Fire and Steel, Volume 3 Page 4

  Chapter Notes

  The description of what happened when Feder finished his lecture is described by Hitler himself in Mein Kampf. The young professor in the group did criticize Feder’s theories and turned to the idea of Bavaria and Austria merging. Though Hitler does not give any details of what he actually said in response that day, he did add that “the honorable gentleman who had last spoken slipped out of his place, like a whipped cur, without uttering a sound.” Elsewhere in his autobiography, Hitler went on at great length to discuss the weaknesses of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and how they had failed because they had not held true to their German roots (see 40–42). This provided the basis for what he says in this chapter. German nationalism was a major element of Hitler’s political philosophy.

  November 5, 1919, 10:35 a.m.—Eckhardt residence

  Hans felt a tug on the sleeve of his shirt. He turned. Miki was there, looking up at him, her large brown eyes imploring and hopeful. “Yes, Miki?”

  “Can I hold the baby, Onkel Hans?”

  Hans’s sister Heidi, who was in the circle of women gathered around Emilee’s bedside, looked up. “No, Miki,” she called. “The baby’s sleeping now. Maybe later.”

  Her face crumpled as she turned and looked at her mother. “But, Mutti,” she wailed, close to tears, “that’s what you said before.”

  Heidi’s voice softened. “But she’s still sleeping. We don’t want to wake her up.”

  Emilee turned and smiled at her niece. Her feelings for this adorable little pixie with her long, dark hair and enormous brown eyes were as strong as Hans’s. “If Onkel Hans were to be very careful, Miki, I think you could hold her without waking her up. Would that be all right, Mama?” she asked Heidi.

  “Of course,” Heidi said as Hans got to his feet. She knew when she was up against a conspiracy.

  Talking softly, Hans showed Miki how to sit up straight and hold her arms to cradle the baby, and then he went over to the bassinet and carefully lifted their five-day-old little girl. He moved over and then bent down and laid the tiny bundle in Miki’s arms. She beamed up at him as if she had just been made the queen of Germany. “Do you remember what her name is?” Hans asked as he knelt down beside her.

  “Lisa,” she replied without hesitation.

  “Ja, that is what we will call her, but her full name will be Alisa. Alisa Maria Eckhardt. Alisa was the name of Tante Emilee’s grandmother.”

  Miki’s eyes grew round and large. “Really?” Then her eyebrows wrinkled as a thought came. “But why didn’t you and Tante Emilee name her Inga Maria, for Oma Eckhardt?”

  Hans’s mother had gotten up from her chair and came over to join them. “Because Tante Anna already named her little baby after me, Miki. We don’t want two little Ingas in our family, especially when they will be so close together in age.”

  “Oh.” Miki looked dubious but said nothing more.

  Hans stood beside his mother. “Thank you so much for coming, Mutti. And for bringing Ilse and Heidi and Anna. This is wonderful for Emilee. Especially since she has no sisters and her mother isn’t well enough to travel this far.”

  Inga touched her son’s arm briefly. “We wish we could have been here to help when the baby was born, but—”

  “Paula was here with the midwife, Mama. And there were no problems. This is better. As you can see, she loves the company.”

  “Oma?”

  Inga looked down at Miki. “Yes, little one?”

  “Do you think she’s pretty?”

  “I think she’s beautiful. Like you.”

  “But she doesn’t have any hair.”

  “Neither did you when you were that tiny. That’s how babies are.”

  “And she’s my cousin, right?”

  “That’s right,” Hans said. “Alisa is your cousin.”

  “Are you disappointed it’s a girl?” Anna asked Hans as she came over to join her brother and mother.

  “Not at all. I think she’s going to look like her mother, and to have two Emilees around the house is perfectly fine with me. And besides, she’s just seven months younger than your little Inga. I hope they shall become lifelong friends.”

