Hitler 1936-1945: Nemesis (Allen Lane History)

by Ian Kershaw

  Hitler’s radio broadcast could offer listeners nothing of what they yearned to hear: when the war would be over, when the devastation from the air would be ended. Instead, what they heard was no more than a rant (along the usual lines, accompanied by the normal savage vocabulary of ‘Jewish bacteria’) about the threat of Bolshevism. In the event of victory, he repeated, Bolshevism would eradicate Germany and overrun the rest of Europe – the aim of international Jewry which could be combated only by the National Socialist state, built up over the previous eleven years.40 Not a word was said in consolation to those who had lost loved ones at the front, or about the human misery caused by the bomb-raids. Even Goebbels acknowledged that, in bypassing practically all the issues that preoccupied ordinary people, the speech had failed to make an impact.41 Indeed, SD reports in the following days – full of references to war-weariness, anxiety over the eastern front and the bombing, and disbelief that the war could still be won – made no mention of reactions to the Führer’s speech. It was a remarkable contrast with earlier years. His propaganda slogans were now falling on deaf ears. And his earlier promises of retaliation for the laying waste of German cities were flatly disbelieved as the mood plummeted following the latest bombing-raid on Berlin. Indirectly, judgement on the speech could be read into reported remarks such as: ‘We don’t want any tranquillizer pills. Tell us instead where Germany really stands’; or the comment of a Berlin worker, that only ‘an idiot can tell me the war will be won’.42

  III

  Scepticism both about the capabilities of German air-defence to protect cities against the menace from the skies, and about the potential for launching retaliatory attacks on Britain was well justified. Göring’s earlier popularity had long since evaporated totally among the mass of the public as his once much-vaunted Luftwaffe had shown itself utterly incapable of preventing the destruction of German towns and cities. Nor did the latest wave of raids, particularly the severe attack on Berlin, do much to improve the Reich Marshal’s standing at Führer Headquarters. It took little to prompt Hitler to withering tirades against Göring’s competence as Luftwaffe chief. In particular, Goebbels, who both as Gauleiter of Berlin and with new responsibilities for coordinating measures for civil defence in the air-war possibly had more first-hand experience than any other Nazi leader of the impact of the Allied bombing of German cities, lost no opportunity whenever he met Hitler to vent his spleen on Göring.43 But however violently he condemned what Goebbels described as ‘Göring’s total fiasco’ in air-defence,44 Hitler would not consider parting company with one of his longest-serving paladins. When Goebbels discussed the failure of the Luftwaffe with him at the beginning of March, Hitler even showed sympathy for the Reich Marshal’s position. ‘The Führer completely understands,’ Goebbels recorded, ‘that Göring is somewhat nervous in his present situation. But he thinks that we therefore have to help him all the more. He can for the moment stand no criticism. You have to tread very carefully to tell him this or that.’45 On a subsequent occasion, when blame was attached to the Reich Marshal for the ‘catastrophic inferiority’ in the air, Goebbels reported that Hitler ‘could do nothing about Göring because the authority of the Reich or the Party would thereby suffer the greatest damage.’46 It would remain Hitler’s position throughout the year.

  A big hope of making a dent in Allied air superiority rested on the production of the jet-fighter, the Me262, which had been commissioned the previous May. Its speed of up to 800 kilometres per hour meant that it was capable of outflying any enemy aircraft. But when the aircraft designer Professor Willi Messerschmitt had told Hitler of its disproportionately heavy fuel consumption, it had led by September 1943 to its production priority being removed. This was restored only a vital quarter of a year later, on 7 January 1944, when Speer and Milch were summoned to Hitler’s headquarters to be told, on the basis of English press reports, that British testing of jet-planes was almost complete. Hitler now demanded production on the Me262 to be stepped up immediately so that as many jets as possible could be put into service without delay. But valuable time had been lost. It was plain that the first machines would take months to produce. Whether Hitler was as clearly informed of this as Speer later claimed is questionable.47 When Captain Hanna Reitsch, who had risen to become one of his star pilots, visited Hitler at the end of February to receive her Iron Cross, First Class, she proposed setting up a Kamikaze-squad along Japanese lines. Hitler refused, saying he expected great things in the near future from the early deployment of his jets. Reitsch pointed out that it would be months before this could happen. Hitler’s Luftwaffe adjutant Nicolaus von Below reinforced the point later that evening. But Hitler was adamant that the Luftwaffe had informed him differently, and that the dates he had laid down would be met. No one had openly contradicted his demands, he stated.48 Speer himself, according to Goebbels, was confident that the new jets would bring a radical change of fortunes in the air-war.49

