Fire and Steel, Volume 3

by Gerald N. Lund

  “Yes,” Drexler shouted, “but that wave is still rising. And we must not try to seize the moment until we are certain that the moment has fully arrived.”

  “Why are you saying that to me, Anton? Go out in the streets. Find the people who are starving to death with billions of marks in their pockets and tell them that their time has not yet come. Find the farmers who are eating their work animals and their seed corn, and tell them to be patient. How dare you say that to the people who take a billion marks to the grocer and come back with a straggly bunch of carrots and a few ounces of sugar.”

  Drexler had leaned forward, his head down, his hands folded in his lap, and Hans knew that Adolf had won. And Adolf evidently knew it too, for suddenly his voice dropped in volume and intensity, and he began to pace again. The orator was gone, and the thoughtful, reasoning teacher was back. Hitler cocked his head to one side as if deep in thought.

  “Would you have me tell you how to get the people to join us in a revolt?”

  “Yes!” someone called out. Someone else applauded.

  “It is simple. Inform them. Tell the people what their government is hiding from them. Tell the people that the reason their government goes on calmly printing these useless scraps of paper we call money is because the nobility, and the industrialists, and the great landlords, and the estate owners, and the army love what is happening because they are using that worthless money to pay off billions upon billions of debt they borrowed during the war. Let the people who are literally freezing to death in the squalor of their tenement houses take a peek inside the palaces and mansions where the super rich throw lavish parties and eat caviar as an appetizer.

  “This is what we must do, my brethren. We must help the people see that their government is nothing more nor less than a robber baron state.” His voice dropped to a bare whisper. “And if the people ever find out that we knew that and did nothing about it, then we are finished.”

  He looked directly at Drexler. “Say what you will to the people, Anton, but as for me, I say, enough! From this day forward, from this very moment forward, the motto of the National Socialists will no longer be, ‘Down with France.’ It will be, ‘Down with the November criminals! Down with the men who are sucking the very lifeblood from our nation!’” He clenched his fist and punched the air above him. “Down with the traitors to the Fatherland. Let them be damned!”

  Instantly, every man in the room, including Anton Drexler and Heinrich Hoffmann, was on his feet, shouting, whistling, pounding his hands together, stomping his boots on the floor until the very rafters shook.

  5:44 p.m.

  Hans was working with Ernst Roehm, Rudolf Hess, Hermann Goering, and Emil Maurice on security plans for their next large rally, which was to be held in the Circus Krone in two weeks. This was a huge venue that could seat six thousand, and they were discussing how to best deploy the five hundred S.A. troops throughout the audience. Adolf came over to listen to their plans. Other small groups were working on their own assignments in the room.

  The low buzz in the room suddenly stopped when a pretty waitress in a bright red Dirndl entered the room. She looked around. “Is there a Herr Hans Eckhardt here?”

  Hans started and then raised his hand. “Yes. Here.”

  “Telephone.” She pointed to the corner of the room where there was a small bar. “There’s a phone behind the counter.”

  Surprised, Hans got to his feet and went to the bar. Every eye was on him. No one got interruptions during executive committee meetings.

  Adolf was seated between Hermann Goering and Ernst Roehm, and Goering was in the middle of making a point. Adolf held up a hand, cutting him off. His eyes were fixed on Hans. As he watched, Hans suddenly stiffened and his face went ashen. He spoke urgently for several seconds. One hand came up and covered his eyes. Finally, he barked something into the phone and slammed it down onto its hook.

  Adolf was on his feet as Hans turned and came blindly toward them. He raced to his side. “Hans! What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Hans looked at him like he was a stranger. “It’s my father,” he cried in an agonized whisper. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Where?”

  “To Graswang.” He pulled free and started toward the door.

  Adolf swung around. “Emil! Come.”

  Emil Maurice leaped to his feet and ran to him. “Jawohl, mein Führer?”

  “You are my driver tonight, right?”

