Out of the Smoke

by Gerald N. Lund

  Emilee smiled. “And thus the undivided attention from our local party leader. I wonder if he thinks your father is an aide to Goebbels himself.”

  Lisa leaned back and whispered softly to her mother. “Do you know what Papa told me about Herr Dorfuss? He said he’s a toady, a sycophant who got his current position because his wife’s family owns three boot-making factories and they made significant contributions to the party in the last election.”

  Alemann was watching the two men closely. “I think our host is trying to convince Hans that we all should sit on the stand with him.”

  “Oh, I hope not,” Emilee said.

  As they watched, Hans kept shaking his head as the official implored him to reconsider. Lisa’s father had chosen to bring his crutches tonight, and he leaned heavily on them as he spoke. For the last couple of weeks he had mostly been using his cane, but worried that they might have to stand a long time—his explanation—he had brought his crutches. Lisa wondered if he had really brought them only to appear to be more handicapped than he actually was. A ploy to convince the party leader that he couldn’t get up and down the stand easily. She found the whole thing quite amusing.

  Sure enough, two minutes later, Lisa’s father and the Herr Dorfuss shook hands, and the lieutenant led Hans back to their group. “Herr Eckhardt,” the officer said, “if you will please follow me. We have chairs set up for your party near the pile of books up front.”

  8:23 p.m.

  “Near the front” was an understatement. The Brown Shirts had made a large circle around the pyre of books, which was in the center of the street, leaving about a fifty-foot space between the crowd and the books that were to be burned. But there the troopers had set up eight wooden chairs in two rows of four each and cordoned them off with stakes and golden cords.

  Hans thanked the officer and then suggested that the girls take the front chairs, with their parents behind them. Lisa kept her eyes focused straight ahead, but she was keenly aware of the envious and irritated looks coming at them from every direction.

  Once they were all seated, the lieutenant snapped to attention before Hans. “Herr Eckhardt, is there anything more I can do to assist you?”

  “No, Lieutenant. We are in your debt. Thank you.”

  He seemed pleased. “My pleasure, Herr Eckhardt. My men know who you are and they will be happy to help you in any way possible. Just let them know.”

  With that, he clicked his heels sharply, put his right hand in the air, and barked, “Heil Hitler.” As he hurried away, Hans leaned forward and spoke to the girls. “Let that be a lesson to you,” he said gruffly. “This is the kind of respect that I shall hereafter require from each of you.”

  “But we don’t have shiny boots to click, Herr Eckhardt,” Leyna said with a look of pure innocence.

  Though the others laughed, Richelle drew in a sharp breath. “Leyna!”

  But Hans was laughing too. “You’ll just have to do the best you can, Leyna.”

  Lisa, who was sitting directly in front of her father, reached back and took his hand. She lifted it and kissed the back of it. “I’m so proud of you, Papa.”

  Hans was surprised and touched. “Thank you, Liebchen.”

  9:23 p.m.

  Sundown was officially at 8:39 p.m. on this day, so the time for starting the rally was set at 8:30, but her father had told Lisa that the speeches would likely go until quarter past nine so that it would be full dark when the books were actually set on fire. At 8:40, Herr Dorfuss had gotten up and gone to the microphone. In a droning voice that scraped on Lisa’s nerve, he started through the long list of honored guests and dignitaries who were in attendance. Hans raised his hand and waved when his name was read out, but he did not stand up as the others had. Lisa got a savage satisfaction as she watched the faces of those who had previously been glaring at them now nodding and smiling at them.

  With that done, Dorfuss launched into his own speech, which was mostly a long diatribe of praise for the new regime in general and the Führer in particular. It took no more than two minutes for the crowd to totally lose interest. Soon people were carrying on conversations with one another without even bothering to lower her voices.

  By the time he had finished, a little after nine, the entire square was packed, and when Lisa stood up and peered toward the east, she could see that the crowds now spilled out far beyond the confines of Königsplatz. From where she was, it looked like Dienerstrasse was now totally closed off and filled with people too.

