In the shadow of Weimar, the cradle of German Enlightenment and home to Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, lies the site of one of the Nazi regime’s most infamous concentration camps: Buchenwald. Established in 1937 on the Ettersberg hill, the camp’s name—meaning “beech forest”—evoked the natural beauty of the area, a place where Goethe himself had wandered and found inspiration. Yet, under the Third Reich, this forest became a symbol of unimaginable horror. At the heart of this transformation was Martin Sommer, an SS guard whose sadistic methods earned him the moniker “The Hangman of Buchenwald.” His actions not only terrorized thousands of prisoners but also appalled even his fellow Nazis, leading to his eventual removal from the camp. This article explores Sommer’s life, his crimes, and the legacy of brutality that stained a landscape once associated with poetry and philosophy.
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Early Life and Rise in the SS
Walter Gerhard Martin Sommer was born on February 8, 1915, in Germany. Little is known about his early years, but like many young men of his generation, he was drawn into the orbit of the Nazi Party during the turbulent 1930s. He joined the Schutzstaffel (SS) and began his career as a guard at Dachau concentration camp in 1938. Dachau, the first Nazi concentration camp, served as a model for others, and it was here that Sommer honed his skills in the regime’s machinery of repression.
By the early 1940s, Sommer had been transferred to Buchenwald, where he rose to the rank of SS-Hauptscharführer (master sergeant). He was placed in charge of the camp’s punishment block, known as the “Bunker,” a isolated section where prisoners deemed troublesome were subjected to intensified torture and isolation. Buchenwald, initially designed to hold political prisoners, Jehovah’s Witnesses, homosexuals, and other “undesirables,” soon expanded to include Jews, Roma, and Soviet POWs as the war progressed. At its peak, the camp held over 100,000 inmates, many forced into slave labor for the German war effort.
The Crimes That Shocked the Reich
Sommer’s reign of terror at Buchenwald was marked by a level of cruelty that went beyond the already horrific standards of the concentration camp system. He earned his infamous nickname, “The Hangman of Buchenwald,” through a particularly gruesome method of torture: “baumhängen,” or tree hanging. Prisoners were bound by their wrists and suspended from trees in the camp’s forested areas, their arms twisted behind their backs. This caused excruciating pain, often leading to dislocated shoulders, permanent injury, or death from exposure and exhaustion. The camp’s location in what was once Goethe’s beloved beech forest added a layer of grim irony—Sommer effectively turned this sylvan retreat into a “hanging forest,” where the trees that inspired literary greatness became instruments of agony.
One tree in particular, the Goethe Oak, stood as a poignant symbol amid the horror. Believed to be a spot where Goethe rested and conversed during his walks, the oak was deliberately preserved during the camp’s construction, sparing it while the surrounding forest was cleared. For the SS, it represented a twisted claim to German cultural heritage; for prisoners, it evoked a lost world of humanism. Accounts suggest that hangings and other punishments occurred near or even on this tree, though it was ultimately destroyed in an Allied bombing raid in 1944. Today, its concrete-preserved stump serves as a memorial to the prisoners’ resilience.
Beyond the hangings, Sommer devised other barbaric punishments. He injected prisoners with lethal substances, such as carbolic acid or air, to induce fatal embolisms. Victims’ bodies were sometimes hidden under his bed or in secret compartments. He forced inmates to stand for days without food or water, exposed to the elements, and personally beat them to death. Notable victims included religious figures: Sommer ordered the upside-down crucifixion of two Austrian priests, Otto Neururer and Matthias Spanlang, and beat a Catholic priest for administering sacraments. He also tortured a German pastor by hanging him naked in winter and dousing him with water until he froze.
These acts were so extreme that they drew scrutiny from within the SS itself. In 1943, SS judge Georg Konrad Morgen investigated corruption and unauthorized killings at Buchenwald, prompted by Heinrich Himmler. Sommer admitted to murdering 40 to 50 prisoners, though he was formally charged with only a few counts. His brutality was seen as undermining the camp’s “efficiency,” and he was transferred to a combat unit in the 9th SS Panzer Division Hohenstaufen.
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Wartime Injury and Post-War Reckoning
Sommer’s front-line service was short-lived. In April 1945, he was severely wounded in an American bombing raid, losing his left arm and right leg. Captured by Allied forces, he concealed his identity to avoid immediate execution and was released in 1947 to a home for the disabled. For a time, he lived quietly, marrying and fathering a child while receiving a disability pension.
His past caught up with him in 1950 when a former prisoner recognized him, leading to his arrest. Initial charges were dropped due to his injuries, but in 1957, he was indicted for complicity in the deaths of 101 inmates. In a 1958 trial in Bayreuth, Sommer was convicted of 25 murders and sentenced to life imprisonment. The sentence was upheld on appeal in 1959. However, due to his deteriorating health, he was transferred to a hospital in 1971 and later to a nursing home, where he lived under restrictions until his death on June 7, 1988.
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Legacy of Horror in a Cultural Landscape
Martin Sommer’s story is a stark reminder of the depths of human depravity during the Holocaust. His methods, which “shocked even other Nazis,” highlight how the concentration camp system enabled individual sadism within a broader framework of genocide. Buchenwald, liberated by American forces in April 1945, saw over 56,000 deaths from starvation, disease, medical experiments, and executions. Sommer’s crimes contributed to this toll, turning a forest once celebrated in Goethe’s works—such as his reflections on nature in Faust—into a site of bound arms, lethal injections, and silent suffering.
Today, the Buchenwald Memorial preserves the site’s history as a warning against totalitarianism and hatred. The Goethe Oak’s stump stands as a testament to the prisoners’ hope for a better world, a counterpoint to the darkness Sommer imposed. In remembering figures like him, we honor the victims and reaffirm the values of humanity that the Nazis sought to destroy.