Inside the barrier there were two tables large enough to accommodate up to four people each. One of these was for the accused and one for the accusers. Both faced the judges’ platform. Adolf and General Ludendorff sat with their two attorneys at the nearest table. Three men—probably the prosecuting attorneys—sat at the other one. Behind the defendants’ table there were two rows of chairs, five chairs in each row. These were already about half filled with Hans’s codefendants. All of these—the platform, the barrier, and the chairs—were painted a drab, olive green that matched about everything else on the army base.
Seeing that the guard-cum-bailiff was scowling at him, Hans moved over to the chairs. He headed for an empty chair on the end of the back row. Ignoring the curious looks he was getting from his comrades and the packed gallery, he removed the square cushion tucked beneath his arm and carefully arranged it on the seat. Then he gingerly sat down and focused on his leg. To his pleasant surprise, the pain there did not immediately flare up as it usually did when he sat on these hard wooden chairs. The doctor had speculated that sitting on a hard surface for extended periods of time was likely pinching the nerves in his leg. So he gave Hans the cushion and some mild pain pills, with instructions to use them only if needed. And for now, at least, it looked as though it might actually work.
Hans turned and looked around the large area behind him. Hundreds of chairs had been brought in, all of which were now occupied. Dozens more stood along the back and both side walls. Hans guessed that there were about three or four hundred people present. One section had been cordoned off with ropes. A sign attached to the ropes read PRESS CORPS ONLY. Not that you needed a sign to guess who was sitting there. They all had notebooks on their laps, pencils or pens in hand, and some had extra pencils stuck behind their ears. And Adolf had been right. There were thirty or forty of them. The world had come to listen. Amazing!
Hans started a little as he recognized the men who were sitting on the front row of chairs directly behind the prosecutors’ table. They were obviously there to testify for the prosecution. Hans knew these faces well. Last November he had been confined in a room with them and watched as Adolf had harangued them, trying to get them to agree to join the revolution. They were State Commissioner Gustav von Kahr, Commanding General of the Bavarian Army Otto von Lossow, and State Police Commandant Hans von Seisser. Kahr suddenly looked up and saw Hans staring at him. He glowered at Hans with undisguised contempt.
Hans raised his eyes and scanned the crowd, looking for Emilee. He was relieved not to see her. They had allowed him a short phone call the previous evening, and he had asked her not to come. Their attorneys had told them to expect the trial to go on for a month at the least, maybe longer. And they also had said that today would likely consist mostly of preliminary maneuvers and formalities. Hans explained that when they got into the actual trial, then he would love it if Wolfie could bring Emilee down to watch things unfold. Though she was disappointed with that, she had agreed without much protest. And rightly so. It was going to be a hardship for her to leave the girls all day.
Hans turned his attention back to the front. Everyone was still waiting for the judges to enter, and most were engaged in quiet conversation. But not Ludendorff and Adolf, who sat beside each other at their table. Ludendorff, in his full dress uniform, was as stiff and cold as a ramrod and never even glanced in Adolf’s direction. If Adolf was aware of that, he gave no sign. From where Hans was sitting, it looked like Adolf was lost in his own thoughts. He was in a business suit. The attorneys had said that he could wear his uniform if he chose to, but Adolf said no. In this setting, it might anger any army officers who might be in the courtroom.
“All arise!”
It was the voice of the bailiff, a grizzled sergeant with enough service bars on his sleeve to make him at least a hundred years old. He stood, stiff as a board, at a door in the back of the hall. A moment later the door opened and a man appeared in a dress uniform, but it was not an army uniform. It was bedecked with medals and ribbons. A uniform of state, Hans decided. The man took his place in a chair set off to one side from the six chairs and desks. Hans recognized him immediately. This was Franz Gürtner, Minister of Justice for the State of Bavaria. Adolf had said that he would be here for the entire trial, even though he was not one of the judges. As Minister of Justice, these proceedings were under his direct jurisdiction.