  Because the members of the student union at Ludwig Maximilian University had been the ones to assemble the book lists and then gather the books for the burning, they were given the privilege of opening up the festivities this evening. Lisa’s father had told them that the students were gathered in front of the New Town Hall down in Marienplatz, which was not quite a mile to the southeast of them. At nine o’clock sharp, or at least that was the plan, the students were to light their torches and march to King’s Plaza behind a small escort of storm troopers.

  Now it was almost 9:30 and there was still no sign of them. Lisa gave her father a questioning look. “Patience, Liebchen,” Hans smiled. “They’ll be coming.”

  Lisa was on the end, seated next to Erika. She nudged Erika with her elbow and leaned in close. “I heard that the president of the student union, who is going to speak to us, looks like a Greek god.”

  “He does,” Erika said. “I saw his picture in the paper. I could endure spending an evening dining and dancing with him.”

  “Ah-ha!” Lisa cried. “You’ve been daydreaming again. What did we say about that?”

  Erika’s face colored and she looked away. Her sister looked at her and laughed. “She was dreaming about him last night.”

  “Was not!” Erika said hotly.

  Richelle leaned forward. “All right, girls, that’s enough.”

  Just then a cry from the crowd went up and everyone started craning their necks and looking to the southeast. “What is it, Papa?” Leyna asked.

  Alemann leaned in closer to her. “Listen, Liebchen! What do you hear?”

  And as the silence in the square deepened, she did hear it. They all heard it. At first it sounded like the dull, far-away roar of the surf when you were close to the sea. Leaning out so she could see past the storm troopers who were now holding the crowds back, Lisa strained to see. There was nothing but more people. But then she heard the sound again. It was the tramp of feet and the voices of men singing.

  Someone behind her shouted, “There they come!”

  A great hush fell over the crowds as the tramping grew ever louder. A few moments later, the first figures came into view, waving huge Nazi flags on long poles. As Lisa peered at them, she saw that there were two rows of storm troopers marching at the front, with row after row of young men right behind them. Seeing that they were about to enter the plaza, the college boys threw back their heads and sang all the louder.

  Raise the flag! The ranks tightly closed!

  The S.A. marches with calm, steady solid step.

  Comrades shot dead by the Red Front and Reactionaries

  March in spirit within our ranks.

  Clear the streets for the brown battalions,

  Clear the streets for the Storm Division Troopers.

  Millions are looking to the swastika full of hope;

  The day of freedom and of bread dawns!

  Lisa recognized the song instantly, of course. It was the Horst Wessel song. This was the song of the Sturmabteilung. It had long been considered to also be the anthem of the Nazi Party. And now that Hitler was Chancellor, many spoke of it as their second national anthem, along with “Deutschland uber Alles.”

  As they entered the plaza, the storm troopers holding the crowds back joined as well.

  For the last time, the call to arms is sounded!

  For the fight, we all
stand prepared!

  Already Hitler’s banners fly over all the streets.

  The time of bondage will last but a little while now.

  The King’s Square was no longer in darkness. The flickering flames of the torches were lighting up everything around them. The music was a roar of sound that sent shivers down Lisa’s back. All around her, the crowd had produced miniature flags with black swastikas. Young and old, they held up their flags and waved them as they joined in with song too.

  Lisa felt a hard nudge her to her ribs. “Your flag,” her mother hissed. “Now!”

  She looked over at her father, who was glowering at her as well. They both were holding small flags. Quickly, she reached into her schoolbag, found her flag, and began to wave it back and forth along with Jo, Leyna, and Erika.

