The Valkyrie Option

by Markus Reichardt

  Amid the first cries of pain erupting around him, he found himself lying on the floor. He could feel his hair and clothes smouldering. Amid the choking fumes, dishevelled figures began groping though the wreckage, faces covered in dust and smoke, contorted by screams of pain he could no longer hear. He attempted to raise himself but the right side would not support him. Crumbled on the floor he felt blood oozing from his legs and out of his ears.

  'Führer? Mein Führer? ' It was Keitel, his uniform badly singed and bleeding profusely from some leg wound. Hitler sensed more than heard the formidable frame shake itself free from some of the debris and advance towards him.

  'Führer? Führer! You are alive!' The wounded giant, lackey to the last, slumped to his knees next to Hitler. He reached out tried to steady himself to lift his master and carry him to safety but his legs failed. He slipped forward, his face crashing hard against a sharp corner of wooden debris. Blood poured from the new gash. 'Führer .. ' He blacked out.

  Hitler tried again to raise himself but now it was his legs that would not co-operate. Around him charred map fragments wafted downwards in the smoke; smoke that came from burning wood. He had to move, move or face a fiery death. With supreme willpower Hitler forced his protesting body into an upright position and tried the lever himself up against the wall. Around him guards began converging. He had to show strength. He had survived worse in the trenches in France. It was then that he caught site of his smouldering trousers.

  Dozens of oak splinters had penetrated his legs making him look like a porcupine. Blood was seeping from more than ten wounds. As he tried again to steady himself against the wreckage around him a sharp pain shot through his body. It was like daggers in his stomach and innards. For a few seconds Adolf Hitler's mind battled his body for control before the latter won and he slipped into darkness.

  Werner von Haeften had been sitting in the requisitioned car with the engine running for nearly three minutes when he heard the explosion. A minute later Stauffenberg appeared from behind the Communications Room. Within seconds he was in the car 'Go, GO! ' he commanded the driver 'to the airfield on the double.'

  Werner glanced at his boss a questioning look on his face. Stauffenberg nodded back confidently, the tension was gradually seeping from his body but it wasn't over yet. They had to get out of the security perimeter before the general alarm was sounded and all exits were sealed. Without his presence in Berlin, things might still go wrong. Neither Himmler nor Göring had been at the briefing so there was still a very realistic chance of Nazi retaliation.

  Heading towards the exit of the inner zone, they passed within sight of the shattered briefing room. The building had been completely destroyed, only one corner still teetered upright, vainly supporting a spiky fragment of roof and dangling bits of plywood. Amid the smoke rising from the burning wreckage and dust, figures stumbled about, some of them supporting each other. Others were trying to reach the centre of the devastation. Glass and wooden rubble covered the grass for some distance; shreds of paper, some burning, floated through the tepid air.

  Stauffenberg leaned over and squinted into the smoke and haze. There! Two, no three figures were carrying a limp body, a body wearing a brown uniform. The Colonel did a quick memory check. There had been no Party members at the briefing. Only Hitler had worn his traditional brown party jacket. It could be no-one else. One of the field grey figures carrying the Führer stumbled and fell. The body fell with it. Amid fitful flickers of flaming wreckage and drifting dust Stauffenberg lost sight of the group.

  They reached the first checkpoint where the sentry, who knew Stauffenberg waived him through after some quick words about the need to catch the flight to Berlin. von Haeften smiled. The natural tendency to obey a superior officer, so deeply ingrained in the German Army since Frederick the Great was working in their favour. They would make it.

  Finally klaxons began braying and the Wolf's Lair roused itself from its former heat-induced stupor into a hornets nest of frenzied, albeit initially uncoordinated activity. A full security alert was being raised, guards were rushing about but as yet there was no purpose, no clarity on what had actually transpired.

