Fire and Steel, Volume 3

by Gerald N. Lund

  “And counting the money as it poured into the treasury,” Hans called out.

  Drexler and Harrer and their allies looked as though they had walked into an artillery barrage. Their heads were down, their shoulders slumped, their eyes on the floor.

  “But did that stop the feet-dragging, the negativity, the nay-­saying? It did not. When, in a month or two, we were holding three rallies a week, each time bringing in two or three thousand paying people and raking in fees and donations faster than we could count, did you thank me? Of course not. You said I was too reckless, too radical in my thinking, and you sought to hold me back.”

  Hans was in awe. Talk about taking the hide off their backs with a bullwhip. There wasn’t a sound now from anyone. Then, to Hans’s surprise, Drexler stirred. “You have made your point, Herr Hitler,” he said quietly. “You said you had two answers to my question. Get to it, so we may proceed with the proposed action before us.”

  Adolf gave him a thin smile and said in a bare whisper. “Even now, Anton? Even now you refuse to see it? To acknowledge it? Oh, how blind are they who refuse to see.

  “I could go on and on. We needed a name that would catch the hearts of the people. And now the word Nazi is on the lips of hundreds of thousands. I suggested that we create a party flag. You mocked the idea. Now you talk about the powerful impact our flag has on people. And our people wear armbands that duplicate that flag. And that too was my idea.”

  He reached back and pulled his chair forward and then sat down heavily. His eyes were boring into Drexler’s now. “You asked me why I should not be censured and demoted. All right, here are my two answers. Number one. This committee would be fools to take action against me because this party is what it is today primarily because of me. Not because of you, Herr Drexler. And certainly not because of your crony there beside you.” He was looking at Harrer in disgust. “What kind of national president cannot even catch a trolley on time?”

  Harrer didn’t look up. He was staring at his hands now.

  “Number two. If I resign from this party, this party will collapse. I shall take the majority of our members with me, and we shall start a new party, and you shall be left with a handful of members trying to scrounge up enough money to pay for new membership cards.”

  Suddenly a voice behind them boomed out. “Permission to speak, Herr Chairman.”

  Every head in the room turned to where Hermann Goering was getting to his feet.

  Drexler hesitated, obviously knowing where Goering stood on this issue. But this was a man that you simply did not ignore. People were already shouting out, “Let him speak. Let’s hear Herr Goering.”

  Finally, Drexler nodded. “We shall give the floor to the esteemed Herr Goering.” Goering came forward. He barely glanced at Adolf, but rather turned to face the room. “Though I am tempted to endorse much of what Herr Hitler has said thus far, I shall restrict myself to making one point. Herr Eckhardt spoke of the time when the party’s treasury had only a few marks in it. Today, we have more than a hundred thousand marks in our coffers. A year ago, we went in debt to the tune of sixty thousand marks to buy our own newspaper. Now that newspaper is published weekly and goes into more than ten thousand homes each week. By next year, we plan to put out a daily paper.”

  Adolf’s head raised. “And we have paid off those sixty thousand marks.”

  “We now have our own offices. We own two automobiles. We own a printing press. We pay for the halls we rent in advance and in cash. And do you know why?”

  Ernst Roehm cupped his hand to his mouth and shouted out, “Because Adolf Hitler brings the people in and convinces them to open their pockets.”

  “Ja, ja,” Goering said. “But ticket sales provide only a pittance of our funds. Frau Helene Bechstein, wife of the wealthy piano manufacturer, heard Herr Hitler speak a few months back. She was so moved by his vision for our nation that she has given us a sizable check to aid the cause. A sizable check. And she has gone to her friends and convinced them to give to our cause as well. Herr Chairman, you have seen the books. You know I am not talking about donations of two or three hundred marks each. I am talking about donations of four and five figures.”

