Fire and Steel, Volume 3 Read online

  “Okay,” Hans said slowly. This was a surprise, because Adolf’s work with the army involved propaganda, too, and he really seemed to enjoy what he was doing.

  “Come,” Adolf said, turning on his heel and opening the door. “We have much to do in this next hour.”

  Hans followed him down the stairs, through a narrow hallway, and to a small room that looked like a private dining room for ten or twelve people. There were two tables and some chairs. As Hans removed his coat and hung it over a chair, Adolf watched him solemnly. After they sat down, Adolf spoke. “You ready to butt some heads tonight?” he asked quietly.

  Hans reared back. “Literally or metaphorically?”

  Hitler laughed. “Ah, Hans. You are a delight. I assure you I am talking quite literally.”

  “You expect trouble?”

  “Ja, ja. We have sources that tell us the leading parties are sending some of their thugs to try to create trouble for us.”

  “How good are your sources?”

  “Credible. It’s going to happen. The only question is how much. The reports are that some of them have orders to do more than just heckle us. They’d like to shut us down completely, then splash it all over tomorrow’s papers so that we are totally discredited.”

  He abruptly stood up and began to pace back and forth. Hans watched him for a moment and then asked, “So what do we do?”

  “We make sure they don’t carry out their plans.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Stay alert. I want you circulating among the crowd and not down front with us. Six or seven of my comrades from the army are coming tonight. They plan to formally seek membership in the party at the end of the meeting. I’ve told them about what’s happening, and they’ll be ready to jump in as needed. They’ll all be in uniform. I’ll try to introduce you to them before we start.” He reached over to the chair where his overcoat was draped, fumbled for a moment, and brought out a short length of what looked like part of a shovel handle. Both ends had been rounded and smoothed. He handed it to Hans. “My friends brought an extra ‘persuader.’ Keep this under your jacket. Only take it out if things start to come apart.”

  Hans stared at the weapon for a moment and then took it and laid it on the table beside him.

  Seeing his expression, Adolf went on. “Ernst Roehm is aware of this and has some of the men that served under him prepared to act too. Follow his lead.”

  Roehm? Hans’s mind was swirling. Of course Adolf would turn to Roehm. In the first place, they were good friends. Roehm was one of Adolf’s staunchest supporters. Secondly, if troublemakers saw “The Bull” coming at them, with his scarred face and barrel-­chested frame, they’d probably wet their pants on the spot.

  “It’s a fine balance we need to strike here tonight, Hans, and that’s why I want you out in the crowd. Some people will have legitimate questions and concerns. We must not alienate them. On the other hand, we are trying to appeal to the laboring masses here, and they need to see that we are not intimidated by the fat cats who are in power.” His eyes narrowed. “Have you ever heard of social Darwinism?”

  Momentarily taken aback by such an abrupt change of topic, Hans nodded. “Sure. Herbert Spencer, right?”

  “Ja, among others.”

  “I studied it in a philosophy class at the Von Kruger Academy. The application of what Charles Darwin observed in nature, that only the strongest and the fittest survive. He believed this is nature’s way of making sure that the species survives. Only the best have their seed propagated. Spencer applied that idea to human society, especially noting that white Europeans were more advanced culturally, politically, economically, and in the sciences and the arts. You name it, they are clearly more advanced. And Spencer believed Caucasians are the inherently superior race because for many centuries they did not mingle their seed with weaker groups.”

  “Ja, ja! But I like the term Aryan more than Caucasian. We Germans, along with the Nordic countries and the English, all of whom are Aryans, are the prime example of that racial superiority, and that is why the Germanic peoples have survived for so long.”

  That didn’t surprise Hans. Adolf frequently spoke of the Aryan race and its importance. But he was puzzled why he had brought it up now. Adolf seemed to see that on his face. “So, apply those same principles to political parties. If we are to succeed, not just tonight, but in our quest for recognition and power, then we too must fulfill the law of survival of the fittest. We must show that we are the strongest, that we are the quickest in this dark jungle we call politics. If we can be shouted down by a few rowdy Bolshies or have our noses bloodied by the Communists and their whorish Jewish supporters, then the workers will turn on us, just like wolves will turn on one of their own if he cannot keep up with the pack.”

