The Proud Shall Stumble

by Gerald N. Lund

  “And listen to their prayers. Listen to Lisa thank her Heavenly Father for bringing her Vati home again. She’ll believe you’re there because of her prayers. Are you going to try to talk her out of that?”

  Hans threw up his hands and looked up at the ceiling. “Okay, it’s a miracle. Thank you, God!”

  Inga gasped. “Hans Otto Eckhardt! Don’t blaspheme.”

  He swung on her. “Why not, Mama? If God gets the credit for what happened today, why doesn’t He get the credit for what happened on November ninth? There were hundreds of us out there that day, but only eleven of us were arrested. Why didn’t God make it just ten and spare me? Ernst Roehm and General Ludendorff were marching straight toward the police lines when they opened fire. Yet neither of them received a scratch. I was more than a hundred yards away, trying to get to cover, yet I caught a bullet in the back. Couldn’t God have deflected that? Yes, I am grateful that my life was spared, but with just the tiniest bit of effort on His part, couldn’t God have helped the surgeons get the bullet out so I don’t have constant pain in this damnable leg of mine?”

  Shocked by the fierceness of his words, Emilee started to cry. Inga, on the other hand, gave her son a long, searching look. “Friedrich Nietzsche once said, ‘This is the hardest of all, to close the open hand of love from giving too much.’ You’ve had a wonderful life, Hans. Your father and I gave you every opportunity, far beyond what we gave your sisters. Is this what we created? Is it because we gave you too much? Is that why you are too proud to acknowledge the possibility of God’s hand in your life?”

  “Stop!” Emilee cried. Hans whirled around and Inga also turned in surprise.

  “No more! I’m sorry I brought it up. But let’s not ruin today. Let’s just be grateful that you’re coming home.”

  Hans swept her up in his arms. “I’m sorry, Emilee. You’re right. Let’s just be happy. I. . . . It’s been a rough four months. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t believe that what happened today was . . . remarkable.”

  Emilee put her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest again. “Your mother and I will thank God for all of us.” She looked up at him. Her eyes were teasing now but carried just a touch of disappointment. “And when you’re not listening, I’ll pray that God will loosen your tongue to the point that someday you can actually say the word ‘miracle’ without choking on it.”

  Hans laughed in spite of himself. “That would be a miracle in and of itself.”

  Inga came over and Hans lifted one arm to draw her into their embrace. “I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

  “No, son. I’m the one who is sorry. You’re right. This has been a terrible time for you. So let’s all just be thankful that you are coming home today.”

  Hans kissed his mother on the top of her head and laughed softly. “Oh, Mutti, Mutti. How could someone as good and sweet and wonderful as you raise a spoiled little brat like me?”

  Inga looked up and gave him an impish smile. “You’re not little anymore.”

  Hans laughed with genuine mirth. “Actually, I think Papa gets more credit for me being spoiled than you do.”

  12:11 p.m.

  Hans was pacing the room, rubbing his leg as he noticeably limped. He stopped and looked out the window. “What if the army wasn’t able to get a hold of Wolfie? I should have had them call Ernst.”

  “Ernst doesn’t have a car,” Inga pointed out. “I’m sure Wolfie will be along soon. He probably had to get permission to leave work in the middle of the day. And besides, it took Emilee and me over an hour to get down here by trolley. And it’s only been about half an hour since they called him.”

  Hans sighed but then smiled. “I think my patience has worn a little thin in confinement.”

  Emilee smiled at him. “And I think that you are so anxious to see Alisa and Jolanda again that it makes time seem to crawl for you.”

  “More than you can possibly imagine.” He turned back to Emilee. “Are you sure we shouldn’t call Anna and tell her the news so she can tell the girls I’m coming?”

  “I will if you want,” Emilee said.

  Something in the way she said it made him look more closely at her. “But you don’t think we should?”

