The Proud Shall Stumble

by Gerald N. Lund

  Adolf’s hand shot across the table and gripped Hans’s wrist like steel talons. “And my question to you is very simple. I sent you away before, asking you to stay clear of the party for this very reason. I didn’t want you caught up in the pettiness, the jealousies, the infighting. But I am back now. So my question to you is this: will you join with me as we begin to rebuild?”

  As he released his grip on Hans’s wrist, Hans looked him straight in the eye. “Jawohl, mein Führer. What would you like me to do?”

  “I will have an outline of what I want to say at the rally delivered to the garage tomorrow before noon. Go over it very carefully, then call me when you’re ready. I do not have a telephone in my flat, but I will send a number where I can be reached. Then come to the Bürgerbräukeller at seven o’clock Friday night and we’ll make what changes are needed then.”

  “All right. Are women invited to the rally?”

  “But of course. Bring Emilee, by all means.”

  “I will. We’ll find someone to watch the girls.” Hans glanced at the clock. “Then I’ll be off. Until tomorrow.”

  10:22 p.m.—Eckhardt Residence, Munich

  It was no surprise to Hans that Emilee was in the living room waiting for him. Her basket of needlepoint was beside her on the floor, but she obviously had not been working on it, for only one lamp was lit.

  Emilee stood and quickly came over to greet him. “Hello, handsome,” she said, reaching up to touch Hans’s clean-shaven chin.

  He bent down and kissed her and then motioned toward the sofa. “I knew you would wait up for me.”

  “Of course I would. So tell me everything.”

  So he did. Hans talked steadily for nearly twenty minutes, with Emilee interrupting from time to time to ask questions. “And he really said I was invited to the rally?”

  “He did,” Hans answered. “We can leave the kids with Ernst and Heinz-Albert.”

  “Unless Ernst has a date with Landra.”

  Hans reared back. “Landra? Who’s Landra?”

  “That waitress that works at Fritzie Kharkov’s Biergarten.”

  “But. . . .” Hans was completely taken aback. “Ernst hasn’t worked for Fritzie for a couple of years now.”

  Emilee smiled. “I know.”

  “Wait. So when he tells us he’s going over to Fritzie’s for dinner, he’s really—”

  Emilee laughed. “That’s right. He’s not going just for the food. Has he never talked about her with you?”

  “No, never.”

  “Then you can’t say a word to him, Hans. If I even ask about her, he goes beet red. Remember, he hasn’t courted a woman since his fiancée ran off with another man. That was years and years ago.”

  “Well, well, well. Good for Ernst.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sidetrack you,” Emilee said. “If he’s busy, I’ll see if Paula or Anna can take the girls.”

  “If Wolfie hears about the rally, he’ll want to go. Probably Ernst too, actually.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Hey! Why don’t we all go together? You and me, Wolfie and Paula, and Ernst and this Landra. Gretl can come over and stay with the girls.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Emilee said. “I’ll talk to them tomorrow. But nothing from you about Landra, okay? Now, back to Adolf. Did he really ask about Nazi jokes?”

  “He did, but only to make his point about how far the party has fallen from grace.”

  “Do you think anything will come of this, Hans? Or will he have you look at his speech and then you’ll go months before you hear from him again?”

  Hans shrugged, acting as though it didn’t matter either way. “Part of that will depend on how many come Friday. He rented the large hall at the Bürgerbräukeller, which I think was a huge mistake. That hall seats four thousand. I’m sure he’s invited the press. So if attendance is a bust, that will make the papers too.”

  “You didn’t say that to him, did you?”

  Hans laughed, put his arm around his wife, and nudged her toward the bedroom. “My little Emilee, always worrying about her clod of a husband. No, I didn’t say that to him. Let’s go to bed.”

  11:22 p.m.

  Emilee waited until she was absolutely certain that Hans was asleep, and then she slipped out from under the covers, tiptoed over to the armoire and got her robe, and then eased the door open and went back out to the living room. She sat down on the sofa without turning on any lights.

