Chapter 50

Göring, Goebbels, Hess, Röhm, Frick, Wolf, and I waited in the Kaiserhof Hotel for Hindenburg to summon Wolf for the long-awaited anointing.

“We still need a majority in the Reichstag,” I reminded Wolf. “Otherwise, you will fail, just like the others who preceded you.”

“To that end, Hindenburg must agree to one condition before I accept his offer: he must dismiss the Reichstag and call for new elections. For my part, I will promise that these will be Germany’s last elections.”

*

Goebbels broke the silence after Wolf left to meet Hindenburg. “Think of it.” Goebbels was exultant to the point of being giddy. “We will have the state’s resources as our means. The radio and the press will be at our disposal. There will be no lack of money. There is nothing we can’t do.”

Talk then focused on how the SA now numbered in the millions while the Reichswehr was still limited to the one hundred thousand permitted by the Versailles Treaty. What was left unsaid was that every one of us knew that Röhm was scheming to take command of the Reichswehr. Röhm stood at a window with binoculars, hoping for a glimpse of Wolf, but said nothing regarding talk about his SA.

I moved next to him. “Do you see him?”

As Röhm peered through his glasses we were all unaware that Wolf had slid in behind us, unseen, through the rear door. Wolf cleared his throat. The group stopped what we were doing, turned to face him, and held our collective breath.

Wolf wore a mask of calm, revealing nothing. He looked from face to face as tears of joy began to stream down his cheeks. Fourteen years of struggle had come to an end.

*

That evening tens of thousands of uniformed SA men marched through the Brandenburg Gate to Wilhelmstrasse carrying torches and singing patriotic songs. Their lights formed a river of fire coursing down the arteries of Berlin. They coalesced into a mass of flames that streaked past Adolf Hitler, smiling and waving from an open window in the Chancellery. Berlin had never seen such a spectacle.

A bright spotlight—worthy of a Hollywood star—highlighted Hitler against the dark backdrop of night. When he waved, the assemblage raised their arms in a thunderous salute: “Heil! Sieg Heil!”

From a perch in the nearby Presidential Palace, Paul von Hindenburg leaned on his cane, occasionally tapping in time to the pomp and marching songs that filled the air. Bootjacks crashed to the street in a hypnotic rhythm. Flickering lights illuminated joyous faces as they waved red and black flags.

The outpouring in Berlin was not unique. Torch-lit parades filled the streets of many German cities. The winds of change were everywhere. All sensed it. But few, if any—including me—understood how great those changes would be.

*

There was one who did understand—Erich Ludendorff—our putsch comrade from 1923. One day after Wolf became chancellor, Oskar von Hindenburg sought me out in the Chancellery.

Oskar waved a telegram in my face. “My father wants you to read this so you can understand what you’ve done.”

I unfolded General Ludendorff’s telegram addressed to Hindenburg.

Hitler is not who you think. By appointing Hitler Chancellor of the Reich you have handed over our sacred German Fatherland to one of the greatest demagogues of all time. I prophesy to you that this evil man will plunge our Reich into the abyss and will inflict immeasurable woe on our nation. Future generations will curse you in your grave for this action.