The Proud Shall Stumble

by Gerald N. Lund

  Paula and Emilee were totally taken aback, but Wolfie seemed not at all surprised. He was smiling.

  “What will you do?” Inga asked.

  Wolfie answered for him. “He will be employed by the Depart­ment of Public Works, in the Agricultural Support Develop­ment Office,” Wolfie said.

  Inga, Emilee, Paula, and Ernst all whirled to stare at him.

  Rudi smiled shyly. “Yes. Thanks to Wolfie’s recommendation, I start in two weeks and will be specifically assigned to help dairy farmers learn new ways to improve and facilitate higher milk and cheese production.”

  Inga leaned back in her chair. Her eyes were glistening. “It is a good thing, Rudi. We will miss you terribly, but it is the right thing for you.”

  “We think so too, Mama,” Anna said. “Ilse’s Annaliese is married now, and her husband is unemployed. They could move into our cottage. And her Kristen is eighteen and is very sweet on the Zimmerman boy from Oberammergau. Soon they will marry too. And Klaus Jr. and even Gerhardt are old enough now to help with the milking and bringing in the hay. It is a good time for us to leave.”

  “As long as you are only going to to Munich,” Inga said. She got up again and took both of them in her arms. “Das ist gut. We will tell the others when we get back tonight. But please do not feel bad. This is right for your family. And now with a baby coming, it will be good for Anna to be up here where she can see a doctor regularly.”

  The three of them hugged for a moment, and then Anna pulled free. “And there is one more thing.”

  “My goodness,” Ernst said. “Three things to announce? I hope this one is good news too.”

  Rudi and Anna exchanged glances, smiling broadly now. “You tell them,” Rudi said.

  He put his arm around Anna and pulled her in close against his shoulder as she took a deep breath, let it out, and smiled even more broadly. “Paula? Emilee? Do you happen to have the telephone number of the missionaries?’

  At first the two women just stared at her, but then Paula squealed loudly and leaped to her feet. Inga and Emilee were right behind her. “For both of you?” Emilee cried.

  Anna, now blushing furiously in her joy, nodded. “Yes. We would like to have them come as soon as we get moved up here and settled in.”

  Chapter Notes

  The meeting of the Bavarian Ministers’ Council wherein the Minister of the Interior proposed deporting Hitler to Austria and the ruling from the presiding judge are matters of record, as are the thoughts from journalists on the blatant leniency granted to Hitler by the court (see “Biographical Time-Line of the Infamous Adolf Hitler: Chapter 15: Show Time, Soft Trial,” grwa.tripod.com/ht15.html).

  March 27, 1924, 2:45 p.m.—

  Courtroom, Infantry School, Munich

  Complete silence fell over the courtroom as the lead prosecuting attorney finished his closing arguments and returned to the prosecutors’ table to rejoin his two assistants. All eyes turned to the Honorable Georg Neithardt, presiding judge, as he put on a pair of spectacles and began to review the notes in front of him.

  At the defendants’ table, General Ludendorff stared out at nothing, his face completely inscrutable. He was always haughty and aloof, but now it was like he was alone in the room, contemplating whatever it was that famous generals contemplated.

  Early in the trial, he had been interviewed about how he had gotten caught up in the disastrous putsch. His answer, supposedly confidential, had made the national newspapers. “Adolf Hitler misled me,” he had said. “He lied to me. He is nothing but a speechmaker and a political adventurer.” As far as Hans knew, the two of them had not spoken since.

  As for Adolf, he also seemed far away. Between him and Ludendorff, the two defense attorneys conferred in soft whispers from time to time, but neither seemed anxious to talk to their clients. For that matter, Hans was lost in his own thoughts too. The end of the trial had finally come. Twenty-seven days of legal wrangling, contradictory testimony, bitter accusations and counter-­accusations, mind-numbing legal arguments, and the constant pain in his leg. The ordeal had left him exhausted and listless. It was about to end, and by this point, it didn’t matter much to him whether they won or lost.