  And then she let all the feelings that she had been holding in check come pouring out. One part of it was wonder. No, amazement was the better word. Two days ago she had decided to fast, hoping that this extra spiritual effort would help call down the blessings of heaven in behalf of her husband. And today, less than twenty-four hours after she had finished her fast, this had come.

  The change between the Hans of two days ago and the Hans she had just put to bed was so dramatic, so remarkable, that there was no question in her mind that this was the Lord’s answer. Hans would call it a coincidence; she was sure of that. But in just one day, it was as though nothing had changed between Hans and Adolf. They had spent six hours together. That wasn’t just old friends catching up. Adolf had opened his heart to Hans, shared his fears, bared his soul, asked for his advice, sought his counsel on his upcoming speech. Just like in the old days. And the effect on Hans was astonishing.

  A scripture came to Emilee’s mind. This kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting.

  She slipped to her knees, bowed her head, and closed her eyes.

  Chapter Notes

  After serving a prison sentence of about thirteen months, Hitler was released on parole and returned to Munich, where he found the party in ­shambles. Greatly discouraged, he immediately set about to restore the National Socialist Party to its former glory and power.

  Hitler did negotiate with Bavaria’s new prime minister, who agreed to lift the ban on the party and let their newspaper resume publication. The attempt to deport Hitler to Austria was vigorously pushed by the state police, but the state’s supreme court eventually dismissed their request. That ended the issue, and some months later, Hitler applied for and was granted German citizenship, which was a huge relief for him.

  Many of the ideas that Adolf espouses here come from what he wrote in the first installment of Mein Kampf, which he dictated while he was in prison. His thinking was influenced heavily by prominent German philosophers such as Hegel and Nietzsche, and the quotes given here were some that were particularly influential in his thinking. The writings of Houston S. Chamberlain, an Englishman turned German philosopher, had a sweeping impact on his thinking and the policies set by the Nazi Party that would later shock the world for generations to come.

  The letter from Chamberlain to Hitler included here is quoted almost word for word (see Rise and Fall, 109). Shirer’s extensive treatment of the events that followed the trial and imprisonment, as well as the influences that so profoundly affected Hitler’s thinking, are masterfully summarized in his concise but thorough treatment of this time period (see especially chapter 4, “The Mind of Hitler and the Roots of the Third Reich,” 80–113).

  February 27, 1925, 6:55 p.m.—Bürgerbräukeller, Munich

  Hans looked around, searching the faces in the crowd. Though Adolf had told him to meet just outside the main doors, Hans couldn’t see him anywhere. It wasn’t quite seven o’clock, but Hans guessed Adolf was already inside making sure everything was ready.

  “Hans. Over here.”

  He turned and saw Rudolf Hess pushing through the crowds toward him, waving a hand in the air. They shook hands quickly. “The Führer asked me to meet you. He is inside, working on his speech.”

  “No surprise there. How is he doing?” Hans asked.

  There was a short laugh. “He’s as nervous as I’ve ever seen him. Pacing back and forth, snapping at anyone who interrupts his
thoughts.”

  “This is a big one,” Hans said soberly. He looked around. “But the crowds are encouraging.”

  “Ja, ja! We are sold out.”

  “All four thousand seats?” Hans asked incredulously.

  “Ja, and more.”

  “Wunderbar! That’s got to be a huge relief.”

  “Yes, but it is adding to his nervousness,” Hess said. “Anyway, here are the tickets for your group. Five, right?” When Hans nodded, Hess added, “We have a table down near the front reserved for them. They can’t miss it. It’s about three rows back, and your name is on it.” He pulled some tickets from his shirt pocket and handed them to Hans.

  “Down front?” Hans echoed. “I didn’t expect that.”

  “When you told the Führer that your uncle is a high-ranking official in the Department of the Interior, he said you needed something close. He’s in room six in that back hallway. He asked that you join him immediately.”

  “I’ll be right there. Danke, Rudolf.”

