Fire and Steel, Volume 6

by Gerald N. Lund

  “Ja.” Hans chose his words carefully. “I know that with all the changes that have been taking place recently, Joseph Goebbels is my direct supervisor now, but Rudolf was my supervisor when I served the elections department. So I came to ask him for his advice on a personal matter. Heinrich just happened by while I was waiting.”

  “I see,” Adolf said. “And why did you not feel free to come to me as a friend?”

  “Mein Führer, you are the Reichschancellor. I cannot imagine how many things you have to deal with. You should not be troubled with my little concerns.”

  Hitler thought about that and nodded. “I appreciate that, Hans. And you are right. Even old friends can’t just walk in any time and expect to say hello.” He reached out and gripped Hans’s wrist, his fingers digging into the flesh. “But you saved my life, Hans. I wouldn’t be here in the Reichschancellery if it were not for you. So that’s why I told Heinrich that I would handle it, whatever it was. So tell me, my old friend, what can I do for you? How can I help you?”

  To his surprise, Hans felt his eyes start to burn, and he had to turn away.

  Adolf’s grip tightened. “Is there something you need to confess, Hans? Are you in financial trouble? Are you and Emilee having problems? I’m told that she is in America with your children for the summer. Is that what it is?”

  “Ah, nein, nein, mein Führer. Emilee and I are very happy together. But I have an aunt in America who had some medical problems, so Emilee and my mother went over to help her during her operation and recovery.”

  “Ah,” he said. “And how is she doing?”

  “The doctors say she is doing well. They will stay another month with her, then return in time for school.”

  “Did Emilee take all of the children?”

  “Nein. Only our daughter Jolanda and our son Hans Otto. The two little ones are with my sister down in Graswang.”

  “And your oldest daughter? Alisa, if I remember right?”

  “That’s right,” Hans said in genuine surprise. “Your memory is amazing.”

  “And she is in Hitler Youth, I believe.”

  “Ja, ja. That is why she couldn’t go. Her second year now.” Hans felt a rush of relief. Had Hitler had someone check, or had he just remembered? Either way, Hans was grateful to be able to answer truthfully. “She loves it. Thrives on it. She will be fourteen in November.”

  “A bright and beautiful girl, as I remember.” He sat back. “So, how may I be of help?”

  Bell the cat! The expression came into Hans’s mind again and he realized how appropriate it had become. This was the cat. He took a quick breath. Then came another thought. Don’t ask for anything. Just lay it all out. Ask only for his advice.

  “Well,” Hans began, speaking slowly, “as you know, my physical condition began deteriorating on that day I was shot there in the Odeonplatz. I was hit in the lower back, and the bullet, which broke into fragments, lodged up against my spinal column. The doctors told me that I was extremely lucky. Another sixteenth of an inch and I would have been paralyzed for life. That was the good news. The bad news was that it was so close to the spinal cord that they had to leave a couple of small fragments in.”

  “I thought your pain has always been in your hip, not your back.”

  “That’s correct. The fragments were pressed against a major nerve where my hip attaches to my spine.”

  “Ah.”

  “Anyway, it still bothers me, especially when I sit a lot, especially on hard seats.” Hans hesitated but then decided not to hold back. “The election cycles were particularly hard. Hours and hours on trains. Late nights. Sitting on hard benches or folding chairs in all the rallies I attended. And in most of these cases, I couldn’t get up and walk around to relieve the pain.”

  “Why did you never say anything about what we were doing to you?”

  “Because I learned to live with the pain. Plus, you and the other top leaders did have a few more pressing things on your mind.”

  Adolf grunted in acknowledgment. “And then you had your sledding accident.”

  “Yes. Down south at my family’s dairy farm. I took a jump much too fast and didn’t hit it straight on. I was thrown off the sleigh and came down hard on my bad hip. I knew I had really hurt myself because there was this tremendous flash of pain, then I blacked out. That was on a Saturday, so it was Monday before they got a team of orthopedic surgeons in to look at it. The positive side was that I had not further injured my hip, as I had feared. The downside was that I had cracked my tailbone.”