  Then the voice in Hans’s head, which often sounded very much like the voice of his wife, chided him. Of course it matters. Since when did possible life imprisonment not matter? He lifted himself enough to adjust the cushion on the chair, trying to place it where it would lessen the ache in his leg a little. It helped, but only marginally. By this point in the day, nothing made much difference.

  Then, to Hans’s surprise, Judge Neithardt pushed his papers aside, looked up, and rapped his gavel sharply on the table. As the court came to attention, he began to speak without preamble. “We have reached the conclusion of this trial. Before the judges adjourn to deliberate, we invite our eleven codefendants to stand and give their closing statements. These should be brief and to the point at hand, namely, how do you answer to the charges of high treason against you?”

  He looked down at Ludendorff. “We shall begin with the lead defendant, General Erich Ludendorff. General Ludendorff, sir, you may begin.”

  For a moment, the proud old warrior didn’t move, but then he got slowly to his feet. He leaned forward, his hands on the table.

  “Danke Schön, Your Honor. I say only this. I am generally viewed by the people as a hero of the Great War, the man who led the Battle of Tannenberg, where we annihilated the Russian Second Army so severely that its commanding general committed suicide afterwards. And I humbly accept those accolades. I need not remind you of all my successes in the war. Modesty forbids it.”

  Hans just shook his head. The man had not the slightest idea of the meaning of the word.

  “I accept that recognition as my just due,” General Ludendorff continued, “for I am a representative of the old army, of the time when Germany was great and a power to be reckoned with. Now, this court tries to depict me as a representative of a new era, an era of deterioration and decline and even disgrace in the Fatherland. What you don’t see is that my real life’s work has been a struggle for the German people, a struggle to keep our nation free and strong, a struggle for the future of the Fatherland.”

  General Ludendorff paused and looked directly at Judge Neithardt. “Guilty of treason? I think not, sir.” He spoke in cold contempt. “I was drawn into this debacle because I was led to believe that this was our chance to cleanse our national government of the men who betrayed it and sold out our people, first in a railway car in the forests of Compiegne, then again a year later in the palace of Versailles.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at Adolf, and the look on Ludendorff’s face was one of utter contempt. “As I have said before, Herr Adolf Hitler misled me. He said that the Bavarian Army was behind the revolt to the last man and that they were waiting only for me to step forward and take command. It was a lie! He claims great things for himself, this man who sits before us, but I say again that he is nothing more than a speechmaker and a political adventurer. And I deeply regret being drawn in with him.” He sat down heavily and clasped his hands.

  Hans’s eyes were fixed on Hitler. The general’s scathing denunciation had left the courtroom in palpable shock. But Adolf seemed unaware of it. He had picked up a pencil and was aimlessly drawing on a notepad. His face was drawn and pale but otherwise expressionless. Hans felt himself tense. Don’t do it, Adolf. Don’t strike back at him. You can’t win this battle.

  After almost a full minute of writing some notes, Judge Neithardt cleared his throat. “Herr Hitler, do you wish to make a closing statement?”

  And just like that, Adolf came out of it. He got up quickly and moved around to the front of the table so that he half blocked General Ludendorff’s view of the judges, but other than that, it was as though no one behind him existed—not Ludendorff, not the attorneys, not the packed courtroom.

 
“Danke, Your Honor. My thanks to you and all of the judges for how you have conducted this trial. And thank you for this opportunity.” He stopped and took a deep breath and then turned around.

  “Don’t do it, Adolf,” Hans said under his breath.

  But Hitler didn’t so much as glance at Ludendorff, who was just two or three feet away from him. He was looking at the row behind where Hans and the other defendants sat, the row where the three key witnesses for the prosecution—Kahr, Lossow, and Seisser—were seated. After a moment he moved away from the defendants’ table so that he faced these three more directly.

  “Early on in this trial,” he began, his voice calm, almost conversational, “State Minister von Kahr accused me of being no more than a drummer boy in this attempted movement to throw the November criminals in Berlin out of office. He also said, and I quote, ‘Herr Hitler dreams of commanding armies and longs to be a minister of state so that after his death he can have a monument built to his name.’”

