by P. G. Glynn
With the swastikas and eagles arrayed behind him and with his face emitting a pale glow the Fuehrer had waited for the last echoes of the ‘Heils!’ to die before he spoke. His tone was so mesmeric and his message so compelling that well before the end Fritz was convinced Hitler had succeeded Christ as Saviour. Yes, he was witness to the Second Coming – and how privileged he was, to witness it! Fritz was still awed by his privilege and by the extent of his commitment to the man who had mapped out the path to Germany’s golden future. He would do anything for the Fuehrer – die for him if need be. Death would be a small price to pay for his new sense of identity and for Hitler’s promise of a great and glorious destiny. Was it any wonder that Fritz was now proud to claim German nationality?
He was also inordinately proud to wear the brown shirt and tie that advertised his cohesion with the Party. Fritz’s cousin, Claus, had told him why the SA shirts were brown. It was because a consignment intended for German troops in Africa had misrouted and been sold off cheaply: a fact not generally known. The price had dictated the colour, funds being low. To swell the funds the Party needed men like Ludwig.
Fritz had sent him a copy of MEIN KAMPF, which had been published by Eher last year and secured thousands of new followers for the Fuehrer. With the book Fritz had sent a note saying that it was a bible for lost souls and that he had found himself since becoming a supporter of Adolf Hitler.
Ludwig was clearly intrigued for he had suggested meeting Fritz for a beer tomorrow evening and while making the suggestion had said that he had read the book, admitting (albeit grudgingly) that he was impressed by its author. Well no question but that he would be still more impressed by the time Fritz had finished with him. As for when Ludwig met the Fuehrer …
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Ludwig was looking forward to seeing Fritz. It was good to have a friend here in Munich for since Lenka’s admission to Dr Loehry’s Clinic he had been feeling distinctly friendless. In fact his feeling went back before that, to Mama’s reaction and her subsequent banishment of him and Lenka. He felt like a pariah, which was not fair considering that he himself had not had a hand in Carla’s death. He strongly suspected that had Otto been married to Lenka, Mama would have been far more sympathetic. There was never any escaping the suspicion that Mama would forgive Otto anything … and love him, whatever he or his precious Marie did. Was it Ludwig’s fancy, or had Mama now and then looked at him with loathing?
He must have imagined it, for without her love he simply could not exist: an admission that held him continually in check, stopping him doing things he would otherwise have done. Killing Otto and his stupid son would long since have proved pure pleasure, but for the fear of losing Mama’s love …
As well as his sense of alienation from Mama he had to contend with his worries over Lenka. She had gone again to where he could not reach her and his heart broke afresh each time he went to see her. The cowering creature in the Clinic was not his beautiful Lenka and yet he and she (both of her) were bonded together forever. He loved her whatever she did, whatever she became when her second self held precedence. But the loving took its toll on him and the fear of losing her permanently was hard to bear. He did his best to submerge his fears and refuse to consider any possibility that she might never leave the Clinic … never revert to the Lenka he had married. That Lenka still existed, if hidden within, and he had to hang on to the fact that Christoph Loehry was the man who would bring her back. Meanwhile Ludwig was glad of Fritz Meyer’s companionship and of his interest in Lenka’s welfare. Nobody else was interested. Yes, it was good to have a friend … and the book Fritz had given him made fascinating reading.
MY STRUGGLE by Adolf Hitler had left Ludwig feeling curiously as if he and the author were kindred spirits. They shared the same likes and dislikes … they wanted the same things from life. Truth to tell, Ludwig had not known what he wanted until he read MEIN KAMPF, but now that he had read it he knew beyond doubt that he wanted exactly what Hitler did.