  “Which is extremely painful, I’m told.”

  “Worse than anything I had experienced with my hip,” Hans agreed. “It was pretty rough there at first. There’s not much they can do for that except to let it heal, which they said would take about twelve weeks.”

  “I see. But this was in January. Why was it April before someone asked me to approve you going on disability? Did it not heal right?”

  “A better way to say it would be that it wasn’t healing as fast as the doctors hoped. I had been on medical leave up to that point, but that’s when Rudolf suggested I be put on disability.”

  “But today, Rudolf told that me that you have been coming into the office for the last several weeks on a part-time basis, even though you are still on disability. That’s a good sign, no?”

  “Yes, in one way. No, in another.” They had come to the key point in the conversation, and Hans hesitated.

  “What is it, Hans?” Adolf said, picking up on his hesitancy immediately. “Tell me what you were going to say to Rudolf. Don’t feel like you have to hold back.” He glanced up at the clock. “But I do have others coming in shortly, so get to it.”

  Hans sighed. “I met with my doctor a few weeks ago. It was not good news. He said that since it’s been almost six months, it’s clear I am now dealing with what they call chronic back pain.”

  “And the treatment for that is?”

  “In a worst-case scenarios, major surgery. But usually they don’t do that until the pain has gone on for years.” Hans looked away. “A less invasive solution, which he strongly recommends, is to find ways to dramatically alter my lifestyle.”

  Adolf studied him for several long seconds. “Meaning a change of employment?”

  “Yes.”

  Adolf sat back, looking thoughtful now. “What would you like to do, Hans? Name it.”

  “Uh . . . I am deeply touched that you would say that, mein Führer. Deeply touched. But it’s not that simple.”

  Hitler frowned. “It is simple if I say it is simple. I mean it, Hans. What would you like to do? What can you do?”

  “That’s why I came up here to speak to Rudolf. I have thought about this for two weeks now, and here’s the problem, as I see it. The doctor says that what I need is employment where I do not have to sit for long periods of time, where I will not have to do extended travel, and where I have the flexibility to take several days off at a time to rest my back when necessary.”

  Adolf started to say something, but Hans quickly went on. “I know there are jobs where that can happen, but those are not jobs at the executive level where I am now, and with the salary I have now.”

  “Salary is another problem easily solved.”

  “I understand, and again I am deeply appreciative that you would say that, but I don’t want charity. I don’t want you to have to create a job just for me. I don’t want people saying, ‘Oh, there’s poor Hans Eckhardt, the cripple. How fortunate that he is a personal friend of the Führer.’”

  To Hans’s surprise, Adolf didn’t object to that. “I understand. And I see how that could be a problem. So are you saying that you want to leave party employment?”

  “Nein. Actually, I don’t know what I want. If there does happen to be something in the party, that would be wonderful. But remember, I know the workings of the party at
this level pretty well, and I just don’t see it happening. I’m willing to take a salary cut, but the more I’ve looked into it, the more I’m wondering if the best solution might be to look elsewhere.” He took a deep breath. Here was the crux of it. “I came up here to talk to Rudolf and basically ask him one question.”

  “Which is?”

  “If I did look elsewhere, to find something that would work for me and not require a drastic cut for my family’s standard of living, would you or the party see that as a personal betrayal of your trust in me?”

  Adolf leaned forward, and what he said next greatly surprised Hans. “Thank you, Hans. Thank you, old friend.”

  Hans blinked. “For what?”

  “For asking. That says more about our friendship and your loyalty to the party than a thousand words.” He stood up. “Let me think about it. Maybe there is a place where we could use your talents without it being either charity or physical hardship on you.”

  “Danke schön.” Hans took a quick breath. “And in the meantime, do I have your permission to actively look for other employment?”

  “You don’t need my permission,” Adolf said.

