Plotting Hitler's Death

by Joachim C. Fest

  Shortly after midnight Stülpnagel returned to his headquarters in the Hôtel Majestic. Defying Kluge’s orders, he did not immediately release the arrested officials and troops. Instead he went to the Hôtel Raphael next door, which served as the officers’ mess. The rooms were packed, and in the great din there was much clinking of glasses. Officers and their civilian co-workers-people who were privy to what was going on and people who had had no idea-were all cele­brating the arrests and the apparently imminent end of the war. Sud­denly a voice from the radio room rose above the general clamor, announcing that the Führer was about to speak.

  The room fell silent. Stülpnagel entered, took a few steps forward toward the radio, and then remained there, still as a statue, as Hitler began to speak. The Führer raged about “a very small clique of ambi­tious, wicked, and stupidly criminal officers,” thanked Providence for his survival, and condemned the “coterie of criminal elements which is now being mercilessly rooted out.” One officer noted that Stülpnagel was under “tremendous tension” but “showed no sign of emotion as he stood there, his hands crossed behind his back, twisting his gloves.” When Hitler finished, Stülpnagel turned on his heels and strode from the room without a word.26

  Outside he was informed that the commander in chief of Naval Group West, Admiral Theodor Krancke, was threatening to march on Paris with more than a thousand men to free the interned SS and SD troops. In addition, the Luftwaffe commander in Paris, General Friedrich-Karl Hanesse, had put his forces on alert. Then Stülpnagel’s chief of staff, Colonel Hans-Ottfried von Linstow, reported that Stauffenberg had called earlier in the evening to say that all was lost and that his killers were already prowling the hall outside his office. But still Stülpnagel did not give up. Even when notified that Kluge had put through his dismissal as military commander and that General Blumentritt was on his way to relieve him, he carefully considered his next move and even discussed with Hofacker and Finckh the possibility of forcing Kluge’s hand by taking the decisive and irreversible step of executing the SS commanders. In the end, though, Stülpnagel abandoned all hope and gave the order to release the prisoners. “Providence,” he said, “has decided against us.”27

  With the release of the SS commanders, a very delicate and dangerous situation arose. It was handled with aplomb, however, by the reliable Hans von Boineburg. A small, bald man with a hoarse voice and a monocle, Boineburg proved that night that he was far more than the mere caricature of a German soldier whose persona he liked to affect, albeit somewhat ironically. He set out resolutely for the rue de Castiglione, where Oberg and Knochen were being held prisoner in a suite at the Hôtel Continental. In his charmingly blunt manner he announced that they were now free to go and delivered to the outraged Oberg an invitation from Stülpnagel to return to the Hôtel Raphael. Boineburg managed to mollify the SS commander to such an extent that he eventually agreed to come. Knochen, however, went back to his quarters.

  A bizarre scene then unfolded in the Salon Bleu of the Hôtel Raphael, as the conspirators and the executioners sat down together. Just minutes before, they had been deadly enemies, some planning the murder of the person next to them, others feeling stunned and vengeful, and all brimming with suspicion. In the halting conversation that ensued, each player was keenly aware that any misstep could easily spell the death of Stülpnagel, Boineburg, Hofacker, Linstow, and the other members of Stülpnagel’s staff on the one side or Am­bassador Otto Abetz and SS Obergruppenführer Oberg on the other, not to mention Knochen, Krancke, and Blumentritt, who joined the group somewhat later.

  Stülpnagel had ordered a round of champagne in an effort to create a relaxed, friendly atmosphere despite the heavy shadow cast by recent events. Abetz arrived first, in an angry mood, but he had grown much more conciliatory by the time Oberg appeared soon afterward. Still uncertain as to how to proceed, Oberg immediately declared that “investigations” would have to be conducted. But Abetz intervened, managing to persuade the still-furious SS commander to shake hands with his adversary. Abetz assured Oberg that Stülpnagel had been given contradictory orders, and gradually he led the conversation toward the conclusion that, in view of the approaching Allied forces and the mounting threat from the French underground, Germans had no choice but to stand together, shoulder to shoulder.