  Just then the phone in the kitchen rang. Anna turned, but Hans moved ahead of her. “It’s probably that man whose truck is in the garage downstairs. I’ll get it.” He shut the door behind him, moved over to the telephone by the sink, and picked up the handset. “Hello.”

  “Guten Tag. Is Hans Eckhardt there, bitte?”

  “Adolf? Is that you?”

  “Ah, Hans. I didn’t recognize your voice. Yes, it’s me. How are you?”

  “I am wonderful. My wife had the baby on Saturday. A little girl.”

  There was a moment’s silence, then, “But Saturday was November first, ja?”

  “Ja.” What a strange reaction.

  “Das ist gut, no? Emilee said that the baby would be born on November first, and so it was. That is a good omen, isn’t it?”

  Hans laughed. “Ja, ja.” Emilee had said it was due around November first, but if Adolf thought it was a good omen, that was fine with Hans. “How are you?”

  “Well . . .” Adolf hesitated. “I had hoped that I could discuss that very question with you tonight. At the Café Deutschland. But that will probably not work now, ja?”

  “Right,” Hans said, actually disappointed. He had thought a lot about their experience together at the Sternecker Brewery nearly two weeks ago. He had hoped to have a chance to talk more about it, but Adolf had not called, and Hans didn’t have a phone number for him. “I need to be here with Emilee. And I also have some of my family here, so it’s best that I not leave. But I’m free at the moment. Do you have time to talk now?”

  “Ja, ja. So guess what, Hans?”

  “What?”

  “I am the newest member of the German Workers’ Party. Number seven on the roll, to be exact.”

  Hans hooted, thinking this was a joke. “Of course you are. Because you were so impressed with them, right?”

  “I am serious, Hans,” Adolf said quietly, clearly displeased.

  “You’re not!” Hans said, stunned. “You actually joined up?”

  “I did. And that is a story in and of itself. For as you know, I came away quite disgusted with the whole thing. They were filled with good faith and noble intentions but had nothing else. No program, no pamphlets, nothing at all in print, not even membership cards. And they planned to change the world? Ha! It would be quite hilarious if it weren’t so pitifully ridiculous.”

  “So what changed your mind?”

  “Well, it is quite strange, actually. After I stood up and corrected that fool who called himself a professor, did you happen to notice a man who came up and spoke to me afterward? Rather plain looking. Horn-rimmed eyeglasses.” He chuckled. “You may not have, because you were intent on getting out the door as quickly as you could.”

  “I was,” Hans admitted, “but yes, I did notice someone come up to you.”

  “His name was Herr Anton Drexler.”

  “Was he one of the six members?”

  “Ja! He is the president of the Munich Branch of the German Workers’ Party. Herr Harrer is actually the national president of the association.”

  “Well, at least their titles are impressive,” Hans noted dryly.

  “True. But Drexler said he was very moved by my comments on German nationalism and pressed a small booklet into my hand, asking me to read it. As a courtesy to him I took it, but as far as I was concerned, that was it. No more of the GWP for me.”

  “But now you are a member?”

  “Patience, Hans,” Adolf said tartly.

  “Sorry.”

  “The next morning, as is my habit, I awakened early and could not get back to sleep. As I lay there in bed, watching the mice frolicking on the floor around me, I spie
d the booklet on the table. Actually, pamphlet is a better word. It was only a few pages thick. It was written by Drexler himself, and he called it ‘My Political Awakening.’ So, out of sheer boredom, I began to read it.”

  “And?” There was obviously a story here, for Adolf was quite serious now.

  “To my surprise, it immediately caught my interest and held it through to the end. Drexler began by saying how he, as a laboring man, was initially enticed by the philosophies of Marxism and the speeches of the trade-unionists. But the more he looked into them, the more disgusted he became. Eventually he was able to throw off the shackles of Marxism and turn instead to the concepts of German nationalism.”

  “Hmm.” Hans was intrigued. “That’s kind of the same process you went through, right?”

