Fire and Steel, Volume 3

by Gerald N. Lund

  The response to that was instantaneous and almost unanimous. It was a deafening roar of approval. Hans smiled. There was nothing so universally and passionately hated as the Treaty of Versailles, which had been signed the previous August. It was a national humiliation. The separate Treaty of St. Germain, signed a month later, was particularly odious to Bavaria. It dissolved the Austro-Hungarian Empire and created the independent nations of Czechoslovakia, Poland, Yugoslavia, and Hungary. It gave away vast territories and made local German populations minority citizens of those new nations. Only a fool in Bavaria would dare to publicly support it.

  “Thesis three: We demand land and territory (including colonies) for the maintenance of our people and the settlement of our surplus populations.” He looked up. “What we are talking about is lebensraum. Living space. If we are to become a great nation, we must have the land that once belonged to our people and that belongs to us by natural right.”

  He had them now. The applause and shouting was louder, more enthusiastic.

  “Thesis four: Only those who are our fellow countrymen can become citizens of this nation. Only those who have German blood, regardless of creed, can be our countrymen. Hence no Jew, or anyone of Slavic birth, or Negro, or anyone else of inferior blood can be our countryman. None. Germany is for Germans.”

  Another man leaped up and shouted something about Jews being Germans too. Hitler ignored him.

  “Thesis five: Those in Germany now who are not citizens must live in Germany as foreigners and must be subject to the law of aliens. Thesis six: The right to choose the government and determine the laws of the State shall belong only to citizens. We therefore demand that no public office shall be held by anyone who is not a citizen.”

  That struck another responsive chord. It was not only Jews who held governmental positions of influence, but some of the most influential leaders in the country came from Russian, Polish, Spanish, or even French and British ancestry. Even some of those men Hans recognized as dissidents were nodding at that one. He sat back, watching in awe as Adolf worked his magic.

  Hans had recommended that the next several theses be combined into one general statement. They were obviously designed to appeal to the masses and were as much propaganda statements as political declarations. Adolf had agreed with him but said that at this point, they were trying to attract the masses to the party, and so they needed to be left in. So it was no surprise to Hans then that Hitler did not follow his advice. And wisely so. Even the leftists had a hard time criticizing these.

  Adolf rattled them off in quick order. Number seven stated that every citizen had the right to make a living and live decently, and if that was not possible then the government would be required to expel all non-citizens who were sharing in those services. Number eight forbade all future immigration of non-Germanic peoples into the Fatherland and stated that all who had entered Germany since 1914 should be deported immediately. That won him wild applause. The ninth thesis Hans had called a “giveaway” concept because only the most radicalized of the citizenry would dare to dispute it. “All citizens shall have equal rights and duties.” Who could disagree with that? But Adolf said it needed to be stated. Number ten stated that all citizens had an obligation to work but that no one could perform work that did not benefit all. A fine concept, but pretty vague.

  When Adolf paused after number ten and took a drink of water, Hans looked around. A few more people had quietly left as he was speaking, and perhaps that was part of it, but the mood of the crowd had clearly changed. They were attentive and frequently applauded his words. If any of the disgruntled were still here, it was obvious that they were not feeling comfortable about expressing their feelings openly.

  Number eleven was one that Hans had raised questions about earlier, and he and Adolf had ended up in a vigorous discussion about it. It said, “All unearned income, and all income that does not arise from work, is to be abolished.” This was one of Gottfried Feder’s “no interest income” concepts, but the committee had drafted it into a statement that would instantly appeal to the working classes, and so Hans had finally conceded that it needed to be said.

  Adolf pushed on through the next five or six theses, all of which were related to the economy, but from the response of the crowd, Hans was wrong and Adolf was right. They audience liked the theses and responded enthusiastically as Adolf read them one by one. War profits were immoral; therefore, all war profits were to be confiscated by the government. All trusts must be nationalized. All big industries must share their profits with the people. Old-age pensions should be significantly increased. All large department stores should be communalized and their space rented to small tradespeople.

  But many of the theses sounded hauntingly similar to the Marxist philosophy that the government knew what was best for the people, and Hans was frustrated.

  “Thesis eighteen: We demand that—”

  Feigning a loud, hacking cough, Hans put his hand over his mouth and quickly turned and slipped out the doorway, not looking back to see whether Adolf had noticed him leaving. He had a mild headache from the cigarette smoke and decided that would be his excuse should Adolf question him about it.

  Fifteen minutes later he was still outside the hall when he heard Adolf conclude with a stirring call to action. The audience shot to their feet, and the building shook from their applause and roars of approval. Hans nodded, glad for it in spite of his reservations. Adolf had done it. He had his triumph. The committee had thought him a fool to rent a hall that accommodated two thousand. So now who were the fools?

  And with that, Hans went back inside and started to push his way through the crowds coming out of the hall. Adolf would be waiting for him and would want to know what he thought.

