The Proud Shall Stumble

by Gerald N. Lund

  Some of the tables had eight people seated at them, but there were enough tables that some had only one or two couples. Because they had come in late with Adolf, Hans and Emilee were alone at their table—which suited Emilee perfectly.

  After a brief welcome and introduction, a signal was given and the waitresses poured out from the kitchen area and started the food and beverage service. After some fancy hors d’oeuvres, they were served an excellent lemon and thyme pork schnitzel with potato salad. This was served family style, with bowls of steaming food placed in the center of the tables so everyone could serve themselves. That was topped off with dishes of Franzbrötchen, small sweet pastries baked with butter and cinnamon and served with bowls of vanilla ice cream. And throughout the evening, as expected, many gallons of various lagers were served to all. Of course, Emilee had only water. Because he would be driving them home, Hans limited himself to only one stein of beer.

  As usual, Hans had finished his meal before Emilee, and now he sat back and studied the people around them. Seeing that, Emilee paused and looked around too. “I recognize many of the people, Hans, but help me again with their names in case we end up in conversation with them.”

  “All right. Let’s start with Adolf’s table. Seated at the table with him are Hermann Goering and Frau Goering. You know them, of course.”

  “Ja. And her name is Karin, right?”

  “Yes. Baroness Karin von Kantzow, of Swedish nobility. They are the party’s most widely recognized couple. The other couple there is Rudolf and Frau Hess.”

  “Her name is Ilse,” Emilee said with a smile.

  “Ah yes. That’s why I bring you to these things. At the next table—”

  Emilee cut in. “Never mind. I won’t remember them all anyway. If you see someone coming up to speak to us, quickly tell me then.”

  Hans chuckled. “Whatever you say, Schatzi. I’m sure they won’t notice me doing that.”

  Emilee was still looking around. “You don’t talk much about these people. Do you even like them?”

  Hans immediately bristled. “Why would you say that? These are the men I work with.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting that you dislike them, but it seems like you’re not really close friends with many in this inner circle of leader­ship. Are you?”

  Hans sat back, looking around. “A few here, like Adolf’s bodyguards, Ulrich Graf and Christian Weber, are little more than street brawlers in fancy uniforms. I find them quite crude, even offensive, so I don’t have much to do with them. Others I enjoy working with, but I wouldn’t consider them to be close associates. And then there are a few I consider to be genuine friends. But the real question is, how in the world did I end up in this circle?”

  “I have an answer for that,” Emilee said with a smile, “but it would only go to your head.”

  10:58 p.m.

  Stifling a yawn, Emilee looked over at Hans. “We’re not going to make it to midnight,” she whispered. “We’re getting too old for this.”

  “I know,” he said, fighting back a yawn of his own. “We should have had Ernst and Landra call us about now and say that one of the children is sick.”

  Emilee slapped him playfully. “Shame on you.” Then her eyes turned impish. “Could you sneak out and call Ernst now? Tell him to call us in about ten minutes.”

  Hans shook his head ruefully. “Sorry, but we have to stay for Adolf’s speech.”

  She leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Then the next time the waitress comes by, will you ask her for a couple of toothpicks so I can prop my eyelids open?”

  Fortunately, it was only about ten minutes later that Adolf pushed his chair back and stood up. Hans reached over and nudged Emilee, whose eyes were drooping. “Here we go,” he said.

  “Oh, good,” she said. “I’m sorry, Hans. I just can’t stay awake. Can we leave right after?”

  “We’ll see.”

  As he passed their table, Adolf smiled at them. “Good luck,” Hans said.

  The hall quickly quieted as Adolf strode to the stand. The waitresses stopped clearing the tables and went back to the kitchen. Hans reached over and squeezed Emilee’s hands. “He promised me it would be a short speech.” When she smiled broadly, he added, “But for Adolf, two hours is a short speech.” That won him a groan.