  Hitler’s instincts, as always, veered towards attack as the best form of defence. He looked, as did – impatiently and more and more disbelievingly – large numbers of ordinary Germans, to the chance to launch devastating weapons of destruction against Great Britain, giving the British a taste of their own medicine and forcing the Allies to rethink their strategy in the air-war. Here, too, his illusions about the speed with which the ‘wonder-weapons’ could be made ready for deployment, and their likely impact on British war strategy, were shored up by the optimistic prognoses of his advisers.

  Speer had persuaded Hitler as long ago as October 1942, after witnessing trials at Peenemünde earlier in the year, of the destructive potential of a long-range rocket, the A4 (later better known as the V2) able to enter the stratosphere en route to delivering its bombs – and unstoppable devastation – on England. Hitler had immediately ordered their mass-production on a huge scale. When Wernher von Braun, the genius behind the construction, had explained some months later what the rocket was capable of, and shown him a colour-film of it in trials, Hitler’s enthusiasm was unbounded. It was, he told Speer, ‘the decisive weapon of the war’, which would lift the burden on Germany when unleashed on the British. Production was to be advanced with all speed – if need be at the expense of tank production. By autumn 1943 it had already become plain that any expectation of early deployment was wildly optimistic.50 But in February 1944, Speer was still indicating to Goebbels that the rocket programme could be ready by the end of April.51 In the event, it would be September before the rockets were launched.52

  The alternative project of the Luftwaffe, the ‘Kirschkern’ Programme, which produced what came to be known as the V1 flying-bombs, was more advanced. This, too, went back to 1942. And, like the A4 project, hopes of it were high and expectations of its production-rate optimistic. Production began in January 1944. Tests were highly encouraging.53 Speer told Goebbels in early February it would be ready at the beginning of April.54 Milch pictured for Hitler, a month later, total devastation in London in a wave of 1,500 flying-bombs over ten days, beginning on Hitler’s birthday, 20 April, with the remainder to be dispatched the following month. Within three weeks of exposure to such bombing, he imagined, Britain would be on its knees.55 Given the information he was being fed, Hitler’s illusions become rather more explicable. Competition, in this case between the army’s A4 project and the ‘Kirschkern’ Programme of the Luftwaffe, played its part. And ‘working towards the Führer’, striving – as the key to retaining power and position – to accomplish what it was known he would favour, to provide the miracle he wanted, and to accommodate his wishes, however unrealistic, still applied. Reluctance to convey bad or depressing news to him was the opposite side of the same coin. Together, the consequence was inbuilt, systemic, over-optimism – shoring up unrealizable hopes, inevitably leading to sour disillusionment.

  IV

  During February, Hitler, perusing the international press summarized for him as usual in the overview provided by his Press Chief Otto Dietrich, had seen a press no
tice from Stockholm stating that a general staff officer of the army had been designated to shoot him. SS-Standartenführer Johann Rattenhuber, responsible for Hitler’s personal safety, was instructed to tighten security at the Wolf’s Lair. All visitors were to be carefully screened; not least, briefcases were to be thoroughly searched. Hitler had reservations, however, about drawing security precautions too tightly.56 In any case, within days the matter lost its urgency since he decided to leave the Wolf’s Lair and move to the Berghof, near Berchtesgaden. The recent air-raids on Berlin and increasing allied air-supremacy meant that the prospect of a raid on Führer Headquarters could no longer be ruled out. It was essential, therefore, to strengthen the walls and roofs of the buildings. While workers from the Todt Organization were carrying out the extensive work, headquarters would be transferred to Berchtesgaden.57 On the evening of 22 February, having announced that he would be speaking to the ‘Old Guard’ in Munich on the 24th at the annual celebration of the announcement of the Party Programme in 1920, he left the Wolf’s Lair in his special train and headed south.58 He would not return from the Berghof until mid-July.

