Hans said nothing. The horror in him was spreading like cancer.
“Have you ever been in the Reichstag building, Hans?”
“Yes. Several times.”
“Then you know how huge that building is. So answer me this. Fact number three. This hapless fool took in two five-gallon cans of petrol and something to light it with. He pours it out in a basement hallway, then sets it on fire. Yet when the firefighters arrived less than ten minutes later, the whole building was in flames. I was there, Hans! The fire was everywhere. In the basement. On the main floor. On the upper floor. From one end to the other.”
“Go on.”
“Fact number four,” Alemann was even more sober now. “And this is another thing that didn’t make the papers, and probably never will. The next day, when the firemen were going through the rubble, they found several other places in the basement hallways where dozens of cans of flammable materials, including self-igniting chemicals, had been brought in and set afire. Dozens, Hans. In other words, that fire did not spread from a single starting spot, but from half a dozen or more. All of which were ignited at nearly the same moment. The police concluded that one man could not possibly have lugged in all of that stuff in by himself and placed it in several locations throughout the building. Not to mention set them all on fire at the same time. The police estimated that there were likely ten to twelve men involved. However, that information has now been stripped from their report.”
Hans put his hands up and began to rub at his eyes. “Do you realize what you are implying, Alemann?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.
“I do,” he said, his voice heavy with sorrow. “One last thing, and then I’ll shut up. And this was a big surprise to me. I learned it just a couple of days ago. There is an underground heating tunnel large enough for a man to walk through that leads into the Parliament building from another nearby government building.”
“What building?”
Alemann took a deep breath and sighed slowly. “The Reichstag Presidential Palace. The palace where the current president of Parliament, one Hermann Goering, has his residence and his offices.”
It was like being slugged in the stomach. “You’re saying that Goering is—”
“I told you,” Alemann cut in quickly. “I’m not accusing anyone of anything. But the fact is that Goering was in the palace working when the fire broke out. When he saw the commotion, he immediately ran over. He was one of the first ones there. I saw him there, running back and forth, directing the firemen.”
“But why?” Hans cried. “This is insane. What would they have to gain from burning down one of the most famous buildings in our nation? The delegates can find somewhere else to meet. I can’t believe that Adolf would approve that. It’s crazy!”
“Yes it is. Crazy like a fox.” Alemann stared at Hans steadily for several long seconds and then went on, his voice barely audible. “What happens the next morning, while the ruins of the Parliament building are still smoldering? Reichschancellor Adolf Hitler pays a visit to the office of President Hindenburg.”
“Where Hindenburg grants the full dictatorial emergency powers,” Hans whispered.
“Exactly. And what does the Reichschancellor immediately do with those powers? Within minutes after leaving the president’s office, S.A. troops, and the Gestapo, and the Prussian police are all rolling. Before the day is over, they have arrested over four thousand people. Four thousand, Hans! And do you know who they were?”
“Anyone who was politically opposed to the Nazi Party,” he murmured.
“Which means that in the last few days prior to a national election, the only ones who are ‘free’ to campaign and voice their political opinions are those of the Nationalist Socialist Workers Party and their coalition partners.” He slumped back in his chair. “And you have your miracle.” With a long, painful sigh, he reached down and picked up his attaché case and put the sheet of paper back inside.
Hans pulled himself upright to a full sitting position. “If I were you, Alemann, I would destroy that paper here and now. And any other notes on this that you may have. You are right. This could get you killed.”
“That is my plan,” he said in a low voice.
“You cannot write about this, Alemann. You can’t even hint to anyone anything of what you have told me. You cannot talk about this in your lectures. Not ever! You can’t tell anyone any of this until years have passed. Decades!”
His friend managed an ironic smile. “So you agree that I am not being overly melodramatic?”
“Alemann, this could not only get you killed, it could put Richelle and Erika and Leyna in grave danger as well. Believe me. I know of what I speak.”
“And you think I haven’t thought about that?”
Hans pointed at the attaché case. “Then burn that paper! Burn it now, Alemann. There are matches there on the fireplace mantel. “Burn it, and we shall never speak of this again.”
Chapter Notes
The events described in this chapter are all part of what happened in that fateful month between Hitler’s ascendency to the chancellorship and the election held on March 5, 1933 (see Rise and Fall, 190–95; World Without Civilization, 1:228–29). Much of the information substantiating these events was not available until after the war, when the Allied Forces captured literally tons of civil records kept by the Nazi government.
Most of the details of the Reichstag fire, as given here, did not come out until the Nuremberg War Crimes trials in 1946–47. Even then, there was not enough evidence to convict any of the surviving Nazi leadership. It was widely believed that several S.A. men, led by Goering himself, capitalized on the opportunity the hapless Dutchman presented to them. Using him as the sacrificial goat, they used the heating tunnels to carry enough incendiary materials into the building to ensure it would be completely destroyed. Some who knew Goering said that he had once privately bragged that he was the one who actually had “set it on fire” (see Rise and Fall, 193).