  His head came up and he was looking at the full group now. “As most of you know, I am engaged to be married. My bride-to-be is one of Sweden’s great beauties, and I am honored that she has accepted my proposal. Not long ago, she was so moved by what she saw and heard at one of our rallies that without me asking her to do so, she too made a generous contribution to our party. And she plans to make others.”

  Suddenly, Goering was shaking his finger at Drexler and Harrer and Feder. “And I warn you now, brethren, if you undertake to censure Adolf Hitler, or to demote him in any way, those funds will be withdrawn! And I am almost certain that Frau Bechstein and her friends will do the same.”

  And that was it. Without another word, Goering returned to his seat. Hans was stunned, and obviously so was everyone else. However, Adolf seemed not at all surprised. Had he and Goering planned this in advance? Hans didn’t have a chance to consider that, for Anton Drexler cleared his throat and prepared to speak. Instantly, the room went silent.

  Then, before Drexler could say a word, Adolf was up again. His face was like stone. “Oh, yes, Herr Chairman. I almost forgot. There is a third reason why you may wish to stop this action against me. You should know that yesterday I acquired the services of an attorney, and he has drafted a libel suit against you and all the others in this room who signed their names to your so-called pamphlet.”

  Heads snapped up and eyes widened. Someone gasped sharply.

  “You have besmeared by name,” Adolf hissed, his eyes blazing. “You have concocted a pack of lies and engaged in character assassination. And for that, you will pay.”

  And with that, he picked up his leather case and walked away. And this time he did not hesitate at the door but went straight out, slamming it hard behind him.

  Chapter Notes

  Hitler talks about this time in his autobiography but gives very little detail about the actual meeting or who was there. However, much of the wording in this chapter is his, including such withering terms as “petty and chicken-­hearted,” “the jackals of politics,” and the imagery of “grasping the rudder with an iron hand” (Mein Kampf, 195, 200, 215).

  Hitler did threaten to resign, and he did file a libel lawsuit against Drexler and the other men who had signed the pamphlet, so it seems highly likely that he and his supporters would have pointed out the consequences his resignation would have on the party. Whatever he said, it must have been pretty compelling, because by the time the meeting was over, the opposition had collapsed. They tried to depose him because they feared he had too much power. Instead, they destroyed what little power they still held and gave Hitler everything he demanded.

  July 13, 1921, 10:47 p.m.—Eckhardt home

  Hans stopped as he walked into the living room and saw that the light in the hall was still on. Surprised, he tiptoed toward it.

  “It’s all right, Hans,” Emilee called to him softly from the bedroom. “I’m still awake.”

  With a weary sigh, he removed his shoes and padded into their bedroom. Emilee was propped up on both his and her pillows, an open book folded on her lap.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi.”

  “You look exhausted.”

  “I am exhausted,” he said. He moved over to the wardrobe as he began to unbutton his shirt.

  “Is it over?”

  “Yes.”

  “Completely?”

  “Ja.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “Well, the committee voted to disavow their pamphlet, and Drexler will publicly repudiate the charges against Adolf. In return for that, Adolf will drop his lawsuit.”

  “Drexler’s lucky,” she said in disgust. “I mean, to accuse Adolf
of acting like a Jew? Ridiculous.”

  Hans sat down and began removing his socks. “Even Drexler sees that now. But in the heat of emotion, he let his anger get the better of him. They also unanimously agreed that the party could not afford to lose Adolf and therefore agreed to accept his terms. The party statutes and bylaws were revised. The existing executive committee is now completely dissolved, and Adolf is the president of the party.”

  “So the committee no longer has any role in the party?”

  “No leadership role. They will still carry out various functions of the party like secretary, treasurer, director of propaganda, director of logistical arrangements, and so on.”

  “So who is the new director of propaganda?” Emilee was watching him closely.

  A boyish grin broke out on Hans’s face. “Well, let’s just say that he’ll be sleeping beside you tonight.”

  Emilee clapped her hands. “Oh, Hans! That’s wonderful. And a good thing. If he hadn’t done that, I was going to call Adolf and give him a piece of my mind.”

