The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich

by William Shirer

  There was an exchange of Christmas greetings between Hitler and Stalin.

  Best wishes [Hitler wired] for your personal well-being as well as for the prosperous future of the peoples of the friendly Soviet Union.

  To which Stalin replied:

  The friendship of the peoples of Germany and the Soviet Union, cemented by blood, has every reason to be lasting and firm.

  In Berlin Ambassador von Hassell used the holidays to confer with his fellow conspirators, Popitz, Goerdeler and General Beck, and on December 30 recorded in his diary the latest plan. It was

  to have a number of divisions stop in Berlin “in transit from west to east.” Then Witzleben was to appear in Berlin and dissolve the S.S. On the basis of this action Beck would go to Zossen and take the supreme command from Brauchitsch’s hands. A doctor would declare Hitler incapable of continuing in office, whereupon he would be taken into custody. Then an appeal would be made to the people along these lines: prevention of further S.S. atrocities, restoration of decency and Christian morality, continuation of the war, but readiness for peace on a reasonable basis …

  But it was all unreal; all talk. And so confused were the “plotters” that Hassell devoted a long patch of his diary to the consideration of whether they should retain Goering or not!

  Goering himself, along with Hitler, Himmler, Goebbels, Ley and other party leaders, used the New Year to issue grandiose proclamations. Ley said, “The Fuehrer is always right! Obey the Fuehrer!” The Fuehrer himself proclaimed that not he but “the Jewish and capitalistic warmongers” had started the war and went on:

  United within the country, economically prepared and militarily armed to the highest degree, we enter this most decisive year in German history … May the year 1940 bring the decision. It will be, whatever happens, our victory.

  On December 27 he had again postponed the attack in the West “by at least a fortnight.” On January 10 he ordered it definitely set for January 17 “fifteen minutes before sunrise—8:16 A.M.” The Air Force was to begin its attack on January 14, three days in advance, its task being to destroy enemy airfields in France, but not in Belgium and Holland. The two little neutral countries were to be kept guessing about their fate until the last moment.

  But on January 13 the Nazi warlord suddenly postponed the onslaught again “on account of the meteorological situation.” The captured OKW file on D Day in the West is thereafter silent until May 7. Weather may have played a part in the calling off of the attack on January 13. But we now know that two other events were mainly responsible—an unfortunate forced landing of a very special German military plane in Belgium on January 10 and a new opportunity that now appeared to the north.

  On the very day, January 10, that Hitler had ordered the attack through Belgium and Holland to begin on the seventeenth, a German military plane flying from Muenster to Cologne became lost in the clouds over Belgium and was forced to land near Mechelen-sur-Meuse. In it was Major Helmut Reinberger, an important Luftwaffe staff officer, and in his briefcase were the German plans, complete with maps, for the attack in the West. As Belgian soldiers closed in, the major made for some nearby bushes and lit a fire to the contents of his briefcase. Attracted by this interesting phenomenon the Belgian soldiers stamped out the flames and retrieved what was left. Taken to military quarters nearby, Reinberger, in a desperate gesture, grabbed the partly burned papers, which a Belgian officer had placed on a table, and threw them into a lighted stove. The Belgian officer quickly snatched them out.

  Reinberger promptly reported to Luftwaffe headquarters in Berlin through his embassy in Brussels that he had succeeded in burning down the papers to “insignificant fragments, the size of the palm of his hand.” But in Berlin there was consternation in high quarters. Jodl immediately reported to Hitler “on what the enemy may or may not know.” But he did not know himself. “If enemy is in possession of all the files,” he confided to his diary on January 12, after seeing the Fuehrer, “the situation is catastrophic.” That evening Ribbentrop sent a “most urgent” wire to the German Embassy in Brussels asking for an immediate report on the “destruction of the courier baggage.” On the morning of January 13, Jodl’s diary reveals, there was a conference of Goering with his air attaché in Brussels, who had flown posthaste back to Berlin, and the top Luftwaffe brass. “Result: Dispatch case burned for certain,” Jodl recorded.

  But this was whistling in the dark, as Jodl’s journal makes clear. At 1 P.M. it noted: “Order to Gen. Halder by telephone: All movements to stop.”

  The same day, the thirteenth, the German ambassador in Brussels was urgently informing Berlin of considerable Belgian troop movements “as a result of alarming reports received by the Belgian General Staff.” The next day the ambassador got off another “most urgent” message to Berlin: The Belgians were ordering “Phase D,” the next-to-the-last step in mobilization, and calling up two new classes. The reason, he thought, was “reports of German troop movements on the Belgian and Dutch frontiers as well as the content of the partly unburned courier mail found on the German Air Force officer.”

  By the evening of January 15 doubts had risen in the minds of the top brass in Berlin whether Major Reinberger had really destroyed the incriminating documents as he had claimed. They were “presumably burned,” Jodl remarked after another conference on the matter. But on January 17 the Belgian Foreign Minister, Paul-Henri Spaak, sent for the German ambassador and told him flatly, as the latter promptly reported to Berlin, that

  the plane which made an emergency landing on January 10 had put into Belgian hands a document of the most extraordinary and serious nature, which contained clear proof of an intention to attack. It was not just an operations plan, but an attack order worked out in every detail, in which only the time remained to be inserted.

