The Proud Shall Stumble Read online

  Hans sighed, forcing his attention back to Roehm. Blunt to the point of rudeness, stubborn as a brick wall when he felt strongly about things, Ernst got along well enough with Hans. But Hans did not consider him a friend, only an associate, even though he had a lot of respect for the man. Hans saw now that Roehm was not listening to the others but staring out the window into the darkness. Hans guessed where his thoughts were. Ernst would be leaving shortly to lead his men across the river. The S.A. was tasked with seizing the Ministry of Defense and neutralizing the Bavarian Army, the Reichswehr. That was of critical importance. If they didn’t have the army on their side, they had to at least neutralize them. And Roehm was Adolf’s choice to do that. It was a choice with which Hans totally agreed.

  Next to Roehm was Rudolf Hess, another war veteran who had been wounded several times in battle. Hess, who was just a couple of years older than Hans, was one of the party’s “intellectuals.” He had joined the party early in 1920 after hearing Adolf speak at a political rally. The son of a wealthy merchant, Hess had spent his first fourteen years in Egypt, where his father ran his business. His family’s situation changed when the British expropriated his father’s business after the war, and they returned to Germany. He had attended the University of Munich for a time and studied history and economics. Like Hans, Rudolf had joined a Freikorps unit after the war and fought against the Communist revolutions that swept across the country. He was strongly anti-Semitic and had picked up the concept of lebensraum, or “living space,” from one of his university professors. The idea was that Aryan Germans needed greater living space than what was available in Germany, which justified Germany forcefully annexing additional territory in Eastern Europe. This was a concept that fit nicely into Adolf’s own political philosophy, so Hess had quickly risen to become part of the inner circle. Not being very political by nature, Hans wasn’t sure how he felt about the idea. But he liked Hess, and over the past few years they had engaged in many stimulating discussions about history, politics, and the world in general.

  Hans started a little as he saw that Hess was motioning for him to come over to the table. After a moment, he shrugged and did so. As soon as he sat down, Hess spoke. “Hans, you’ve got to do something. We’re wasting time.”

  “Me?” He glanced over at Adolf, who was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he had barely taken notice when Hans had moved over and joined the three at the table. “What can I do?”

  “Go talk to him. That meeting at the beer hall is going to be over,” Roehm growled, “and our three birds are going to fly the coop. And then we may as well all go home and get some sleep.”

  “I agree. But isn’t Maurice over there right now trying to find out if they’re actually there or not?”

  “Of course,” Goering said, “but Maurice has been gone almost an hour. And here we sit.”

  Maurice was Emil Maurice, Adolf’s personal chauffeur and bodyguard. A watchmaker by trade, Maurice was another one of those early members of the German Workers’ Party. Adolf and Maurice had quickly bonded and Maurice had been appointed the first commander of the newly formed stormtroopers. Earlier this year, Adolf had made Emil a member of the Stabswache, or “Staff Guard,” a small group of elite bodyguards who were tasked with the personal safety of the Führer.

  So earlier this evening, Adolf had sent Maurice over to the Bürgerbräukeller to see if all three leaders of the “Emergency Govern­ment” of Bavaria were there. A large gathering of businessmen was there to hear Gustav von Kahr, the new head of the Bavarian state government. Earlier in the year, the Weimar Govern­ment had surprised the people by taking a defiant stand against France’s occupation of the Ruhr Valley, a major and critical industrial area in Germany. They had told the people there to engage in passive resistance and had funneled funds to help them do so. They had also stopped the payment of war reparations to the Allies. This action greatly pleased the people, and feelings toward the government had softened considerably, even though the horrendous inflation continued.

  But in September, under threat of invasion if war reparation payments were not immediately resumed, the Chancellor of the German Republic had called for an end to the resistance and promised to start payments again. The reaction from the people was immediate and furious, and fearing widespread unrest, the government declared a state of emergency and transferred all executive power to the Minister of Defense and the Commanding General of the Reichswehr. In one stroke of the pen, the army had been given virtual dictatorial power over all of Germany.

