Gregory had his hand stretched out towards one of the windows in the little room. But at the Count’s cry he remained transfixed.
Sabine’s voice came through the velvet curtains, ‘Hitler dead! No! How? Surely no-one could have got into his headquarters and shot him. A stroke?’
‘No. It was a bomb. At least I think so. No details are known yet. But he’s dead. He must be. The codeword Walküre has been sent out. That makes it certain. I received it in my office twenty minutes ago, and I left at once to let you know.’
‘You were in the plot, then?’
‘Yes. Several times recently arrangements have been made to assassinate the swine, but they couldn’t be carried through because of his habit of altering his day’s schedule at the last moment. There were difficulties about the bomb, too. Our German fuses hiss when they are started, so a package containing one would attract attention. But British fuses are worked by acid. They are started by breaking a glass capsule containing the acid and in a given time it eats through a wire. That’s how I was brought into it. In my laboratory I have captured explosives as well as our own with which to experiment. I supplied the fuses. But they meant to get him this time, anyhow. If the bomb didn’t go off it was intended to shoot him.’
‘Kurt, I think you might have told me about this.’ Sabine’s voice sounded a trifle peevish.
‘My dear, I couldn’t,’ he replied apologetically. ‘All of us took an oath of secrecy. And I was never in the inner ring; so I didn’t know that another attempt was to be made today or who the gallant fellow is that did this splendid deed. But what’s that matter? We’re free! Free from that gutter-bred monster at last!’
‘How about the others, though?’ Sabine asked. ‘Himmler? Goebbels? Goering? They won’t give in without making a fight for it.’
‘Don’t worry. They’ll be taken care of. That was the object of sending out the codeword Walküre. By now the Generals who are in this will have taken over at the War Office. The Guard Battalion will be in possession of key points like the Broadcasting Station, and troops from the Tank and Artillery Schools will be marching on Berlin.’
‘Who is responsible for the Putsch?’
‘Colonel-General Ludwig Beck; and he has the support of many others who refused to kowtow to Hitler: Field Marshal von Witzleben, who is to become Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces; Halder, who’ll probably be chosen as Chief of the General Staff; Hoeppner, Olbricht, Fellgiebel, Oster, Hase, Wagner and Admiral Canaris. A number of our ablest younger officers are in it too: Merz von Quirnheim, Claus Schenk von Stauffenberg, Fabian von Schlabrendorff and Henning von Tresckow. It was he who put the bomb in Hitler’s ’plane when he went to the Eastern front, though, of course, I couldn’t tell you so at the time. Both the Police Chiefs, Count Helldorf and Artur Nebe, are with us; and several of the Army Commanders at the fronts, Von Kluge and Rommel among them. As Military Governors in France and Belgium, Stuelpnagel and Falkenhausen have promised to arrest all the Nazis in Paris and Brussels. Everything has been thought of. We have nothing to fear.’
Gregory had turned and taken a silent step back towards the curtains. Peering through the narrow gap between them while von Osterberg reeled off this impressive list of names, he took stock of the aristocrat-scientist who was still Erika’s husband. It was two and a half years since he had seen the Count and in that time von Osterberg had aged considerably. He was of medium height, thin and his hair had turned nearly white. He looked a good sixty, but he was still a handsome man, apart from a scar that seamed the left side of his face from eyebrow to chin. Gregory had given him that for his cowardice in succumbing to pressure from the Gestapo and luring Erika back into Germany so that she might be held as a hostage for her English lover.
Hurriedly von Osterberg was going on, ‘Beck is to be the new German Head of State; but only temporarily till we have the situation well in hand and have come to terms with the Anglo-Americans to help us stave off a Russian invasion. In spite of that fool Roosevelt having made it so difficult for us to negotiate by his announcement at Casablanca about insisting on “unconditional surrender”, they can’t refuse to treat us reasonably now we’ve got rid of the Nazis. And the last thing they want is to have Germany, Austria and Hungary fall into the hands of the Communists. But we’re all against a permanent military dictatorship. As soon as we have cleared up the mess Karl Goerdeler will take over from Beck and form a coalition government, including the Socialist leaders as well as Popitz, Schacht, Donhanyi, von Hassell and our other friends. Then there will be free elections again. But I’ll be able to tell you more late tonight or tomorrow morning. I only looked in just to give you the great news. I’m on my way into Berlin to find out how things are going.’