  “Ja, ja. Exactly. Back when I was living in Vienna about ten or twelve years ago. And that was what intrigued me. My mind went back to those experiences and my own political awakenings. But that was it. It intrigued me, but I had other things to do. So I set aside the pamphlet and determined I wanted nothing more to do with the GWP.”

  “But now you are a member,” Hans said again.

  “Patience, Hans. Patience.”

  Just then, the kitchen door opened and Hans’s mother appeared. She had a questioning look on her face. “Emilee wondered if the phone was anything important.”

  Hans covered the mouthpiece. “It’s Adolf. Nothing for her. I’ll be a few more minutes.”

  Evidently, Adolf heard part of that. When Hans came back on, Hitler asked if he had to go.

  “Nein. It was just my mother. Everything is fine. Go on. You have me curious now.”

  “Well, I promptly put the GWP out of my mind and returned to my educational activities with the army. But guess what showed up in my mail later that afternoon?”

  “An invitation to speak?”

  Adolf laughed. “Not exactly. It was a postcard saying that I had been accepted into the party and asking if I would appear at their meeting on Monday next. Which was three days ago.”

  Quite surprised by the turn of their conversation, Hans said, “Ah, so the plot thickens. And how did that meeting go?”

  “I will get to that in a minute. First, let me explain why I decided to go.”

  “All right. I have to admit I am surprised.”

  “My first reaction was, ‘Is this how they get new members?’ I didn’t know whether to laugh or to be angry. I had never planned on joining an existing political party. So I decided to give the matter no further attention. I sat down to write my response, and it wasn’t going to be very polite. But then. . . .” His voice trailed off to nothing.

  Getting more familiar with this trait of Hitler’s—losing track of what he was saying because his mind was racing ahead of his tongue—Hans waited. Probably thirty seconds went by.

  “I found myself no longer angry,” he began again abruptly. “Or ready to laugh them to scorn. I thought, isn’t this little group a symptom of the very despair that permeates the Fatherland right now? People are so confused and perplexed by what is happening that in desperation they form a political party to see if they can’t make some kind of difference. The feeling that had induced these young men to form what is clearly, even to them, a ridiculous enterprise, was nothing but the call of an inner voice. A voice that cries that something drastic has to be done to restore the German nation to its original glory and to correct the carnage being unleashed upon the German people all around us.

  “Who was I to ridicule such an idea? I thought. Was not that the very thing that has driven me since my days in Vienna? And, Hans, is that not the same longing that you have expressed? To do something—anything!—to make a difference?”

  “Yes. That is a good word, Adolf. It is a longing. A hunger, even.”

  “Ja, that too. Then I remembered what you said about the Christian Democrats. That is a group with a lot of influence, but they represent everything that is wrong with the political situation here. And I realized that I was caught on the horns of a dilemma. I could not achieve my political aspirations by joining some large, existing party that is part of the problem. But how could I start a new party? I am poor. I have no resources. I am an unknown. And so, I asked myself, why not join some small, struggling party where I have a voice, where I have a podium from which to proclaim my ideals, where I can influence its goals and even shape its destiny?”

  Hans was nodding. “That makes a lot of sense, Adolf. To be honest, when we talked last time and you shared your dream of starting a new party, I thought, how is that possible?”

  “So,” Adolf went on eagerly, “I did not write the letter refusing their offer of membership. My curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to attend.”

  “And?” Hans asked. “Was the second meeting any better than the first?”

  There was a bark of laughter. “Hardly! This meeting was on Herrenstrasse, at a restaurant called the Old Rose Bath. Hardly an auspicious title for grand enterprises, I wager. When I went into the room where we were meeting, there were only four men sitting at the table. No one else. One of them was Drexler; the other three were party members.”

  “What about Harrer?”

