Rastenburg, Eastern Prussia.
In the Wolfschanze inner zone confusion reigned. A group of survivors and guards had carried the crumbled form of Adolf Hitler to the safety of a nearby bunker where a medical orderly desperately began checking for vital signs. With more than two years practical experience on the Eastern front, injuries such as these did not shock him. However, the fact that his patient was the Führer did nothing to help his concentration. He directed an SS guard to cut away the torn trousers as he carefully checked the Führer's pulse and opened an eyelid. Adolf Hitler was alive! But only just. Blood was seeping from both ears. Small amounts, but most likely both eardrums were punctured. If he recovered Adolf Hitler would most probably be almost deaf. Dozens of wooden splinters had penetrated the Führer's skin and the rate of blood loss made it very obvious that at least one of them had found a major vein or artery. Slowly he began extracting the smaller fragments from the most profusely bleeding wounds. If he did not find the major injury in time the Führer might bleed to death.
Fellgiebel was cursing silently as he supervised the shut-down of the Wolfsschanze communications. The bloody SS lieutenant who had burst into his office shouting that someone had attempted to kill the Führer had arrived too soon for him to get to Olbricht and talk in the clear. Not only had the lanky bastard, whose officer cap had presumably been lost in the confusion, forgotten to salute but he had also insisted on staying to assure himself that all communications would be cut as per standing order. Fellgiebel had not dared to close the door of his office for fear that the highly agitated officer would come bursting through any second. He should have been more direct rather than leaving Olbricht with such a vague message. The words he had chosen had been designed to throw any listener off.
'All lines down Herr General' His second in command reported as irritated as Fellgiebel at the SS man's continued presence.
'Thanks Karl you may go.' A glare at the black uniform 'You too!'
'Herr General, my orders are to ensure that this location and its lines remain secure until we have determined what happened.' The SS lieutenant, though visibly shaken by events, held his ground. Now he took strength from carrying out an order. From the dust on his uniform Fellgiebel surmised he must have been close to the explosion. The lack of decorations on the tunic suggested that he had not done time on the front. These were the men most likely to react irrational to a stress situation. And unfortunately also those least likely to respect a Wehrmacht uniform, even that of a general officer with some hardware on his chest. Nevertheless he had to try.
'There are other lines that must be secured.' Fellgiebel was on safe ground now determined to assert himself. Like most Wehrmacht officers he found the SS men and their military pretensions difficult to stomach. He had the man's immediate attention. "They must be cut! Herr General where are they? '
'Those lines run from the offices of the Reichsmarschall Göring and Reichsführer SS Himmler as well as Grand Admiral Dönitz. I cannot cut them from here.'
'Send some men to see to it Herr General'
'You, ' Fellgiebel was on his feet in an instance. 'Who are you to give orders around here. I am in command of Wolfsschanze communications. I will make the decisions around here.'
'I meant no offence Herr General' The lieutenant backed away slightly. 'But those lines must be monitored. '
'Why don't you get some of your men to do it? Herr Leutnant! It would be the easiest way to get rid of the bastard. Instead the SS officer merely reached for the phone. "Connect me to the Watch house 3' he instructed one of the switchboard operators.
Two minutes later he put the phone down. 'The matter is being attended to Herr General.' With those words and to Fellgiebel’s utter dismay he settled into a chair. There was no way to contact Berlin now.
While the orderly was busy attending to the Führer's wounds, the paladins of the Third Reich vented their frustration on each other. Göring with his imposing bulk staged a brief attempt at assuming military control of the situation. But his orders to a group of SS men to form a protective cordon around the bunker where the injured leader was being attended to was met with passive resistance. It took Bormann and the hastily summoned Himmler – whose offices had been too far away to hear the explosion - to bring order into the milling black uniforms in the Security Zone of the Wolf's Lair.
Göring was barely able to restrain himself. While he harboured a healthy degree of fear of Himmler and his desk-top murder methods, his loathing for Bormann whom he held responsible for systematically undermining his image with the Führer, gave him temporary strength and courage. 'The Führer is badly injured. He cannot attend to his duties temporarily. Whoever is behind this will attempt to take maximum advantage of the situation. We must not appear leaderless, we must not be taken by surprise now. This is a military threat to the Reich. By the powers granted to me under the Constitution and by the Führer himself, I will assume authority until the Führer is able to resume his duties.'
