Out of the Smoke Page 16

  Now here it was seven days later. He had finally paid to get his suit pressed and his laundry done overnight. The travel office was going to raise a stink when they saw that bill. Then he had another thought. He reached back and patted his wallet, trying to remember if he had enough money for taxi fare. He did, just barely. Unless there was bad traffic.

  Still grumping to himself, he got off the train. It was raining steadily—as it had been all the way down—and since Hans hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella, he made a dash across the platform into the train station, looking around for Emilee. He had called her last night and given her his arrival time, and she had promised she would be here. And now nothing. Nowhere in sight. He felt like kicking something. Anything. Where was a dog when you needed one?

  “Hans?”

  He turned around. To his surprise, Alemann Zeidner was coming toward him at a swift walk. “Guten Morgen,” the man called with a big smile.

  “Alemann? What are you doing here?”

  “I came to fetch a tired and weary passenger from Berlin and give him a ride home.”

  “But—”

  Alemann chuckled. “Emilee was talking on the phone last night to Richelle and mentioned that she had to pick you up this morning. So I called her and said that since it is Saturday, I am free and would like to pick you up instead. I hope that’s all right.”

  “Ja! Of course. Thank you.”

  “So sorry for being a little late. There was some kind of demonstration down at Marienplatz.”

  Hans gripped Alemann’s hand and shook it warmly. “No problem. Good to see you, Alemann.”

  “And you, my friend. But in the spirit of full disclosure, I must admit that the historian in me is hoping that I might engage you in a conversation about what has been happening in Berlin. I am so envious of you, Hans. History is being made, and you are right at the center of it.”

  “And making no difference whatsoever,” he muttered.

  “That matters not one whit to me. You were there. You were an eyewitness.” They were walking toward the main doors of the train station. Alemann slowed his step and looked at Hans. “By the way, Richelle and Emilee heard about a large sale at one of the big woodcarving shops down in Oberammergau, so they took all the kids and went south for the day. They’re going to stop off and see your family too. Emilee did that partly so that you could sleep as long as you want this afternoon. But. . . .” Alemann hesitated. “Did you get breakfast on the train?”

  “Well, supposedly, that’s what they called it. A stale, hard roll and a cup of tepid, foul-tasting coffee.”

  “Then would you let me buy you breakfast on the way home? Repay you a little for letting me intrude into your life and pump you for information?”

  Hans considered that for a moment. He was exhausted, and a day without anyone at the house sounded incredibly wonderful. But he was also hungry. He had met this man for the first time just three months ago, but an unusual bond had quickly formed between them and he now considered Alemann to be one of his closest friends. The same was true of their wives and their daughters. So Hans smiled and said, “I would love the company, but no need for you to pay.”

  The look Alemann shot him told him that there was no way Hans would be paying for anything. And that was all right with him.

  10:44 a.m.—Old Town Biergarten,

  Old Town District, Munich

  Until the waitress came and took their order, Alemann kept the conversation light, mostly going on and on about how their daughters and wives had become such good friends in such a short time. And even after their food arrived, he seemed content to let Hans eat in peace for a time.

  Finally, as most of their food disappeared, Alemann looked at him and smiled. “Again, Hans, thank you for taking this time with me. Believe it or not, I consider this a unique opportunity for me. If I may speak candidly, with some of the fellow academics, especially the younger ones who are so enamored with their own credentials, I wonder sometimes if there is a single original thought anywhere to be found in the whole lot of them.”

  That caused Hans to hoot softly. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Are you sure you’re not talking about some of the people I work with?”

  And that seemed to be the kind of answer Alemann was hoping for, for he sat back and studied Hans thoughtfully. “So tell me, Hans. Did you actually get to sit in on the meetings in the Reichstag? I’ve seen pictures of the interior. The main hall looks very impressive. Is it in reality?”