  He had been unwell in the middle of the month. His intestinal problems were accompanied by a severe cold. The trembling in his left leg was noticeable.59 He also complained of blurred vision in his right eye, diagnosed a fortnight later by an ophthalmic specialist as caused by minute blood-vessel haemorrhaging.60 His health problems were by now chronic, and mounting.61 But he was a good deal better by the time he arrived on 24 February in one of his old haunts, Munich’s Hofbräuhaus, to deliver his big speech to a large gathering of fervent loyalists, the Party’s ‘Old Guard’ as they called themselves.62 In this company, Hitler was in his element. His good speaking-form returned. The old certitudes sufficed. He believed, the assembled fanatics heard, more firmly than ever in the victory that toughness in holding out would bring; retaliation was on its way in massive attacks on London; the allied invasion, when it came, would be swiftly repelled. His peroration reached culmination-point when he told his wildly enthusiastic audience, which interrupted constantly with rapturous applause, that the road from the promulgation of the Party Programme to the takeover of power had been far harder and more hopeless than that which the German people had to go down to attain victory.

  He would go his way without compromise. He linked this to the ‘Jewish Question’: just as the Jews had been ‘smashed down’ in Germany, so they would be in the entire world. The Jews of England and America – held as always to blame for the war – could expect what had already happened to the Jews of Germany. It was a crude attack on the prime Nazi ideological target as compensation for the lack of any tangible military success. But it was exactly what this audience wanted to hear. They loved it.63 Many of them were less enamoured with the evening after the speech, spent in a cold and damp air-raid shelter, fearing a heavy raid on Munich which did not materialize.64 By then, Hitler had left Munich and headed for the Berghof – its alpine splendour now also affected by the danger from the air, covered by camouflage netting, its great hall dimly lit, connected with newly constructed passages to air-raid bunkers.65

  At the beginning of March, Hitler summoned Goebbels to the Berghof. The immediate reason was the prospect of the imminent defection of Finland.66 In fact, for the time being this proved a false alarm. Finland would eventually secede only six months later.67 But the meeting with Goebbels on 3 March was, as usual, not confined to a specific issue, and prompted another tour d’horizon by Hitler, allowing a glimpse into his thinking at this juncture.

  He told Goebbels that, in the light of the Finnish crisis, he was now determined to put an end to the continued ‘treachery’ in Hungary. The government would be deposed and arrested, the head of state Admiral Horthy placed under German ‘protection’, the troops disarmed, and a new regime installed. Then the Hungarian aristocracy and, especially, the Budapest Jews (who, naturally, were taken to be behind the problem) could be tackled. Weapons, manpower, oil, and foodstuffs to be confiscated from Hungary would all stand Germany in good stead. The whole issue would be dealt with as soon as possible.68

  On the military situation, Hitler exuded confidence. He thought a shortened front in the east could be held. He wanted to turn to the offensive again in the summer. For this he would need forty divisions that would have to be drawn from the west following the successful repulsion of an invasion. Before that, the southern flank would have to be cleared up. He was concerned at the difficulties in breaking down the bridgehead at Anzio, on the west coast of Italy, where the Allies had landed some 70,000 American and British troops in January but had failed to exploit the element of surprise and found themselves pinned down.69 He blamed, as usual, his military leaders, in particular his commander in the area, Kesselring, and regretted giving him such unrestricted powers of command. It was, thought Hitler, another indication that ‘he had to do everything himself’.70