  Chapter Notes

  The meeting sponsored by the German Workers’ Party in the Munich Hofbrauhaus on February 24, 1920, was a pivotal point for the struggling party. Hitler later wrote of it in 1924: “When the first speaker had finished I got up to speak. After a few minutes I was met with a hailstorm of interruptions. . . . A handful of my loyal war comrades and some others grappled with the disturbers and restored order in a little while. I was able to continue my speech. After half an hour the applause began to drown the interruptions and the hootings. Then the interruptions gradually ceased and applause took their place. When I finally came to explain the twenty-five points and laid them, point after point, before the masses gathered there and asked them to pass their own judgment on each one, one point after another was accepted with increasing enthusiasm. When the last point was reached I had before me a hall full of people united in a new conviction, a new faith, a new will.”

  He then concluded: “As the masses streamed toward the exits, crammed shoulder to shoulder, shoving and pushing, I knew that the movement was now set afoot among the German people which would never pass into oblivion. A fire was enkindled from whose glowing heat the sword would be fashioned which would restore freedom . . . and bring back life to the German nation. . . . The hall was emptied. The movement was on the march” (Mein Kampf, 160).

  Though he mentions the twenty-five points, Hitler did not list them in his autobiography. A complete list can be found at http://www.historyplace.com/worldwar2/riseofhitler/25points.htm.

  Of this important list of declarations, Shirer says: “They are certainly a hodgepodge, a catchall for the workers, the lower middle class and the peasants, and most of them were forgotten by the time the party came to power. A good many writers in Germany have ridiculed them, and the Nazi leader was later to be embarrassed when reminded of them. Yet, . . . the most important of them were carried out by the Third Reich, with consequences disastrous to millions of people, inside and outside of Germany” (Rise and Fall, 41). And no one seemed to have seen that coming.

  February 24, 1920, 9:40 p.m.—Eckhardt residence

  Emilee looked up in surprise when the phone rang and then jumped up and hurri
ed to it as it rang again. Alisa, who was otherwise pretty much oblivious to noise while she slept, was sensitive to the loud ring of the bell. Emilee had nursed her and put her to bed just twenty minutes earlier, and she did not want her waking up now.

  “Hallo.”

  “Emilee?”

  “Inga? Yes, it’s me.”

  “Guten Abend. How are you?”

  “We’re fine, danke.”

  “And how is the baby?”

  “Darling. The delight of our lives. She’s cooing now and smiling at us.”

  “I can’t wait to see her again.”

  “And how are you and the rest of the family?”

  There was a moment’s hesitation, and then Inga said, “Things are good. Is Hans there?”

  Something in Inga’s voice made Emilee straighten. “Nein. Tonight was the Workers’ Party’s big meeting. I don’t expect him back until eleven or twelve. Uh . . . is everything all right?”

  Silence.

  “Mama Eckhardt? What’s wrong? Has something happened to Papa Eckhardt?”

  There was a deep sigh. “No, no. Not anything like that. We’re fine. It’s just that. . . .”

  “What is it? I can hear it in your voice. Something’s wrong.”

  “Well, there is some bad news, but good news too. Papa and I are going to be moving up to Munich for a while.”

  The phone nearly fell out of Emilee’s hand as she gasped. “What? But why?”

  “It’s. . . . Well, Papa got a letter from his doctor in Munich today.”

  Emilee reached over and pulled a chair to her and sank into it. “Oh, no. Is his cancer back?”

  “No,” Inga said quietly. “The doctor is pretty sure it’s not. He’s thinking it is most likely diverticulitis.”

  Emilee felt her body relax again. Diverticulitis was a condition where little pouches formed in the colon, creating infection, inflammation, and partial blockage of the digestive tract. If not treated, it could end up with serious, even fatal, complications. But the good news was that it could be treated with medication and diet.

  “My Hans is experiencing a lot of pain in his lower abdomen, so the doctor wants to see him at least once a week until it goes away.”

  And Hans Sr. agreed to that? That is no small thing. Emilee wondered if her father-in-law had concluded that it was cancer, no matter what the doctor said. Otherwise, he would have stoutly refused to leave the farm. But she didn’t say any of that.

  “So we decided,” Inga was saying, “that rather than traveling up by train every week, or even twice a week, it would be easier if we came up and stayed with Paula and Wolfie for a time.”

  “For how long?”

  “The doctor wouldn’t say. A month at least. Maybe more. He wants to keep him as long as it takes to get this fixed.”

  “A month or more? How wonderful for us. But Inga, you are welcome to stay with us. We would love to have you.”

  “I know, but Paula has that small guest bedroom, and she lives not too far from the office and the hospital where the doctor practices. It’s all set.”

  “So when are you coming?”

  “We’re taking the eight-fifty train tomorrow. We should be in Munich by ten-thirty at the latest. Papa has an appointment with the doctor tomorrow afternoon.”

  Oh, my, Emilee thought. They just heard today, and they’re coming up tomorrow? Another sign that the doctor might be worried about more than diverticulitis. “Well, we are sorry to hear that Papa Eckhardt is having trouble, but it will be wonderful to have you here.” Then she had another idea. “Why don’t you and Papa and Paula’s family have supper with us tomorrow night?”

  “Oh, no, but thank you. Papa has the last appointment of the day and we’re not sure how long the doctor will keep him. Paula can have something waiting for us when we get home.”