  “Oh, yes. I was stunned when I first walked in, to be honest. I stood there gaping like a schoolboy. The dome is over ten stories high. And the hall fits over six hundred delegates, plus staff members. So it is huge. It has beautiful walnut paneling on the lower walls so that the acoustics are remarkable.”

  “But here is what is puzzling me, Hans. The Reichstag was dissolved before they had been in session even a full hour, causing President Hindenburg to call for new elections in November. Which, according to what you said last week, is the very last thing in the world that you wanted.”

  “That’s right. And I was deeply shocked when I learned what had happened. But as circumstances developed, there really was no other choice. Had I been a delegate, I would have voted for dissolution myself.”

  “Oh?” Alemann said, his eyebrows rising. “That surprises me. Tell me about it, Hans. This is what fascinates me. The papers have not given much of the behind-the-scenes details.”

  Hans sat back, a weary grin on his face. “You sure you’ve got the time to hear it all? It’s complicated.”

  “I do. And I am anxious for it. Take whatever time you are willing to give me.”

  Just then the waitress came by with a pot of coffee and two cups. Hans sat back, collecting his thoughts while she filled their cups. When she left again, he picked up his cup, blew on it softly, took a sip, and began.

  “Okay. Let me give you a little background before I talk about what happened in Parliament last Monday. To understand why it happened, let’s go back to the July election and what followed, for that is what led up to the debacle that took place in Berlin this week.”

  “It is puzzling from where I sit,” Alemann agreed. “Hitler is such a brilliant political strategist—whether you agree with his philosophy or not. But a deal with the Communists to dissolve Parliament the day after it convenes? This is the party that he has been most bitterly opposed to and has threatened numerous times to totally destroy. So from an outsider’s viewpoint, it appears to be an enormous blunder of the same magnitude as perhaps the Beer Hall Putsch. But that is likely because I don’t understand all that was going on.”

  “Ja,” Hans said glumly. “No question about the damage that was done. And how that is going to impact the polls. My job now is to mitigate that damage as much as possible, but just between you and me, I am not very optimistic. Nor excited. This will be our fourth election this year. Makes me want to move to America where they only have national elections every two years. But in this case, mistakes that Hitler made immediately after the election led the party down a path where there was no other choice. So again, let’s go back to the elections.

  “As you can imagine, when the election results came in, Hitler was absolutely euphoric, almost giddy. In one fell stroke, we became the largest political party in the Fatherland. We jumped from 107 seats to 270. Even though that was not a full majority, we all thought it was enough to give us the clout we needed. And so, the Big Five, as we call them, raced off to Berlin to set to work forming a coalition government. Hitler fully expected to be made chancellor before the week was out.”

  Hans grinned. “And me? I loaded my family into the car and went off to Lake Como for a well-deserved vacation. We were there until the week before school started. So I wasn’t up there when all of this took place, but they filled me in.”

  He glanced around the restaurant almost furtively, checking
for familiar faces, and then scooted his chair closer to Alemann and lowered his voice. “When Hitler got to Berlin, he was offered the vice-chancellorship by President von Hindenburg. This was a major concession on Hindenburg’s part because he views the National Socialist Party as bunch of rebels and Cretans. But with 270 seats, Hindenburg couldn’t just ignore Hitler, either. So the president’s plan was to keep Chancellor von Papen in place and make Hitler vice-chancellor, where they could keep a rein on him. This would acknowledge the Nazi success but keep the chancellorship in the hands of a man loyal to the president.

  “As I’m sure you know, Papen is one of the weakest chancellors in the history of Germany. Even his friends consider him to be a buffoon, a joke. Personally, I think Hindenburg keeps him there because he poses no threat to the president.”

  “That and the fact that their families are longtime friends,” Alemann added.

  “Yes, that too. But anyway, Hitler was absolutely incensed with an offer he viewed as an insulting slap in the face.” Hans lowered his voice even more. “And to put it frankly, this is where his own ego got in the way. He demanded a personal meeting with the president. This was before had even began to try to form a coalition government. So he had no leverage. But no, in his eyes, he had a mandate from the people, and so he demanded he receive the chancellorship.”

