“The Jews?”
Adolf gave Hans an incredulous look. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know those people were Jews.”
“What people?”
“Ebert, Scheidemann, Liebknecht, Rosa Luxemburg, Eisner, Levine. All of them are Jews.”
“I didn’t know that.” Hans went on quickly. “So how are things working out in that new assignment of yours? What was it again? Press and News Bureau?”
“Wonderful! In fact, I have already changed jobs again.”
“So soon?”
“Yes. I told you about the ‘political instruction’ the army’s doing now to get the soldiers properly oriented.” When Hans nodded he rushed on. “Well, in one of those classes, the teacher said something about not all Jews being bad—that some did good. I was so incensed at such muddled thinking that I stood up and set the record straight.” There was a wolfish grin. “Two days later I was called in by my commanding officer. I thought I was in trouble. But he was so impressed with what I’d done that he made me a Bildungsoffizier and assigned me to a new regiment.”
“A what?”
“An educational officer. Our main task is to combat the dangerous ideas of socialism, pacifism, and democracy.” He clenched his fist and thumped the desk. “Remember how I told you that it is my strong belief that the way to change the world is to go into politics?”
“I do.”
“Well, what is one of the most important prerequisites of a politician?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “His oratorical skills. How can you influence people without speaking to them? The spoken word is much more powerful than the written word. But after I was gassed near the end of the war, I was afraid that my throat had been permanently damaged and that I would never be an effective speaker. But I was wrong. In teaching these classes, I have discovered myself to be an excellent orator, with sufficient energy to make myself heard even in large rooms.”
Trying not to smile at Hitler’s high opinion of himself, Hans nodded. “Wonderful, Adolf.”
“I know. I am immensely pleased with myself.” Then he abruptly changed the subject. “I must go. I have a class. And you are late too. But there is one more piece of good news.”
“What is that?”
“In my new position I have some influence in the army now. So I looked into your situation.”
Startled, Hans leaned forward. “What situation?”
“About the shameless way they handled your severance pay.”
“What? You talked to them about that?”
He grinned that grin that was meant to be a smile. “I pointed out to the army that the money the government had saved by not paying men their severance pay had been spent paying Freikorps men to save them from their own mess. So why not pay you your severance and keep you in the army where you are now?”
“But I’m not in the army now. I quit today. They’ll never pay me that.”
“Ha!” Adolf cried, jumping to his feet and whipping an envelope from his pocket. He slapped it on the desk in front of Hans. When Hans just stared, he barked, “Open it!”
Hans got the letter opener and slit open the envelope. There was one sheet folded in thirds, some kind of an official form. As he unfolded it, another smaller paper fell out. Hans glanced at it and then jerked forward. He snatched it up and gaped at it.
It was a check from the Ministry of War, made out to Hans Otto Eckhardt for three thousand marks.
“But . . .” Hans was speechless.
Hitler laughed. “You were in the army on the day they wrote the check, weren’t you?”
4:39 p.m.—Oberammergau Railway Station, Bavaria
Hans was barely off the train before he heard a shout, saw a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye and dropped his duffel bag just in time to catch Emilee as she hurled herself into his arms. She grabbed his head with both hands and pulled him down for a very long and hard kiss.
When she finally let him go and stepped back, she was a little breathless, and so was he. He gave her a perplexed look. “Excuse me, Frau, but do I know you?”
She slugged him hard and went up and kissed him again. This time he fully cooperated.
As they stood there, clinging to each other, a man in Lederhosen slapped Hans on the back. “Good job in Munich, soldier,” he said. Others were smiling at him as they passed. By now he wasn’t too surprised. At the Munich train station he had been overwhelmed by the number of people who had stopped him. It was quite heartwarming, actually.
Slipping one arm around Emilee, Hans picked up his duffel bag, and they moved out of the way of the other disembarking passengers. Hans looked around. “Where’s everyone else?”
Emilee laughed softly, blushing slightly as she did so. “You know your father. Your mother wanted to have a big dinner at the farm, but he said no, a day like today deserves something special. So they’re all waiting at the Bright Star Restaurant.”
He squeezed her. “Good. I’m glad we’re alone. I have some wonderful news to tell you.”
“Oh? And I have—”
Hans reached inside his tunic and withdrew the check. He held it up in front of Emilee’s face. She reared back for a moment and then turned and stared at him. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes. I got my severance pay.”
“But how?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you at the restaurant.”
“That’s wonderful, Hans. I’m stunned, actually.” Then she sobered. “I think we need to pay off that loan your father gave us.”
“I knew you would say that.” He kissed her again. “I already decided the same thing. But could we wait until tomorrow? Enjoy having almost six thousand marks in the bank for a few hours?”
Emilee laughed merrily, feeling almost as giddy as Hans did. “That’s really wonderful, Hans. I mean that. This is great news.”
“I know. I can still scarcely believe it.”
She took his hand and squeezed it. “Hans?”
“Yes, dear?”
He nodded as a woman thanked him as she walked by.
She jerked on his hand. “Hans!”