  By the time they reached the outer barrier, things had changed. A stern and determined SS NCO held his ground and kept the barrier down. Stauffenberg rose to a role that would have earned awards in Hollywood. 'What is your problem man.' He snapped at the man in his best parade-ground voice ' Do you not recognize me and my authority. I have urgent business in Berlin. There is an airplane waiting for me. The Führer will not be pleased if you make me miss that plane. I am in charge of organising the replacement Volksgrenadier Divisions for the eastern front.' And with a menacing tone he added. 'Perhaps you would care to join them.'

  The NCO was unhappy but clearly unwilling to depart from his standing orders. 'No-one, Herr Oberst, is to leave the compound after a general alarm is sounded. I cannot let you pass.'

  Stauffenberg did some quick thinking. 'Will a direct order from your commanding officer solve this problem?' Before the NCO could answer he was out of the car and into the guardhouse. With his three fingered hand he snatched the phone. 'Get me the Kommandant! Now! This is Oberst von Stauffenberg, Chief of Staff of the Replacement Army.' Within seconds he had the adjutant of the Compound Commander. 'Without giving the man a second to reply he barked. "Oberst von Stauffenberg speaking, I am at the outer checkpoint south right now. You will remember we had breakfast while waiting for my presentation to the Führer on the replacement Volksgrenadier divisions. I am now on my way to urgent business in Berlin and because of some explosion the guard refuses to let me pass. 'Without waiting for a reply he put down the receiver and glared at the Sergeant. 'Happy now?'

  The black uniform stood his ground. "I am sorry Herr Oberst but I need to receive those countermanding orders in person.' He entered the guardhouse and got the aide on the phone once more. The aide, confident that Stauffenberg had been on the move long before the explosion had happened gave him the all clear. He had more important things to worry about in a compound that was rapidly degenerating into a nest of angry wasps.

  'You may go. Herr Oberst. 'The NCO shrugged 'You are cleared. A curt nod from Stauffenberg was all he got in return. The barrier was raised and the car sped towards the landing strip. Twelve minutes later the twin engine Heinkel 111 was airborne.

  Martin Bormann was one of those that initially paid the explosion no attention. Sitting in his office at the Wolf's Lair three hundred meters away from where the Führer was receiving his daily briefing, the Reichsleiter, the Nazi Party's chief executive was studying a draft of a directive he intended issuing to the provincial party leaders the next day. Short, squat and with peasant features that suggested he would never stand out from a crowd, Martin Bormann was the second-most powerful man in the Reich. Apart from Keitel who got to decide which military matters reached the Führer, Bormann was master over all non-military access to Hitler. He controlled the non-military directives that left Hitler's desk.

  A bull-necked, street-fighting thug who had risen in the party secretariat due to his early record as a ruthless brawler, capable administrator and a fair amount of luck, Bormann's senses were fine enough to separate the sound of the explosion of Stauffenberg's bombs from that of the accidental mine explosions that occasionally rocked the brooding Wolf's Lair. After a few second's consideration he was on his feet. If there was any danger to his master, it was his duty to be among the first to know; to be among the first to act to protect the party.

  Despite his squat frame, he covered the distance to the Führer's briefing barrack in less than a minute arriving just in time to see a number of men in uniform dragging his master from the smouldering ruins.

  Reichsmarschall Herman Göring also heard Stauffenberg's bomb go off. With his considerable physical bulk and nervous disposition heightened by a drug addiction, he was these days easily rattled. The titular commander of the Luftwaffe, was at that moment grumpily arguing with a senior Luftwaffe staff
officer over the reasons why the German air force remained unable to use its few long range bombers to strike at the Soviet armaments industries behind the Urals. In the heat of their argument neither man paid the sound much attention until Hitler's adjutant rang a few minutes later.[23]

  A whole range of emotions flooded through the former fighter ace as he heard the news. He had been out of favour for months, mainly due to his fighters inability to prevent the almost daily bombing runs by allied bomber units against German cities as well as the Luftwaffe's gallant absence over the invasion front in France. Having been sidelined from his position as Head of the War Economy by Armaments Minister Albert Speer, Göring had retreated into his drug-enhanced fantasy world, contenting himself with his priceless collection of looted European art and occasional forays into aircraft production strategy. Now it seemed, two of his staff officers had been in the barrack at the time and appeared to be badly injured. The Führer's adjutant had said that Hitler lived but was badly injured. If he died or was temporarily incapacitated, the line of succession was clear. Since 1933 Göring as Prime Minister of Prussia had de jure been the second man in the Reich, his authority only threatened by those who saw the needs of the party taking primacy over the needs of the Reich - Bormann and Himmler. Less agile than the squat Bormann, the bulky head of the Luftwaffe and constitutional successor to Adolf Hitler set off to determine the fate of his master.

