Chap­ter 3 intro­duces Arpad Kovacs, a guard who replaces Andor Gut­man each night at six o’clock. Arpad is por­trayed as an ener­getic and extrav­a­gant indi­vid­ual, known for his ten­den­cy to boast. Upon begin­ning his shift, he eager­ly requests to see Gutman’s writ­ings, offer­ing praise with­out hav­ing actu­al­ly read them, walk­ing up and down the cor­ri­dor with an air of con­fi­dence and cheer­ful­ness. His actions project a sense of supe­ri­or­i­ty and a need to be seen as an impor­tant fig­ure, which con­trasts with the more sub­dued and somber atmos­phere around him. This dynam­ic sets the tone for the chap­ter, high­light­ing the stark dif­fer­ences between the two men, as Arpad tries to bol­ster his self-image by empha­siz­ing his own sur­vival and resilience dur­ing the Holo­caust. The casu­al demeanor with which he engages in these con­ver­sa­tions gives insight into his per­son­al­i­ty and beliefs.

Arpad uses a vivid metaphor to crit­i­cize those who pas­sive­ly accept­ed the Nazi regime, call­ing them “bri­quets,” a term imply­ing that they are eas­i­ly shaped and mold­ed by the pres­sures of the envi­ron­ment, much like bricks made from coal dust. He con­trasts this with his own actions, claim­ing that he took the ini­tia­tive to sur­vive by acquir­ing false papers and join­ing the Hun­gar­i­an S.S. This deci­sion, accord­ing to Arpad, set him apart from those who sim­ply went along with the regime’s demands. His dis­dain for pas­siv­i­ty and com­pla­cen­cy shapes his view on self-preser­va­tion, sug­gest­ing that sur­vival in such a bru­tal time required more than just endurance—it required active par­tic­i­pa­tion in one’s fate. He is unwa­ver­ing in his belief that tak­ing con­trol of his own des­tiny, no mat­ter the con­se­quences, was the only way to ensure his sur­vival. His views offer a glimpse into the moral com­plex­i­ties of those who nav­i­gat­ed life under the Nazi regime, as the need for self-preser­va­tion often led to dif­fi­cult deci­sions.

As the con­ver­sa­tion shifts to Gutman’s role as a Nazi radio pro­pa­gan­dist, Arpad’s ini­tial enthu­si­asm for the broad­casts quick­ly turns to dis­ap­point­ment. Upon review­ing a tran­script of one of Gutman’s broad­casts, Arpad dis­miss­es it, feel­ing that it lacks the inten­si­ty and con­vic­tion he would have expect­ed from such a plat­form. He had imag­ined the broad­casts to be more incen­di­ary, with a greater sense of dra­ma and per­sua­sive pow­er, but instead, he finds them lack­ing in the emo­tion­al charge he had antic­i­pat­ed. This reac­tion reflects his per­cep­tion of pow­er and effec­tive­ness, show­ing that he val­ues aggres­sive and impact­ful actions over sub­tle­ty or nuance. Arpad’s sur­prise at the lack of dra­mat­ic effect in the broad­casts serves as a reminder of the lim­its of pro­pa­gan­da, and the dis­con­nect between the ideals it attempts to pro­mote and the real­i­ties of its imple­men­ta­tion. It also demon­strates his own desire to be involved in some­thing that is seen as pow­er­ful and impact­ful, even if it means resort­ing to exag­ger­a­tion.

Arpad’s con­ver­sa­tion then shifts to his time with the Hun­gar­i­an S.S., where he recalls with pride that his Aryan appear­ance and loy­al­ty helped him avoid sus­pi­cion about his Jew­ish her­itage. He claims that no one ever sus­pect­ed his true iden­ti­ty, allow­ing him to work with­out the fear of expo­sure. His pride in his decep­tion grows as he recounts the work of his unit, which was tasked with uncov­er­ing poten­tial leaks with­in the S.S. regard­ing their plans for the Jew­ish pop­u­la­tion. He boasts that his unit’s actions led to the exe­cu­tion of four­teen S.S. men who were alleged­ly work­ing against the Nazi cause, a suc­cess that earned him praise from high-rank­ing offi­cials, includ­ing Eich­mann. His self-con­grat­u­la­tion reveals the com­plex­i­ty of his char­ac­ter, as he seems to take pride in his actions despite their moral­ly ambigu­ous nature. Arpad’s sto­ry serves to under­line the lengths some indi­vid­u­als were will­ing to go to in order to align them­selves with those in pow­er, using their posi­tion to fur­ther their own sur­vival.

As the con­ver­sa­tion con­cludes, Arpad express­es regret for not rec­og­niz­ing Eichmann’s sig­nif­i­cance at the time, sug­gest­ing that had he known how cru­cial Eich­mann would become, he would have killed him on the spot. This bit­ter reflec­tion high­lights the com­plex­i­ty of his moral com­pass, as he nav­i­gates the blurred lines between sur­vival and com­plic­i­ty. Arpad’s views on moral­i­ty and sur­vival are root­ed in a prag­mat­ic, almost cyn­i­cal approach to the world, where deci­sions are made based on what is best for the indi­vid­ual, regard­less of the larg­er con­se­quences. This chap­ter rais­es impor­tant ques­tions about iden­ti­ty, sur­vival, and com­plic­i­ty, espe­cial­ly in times of extreme pres­sure and uncer­tain­ty. It demon­strates how indi­vid­u­als in dire cir­cum­stances often make deci­sions based on self-preser­va­tion, some­times cross­ing moral bound­aries in the process. Arpad’s per­spec­tive offers a lens through which the com­plex­i­ties of wartime sur­vival and col­lab­o­ra­tion can be explored, with all its shades of gray and dif­fi­cult choic­es.