  “Bitte.” Hess turned and pushed his way into the crowd again.

  Hans moved back to his family, handed the tickets to Wolfie, and told them what Rudolf had said. He turned to Emilee. “Adolf is waiting for me, so I’d better go. I’ll see if he’ll let me sit with you while he speaks, but don’t count on it. He’s asked me to sit on the stand.”

  “Then don’t ask about sitting with us,” Emilee said. “We’ll see you afterwards.”

  Hans turned to Ernst and the woman who stood beside him. Landra Pfaffenberger was a tall woman, probably five foot seven or eight, Hans guessed. Slender of frame, she wore her hair pulled back in a bun and wore little makeup. Some might find her plain, Hans thought, but she smiled easily, and her blue eyes were quite lovely. Ernst was six foot two or three, so they made an attractive couple. “I have to go,” Hans said, speaking to the two of them. “I am happy to meet you, Landra, and I’m delighted that you could join us tonight.”

  A broad smile lit up her face. “I am so excited. I’ve read so much about Hitler, and now to be here and hear him in person? This is wonderful. Thank you so much, Hans.”

  “You are welcome.” Hans spoke to Ernst. “You can’t always predict what Adolf will do. Typically after he finishes speaking he likes to mingle with the people, but not always. But if he does, Ernst, you bring Landra up and I’ll introduce both of you to him.” He looked at Wolfie. “And you and Paula, too. He specifically asked to see you again so he can say hello. It’s thanks to your position in the Ministry that you have a reserved table three rows back from the speaker’s stand.” The others were suitably impressed, even though Wolfie brushed it off as if it were nothing.

  Then Hans had another thought and turned back to his brother-in-law. “Ernst, I’m wondering why you haven’t invited Landra to have dinner with us sometime, so we can get to know her better.”

  Landra blushed mildly, but Ernst’s face was bright red. “I. . . . Actually. . . .” Ernst looked at Landra and then away. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about asking Emilee if I could.”

  “Of course!” Emilee exclaimed. “We would love that.”

  Ernst turned back to Landra, who gave him a radiant smile. “And I would love it too,” she said. Grinning, Hans turned to Emilee, bent down, and kissed her on the cheek. “I hope I can come home with all of you, but Adolf may want to meet afterwards and discuss how it went.”

  “Then we’ll see you at home.” She reached out and squeezed his hands. “I’m so excited for you, Hans. This is a big night.”

  “Thank you, Schatzi. Who would have guessed it three days ago, eh?”

  “Indeed,” Emilee said, her eyes shining with pride.

  8:12 p.m.

  So much about what Hans saw now brought back chilling memories of that night of November 8, 1923. The hall was filled to overflowing. The dull roar of four thousand conversations was a constant. The clank of steins as waitresses flitted back and forth trying to quench the German love of beer added to the cacophony. Without Hans willing it, his hand moved down and began to massage his leg. It was aching abominably tonight, and he guessed that wasn’t just from sitting on a chair without a cushion.

  The crowd was relatively quiet as Rudolf welcomed everyone and conducted a few minor items of business. Finished with that, he picked up his papers and let his eyes sweep the hall—which brought almost instant silence. Hans was hoping that Rudolf, the man who was now Adolf’s closest confidant and aide, would not give a lengthy introduction. The crowd had come to hear the recently released Adolf Hitler. Rudolf clearly knew it. Lowering the papers to his side, he spoke only six words, and he did so with great solemnity: “Ladies and gentlemen, the Führer speaks.”