  They both turned their chairs around so they were facing the speaker’s stand. To Hans’s surprise, Adolf did something he rarely did. When he reached the podium, he stopped and smiled at his audience. Then he waved. Finally, he began.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, fellow members of the National Socialist Party, happy new year!”

  People raised their steins and shouted the same greeting back at him. Many, both men and women, wore paper hats and carried various kinds of holiday noisemakers. They let them be heard now. Hans had to smile. Judging from how slurred some of the voices were, it would be wise to get off the streets before they started home. But Adolf seemed to be enjoying it, and he continued to smile and wave to all.

  “I shall be brief,” he said when he finally began again, “for this is a time to celebrate, not to pontificate.” He smiled at his little play on words. “Now that I am back from my trip to the northern part of the country, we shall meet together and talk much about what I learned. Shall we say at seven o’clock tomorrow morning?”

  There was a moment of shocked silence, followed by deep groans. Adolf laughed aloud and clapped his hands. “It’s a joke, my friends. Relax. We will not meet until next Monday, so you can enjoy the holidays with your families.”

  Emilee leaned in close. “Has he been drinking? I’ve never seen him quite like this before.”

  “Adolf doesn’t drink,” Hans reminded her. “Oh, perhaps a sip of wine now and then, or a small glass of schnapps. But no, he’s not drunk.”

  Adolf’s smile slowly faded and his expression turned grave. “It was just over six years ago now, on November 8, 1923, here in this very hall, that we made a joyous announcement. We announced that the National Socialist Party, along with the Kampfbund alliance, had just seized power from the Bavarian State Government and would soon thereafter march on Berlin and throw the November bums out.”

  He shook his head sadly. “We were such naive fools back then, I most of all, because less than fourteen hours later, sixteen of our numbers lay dead or dying on the cobblestones of Odeonplatz. Many more were wounded, some so seriously that we didn’t know if they would live or die. Two of those badly wounded heroes are here with us tonight.” He turned and motioned with his hand. “Hermann, stand up. Hans, on your feet.”

  Hans got slowly to his feet and then clapped his hands together as he raised them toward Hermann Goering, who was also up. The applause was instantaneous and warm. Emilee was applauding loudly as she looked up at Hans, her eyes brimming with tears.

  “In addition to those who sacrificed their lives, others were arrested and imprisoned for a time, myself included. I think the government hoped that a year in prison might teach me something about how not to seize power.”

  That won Hitler a spate of laughter. Suddenly he slammed his fist down on the lectern so hard that the whole podium seemed to jump. “And it worked, my friends. It actually did work. Would you like to know what I learned there in Landsberg?”

  “Ja, ja!” someone called.

  “I shall tell you. Near the end of my confinement, my old friend Karl Lüdecke came out to Landsberg to visit me one day.”

  Emilee looked at Hans. “Who is he?” she mouthed.

  He leaned in close. “He’s a writer and a close friend and confidant of Adolf’s.”

  Adolf was looking around. “Karl, I saw you earlier. Stand up, please.” A man in a business suit, who was seated with his wife and two other couples near the back of the circle of tables, got to his feet and waved. “I’m here.”

  “Karl, do you remember what I said to y
ou that day about what I had learned in prison?”

  “I do,” Karl said loudly. “I remember it very clearly, mein Führer. You said, ‘When I resume active work in the party, it will be necessary for us to pursue a new policy, for our old one has failed miserably. Instead of working to achieve power through an armed coup, we shall have to hold our noses and enter into the Reichstag with the Catholic and Marxist and Social Democrat deputies.’”

  That brought a burst of laughter. Adolf was nodding and motioned for him to go on.

  “You also said, as nearly as I can remember, something like this: ‘If out-voting them takes longer than out-shooting them, then at least the final result will be guaranteed by their own constitution, and they cannot throw us in jail.’ And then you added—and I shall never forget this, mein Führer—” He spoke more slowly and distinctly now. “‘Any lawful process is slow, but sooner or later we shall have a majority in the parliament, and after that, we shall have Germany!’”