Giving Sabine a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, her elderly lover hurried out into the hall. Caution demanded that Gregory should remain where he was until the Count was well clear of the house. But no sooner had his footsteps sounded running down the garden path than Sabine stepped swiftly across the room and took down a gilt-framed oil-painting from the wall. It had concealed a small cupboard. Opening it, she grabbed up a telephone receiver and after a moment said into it:
‘I want Herr von Weizsaecker. Urgently! Urgently! Highest priority. This is number forty-three speaking.’
The garden gate had slammed so Gregory came back into the room and said, ‘This is tremendous news. But what are you up to?’
Impatiently she waved to him to be silent, then spoke into the telephone again. ‘Is that you, Ernst? Put me through to the Reichsaussenminister. At once! At once! It’s desperately important!’
‘Hey!’ Gregory cried. ‘Are you trying to sabotage the plot?’
Her dark eyes flashing, she covered the receiver with her hand and almost snarled at him, ‘Of course not. I couldn’t now, even if I would. This is a private matter.’
Speaking again into the telephone, she said, ‘What! He is at his headquarters in East Prussia: Schloss Steinort? Then get on to him at once. Don’t lose a moment. Tell him I’ve just learned that the Führer is dead. Blown up by a bomb or something; and that the Generals have seized control in Berlin. Tell him to look out for himself.’
Panting slightly she hung up, shut the door of the secret cupboard, shook back her dark hair and said to Gregory, ‘That’s the private line to the Foreign Office that Ribb had installed for his use when he was staying here. I haven’t used it for ages. Thank God it hadn’t been cut in an air-raid. As far as I’m concerned Hitler can rot in hell. So can most of the other Nazis. But I had to give Ribb a chance to get away. After all, he’s an old friend and has always treated me very decently.’
Gregory was in no position to quarrel with these sentiments. In fact he felt admiration for the decision and swiftness with which she had acted. Smiling now, he said, ‘Of course you’re right. Your warning should enable him to take a ’plane to Sweden before the Army boys get him. It’s a bit of luck for him, though, that instead of being in Berlin he is somewhere miles away in the country.’
She shrugged. ‘I thought it almost certain that he would be. Since the air-raids became so bad all the top Nazis spend most of their time at comfortable headquarters up in East Prussia. They not only escape the bombs but have the advantage of being near Hitler’s funk hole in the woods near Rastenburg. He’s always fancied himself as the Big Bad Wolf, and often goes about humming the childish ditty; so they call it the Wolfsschanze.’
‘Well, he won’t go about singing “Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf” any more,’ Gregory grinned. ‘So I think that calls for a celebration.’
Relaxing, she smiled back at him. ‘How right you are. Let’s go down to the cellar and bring up the best bottle in it.’
He followed her down to find that the wine cellar was larger than he would have expected in a villa of that size and had been well stocked by Ribbentrop. They chose a magnum of Pol Roger ’28 for themselves and a bottle of Tokay for Trudi. When Sabine took the bottle into the kitchen and told her the news she broke down and wept for joy. Opening the magnum they insisted on her having a glass from it with them to drink to a happier Europe. Then they took the magnum into the drawing room and excitedly speculated on the results of the Putsch.
By half past seven they had finished the magnum, so got up another then went out to the larder and collected a cold supper. About half past nine they were both feeling on top of the world from the amount of champagne they had drunk. Stretching her arms up over her head, Sabine lay back in her armchair and said with a sigh:
‘Oh, darling, how I wish you could carry me up to bed so that we could really celebrate. Is it quite impossible?’