He finally looked at her. “What?”
She guided his hand down to rest on her belly. “I have some good news for you, too.”
Chapter Notes
As is often the case in times of chaos, estimated figures of casualties in the 1919 Munich Uprising vary from source to source. Most agree that over a thousand of the revolutionaries were killed. Often that was by extremist Freikorps units that took their captives out and had them summarily shot. I couldn’t find figures of the government losses, so the numbers here are an estimate. The same is true of the civilian deaths.
Shirer tells us that somewhere in the spring or summer of 1919, Hitler spoke up when one of the teachers in his “political course” spoke positively of the Jews. His anti-Semitic diatribe brought him to the attention of authorities and led to his promotion (see Rise and Fall, 35).
Hitler’s anti-Semitism was pretty virulent by this point in his life. He did believe that all or most of the political leaders were Jewish. While that is not completely true, a surprising number were. Part of this can be accounted for by the great emphasis that Jewish families, then and now, give to education. Because of that, there were many prominent people in Germany in the fields of finance, commerce, manufacturing, education, and government who were of Jewish descent.
June 2, 1919, 3:45 p.m.—EDW Ranch, Monticello, San Juan County, Utah
“Mitch?”
“I’m in here. In the tack room.” Edie started toward it.
The tack room occupied the northwest corner of the barn. When she reached the door, she saw Mitch bent over a saddle, which was on a sawhorse. He had on a leather apron and held a can of neatsfoot oil in one hand and a large oily rag in the other. The saddle, one of her old ones, was glistening as though it were wet. Then Edie gave a low cry. On the other side of the saddle, each twin held a smaller rag and was also rubbing down the saddle. “Mi
tch!”
“What?”
“They’ll have oil all over their clothes.”
Abby immediately protested. “Uh-uh, Mama. I be careful.”
Benji just looked up and grinned. The front of his shirt already had dark splotches on it.
Mitch frowned and growled at his son. “Uh-oh. Vati is in grossen trouble.”
Benji clapped a hand over his mouth and started to giggle. .
“No, Benji, Vati is not in big trouble,” Edie sighed. “He’s just going to sleep in the barn tonight.” She gave Benji an affectionate swat on the bottom. “You two go on up to the house. Change your shirt, Benji. Daddy and I will be up in a minute.”
She waited until they raced away and then reached in her apron pocket and pulled out a letter, waving it in front of his face. “This just came in the mail.”
Mitch shook his head. “My hands are a mess. Take it inside, and I’ll come in when I’m done.”
“Whatever you say.” She put it back in her apron.
Something in the way she said it made Mitch peer more closely at her. “Who’s it from?”
“Never mind,” she sniffed. “No big hurry.”
He wiped his oily hands on his leather apron and then held one out to her. “All right. Who is it from? You look like the cat who just swallowed the canary.”
“It’s from Salt Lake City.”
He stiffened. “Box B?” He started wiping his hands on his apron more earnestly. Box B almost always meant it was a mission call.
Another sweet smile. “Oh, no. Nothing like that.”
“Then who?”
“The return address is 47 East South Temple Street. Isn’t that the First Presidency’s office?”
Mitch’s eyes widened. He took a step closer, still holding out his hand. “Let me see it.”
Edie held it away from him. “You can’t touch it,” she said. “You’ll ruin it.”
“Then you open it.”
“That’s more like it,” she said. She slowly and deliberately tore off one end and extracted two sheets of paper. Laying the envelope on another sawhorse, she unfolded the letter and turned so she caught the light from the south window. “Oh,” she said in surprise.
“Edie! Don’t you read it first!”
“It’s not signed by the First Presidency, Mitch. It’s from Brother LeRoy Mangelsen, the one who called you before.” She spread it out on the sawhorse. “Here. Now we can read it together.” Mitch moved over beside Edie, where he could read it with her.
47 E. South Temple Street
Salt Lake City, UT
May 29, 1919
Dear Brother Westland,
Greetings. I hope this letter finds all well with you and your family. The First Presidency has asked that I convey their best wishes to you as well.
I am writing this letter at the request of the First Presidency concerning the “special project” the Church is undertaking in behalf of the suffering Saints in Germany.
Mitch nudged Edie. “I told you it wasn’t going to be a mission call.”
She nodded. “And thank heavens for that.” They continued reading.
For several years now, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has encouraged its members here in America to reach out and bless their fellow brothers and sisters in war-torn Europe. The First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve are deeply gratified with the response that has come in answer to this request.
However, our members in Europe, particularly in Germany, are still in desperate circumstances. Therefore the Church is undertaking a special initiative to assist these members in every way possible. Through the office of Senator Reed Smoot, we have learned that there are large quantities of surplus US government commodities that were sent over to support our troops during the war but never used. These are mostly food commodities, but there is some clothing and fuel. All of this is sitting in rail cars in France and Germany.
Working through Senator Smoot’s office, the Church is petitioning President Woodrow Wilson for permission to buy many if not all of those commodities and distribute them among our needy members in Europe.