  Adolf picked up the “persuader” and started tapping it softly against his open palm. “I’m not talking about a few hecklers who try to shout us down, Hans. They are like mosquitos. You simply swat them away. I’m talking about those who are committed to destroying us. And make no mistake, that is what they will try to do. Whether we will have any of them here tonight or not, I cannot say. But if we do. . . .”

  Suddenly he slammed the stick against the palm of his hand so hard that it cracked sharply enough to echo in the room. It must have stung like fury, but he didn’t even glance at either the stick or his hand. He handed it to Hans. “You know what to do, ja?”

  Hans didn’t hesitate. He took the stick and slipped it in his back pocket beneath his jacket. “I do.”

  February 24, 1920, 7:15 p.m.—Munich Hofbrauhaus Keller

  The noise hit them before they even started up the stairs to the Festsaal. Halfway up, Adolf stopped, head cocked to one side, listening intently. He spun around to face Hans. “Do you hear that?” he asked joyously.

  Hans laughed. How could they not hear it? It filled the entire restaurant, and even the walls seemed to tremble. It was that deep, earthy rumble that comes when many people are gathered together in one place. Adolf sprinted up the stairs. Hans followed.

  Ernst Roehm and Dietrich Eckart were standing outside the twin doors ushering people in. Several men in army uniforms were nearby, scrutinizing the crowd as they moved through the doors. Hans gave them a closer look and thought he could detect the shape of “persuaders” under their jackets as well.

  “Are we filling up?” Adolf called as they reached the upper floor.

  “No!” Eckart shouted back with a wolfish grin. “We are full already! With people standing along the back walls. And with fifteen minutes still to go.” He grabbed Adolf’s hand and shook it vigorously up and down and then pounded him on the back. “Two thousand, Adolf. You were right. They came. You did it!”

  “Wunderbar!” Adolf shouted back at him. Then he turned to Roehm. “Have the enemy shown up?”

  “Ja, ja!” he exclaimed, obviously relishing the answer. “I think I recognized several from the Social Democratic Party or the Bavarian People’s Party.”

  “Gut! Gut! Those we cannot convert, we will send packing with their tails between their legs.” The excitement in his voice made his voice a little shrill. “Are you ready, then?”

  Roehm’s head, which was like a block of stone attached to a tree trunk, turned as he smiled, waving at the men who stood back, watching the people as they passed. “We have already taken note of possible troublemakers. My men will seat themselves around the hall and react swiftly if the need arises. And we have your soldier friends as well. They too will be circulating.”

  Adolf took Hans by the arm and pulled him forward. “I have asked Hans here to mingle with the crowd as well. He fought with the Freikorps that put down the uprisings both here and in Berlin.”

  Roehm nodded, respect evident in his eyes. “Gut.” He turned to Adolf. “This is it, my friend. I can feel it. This is the night.”

  “Aye,” Ad
olf said solemnly. “And we must seize the moment.” He turned to Hans. “Thank you for your help on my speech. Pray that it goes well.” Then, before Hans could answer, he turned and plunged into the hall, pressing his way forward through the crowd.

  8:25 p.m.

  Once, during an intense artillery barrage along the Siegfried Line, a French 155-mm artillery shell landed in a foxhole not ten feet away from where Hans was huddled in the mud. Two of his platoon members were in the foxhole, and the shell landed between them with a tremendous impact, splattering them with mud and water to the point that they weren’t recognizable. But the shell didn’t go off. It was a dud.

  As Dr. Johannes Dingfelder finished his forty-two-minute speech, Hans thought of that night. Dingfelder, a homeopathic physician, and a complete crackpot in Hans’s mind, was a friend of Herr Harrer, and he had invited him to speak. Even after the pouting Harrer resigned as president, he still argued that Dingfelder should be their closing speaker and that Adolf should go first. Fortunately, the rest of the committee stood with Adolf, who insisted on being the concluding speaker.