Gregory felt that if any circumstances could ever excuse his being unfaithful to Erika these were they. The war was as good as over, and he had lived through it. Even should the police question and arrest him he now had little to fear. By tomorrow the Gestapo would be hunted men and their torture chambers being hastily dismantled so that as little evidence of German atrocities as possible would fall into the hands of the victorious Allies. The Police would do no more than lock him up until arrangements could be made for the repatriation of prisoners of war, and the Allies would lose little time about that. If ever there were a night that called for more champagne and finishing up in bed with a lovely girl, this was it.
Sabine stood up. Her eyes were moist and shining as she impulsively seized his hand and cried, ‘Come on! It’s six months since you received your wound. You said you had only a few weeks to go to be completely fit again. A few weeks couldn’t make all that difference.’
As he resisted her pull on his hand, she perched herself on his lap, flung an arm round his neck and glued her mouth to his. Her dark hair brushed his cheek and her heavy scent came to him in waves. He felt his senses swimming. Breaking their kiss, she threw back her head and pulled at him again. ‘Darling, I want you terribly! Take me upstairs! Take me upstairs and love me like you used to do.’
‘No!’ he gasped, pushing her from him. ‘I can’t! It’s not fair to ask me. Would you, if just for the sake of tonight you might ruin your chances of ever being able to make love again?’
For a moment she was silent, then she gave a heavy sigh. ‘No. You’re right. I’m sorry, my dear. It was beastly of me to try to make you.’
With a surge of relief he shut his eyes. Opening them again, he said, ‘I’m sorry. Terribly sorry. But we ought to go upstairs all the same. There’s no telling when Kurt will be back, and he mustn’t find me here. In spite of the Putsch, that would be disastrous. His hatred for both myself and Erika knows no limit. He is proud as Lucifer, and that his Countess should have left him for a British agent while our countries were at war made him see so red that he even lent himself to helping the Gestapo to trap her. It was I who gave him that ghastly scar before going into Germany to rescue her. And, of course, by coming to England she was posted as an enemy of the Reich, so her fortune was confiscated, and he lost the use of her money. For all this he’d jump at the chance of being revenged on me. Even if the Gestapo’s got its hands full he could call in the Police and at a time of crisis like this that could still have most unpleasant consequences.’
‘We’ll go up to your room, then,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll tell Trudi to stay down here and she will warn us when she hears Kurt come in at the gate.’
The second magnum was nearly empty, so they collected a third from the cellar, with the idea that even if they couldn’t make love they could get tight. Upstairs Sabine made no further attempt to seduce him and they talked about the war, speculating on whether in a few days it would be finished altogether, or if the Anglo-Americans would accept the German plan for joining them in fighting the Russians; and a score of other matters.
At midnight there was the usual air-raid, but no bombs fell near; and by then they were too full of good wine to take much notice of it. Then about one o’clock Trudi came bursting into the room, to say that von Osterberg was by now in the hall and would be coming up at any moment expecting to find her mistress in bed.
Hastily kissing Gregory good night, Sabine said to him, ‘It’s most unlikely that Kurt will go to his laboratory as usual tomorrow morning; so you’d better stay up here. I’ll sneak up and let you know what’s been happening at the first chance I get.’ Then she fled downstairs.
Elated as Gregory was by the day’s events, his share of the two and a half magnums had made him drowsy; so once in bed he soon dropped off to sleep. But half an hour later he was woken by the light going on and Sabine shaking him. The consternation in her face told him at once that something had gone terribly wrong. As he hoisted himself up on his pillows, she said quickly, ‘The Putsch is a wash-out. Hitler’s not dead after all. In Berlin the Generals made a mess of things and the Nazis are out gunning for them.’
‘Oh hell!’ he muttered as he gathered his wits together. ‘What filthy luck. But tell me more. Where’s Kurt? Has he cleared out and made a bolt for it?’