Previously, Ludwig’s sole knowledge of Hitler had been based on a variety of items in newspapers. He had naturally read of the abortive Beer Hall Putsch resulting in a stay in Landsberg Prison – and had concluded then that the man was an idiot. Now, having absorbed and pondered the wise words Hitler had written, Ludwig was certain that he was not. And it was odd, but while reading he could have sworn he heard a battle song sounding in his head as if sung by a thousand men:
‘Swastika on helmet,
Armband black-white-red,
Storm Detachment Hitler
Is our name’
But where had it come from … and why had it come? Ludwig could make no sense of its origins … but nothing had ever made more sense to him than Hitler’s logic. Reading MY STRUGGLE had been a little like looking inside his own head and seeing finally that he was the visionary he had always thought himself to be. Lebensraum was an obvious concept and essential for Germany: and hadn’t Ludwig always been anti-Semitic? Yes, against popular trends, he had always said that Jews were no better than pigs. And now here was Hitler vowing to cleanse the world of Jewry! Ludwig certainly shared the Fuehrer’s dreams.
Strange that Fritz had described MEIN KAMPF as a bible for lost souls and that the book should have reached Ludwig just as he was feeling at his most lost. Or perhaps it was not strange. Perhaps it was Fate stepping in to help him change direction and become finally the man he had long believed he could be …
“Ludwig … wie geht’s?” Hearing Fritz Meyer’s voice before seeing him, Ludwig hesitated on the bottom step of the beer cellar and peered through the tobacco smoke while his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior. Then he spotted his friend rising from a chair by a far pillar and striding confidently toward him past fellow beer-drinkers, many wearing brown shirts like Fritz’s he noticed. “It’s so good to see you again.”
There was sincerity in Fritz’s tone and as they shook hands Ludwig experienced a warm feeling. It made a pleasant change from the coldness he had been experiencing and he was warmed further by the golden brew with which Fritz soon furnished him. The two men made small talk, touching briefly on Lenka’s state of health, until Ludwig observed casually: “You’re wearing your uniform, I see.”
“Natuerlich!” I’m proud to wear it. And,” Fritz gestured around him, “you’ll have seen that I’m in good company.”
“This man Hitler has clearly made a big impression on you.”
“As he does on everyone who comes within his shadow. That is as far as anyone can come, my friend! Our Fuehrer is in a class far removed from the common man. But you know that, don’t you? No-one who has read his book could fail to know.”
Ludwig, having problems with the term common being applied even loosely to him, commented: “No, I don’t know! Who does the upstart think he is?”
Fritz at once saw his error and said: “I’m not speaking here about breeding but about a … a calling. I’m convinced that Adolf Hitler has been called to lead Germany and perhaps the world to a bright new future. He’s no upstart. He’s a born leader … and don’t forget that Jesus Christ was the son of a carpenter.”
“You’re likening him to Christ? I see that as blasphemous.”
“I would, too, in your shoes – for you have not been to a Party Meeting. Until I went, I had no conception of what lay ahead for me but once I was there, seeing and hearing him for myself, I could easily make the comparison. I didn’t doubt for a single minute that I was in the presence of someone sent by God to improve mankind’s lot.” His eyes glowed incandescently as he leaned across the table to say: “And I wanted to be part of those improvements, my friend – an integral part. There seemed to be no other course for me: there was no other course. I am a new man and I’m as I am solely because I’ve pledged myself to Adolf Hitler. I know that I’m in good hands, you see … because I’m in his hands.”
Ludwig wanted to be renewed … wanted it so desperately that he felt a fierce envy of Fritz. “Is there to be another Party Meeting soon?”
he asked him.
“I’m afraid not.” Fritz paused to let this sink in. As it did he observed Ludwig’s dejection. “My Fuehrer is currently in retreat in Berchtesgaden, his auxiliary headquarters, enjoying some freedom from the pressures of office while he writes the second volume of MEIN KAMPF. He will be expounding his philosophy, friend, about a bigger Germany – one where there’s room for expansion and for every man to have the living space that is his true entitlement. There will be more too, I’m sure, about a Germany that’s totally free of Jews.” He paused again and then said: “I have the impression that you wouldn’t be averse to such freedom?”