  “Then Sunday for sure. After you and Paula go to church.”

  “I. . . .”

  “No, Inga. Sunday is with us. Otherwise your son will be very cross with me. And then you and Opa Eckhardt can see Lisa again.”

  “All right,” Inga said after a moment. “I’ll call Paula and—”

  “No. You just worry about getting packed and up here. I’ll call Paula tomorrow and work things out.”

  “Thank you, Emilee. It will be good to see you and Hans on a regular basis. The only problem is that I have a bunch of grandchildren who are very upset that they are not coming too. They ask about you and Hans all the time.”

  “We miss them. Perhaps everyone could come up Sunday. That would be wonderful.”

  “We’ll see.” She paused for a moment. “How are things with you and Hans? Is the business still doing well?”

  “Yes. Even though the economy is recovering so slowly, most of Hans’s clients are commercial people—shopkeepers, butchers, greengrocers. And they have to keep their trucks running. So much so, in fact, that my brother Ernst has cut back to working at the restaurant only in the evenings and helps Hans now. And even then they have a waiting list of trucks that need servicing or repairs.”

  “And does Ernst like being a mechanic?”

  “Ja. To my surprise, he likes it very much. He claims that he is a Dummkopf when it comes to machinery, but Hans tells me he is learning quickly, and this frees Hans up to work on the more serious problems. And another fun thing—Heinz-Albert is often down in the shop with them and helps out with odds and ends. Mama is very happy about that because he’s not just staying in his room all the time now. He and Hans have become real buddies.”

  “That’s wonderful. One of the good things about coming up is that I’ll get to see more of all of you. I look forward to that very much.”

  “As do we.”

  “So tell me about the baby. I am very anxious to see her. Is Hans still enchanted with her?”

  “Absolutely. Enchanted is a good word. I almost have to fight him to get him to let me feed her in the evenings. In fact, let me give you an example of that. Today before he left for his meeting, he was trying to ‘teach’ Lisa how to take a rattle from him.”

  “At four months?”

  “That was what I said too,” Emilee replied with a chuckle. Then she described what had happened and how Hans had kept telling her to watch Alisa’s eyes. “He was convinced that you could see that she was thinking, that there was reasoning power going on in her mind—Hans called it intelligence.”

  Emilee knew that it sounded foolish, but she felt impelled to add, “And I think that he’s right. You could almost see her mind working as she was trying so hard to make her hands do what she wanted them to do. I’m a nurse, Inga, but I never thought of an infant before as having intelligence. A functioning mind, yes, but one that is mostly instinctive. Not one that actually thinks. I thought that came much later in their development.”

  Inga was silent for a moment, and then what she said took Emilee aback. “In our church, we have an explanation for that.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. We believe that before we were born into this world, we lived with God. That we were His spirit children.”

  “Really?” Emilee said.

  “Yes. We believe that in that state we existed as unique individuals with personality and character and intelligence and free will.”

  Emilee was silent for a moment as she considered her mother-in-law’s words. “I. . . . I’ve always believed that we existed before birth, that God didn’t make out us out of nothing, but I’ve always thought that. . . . Well, I don’t know. That we were just . . . there, I guess. I never pictured us as individuals.”

  Inga went on. “We believe that we are literally God’s spirit children and that we lived with Him in heaven before coming here. That’s why when Jesus taught His disciples how to pray, He said that we address ‘Our Father who art in heaven.’”

  “Yes, but, I. .
. . I guess I thought that was in a symbolic way, not a literal one.”

  “The Apostle Paul seemed to think it was literal. He referred to God as the Father of our spirits.”

  “He actually used that term?” Emilee asked. “Father of our spirits?”

  “Yes. And we believe that what we call birth happens when our spirits are placed into our mortal bodies.”

  “Hmm.” That was an intriguing thought.

  “And what we call death is just a temporary separation of our bodies and our spirits until the time of the Resurrection. Our bodies die, but the spirit keeps right on living until we are resurrected when Jesus comes and we get our bodies again, just like He did.”

  “My goodness. I’ve never heard it explained quite that way.”

  “So,” Inga concluded, “I agree with Hans. I think what you were watching this morning was Lisa’s spirit trying to learn how to make her body work. And yes, there is intelligence there.”

  Inga decided she had said enough. “Well, I’d better go. I can hear your father-in-law rummaging through our drawers, looking for socks. He’s quite upset about having to leave the farm.”

  “We’ll spend lots of time with him,” Emilee said eagerly. “Me and Lisa. That will cheer him up.”

  “He will love that.”

  “Oh, Inga, I love that you’ll be here and we’ll be able to spend more time together. And Mama will be delighted too. She thinks very highly of you.”

  “Ja, ja. I am excited about that too. And that I’ll get to go to church every week with Paula. I don’t think I’ve been to the branch two weeks in a row since I joined. It’s just too far from Graswang.”

  “And I would enjoy going with you from time to time as well, if that’s all right,” Emilee said shyly.

  “Of course it’s all right,” Inga replied. “And. . . .” She stopped.

  “And what?”

  “And Paula and I would be happy to have your mother come to church again with us if she would like. And Ernst and Heinz-Albert too, if they wish.”