  Bavaria, which already seethed with resentment against the national government, refused to accept Berlin’s dictates. They declared their own state of emergency and created a triumvirate of men to govern the state and maintain order until the emergency passed. The three new leaders were Gustav von Kahr, a former prime minister; General Otto von Lossow, commander of the Bavarian State Reichswehr; and Colonel Hans von Seisser, head of the Bavarian State Police. The three of them jointly controlled all power in Bavaria now.

  At first, the three new leaders openly took a stand against the national government and accepted invitations from extreme right-wing parties to join in an attempt to overthrow the government in Berlin. Then they defiantly refused to acknowledge Berlin’s orders to shut down such subversive and dangerous anti-­government actions, especially those of Adolf Hitler and the National Socialists. When Berlin responded by mobilizing the national army, the new leaders got cold feet and backed away from the very groups with whom they had been collaborating. That was when Adolf and his Kampfbund alliance decided to take matters into their own hands. The plan was to kidnap the three leaders and force them to join the revolution. But they had to make sure the leaders were actually there in the Bürgerbräu before they stormed the place.

  “Well?” Roehm snapped, cutting into Hans’s thoughts. “What are we going to do?”

  “Have we not heard anything from Maurice?” Hans asked in reply.

  Goering grunted, nodding in Adolf’s direction. “Does it look like he’s heard from him?”

  Hans didn’t need to look. Instead he turned to a table a few feet away. Here were four men that Hans had privately dubbed “Adolf’s street toughs.” Three were in uniform; one was not. Ulrich Graf was a former butcher’s apprentice and town clerk in Munich. He was an amateur wrestler, hard drinker, and brawler who loved a good fistfight even more than he loved his steins of lager. He was now one of the Führer’s personal bodyguards.

  Another bodyguard was Christian Weber. He had once been a seller of horses and then became a bouncer at a well-known Munich dive. Like Graf, he loved a good knock-down, drag-’em-out fight. And now he too protected his Führer. The third man was Max Amann. With his bull neck and piggish eyes, he could intimidate people with a mere glance. His filthy mouth and uncouth personality often offended people, even many in the party. But he had been Adolf’s first sergeant during the war, and, like most sergeants, he was a good organizer. He was now the party’s business manager and treasurer.

  The fourth man at the table was Julius Streicher. He wore a business suit. He had rushed down from Nuremberg yesterday when he heard there might be a coup in the works. Streicher had formed his own right-wing party up north and then joined it to the National Socialists a year or so later after hearing Adolf at a rally. He had a quick mind and a keen intellect, and he published his own political newspaper in Nuremberg. Hans did not care for any of these men, but Streicher was the worst. He was violently anti-Semitic, and his newspaper published the most lurid, outrageous, and ridiculous accusations against the Jews. To attack the Bolshevik-Jewish conspiracy that was controlling politics in Germany, Russia, France, Britain, and even America was one thing in Hans’s mind, but Streicher’s hatred for Jews and anything Jewish seemed pathological.

  Hess spoke up. “Do you know what I think? I think Maurice can’t get into the hall because he’s in uniform. I’ll bet you ten marks”—he stopped and fr
owned—“sorry, make that ten billion marks that they have guards at the doors and won’t let him in.”

  “Hmm,” Roehm said, nodding. “Hadn’t thought of that, but I think you’re right.” He turned and looked over at the other table. “Streicher’s not in uniform. Let’s send him over.”

  Hess snorted in disgust. “He’s put his own picture in that newspaper of his so many times, everyone knows he’s one of us.” Then he looked directly at Hans. “But you’re not in uniform.”

  Hans jerked back. “Me?”

  “Yeah,” Goering said, eyeing him closely. “Why is that? You always wear your uniform to meetings.”

  Hess answered for him. “Remember, Hermann. Hans’s father just passed away after some shysters stole his farm from him.”

  “Oh,” Goering said. “Of course. Sorry, Hans. I had forgotten that the funeral was today.”

  “No need to apologize, Hermann. After what you did to get our farm back, my family owes you a great debt.”