Next came a man in the full regalia of a judge, including the cap that Hans had always thought made them look a little bit like priests. He recognized this man too. It was Georg Neithardt, the presiding judge. He was trailed by five other men—two in judges’ robes and three in business suits. These last ones were the lay judges. Hans had heard that two of them were insurance salesmen and the other was the proprietor of a book shop in Munich. Whether that was good or bad for him and his codefendants, Hans could not tell. The men weren’t really from what you would call the working classes, but their attorneys had assured them that the three men had been handpicked by Neithardt as sympathizers to the Nazi cause.
Everyone moved to his respective chair and stood at attention. A moment later a woman came in carrying several notepads and a glass jar filled with pencils. The court recorder, no doubt.
When all were in their places, Gürtner looked around at the courtroom, nodded in satisfaction, and turned to the people in the gallery. “All here present take note, the People’s Court of Munich is now in session, the Honorable Judge Georg Neithardt presiding.” He turned to Neithardt. “You may proceed,” he said, and he sat down.
Everyone else in the room sat down too as the old sergeant bellowed, “You may be seated.”
10:23 a.m.
Judge Neithardt methodically went through the formal proceedings at a slow and deliberate pace. He read out a brief but accurate summary of what had transpired on the night of November eighth and the morning of November ninth the previous year. This was followed by the formal charges of high treason against the eleven men seated in the courtroom.
Neithardt then picked up the papers in front of him and tapped them on the table until they formed a neat pile. That brought total silence in the courtroom, for it was clear that the trial was about to begin. He finally looked up.
“We shall now ask the two lead defendants in this trial to give us a statement on their part in the uprising. We shall first hear from our esteemed war hero and military leader, His Excellency General Erich Friedrich Wilhelm Ludendorff. When he has concluded his statement, he shall be followed by Herr Adolf Hitler, president of the former National Socialist Party.”
Ludendorff spoke for under five minutes. But by the time he sat down again, Hans was so angry he wanted to run over and punch the arrogant old fool in the mouth. From the beginning, Ludendorff had detested Adolf as an uncouth member of the lower class and not a career army officer. Ludendorff stated that he had only agreed to throw in with the National Socialists because he bitterly detested the Versailles Treaty and the Weimar government. He claimed he had been duped into believing that whether he liked it or not, Adolf Hitler and his party were the only ones who could successfully bring about change. His voice went cold when he stated that he had joined the cause only because Adolf had promised to make him the chancellor of the new government. Hans didn’t believe that for a minute. Hitler, from day one, had reserved that position for himself.
In a stiff, rambling narrative, Ludendorff told the judges about events on the night of the putsch and brazenly claimed that he had only come because he had been lured there under false pretenses. He said he had not known that the National Socialists planned to overthrow the Bavarian government. A lie, of course. He had been instrumental in getting the triumvirate to agree to join them. “So, Your Honors,” he concluded somberly, “I was not party to the rebellion. I was tricked into coming to the Bürgerbräukeller, and once I learned what was afoot, I disassociated myself from them as quickly as possible. In a word, I was only there that night
by accident.”
Hans had watched Adolf closely throughout Ludendorff’s statement to see what his reaction was. Though he was clearly seething underneath, he neither interrupted the pompous old fool’s narrative nor contradicted his testimony. Which was wise, Hans thought. For all his imperious ways, Ludendorff was still held in great esteem by the people.
When it was obvious that no one was going to ask the general any questions, Judge Neithardt looked to where Adolf sat. “Herr Hitler. You may now make an opening statement, if you wish.”
The Führer got slowly to his feet, his face thoughtful. “Thank you, Your Honor. May I move around the courtroom? I think much better when I’m pacing.”
“Of course,” Neithardt said warmly. “And feel free to take all the time you need.”
“What?”
Someone in the seats behind Hans—probably someone in the press corps—had blurted it out. Neithardt swung around, glaring in that direction, but suddenly everyone was studiously focused on his notepad.