  He shot the minister a pitying look. “As for my aspirations to be a minister such as yourself, I say only this: how petty are the thoughts of small men. Believe me, I do not regard the acquisition of a minister’s portfolio as a thing worth striving for. I do not hold it worthy of a great man to endeavor to go down in history just for becoming a minister.” He turned to the crowd and gave them an enigmatic smile. “If one did so, one might be in danger of being buried alongside others ministers, a sure path to complete obscurity.”

  Light laughter rippled through the room as Kahr’s face flamed scarlet.

  Adolf’s voice was calm, almost as though he were musing to himself. “My aim, from the first, was a thousand times higher than being a minister. I wanted to become the destroyer of Marxism. And I will yet achieve that task. And if I do, the title of Minister will be an absurdity as far as I am concerned, for after all”—he spoke to Kahr with open contempt—“I was nothing but the drummer boy in this movement.

  “These men claim that our attempted putsch failed. Well, I say here today that it did not fail. It might very well have failed if some mother had come to me and said, ‘Herr Hitler, my child was one of the sixteen men who fell mortally wounded that day and is now buried in the graveyard, and you are to blame.’ But I can assure you that no mother came to me. On the contrary, thousands more of their sons came and joined our ranks. Of the young men who fell, may it be said, ‘They too died for the Fatherland.’ Indeed, herein lies a visible sign of the triumph of November eighth. Our youth, who are in the full flood tide of their lives, roused themselves and fought together with us. November eighth did not bring us to a pit of misery, as these men claim. On the contrary, it raised the people to the highest pitch of enthusiasm.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the judges. All were leaning forward and hanging on his every word. When he turned back to the three ministers, there was the tiniest glint of victory in his eyes.

  “The Honorable Minister von Kahr accuses me of trying to jump from being a drummer boy to a dictator. I deny it not. For why should I? The man who is born to be a dictator is not compelled by something outside himself. He wills it within himself. He is not driven forward by outward forces. He drives himself. There is nothing immodest about this. That man who feels called upon to govern a people has no right to say, ‘If you want me, summon me. I will cooperate.’ No! It is his duty to step forward and take his rightful place in history.”

  Adolf paused for a moment, deep in thought. “Some say we failed that night last November. But did we? You tell me. The army we have formed is growing day by day, hour by hour, even though the government thinks we are disbanded and defeated. Though I am in chains at this moment, I nourish the proud hope that one day those rough companies will grow to become battalions, and the battalions to regiments, and the regiments to divisions. I nourish the proud hope that our flag with its brilliant colors of red, white, and black, emblazoned with the sign of the swastika, will wave over this land again.”

  Adolf was only a few feet away from Hans now, and Hans studied his face closely, especially watching his eyes. And what he saw there was very clear: triumph! There was no other word for it. Hitler knew that he had won. And with that, he slowly turned himself around to face the panel of judges. He took four steps forward.

  “Gentlemen,” he said quietly, “it is not you who pass judgment on us this day. That judgment will be spoken by the eternal court of history. But that higher court will not ask us, ‘Did you commit high treason, or did you not?’ That court will judge us—myself, the revered general of the old army, and the officers and soldiers who stood with us—as Germans who wanted only what was good for the Fatherland and who were willing to fight and die for that goal. You may pronounce us guilty a thousand times over, but the goddess of the court of eternal justice will smile upon us and tear to tatters the legal briefs of the state prosecutor and this court. For, on this day, she acquits us.” And with that he returned to his seat, picked up his pencil, and began doodling again, as if no one but him were in the room.

  After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Judge Neithardt finally recovered. He looked to the row of defendants seated behind the attorneys’ tables. “Captain Ernst Roehm? Do you wish to make a final statement?”

  Startled, Roehm fumbled for a moment but then got to his feet. “Thank you, Your Honor. But I believe Herr Hitler has said all that there is to say. He speaks for me.”