  “All right then, do I have your blessing?”

  Hitler sat back. One hand came up and began to stroke his mustache as he considered the question. Then he nodded. “You don’t need my blessing either, Hans. But ja, you have it.” He started for the door but then stopped. “And thank you, Hans, for following protocol and not automatically assuming you could impose on our friendship by requesting an audience with me. I would have granted it, of course, but it says much about you, and why I value our friendship.”

  He walked to the door and opened it. Instantly footsteps could be heard in the hall, and two SS men were there. “Herr Eckhardt is ready to return to his hotel,” Adolf said. Then, to Hans, “Do you plan to return to Munich tomorrow?”

  “That was my hope.”

  “I’ll have my staff arrange for a ticket and call the hotel with the time.”

  With great solemnity, Hans straightened to attention, clicked his heels, lifted his arm, and cried, “Heil Hitler. Sieg Heil!” He lowered his arm. “Danke schön, Adolf. You are a true friend indeed.”

  Chapter Notes

  Heinrich Himmler and Reinhard Heydrich were two men of great influence in the Nazi Party, especially after Hitler became chancellor. They quickly rose in the ranks of government. In the five years following the Nazis’ control of government, Hitler managed to bring every state police force under the command of the SS, which Himmler commanded. Himmler was also given control over the growing system of concentration camps in the Third Reich. As war broke out in 1939, Hitler appointed Himmler as Reich Commissioner for the Strengthening of German Ethnic Stock. He is credited as being one of the masterminds of the mass killing of Jews.

  As Himmler’s longtime subordinate and closest aide, Reinhard Heydrich played an important role in German affairs through the 1930s. At a conference on January 20, 1942, in response to a request by Hitler himself, Heydrich presented the “Final Solution to the Jewish Question,” a detailed plan on how to launch a Europe-wide, mass extermination of the Jews (see United States Holocaust Museum website, “Reinhard Heydrich: In Depth”). The description of Heydrich’s personality comes from Devil’s Disciples, 306.

  July 14, 1933, 7:47 p.m.—Zeidner Home,

  Konradstrasse 73, Munich

  Guten Abend, Hans.”

  “Guten Abend, Richelle,” Hans said. They shook hands, and then he turned from their mother to Erika and Leyna. “And Guten Abend to you two lovely young ladies. I called America last night and talked to my family. Jo threatened my life if I didn’t tell you two how much she misses you both. And how anxious she is to return home and see you.” He chuckled. “I noted that she neglected to say anything like that to me.”

  “Oh,” Leyna said. “I miss her and Lisa so much.”

  “Me too,” Erika said. “When does Lisa finish Hitler Youth Camp?”

  “We will pick her up Saturday, August twenty-sixth, at noon.”

  “Another whole month,” she wailed. “I can’t wait.”

  “Tell you what,” Hans said. “They have visiting hours each Sunday at the camp, and I am going down to see Lisa this Sunday. If you have nothing else going on, I’d love to have your family drive down with me. Lisa would be ecstatic to see you all.”

  Richelle frowned. “Unfortunately, the dean of Alemann’s college has invited Alemann and me for dinner Sunday evening.”

  “No, Mutti,” Erika cried.

  “But you girls are not invited,” Richelle went on smoothly, “so that would be wonderful, Hans.”

  “Gut! I shall pick them up at eleven. Visiting hours start at one thirty.”

  Just then a deep voice boomed from across the hallway, and Alemann was there. “Hans! There you are. Welcome.”

  7:52 p.m.

  “So,” Hans said as they got settled in Alemann’s office, “when I called, Richelle said you are teaching a couple of classes now. I thought you had the summer term off this year.”

  “I did. Until one of my colleagues had to leave midway through the term.”

  Hans leaned forward. “For political reasons?”