Bormann drew himself up to his full height - which meant his eyes drew level with Goring’s chin. He had always hated Göring his posturing, his excessive fetish for ornaments and decorations, but most of all Bormann hated Göring as a rival for Hitler's favour. Göring with his aristocratic pretensions, his connections among Europe's elite was everything he the street-fighting strongman of working-class parents would never be, never wanted to be, and yet resented that he could not be.
'Reichsmarschall there is no need to panic. The guards are in control and the Führer's doctors are on their way. Providence is with us. It will reward those who stand steadfast in the face of adversity.' The look he gave Göring was one of deep contempt.
The garb stung but Göring was not about to back down. A glance at Himmler who stood talking on the telephone in a corner of the hut showed him that there would be little interference from that angle for the moment. He attacked. 'The Constitution of the Reich is clear: I will stand in as the Führer's deputy until he resumes his duties. You intend to challenge me? You intend to challenge the Führer's wishes.'
Bormann, never one to take undue risks but determined to thwart Göring's attempt at glory did not back down. Instead he played for time. 'We must not squabble. The Reich needs us to stand firm. Our first duty is to protect the Führer from any further danger and to discover the true extent of this threat.'
' And it seems we already have a lead....' Heinrich Himmler was cleaning his glasses as he joined them, an evil grin on his otherwise bland, pale face.
20 July, 15:45 hours
Rangsdorff Military Airfield
Outside Berlin
The Heinkel 111 had hardly stopped moving when von Haeften was out of the plane and charging towards the small pre-fabricated control shack at the end of the runway. By the time he pushed open its flimsy door, he was breathing hard. The aircraft had encountered serious headwinds on the flight back from Rastenburg. They had been in the air for nearly two-and-a-half hours and out of contact with the conspirators in Berlin. There was no telling what might have happened. The fact that there had been no SS reception committee had been a good sign.
'I need to use your phone urgently he barked.' at the surprised Luftwaffe dispatcher who scrambled to attention.
'In the passage Herr Leutnant'
Werner almost leapt at the phone 'Armed Forces High Command Headquarters, Bendlerstrasse, NOW.' It took two seemingly endless minutes before he got through and was connected with General Olbricht.
With the airfield dispatcher in earshot Werner had to be circumspect. 'von Haeften here Herr General. Colonel von Stauffenberg and I have just landed after a successful mission to Rastenburg. The Colonel would like an update on your progress.'
'von Haeften. Its good to hear from you. You're at Rangsdorff? Good! What happened at Rastenburg. ? The General's voice carried with it a sense of nervous relief.
'Herr General, our mission in Rastenburg was a success, like I said. But please what is your update for Colonel von Stauffenberg.?'
'Tell Claus that Valkyre One went out an hour ago. Things were a bit confused here, Fellgiebel called ..'
'An hour, sir !' Werner was taken aback. A quick glance in the direction of the orderly told him that the man was engrossed in some glossy propaganda rag. 'It is now almost 16 00 hours. Are you sure it has not been longer?'
Like I said von Haeften, things are a bit confused here, we ..'
'Thank you, General!' Werner was fighting to control his voice 'The Colonel and I will be there within 35 minutes please proceed with all actions.' The receiver came down so hard the hook nearly cracked. 'Thank you' Werner shouted as he charged out the door. With a long leap he dove into the waiting Tatra staff car, his face red with rage and adrenaline.
'The gutless swine only got going an hour ago!' He hissed. Stauffenberg's eyebrow shot up. 'What's wrong?'
Too agitated to consider his response the eager Lieutenant growled 'Olbricht babbled something about a confused situation... ' He glared at his boss 'Frankly I think the General had a case of nerves. Comes from not having been at the front enough.'
'Not another word, Werner. Olbricht might be a desk man but he's with us.' To the driver he added ' Sepp step on it as if the fate of Germany depended on it!'
July 20 15:50hours
War Ministry, Bendlerstrasse
Berlin
A relieved Olbricht stuck his head into the Communications Room. 'A successful mission' could only mean one thing. Nevertheless his heart nearly stopped from what he saw. There were more than twenty teletypes but only five of them seemed to be operational.