  “Only because we don’t know how long it’s going to take to get you processed. What if it’s another hour, or an hour and a half? You know how children are. Half an hour seems like a day to them. I think it’s better to just surprise them. But we can call Anna as we leave if you’d like.”

  Hans sighed again. “No, you’re right. And I like the idea of surprising them.” Then he took Emilee in his arms and kissed her softly. “Did I ever tell you how much I love you?”

  “Never,” she said. “Tell me.”

  “Well, I do. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. And maybe that’s it. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about things, and I have come to realize just how incredibly lucky I was to find you and to have you agree to marry me.”

  “I agree,” Emilee said with a droll smile. “That was your lucky day.” Then her expression softened. “And mine too, Hans. Mine too.”

  Before he could answer, there was a soft rap on the door. “Come in,” Hans called as he looked at his wife. “I can’t believe they actually knock now. I mean, this is still technically a prison cell.”

  The door opened and the guard stuck his head in. “Herr Eckhardt, you have a visitor.”

  “Gut, gut!” Hans exclaimed. “Wolfie made good time after all.”

  But it was not Wolfie. It was Adolf Hitler who came through the door. Inga quickly moved to stand by Emilee as Hans went over to shake hands with his friend. “Adolf,” he cried, “what are you doing here? I thought you were on your way to Landsberg.”

  “We’re supposed to be. The truck that is taking the four of us is out front, but I told them I had to say good-bye to my old friend.”

  “This is an honor,” Hans said. “Danke.”

  “And Emilee,” Adolf said, stepping over and taking her hand. He bowed low and kissed the back of it. “How good to see you. I imagine this is a most happy day for you,” he said warmly. “A happy day indeed.”

  “More than I can express,” Emilee answered. Then she smiled. “It may take a while to get used to having Hans around the house again.”

  “Ja, ja,” Adolf laughed. “Dirty clothes all over. Ring in the bathtub. And how are those two darling little girls of yours?”

  “They are very good, thank you. They will be much better when they see who I bring home with me today.”

  Adolf turned to Hans. “I was just over in the headquarters building getting our paperwork for Landsberg. I asked about the rest of your papers, and they said they should be done in about an hour.”

  “Wunderbar,” Hans said. “We are quite ready to go.”

  Adolf turned to Inga. “And this must be your mother, Hans.”

  Inga blushed and did a little curtsey as Hans introduced them. “It is a great honor to meet you, Herr Hitler,” Inga said.

  “Adolf, please,” he said as he took her hand and kissed it as well. “Thank you for raising such a wonderful son. And I am so sorry for the loss of your husband.”

  Tears filled Inga’s eyes. “And I want to thank you personally for saving our farm in the way you did,” she responded. “You kept four families, including several young children, from being tossed out into the streets. How can we ever repay you for that?”

  “But you already have!” he retorted. “With the help of others, I was able to save your farm that day. But not five days later your son saved my life. Under intense fire, he raced in and carried me to safety. I think that more than repays me, don’t you?”

  Inga could barely speak. “We are grateful for that too, but we shall forever be in your debt.”

  With the sudden abruptness that was so t
ypical of him, Adolf dropped Inga’s hand and strode over to the door. He opened it and motioned for the guard. “Could you find me a chair, young man?”

  To Hans’s surprise, the guard snapped to attention and gave the Nazi salute. “Jawohl, mein Führer.” And he darted away.

  As Adolf turned back, he saw the look on Hans’s face. “What?”

  “I thought the army didn’t like you.”

  “Only those dunderhead generals who are in command. The rank and file stand with us.” Adolf laughed. “And since this morning, they’re not afraid to show it. In fact, the commandant of the post here came over and congratulated me afterwards.”

  “Really?” Hans replied. “That says a lot.” He sobered then. “I feel guilty that I will be at home tonight and you will be starting a five-year term. Do you plan to appeal?”

  “Heavens no,” Adolf retorted. “Why would I want to do that?”

  That took Emilee aback. “Because five years is a long time, especially considering that everyone was let off but you four.”