  And a good thing they did. Dingfelder’s speech, which droned on and on, was a complete dud. By ten minutes into it, no one was listening. Hans saw people reading the handbill that had brought them here or staring at the pictures on the wall. Many were dozing off, and Hans saw one man trying to trim his fingernails with his pocketknife. Another had removed his wet shoes and was massaging his toes to get them warm. As Dingfelder thanked the crowd and shuffled back to his seat, there was not a sound. No one moved. But there was a sense of enormous relief. Now they were curious about what would happen next.

  You’d better do something, Adolf. If you don’t wake them up, they’re either going to walk out on you or die of boredom where they are.

  Fortunately, when Anton Drexler introduced Adolf as their next speaker, he wisely focused on his war record, summing it up in quick, precise sentences. At the mention of two Iron Crosses, the men in the hall straightened, their eyes fixed upon Adolf as he came to the podium. He solemnly shook hands with Drexler and then turned and let his eyes sweep across the crowd.

  “Ladies and gentleman,” he began, his voice soft enough that those in the back leaned forward to hear better.

  Gut, thought Hans. He had noticed that there was a scattering of women throughout the crowd and had decided he would try to get Emilee to come to a meeting soon.

  “Thank you for coming tonight. It is gratifying to see this large hall filled to its capacity.”

  “Then get on it with it,” a voice from the back shouted out. “We’re dying of boredom here.”

  Laughter rang out and there was scattered applause.

  “Oh, my friend,” Adolf said gravely, “you are dying of things far worse than that. Bavaria is dying right before our eyes, and many here are too blind to see that.”

  That was not what they had expected, and a murmur rippled through the crowd.

  His voice shot up in volume as he shook his fist at them. “And some of you who are here tonight are the very ones who are poisoning the lifeblood of our people.”

  Hans was caught completely off guard with the suddenness of Adolf’s attack. The crowd too was momentarily stunned. But almost instantly, all across the audience men shot to their feet and were shouting at him. A man in the row in front of Hans was on his feet and leaning forward, his face a mask of fury. “Liar!” he screamed. Then he let loose a stream of profanity.

  “Whoremonger!” cried someone else.

  “Nationalist pigs!” shouted another.

  “Traitor!” “Cowards!” “Right-wing trash!” All around him men were hurling insults, barbs, slurs, and vile words at the man standing at the podium. Hans, who had taken a seat on the aisle, reached beneath his jacket and fingered the “persuader.” Adolf had warned them not to react to the hecklers but to wait for real trouble.

  As Hans watched, though, he saw that the man just in front of him was reaching into his jacket pocket. For a moment, Hans thought he was going for a gun and withdrew the stick. Seeing that, the men on both sides of him shrank back. But when the man ahead of him withdrew his hand from his jacket, Hans saw that it was only a rotten apple that he held. The man leaped to his feet and cocked his arm back, screaming invectives.

  In one smooth movement, Hans swung the stick, striking the man on his elbow. The man screamed, and the apple dropped from his hand and splattered on the floor, filling the area around them with its rancid smell. Hans grabbed him, his fingers digging into the muscles of the man’s shoulder, and pushed him out into the aisle. “My friend,” he hissed, “you are welcome to stay and hear what the speaker has to say. You don’t have to agree with him. But you will listen politely, or you will leave here with a knot on your head. Do you understand me?”

  Shocked into speechlessness, the man glared at Hans for a moment. Then, swearing under his breath, he turned and started for the nearest doorway. One of Hitler’s army comrades came quickly over and escorted him out of the hall. As Hans sat down again, the man next to him jabbed him with his elbow. “Thank you,” was all he said as he gave Hans a nod of approval.