“Quite correct!” Ludwig spat phlegm on to the cellar floor and said: “Jews are scum, the lot of them. I’d welcome their extinction. And, now that we’ve chatted, I’d welcome an audience with Herr Hitler … just,” he coughed, “to assess him first-hand for myself. What’s to stop my going to Berchtesgaden to meet him?”
Fritz had little dreamed that it would be this simple to recruit Ludwig. His own promotion to a higher rank already beckoned him. “You’d be asking the impossible,” he said, frowning, “but for the fact that I happen to have a certain amount of influence. I can use it, if you wish, to discover whether my Fuehrer would be willing to meet with you in Obersalzberg. Of course these days he’s so sought after that he only sees … ”
“Use all your influence, please!” Ludwig butted in impatiently, irked by Fritz’s repeated references to his leader. Knowing full well that he wanted to claim Hitler for himself he said: “I must meet the man who plans to liberate Germany, in the hope that he can also liberate me.”
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As the red Mercedes bringing him to Berchtesgaden purred to a standstill, Ludwig saw Adolf Hitler emerge on to Haus Wachenfeld’s wooden verandah. He was surprised to see that the Party Leader was wearing Lederhosen since these were quite out of keeping with the image Ludwig - feeling overdressed in the formal dark suit he had selected for this meeting – had of him. And the wooden villa itself – which, he was to learn later, the NSDAP rented from a Party member for one hundred Marks per month – was astonishing in its degree of modesty. It was considerably more modest than the Berger ski-cabin on the slopes of the Schneekoppe. Ludwig had expected much grander quarters for a man of Hitler’s stature. He had also expected the Fuehrer to be taller.
As, assisted by the chauffeur, he alighted from the car and Herr Hitler stepped off the verandah, Ludwig saw that he himself was the taller man by several centimetres. He was relieved that, before shaking hands, his host called two menacing guard-dogs to heel. One of these was a German shepherd, the other an indeterminate breed. Until Hitler’s “Still!” they had both been baring their teeth.
The Fuehrer, whose square black moustache filled the space between his nostrils and upper lip and whose dark hair was well greased, struck Ludwig as a dapper little man who should not be revealing his knobbly knees. The greetings over, Hitler suggested a walk to stretch his guest’s legs after the car journey, adding: “I also wish to show you something.”
Intrigued, Ludwig fell into step beside the Fuehrer, whose piercing blue eyes seemed to see right through him. It was exhilarating to be up there, breathing fresh mountain air and socialising with the man who was mapping Germany’s future. Perhaps the most interesting aspect was the degree of power Fritz Meyer must have within the Party, to have been able to arrange this meeting – and so quickly. Ludwig had obviously underestimated Fritz. And he must not let his first impressions of unsuitably shabby surroundings and casual dress cloud his perceptions of Adolf Hitler.
Remembering he was addressing the author of MEIN KAMPF he said at the first opportunity: “I understand from my friend Fritz that you are here in Obersalzberg principally to write a second volume on the subject of your stirring fight.”
“Doch! You have of course read the first volume.”
“I didn’t so much read as devour it.” Noticing that he had brought a smile to Hitler’s thin lips Ludwig was encouraged to enlarge a little: “Your philosophies agree with mine, exactly. It is quite uncanny how alike we are in our thinking. As I read, I wanted more and more to shake the hand of the man who thought so much as I did.”
“You are an industrialist?”
Wondering whether Hitler saw that as a good or a bad thing, Ludwig answered him: “I am. My family is highly thought of in Czechoslovakia for its various industries … and I personally can take credit for helping to build our business empire into its present size and state of health.”
“So you are a very busy man, Herr Berger?”
“Not too busy to … to be of service to you, mein Fuehrer.”