  Just then the door opened and the guard was there with a chair. “Danke, my young friend,” Adolf said graciously as he took it from him. “Oh, and could you run out front and tell the driver that I’ll be here about another ten minutes?”

  “Of course, mein Führer.” Another salute and the young man shut the door again.

  Hans just shook his head as Adolf sat down and motioned for them to sit too. It was hard to tell who was the prisoner here and who wasn’t.

  Adolf went right on as if they hadn’t been interrupted. “I appreciate your concern, Emilee, but don’t worry about me, my dear. Judge Neithardt told me afterwards that we will be eligible for parole in six months to a year.”

  “Six months?” Hans blurted. “He told you that?”

  “Ja. Actually, it was part of the sentencing statement, but he didn’t read it aloud in court because some of the journalists are already complaining that the court was somewhat too lenient with us. A statement that I disagree with, incidentally.”

  “You do?” Hans asked. Though he wouldn’t complain about it, Hans had been shocked throughout the trial, even astonished, at the favorable way the court had treated all of them—Hitler especially. He wasn’t an attorney, but he guessed that much of it was sufficient for the prosecutors to call for a mistrial.

  “Ja,” Adolf said, beaming now. “I think a more accurate way to put it would be to say that the court was totally biased in our favor.”

  “Okay,” Hans laughed. “And we owe a great debt to Judge Neithardt for that.”

  “Actually,” Adolf said, “it’s another old friend who really gets the credit for our light sentences—the Honorable Franz Gürtner, Minister of Justice for Bavaria. He came to see me one night not long after we were arrested.”

  Hans nodded. It was common knowledge Gürtner was a close friend of Hitler’s and a staunch supporter of the party.

  “I hinted that if he were to help us now, I would put his name forward as an excellent candidate for the Riechsminister of the new government when the time comes.”

  It was all Emilee could do not to gape at him. Had he just admitted that he had bribed the state’s highest judicial officer with a promised position of power?

  “So,” Adolf went on, “Gürtner quickly agreed with my recommendation that Judge Neithardt be appointed as the chief judge over the trial. And I asked Franz to also make certain that the other five judges would also be sympathetic to our cause.”

  Emilee turned away so Adolf could not see the dismay on her face. Surely there had to be some pretty serious consequences for suborning a whole panel of judges. And so openly? She glanced at Hans and saw that he was a little shocked too.

  But Hitler saw none of it. He was enjoying himself, sharing these secrets with old friends. “But it nearly backfired on us,” he was saying, chuckling now. “Did you know that the three lay judges each voted to have us acquitted?”

  “Acquitted?” Hans yelped.

  “Yes. They are all Nazi Party members, so they were adamant that we had committed no crimes. We were heroes in their eyes. But Judge Neithardt finally convinced them that if the bias in our favor was too blatant, Bavaria might seek a new trial, and none of us wants that.”

  Seeing their expressions, Adolf must have realized that he may have said too much. “Don’t worry. It was all done quietly and above board. Nothing so crass as having money exchanged. Both Gürtner and Neithardt are true patriots.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You can’t say any of this to others,” he warned. “It’s our little secret.” He was looking at Hans when he said it. And though he was half joking, Emilee could see that he regretted having been so open with them.

  “I’m going home today,” Hans murmured. “I’m certainly not complaining about our ‘good fortune’ in the selection of judges.”

  Adolf straightened and stuck out his hand. “Thank you again, old friend. I shall be forever in your debt.”

  “And we in yours,” Hans said right back. “Would it be a problem if I were to come out to visit you from time to time?”

  “Oh, heavens no. I have unrestricted visiting rights. Come out any time.” Then he laughed. “I received a phone call right after the trial from the superintendent of the prison. He congratulated me on how the trial went and promised to see that I am as comfortable as possible. He also said that so many supporters have been sending me gifts since the trial began that my cell could be turned into a flower shop, a confectionary, and a wine shop. Yes, definitely, come and see me. And bring Emilee too if you can.”