  Oberg, who of course suspected that Stülpnagel had known exactly what he was doing, was hardly deceived by the game that was being played. “So, Herr General,” Oberg said in response to Stülpnagel’s greeting, “you seem to have bet on the wrong horse.” Oberg also realized, however, that his own carelessness and imprudence would make him an object of scorn within the SS. He was therefore by no means immune to the attempts of the army commanders to paper over the entire affair. Thus, as the evening wore on, he grew more approachable, the conversation picked up, and an atmosphere of friendly camaraderie began to develop. Champagne flowed in great quantity, and by the time Blumentritt and his two aides arrived, those gathered, though still somewhat distrustful, seemed in remarkably good spirits-as if at “a party that was in full swing.”28

  On his way to the Raphael, the ever-resourceful Blumentritt had hinted that a certain “arrangement” might be arrived at-a sugges­tion that was eagerly seized on by Knochen. Now Knochen reintroduced it, cautiously testing the waters by tentatively describing his notion, then retreating, then stating it a little more clearly, and then backing off behind a fog of words. Eventually he and Oberg decided to step outside for a moment. Back in the Salon Bleu, Blumentritt finally came out with the proposal, which everyone present seemed to find convincing except Admiral Krancke, who suddenly erupted in a tirade about “Stülpnagel, treason, and perfidy.” For a moment the whole fabric of half-truths seemed about to fall apart, but then opin­ion rallied around Blumentritt’s story of “mistakes” and “false alarms.” Considerably relieved, the partygoers returned to their champagne, drinking toasts to one another and celebrating into the early hours of the morning. The author Ernst Jünger, who was on Stülpnagel’s staff, wrote of this day, “The big snake [Hitler] was in the bag, but then we let it out again.”29

  Stülpnagel presumably only participated in the game in an attempt to protect his staff, which had always gone along with Hofacker’s and his wishes. (In fact, a relatively large number of his officers did sur­vive the ensuing purge.) For himself, Stülpnagel realized, there was no hope-even though he did not yet know that he had already been betrayed to Keitel by Kluge, who brushed Blumentritt’s astonishment aside with the comment, “Things will now take their course.” Early in the morning orders arrived from Keitel: Stülpnagel was to return to Berlin at once. He look leave of his colleagues and set out by car. Near Verdun, where he had fought in the First World War, Stülpnagel had his driver drop him off and proceed ahead a little. With Mort-Homme Hill rising before him, he climbed down the em­bankment of the Meuse canal. The report of a pistol split the air. Stülpnagel’s two traveling companions hurried back and dragged his body out of the swirling waters. He was still alive, having succeeded only in blinding himself. Nursed back to health under constant guard, Stülpnagel was arraigned before the People’s Court on August 30. He refused to name any accomplices, and when Roland Freisler, the judge, asked specifically about Rommel and Kluge he answered tersely, “I will not discuss the field marshals!” Later that day the executioner led the blind man to the gallows.30

  * * *

  Many factors led to the failure of the July 20 plot. Among those most frequently mentioned is the “amateurism” of the leading conspira­tors, insufficient planning, blind trust in the chain of command, and poor coordination among the participants, which led to the bedlam that broke out at army headquarters. As Admiral Canaris observed, not without a certain cynicism, to an acquaintance he met on the street two days later, “That, my dear fellow, was not the way to go about it.”31

  In any event, many important aspects of the plan did indeed go awry, from the failure to establish the loyalty and presence of the Döberitz and
Krampnitz commanders to the defection of the task forces, which caused Colonel Jäger so much grief, to the absurd de­ception practiced on Major Jakob after he seized the broadcasting center on Masurenallee. Numerous other oversights and blunders- and simple human frailty-played a role as well, which is all the more surprising because the coup was planned and carried out by experi­enced officers of the general staff. The uprising lacked drive, but perhaps even more fatal was the fact that the staff officers who planned it did not have proven commanders at their disposal-resolute, careful officers experienced at overseeing troops and accustomed to bearing complete responsibility. Goebbels was amazed, for instance, to discover on the evening of July 20 that although the government quarter had been surrounded and two sentries posted in front of his apartment his telephone line had not been cut.32

  Nevertheless, it was not these obvious weaknesses that ultimately caused the uprising to fail. Strictly speaking, success or failure hinged on just two things: the assassination of Hitler and the interruption of all communications from the Wolf’s Lair. When the first of these conditions was not fulfilled, the second could not be maintained for long. One can hardly fault General Fellgiebel, who, astonished to see Hitler walk by him right after the explosion, made the fateful decision to call Berlin and pass along the news.