  “Jawohl, mein Führer.”

  “Then take Hans wherever he has to go. And stay with him as long as he needs you.”

  “Jawohl, mein Führer!”

  Adolf gripped his arm. “No questions,” he whispered. “Don’t say anything to him unless he speaks to you first.”

  “Jawohl, mein Führer.” Maurice snapped off a salute and ran after Hans.

  Chapter Notes

  As the developing governmental crisis deepened in the summer and fall of 1923 as depicted here, some of the revolutionists believed that the government had won too many people to their side with their Ruhr Valley resistance program. When the mood changed again in September of that year, some still called for patience to let the mood of rebellion spread. Hitler, on the other hand, saw it as an opportune moment to capitalize on the disillusionment and anger of the people and called for immediate revolution. The key elements of what he says here, including the new motto of the party, comes from statements he made at that time (see Shirer, Rise and Fall, 62–65).

  November 5, 1923, 7:38 p.m.—Train station, Oberammergau

  As they entered the town, Hans came alert with a start. What if Karl was at the train station right now? he thought. When his brother-in-law had called him at the Kindl Keller, Hans had had no inkling that Adolf would offer him his car and driver. So Hans had told Karl that he would catch a train south as quickly as he could. However, since he had no idea of what the evening train schedules were, he told Karl to wait at home and he would call him when he got to Oberammergau. But knowing Karl’s methodical and deliberate way of doing things, it would be just like him to drive into town and wait at the station so no time was wasted.

  Hans leaned forward and tapped Maurice on the shoulder. “Emil, could you pull into the train station? It’s just ahead. I want to make sure my family didn’t come in to wait for me.”

  “Of course.” It was the first they had spoken to each other in almost an hour.

  Five minutes later Hans was back at the car and knocking on the driver’s window. When Emil rolled it down, Hans explained. “My mother and brother-in-law were waiting for me inside. I’m going to ride home with them. If you need to go back to Munich, then—”

  There was an instant and emphatic shake of the head. “Der Führer told me that I was to take you wherever you needed to go and to stay with you as long as necessary. Are you planning to go back to Munich tonight?”

  “No. Well, I don’t think so.” Hans’s mind was churning. “Maybe. It depends on what I find out. I may have to get back to the city as soon as possible.”

  “Then I will follow behind you and wait until you know what you need to do.”

  Hans touched his shoulder briefly. “Thank you, Emil. We are in that grey Alpensieger over there. It’s my father’s car. My village is only about ten minutes away.”

  “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Hans made sure that Emil was behind them and then settled back. He was in the backseat with his mother while Karl drove. “Okay, Mama,” he said. “I know you’re very upset, but you and Karl start at the beginning and tell me what happened.”

  Inga wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “You start, Karl. You know more than I do. I’ll add what I know as you go.”

  Karl’s shoulders rose and fell and there was a deep sigh. “Have you ever met a Herr Burnard Lehmann from Garmisch-Partenkirchen?”

  “Lehmann? Not that I remember.” />
  “He is a lawyer who specializes in real estate law. He also has a broker’s license to sell real estate anywhere in Bavaria. There are lots of rumors about some shady deals he’s done over the years, but he’s slick enough that he’s never been arrested or charged with anything.”

  “And you had no inkling of this whatsoever?”

  “None. Not until this morning when Oma happened to find the papers in your father’s coat pocket.”

  “This morning!” Hans cried. “And you waited until this afternoon to call?”

  “We weren’t sure what it all meant. At first we thought it was a hoax. We immediately started trying to find out if it was true.”

  “And your father refused to talk to us at first,” Inga said softly. “He was very defensive.” She started to cry. “I should have known that day he came home from Oberammergau that something was wrong. He was very excited. Said that he had found a way to make sure we could keep the farm safe.”

  “Keep it safe?” Hans cried incredulously. “He thought that selling it was the way to keep it safe?”