It seems like more than an incredibly fortunate coincidence that just a few days before, the Nazis had stumbled upon a half-demented Dutch Communist who was openly promising to set the Reichstag on fire. Yet Shirer notes that the evidence brought out at the Nuremberg Trials supports that fact (Ibid., 192). The idea that those who had arrested him passed that information up the line until it came to the attention of the Nazi hierarchy is only a supposition, but a likely one. Lubbe was eventually tried, found guilty, and beheaded for his part in the fire.
The decree signed by Hindenburg the day after the fire was called “A Decree for the Protection of the People and the State.” It suspended seven sections of the Weimar Constitution, including personal liberty; the right of free expression; freedom of the press; the rights to assembly and association; the rights of privacy for one’s postal, telephonic, and telegraphic communications; and a suspension of the requirement for a legal warrant before one’s home could be searched.
In addition, the decree authorized the Reich government to completely take over the power of all state governments when necessary and also imposed the death penalty for such “crimes” as “serious disturbance of the peace by armed persons” (see Rise and Fall, 194).
March 6, 1933, 4:55 p.m.—Eckhardt Home
Hans came awake with a start as Emilee touched his arm. She stepped back quickly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
He tried to shake off the cobwebs in his head and glanced up at the clock. “What’s going on?”
“We’re just home from church. The children and Grandma Inga are changing their clothes. We’ll have supper on in about fifteen minutes.” She came closer, a look of concern on her face. “You look pale, Schatzi.” She reached out and laid her hand on his forehead. “And you’re all hot and sweaty. Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Hans reached up and took her hand. “I got tired of lying around all day, so I decided
it was time to do what the doctors keep telling me I have to do. Get up and move around.”
“You got up on your crutches? Oh, Hans, you should have waited until I was here to help you.”
“That is probably a good idea, but I managed. I took a couple of fast laps around the living room.”
“And how was the pain?”
“Not as bad as I expected, actually, but I tired quickly.”
“But that’s wonderful, Hans. The doctors say the more you can move without it causing you excruciating pain, the quicker you will heal.”
“Yeah,” he growled. “They say that because they’re all sadists and delight in my suffering.”
Emilee laughed. “That’s the first you’ve joked about it, so that’s a good sign.” She bent down and kissed him. “I’m going to change my clothes. Can I get you anything before I do?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Okay.” But as she reached the hall, she turned back. “I see the newspaper there. I assume you heard how the elections turned out.”
“Yes I did. Alemann and I were talking about them, actually.”
Emilee’s eyebrows went up. “Alemann was here?” When he nodded, “For how long?’
“Maybe an hour and a half.”
“Really? What did he want?”
“He just came over to talk.”
“That’s nice. Your friendship pleases me, Hans. Richelle and I have become such close friends. And our four girls are more like sisters than friends.” She paused. “Anything special that he wanted to talk about?”
Hans had closed his eyes for a moment. Now they popped open. “Uh . . . not really. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering.” She gave him a little wave of her hand and turned back toward the hallway. Just as she was about to disappear, he called after her. “Emilee, there were a couple of interesting things.”
She turned around. “Oh? Tell me about them over supper?”
“Uh . . . it’s not really anything that would interest the children. I’m determined to stay up all day, so by nine tonight, I’m going to be ready to go to bed. What if we talk then?”
“I would like that very much.”
9:12 p.m.
“Are you comfortable, Schatzi?”
Hans shifted his weight back and forth, grimacing as he moved. “Maybe one more pillow alongside my right hip. I think I lay on that side too long today.”
Emilee got one and tucked it in around him. “How’s that?”
“Better, danke.”
Emilee brought a chair over beside Hans so she could see his face as they talked. He waited until she was settled and then reached out and took her hand. It surprised her, and she gave him a warm smile in return. “I can’t believe you were up and around today. That is wonderful, Schatzi.”
Hans grunted something, and then they both fell silent for a time as he tried to decide how to begin. Finally, he took a deep breath. “I told you before that Alemann is working on a new book—a book on the history and politics of the Weimar Republic. And he thinks that because of my long association with Adolf, I bring a perspective to that history that would be valuable. Kind of a behind-the-scenes view of history.”
“That’s wonderful, Hans. I’ve said that all along. I’m glad your voice will be heard.”
“Did Richelle tell you that Alemann’s been in Berlin this last week?”
“Yes, but she didn’t say why, and I didn’t ask.”
“Obviously this is a very tumultuous time, speaking politically, and he wanted to be up there where it’s all going on. He and Richelle spent a year there on sabbatical a few years ago and—”
“Yes, she told me about that too.”
“Well, he made a lot of friends up there. He also established some contacts that are well placed in the government or with the newspapers. So, here is what he found out.” He briefly summarized his conversation with Alemann, leaving out, of course, any mention of the cause of the Reichstag fire. Hans shared some of his concerns about the emergency decree that was issued the next day. When he got to that point, he looked up. “You know what immediately happened after the decree, right?”