‘No. He has nowhere to bolt to where they couldn’t lay him by the heels if they go after him. He is hoping he won’t be implicated; but at the moment he’s in the cellar shivering with funk as though he had an ague. He means to sleep down there and remain in hiding until we know more about what’s going on. If the Gestapo come on the scene I’m to tell them that he hasn’t been home since yesterday morning, in the hope that they’ll think he’s made off to the country. They’ll have so many bigger fish to fry that if they don’t find him here they may not bother about him—anyway for the time being. Then, in a few days’ time when things have quietened down, if they haven’t been back and made a thorough search of the house he’ll be able to assume that no-one has given him away, and screw up his courage to come out again.’
Gregory gave a not very cheerful laugh.
‘There’s nothing funny about it,’ she said severely.
‘No; I suppose not. But the thought that you are hiding two boy friends now, one upstairs and one down, momentarily tickled my sense of humour. Tell me, though, what went wrong with the Putsch?’
‘Move over, so that I can get into bed with you,’ she said. ‘I’ve got next to nothing on, and it’s chilly standing here.’
As she wriggled down beside him he felt that he had no option but to put his arm round her. Then, as she laid her head on his shoulder and turned over towards him, her soft body moulded itself against his side. He shut his eyes and his heart began to hammer, but he fought a silent battle endeavouring to keep his mind on the Putsch. Fortunately for once Sabine’s thoughts were not centred on amorous delights, but on events; so she began at once:
‘The bomb went off all right, but either it wasn’t powerful enough or Hitler wasn’t near enough to it to get its full effect. Goebbels put out a broadcast about the attempt late this evening. But his account of the affair is certain to be a tissue of lies; so there’s not much that’s known for certain. The bomb was taken to the Wolfsschanze by Count Claus Schenck von Stauffenberg. He must be a terrifically gallant young man because he’d already been terribly wounded when he walked into a minefield. That cost him an eye, one hand and the use of all but two fingers of the other; so how he managed to do the job at all I can’t imagine.
‘Anyway, after the bomb went off he succeeded in getting to his ’plane and back to Rangsdorf, the airport outside Berlin, and he telephoned the War Office from there confirming a message that Hitler was dead that had already been sent by one of his fellow conspirators at the Wolfsschanze. Beck and some of the other Generals in the plot had assembled at the War Office. Soon after they received the first message they arrested General Fromm, the Commander-in-Chief, Home Army, because he refused to play, and issued their codeword, Walküre. I gather that for cover purposes it was to be used for an exercise that would bring the troops at the training depots outside Berlin into the city, in the event of a revolt by the thousands of half-starved foreign workers here. But early in the evening things started to go wrong.
‘Fortunately Kurt met a friend outside the War Office and they didn’t actually go into the building. Instead, they decided to go off and join another group of the conspirators who had assembled in a private apartment not far off. So from that point on I know only what Kurt managed to pick up and the bits in Goebbels’ broadcast that sound like facts. Apparently a Major Remer, who commanded the Guard Battalion, became suspicious about the orders he had received, so went to Goebbels. That put the fat in the fire, and the troops from outside Berlin failed to turn up. About the same time General Fromm learned that Hitler was still alive; so he arrested the Generals who had arrested him, and a lot of people were shot.’
Gregory sighed. ‘What a tragic mess. If only the plot hadn’t failed the war might have been over in a week; but now I suppose it will drag on for months, anyway until the Allies have occupied the Ruhr and crossed the Rhine.’ After a moment he added thoughtfully, ‘I don’t wonder Kurt is scared out of his wits. Tell me, though, do you care much whether he lives or dies?’
‘Oh, I’d hate him to be caught,’ Sabine replied at once. ‘Although he’s no good as a lover, I’m quite fond of him in a way. I’ve always got on well with elderly men who are well bred and intelligent. They’re much more cosy to live with. Young men are always making jealous scenes and should be kept strictly for one’s bed. That is, except for a few very special men, like you, darling. I’m sure I must have told you how I adored my husband, Kaleman, and when I married him he was more than twice my age. I don’t love Kurt, of course, but short of having the Gestapo take me to pieces I’d do anything I could to save him.’