  “Would you like us to bring you some books?” Hans asked. “You’re going to have a lot of time on your hands.”

  Adolf was shaking his head. “Actually, I won’t. I have already decided how to fill my time.”

  “Really? How?” Emilee asked.

  “I am going to write my autobiography.”

  Hans’s jaw dropped a bit, and Hitler laughed aloud. “Yes, I thought that would surprise you.”

  “And do you have a title for your life story, Herr Hitler?” Inga asked.

  “I do.” Adolf was quite sober now. “I am going to call it Four and a Half Years of Struggle Against Lies, Stupidity, and Cowardice.” A grin suddenly lit up his face. “Max Amann, who has already promised to publish it for me, thinks the title is far too ponderous.”

  “Does he have another suggestion?” Hans asked.

  “He does. He wants to simply call it Mein Kampf.” Adolf’s grin became almost boyish. “And I have to admit that the title is growing on me.”

  Chapter Notes

  The idea of having Hitler come and say farewell to the prisoners who were to be released before he was transferred to Landsberg is my own. We are not told if that transfer took place immediately on the closing of the trial or sometime later. But Hitler’s influence on Franz Gürtner is true, and Gürtner is mostly credited for the attitude of the court and leniency of the sentences for the prisoners. In 1933, when the Nazi Party came to power in Germany and formally created the Third Reich, Franz Gürtner was made the Minister of Justice in Berlin. He served in that position for many years (see “Biographical Time-Line”).

  The three lay judges did hold out strongly to acquit all the prisoners but were talked out of it by Judge Neithardt. Hitler’s accommodations at Landsberg Prison were extraordinarily comfortable, and his rights far exceeded those extended to other prisoners. The “floral, confectionary, and wine shop” comment comes from a contemporary who visited Hitler there (see ibid., 8; see also Rise and Fall, 79).

  Hitler and his supporters began pushing for his parole in the summer of 1924, but it received strong opposition from the Bavarian state government and the petition was denied. On December 19, 1924, the Bavarian Supreme Court granted the parole and Hitler was released after serving a little more than a year of his five-year sentence. The
next day, a New York Times journalist sent this wire to New York, and it was then published in the paper.

  “Adolf Hitler, once the demi-god of the reactionary extremists, was released on parole from imprisonment at Fortress Landsberg, Bavaria, today and immediately left in an auto for Munich. He looked a much sadder and wiser man today than last Spring when he, with Ludendorff and other radical extremists, appeared before a Munich court charged with conspiracy to overthrow the government. His behavior during imprisonment convinced the authorities that he, like his political organization, was no longer to be feared. It is believed he will retire to private life, and return to Austria, the country of his birth” (“Biographical Time-Line”).

  June 3, 1925, 3:40 p.m.—

  South Station Train Terminal, Boston, Massachusetts

  Celeste gave a low cry and then turned around to see where Frank and Reginald had gotten to. She saw them near the cavernous entry into the terminal and cupped her hand to her mouth. “Frank!”

  He didn’t turn. She called louder. “Frank, their train is here. Come!”

  Frank looked up, saw where she was pointing, and waved. Then he scooped Reginald up from off the bench he was climbing on and walked swiftly toward her. As he reached her, Celeste held out her hands. “Come to Mummy, Reginald. Grandma and Grandpa Westland are coming.”

  Frank smiled to himself. Reginald would turn two in August, and the last time he had seen his Utah grandparents had been eighteen months earlier. It pleased him that Celeste was actually eager to see his parents again. But he said nothing. He went up and stood beside his wife as the locomotive chugged slowly toward them, black smoke billowing from its smokestack. He leaned in and spoke loudly into her ear. “I’m so pleased they decided to come out for our graduations.”

  Nodding, Celeste said, “To be honest, I didn’t think they would. But I’m so happy they did.” A deep frown suddenly creased her forehead. “Do you think it’s going to be awkward between me and Benji, Frank?”