  “And did the president meet with him?”

  “Yes. But the ever-imperious Hindenburg wouldn’t even ask Adolf to sit down, didn’t even offer him a chair. He kept him standing like a schoolboy before the headmaster. Again he offered the vice-chancellorship to Adolf but said that he couldn’t trust him with the full power of government because Hitler couldn’t even keep his own party members in line.”

  “Ah,” Alemann said. “A reference to Ernst Roehm and the Sturmabteilung, no?”

  “Exactly. Hitler has been trying to rein him and his storm troopers in, but Roehm can be like a wild bull at times, and if Adolf pushes him too hard, he could turn on him. With half a million members now, that is not an idle possibility.

  “So anyway, all of that made the president very leery. But Hitler was livid, of course. He left the office and immediately met with the various leaders of the centrist parties. And he did manage to cobble together enough of a coalition to elect Hermann Goering as president of the Reichstag.”

  “Which was a brilliant move,” Alemann chimed in. “That position can be pivotal in how the government functions.”

  “Precisely right. By the way, Emilee says that you and Richelle are Catholic?”

  The question seemed to catch Alemann by surprise. “Yes. Not fully observant, but committed.”

  “So is the Catholic Center Party your party, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Yes, it is. And a lot of the members of our party didn’t like the fact that our leaders were cuddling up to Hitler.”

  “Hardly cuddling up. They were pretty cool to the Führer and his cronies. But, as the old saying goes, ‘Politics makes for strange bedfellows.’ So for the vote for president of the Reichstag, they joined with the National Socialists. It was enough to give Hitler his first real political victory.”

  “And it was no mean accomplishment,” Alemann Zeidner said. “President of the Reichstag is nothing to be sneezed at.”

  “Exactly, and having him there proved to be critical in the events that unfolded this last week. So anyway, frustrated that they had been denied the chancellorship, Hitler and his inner circle left Berlin and went to Berchtesgaden, where the party elites have a mountain retreat. They returned to Berlin a week later and went back to work on trying to assemble a coalition government. That was when General von Schleicher, commander-in-chief of the army, secretly came to Hitler and proposed a solution.”

  Alemann had read about this. “Schleicher’s plan was to convince Hindenburg to abandon Papen because he is so weak and ineffective and to choose a new chancellor?”

  “Precisely. The only problem was that Hitler thought he was offering him the chancellorship in exchange for Schleicher getting the plum cabinet post of minister of defense. Hitler was happy about that and thought that Schleicher would be too. That’s probably the second most powerful post to have.”

  “But Schleicher was aiming a little higher than Hitler assumed, right?”

  “Yes. The general made that very clear, offering Adolf the vice-chancellorship, with him being, ever so humbly, the new chancellor. Which was a stab in the back for Papen. That old fool thought he was to remain as chancellor. Anyway, Hitler was livid, absolutely refusing to take second best. Only now, we’re just days away from the Reichstag’s opening session. This set up another political impasse and a major crisis. Which brings us to last weekend.

  “It was late Sunday night when Goebbels called me and said my presence was requested by the Führer. ‘Requested’ was a euphemism, of course. So, I left last Sunday morning. When I arrived that night, around 7:30, they took me directly from the train station to the Reichstag Presidential Palace, which is now Hermann’s Goering’s residence since he is the president of Parliament. When I arrived, I was thinking that this might be my residence for the night and that we would meet in the morning. I was wrong. The inner circle was already meeting.” He shook his head, remembering that moment. “And I walked right into the middle of it, like a lamb walking into a den of wolves.”

  They were interrupted as a waitress brought them the bill and Alemann paid her. They waited until she left again and then Alemann leaned in close. “Sorry, Hans, but you can’t stop now. Tell me again who constitutes the circle. Hitler, of course, and Goering. And I assume Joseph Goebbels, your boss.”