For a moment Gregory considered the situation. It was in his own interests that von Osterberg should die, as that would free Erika. But, even so, the thought of any man whimpering in a torture chamber when there was a chance of preventing it was intolerable, so he said:
‘If you want to save him you’ve got to get him back to his own bed and out of the house at the usual time tomorrow morning. Should the Gestapo find out that he was involved in the plot his goose would be cooked anyhow. But they may not. In any case they will be buzzing round like a swarm of wasps, checking up on everyone they think might have been even remotely connected with the conspiracy, and it is certain that a man in Kurt’s position will be on their list of suspects. Therefore his only chance is to act normally. If they come here at night they must find him in bed. Any story by you that he has simply disappeared would start an immediate hunt for him. Still more important, he must go to his laboratory and carry on as usual. If he doesn’t his absence will be reported, and that’s certain to be taken as a confession of complicity. Then when they come here and dig him out he won’t stand an earthly.’
Quickly, Sabine drew away from Gregory and sat up. ‘You’re right, darling! Absolutely right! I’ll go down at once and make him see the sense of what you’ve said.’ As she jumped out of bed, Gregory caught another whiff of her exotic scent. Then she pulled on her dressing gown and ran from the room.
Next morning it was Sabine who brought up Gregory’s breakfast. As she set the tray down she told him that Kurt had taken the advice she had given him and, fortified by a stiff brandy against awful forebodings, had just gone off to his laboratory. She added that, as soon as she had dressed, she meant to go into Berlin to find out all she could about what was happening.
It was not until after five that she got back and came upstairs to tell him the result of her reconnaissance. The wildest rumours were flying about, but there could be no doubt that the Putsch had failed utterly. Several people near Hitler had been killed but he had escaped with minor injuries. Beck had committed suicide, von Stauffenberg and several others had been shot, and the Gestapo were arresting people left, right and centre.
For a time they discussed various versions of the affair, then, when it neared six o’clock, Sabine went downstairs filled with anxiety to know whether von Osterberg would return. The room Gregory occupied looked out on the road so, from behind a curtain, he too kept watch. Soon after six the Count pedalled up, then with sagging shoulders walked up the garden path. From his return it was clear that the Gestapo did not yet know that he had been among the conspirators; but there was still a very worrying possibility that, under torture, one of those who had been arrested would give him away.
However the next day, Saturday, he again returned safely but in time for lunch; and the dreaded visit from the Gestapo did not take place that day nor on the Sunday. From fear that he was being watched and if he happened to meet some friend who was already known to have been involved it might later be used against him, von Osterberg refused to leave the house; so Gregory spent a very dull weekend confined to his room. Trudi managed to smuggle up food hidden in a basket for him, but he did not see Sabine for even a few moments.
Most of the time he spent in reading and sleeping; but now that the first excitement about the attempt on Hitler had died down he felt better able to concentrate on trying to reassure Erika that he was safe. In that he felt he had succeeded, as twice he got distinct impressions of her at Gwaine Meads, thinking of and praying for him; and this strengthened his resolution against being lured by Sabine into agreeing to chance a set-back to his supposed affliction should she again become too loving when with him.
By Sunday night it was six days since he had parted from Malacou and after getting away from Poland he had not given the occultist a thought. But that evening he saw Malacou again clearly. With his shoes off, and looking utterly miserable, he was sitting under a hedge eating raw carrots. It looked as though during the past week he had become a tramp and had walked a considerable distance, but whether he was still in Poland or had come west into Germany Gregory could not tell. However, he was aware that Malacou’s misery was not caused only by his own wretched fate; he was grieving for Tarik, who was dead. The hunchback had panicked and run from the cottage in an endeavour to escape when the two S.D. men had arrived there. As he had ignored their shouts to halt, one of them had shot him in the back. Owing to the darkness Gregory had not seen his body, but Malacou had found it later.