  She looked away. “He didn’t say any of that. He didn’t tell me that he had met with some men. Just that he had this idea. I finally decided it was just another of his little moments of being out of touch with reality.” Her hands came up and covered her face. “I’m sorry, Hans. I should have known.” Her shoulders began to shake as she tried to choke back the sobs. “Oh, Hans! What are we going to do? What are we going to do?”

  He reached out and laid a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Mama. That’s why I’m here. Me and Karl and the boys will figure this out.”

  Karl reached down to the seat beside him and handed a sheaf of papers back to Hans. “As you’ll see, they have put the property in a receivership. They told Opa Hans that this would keep it safe from any creditors. They got him half drunk, painted this rose-colored picture for him, and got him to sign. What they conveniently didn’t tell him is that Lehmann owns the receivership lock, stock, and barrel. The farm is his now.”

  Hans began to read. A moment later he gasped. “They offered him only a hundred billion marks?” He searched the papers. “What day was this signed?”

  “The first. Five days ago. And you’ll note that it’s all notarized, though Opa swears there was only him and Lehmann when he signed it. Then they went to the bank, which conveniently was open on a Saturday morning, and let him see his money. The bank had it all stacked in a laundry hamper for him to see. One hundred billion marks in million-mark notes.”

  Hans barely heard that last part. “Inflation has been doubling every day, Karl! This is worth virtually nothing now. Nothing!”

  “It was worth a pittance even then,” Karl said bitterly. “Rudi figured it out. A hundred billion marks five days ago was worth less than a dollar in American money. Less than a dollar! For sixty-five acres of land, four homes, two barns, several outbuildings, and all equipment and livestock as detailed in the papers.”

  The timbre of his voice told Hans that Karl was on the verge of breaking down too. Then suddenly, a thrill of excitement shot through him. “Wait! This paper is worthless. It doesn’t matter if Papa signed it or not. The farm belongs to Ilse, Heidi, and Anna now. Remember, I signed a disclaimer giving up my rights as heir and giving it to them.”

  Karl’s shoulders slumped.

  “What, Karl?”

  “You signed a paper renouncing your rights to the farm,” he said woodenly, “which was an incredible thing to do, Hans. But your father retained his rights to the farm until his death. It was legally his to sell. I checked that with our attorney.”

  Hans’s euphoria was instantly dashed. “When do they take possession?” he whispered.

  “On December first. Two weeks from now.”

  Hans fell back against the seat feeling like he was going to throw up.

  “What are we going to do, Hans?” his mother cried again. “Two weeks. Where will we go? We have all of the children. Our furniture. All our belongings.”

  That pulled Hans out of his own stupor. He took Inga in his arms. “Mama, this isn’t over. You’re not going to lose the farm. I promise you that.”

  He fought to keep the bleakness out of his voice, because he had this terrible feeling that his words were as worthless as the hundred billion marks his father had sitting in a bank.

  8:07 p.m.—Eckhardt dairy farm

  Hans got out of the car and walked back to Emil. Emil rolled down the window as he approached. “Is there anything I can do to help, Hans?”

  Hans shook his head and quickly told Maurice what was going on. Shocked, Emil swore softly. “I’ve heard that’s happening elsewhere too. Slicksters and con men preying on the elderly.”

  “We’re going to fight it, but. . . . Anyway, I need to talk to my father. But then I’m going back to Munich tonight. I need to see if we have any options. Why don’t you come in? I’ll probably be another half an hour or so.”

  “I’m all right.”

  Hans nodded and smiled faintly. “Don’t be surprised if Mama comes out with something for you to eat.”

  “I’m fine, really.”

  “You can tell her that, but it won’t make any difference.” He turned and followed Karl and his mother into the house.

  8:12 p.m.

  “Are you sure you won’t come in with me, Mama?”

  “I’m sure, Hans. You go in and be with your father. I’ll be downstairs. I’ll get you something to eat.”

  He smiled and touched her cheek. “Thank you, Mama.”