  There is no need for us to discourage this process [of further disintegration of the nazi machine] by continually uttering the slogan “Unconditional Surrender”. As long as we do not have to commit ourselves to dealing with any particular new figure or new Government our advantage is clear. We certainly do not want, if we can help it, to get them all fused together in a solid desperate block for whom there is no hope. I am sure you will agree with me that a gradual break up in Germany must mean a weakening of their resistance, and consequently the saving of hundreds of thousands of British and American lives.

  Winston Churchill in a note to the Foreign Office

  14 August 1943

  July 20th 13:10

  Number 10 Downing Street Annexe

  London

  As usual, Winston Churchill had slept well past sunrise. In fact even after waking up, Britain’s Prime Minister had remained in bed working through his papers until nearly lunchtime. Today even his lunchtime bath, accompanied by diluted whisky and cigars as was often the case did not restore his vigour. Winston Churchill was feeling the weight of the war on his shoulders and the impact of that war on his countrymen. The night before – July 19th – had seen the heaviest bombardment of V-1 buzz bombs on London so far. Nearly 3 000 British civilians had died from these rockets. These were the kinds of casualties that the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth could ultimately not sustain.

  The country had been at war for nearly five years now, had survived the Battle of Britain, hosted the Governments of occupied Europe in their hour of need. British troops had held Rommel in Africa, Britain had been the launch pad for the invasion of Europe. The tide was turning but the strain was telling. How long would his people sustain this superhuman effort? Certainly not long if buzz bombs killed 3000 people a night every other night. There had to be alternatives, ways of ending the war before Britain had been bled to death.

  As he heaved his plump body out of the tub and wrapped his bathrobe around him the Prime Ministers thoughts went back to the horrors of the First World War, back then poison gas had been thought to be a war winning weapon until both sides had started using it, thus creating a new stalemate. Today both sides he knew possessed great stores of poison gas but had chosen not to use it. Maybe that needed to be looked at again. By the time he headed for his office in normal attire his assistant had taken down a memo asking for a detailed study on the possible use of poison gas against the German civilian population.

  July 20 13:15hours

  War Ministry, Bendlerstrasse

  Berlin

  General Friederich Olbricht, Deputy Commander of the Home Army picked up the phone on its first ring. This was the call he'd been waiting for.

  'General Olbricht ? Fellgiebel here. A bomb went off during the Führer's conference. There were deaths but Colonel Stauffenberg is on his way back to you as of this moment. As per standing order I will cut all lines immediately after this call. But I repeat there were many deaths.' The phone went dead. Olbricht had tried but the line and all others to Rastenburg had remained dead. The Wolfsschanze was totally off the air.

  Olbricht took a deep breath and stared out the window of his second-floor office. Outside, Berlin was enjoying a cloudless if slightly hot day. Olbricht walked to the window and stared onto the street with unseeing eyes. Upon receipt of Fellgiebel's call he was supposed to activate Valkyre- the military takeover of the Reich by the Wehrmacht. He did nothing. For over twenty minutes he stood alone, his mind a torrent of emotions. Of medium height with a round face dominated by thick glasses, and hair severely combed back from his forehead, General Olbricht prided himself on being a superb staff officer; but like Keitel whom he despised, he was a desk officer. Unlike Stauffenberg he was no leader of men. It was Stauffenberg who should be here, initiating this thing, not him. His mind flashed back to the premature start of the coup attempt five days previously when he and younger officers had prematurely set things in motion just as Stauffenberg had been forced to postpone the event. That day they had nearly been caught.