  Goering had led the small team that had located the crooked real estate agent. Hans didn’t know for sure what they had done to the man, but he had signed and notarized the papers returning the farm to the Eckhardts and then fled across the border into Austria.

  “That was the Führer’s doing,” Goering said with a dismissive wave. “We just carried out his wishes.” He grinned as he clenched his fist and pounded it into his other hand. “Though I do have to admit that it gave us great satisfaction to do so to that bottom-­feeding slime bag.” Then he quickly sobered. “So why don’t you go, Hans?”

  Hess was on his feet. “If the Führer agrees, are you willing to go to the beer hall and slip inside? See if you can find out what we need to know?”

  “Of course. I’d be willing to do just about anything to get this show on the road.”

  Hess strode across the room and confronted Adolf. There was a quick, whispered conversation, and then both men came swiftly back.

  Adolf looked at Hans. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  “I am.” Hans got to his feet. But just then, the door to their meeting room crashed open and Emil Maurice rushed in. “They wouldn’t let me into the hall,” he cried as he reached Adolf. “I think someone recognized me. I had to leave in a hurry.”

  “Did you see any of the three leaders?” Adolf snapped irritably.

  “Kahr was just starting his speech as I left, but I couldn’t get close enough to confirm whether the other two are there.”

  Adolf swore bitterly and swung around to Hans. “Get some kind of cap that you can pull down low over your eyes, and get over there.” He turned to Maurice. “You get out there and get the men ready. Hermann, you and Ernst, too. The moment Hans confirms it, I want us on the move.”

  “I’ll need the telephone number here,” Hans said. “I’ll call you from there. There’s no sense in me coming back here.”

  Hess raced over to where a telephone hung on the wall and ­scribbled the number on a paper he took from his pocket. He handed it to Hans, clasping his hand for a moment. “There’s a party member just outside in the main hall. He’s got a worker’s cap on. It will do.”

  “Go!” Hitler barked, and Hans raced away.

  8:08 p.m.—Bürgerbräukeller, Rosenheimerstrasse,

  Haidhausen District, Munich

  The phone didn’t finish its first ring before Hitler snatched it from its cradle. “Hans! Is that you?”

  “Ja, mein Führer.”

  “Are they there?”

  “Ja, ja! All three. Kahr is still speaking. Sounds like he’s still got a while to go. But Lossow and Seisser are seated on the stand right behind him.”

  “Wunderbar! Did anyone notice you?”

  “No one. I pretended I was trying to find an open seat. There were none, so I left again.”

  “Sehr gut, mein Kamerade. We are on our way.”

  Chapter Notes

  The men described here as being part of Hitler’s inner circle were all there at the beer hall on the night of November 8, 1923. Their descriptions come from William L. Shirer’s The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich: A History of Nazi Germany (see bibliography) and other Internet sources.

  November 8, 1923, 8:47 p.m.—Bürgerbräukeller, Munich

  Lieutenant Wilhelm Brückner came around the corner onto Rosenheimerstrasse at a swift walk. He barely glanced at the men setting up a machine gun beneath the pillars of the main entrance to the beer hall. Adolf immediately turned and started toward him. Hans, along with Emil Maurice and Hermann Goering, fell in behind Adolf.

  Brückner stopped about five feet away from his leader and snapped to attention. His hand shot forward in salute as he clicked his heels together sharply. “Mein Führer, the men are in position. We have the hall surrounded and the back doors guarded. We are ready when you are.”

  “Gut!” Adolf saluted back and spun around to the others. He turned to Goering. “And what of General Ludendorff? We must have that old warhorse with us tonight, or we shall not win the people to us.”

  Goering looked startled. He shot Hans an anxious look. “I thought Scheubner-Richter was going to get him.”

  Alfred Rosenberg hurriedly broke in. “He did, mein Führer. He left about an hour ago.”

  “Gut!”