  Hans saw that in the other sections, there were several other minor skirmishes under way. Near the back door, three or four men stood toe to toe with Roehm’s men, shouting at each other as they were dragged to the doorways and shoved through them. Down the center aisle, a tall, slightly built man burst free from the restraints of two of Adolf’s army pals and ran up the aisle toward the speaker’s podium. Hans gave a cry and leaped to his feet again. But Adolf had seen the man coming too. He stepped out from behind the podium and planted himself in the path of the attacker, squaring his shoulders and raising his fists like a boxer. Seeing that, the man’s steps slowed, and then he stopped. Hans couldn’t hear what Adolf shouted at him because of the noise, but there was no mistaking the invitation to keep advancing. The man changed his mind and backed away. When two other soldiers started for him, he quickly sat down again and raised his hands in surrender. The solders immediately backed off. Adolf returned to the podium and calmly began reviewing his notes while the disturbance gradually died out. There were still some who were muttering and shaking their fists, but they stayed in their seats, and so Adolf began again.

  “My friends and fellow Bavarians,” he began, “one of the great pillars of our society is the right to free speech and free assembly. Even the hated Treaty of Versailles reaffirms these fundamental freedoms. We neither expect nor demand that you agree with what our party has to say. And you have the freedom to express that disagreement openly if you wish. The right to heckle and openly jeer someone we disagree with is also protected by our constitution.” He smiled faintly. “And that trait seems to be given to all Germans along with their mother’s milk.”

  Laughter broke out across the room, but someone near the front shouted, “That’s right, so why are you throwing people out?”

  “Because they do not have the right to disrupt our meetings and prevent us from exercising our right to speak as we wish,” Adolf said coldly. “And if anyone here still has that as your personal objective—to stop this meeting from going forward—then stand up and we will settle it here and now. For, as you can see, we are determined to exercise our right to speak to the people who have come to hear what we have to say.”

  There was a smattering of applause and voices called out. “Yes! Speak on.”

  “Throw the Marxists bums out.”

  “Let him speak.”

  “We want to hear what you have to say.”

  As those cries rang out, Hans saw five or six men who were seated in various places around the hall get up and leave, their heads down and eyes focused on the floor.

  Adolf waited until the hall quieted again and then continued. “Our purpose here tonight is to let you know that there is a new political party here in Bavaria. A party of the laboring classes, a party o
f the people.”

  “Hear, hear!” someone shouted.

  “And we have promised you a clear picture of how and why we choose to stand with the people in this struggle. Therefore, we, as a party, have drafted a statement of what we stand for and how we plan to restore our glorious Fatherland to the greatness of years past. We have nothing to hide. I shall lay out our position in plain and simple language, in the form of twenty-five theses that represent what we stand for. Then we shall leave it for you to judge whether we mean what we say.”

  That seemed to take them by surprise, and they quickly quieted. Hans got up and moved to the back of the hall where he could keep an eye on the audience, but he sensed that the openly hostile opposition was mostly over. Okay, Adolf. They’re listening. Do your stuff.

  “Thesis one: We demand the union of all Germans into one great and glorious German nation, and we do this on the basis of the principle that people have the right of self-determination.”

  That was clearly not what the audience had been expecting. For a moment there was no response. Then a young man, a university student perhaps, got slowly to his feet. “It is a noble idea, but I believe that our hope lies in a free and independent Bavaria. We’re tired of having Berlin dictate what we can and cannot do.”

  “Danke, my young friend,” Hitler said easily. “I am not a native-­born Bavarian. I was born just across the border in Austria, but Bavaria is my adopted home, and I consider myself more Bavarian than Austrian. And yet, for all of my love for this state, I know that Bavaria can never be a great nation on her own. Only as its people join with all other Germanic peoples can we rise again to the greatness we knew in the Second Reich under Bismarck.”

  More applause. Bismarck was a nice touch. He was one of the great heroes in the eyes of the people. The young man was shaking his head, but he was obviously impressed that Adolf had treated his comment with respect.

  “Thesis two: We demand that the German people have rights equal to those of other nations and that the peace treaties of Versailles and St. Germain be abolished immediately.”