  The Germans were never quite sure whether Spaak was not bluffing. On the Allied side—the British and French general staffs were given copies of the German plan—there was a tendency to view the German papers as a “plant.” Churchill says he vigorously opposed this interpretation and laments that nothing was done about this grave warning. What is certain is that on January 13, the day after Hitler was informed of the affair, he postponed the attack and that by the time it again came up for decision in the spring the whole strategic plan had been fundamentally changed.58

  But the forced landing in Belgium—and the bad weather—were not the only reasons for putting off the attack. Plans for a daring German assault on two other little neutral states farther to the north had in the meantime been ripening in Berlin and now took priority. The phony war, so far as the Germans were concerned, was coming to an end with the approach of spring.

  † On October 9 this writer journeyed by rail up the east bank of the Rhine where for a hundred miles it forms the Franco–German frontier and noted in his diary: “No sign of war and the train crew told me not a shot had been fired on this front since the war began … We could see the French bunkers and at many places great mats behind which the French were building fortifications. Identical picture on the German side. The troops … went about their business in full sight and range of each other … The Germans were hauling up guns and supplies on the railroad line, but the French did not disturb them. Queer kind of war.” (Berlin Diary, p. 234.)

  * Churchill, then First Lord of the Admiralty, disclosed the general figures in the House of Commons on September 26. He gives the corrected official figures in his memoirs. He also told the House that six or seven U-boats had been sunk, but actually, as he also notes in his book, the figure was later learned to be only two.

  Churchill’s speech was marked by an amusing anecdote in which he told how a U-boat commander had signaled him personally the position of a British ship he had just sunk and urged that rescue should be sent. “I was in some doubt to what address I should direct a reply,” Churchill said. “However, he is now in our hands.” But he wasn’t. This writer interviewed the submarine skipper, Captain Herbert Schultze, in Berlin two days
later in a broadcast to America. He produced from his logbook his message to Churchill. (See Churchill, The Gathering Storm, pp. 436–37; Berlin Diary, pp. 225–27.)

  * The next day, September 4, all U-boats were signaled: “By order of the Fuehrer, on no account are operations to be carried out against passenger steamers, even when under escort.”

  † Apparently not in code. A copy of the naval attaché’s cable to Washington showed up in the German naval papers at Nuremberg.

  * The italics are the Admiral’s.

  † The officers, including Lemp, and some of the crew were transferred to the U-110 and went down with her on May 9, 1941. One member of the crew was wounded by aircraft fire a few days after the sinking of the Athenia. He was disembarked at Reykjavik, Iceland, under pledge of the strictest secrecy, later taken to a POW camp in Canada, and after the war signed an affidavit giving the facts. The Germans appear to have been worried that he would “talk,” but he didn’t until the war’s end.12

  * Mussolini did not share Hitler’s confidence in victory, which Ciano reported to him. He thought the British and French “would hold firm … Why hide it?” Ciano wrote in his diary October 3, “he [Mussolini] is somewhat bitter about Hitler’s sudden rise to fame.” (Ciano Diaries, p. 155.)

  * A little later, on November 16, the Italians informed the Germans that according to their information from Paris, “Marshal Pétain is regarded as the advocate of a peace policy in France … If the question of peace should become more acute in France, Pétain will play a role.”19 This appears to be the first indication to the Germans that Pétain might prove useful to them later on.

  † The day before, on October 11, there had been a peace riot in Berlin. Early in the morning a broadcast on the Berlin radio wave length announced that the British government had fallen and that there would be an immediate armistice. There was great rejoicing in the capital as the rumor spread. Old women in the vegetable markets tossed their cabbages into the air, wrecked their stands in sheer joy and made for the nearest pub to toast the peace with Schnaps.

  * According to the official Dutch account, which came to light after the war, the British car, with Stevens, Best and Klop in it, was towed by the Germans across the frontier, which was only 125 feet away. Starting on November 10, the next day, the Dutch government made nine written requests at frequent intervals for the return of Klop and the Dutch chauffeur of the car and also demanded a German investigation of this violation of Dutch neutrality. No reply was ever made until May 10, when Hitler justified his attack on the Netherlands partly on the grounds that the Venlo affair had proven the complicity of the Dutch with the British secret service. Klop died from his wounds a few days later. Best and Stevens survived five years in Nazi concentration camps.29

  * Later at Dachau Elser told a similar story to Pastor Niemoeller, who since has stated his personal conviction that the bombing was sanctioned by Hitler to increase his own popularity and stir up the war fever of the people. It is only fair to add that Gisevius, archenemy of Hitler, Himmler and Schellenberg, believes—as he testified at Nuremberg and in his book—that Elser really attempted to kill Hitler and that there were no Nazi accomplices. Schellenberg, who is less reliable, states that though he was suspicious at first of Himmler and Heydrich, he later concluded, after questioning the carpenter and after reading interrogations made while Elser was first drugged and then hypnotized, that it was a case of a genuine attempt at assassination.