  “No, no. His parents are farmers in a small village about an hour or so south of Dresden. They just learned that his father has terminal cancer. So he went up to help his mother and brother take care of things. Like most farmers, they’re struggling and deeply in debt. In this case, they have medical bills piling up too. They may have to sell the farm, which is a shame. It’s been in their family for generations. And speculators are only offering ten pennies on the mark.”

  Hans shook his head. “It’s a tough time. So, how are things in the field of education? Any more of your faculty being forced out lately?”

  “Not that I’ve heard,” Alemann said. “All the Jews, Slavs, and other ‘undesirables’ are long gone, and the rest of the academic community is now firmly behind the party dogma. Did you see that nine hundred and sixty university faculty members from across the country have signed an oath of loyalty to Hitler?”

  “I did. Which binds them to fully support and teach the National Socialist philosophy. I was a little surprised, actually. I thought more would stand their ground. Academic freedom and all that.”

  “No. Sad to say, many of my colleagues are delighted to see these ‘undesirables’ forced out, because now they can step in and take the more coveted positions.” A deep crease furrowed Alemann’s brow. “These are not published statistics, of course, but so far about ten percent of all university faculty members have been fired. Our students, who in general tend to accept the Nazi Party more readily than us old men, are secretly monitoring their faculty members and turning them in if they hear anything they believe is seditious. Which, of course, is defined as anything critical of the Nazi philosophy.”

  Hans was shocked. “Are you saying that you now have to be careful of what you say in your classes?”

  “Absolutely. The students will turn you in, and a few professors have been fired without having a chance to even defend themselves.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “That’s not all. Did you hear about the professor in Czechoslovakia? He was teaching in Berlin somewhere. When the government started pressuring the universities to Nazify their campuses, he publicly objected, citing academic freedom. He started receiving death threats, so he fled the country. Roehm’s storm troopers tracked him down and found him hiding in Czechoslovakia. They shot him in cold blood.”

  Hans gasped. “Just like that?” When Alemann nodded grimly, Hans added, “No wonder no one else is protesting.”

  “What’s happening to the university system—and the education system in general—is devastating.” Alemann got up and made sure his office door was shut all the way before he went on. “Our Reichschancellor is unques
tionably brilliant, but he is a high school dropout and is, by nature, strongly anti-intellectual. In fact, Hitler credits the intellectuals of our nation—especially Jewish and other ‘radical’ elements—for all of the disasters of the Versailles Treaty. Which is sad. Even a couple of years ago, German universities and other institutions of higher learning were some of the greatest centers of learning, scientific innovation, literary genius, and cultural excellence in the world. Now all of that is crumbling.” He snorted in disgust. “No, that is too kind of a word. It is being smashed, demolished, and shattered all around us. I’m hearing that these new Nazi colleges that Hitler is setting up all around the nation are churning out students who are in superb physical condition and thoroughly indoctrinated with Nazi ideology, but who haven’t mastered the most basic elements of math and science. German Army commanders are secretly complaining that their new officer candidates display an ‘inconceivable lack of the most elementary knowledge.’ That’s a quote.”

  “It’s that bad?” Hans asked, quite taken aback.

  “Or worse. You probably haven’t heard this, because your girls aren’t around, but this fall when they go back to the Bogenhausen Academy, every student will have all new textbooks, rewritten by Nazi ideologues. All public schools are now undergoing the same transition. But at the universities, it’s worse. Thanks in part to the numbers of university students who have come through the Hitler Youth movement, their political clout on campus is astonishing now. Add to that the fact that you have students in your classes who are secretly taking notes and sharing them with the ‘thought police’ and you begin to see what is happening.”

  Hans was shocked. “And how do you cope with all this, Alemann?” he asked.

  “I am very, very careful about what I say and how I say it. And, basically, I do not say much about current events. I keep my focus on history and philosophy.”

  “I had no idea,” Hans murmured.

  They fell silent for several minutes, each retreating to his own thoughts. Finally, Alemann looked up at Hans. “Tell me how things went in Berlin. I was surprised when Richelle said you had gone up there.”