  Hans didn’t wait to be asked. He got to his feet, wincing as pain shot through his leg. “I am of the same mind,” he said to the judge. “Herr Hitler speaks for me as well.”

  One by one, the rest of them gave the same answer. When the last man had sat down again, Judge Neithardt considered things for a moment and then picked up his gavel. “The High Court will receive no more pleas. The judgment of the court will be handed down on Tuesday next, April first, at ten o’clock in the morning. Sentencing will be pronounced at the same time that the verdict is given.” The gavel banged loudly. “This court is adjourned.”

  Instantly the bailiff strode forward. “All arise!” A moment later, with the Honorable Minister of Justice Franz Gürtner in the lead and the Honorable Chief Judge Georg Neithardt close behind, the panel of jurists filed out of the room, and the room erupted into a bedlam of conversation.

  Chapter Notes

  On March 27, 1924, after twenty-seven days of testimony, the trial of ten defendants for high treason for their part in the Beer Hall Putsch of November 8 and 9, 1923, concluded with the defendants being given the opportunity to make a final statement. The statements given here are essentially from the transcripts of the trial (see Rise and Fall, 76–78, and “Biographical Time-Line”). In some cases I added content to give context to some of the things mentioned in their speeches or condensed their speech as needed.

  The first part of Ludendorff’s closing statement as found here came from his final statement, but his attack on Hitler happened in an interview a short time later. I included it here because it gives important insight into the relationship between the Führer and the general.

  April 1, 1924, 8:55 a.m.—Infantry School Barracks, Munich

  Hans slowed his step as he saw the guard standing outside the room that served as his cell. What was going on? He felt a little start. Had they moved the court time up? If so, Emilee and his mother wouldn’t make it on time. And it was too late to call them now.

  But when the guard looked up and saw Hans approaching, he actually smiled and motioned for him to keep coming. “Kommen!” he called. “I have a surprise for you, Herr Eckhardt.”

  Hans stopped. “A surprise?”

  “Ja, ja! Kommen! Come and see.”

  Hans didn’t move. This young soldier had been his guard every morning for the past several days. They had barely spoken to each other in that time. Now the guard was acting like they were longtime comrades in arms. Hans’s hesitancy only made the soldier laugh out loud. �
��Hey, Dummkopf,” he called. “Come and see for yourself.”

  Hans moved forward slowly, still very suspicious. The soldier shook his head in disbelief and turned. The door to Hans’s cell was ajar, but now the guard pulled it open all the way, motioning with his hand. A moment later, a woman stepped out into the hallway. She was still wearing a matching bonnet and shawl that glistened wet from the morning rain. “Hey, Dummkopf,” she called. “Come and see. Why so stubborn?”

  “Emilee?” Hans gasped. And then in three great leaps he was to her and swept her up in his arms. The guard stood back, keeping his eyes discreetly focused elsewhere as they embraced and Hans kissed Emilee long and hard. Finally he stepped back, taking both of her hands and searching her face. “But what are you doing here? Court doesn’t start until ten. And where’s Mama?”

  “She is here, Hans. She’s in the courtroom saving a seat for me.”

  The guard spoke up. “As you know, sentencing will also be pronounced today. Prisoners who are found guilty and given a jail sentence will be transferred this afternoon back to Landsberg Prison. Therefore, the presiding judge agreed to let one family member visit before the trial since they won’t be able to see them afterwards.”

  Hans was astounded. “That’s wonderful.” He looked around. “Is there a place where I can visit with my wife and have some privacy before court begins?”

  Thoroughly enjoying himself, the young man motioned to the open door of Hans’s cell. “Of course. Why not right here?”

  “Really?” Hans cried.

  “Yes, Herr Eckhardt. But you must be brief. We have been instructed to have all defendants in their seats no later than 9:45.” He pulled a watch from the vest of his uniform and looked at it. “But you can have ten minutes with Frau Eckhardt.” The guard stepped forward, waving for them to go through the door. After they did so, to Hans’s amazement, the guard walked away, leaving them totally alone.