  * It was found in May 1945 by Lieutenant Walter Stein of the U.S. Seventh Army in Frank’s apartment at the hotel Berghof near Neuhaus in Bavaria.

  * Ciano conveyed the warning to the Belgian ambassador in Rome on January 2, noting the action in his diary. According to Weizsaecker the Germans intercepted two coded telegrams from the ambassador to Brussels containing the Italian warning and deciphered them.44

  * On October 9, 1918—this is a little-known, ludicrous tidbit of history—the Finnish Diet, under the impression that Germany was winning the war, elected by a vote of 75 to 25 Prince Friedrich Karl of Hesse to be King of Finland. Allied victory a month later put an end to this fantastic episode.

  * After the conquest of France and the lowlands, Goering informed General Thomas, the economic chief of OKW, “that the Fuehrer desired punctual delivery to the Russians only until the spring of 1941. Later on,” he added, “we would have no further interest in completely satisfying the Russian demands.”49

  * The day before the scuttling Goebbels had made the German press play up a faked dispatch from Montevideo saying the Graf Spee had suffered only “superficial damage” and that British reports that it had been severely crippled were “pure lies.”

  20

  THE CONQUEST OF DENMARK AND NORWAY

  THE INNOCENT-SOUNDING code name for the latest plan of German aggression was Weseruebung, or “Weser Exercise.” Its origins and development were unique, quite unlike those for unprovoked attack that have filled so large a part of this narrative. It was not the brain child of Hitler, as were all the others, but of an ambitious admiral and a muddled Nazi party hack. It was the only act of German military aggression in which the German Navy played the decisive role. It was also the only one for which OKW did the planning and co-ordinating of the three armed services. In fact, the Army High Command and its General Staff were not even consulted, much to their annoyance, and Goering was not brought into the picture until the last moment—a slight that infuriated the corpulent chief of the Luftwaffe.

  The German Navy had long had its eyes on the north. Germany had no direct access to the wide ocean, a geographical fact which had been imprinted on the minds of its naval officers during the First World War. A tight British net across the narrow North Sea, from the Shetland Islands to the coast of Norway, maintained by a mine barrage and a patrol of ships, had bottled up the powerful Imperial Navy, seriously hampered the attempts of U-boats to break out into the North Atlantic, and kept German merchant shipping off the seas. The German High Seas Fleet never reached the high seas. The British naval blockade stifled Imperial Germany in the first war. Between the wars the handful of German naval officers who commanded the country’s modestly sized Navy pondered this experience and this geographical fact and came to the conclusion that in any future war with Britain, Germany must try to gain bases in Norway, which would break the British blockade line across the North Sea, open up the broad ocean to German surface and undersea vessels and indeed offer an opportunity for the Reich to reverse the tables and mount an effective blockade of the British Isles.

  It was not surprising, then, that at the outbreak of war in 1939 Admiral Rolf Carls, the third-ranking officer in the German Navy and a forceful personality, should start peppering Admiral Raeder, as the latter noted in his diary and testified at Nuremberg, with letters suggesting “the importance of an occupation of the Norwegian coast by Germany.”1 Raeder needed little urging and on October 3, at the end of the Polish campaign, sent a confidential questionnaire to the Naval War Staff asking it to ascertain the possibility of gaining “bases in Norway under the combined pressure of Russia and Germany.” Ribbentrop was consulted about Moscow’s attitude and replied that “far-reaching support may be expected” from that source. Raeder told his staff that Hitler must be informed as soon as possible about the “possibilities.”2

  On October 10, in the course of a lengthy report to the Fuehrer on naval operations, Raeder suggested the importance of obtaining naval bases in Norway, if necessary with the help of Russia. This—so far as the confidential records show—was the first time the Navy had directly called the matter to the attention of Hitler. Raeder says the Leader “saw at once the significance of the Norwegian problem.” He asked him to leave his notes on the subject and promised to give the question some thought. But at the moment the Nazi warlord was preoccupied with launching his attack in the West and with overcoming the hesitations of his generals.* Norway apparently slipped out of his mind.3

  But it came back in two months—for three reasons.<
br />
  One was the advent of winter. Germany’s very existence depended upon the import of iron ore from Sweden. For the first war year the Germans were counting on eleven million tons of it out of a total annual consumption of fifteen million tons. During the warm-weather months this ore was transported from northern Sweden down the Gulf of Bothnia and across the Baltic to Germany, and presented no problem even in wartime, since the Baltic was effectively barred to British submarines and surface ships. But in the wintertime this shipping lane could not be used because of thick ice. During the cold months the Swedish ore had to be shipped by rail to the nearby Norwegian port of Narvik and brought down the Norwegian coast by ship to Germany. For almost the entire journey German ore vessels could sail within Norway’s territorial waters and thereby escape destruction by British naval vessels and bombers.