Regarding Malacou as an unsavoury episode in his life that was now closed, Gregory thought how lucky he was to be in such comfortable quarters instead of, as he might well have been, eating carrots in a field; then he dismissed the unfortunate Jew from his mind.
On Monday von Osterberg went to work again and Sabine made another trip to Berlin, both to secure what news she could and try other people of her acquaintance in the hope of securing papers for Gregory. Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday passed in a similar manner and, as no move by the Gestapo had been made against the Count, it began to look as if he was going to escape the fate that had befallen many of his friends. Sabine continued to have no luck about papers, but every afternoon she returned from her expeditions an hour or more before von Osterberg was due back and was able to give Gregory more and more details about the plot that she had picked up from friends in high places. So, by the end of the week, he had a pretty accurate picture of the development of the conspiracy from its beginning to its disastrous outcome.
As he was aware the Army Chiefs, being convinced that Germany was in no state to face another war, had strenuously opposed Hitler’s plans, both for breaking the Versailles Treaty by re-militarising the Rhine Zone and for going into Austria. That he had pulled off both coups successfully, against their advice, had greatly weakened the Generals’ position; but when he told them that he intended to annex the Sudetenland, they had decided the time had come when no more risks could be taken, and had made plans to eliminate him. At that time their power was still considerable, so they certainly could have done so. But the ground had been cut from beneath their feet by Munich. Chamberlain and Daladier gave Hitler everything he asked. After three such bloodless triumphs Hitler became more than ever the idol of the German people. However dangerous the Generals knew him to be they positively dare not pull him from his perch, for it would have brought upon them the outraged anger of the whole nation.
In the case of Poland they could do no more than bleat a warning. Again he ignored it and, glumly apprehensive, they entered on the war with all the efficiency for which their caste had long been famous. Poland was finished in a fortnight, but the campaign had necessitated leaving Germany’s western frontier almost naked. They thanked their gods that France showed no disposition to launch an immediate offensive, but were convinced she would launch one in the spring; and the German Army was then weaker than that of France. Again, they had decided that they must eliminate Hitler before they had a full-scale world war on their hands. The result had been the Munich bomb plot in November 1939, in which Hitler had narrowly escaped being blown up. About that Gregory had needed no telling, as he had been involved in it himself.
In the spring there had followed the staggering series of Blitzkriege by which Hitler had made himself the Overlord of Denmark, Norway, Holland, Belgium and France. The Generals had been amazed by their own successes but happily accepted them and, much as they continued to dislike ‘Corporal’ Hitler, felt that there could no longer be any question of getting rid of him.
The following year had seen further German triumphs in the Balkans and the great drive into Russia. Over the latter they had always shaken their heads, and by the winter their forebodings were proving only too well justified. But in the meantime their wings had been clipped. Many of them had been sacked for opposing Hitler’s ‘inspired’ strategy; others were separated by many hundreds of miles and had been forbidden to communicate with one another.
So it had not been until disaster after disaster on the Russian front that a common desperation had driven a number of General Staff officers to risk a series of secret meetings and, in partial collaboration with members of the civilian Resistance groups, again plan to depose or kill Germany’s Evil Genius.
They were still hampered by the fact that every officer and man had personally sworn allegiance to Hitler and that, owing to Goebbels’ propaganda, millions of Germans still had complete faith in him. But it appeared certain that the Allies were about to invade Europe; so it had been decided that, psychologically, that would be the moment when the German troops and people would most readily accept the overthrow of the Nazi regime.
In consequence, from mid-June the most determined group had begun to make definite plans. The handsome but sadly disfigured young Colonel Count von Stauffenberg had recently been appointed Chief of Staff to the Replacement Army. In this capacity it was one of his duties to report at Hitler’s morning conferences on troop units ready to be despatched to the battle fronts. A satisfactory bomb having been made ready, he volunteered to take it in his brief-case to one of these conferences and leave it there, so that it woud blow Hitler up.