  Adolf snorted in disgust. “The national president of the party, as he calls himself, was almost half an hour late. But finally the meeting began. The minutes of the previous meeting were read. The treasurer reported the party’s account. Then they read some letters that they were going to send out and asked for approval of the wording. Ah, Hans. It was awful! No, horrible. I was aghast. Was I really considering becoming a member of such a bedraggled and disorganized bunch? I had planned to speak to them of my vision for the party, but I saw it was hopeless. I gave up and went back to my barracks, greatly discouraged. I was in a quandary. What was I to do? Could I bear to be part of such a farce? Or should I swallow my pride and accept their membership?”

  Tempted to once again remind Adolf that he had already said he was a member, Hans said nothing.

  “I brooded over those questions for two days and two nights,” Adolf went on. “Fate herself seemed to be pointing the way with her finger. I sensed that this might be the most momentous decision of my life. And. . . .” Another long silence. “And then I became convinced that no retreat was possible. This was my opportunity, and I must seize it. So this morning, I went to Herr Harrer and declared that I was ready to accept the membership extended to me. He was delighted, of course, and thus I became the seventh member of the German Workers’ Party.”

  When it was obvious that Adolf was done, Hans cleared his throat. “Well, it’s not like you’ve locked yourself into something that binds you forever. Give it a try. See what comes of it. I don’t see any—”

  “Hans!” Hitler cut him off sharply.

  “What?”

  “You don’t understand. I am not the kind who gives himself to something one day then walks away from it the next. I am determined to champion this cause ardently. That is my decision. And that’s only the first part of it.”

  “What is the second?”

  “I want you to become member number eight.”

  “What?”

  “This is your vision, too. And we desperately need men of vision. Come with me, Hans. Let’s begin this journey together.”

  November 20, 1919, 9:55 p.m.—Eckhardt residence

  Hans had no sooner turned off the lights and crawled into bed beside Emilee when the baby began to fuss. They looked at each other and waited for her to calm, but the fussing did not stop. After a moment, she began to cry.

  “She probably needs to be burped some more,” Emilee suggested.

  “After that monster burp?” Hans retorted. “I was afraid she might have woken the neighbors.”

  “Yes, dear,” Emilee chuckled. “That was a very good burp you got out of her, but evidently she has another bubble in her tummy.” She
started to get up. “I’ll get her.”

  Hans was sitting up again in an instant. “No. I’ll do it. It just surprises me, that’s all.”

  Settling back down under the covers, Emilee turned to watch Hans. He turned on the light again and went over to the crib. He began making low, soothing noises even before he reached down to take the baby in his arms. “Come, little Alisa,” he crooned. “Come to Papa. Papa will make it better.”

  Emilee smiled. From the very beginning, Hans had been delighted that she was with child, which not only pleased her greatly but was a relief to her as well. She had feared that with all that was going on in their lives—the Bavarian revolution, mustering out of the army, no employment, starting up the mechanic’s shop—he might wish they had waited a while longer. Instead, he was genuinely thrilled.

  But as the months grew closer, he also became more and more anxious about actually having a newborn in the house and how they would cope with it. Hans had never had any little brothers or sisters. He had left for the Von Kruger Academy in Munich when he was about fourteen and went straight into the war from there, so he had not been around much when the first of his nieces and nephews came.

  After the first day of nervously taking the baby into his arms, it had all gone away. He was totally enchanted. Emilee couldn’t think of another word to describe it. He kept saying over and over again what a miracle she was. “Look at her fingernails,” he would say. “Each one is smaller than a tear drop, but they’re perfectly formed.” Or when Alisa had grasped his little finger in her fist the first time, he had looked up at Emilee in wonder. “How can something so tiny be so strong?” he cried.

  Now as he carefully put Alisa against his shoulder and began patting her back, he hummed Brahms’s Lullaby softly to her, gently swaying back and forth to the music. After a moment, there was one soft burp, followed immediately by another. “Sehr gut, mein Liebchen,” he crowed happily, nodding at Emilee. “You were right, Schatzi.”

  “That should do it,” Emilee said.