Adolf seemed completely unaware of the crowd behind him as he began. His eyes were fixed on the six judges and nothing else. “In November 1918,” he began softly, “I was confined to the burn ward of the Pasewalk Military Hospital about eighty miles north of Berlin. I had been caught in a British mustard gas attack, and my throat and eyes were badly burned.”
He finally turned and glanced briefly at the crowd. “I was devastated, of course. The doctors were telling me that I might never see again, or speak again either. I felt as though I had fallen into a pit of the deepest despair. And in the midst of that despair, what came next? We learned that our government leaders had stabbed us in the back by negotiating an armistice without the knowledge of the army commanders. They gave away all that we had fought for, all that so many had died for. My anguish at that news was far more intense than my fear about my injuries. I had been a totally obedient soldier on the front. I had fought for the Fatherland and was even willing to shed my blood. But now? How could I continue to blindly obey a government of criminals?”
Ripples of angry agreement swept through the room, so Adolf turned and addressed the audience, particularly focusing on those in the press area. What he said next came out with great emphasis; he was almost punching out the words. “Do I exaggerate? You tell me. What followed that shameful armistice and the sellout of our people in the Versailles Treaty? I’ll tell you what. Bolshevism! Red flags flying over our cities, including Berlin. Chaos in our streets. The Spartacans seizing power and inviting the Russian Bear to come in and feed on the spoils.”
People were nodding and calling out their agreement.
“And who stood with the Freikorps and the army to put down that rebellion?” a harsh voice shouted.
Hans spun around. Gustav von Kahr, the former head of the Bavarian triumvirate appointed to rule during the emergency decree, was on his feet. His fists were clenched and trembling, his face a mottled red. “We did. The very government you so lightly dismiss as criminals. Who stood against the French in a campaign of passive resistance when they occupied the Ruhr Valley? It wasn’t this . . . this . . .” Spittle sprayed from his mouth as he sought for an appropriate epithet to describe Adolf. “This corporal, who was no more than a drummer boy in the army. He dreams of commanding armies and longs to be a minister of state so that after his death he can have a monument built to his name. But his lust for fame and power has nearly brought utter chaos to the Fatherland. Had he succeeded in his putsch, we would now be a protectorate of Berlin.”
Kahr started to sit down but then straightened again, glaring at the judges. “That’s what the Communists hope for, for they know that chaos opens up opportunities for them to seize power once again. Talk about a Red Menace! That is what this corporal who would be dictator nearly brought down on our heads.” Fuming, he sat down again.
A few voices called out and someone started to clap, but overall the reaction was one of shock. The crowds had come expecting to see some sparks fly, but nothing like this.
Suddenly Kahr was on his feet again. “This madman held a gun to our heads that night and made us agree to join with him. But the moment he turned his back on us, we escaped and took what actions were needed to put down his paltry little rebellion before he could destroy us, and the whole nation with us.”
Hans von Seisser jumped up beside his companion. “If I had not given the command to have our state police fire on these foolish boys playing at being men, the disaster that Minister von Kahr has just described would be upon us now even as we speak.”
Hitler strode over and stood in front of the three leaders. “Yes, Colonel von Seisser, to your everlasting shame, you did have your men fire upon us in a most cowardly manner. We were marching peacefully up Residenzstrasse to meet up with the army and link arms with them. We were in civilian clothes, and not one of us had so much as a revolver in his hands.”
Hans nearly choked on that. Civilian clothes? Maybe a few. Unarmed? Hardly.
“You were marching on the War Ministry!” Seisser thundered. “And you had five hundred stormtroopers at your back. Your Captain Roehm, who sits in this courtroom today, had already occupied the War Ministry and was waiting for your troops to join him so that you could march on the Reichstag and seize full power from the government.”
Hitler smiled sadly, shaking his head. “We were marching under the banner of the swastika to join Captain Roehm and his men so that we could then link arms with the forces of General von Lossow. When I learned that it was the state police that first fired on us, and not the Reichswehr, I was grateful that it was not the army that had stained their honor. The army stands as untarnished as before, and one day, the army will stand with us, officers and men. Mark my words.”