However, it was decided by the plotters that it was essential to eliminate Goering and Himmler from the succession at the same time, so they must both be present when the attempt was made. Hitler was then at Berchtesgaden in the Obersalzberg and it was learned that on July 11th Goering and Himmler would be there too. On that date von Stauffenberg took his bomb to the conference, but it transpired that although Goering was present Himmler was not, so the Count returned with the bomb still in his brief-case.
On the 15th he again took his bomb to a Führer conference at Berchtesgaden, but neither Goering nor Himmler attended it; so again he refrained from setting the fuse of the bomb going.
These abortive attempts had dangerous repercussions for, believing Hitler’s death to be imminent, Stauffenberg’s confederates in Berlin had twice set the machinery to work for bringing troops into the capital. This had to be laughed off as an exercise against the possibility of a revolt by the foreign workers. But such an excuse would not be accepted again. Therefore it was decided that Stauffenberg must go through with his next attempt whatever the circumstances, even if Goering and Himmler could not be sent in pieces to another world with their Führer.
By the 20th Hitler had moved from Berchtesgaden to the Wolfsschanze in East Prussia; so it was there that von Stauffenberg flew with his brief-case containing the bomb. But the stars were against him. Owing to a fault in the ventilation system of the concrete cellar in which Hitler habitually held his midday conferences, it was held instead above ground in a long flimsy wooden hut.
Having made his report, von Stauffenberg, who was sitting next to Hitler, excused himself to go out of the hut to telephone, leaving his brief-case resting against the leg of Hitler’s chair. The bomb went off, the hut was shattered and, feeling certain that Hitler was dead, von Stauffenberg jumped into a car that his A.D.C., von Haften, had ready for him. Owing to his agitation the courageous Count had left his hat and gloves on the conference table. In spite of his being improperly dressed they got past the three check points, although only through the last after having their names taken and von Stauffenberg exercising his authority as a Colonel to overawe the well-disciplined guard who had taken alarm at the sound of the explosion. They then emplaned for their two and a half hours’ flight back to Berlin.
Meanwhile Beck and the other Generals had begun to play their parts in the capital. General Fellgiebel, who was in the plot and responsible for communications at the Wolfsschanze, had actually seen his Führer blown through the side of the wooden hut; so he immediately put through a call to Berlin to say that the attempt had succeeded. On receiving it General Olbricht, the Chief of Staff of the Home Army, issued the codeword Walküre, then went to his C.-in-C., General Fromm, and told him that Hitler had been assassinated.
Fromm refused to believe it. Yet all might still have been well had not Fellgiebel suddenly got cold feet. Instead of permanently sabotaging the telephone exchange at the Wolfsschanze after putting through his call, as had been intended, on being warned that he was watched he left the exchange undamaged.
To convince Fromm that Hitler was dead, Olbricht offered to telephone the Wolfsschanze expecting the line to be useless. Instead he got straight on to Keitel, who assured Fromm that the Führer was still alive.
At that, Fromm refused to play; so Beck, who had by then arrived, arrested him and put him in another room with a junior officer to stand guard over him. General von Hase had also arrived and, as Commander of the troops in Berlin, ordered the Guard Battalion to surround the Government quarter. Then, apparently, the conspirators simply sat back and waited for the dynamic von Stauffenberg to join them.
It so happened that a Major Otto Remer, who had recently been posted as C.O. of the Guard Battalion, was a convinced Nazi. Even so, he would probably have carried out the orders of his Army superiors but for another piece of ill luck that befell the conspirators. Hitler’s faith in the loyalty of the Army had deteriorated to the point of taking a leaf out of the Russians’ book, and attaching Political Commissars to all formations. His nominee with the Guard Battalion was a Lieutenant Hagen, previously employed in Goebbels’ Ministry. Hagen queried the order and persuaded Remer to let him go with it to Goebbels and, instead of arresting him, consult him about it.