  Valkyre had been Olbricht's brainchild begun as a contingency plan against the eventuality of an uprising by the millions of foreign workers forcibly drafted into the Nazi war economy. The Home Army was not an active command, but the organization responsible for the mobilizing and training of recruits and recovered wounded who were sent as replacements to the different fronts. The only armed men of which it disposed were a number of second-line garrison units around Berlin and other German cities as well as the cadets of a number of military schools across the Reich. Against this internal threat the garrison troops and military cadets were to be used to secure all government buildings and other strategic installations. Of necessity it was defensive plan, ostensibly designed to protect the Reich's nerve centres and personalities until frontline troops could be brought in to restore order. As early as 1943 Olbricht had proposed using Valkyre to carry out a coup in the confusion which would follow Hitler's assassination but the opportunity had never arisen. When Stauffenberg had joined the Olbricht's staff he had recognized the potential of Valkyre and set about refining it. As a contingency plan it made sense and Stauffenberg was determined to use it; not to protect Hitler but to topple him.

  Fellgiebel's call had been planned but because of the possibility of being overheard the General had obviously not been able to communicate in the clear. Damn, we should have devised a codeword for a successful mission. 'There were many deaths.' That’s all fine and nice but was the Führer among them? Olbricht found himself torn. What would he have said in Fellgiebel's place? Initiating Valkyre prematurely might cost him his life. To delay initiating Valkyre might mean the coup's failure. Stauffenberg should be here, not me. Stauffenberg had been the driving force behind all the planning of the last few days anyway. But the Colonel was on a plane out of communications for at least two hours.

  What would he have said in Fellgiebel's stead? Many deaths? The fact that Stauffenberg was on his way back indicated that the mission had been a success. Had it been? Was Hitler really dead. Fellgiebel would have said something else it things had gone wrong. But what?

  A fellow conspirator, balding Colonel Mertz put his head through the door. ‘Any news?’ Olbricht motioned him inside. 'Fellgiebel phoned just now and spoke in code. I'm not sure what to make of it. ' He repeated Fellgiebel's message.

  'Its a go sir! Fellgiebel obviously had listeners but the message is clear. We are on. We must initiate Valkyre immediately!' Mertz was a close friend of Stauffenberg's and shared his burning desire for decisive action. He had been among the officers who had prematurely ini
tiated action on the 15th. He had been part of the conspiracy since before the war but lacking access to Hitler had never been able to take direct action himself. Now he firmly blazed with determination. He and more than a dozen fellow officers were in the Bendlerstrasse offices awaiting the word.

  Olbricht remained indecisive 'What makes you so sure? It would be better to wait for Stauffenberg.'

  Mertz drew himself up to his full height 'With all respect General, Colonel Stauffenberg would want us to act. We need to act while we have the chance.'

  'What if the Führer isn't dead?'

  Mertz, like Olbricht knew that Leber had been captured and that their time had run out. 'We need to act anyway. For us he has to be dead. General, we have to try or history will judge us harshly. I suggest you issue the order. Otherwise I will do so - with or without your permission. Shall I call the others, you know that they will argue like I do. We must act!'

  Olbricht cast a helpless glance towards the phone.

  'For Germany and our honour. General' the balding Mertz was on the brink of loosing control. Olbricht drew strength from his fellow-officer's decisiveness. 'Lets do it.'

  FROM OKW BERLIN TO COMMANDERS IN CHIEF ALL MILITARY DISTRICTS.

  THE FUHRER IS DEAD. AN UNSCRUPOLOUS CLIQUE OF PARTY LEADERS HAVE ATTEMPTED TO STAB OUR FORCES STRUGGLING AT THE FRONT IN THE BACK AND TAKE POWER FOR THEIR OWN SELFISH DESIGNS. MARTIAL LAW IS DECLARED. EXECUTIVE POWER EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY IS PLACED IN THE HANDS OF THE WEHRMACHT....

  July 20 13:25 hours

  Hitler’s Headquarters 'Wolfsschanze'