“I know that the storm troopers went out and arrested some Communists that day.”
“Emilee, they went out and arrested four thousand people that day.” As she gasped, Hans rushed on. “And it wasn’t just Communists. It was any who opposed our party.”
“Alemann said all that?” Emilee cried. “That’s awful, Hans.”
“I know. And that’s what I want to speak with you about. What Alemann told me has raised some questions in my mind.”
“Wait—did you know about this beforehand? That they were going to arrest that many people?”
Hans snorted in disgust. “Emilee, I haven’t been to the office in over a month, remember? What do you think?”
“I. . . . I’m sorry, Hans. But I’m also glad. I’m glad you weren’t part of that.”
“Yeah. Well, that gets to the real reason Alemann came over to see me. He wanted to ask me one important question. A very sobering question.”
“What?”
He looked away. “It’s one I’m going to ask you now. He asked me if I felt strongly enough about what is happening to leave the party. Completely leave it.”
Emilee bolted upright, her eyes wide. “Oh, Hans!” Her eyes were suddenly shining. “And what did you say?”
“I told him. . . .” He blew out his breath. “I told him that I could not, in good conscience, be part of what was happening now.”
Emilee was up in an instant and knelt beside the bed. She took one of Hans’s hands in both of hers and pressed it against her cheek. “Thank you, Hans! That makes me so happy.”
“Thank you?” he exploded. “Do you know what that means, Emilee?”
“Yes! And I don’t care. Your mother and I have talked about this a lot. We are horrified by the party. You can’t be part of it, Hans. You can’t!”
“Emilee, I. . . .” Then he shook his head. “I am very, very tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
She got to her feet, still holding his hand. She studied him for a long moment and then, in a hoarse voice, said, “Of course, my dearest. Go to sleep now. I’ll be in in a few minutes.”
“Are you going to go out to pray?” Hans asked, but not with any bitterness.
Emilee hesitated but then nodded. “Would you rather that I didn’t?”
Hans sighed and shook his head. “Do what makes you feel good, Schatzi.” As she started for the door, he called after her. “Don’t say anything to the children. Not yet. Or Mother, either.”
“Of course not.” She came back, bent down, and kissed him softly on the lips. “Go to sleep, Hans. And. . . . And thank you. I love you so much.”
March 7, 1933, 4:45 a.m.
Hans looked up as he heard Emilee’s bare feet coming down the hall. When she appeared in the entryway of the living room, he smiled at her and raised one hand in greeting.
“How did you get out of bed?” she asked incredulously.
“Very slowly,” he said solemnly. Then he smiled. “But I could have jumped up and down on the bed and it wouldn’t have awakened you. You were really out. When did you finally come to bed?”
“Late.” She went into the living room and sat down by Hans. “How long have you been up?”
“About an hour.”
“Why? Too much pain?”
He smiled sadly, “Yes.” Then he reached down and picked up a writing pad that was lying facedown on his stomach. “But not the kind of pain you’re thinking.”
When he turned the pad over, she saw that it was mostly filled with his handwriting. She went very still. “What is this, Hans?”
“Emilee, I want to read you something. You are going to have many questions as I do, but I wou
ld ask that you let me read clear through it all first.”
“All right.”
“When I awoke about an hour ago, I couldn’t get back to sleep. I asked myself one question over and over. And it was this: If I try to extricate myself from the party, what will that actually mean for me, for you, and for our family? So I came out here.” He lifted the pad. “And I’ve been trying to answer that question ever since.”
“I’m listening, Hans.”
He sighed, stared at the page for several seconds, softly biting his lower lip, and began.
“I have titled this, ‘Reasons Why I Cannot Possibly Leave the Nazi Party at This Time.’”
There was a soft intake of breath, and he saw tears come to her eyes, but she only nodded and said again, “I’m listening.”
Hans looked at her over the top of the notebook. “Emilee, I’m not saying that I can’t ever leave the party, just not right—”
“Please, Hans, just read me what you have written.”
Nodding, heart aching, he lifted the paper. “Reason one: We are in the midst of a major economic depression. Unemployment in Germany is now approaching fifty percent. How likely is it that I can get any employment at all if I leave the party, let alone a job that has anywhere near the level of compensation I am now receiving? What will losing my job mean to my family?
“Two: My current salary and bonuses pay for our very nice home in an upscale neighborhood. If my salary is significantly reduced—or eliminated—we will have to sell our home and move to a smaller, less expensive home.
“Three: It also means that we can no longer drive two cars, purchase meat for our Sunday dinner each week, pay for piano lessons for three of our children, or many other things we have grown accustomed to since moving here.”
He stopped as Emilee stirred and looked as if she was going to speak. But she shook her head.
“Four: That will also mean that we will have to pull Lisa, Jo, and Hans Otto out of the Bogenhausen Academy and Preparatory School and—”
Out of the Smoke Page 24