Out of the Smoke Page 6

  Hans stopped, realizing that he had been ranting. “I. . . .” But he had held his anger in check for so long that he could do it no longer. “So this morning, our dear, befuddled Chancellor von Papen finally took some action. He has canceled all political parades until after the election.”

  Emilee jerked up. “No! But that’s one of your most effective ways of reaching the people!”

  “Absolutely, along with rallies. And my committee has already set up major parades in Berlin, Dusseldorf, Heidelberg, here in Munich, of course, Nuremberg, and Stuttgart. And now it’s all for nothing!”

  “I heard on the morning news that a columnist for the Münchener Post said that—”

  Hans whirled toward Emilee. “The Munich Post? That rag! What are you doing listening to that kind of prattle, Emilee? They’re our most bitter enemy.”

  For a long moment she just looked at him. Then, with her anger clearly showing, she said, “I wasn’t listening to the Munich Post. I was listening to the news from the state radio in Berlin. Do you want to hear what they said or not?”

  “No I don’t!” It was half a snarl.

  “Oh, that’s nice,” she said calmly. “You are the director of elections. Hitler has charged you to help him win this one big. It is just twelve days away, and you don’t want to hear anything that upsets your little world?” She got to her feet. “Then I suggest you either resign or grow up. But do one or the other and do it quickly.”

  Stunned, Hans just gaped at her as she yanked the screen door open and went inside. As it shut again, she peered at him through the screen. “Would you like me to get you a beer so you have something to cry into? I’m so sorry that you’re having such a bad day.”

  She backed away and slammed the inner door behind her.

  With a groan, Hans got slowly to his feet and then reached out and grabbed the railing to steady himself as the pain spread quickly down his leg. Damnable hip!

  “It’s bothering you again?”

  He jumped a little, not realizing that Emilee was just behind the curtains that covered the window closest to the porch. She had been watching him steadily.

  “A little,” Hans admitted.

  “I can see that,” she said dryly. “You need to go back to the doctor.”

  “I’m all right. Too many hours on the road or sitting in railroad cars. I’ll be all right.”

  “Fine.” She disappeared.

  “Emilee, I’m sorry.” But there was no answer. With a sigh, he went inside.

  She had stopped midway across the living room but didn’t turn, so he went to her and took her by the shoulders, turning her around to face him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bark at you.”

  “Yes, you did. But that’s all right. I’m getting used to it.”

  “I—”

  “Which I wouldn’t resent so much if you also barked at the people you work with, who are the real source of your problems. But oh, no. Pick the easiest target.”

  “Okay, okay. So I’m a Dummkopf. I know that. I’ve been on the road for six or seven days a week now for over a month, and when I finally do come home, I tear into you like you’re the problem. And you’re not. I’m tired. My hip hurts. And I’m disgusted with the ­people I work with. So talk to me. What did the radio say?”

  Emilee searched his face. Then she took his hand and pulled him down onto the sofa. “This Post columnist, who, according to the news broadcaster, is considered to be one of the most astute political observers in Germany, said something like this: ‘Herr Adolf Hitler vehemently denies that he is behind the recent political unrest and violence. And we believe that may be true to a point. But the Nazi storm troopers, which now number close to 400,000 members, are moving ahead with or without his approval. If he is aware of it, why doesn’t he stop them? If he’s not aware, why isn’t he? As head of the party, he is asking us to make him leader of the Fatherland. But if he can’t even control the elements of his own party, why should we trust him with the reins of government?’”

  Hans was staring at the floor, his jaw working, but he only nodded.

  “The news broadcaster did say one thing that was encouraging,” Emilee ventured.

  “What?”

  “He said that many people are actually cheering the S.A. They hate the Communists and Bolsheviks so much that they are happy that somebody finally has the guts to take them on.”

  Hans turned to her. “That’s true, but they are mostly younger citizens—single adults and the newly married. Our core constituency is the middle classes, adults in their forties and older. And they don’t like the violence. We’ll lose two of their votes for every one we get from the younger voters. And Roehm is unmovable on this. That’s why I walked out. Goebbels and I tried to talk with him about it. He was like a horse flicking away flies. We also tried to get a call through to Adolf. But he was not available.

  “Of course,” he added bitterly. “I guess that’s asking too much. And they say he won’t be available until late tonight, which leaves Roehm in charge until we can get to Adolf. So I left.”

  “Don’t fight him, Hans! He frightens me.”

  “He frightens all of us a little bit,” he admitted. “He’s not intimidated by Adolf anymore, either. I guess that comes from having 400,000 thugs and brawlers at your back.”

  Emilee sat quietly for a moment and then stood up and started away.

  “Where are you going?” Hans asked in surprise.

  “To put some food together. You go pack a suitcase.”

  “What? Me? Where am I going?”

  “How far is it to Hamburg?”

  “Hamburg! Are you mad? That’s 500 miles from here.”