Mitch and Edie stopped and looked at each other in wonder but then continued.
We are hopeful that our negotiations will be successful. In the meantime, the First Presidency has asked Senator Smoot to petition the Swiss and German governments to grant Angus J. Cannon, president of the Swiss-German Mission, permission to enter Germany as soon as possible. His purpose will be to visit as many branches and districts of the Church as possible to ascertain firsthand how the Saints are doing, what their most critical needs are, and how we can best assist them.
Senator Smoot will also be asking those governments to grant visas to you and Brother Jacob Reissner so that you can travel with him on that assignment.
“Oh my word,” Edie breathed.
Mitch didn’t read quite as fast as she did and hadn’t gotten that far yet. When he did, he gasped aloud. “So that’s it!”
Staring at him with eyes wide, Edie just shook her head in disbelief.
As you might imagine, this is a delicate situation for the Church and the US government. Though your trip is being sponsored by the Church, you will not be official representatives of the Church. You will be going as “Special Humanitarian Emissaries” of our government. You are formally being sent by Washington to negotiate the purchase of US Army commodities in Europe for distribution to Church members in Germany. This distinction is important. Our hope is that the German government will make an exception because we are bringing help to their people. Therefore, while on this assignment, you will be strictly prohibited from doing any proselyting. This is why you did not receive a letter from the First Presidency making this an official Church calling. It is an assignment created to facilitate cooperation between the Church and the US government.
You and Brother Reissner have been chosen for this assignment because you both have high proficiency in the German language; you are both married men with families, which would be expected of emissaries of our government; and you both have German stock in your ancestry. Our hope is that these qualities will convince the German government that you are qualified emissaries on a humanitarian mission.
Our plan is to have you depart from Salt Lake City no later than June 20th. You should plan on being gone for as long as six months. All travel costs will be covered by the Church, but you should bring sufficient funds to cover your personal needs.
You and your wife, along with the Reissners, are invited to an orientation and training meeting on Monday, June 17th, beginning at 9:00 a.m. in the Church Administration Building at the address above.
Please know that you go with our hope and prayers, especially the prayers of our brothers and sisters in Germany. God bless you in this significant and sacred effort.
Sincerely,
LeRoy W. Mangelsen
Edie and Mitch stared at each other for a long moment and then read the letter again, very slowly. When they finished, Edie folded it up and returned it to its envelope. Then she looked up at her husband, her eyes swimming. But she was smiling through the tears. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’m . . . Yes. I’m stunned, of course, but yes. I’m thrilled. What an opportunity.”
“To take trainloads of food to those people? That will be a miracle.”
“And what about you? Are you all right?”
“I’m wonderful, Mitch. Absolutely wonderful.”
Chapter Notes
Both Scharffs and Anderson talk briefly about the efforts of the Church to purchase surplus supplies from the US government. I could not find much detail of how these negotiations were actually carried out. It is known that Reed Smoot, who was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve when he was elected to the Senate in 1903, played an instrumental role in negotiating the purchase of war surplus commodities from the US government. We also know that he used his influence from time to time to get visas for our mission presidents and missionaries.
Having worked in the Church Office Building for twenty-five years, I know that when the First Presidency or the Twelve initiate a major project, a large number of resources are marshaled to make it actually happen. These often include paid staff and volunteers in addition to General Authorities.
President Cannon did seek permission to travel through Germany to assess the condition of the Saints. The idea of “Special Humanitarian Emissaries” recruited by a paid staff member in the Office of the First Presidency is, however, my own fictional creation.
June 21, 1919, 5:00 p.m.—Church Administration Building, South Temple Street, Salt Lake City, Utah
The room was small, hardly qualifying as a conference room, though that was what it said on the door. There were only five people present: Mitch and Edie Westland, Jacob and Adelia Reissner, and Brother LeRoy W. Mangelsen.
As Elder Reissner concluded the opening prayer and sat down by his wife, Brother Mangelsen got slowly to his feet and came to the front. For a long moment he stood there, his eyes searching theirs, and then he began to speak. His voice was soft, and he spoke slowly and thoughtfully.
“Brothers and sisters, before I formally begin, let me just say that I checked in at the office after our last session, and there has still been no word from Germany on visas, and no word from our government, either. So we still don’t know when you’ll be leaving.”
He took a quick breath. “Okay, with that said, let us proceed. We have now come to the end of our training experience together. Thank you so much for making time to be here. I hope it has been significant enough to warrant the time it has taken you away from your families.”
Edie tentatively raised a hand. He nodded at her. “Yes, Sister Westland?”
“I just wanted to thank you and the First Presidency for letting me and Adelia—Sister Reissner—be here with our husbands for this experience.” She had to swallow quickly before she could go on. “In the weeks and months to come, while my husband is away, it will mean so much to me and my family to have such of clear picture of what they will be doing, and, more importantly, why they will be doing it. I have already asked Mitch—Brother Westland—if he will share that vision with our children, if that is permissible.”
Fire and Steel, Volume 2 Page 55