  He opened the bedroom door and stepped inside and then carefully shut it behind him. There was a small lamp by the bed, and his mother had left it on. “Hello, Vati.”

  Hans Sr. came up on one elbow. “Hans?”

  “Ja, Papa. It’s me.” He went over and sat down beside him.

  “But what are you doing here?”

  “I came down to see you and Mama, Papa.”

  “Is . . . uh. . . .”

  “No, Papa. Emilee and the girls couldn’t come. But we’ll come down in a few days and see you. Would you like that?”

  Hans Sr. nodded weakly and lay back and closed his eyes. Hans studied his face, seeing the lines and wrinkles that were emphasized by the lamplight. Emilee was right. The cancer had taken its toll. He looked old for a man in his mid-sixties. His eyes opened again and he held out his hand. Hans took it and held it tight. After a moment, Hans Sr. coughed, and coughed again. He wiped his mouth with his other hand and then turned to look up at Hans. “Did Mama tell you that I have been very bad?”

  “Bad? No, Vati. You are a good man.”

  He shook his head and suddenly his eyes were pools of tears. “She didn’t tell you about the farm?”

  Hans hesitated and then nodded. “She did, Papa. But that was a bad man that did that to you, and we’re going to fix it.”

  “Stupid!” he said as he closed his eyes again. “So stupid.”

  “No, Papa. I won’t have you saying that. You are not stupid. You were tricked, Vati. And we are going to fix it.”

  His eyes flicked open. “We?”

  “Me, Papa. I’m going to fix it. We’ll get the farm back. I have some ideas.”

  “I’m sorry, Hans.”

  “No, Papa!”

  “You gave it to your sisters. A grand thing. Now I give it to a crook.”

  “He is a crook, and he’s not going to get away with it.”

  He was shaking his head but squeezed Hans’s hand very hard. “Promise?”

  “I promise, Vati. Now rest. It’s late.” Hans bent down and kissed him on the cheek. “Mama will get cross with you if you don’t get your rest.”

  Hans Sr. smiled and nodded and then cracked one eye open and smiled. “But she’s all bluster.”

  That made Hans laugh right out loud. �
��Yes, she is. All bluster.”

  Hans Sr.’s eyes closed and his breathing began to deepen. “Stay with me?”

  “I will, Vati. I’m right here.”

  And within a minute, his breathing slowed and deepened even more and he began to snore. Hans waited another five minutes until the snoring was deep and sonorous and then pried his hand from his father’s grasp, pulled the covers up around his neck, and quietly left the room.

  8:25 p.m.

  Hans stopped on the porch and looked at his three brothers-in-law. He turned to Karl. “Do you know where Lehmann lives?” he asked quietly.

  “No, Hans. That is not the best way to handle this.”

  “I don’t give a tinker’s dam if it’s the best way to handle it or not.”

  “Listen to me, Hans!” Karl cried. “I went to Lehmann’s office. Me and Rudi and Klaus, this afternoon. We threatened to take him to court. He laughed in our faces. But he’s also got two goons around him at all times, and he made it clear that if we wanted to make trouble, he’d be happy to oblige.”

  “I don’t care!” Hans said. He touched the scars on his cheek. “I got these from goons like them. And I’ll get more if that’s what it takes.”

  Karl was pleading now. “Hans, I have a brother in Munich. He lives in the same tenement as a land agent. He put me in touch with him, and I talked to him this evening while we were waiting for you. He said that this kind of thing is happening all over. And going after them and trying to intimidate them only makes things worse. They have police on their payroll, judges in their pockets. You’ll be the one going to jail.” He overrode Hans’s protest. “My brother wants to meet with you tomorrow. He can make time at eleven. He says he can give you some strategies that might work. But—and he said this three times, Hans—do not go after this guy alone. Not only will you lose, but you will alert Lehmann and he’ll make sure all of his ducks are lined up against you. And we could end up losing a lot more than the farm.”