  Hitler stood, his notes in one hand, the other hand raised high as he waved in response to the instant roar of applause and shouts that had burst out. Here and there a few people got to their feet, but when no one else followed, they quickly sat down again. Adolf had thought he might wear his light brown stormtrooper uniform. It did make him look handsome and quite imposing in demeanor. But Hans had tactfully suggested that if anyone from the government were here tonight, which they almost certainly would be, they might see that as a gesture of defiance. That was something they wanted to avoid at all costs. So Adolf had agreed and worn what looked like a new, charcoal-grey business suit with a white shirt and conservative red tie. On his left upper arm he wore the armband of the Nazi Party. The band was bright red. On it was a circle of white with a black swastika inside. He also wore his Iron Cross medal pinned to the left side of his coat. That had been Adolf’s idea, which Hans enthusiastically endorsed. The Iron Cross was a very positive symbol that was instantly recognized by virtually every German.

  Finally Adolf set his notes on the podium and looked down at them. The crowd immediately quieted. Hans held his breath for a moment. Here we go!

  But Adolf just stood there, his head down. Suddenly, Hans realized that Adolf was struggling to get control of his emotions. He was stunned. Adolf! Near tears? For about one second Hans wondered if this was a ploy. But he knew better. Then he looked out at the audience. No one moved. Hardly anyone even breathed. They were seeing it too. Adolf hadn’t spoken a word, and yet he had the rapt attention of everyone in the room.

  When his head did come up, he spoke softly, his voice barely loud enough for the microphone to pick up. “My fellow countrymen,” he began, “it was one year, two months, and nineteen days ago that I last stood at this pulpit and spoke to you. On that night, I triumphantly announced that our party and a coalition of others had just seized control of the Bavarian government. Less than twenty-four hours later, sixteen of our men lay dead, and the National Socialist Party was declared to be defunct.

  “Two months and three days ago, I was released from the prison where I was sent to pay for my so-called crimes. I confess openly to you here tonight that what I did was foolish, impetuous, and poorly planned—that I alone failed to seize the moment and carry it through. Tonight, I take full responsibility for that failure. I was the one in charge, and I failed those who stood with me, and I failed the German people.”

  All of that had been said as he stared down at the podium and fiddled with his papers. Now his head came up sharply. “And now, here I am, once again standing before you. Some say I am a broken man. Some have already consigned me to the trash heap of history.”

  Murmurs of protest broke out around the hall.

  “Even some of our former comrades have left our ranks, thinking that the National Socialist Party is nothing but a paper tiger now and that our attempted revolt that night was nothing more than a bunch of circus clowns acting out their silly foolishness. Again I say, I am the one to blame for that failure. I believed that those high up in our government would stand with us—as they had promised to do!” Those last words he thundered out as he slammed his fist against the podium, causing many to jump in their s
eats.

  “It was stupid of me to believe them to be men of honor, to think that our highest government officials in the State of Bavaria were honest men.”

  The reaction to that was instantaneous and visceral. There was a roar of anger.

  Hitler’s voice rose to a shout. “And to those who say we failed, I ask only two questions. Number one, where is State Minister Gustav von Kahr now?”

  There were more cries of anger and a burst of applause.

  “That’s right. He has slunk away in shame, and now his office is occupied by another. And where is General Otto von Lossow, former commander of the Bavarian Reichswehr? Will you find him at the army barracks? No! Will you find him at the Ministry of War? I say unto you, nay! He has”—Adolf raised both hands and with two fingers of each made quotation marks in the air—“‘retired’ his command so that he does not have to face the shame of his abysmal failures.”

  The crowd was loving this, calling out or clapping their hands as he finished each sentence. Adolf straightened to his full height and lifted his head high. “Friends and fellow countrymen, two of our former state leaders have fled from the field of battle, have tucked their tails and run like frightened puppies. And now the rumors are rife that Colonel von Seisser, head of the Bavarian State Police, is also about to resign. So I ask you, ladies and gentlemen, do you think that we failed that night?”

  “No!” The roar was immediate.

  Now Adolf’s voice rang out like a hammer hitting steel. “Because of my time in prison, they now call me an ex-convict. I proudly accept that title, because I was jailed for my convictions!”

  Another roar of affirmation. Hans glanced down at the table where his family was seated and saw that Emilee was looking at him. Her eyes were wide and filled with pride. It was a look he hadn’t seen from her for some time.