  He chuckled. “Always my champion.”

  “That’s right. Go on.”

  “The statutes were also revised to establish what is now called ‘the leadership principle.’”

  “And what is that?”

  “It’s a pretty simple and straightforward statement, but the implications of it are enormous. The leadership principle states that the president of the party, whose official title will be Führer, is the supreme head of the party and is sole holder of all authority and power.”

  “And that’s all?” she asked after a moment.

  “All?” he laughed. “What more is there?” Then he saw that she was being sarcastic and sobered. “Yes. The wording of the statute even uses the phrase ‘full dictatorial powers.’”

  Hans slipped off his shirt and tossed it on a chair and then stood up and started for the bathroom. “Let me brush my teeth, then I’ll come to bed.” But as he opened the door, he saw that Emilee was staring at her hands, frowning. “What?” he asked, already guessing what it might be.

  “And you’re comfortable with that?” she asked.

  “Yes, Emilee, I am. Those fools on the committee nearly destroyed the party. If we are going to become powerful enough to win seats in the Reichstag and implement real change, there must be a strong leader or the power becomes disbursed and fractured. That’s not saying that the rest of us don’t get a say, just not the final say.”

  “If you don’t get the final say,” she said dryly, “then in reality you don’t get any say that really matters.”

  “It has to be that way or we’ll break up into a thousand pieces, just like we almost did today. Adolf has a saying. At first I wasn’t sure what he meant by it, but now I think I do. He says, ‘The strong is strongest when alone.’”

  “Well, that’s nice,” Emilee snapped. “So you’re stronger without me?”

  He laughed. “I don’t think he’s talking about marriage, dear. He’s talking about political parties and what it takes to be a strong leader.”

  “I’m not so sure of that,” she said quietly.

  He instantly bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Do you remember that night back in our old house? Adolf had come for dinner. It was a couple of years ago now.”

  “Yes,” he said shortly. “What about it?”

  “He was sharing some of his political philosophy and he began talking about the importance of Germany having a strong leader. Someone had given him a statement on what kind of leader it would take to lead Germany back to greatness. He had a copy of it in his pocket and actually took it out and read it to us. Do you remember that?”

  “I do. It was a statement Rudolf Hess wrote as part of his thesis.”

  “Yes, that’s right. But Hans, some of the things that he read that night gave me the chills.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, I can’t quote it of course, but it did say that Germany would require a dictator if we were ever to come back to glory. And I can see that. The so-called democratic government we have right now is taking us nowhere.”

  “Because they are such weak leaders and keep trying to share leadership with the Reichstag and other groups,” he interjected pointedly.

  She went on. “But then he said something like this. ‘When it becomes necessary, such a leader does not shrink from bloodshed. Great questions are always decided by blood and iron. In order to reach his goal, the strong leader must be prepared to trample even on his closest friends and associates if need be. He must proceed with implacable hardness if he is to lead us to glory.’”

  “You know that the idea that blood and iron are what really decides things is actually a quote by Otto von Bismarck. You know that, right?”

  Emilee’s head came up slowly. “You know, Hans, it really irritates me when you patronize me like that.”

  He was taken aback by the sudden coolness in her voice. “What?”

  “‘Poor little uneducated Emilee. I must remind her that it was Otto von Bismarck who made that statement. I know that, of course, because I was valedictorian at the prestigious Von Kruger Academy. All Emilee ever did was go to nursing school.’”

  Hans reared back. “Whoa, whoa!” he cried. “Where did that come from? I don’t feel that way. I just thought it was interesting that Hess quoted Bismarck there. Why so touchy?”

  “Because you treat me like a two-year-old sometimes.”

  “I don’t mean to, Emilee. I was just—”

  “Never mind. We can talk about that some other time. Back to what Adolf said that night. It was that last part that alarmed me. ‘You must be prepared to trample on even your closest friends and associates.’”