  The front of the column had reached the circle of storm troopers and came to a stop just as their song ended. A mighty roar of approval went up from the crowd. Suddenly, dozens of women and girls broke through the circle of troopers. They were carrying bouquets and garlands, which they draped around the necks of the young men as they began smothering them with kisses. At that instant, Lisa wanted to be one of them. The urge was so powerful it took her breath away. Then she saw that one of the young men was smiling at her and motioning for her to come too. He had jet black hair and the largest, most beautiful brown eyes that she had ever seen.

  Then she felt a hand on her arm. She turned. Erika was staring at her, almost frightened by what she was seeing in Lisa’s eyes. And that brought Lisa back to earth with a jolt.

  Chapter Notes

  The King’s Square (Königsplatz) was the site of the book burning in Munich on May 10, 1933. The students from the university were given a major role in the event as a reward for their efforts in gathering up the books. We know they formed a torchlight parade but are not told what the route was. So the more specific details found in this chapter are suppositions based on what few details we do have.

  Horst Wessel was a Sturmführer, or “Storm Leader,” in a local unit of the S.A. in Berlin who often engaged in open combat with Communists in his area. He was shot by two members of the Communist Party in January 1930 and died a short time later of blood poisoning. He had composed several pieces of military music for his unit. The Horst-Wessel Lied, or “song,” was the most popular of those. After his death, the Nazi Party leaders turned Wessel into a martyr for the cause, and his song became the theme song of the Sturmabteilung, and then later the Nazi Party in general. When Hitler came to power, many actually did think of it as their second national anthem. Since the end of World War II, the German government has completely banned the song.

  May 10, 1933, 9:38 p.m.—Königsplatz, Munich

  The crowd quickly quieted when Dorfuss went to the microphone and announced that the next speaker would be the president of the student union at Ludwig Maximillian University. As the young man strode to the podium, Lisa leaned in closer to Erika. “You’re right,” she whispered. “He does look like a Greek god.”

  Erika smiled sweetly. “Sorry, he’s already spoken for.”

  “By you?”

  “Of course by me. I saw him first. Or at least his picture.”

  Richelle leaned up and poked them both. When they turned, she put a finger to her lips. “Shhh!”

  But it didn’t take long for Erika’s ardor to cool. The young man’s name was Hugo von Schulenberg, and he proceeded to explain in detail that he was the oldest son of one of Munich’s wealthiest and most prominent families, whose lineage tied back into the royal house of Wittelsbach. With that key piece of information firmly established, he proceeded to describe in great detail his “pivotal” role in the events that had led up to this evening’s rally.

  A few minutes later, Lisa nudged Erika’s arm. She looked up in surprise. “What?”

  “I changed my mind,” Lisa said.

  “About what?”

  She pointed. “About the divine Herr Schulenberg.”

  “What about him?”

  “You can have him.”

  Erika giggled. “I changed my mind too.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, he’s already perfect. What is there left for me to do?”

  Laughing, Lisa scooted closer and laid her head on Erika’s shoulder. “Wake me when this torture ends.”

  Blissfully, about five minutes later, Herr Dorfuss stood and went up to the young man. “My apologies, Herr von Schulenberg,” he said into the mike, “but we have a national radio broadcast starting in about one minute. You’ll have to stop now.”

  That was such good news for the crowd that several cheered or applauded loudly.

  Dorfuss stayed at the podium. “Ladies and gentleman, may I have your attention please? I am proud to announce that we will shortly join the German National Radio Network, where we shall have the privilege of hearing from Herr Reichsminister Doktor Joseph Goebbels, head of the Ministry of Public Enlightenment and Propaganda.”

  That caused a noticeable stir, after which the audience quieted. “He will be speaking to us from the Opernplatz in Berlin, but we shall be hearing it live. Please give your undivided attention.”

  Goebbels? That knocked Hans back a step or two. Technically, Goebbels was still his supervisor, his big boss. And suddenly Hans was very glad that he had come tonight. What if Hess should call tomorrow and ask if he had been there? A very likely possibility.

  Alemann leaned closer. “He’s a doctor?”