  “Then you’d better get started. I’ll pack you two jugs of coffee. You’ll need it to stay awake if you’re driving all night. ”

  “No, Emilee, this is crazy. I—”

  She swung around angrily, but she spoke calmly. “I read this morning that Adolf was in Hamburg until tomorrow afternoon, so I checked the train schedule, wondering if you might have to go up there. The next train doesn’t leave until 9:30 tonight. You can’t wait that long.” Hans went to say something, but she cut him off. “And if it were me, I’d call Joseph Goebbels and Rudolf Hess and tell them to be there too, or in two weeks you’re going to have a catastrophic electoral disaster on your hands.”

  “Have you lost your mind, woman?” Hans threw up his hands. “I’m sorry I said anything.” He whirled and started for the front door again.

  “Fine,” Emilee snapped. “While you’re out there, I suggest you put a for sale sign up in the front yard, because come the end of July, we are going to lose it all. This house. Your Mercedes-Benz. The kids’ enrollment at the Hogenhausen Academy.”

  Not waiting for an answer, Emilee stormed out of the room.

  Hans swore softly. He hated it when she was right.

  August 1, 1932, 9:55 a.m.—Der Braun House, 45 Briennerstrasse, Königsplatz, Munich

  Hans stood back in a corner as the wild celebration went on all around him. Occasionally someone would come over and shove a stein of beer at him or offer him a cigar as they congratulated him on their magnificent success. He was elated by it all, probably even more than most of them, but he wasn’t ready to jump up on a table and shout it to the world. It was a huge victory, but only that. The battle for control of the Reichstag was not won yet, not by a long shot, and his mind was already racing forward to the next round.

  He straightened and set his stein down, still half full, as he saw Joseph Goebbels come out of his office at the end of the main hallway, putting on his uniform jacket. Pushing quickly through the crowd, Hans made his way across the main lobby and reached the man in charge of party propaganda just as he was coming down the hall. “Joseph,” he called, moving around a cluster of secretaries.

  “Ah, Hans!” Goebbels’s smile was large
and genuine. “Congratulations, mein Freund. We did it.”

  “Yes,” Hans said, accepting the outstretched hand. “A great day. And a huge relief, I must say.” He looked around and lowered his voice. “Between that idiot von Papen and Ernst Roehm, I half expected to lose half of our seats.”

  Joseph smiled, though it seemed to be without much humor. “Remind me to thank your wife for encouraging us to go to Hamburg. It turned the tide. Not that I ever doubted you and your team. Nor did the Führer.”

  “Danke, Joseph. That means a lot coming from you.”

  Dr. Joseph Goebbels was a small, slender man, about five foot nine or so, with a long, slender face that sometimes almost looked cadaverous. He was sober by nature, and his smiles, when they came, were typically fleeting. He had been born to a staunchly Catholic family in the Rhineland, but some kind of bone disease at age four had crippled his right leg and foot. A corrective operation at age ten had failed and left him with a shortened leg and club foot. But he had a brilliant mind, had earned a doctoral degree in philosophy, had written numerous books and plays, and now had charge of the party’s Propaganda Department. Since elections were won by propaganda, he was also Hans’s boss.

  “Joseph, I have a favor to ask. If you’re going out, could I use your office phone? I promised Emilee I would call as soon as we got the election results. And in my office, I can’t hear myself think.”

  “Of course, Hans. The door’s unlocked. I’ll be gone for about an hour.” He clapped Hans on the shoulder. “Again, job well done.”

  10:04 a.m.—Eckhardt Home

  “Hans?” Emilee cried as she snatched up the phone.

  “Guten Morgen, Schatzi.”

  “Oh, Hans! Tell me. Are the returns in? I listened to the radio a few minutes ago but they said there were no final results yet.”

  “They were wrong,” he said, keeping his voice even. “We got the final returns by teletype just about half an hour ago. Are you sitting down?”

  “No, Hans!”

  “I think you need to be sitting down.”

  “Hans Otto Eckhardt! You tell me this instant or I’m going to crawl through this phone and strangle you with my bare hands.”

  He chuckled. “All right, here goes. In the final count of the votes, we increased our total count by almost a million votes over last election and—” He laughed as her shriek nearly broke his ear drum.

  “How many seats did we get?”

  “In 1930, as you will remember, I was ecstatic when we took 107 seats in the Reichstag. As of today. . . .” He let it hang for a moment. “We now have 230 seats!”

  Another shriek made him pull the phone away from his ear. “Can you believe it?” he laughed. “We more than doubled our count again. We are now the largest political party in Germany.”

  “Oh, Hans,” Emilee said breathlessly. “That is wonderful. Does that give you a clear majority in Parliament?”

  Hans sighed. “Not quite. With the number of people who voted, there will be 608 seats. So we need 305 to form a new government. But with the largest number, we now have the political clout to create a coalition government with Hitler as our new chancellor. Chancellor, Emilee! I will be working for the chancellor.”

  He heard her begin to cry. “No, I can’t believe it! Oh, Hans! I’m so happy for you.”

  He laughed merrily. “For me? What about you, Schatzi? No more talk about for sale signs in the front yard or selling the Mercedes, okay? Are the children nearby?”

  “Ja, ja. All but Lisa. She doesn’t get home from camp until Saturday.”

  “Then tell them to have their bags packed because on Sunday, we are going on vacation.”