  People shot up from their seats, shouting and stomping their feet. Hans and Emilee were on their feet as well, applauding wildly. As they sat down a moment later, Hans once again marveled at the oratorical genius of this man. Then, to his surprise, he suddenly realized that Adolf was looking directly at him. “Hans, please stand.”

  Surprised, Hans got slowly to his feet again.

  “Hans is the chairman of our member enlistment program,” Adolf began. “I appointed him to that position not long after my release from jail. Hans, tell them how many members the National Socialist Party had when I was released from prison.”

  “About seventeen thousand.”

  “And how many members did we have by the end of last year?”

  “One hundred and eight thousand, which is a sixfold increase in three years.”

  People cried out in surprise and then applauded loudly.

  “And now, at the end of this year?”

  “We have added another seventy thousand members this year alone. And we project that we shall top three hundred thousand members by the end of the coming year.”

  “Very good, Hans,” Adolf said, shouting over the applause that followed each pronouncement. “Much of that is directly attributable to Hans Eckhardt and his staff.”

  As Hans sat down again, Adolf’s voice rose sharply. “Fortu­nately, our influence is broader than just the number of members who are on our rosters. I am happy to say that in the last several general elections, we have had far more than just our members vote for our party. For example, in the 1924 election, we received almost two million votes. What do you think of that?”

  More enthusiastic applause.

  “And a year ago, in May of 1928, guess how many Germans voted for the National Socialists in the national elections?”

  “Three million!” someone hollered.

  “Ha!” Hitler barked in disgust. “No, my friends, we got 810,000 votes.” As people cried out in dismay, Adolf’s voice crackled with anger. “That’s right! We actually lost over a million votes between those two elections. And do you know what those 800,000 votes bought for us in the Reichstag? Twelve seats. Out of 491, we got twelve.”

  Emilee was shocked. She knew that the Nazis’ popularity had dropped precipitously after the failed coup attempt, but this astounded her.

  “Care to guess how many seats the Communists won at that same time? Fifty-four! An increase of nine over the previous election. How do you feel about that? The Communists are more popular with the people right now than we are. Twelve seats are not enough to even get us permission to sneeze in the hallways of parliament.”

  Hitler was breathing hard now. “So I ask you, is this brilliant new policy of mine working?”

  No one answered. Did they say yes, when it obviously was not true, or no, and risk offending their leader? Adolf quickly answered for them.

  “It . . . is . . . not! Our efforts have been prodigious, and they have paid off in terms of a sharp increase in membership. We are once again attracting large numbers to our flag. And on this recent trip of mine, I also learned that our efforts to set up an organizational structure across the country are bearing fruit. There is still much to do here, of course, but we now have units of the party at the national, state, and local levels. If we ever do come to power, we shall have the structure in place to help us rule. And this is very encouraging to me.”

  He looked down as another smattering of applause rippled around the room, but his face was grim. He took out his handkerchief and wiped at his brow. “So, my fellow Germans, this is our situation. On the one hand, we are growing numerically and organizationally. Yet what do we have to show for the four years of strenuous effort? Twelve seats in parliament!” He threw up his hands. “What is wrong? What more can we do? How do we move forward and upward?” He let his eyes sweep the group, piercing them with the fierceness of his gaze. “Tell me, friends. What more do we need?”

  “A miracle!” Rudolf Hess shouted. “We need a miracle.”

  Hans’s head jerked up. All around him men and women were also registering surprise. But Adolf pounced on the word like a cat on a gopher. “Yes! That is exactly what we need, Rudolf. We need a miracle, and I have been praying for one.”

  Hans was totally stunned. A miracle? Adolf praying? What was next? Asking everyone to get down on their knees and pray with him? Genuflection? Passing a collection plate? Singing a hymn? If it was that, Hans was going to get up and walk out.