'What's going on here?' he demanded from the watch officer ' Why are these units not transmitting the Valkyre order? The young officer straightened up ' There are only four staff cleared for Top Secret communications Sir. Your aide brought the order with a Top Secret classification.'[24]
Olbricht stared at the man in disbelief. The devil was always in the details. Unless all teletypes were used, it would take three to four hours to communicate with all Wehrmacht Commanders. Enough time for any suspicious SS man or Nazi-big shot to start checking and organising a counter-stroke. 'Scrap the Top Secret. This needs to reach everyone bloody yesterday. Get all your staff onto it. Never mind whether they are cleared or not or even if they can read. My authorization. NOW'
'Jawohl Herr General' Three minutes later all teletypers were buzzing.
It was 16:25 when Stauffenberg's vehicle came to a screeching halt in the courtyard of the Bendlerstrasse. The Colonel and von Haeften pounded up the stairs to the first floor where Olbricht rushed into the corridor to meet them.
'Where is General Fromm.' Stauffenberg barked breathless. Fromm was the Commander of the Replacement Army, in theory Olbricht’s boss and in charge of Bendlerstrasse.
'The General is under arrest. He chose to put his faith in the Führer. Is the Führer dead? If he is not we will soon be.' Olbricht was pale.
Stauffenberg brushed him aside ' I saw the explosion, General, the bombs tore the place apart like a 150mm artillery shell. There were no survivors. I saw them carry the Führer's body away.'
'Are you sure?'
'Before Stauffenberg could reply, Werner cut in impatiently. 'We both saw the body. We've seen combat casualties before, ... many combat casualties. ' He glared at Olbricht daring the General who had been away from the front longer than him to contradict him.' Hitler is dead. It is the delays on your side that could get us killed if anything. What is the progress of the various units?'
'Here let me show you.' Olbricht led the way into his office. Here Colonel Mertz had spread a city map over a table and begun marking the advances of the various units on whom the success of Valkyre now depended. With him was Colonel-General Beck, until 1938 Wehrmacht Chief of Staff when he resigned in protest against Hitler's war policy. Since then he had been the senior officer in the Widerstand. When Stauffenberg entered, the diminutive, but stern man was on the phone to Paris, using his seniority to move events along in France where the conspiracy was particularly strong.
Scanning the map, Stauffenberg and von Haeften listened to Mertz brief update. Despite Olbricht’s delay the situation was encouraging. The troops of Berlin's City Commander, Lieutenant-General von Hase had been alerted. von Hase had instructed the commander of the Berlin Guard Battalion, Major Remer, to secure the government quarter and the main arteries leading to it. Arthur Nebe, Head of Germany's civil police and a member of the conspiracy had also moved more than 4 000 police- and firemen into the city to secure other strategic sites.
What worried Stauffenberg most was that the Replacement Panzergrenadier Brigade 'Grossdeutschland' had yet to move on the Deutschland sender, Germany's central radio broadcast station. Likewise the Valkyre units from the Infantry school at Döberitz, and the Panzer Training academy at Krampnitz had not yet taken seized their assigned radio stations. However, two Grenadier Battalions were on their way to support the Guard Battalion's cordon around the government quarter. Slowly, ever so hesitantly, Valkyre was falling into place.
Outside of Berlin the situation was much brighter. Beck reported that both Paris and Rommel's Army Group B had put Valkyre orders into effect. The last of the SS and police commanders in Paris were being rounded up at this very moment. The Waffen-SS units under Rommel's command remained at the front and were not giving any trouble. The only one vacillation was the C-i-C Western Front, Rommel's superior Field Marshal von Kluge. But with Rommel confirming that he had the loyalty of all his divisional commanders and that Sepp Dietrich was talking to the Waffen-SS officers, this was not a priority for the moment. The Western Front was with Valkyre.
Exhausted Stauffenberg slumped into a chair 'Werner I could really use a drink.' For a few moments fatigue threatened to overwhelm him before the fire returned to his eye once more. He nodded to a concerned Beck 'I'll be all right. We will rest tomorrow.' From the window Olbricht motioned the Colonel. 'You may want to see this.'
Down in the road troop trucks pulled up, soldiers in combat dress leapt out and took up positions around the entrance and along the canal that lined the Bendlerstrasse. Sandbags were unloaded and machinegun emplacements set up. 'Two Company Guard Battalion' Stauffenberg smiled at Olbricht 'Right on schedule. That's the good thing about dedicated Nazis like Major Remer. Orders are orders. He doesn't have to think. Now General' he turned to Olbricht' I suggest we send Valkyre Order 2.