  There was a long pause. “Vacation? I don’t think I recognize that word.”

  Hans hooted, his mood euphoric. “And not just any vacation, Emilee. I have rented a villa for us at Lake Como.”

  There was an audible gasp.

  “For three weeks!”

  Emilee was breathless. “Lake Como! But that’s—”

  “That’s right. It’s in Italy. Where you have talked about going for—how long? Since Lisa was three or four?”

  “Oh, Hans! This is wonderful!”

  He told her what Goebbels had said about her part in all of this. “This is your reward, my darling. For putting up with this grumpy old bear for all these months. So start packing.”

  “When will you be home?”

  “Adolf called a few minutes ago. He’s going to pop in to headquarters and congratulate the staff. As soon as that’s done, I’m coming home. And you and the kids and I are going to find the most expensive restaurant in Munich, and we are going to celebrate.”

  Chapter Notes

  The July 1932 election was a huge victory for Hitler, even though the National Socialists only won about a third of the votes, which meant that two-thirds of the people voted for other parties. However, the Nazis did win the largest portion of seats in the Reichstag and became the most powerful political voice in the country. But since they did not hold a clear majority of the seats, they still needed to work out compromises with other parties in order to form a new government (see Rise and Fall, 166–67).

  The information on Joseph Goebbels comes from The Devil’s Disciples: Hitler’s Inner Circle, 126–45. Note that in German the “oe” is pronounced somewhat like an “r,” so the correct pronunciation of his name is more like “Gerbbels,” with a hard “G” sound.

  Ernst Roehm and the S.A.’s rise in power and the political violence they created prior to the election are documented in Rise and Fall, 159. The Münchener Post (Munich Post) was a newspaper that was highly critical of the Nazi’s rise to power in those early years. The quote attributed to one of their journalists is actually a statement made by Shirer in Rise and Fall, 147. The paper, which was so often critical of the National Socialists, was shut down completely shortly after Hitler came to full power.

  September 2, 1932, 3:15 p.m.—Englischer Garten, Schwabing District, Munich

  The Bogenhausen Preparatory Academy and Primary School occupied a ten-acre plot of land on Thomas Mann Allee, just across the street from the Isar River. Directly across the river to the west was the largest park in Munich, and one of the largest urban parks in all of Europe. Called the English Garden because of the informal landscape style that was popular in England, it was larger than New York City’s Central Park, a fact that the citizens of Munich eagerly pointed out to American tourists at every opportunity.

  Though the Academy was in the heart of a large city, its proximity to the river and the English Garden made it feel more like a country estate. And even more amazing, Alisa Eckhardt was thinking as she and Jolanda and Hans Otto crossed the Max-Joseph Bridge and entered the park, was the fact that along the western border of the park was the district of Schwabing. And just three blocks from the park boundary was the home of Hans and Emilee Eckhardt and their five children.

  Two years ago, when her parents had announced that they were selling their home in Milbertshoven and moving to Schwabing, an upscale neighborhood to the south, Lisa had thrown a week-long tantrum. All it did was frustrate and anger her mother and amuse her father. He had assured her that before the year was out, she would thank him for the move. In actuality, though she did not admit it to him at first, it took less than a month for her to fall totally in love with her new home and her new school.

  By the next school year, the Academy had moved her up a year in math and science and put her in a special piano class reserved for advanced students. They hadn’t even had a music class at her public school. Now, in the first week of their third year, she exulted in being back. She loved school.

  As they descended from the bridge and entered the park with its sweeping expanse of lawns, flower gardens, and forested areas, Lisa threw back her head, flung out her arms, and half-closed her eyes. Italy had been wonderful, and th
eir stop in Salzburg, Austria, on the way home had been enchanting, but she hadn’t loved them like she loved this. Right then and there she decided that tonight she would make it a point to thank her parents for moving to Schwabing. She chuckled, relishing the look that would bring to their faces.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  Jolanda’s voice brought her out of her revelry, but her smile only broadened. “Nothing. Just thinking how much I love this park. And we get to go through it every day.”

  Her sister gave her a strange look. “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing.” Lisa moved closer and linked arms with her. “It just feels so good to be back home again, Jo. It’s been three months, you know, counting Hitler Youth and our holiday.”

  “I know,” Jo said. “I missed you terribly those months you were at camp.”

  “And I missed you.” A frown briefly creased her forehead. “More than I thought I would, to be honest. I missed all of the family, but especially you and Oma.”

  “Was it really, really hard?”

  Lisa turned her head. Jolanda’s expression was openly anxious. For a moment, Lisa considered downplaying it, knowing what was going on in Jo’s mind. But she couldn’t lie to her. Jo always knew when she wasn’t being honest. “It was, in some ways. But in so many other ways it was glorious.”

  A little shudder ran through Jo’s body. “Did you really shoot rifles? Didn’t that scare you?”

  “Oh, no. That was one of the best parts. That and the archery.” Lisa’s lips formed into a tiny pout. “It made me angry that we didn’t get as much training in firearms as the boys did. But we did get to go on as many treks into the mountains as they did. And I loved those. And guess what, Jo?”