come from detailed postwar investigations and trial records held in German state archives and the Central Office for the Investigation of National Socialist Crimes in Ludwigsburg.
Drawing on these records, Kitterman documented at least eighty-five confirmed cases of refusal. His study did not just examine what happened to those who refused, but also how they resisted, why they made that choice, and what legal and personal factors influenced their decisions. His work sheds light on a rarely discussed truth: even inside the machinery of terror, some people found the courage to say no. Dr.
Albert Battel, a lawyer and reserve major in the German army, used his military authority to try to stop the SS and security police in Przemysl from carrying out the so-called resettlement of Jews in the summer of 1942—an operation that was in reality a mass execution. Born in 1891 in Upper Silesia, Battel had joined the Nazi Party on May 1, 1933, at the age of forty-two, and also belonged to the National Socialist Lawyers League. A Catholic, he had previously lent money to a Jewish colleague in 1936 and 1937, an act that led to a denunciation within the party. As punishment, he was formally reprimanded and his party membership was suspended for a year.
Investigations later revealed that Battel had shown a willingness to help Jews even before the war. On July 24, 1942, Battel persuaded his superior officer, Major Lütke, to issue an order placing Jewish workers employed by the Wehrmacht under military protection. The order stated that in view of previous actions against Jewish resettlement, the local commander was to bring all Jews working for the army into barracks and place them under military protection, ensuring they were fed and housed so they remained able to work. Battel then took direct action.
He blocked bridges across the river to prevent SS and security police units from entering Przemysl and evacuating eighty to one hundred Jews from the ghetto to the army headquarters. Although this defiance only delayed the deportations—the Jews were later handed over to the SS—Battel’s intervention temporarily saved their lives. His actions drew complaints that reached Heinrich Himmler, who personally ordered an investigation. Battel was eventually reprimanded and transferred to a frontline unit.
Himmler even planned to have him arrested after the war and expelled from the party. But Battel survived the conflict and was later recognized by Israel as Righteous Among the Nations for his courageous stand. His deeds went beyond simply refusing orders. They represented direct resistance to SS and SD operations, and he faced remarkably mild punishment for such defiance.
Bernhard Greiser managed to avoid taking part in the execution of Jews by strictly following military protocol and immediately protesting to his superiors. Born in 1887 in Rippien, he had retired in 1936 as a major in the Schutzpolizei, the order police. When war broke out, he was recalled to service and became acting commander of the Schutzpolizei in Tilsit. In early 1941, he trained a police recruit battalion, Battalion 323, which later operated under his command near Georgenburg and in the Rominte Forest.
Greiser’s unit was subordinate to the Commander of the Order Police in Königsberg. At one point, an SD officer personally asked Greiser to provide men for an execution of Jewish civilians in the Georgenburg area. Greiser refused. He ordered his senior captain to stay at headquarters and forbade anyone in his battalion from participating without his direct authorization.
He then traveled to Königsberg to secure written confirmation from his superiors that he was only to follow orders issued directly through official channels. He obtained such a document. This move effectively blocked the SD’s request, forcing them to carry out the murder of 365 Jews themselves while Greiser was away. Although the SS and police opened an investigation into his refusal, it was dropped after Greiser gave testimony at the Hauptamt Ordnungspolizei in Berlin.
Remarkably, soon after this episode, Greiser was awarded the Knight’s Cross despite having openly resisted SS involvement in mass murders. There were other similar cases. In one instance, an order came directed at all units of the Schuma that these units were not to be involved in executions. A remarkable case of formal refusal by two Waffen-SS officers took place in Poland just days after Germany invaded the Soviet Union, in late June and early July 1941.
SS-Obersturmführer Dann, commander of the SS-Battalion Riese, a unit formed in May 1941 from Himmler’s personal escort, received orders from the Higher SS and Police Leader in Lemberg to send one of his companies to a meeting point at the Vistula River for further instructions. The detachment, led by a second lieutenant named Unasha, rejoined the main battalion in Lublin later that evening. Unasha reported to Dann that part of his company had been forced to take part in the execution of Jews and Poles earlier that day. He told his commander that he refused to carry out any more such executions, and he would not compel his soldiers—trained as combat troops, not killers—to participate again.
That same evening, Dann wrote to the SS Leadership Office in Berlin, clearly and explicitly stating that he would not allow his battalion to be used for executions in the future. His report included Unasha’s written account of what had occurred. Within days, Berlin ordered the immediate dissolution of the entire battalion. Its companies were reassigned to various SS regiments.
Dann was summoned to Berlin to report personally to SS-Gruppenführer Paul, who reprimanded him for disobeying orders but did not punish him further. Instead, Dann was reassigned as a major. He was later promoted to commander of SS-Jäger Battalion 9 in December 1941, and subsequently of the 14th Kalian Volunteer Regiment, a post he held until the end of the war. Despite his open defiance of SS directives, Dann faced no serious consequences and continued serving in high command positions throughout the war.
One particularly striking case involves an officer who refused to take part in the execution of Soviet prisoners of war and consequently spent about three years in a concentration camp. The officer was Dr. Nikolaus von Hornik, a lawyer and first lieutenant in the Wehrmacht who had previously served in the police before joining the army in October 1941. Hornik was sent east as a platoon leader.
