The Herr Doktor

The thin, balding man who walked into the Defense Ministry at Bonn was exactly what the new Bundeswehr wanted. He introduced himself as Herr Doktor Robert Schneider with degrees in medicine, philosophy, psychiatry and law. Unmarried and with a lucrative psychiatric practice in the city of Goslar, Schneider nevertheless wanted to become an army medical officer. "This will mean a personal sacri fice, but money has never been a part of my life," he said nobly. "One must have ideals." ,

That was three years ago. The army enthusiastically grabbed Schneider, appointed him a staff doctor with a major's salary. Top officers glowed about Schneider's "outstanding" abilities and moved him to the job of Sachbearbeiter fur psychologische Fragen (expert on psychological problems) at the Cologne induction center. There, he worked out a guidance handbook to help officers in screening volunteers for the army, boasted that his methods were used in the induction of 80,000 German soldiers. Said a brigadier general: "Schneider's work remains the basic pattern for the techniques of induction officers. As a creative worker in the field of military psychology, he has proven high capacity."

The Hoax. But armies also have bureaucracies. The Defense Ministry, completing its routine file, needed additional documentation on Schneider's German citizenship. The city officials of Goslar could find none, and thus began the first unraveling of a forged life that resulted last week in Robert Schneider's standing trial in Bonn for 52 cases of fraud, 25 cases of falsification of documents, and various charges of unlawfully assuming academic titles. While all Germany guffawed at the hoax pulled on the new German army, the state prosecutor indignantly stated that the accused was plain Robert Schneider, 39, a house painter, carpet beater and handyman from Vienna who had already served time in an Austrian jail for earlier forgeries.

In court Schneider at first was equally indignant, alleged that his "confession" had been extracted from him by the police "while I was under the influence of alcohol." But then he blandly admitted forging dozens of documents, ranging from "proof" that he had been in Nazi concentration camps to "proof" that he had served in the Nazi army. With an embarrassed smile, he agreed that he had used his own falsified army identification card in lectures showing troops how to avoid just such forgeries. Roared the judge: "Did you not become tired of making these forgeries?" Replied Schneider: "Not really, once I had done the first one, I felt it made no difference if I kept going."

Professional Praise. When the judge expressed amazement at the excellence of one forgery, Schneider turned red with pleasure and stood up and made a small bow towards the bench. Schneider also proudly explained how he avoided detection once. An orderly-room corporal had seen him pocket a rubber stamp for possible future use. With aplomb Schneider returned the stamp, explaining: "I was testing your psychological response."

The state's prosecutor confessed that, despite a year's research, he was only able to trace Schneider's movements with any accuracy back to the end of the war. Beyond that, "things were spotty." Prisoner Schneider sighed his agreement. "It is true," he admitted. "I have led a varied life."

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