  Hans nodded. “Yes, he has a doctorate in literature and philosophy from the University of Heidelberg. And he’s a brilliant speaker.” Hans then leaned forward. “Girls, this is one I want you to listen to. Please pay close attention.”

  They nodded, but they did not see the frown that creased his brow as he sat back and took Emilee’s hand.

  As Dorfuss returned to his seat, a low hum could be heard coming from the speakers. Then they crackled with deafening static and everyone jumped. Martial music blared out but was quickly cut off. There was another moment of silence and then a man’s voice spoke out. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you, Herr Reichsminister Doktor Joseph Goebbels.” As a smattering of clapping hands could be heard, the voice that Hans knew almost as well as his own boomed out over the crowd.

  “Guten Abend, my friends and fellow countrymen,” his voice thundered. “What a privilege it is for me to speak to all of you gathered all across the Third Reich. What a privilege to be joined together in this great and noble endeavor. I wish that I could be present there with each of you, but such is not possible. Happily, however, modern radio technology allows me to address all of you across the land simultaneously.

  “I am told that here in Opera Square in Berlin, we have approximately forty thousand people, many of them young university students, who have gathered here for one purpose.”

  Hans and Alemann exchanged looks. Forty thousand! That was a stunning number.

  “I am told that similar numbers are gathered in locations across the Fatherland for the same united purpose, which is to launch our country and our culture in a new direction.”

  He stopped, and Hans expected applause, but he quickly went on.

  “Many of those listening to my voice at this moment are young students from our nation’s great universities. Therefore, it is primarily to you and the other youth of our nation that I speak on this historic night. I shall be brief, for I know that you did not come just to listen, but to act. To do. And act and do you shall.”

  Goebbels paused for just a moment. In the square, no one moved. There was barely a sound now.

  “My fellow students, I am here to say to you that the era of exaggerated Jewish intellectualism is now at an end. The triumph of the German revolution has cleared a path for the German way. And I say unto you that the future German man will not just be a man of books, but also a man of character. And
it is to this end that we wish to educate you so that, at an early age, you will have the courage to peer directly into the pitiless eyes of life. To repudiate the fear of death in order to gain again the respect for life.”

  His voice rose sharply in both intensity and volume. “That is the mission of the young, and therefore you do well at this hour to entrust to the flames the intellectual garbage of the past.”

  Hans was closely watching his two daughters, whose eyes were fixed on the nearest loudspeaker as though Goebbels were actually there speaking to them. But he could see neither of their faces and so could not tell what they were thinking.

  Exaggerated Jewish intellectualism? The intellectual garbage of the past? Hans thought. Did Lisa and Jo realize that he was talking about what they were learning at this very time at the academy? Beside him, Alemann had put his arm around the shoulders of his wife and was staring at the ground. Hans reached out and took Emilee’s hand and held it tightly.

  “Our Führer has a vision for the youth of this nation, for you young men and women within the sound of my voice who are participating in the momentous events of this evening. We are, at this very moment, initiating plans to create to a string of colleges across the land, colleges set up exclusively for Nazi youth, colleges that will have professors who understand the Nazi dream and infuse that dream into our youth. ‘And what shall they teach these eager youth?’ you may ask. I shall let the Führer answer that question himself. In a recent meeting with his cabinet, he set out his remarkable vision for you, the youth of Germany.”

  He paused, and then raising his voice so that it boomed from the speakers, Goebbels continued. “The Führer said, and I quote: ‘My program for educating youth is hard. But weakness must be hammered away. In our schools our youth will finally grow up, and the world will tremble before them. I want a brutal, domineering, fearless, cruel youth. Youth must be all of that. They must bear pain. There must be nothing weak and gentle about them. The free, splendid beast of prey, known as the Germanic spirit, must once again flash from their eyes. That, my friend, is how I shall eradicate thousands of years of human domestication. And that, my friend, is how I will create the new order that we know as the Third Reich.’”