On November 1, 1941, his battalion commander ordered him to execute 780 Russian prisoners of war who had been separated from Stalag 325. The plan was to kill them with a shot to the neck in a small forest between Lublin and Lemberg. Hornik refused to carry out the order, explaining to his commander that as a lawyer, a Catholic, and an army officer, he could not participate in such an act. He assembled his men and informed them of his refusal, telling them that shooting defenseless people was not only a crime but reminiscent of the methods of the Soviet secret police.
None of his men took part in the killings, though they were later ordered to guard the perimeter of the execution site. Soon after, Hornik was recalled to Germany and arrested in May 1942 on the orders of the SS and police court chief. He was charged not primarily for disobedience, but for undermining military morale by setting an example that might encourage refusal among others. His first trial in November 1942 resulted in a sentence of three to four years in prison for undermining morale.
A second trial in March 1945 increased the sentence to six or seven years. During this time, from November 1942 until the end of the war, Hornik was imprisoned in Buchenwald concentration camp. Because Hornik based his refusal on German military law, Himmler reportedly considered the sentence too lenient and refused to sign it. As a result, Hornik was treated unusually well for a concentration camp prisoner.
He kept his officer rank and pay, and his detention was classified as investigative arrest rather than punishment. Hornik remained in Buchenwald until the end of the war. His imprisonment, ironically, was not for refusing to shoot Soviet prisoners of war, but for teaching his soldiers that military law gave them the right to reject illegal orders—a lesson the SS and police corps deemed an act of undermining the war effort. Kitterman investigated eighty-five cases involving individuals from every level of the German armed forces and security apparatus: from generals in the army and police, to officers in the Waffen-SS and SD, to members of the Einsatzgruppen, the units specifically designated to perform mass executions of Jewish civilians behind the Eastern Front, as well as enlisted men and even party officials.
The reasons for refusal varied. In almost half of the cases, the reason was not recorded. A quarter of the cases were based on conscience. Fifteen times, the order was seen as illegal.
Others believed it caused emotional disturbance. Some claimed it was not within their role, and two claimed the murders were politically disadvantageous. Out of the eighty-five documented cases, over half involved direct refusal, with some men formally protesting to superiors to protect themselves from future involvement. Others relied on moral, religious, or psychological reasons, claiming emotional distress, citing conscience, or arguing that such acts violated military or international law.
A few invoked the Geneva Conventions or German military codes, while others faked illness, incompetence, or madness to evade participation. Knowledge of legal procedures and the military hierarchy helped officers more than enlisted men. Officers made up roughly two-thirds of successful refusals. Some demanded legal proof or court documents before agreeing to executions.
Others sought transfers to combat units, resigned from police roles, or used creative evasions like hiding during shootings, missing on purpose, or claiming logistical excuses. A few soldiers even threatened force when coerced, or refused to serve as executioners for other units. Christopher Browning’s book Ordinary Men tells the story of Reserve Police Battalion 101 under Major Wilhelm Trapp. The battalion was ordered to round up the 1,800 Jews of Józefów, Poland.
This time, however, the majority of the Jews were not to be deported. Only men capable of work would be sent to labor camps near Lublin. The women, children, and elderly were to be shot on the spot. One officer, Lieutenant Heinz Buhmann, a thirty-eight-year-old Hamburg businessman and reservist, was horrified when he learned what the mission involved.
He told Trapp’s adjutant that he refused to take part in the shooting of defenseless civilians and requested another duty. The adjutant assigned him to escort the Jewish men selected for labor instead. In the early hours of July 13, the battalion set out for Józefów. Before the massacre began, Trapp reassembled his men, explained their orders, and remarkably offered anyone who couldn’t bear the task the chance to step aside.
Only a dozen men accepted his offer and were reassigned, while the rest prepared to carry out the killings. So what were, in general, the consequences for those officers and rank-and-file men who refused to carry out the killings? Of the investigated cases, not a single person lost his life because of his refusal. In more than half of the cases, there was no negative consequence at all.
Reprimands or threats to be sent to the front, to a camp, or put on report happened in a dozen cases, as did transfers to another unit or a transfer back to Germany. In one instance, a person was sent to a concentration camp. But as discussed before, that imprisonment was not for refusing to shoot people, but for teaching his soldiers that military law gave them the right to reject illegal orders. In a handful of cases, men were actually sent to a combat unit, received house arrest, or, in the case of an officer refusing, the unit was broken up.
Forced resignation or being assigned to a desk task did occur as well. This doesn’t mean severe punishment was never meted out. There is a case of Josef Schulz, a German soldier of the 714th Infantry Division who allegedly refused to take part in an execution of Yugoslav civilians and was shot with the hostages. However, historians dispute the veracity of that story, and some consider it a legend rather than a fully verified fact.
There is also the case of Otto Schime, an Austrian soldier in the Wehrmacht who served on a firing squad. He was reportedly executed for refusing to participate in the execution of Polish civilians and over time became a symbol of pacifism and Austrian opposition to Nazism. But the accuracy of that account has also been questioned, with critics claiming it lacks credible documentary evidence and may have been invented or exaggerated. An interesting case occurred in occupied Netherlands, where a German Luftwaffe soldier was ordered to shoot captured Dutch resistance fighters.
He refused and did not live to tell about it. But for most of the men who said no, the outcome was far less dramatic. They were reprimanded, transferred, or simply left alone. The machinery of terror could tolerate a handful of refusals, as long as the killings went on.
And for the most part, they did.