Hagen found that Goebbels had already heard about the attempt on his Führer’s life over the still-open telephone line from the Wolfsschanze. Believing the Generals to have seized Berlin, he was down in a cellar under his Ministry holding a pistol and contemplating blowing out his brains. On Hagen’s arrival he realised that there was still a chance of defeating the Putsch and sent him to fetch Major Remer.
By then Remer’s men had surrounded the War Office, but he did not like to go in. The tanks had also arrived from the Training Depot, but their Commander had queried his orders with his Chief, General Guderian, who happened to have a jealous hatred of most of the other Generals and was inclined to be pro-Nazi. He told his subordinate that, although he was to carry out Exercise Walküre, in no circumstances was he to use his tanks against S.S. troops or Government buildings.
Von Stauffenberg reached the War Office at about five o’clock, to find that in the past three hours little had been done. The new Commander-in-Chief designate, Field Marshal von Witzleben, had belatedly turned up with his uniform in a suitcase, but finding Remer’s troops round the War Office instead of attacking the Gestapo headquarters, and the tanks under orders not to help in the Putsch, he had got cold feet and had gone home again; while none of the others knew quite what to do.
After an interval of indecision on both sides Remer decided to obey Goebbels’ summons. By then Goebbels had been on to the Wolfsschanze and had learned the truth about what had happened there.
The bomb had gone off at eighteen minutes to one. It was believed that a Colonel Brandt, who had been seated on the other side of Hitler from von Stauffenberg, had pushed the brief-case further under the heavy table, thus somewhat reducing the effect of the explosion. But, in any case, had the conference been held as usual, in the concrete bunker, everyone there would have been killed. As it was, two Generals, Brandt and Hitler’s stenographer received mortal wounds, and several others, including Colonel-General Jodl, were seriously injured. Hitler escaped only because a minute before the explosion he had left his seat at the table to walk to the far end of the room and look at a wall map. Nevertheless the whole flimsy building had been disintegrated by the blast, and all of them were blown through the roof or walls, Hitler landing burnt, bruised and without his trousers.
Remer had been ordered to arrest Goebbels but still felt uncertain which side to take; so Goebbels picked up the telephone and put him on direct to Hitler. To his amazement, his Führer immediately placed him, a Major, in full command of all the troops in Berlin for the next twenty-four hours, and told him to arrest anyone, whatever his rank, who opposed his orders. Hitler then ordered Goebbels to get out a broadcast as swiftly as possible, attributing the attempt to a small group of fanatics and stating that he had come to no harm.
At about seven o’clock, to the consternation of the conspirators in the War Office, Goebbels made his broadcast. In the meantime von Stauffenberg had been frantically making long-distance calls to a number of Generals. Hitler’s orders to hold every foot of ground were reversed. The Army in Courland was ordered to retreat at once from its dangerous position. Field Marshal von Kluge agreed to prepare to withdraw to the Rhine and gave orders that the bombardment of England with V.I’s was to stop. Stuelpnagel in Paris and Falkenhausen in Brussels agreed to arrest all the Nazis in their commands; and soon after Goebbels put over his broadcast von Stauffenberg countered it with another, saying that it was a tissue of lies.
But it was by then too late. Dozens of junior officers not in the plot had arrived at the War Office. They demanded to know what was going on there; then, realising that the Putsch now looked like being a failure, they decided to save their own skins by arresting the conspirators.
Fromm was released and took charge. Beck had a pistol and twice tried to blow his brains out, but only mutilated himself horribly, shooting out one eye, and had to be finished off by a sergeant. Von Stauffenberg alone put up a fight, but was overcome and at Fromm’s orders, with Olbricht, von Quirnheim and von Haften, was shot at about midnight out in the courtyard.
So ended the ill-fated Putsch in Berlin.