  But however damaging the “logistical” failure, it does not capture the essence of the problem. Far more decisive on July 20, as on so many other days, were deeply ingrained attitudes and behaviors that inhibited any kind of revolt. Although criticism of Hitler and his re­gime was widespread within the army, not a single officer who had not been privy in advance to the plans for the uprising decided to join the rebels on the spur of the moment. The radio broadcasts in the early evening proclaimed not only that Hitler had survived but, even more important, that “legal” authority remained in his hands. There­after, most officers almost instinctively dismissed the rebels as insur­gents or traitors.

  The enormous respect accorded “legality” greatly impeded the conspirators, stifling any questions as to why they were acting as they were. It was precisely in order to circumvent the army officers’ pro­found aversion to mutiny and broken oaths that the conspirators had planned to dress the coup up as a “legal” takeover. With the failure to assassinate Hitler, however, their reliance on legality was turned against them. This shift was clear in the initial reluctance and then the quite open defiance of the department heads on Bendlerstrasse, as well as in the passionate arguments that broke out in the Döberitz mess and prompted Colonel Wolfgang Müller to report that evening, “The troops cannot possibly be persuaded to fight against Hitler. They refuse to obey me against him.” Even among units that were deployed according to plan, a reference to “personal orders from the Führer” worked “like magic,” so that the troops turned around and headed smartly back to barracks.33 Thiele and Thüngen reacted the same way and, most critical of all, so did Kluge. After his telephone conversation with Stieff, he was totally impervious to all appeals or attempts at persuasion, despite his previous close affiliation with the rebels.

  It is here that the weakness of the Valkyrie plan-its reliance on orders being followed unquestioningly down the chain of command- clearly emerges. Even if the attack on Hitler had been successful, many generals with troops at their command would still have had to decide to obey the new government. A few examples suggest that this decision was far less certain than the conspirators imagined: on re­ceiving instructions from army headquarters in Berlin, the com­manders of military districts in Hamburg, Dresden, and Danzig immediately contacted their regional party commanders or local Ge­stapo officials for clarification. They may have been exceptions, but they illustrate the extent to which innumerable individual decisions would have had to go the right way in order for the rebels to pose a serious challenge to the logistical might of the established legal au­thorities. In his complex combination of contempt for the regime and submissiveness to it, indecision and legalism, Field Marshal Kluge illustrates better perhaps than any of his fellow officers the problem that would likely have doomed the coup even if the attack on Hitler had succeeded.

  As always in human history, only a small minority of men were willing to raise moral principle not only above the traditions with which they grew up but above life itself. When Henning von Tresckow discovered in the early hours of July 21 that the attack on Hitler had failed, he said to Schlabrendorff “in a totally calm, col­lected way” that he would now take his own life because he feared what would happen when he was pressured to reveal the names of his accomplices. The next morning, as he took his final leave of his friend and prepared to drive out past the German lines into no-man’s-land in order to end his life, he added another reason for his actions: “The whole world will vilify us now, but I am still totally convinced that we did the right thing. Hitler is the archenemy not only of Germany but of the world. When, in a few hours’ time, I go before God to account for what I have done and left undone, I know I will be able to justify in good conscience what I did in the struggle against Hitler. God promised Abraham that He would not destroy Sodom if just ten righteous men could be found in the city, and so I hope that for our sake God will not destroy Germany. None of us can bewail his own death; those who consented to join our circle put on the robe of Nessus. A human being’s moral integrity begins when he is prepared to sacrifice his life for his convictions.”34