  “Ja ja. And Rudolf Hess and Hans Frank. He’s the party’s legal counsel. He’s the attorney who defended us in the Beer Hall Putsch trial. He’s a highly trusted confidant of Adolf’s.”

  “But not Ernst Roehm? I thought he was part of that group.”

  “He is. But he wasn’t there that night, which I thought was strange. I wondered if Adolf had specifically not invited him. Anyway—”

  “I’m sorry,” Alemann cut in again. “But this is so fascinating to me, Hans. I notice that often you call Hitler by his first name. If you don’t mind me asking, do you do that in his presence?”

  “Oh, no. Not anymore. In the early years, that’s all I ever called him. Now, if I am addressing him directly, it is always as mein Führer. Usually if I am referring to him when I’m with others, it’s the Führer or Herr Hitler.”

  “Is that at his request?”

  Hans shook his head slowly, recalling the time several years ago when in a meeting of the leading council, he had slipped and called him Adolf. Hitler had turned slowly and given Hans a look that caused his face to flush. The man never said a word, but that was the last time Hans had made that mistake. He looked at Alemann. “Not exactly, but he made it clear that he preferred something more formal.”

  “I see. I apologize for the interruption. Go on.”

  Hans drained the rest of his coffee and absently pushed his cup away, his mind going back to the moment he walked into that conference room.

  September 11, 1932, 7:56 p.m.—Reichstag Presidential Palace, Berlin

  When Hans rushed in, having come straight from the train station, Adolf, Hermann Goering, and Rudolf Hess were standing near a side table. On the other side of the small conference table, Joseph Goebbels and Hans Frank sat together conversing quietly. The side table contained various decanters of wine and liquor along with numerous crystal glasses of different shapes and sizes. Adolf, as usual, had a cup of steaming tea. The rest had wine or liquor of one sort or another. As the aide shut the door behind Hans, Goering motioned toward the bottles, but Hans shook his head. “I’m fine.” The last thing he needed right now was a muddled head.

  Hitler came over, hand outstretched. His eyes had dark circles beneath them and he looked very tired. “Were you able to sleep
on the train?”

  A little thrown, Hans smiled. “I didn’t know that was possible, mein Führer.”

  Hitler tipped his head back and laughed. “Ah, Hans. It is good to see you again. No one else can make me laugh as you do.”

  Hans glanced at the others. “Is that a good thing?” he asked with a straight face.

  Adolf roared with laughter and clapped him on the shoulder. “Ja, ja. Right now it is. Clearly no one else is doing it.”

  As they moved toward the small conference table, Goering came over and grasped Hans’s hand. “Thank you for coming, Hans. We know it was on a minute’s notice. Did you bring your presentation on election trends with you?”

  “I did, Hermann, but surely there’s not another election scheduled?”

  They exchanged glances, but no one said anything. Hans sat down next to Goebbels.

  “Let’s get to it, then,” Adolf said. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Roehm is due back in half an hour, and we need to catch Hans up on what’s been happening before he returns.”

  Adolf leaned forward, his face grim now. “We came up here anticipating the opening of this season’s Reichstag session. But what we’ve run into is some very bad news.” He turned. “Hermann, catch Hans up on what’s been happening.”

  Goering nodded grimly as he turned to face Hans. “Right now we find ourselves locked on the horns of a very serious dilemma. And that is an understatement. On the horns of a potentially catastrophic dilemma would be a better way to say it. It will present itself tomorrow morning during the opening session. Or more accurately, as the opening session begins.” He glanced at Hitler. “Please jump in here if I miss something.”

  Hitler nodded but said nothing, so Goering continued. “To better understand the nature of this crisis, you need to understand that there has still been no progress in forming a coalition government or getting Hindenburg to accept the Führer as our new chancellor. We’ve tried everything, including an alliance with the Catholic Centrists, but they keep demanding things that we are not willing to give, such as key posts in a new cabinet. So that bumbling fool, Papen, with General Schleicher whispering in his ear, is still in control.”