  Hans relaxed. Thank heavens someone had remembered. But Hans wondered if the old general would even come. Rumor had it that Ludendorff, who came from a wealthy, aristocratic, and very prestigious line of the military elite, viewed Adolf Hitler with great disdain. This was partially due to Adolf’s rash boldness, but it was mostly because socially, Hitler was a nobody. He was the impoverished son of a civil servant who had risen to only the rank of corporal in the army.

  But Scheubner-Richter had a “name” and considerable wealth, and during the war he had served as the ambassador to the Ottoman Empire in Turkey, a very prestigious post. He mingled with the elite and was closer in social status to Ludendorff than any of the other leaders of the party.

  Seeing that Adolf was staring at him, Hans came back to the moment. “As soon as you get inside the doors,” he said in a rush, “turn left. The entrance to the hall is right there. They’ve left a walkway along the back of the hall. They have also left an aisle open on the far wall. That’s the route to take. That aisle leads directly to the speaker’s platform, where Kahr and the others are sitting.”

  Grunting in acknowledgment, Adolf swung around to the others. Then he drew his Luger from its holster and held it by his leg. “I am drawing my pistol so that they know that we mean business. But you are to keep your weapons holstered unless something goes wrong. Remember, we are not here to overthrow the Bavarian government. We are here to convince them to join with us in the revolution.”

  Adolf turned. “I want Rudolf and Ulrich to come up to the front with me.” He looked at Hess and Graf. “You are to make sure that no one tries to stop us. The rest of you will take up positions along the walls, ready to move in at the slightest sign of trouble.” He turned to Hans. “I want you to stay back near the doors. The moment you see Kahr capitulate, signal for Brückner to bring in the S.A. On the double. I want them stationed all around the hall with their rifles clearly visible.”

  Hans saluted smartly. “Ja, mein Führer.”

  “All right, then. Let’s go!”

  8:52 p.m.

  The crash of the doors and the rush of a dozen men coming into the large hall jerked a lot of heads around. People’s eyes widened as they saw uniformed men storming in, but they did nothing more than gape at the intruders. Only Adolf had his pistol drawn, and he still held it down low against his leg. People were startled but not yet alarmed. At the podium, Gustav von Kahr, former prime minister and newly appointed state commissioner, also seemed puzzled. Hans had stepped back against the wall and watched as the others rushed past him. To his surprise, after a moment, Kahr went right o
n speaking.

  Adolf was momentarily taken aback by that too. Kahr was clearly nervous—his words came out hesitantly—and he kept glancing at Hitler, who continued approaching the front. As Adolf reached the far aisle and started toward the platform, Ulrich Graf moved ahead quickly and got in front of his Führer. Rudolf Hess closed in right behind him, matching him stride for stride. Graf looked like a bulldozer lowering its blade just before hitting a barrier. Rudolf Hess was as cool as ice as his eyes swept across the audience, daring anyone to move.

  But suddenly a man about three rows down did move. He leaped to his feet and stepped out into the aisle, turning to face the oncoming entourage. Hans saw that he was wearing the uniform of a Bavarian Army officer. He then recognized the man and gasped. It was Major Mucksel, one of the heads of the intelligence section at army headquarters. And he was reaching for his pistol. Seeing that, Graf lowered his head and started for him. Adolf was now waving his pistol wildly.

  Hans drew in a sharp breath. If Adolf shot an army major, the whole thing would be over right now.

  But Adolf was no fool. He barked something at Graf, who pulled up short. He waved at Hess to stay where he was too. Adolf and the major were now only about twenty feet apart. The major had stopped. His eyes were fixed on Adolf’s pistol, and that stopped him from drawing his own pistol completely out of its holster. Then Adolf snarled at the man. “Get out of my way,” he said contemptuously.

  For what seemed like a lifetime, the major stared at Adolf. Then, as his eyes flitted away, he removed his hand from his pistol and stepped back. Hitler brushed by him without a second glance.

  That did it for the commissioner of the Bavarian Republic. The brief interchange had happened just a few feet away from the speaker’s platform, and Gustav von Kahr had been unnerved by it. His supposed protection had just melted away. His face drained of all color and he stepped back as Adolf approached with Hess and Graf.