  On the invasion to be expected in all probability during the subsequent months, Hitler was ‘absolutely certain’ of Germany’s chances. He outlined the strength of forces to repel it, emphasizing especially the quality of the SS-divisions that had been sent there. He also pointed to the superiority of Germany’s weaponry, especially tanks, where the new ‘Panther’ and ‘Tiger’ tanks, if not available in adequate numbers as yet, were a great improvement on the older models. (Despite ever intensifying bombing raids, the dispersal of industrial plant under Speer had managed so far to sustain production.) Even in the air, Hitler reckoned Germany would be able to hold its own. It was rare for Goebbels to offer any hint of criticism of Hitler in his diary entries. But on this occasion the optimism seemed unfounded, even to the Propaganda Minister, who noted: ‘I wish these prognoses of the Führer were right. We’ve been so often disappointed recently that you feel some scepticism rising up within you.’71

  Hitler also expected a great deal from the ‘retaliation’, which he envisaged being launched in massive style in the second half of April, and from the new fire-power and radar being built into German fighters. He thought the back of the enemy’s air-raids would be broken by the following winter, after which Germany could then ‘again be active in the attack on England’.72 Hitler needed little invitation to pour out his bile on his generals. It was easier for Stalin, he commented. He had had shot the sort of generals who were causing problems in Germany. But as regards the ‘Jewish question’, Germany was benefiting from its radical policy: ‘the Jews can do us no more harm.’73

  Within just over two weeks of Hitler’s talk with Goebbels, Hungary had been invaded – the last German invasion of the war. The genesis of the decision to occupy Hungary reached back, in fact, as far as the defeat at Stalingrad. As we saw, Hitler had been scathing in his criticism of the Hungarian (and Romanian) divisions there. The Hungarians (along with the Romanians) had, for their part, begun tacitly to put out feelers to the Allies. Learning of these, Hitler had left Horthy and Antonescu in no doubt about the consequences of any treachery. He had been satisfied with Antonescu’s declarations of loyalty, but continued to harbour serious doubts about the Hungarians. Following Italy’s defection in September, he had in any case had operational plans – Margarethe I and Margarethe II – drawn up for the occupation of Hungary and Romania should the need arise to nip in the bud any looming dangers. A letter from Horthy on 12 February 1944 demanding the return of nine Hungarian divisions from the eastern front, needed, so he claimed, to defend the Carpathian border against a Soviet breakthrough, had set alarm-bells ringing. The urgency was all the greater because the Red Army was indeed advancing towards the Carpathians, which Hitler did not want to see defended only by the ‘unreliable’ Hungarians. More than that: German intelligence had learned that the Hungarians had attempted to make diplomatic overtures both to the western Allies and to the Soviet Union.74

  From Hitler’s point of view, in full concurrence with the opinion of his military leaders, it was high time to act. The order for Margarethe I was issued on 11 March. German
troops only – drawn in part from the western front – were to be used; the original plan had foreseen the deployment, in addition, of Slovakian, Romanian, and Croat units.75 The use of troops from their disliked neighbours to install a puppet government would have done little to encourage future Hungarian loyalty to Germany. In any case, at his discussions with Hitler in Klessheim on 26-8 February (at which he had once again, without the slightest prospect of success, suggested putting out peace-feelers to the west),76 Antonescu had refused to allow Romanian participation in the occupation of Hungary unless accompanied by the immediate return of the substantial tracts of territory which Romania had been forced to concede to Hungary in 1940. In wanting to avoid any alienation of Hungarian support after the occupation, Hitler had been unable to agree to this.77 He did, however, eventually concede, again going against the original intention, to the suggestion of Field-Marshal von Weichs that the Hungarian military should not be disarmed as long as Horthy was prepared to go along with the invasion and prevent any resistance.78 And, in a further attempt to avoid unnecessarily provoking resistance by the Hungarians, Horthy was to be given the opportunity to ‘invite’ the Germans into his country, along the tried and tested methods used in Austria and Czechoslovakia in 1938 and 1939.79

  Thinking he was coming to discuss the issues raised in his unanswered letter to Hitler of 12 February, in particular, troop withdrawals from the eastern front, the seventy-five-year-old Hungarian head of state arrived at Klessheim, together with his foreign minister, war minister, and chief of general staff, on the morning of 18 March. He had walked into a trap.