  A far more typical example of human behavior, however, was the expedient set of actions taken by Kluge-though in his case it was writ particularly large. Late in the evening of July 20, shortly after dismissing Stülpnagel and Hofacker with a resounding “No!” he sent a telegram to Hitler expressing his devotion: “The attempt of villain­ous murderers to kill you, my Führer, has been foiled by the fortu­itous hand of fate.”35 Kluge knew full well that he still could not escape Hitler’s longstanding suspicions of him. Five days later, when the great Allied offensive in the West began with General Patton’s armored breakthrough in the area around St. Lô and Kluge could not be reached all day because he was directing the German troops from right behind the front, Hitler immediately suspected him of attempt­ing to negotiate a surrender. In any case, the Führer believed that kluge “knew about the assassination attempt,” as he remarked to Guderian. The reprimands and interference of a suspicious Führer soon culminated in Kluge’s being told where he should station him­self in battle. They continued with specific orders as to when to attack and where to hold the line-even though no troops were available for the maneuvers that were demanded. The ultimate humiliation came on August 17, after the fall of Falaise, when Field Marshal Walter Model suddenly appeared at Kluge’s headquarters and announced that he was the new commander in chief in the West. The letter from Hitler confirming Kluge’s dismissal ended with the ominous words “Field Marshal Kluge shall keep this office advised of where in Ger­many he intends to go.”36

  The “master of tactical improvisation,” as Kluge liked to be known, was forced into something he had always avoided: an irrevocable decision. He also had an opportunity to soften, at least for posterity, the memory of his indecisiveness, his pathetic “Children, I’m yours!” outburst, his constant evasion of and faithlessness toward Beck, Tresckow, Rommel, and Stülpnagel. Once again, however, he failed to take a stand, even though he had already resolved to put an end to fear and anxiety. He remained his guarded self in a farewell letter to Hitler and, while he did call for peace, he also wrote of the Führer’s “grandeur” and “genius” and concluded by writing, “I take leave of you, my Führer-to whom I have always stood closer than you per­haps realize-in the firm conviction that I did my duty to the absolute best of my ability.”37 Kluge then set out on the road back to Germany. Near the place where Stülpnagel had tried to end his life, Kluge ordered his car to stop and swallowed poison.

  As it happened, only days before, Rudolph-Christoph von Gersdorff had visited Kluge, like a ghost from the past, and attempted to persuade him to negotiate with the
Allies, withdraw his troops to Germany’s prewar borders and, with the help of a few reliable units, try to overthrow the Nazi regime. “If that should fail, Gersdorff,” the commander retorted, “Field Marshal Kluge will go down as the big­gest swine in world history.” Gersdorff continued to press, arguing that “every great man in world history” has faced a decision that would cause him to be remembered either as a criminal or as “a savior in times of dire need.” Kluge simply laid his hand on the colonel’s shoulder and remarked, “Gersdorff, Field Marshal Kluge is no great man.”38

  10. PERSECUTION AND JUDGMENT

  By the night of July 20, widespread manhunts were already under way. Besides those arrested on Bendlerstrasse, anyone who had had personal or professional dealings with the known conspirators or who had attracted the earlier attention of the security authorities was investigated. Around midnight Helmuth Stieff was taken into custody at headquarters. At about that time Erich Fellgiebel was engaged in a lofty philosophical debate with his adjutant, First Lieutenant Hellmuth Arntz, about the afterlife, which Fellgiebel did not believe in. When the long-awaited call came he replied simply, “I’m on my way.” Arntz asked if he had his pistol, but Fellgiebel said, “One doesn’t do that. One takes a stand.”1

  The next day SS Obersturmbannführer Georg Kiessel was appointed head of a special board of inquiry, which soon numbered four hundred people. Hitler held a briefing to announce guidelines for the judicial proceedings against those involved in the failed coup. Denouncing the conspirators as “the basest creatures that ever wore the soldier’s tunic, this riff-raff from a dead past,” he declared: “This time I’ll fix them. There will be no honorable bullet for… these criminals, they’ll hang like common traitors! We’ll have a court of honor expel them from the service; then they can be tried as civilians…. The sentences will be carried out within two hours! They must hang at once, without any show of mercy! And the most important thing is that they’re given no time for any long speeches. But Freisler will lake care of all that. He’s our Vishinsky.”2