  Hans shot Rudolf an incredulous look and was even more taken aback when his friend flashed him a huge grin. And then it hit him. It was a setup. Adolf and Rudolf had rehearsed this. “What do we need?” Adolf cries. “We need a miracle,” Rudolf responds right on cue.

  Hans shook his head in wonder, turning his gaze back to Adolf. What were they up to?

  “Does that surprise you?” Adolf cried out. “To hear me talk about miracles?”

  “You can say that again,” Hans muttered.

  “Shush!” Emilee hissed. “I want to hear this.”

  “Well, that’s what it’s going to take. A miracle. And do you know why? Because the people don’t need us right now. As incredible as it seems, this leftist-leaning group of November criminals who run our government have manipulated events so cleverly that they have pulled our nation back from the brink of total collapse. They have stabilized the currency. Unemployment is down. Goods that were unavailable at any price just two years ago are finally available, and at a reasonable price. Ah, how soon the sheep forget the misery that was theirs such a short time ago.

  “In November 1923, our economy was in utter chaos. People were starving to death with billions of marks in their pockets. Kids were flying kites made from billion-mark notes. And the government stood by and wrung their hands.

  “And so it was that on that night of November eighth six years ago, we stepped into the breach. In this very hall, before four thousand sons and daughters of Germany, we announced that we had seized power from the government of Bavaria and would soon march on Berlin. And how did the people respond to that? With apathy? With a shrug of their shoulders, as they are doing now? No! That night, four thousand people leaped to their feet and roared their approval of what we had done. They stood arm in arm with us. It was a night never to be forgotten, and I weep now to think that I was so foolish, so incredibly shortsighted, as to let that opportunity slip through our fingers.”

  Adolf audibly sighed as he looked around. “And so, here we are tonight, just minutes away from the beginning of a new year. What will this coming year hold for the Nazi Party? I cannot say, but this much I know: if we have any hope at all of moving our cause forward, we must have the people with us. We must! My dear friend Rudolf says that we need a miracle, and though he’s right in a way, I think that perhaps there is a better way to say it.” There was a long pause as Hitler let his eyes sweep from face to face. “I think what we really need is something more a
long the lines of a disaster. No, more than that. A catastrophic disaster!”

  Hans’s head jerked up sharply. His eyes had been getting heavy and his attention had started to lag, but those words brought him back with a start. And he wasn’t the only one. Shock and soft cries of dismay were erupting all around. People were gaping at their Führer as if he had gone mad. Hans turned to Emilee, who was staring at Hitler with that same look of utter disbelief. “What did he just say?” Hans whispered.

  Emilee didn’t hear him. Her gaze was riveted on Adolf. Her face showed a look of horror.

  Adolf watched the reaction of the crowd with a wry smile. “I thought that might get your attention,” he mused. Then he picked up a sheet of paper. “Last night, as I was thinking about our situation, two thoughts came to me. I wrote them down, and I should like to read them to you. Perhaps then you will better understand what I am about to say.”

  Adolf lifted the paper, waited for the people to quiet, and then read in a loud voice but with slow and measured words. “‘All great movements are popular movements. They are driven by the people. They are the volcanic eruptions of human passions and emotions, stirred into activity by the ruthless Goddess of Human Distress, which is heightened by the torch of the spoken word being cast into the midst of the people.’”

  He looked around, letting his words sink in for a moment. Then he went on. “‘All propaganda has to be popular, that is, aimed at the people, and it has to accommodate itself to the comprehension of the least intelligent of those it reaches. By the skillful and sustained use of propaganda, one can make the people see even heaven as a hell, or even hell as a paradise.’”

  Adolf looked up from his paper. “Think about that. People don’t revolt when their bellies are full and their wallets are fat. Revolts don’t begin in heaven; they start in hell. But even in hell, until someone rises up and tells the people how wretched they are and that they do not have to endure such deplorable conditions, they will not rise against their masters.”