FROM OKW BERLIN TO COMMANDERS IN CHIEF ALL MILITARY DISTRICTS.
THE FUHRER IS DEAD. NONCOMBATANT NSDAP LEADERS AND SS OFFICERS ARE ATTEMPTING TO EXPLOIT THE SITUATION RESULTING FROM THE FUHRER'S DEATH.
THE FOLLOWING ARE TO BE REMOVED IMMEDIATELY FROM THEIR POSTS AND PLACED UNDER ARREST: ALL NSDAP GAULEITERS, REICHSGOVERNORS, SENIOR SS AND POLICE LEADERS, GESTAPO LEADERS AND CHIEFS OF SS AND PROPAGANDA OFFICES.
ALL CONCENTRATION CAMPS ARE TO BE OCCUPIED AND THE GUARDS CONFINED TO BARRACKS.THE PRISONERS MUST BE INFORMED THAT THEY MUST ABSTAIN FROM ANY ACTIONS UNTIL THEIR DISCHARGE.
THE EXECUTIVE AUTHORITIES-DESIGNATE ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MAINTENANCE OF TRAFFIC AND SUPPLY ORGANIZATIONS, FOR THE MAINTENANCE OF PUBLIC ORDER AND SAFETY, FOR THE SECURITY OF ALL SIGNALS INSTALLATIONS.
COMMANDERS ARE INSTRUCTED TO STRESS THE LEGALITY AND LAWFULLNESSOF THEIR ACTIONS TO THEIR TROOPS AND THE POPULATION AT ALL TIMES AND TO CONDUCT THEMSELVES IN ACCORDANCE WITH THIS.
July 20 16:05hours
Hitler’s Headquarters 'Wolfsschanze'
Rastenburg, Eastern Prussia.
A sharp pain shot through his body wrenching his out of unconsciousness. He was lying on his back but Adolf Hitler could not see the sky. Around him figures moved, some seemed to be holding him. Who were they? His eyes refused to focus. He tried to push himself erect. Two of the figures held him down. As through a curtain he heard them talking, but could not make out what they were saying.
Totally disoriented by the ruptured eardrums and partially blinded by bad cuts in the face that only amplified his near-sightedness, Adolf Hitler t
hrashed around desperately as the orderly pulled another wooden fragment from his upper leg. Dr Hasselbach, the camp physician had administered an injection the moment the unconscious patient had shown signs of reviving. Any movement increased the risk of further internal injuries. With a wet sucking sound a pen-sized wooden splinter came out of the Führer's intestinal area. This was at least the tenth major piece and Hasselbach had been at it for nearly an hour. The doctor and the orderly exchanged worried looks over the blood-soaked splinter. It had gone deep enough to damage internal organs. Blood poisoning or internal bleeding would follow, both fatal. There was no way of knowing. Hasselbach tossed the fragment aside and reached for the next one just as Dr Morell entered the room.
Few people in Hitler's entourage evoked as much disgust as his personal physician. A gross and physically dirty man, who after limited success in mainstream medicine and a squashed conviction for medical malpractice, had specialised in venereal diseases, the tall figure with its balding head looked badly out of place in the crumpled SS uniform which the Führer had allowed him to don over Himmler's frustrated opposition. Morrell, had caught Hitler’s attention through his ability to use haphazard variety of narcotics, diluted poisons, stimulants, and aphrodisiacs about whose long-term effects he knew little, to cure short-term pains and aliments. Practitioners like the medic knew that through these daily injections and regular doses of pills Morell had to all intents and purposes made Adolf Hitler a drug addict. Few people at the Wolfs Lair had ever availed themselves of his services.
Hasselbach and the medic felt their hearts sink as Dr Morrell lowered his doughy bulk down to the stretcher on which the Führer was being treated. His SS uniform, adorned with all sorts of fictitious medical medals could not hide the fact that he was considerably overweight. A cross between a bullfrog and a bulldog, and an ugly bullfrog at that, the medic thought as he watched the doctor squint at the Führer's shape through his thick round, dark-rimmed glasses. The man stank of stale smoke and liquor. It explained why he had taken so long to respond to the emergency.
The Valkyrie Option Page 7