“Gut … gut … sehr gut!” Hitler nodded his head repeatedly as he expressed his pleasure. “You see, put simply, I need a man in Czechoslovakia. He has to be someone I can trust to advise me honestly on the state of affairs there. But … he also needs to be someone prepared to work without a salary. We are not a rich Party, as you will have seen. Whether, if picked for this important task, you would agree … ”
Trying not to appear too eager, Ludwig interrupted: “I am a wealthy man and, if picked, would not dream of taking money from the NSDAP.” A sudden brainwave hit him: “I could, in fact, give funds to the Party. How would that be?”
Hitler did not answer directly. Instead he stopped walking and gazed about him at the spectacular mountainous scenery. With the late spring sunshine highlighting distant snowy peaks and with neighbouring hills surging around them in a series of dramatic ridges, he raised one hand and pointed, saying: “Those are the two mountains I wished to show you. I can see them from my study window in Haus Wachenfeld but we can observe them better from here. Notice how they are twins: the same height, the same dimensions? Mountains, to my mind, are there for climbing and for a long time I’ve wanted to climb them both. It was only very recently that an extraordinary realisation struck me. Since we think similarly I feel it appropriate to share my new perception with you, Herr Berger.”
As Adolf Hitler spoke he used his hands graphically and now brought these together as if bringing the two mountains close enough for them to merge into one. “You see the path we are on? If we were to follow it to its logical conclusion we would stand on just one mountaintop. I shall explain my meaning.” Now words were beginning to tumble from him. “For me, you see, the first mountain represented the conquering of new living space in the East while the second stood for the very necessary annihilation of Jews. Those capitalists and holders of power are, it goes without saying, a threat to our culture and to our very existence – so, for Germany to have the future that’s due to her, they must be wiped out. It was a revelation when, after months of thought, I suddenly saw that the two mountains are not, after all, separate – nor even just parallel.”
He was impassioned now, his hands as active as his mouth. “They are so interrelated that they cannot be separated. The Reich must acquire essential living space or it will perish – and, integrally to that, unless we can rid ourselves of the Jewish menace there can be no struggle for Lebensraum, no culture and our nation will similarly decay. Thus the mountains are entwined and, though it is high, I have in fact just one mountain to climb. Does that make as much sense to you, Herr Berger, as it does to me?”
Ludwig had not followed the Fuehrer’s reasoning entirely but he had seen the light. It was as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes revealing the secret of life. “It does,” he agreed fervently, “and I want more than anything to help your ascent. But I do have one question. Like you, I abominate Jews. All things Jewish are abhorrent to me and always have been. So I share your aims completely. You have publicly stated, though, that Christ was the greatest early fighter in the battle against the world enemy, the Jews – and that the work he started but could not finish you will conclude. You’ve even described Jews as his archenemy … yet surely Jesus himself was a Jew?”
“Indeed he was not!” Adolf responded. “Jesus was a Mischling. Because he was immaculately conceive
d he had just two Jewish grandparents, you see. So he was a half-Jew who did not practise the Jewish religion and who was consequently free of the Jewish virus.”
“I do see,” said Ludwig, feeling relieved. His question had been answered more or less satisfactorily. He was now free to follow Adolf Hitler wherever he led – to the ends of the earth, if necessary. But he didn’t yet know whether the Fuehrer wanted him as a follower. Trying to avoid any hint of bribery he recapped on the discussion they had had earlier: “If picked for the task in Czechoslovakia, how would it be if I were to help fund your Party?”
“That would be … acceptable to me.”
“You mean …?”
“Yes, Herr Berger … I have decided, thanks to my assessment of you and our fruitful discussion, that you’re the man to sit at my right hand and keep me, personally, informed of … developments in your country.”
Filled with a kind of ecstasy, Ludwig fell to his knees. “I’m left in no doubt now that you are Christ’s worthy successor … and as your disciple, mein Fuehrer, I offer my allegiance and promise to serve you well for the rest of my life.”
Adolf Hitler patted Ludwig Berger’s bowed head and smiled.
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