  “I know that sounds harsh, but—” Hans’s voice was rising now. “Look at what’s come of our current leaders trying to accommodate all of these various groups and voices—revolution, chaos, starvation, humiliation.”

  Emilee shook her head sadly. “You don’t even see it, do you?”

  “See what?”

  “You are one of Adolf’s closest friends and associates. Has that not even occurred to you?”

  Hans’s mouth opened and shut, then opened again. “I. . . .”

  Emilee quickly raised her hands. “Never mind. Forget it.” She quickly changed the subject. “Paula called. Wolfie came home and told her about your meeting. Were you going to tell me the rest of it, or just let it pass?”

  “The rest of what?” He threw up his hands. “What is with you tonight, Emilee?”

  “All right, here’s another question for you. Adolf is now the president of the party. Is that going to change your friendship with him in any way?”

  He was suddenly wary. “Why should it?”

  “I understand that he’s asked that party members now address him as der Führer. Or mein Führer. Right?”

  “Yes, but that’s just another thing that Adolf’s doing to unify the party, to give us identity and uniqueness. So we call him The Leader or My Leader. So what? He is our leader.”

  “And when it’s just you and him together, will you continue to call him Adolf?”

  “I. . . . How should I know? We’re friends. Why would it change?”

  Emilee gave him a pitying look. “And the salute?”

  Hans stared at her momentarily and then threw up his hands. “So Wolfie ran home to Paula and told her all of the terrible things Adolf’s doing?”

  Her brows lowered ominously. “Wolfie was so excited about what happened tonight that he came home and told Paula all about it. He thought it was all very exciting. He was not being critical in any way. He thought it was wonderful. So, is there a salute? And is Adolf copying it from Italy’s rising dictator, Benito Mussolini?”

  “Nein! It goes back much further than that pompous windbag. It actually comes from
the times of imperial Rome. That’s how the legions greeted Caesar. Here, I’ll demonstrate.” He turned and faced her, talking as he demonstrated. “The fingers are extended but kept tightly together, and the thumb is also extended. The arm is kept rigid, with the elbow locked as you raise your hand to about the level of your eyes. You also click your heels together when you raise the arm.” He did so as he executed the salute sharply. Then he grinned. “It doesn’t work as well when you’re barefoot. Shoes make a nice clicking sound.”

  “And do you say anything when you salute?”

  “Only when we salute Adolf.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s a greeting. An acknowledgment of his leadership. We are to say, ‘Heil, Hitler.’”

  That brought her head up slowly. “Hail, Hitler? Like ‘Hail, Caesar’?”

  “It’s a greeting, Emilee,” Hans cried, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “That’s all.”

  “I see. And is that how you would like me to greet you when you come home?” She raised her arm and solemnly intoned, “Hail, O Mighty Hans.”

  “Stop it,” he growled. “This is just another of Adolf’s devices, like the flag and our name and the armbands. It creates a sense of identity and unity among us.”

  “I see. And what comes next? Chariot races? Gladiatorial games?”

  Hans stiffened. “Don’t mock me,” he hissed. “This isn’t a laughing matter.”

  She rocked back, stung by his anger. “I wasn’t laughing. I assure you of that.”

  “Emilee,” he said, half pleading now, “the party was on the verge of being torn apart this week. We need a strong and decisive leader right now. And if this salute and calling him der Führer helps to restore our unity, then I’m all for it. And you can laugh at it all you want.”

  “I wasn’t laughing, Hans,” she said again, her voice very quiet. Then she threw her hands up in the air. “You know what, you’re right. I am tired and a bit peevish. This is the fourth night this week that you’ve been gone. I’m sorry. I know that you must be exhausted too. I will say this much, then I shall shut up and go to sleep. I am very glad that the divisiveness in the party has been resolved and that Adolf came out of it even stronger than ever. And I am very proud that you are now the propaganda officer for the Nazi Party. We can talk about the rest in the morning.”