Seisser was so livid at that accusation that he was spluttering. To everyone’s surprise, Judge Neithardt spoke up. “Herr Hitler, the state police were only doing their duty. I cannot permit you to say that their honor was stained.”
Hitler completely ignored him. “Only a small group of us saw what the people fear most, the red flag of Communism flying over our nation. There are only two choices for our nation. Either we let our government poison our people, or we bleed that poison off. Then, and only then, can Germany recover. As far as I am concerned, Germany will be rescued only when the last Marxist has been converted or annihilated.”
“Hear, hear!” someone shouted.
“He speaks the truth,” someone else yelled.
Hitler looked at the judges. “That is the voice of the people, Your Honors. Policy is not made with the palm branch. It is made with the sword.”
Now the whole crowd burst out in applause. Adolf bowed his head, humbly acknowledging their accolades. When he spoke again, his voice was soft but filled with passion. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear,” he said. “I alone bear responsibility for what happened last November. These others should be freed, for they were only obeying my orders. And yet, though I was their leader, I am not a criminal. I stand here charged with high treason. Well, I plead guilty to being a revolutionary, but I was revolting against the true traitors in our nation, those November criminals who stabbed us in the back at Compiegne and Versailles.”
Adolf swung back to the judges, his voice trembling with rage now. “How can revolution be treasonable when it seeks to pull down the treasonous criminals who threaten all that the Fatherland stands for? How can we ignore the voice of the people as these leaders sit on their velvet thrones in their jeweled palaces and tell us that humiliation is the only way to survive?”
The crowd erupted with a guttural roar of approval, and Hans felt his heart soar. This was the tender spot that had been eating at the heart of the German people for six years now—the humiliation, the suffering, the sacrifices, the sellouts—all signed off by their own government, all given away when they put their signatures on the Versailles Treaty. A vast majority of the people in Germany had a
visceral, almost animalistic, resentment for what their leaders had done, and that was what Hitler knew better than anyone.
“How dare you impugn our names and our motives!” Kahr shouted. “You don’t know what you are talking—”
Hitler cut in sharply. “No, Minister! You cannot have it both ways. If I am guilty of treason for plotting to overthrow the government in Berlin, then you and your two associates are guilty as well. It is common knowledge that earlier in the year all three of you joined us and other groups in the Kampfbund in talks about how to overthrow the Weimar government.” He swung around to the gallery. “Do I speak the truth?” he bellowed.
“Yes!”
“Some of you journalists were present at those meetings,” he shouted. “Were our esteemed leaders there with us or not?”
“They were there!” someone shouted as many other heads bobbed.
“Were we holding a gun to their heads?”
“NO!”
Adolf swung back around to face the judges. “If I am guilty of conspiring to overthrow a corrupt and wicked government, then someone please escort Herr von Kahr, Herr von Lossow, and Herr von Seisser up here to sit with me at the defendants’ table, for they are as guilty of treason as I am.”
Lossow shot to his feet, his face livid. “How dare you?” he yelled. “I was no unemployed member of some ragtag band of rebels. As commander of the army, I occupied a high position with the State. I was there only to see what could be done to maintain order and see how we could negotiate with Berlin to bring freedom to our people. And I—”
“Well,” Adolf cut in with a sneer, “that part is certainly true. You were there learning how to negotiate with Berlin. And, oh, how well you learned that lesson.”
The general’s face was almost purple now. “It is a lie!” he shrieked. “An attempt to smear our names and ruin our reputations. State Minister von Kahr is correct. Herr Hitler is nothing but an unemployed army corporal, an upstart drummer boy, an unscrupulous demagogue who promises to give the people what they so desperately long for but who cannot deliver so much as a loaf of bread to them. He is the one who preached treason. We were there to try to stop it.”
The Proud Shall Stumble Page 17