Dönitz: The Last Führer (70 page)

Dönitz had received the new
Luftwaffe
chief, on crutches, and his intrepid mistress the previous day, and had been told that he must arrest Himmler; now he was required to act ruthlessly against Keitel and the High Command. The situation was plainly impossible and if, as Lüdde-Neurath states, he now talked of seeking death in battle it was indeed the only solution to the conflict between loyalty and impotence. To make matters worse, the
Gauleiter
of Hamburg, Kaufmann, had determined to avoid further destruction and loss of life in his already devastated city by surrendering it to the British, if necessary leading his people against any German forces ordered to prevent this. The problem of Hamburg came high on the agenda of his conference with Himmler that day—at all events Lüdde-Neurath states that during the meeting he worked on a wire to be sent to Kaufmann;
²³⁶
the message is interesting in showing that despite everything Dönitz was keeping his head and his usual excellent sense of priorities: it stated that the chief task of the military leadership at present was to save German land and people from Bolshevism; for the latter purpose it was essential to keep open a gate to the west across the partition lines between occupation zones agreed by the allies at Yalta, vital therefore to defend the line of the Elbe (thus Hamburg) against the
west. The destruction resulting here would be recompensed a thousandfold by the saving of German blood in the east; therefore this was the best contribution that he, Kaufmann, and Hamburg could make to the ‘destiny struggle’ of the German people. ‘
Heil
Hitler!’

It is probable that another reason for this plea to Kaufmann was the hope that if the British could be prevented from advancing to the full extent of their ‘zone’ as agreed at Yalta, and they saw the Russians sweeping into the territory from the east, it might trigger the expected break in the alliance; at all events this hope was still very much alive at Keitel’s headquarters at Dobbin, where Jodl was saying that fighting had to be continued ‘in order to win political time’—translated in the High Command war diary as ‘a split between the Soviets and the western allies’.
²³⁷

In Berlin, meanwhile, Hitler, confronted with reports of Russian tanks only a few blocks from the Reichschancellery, and knowing that there were no relieving armies on the way, finally gave up hope. Shortly after 3.00 that afternoon, he and his new wife made their farewells to the bunker residents then retired into his private quarters to execute their suicide compact; they arranged themselves at either end of a small settee; he clamped his teeth over a poison capsule and more or less simultaneously pulled the trigger of a Walther pistol placed to his right temple, she bit into her poison capsule as she heard the shot. Some minutes later shocked aides entered the chamber, after which the two bodies were carried up to the shell-pocked Chancellery garden and cremated according to his previous instructions.

Some two hours later Bormann sent Dönitz a message usually regarded as intentionally ambiguous, since it made no mention of Hitler’s death:

This was received at Plön at 6.35 pm. It was Dönitz’s first intimation of Hitler’s choice of successor. He was stunned. Speer, who had come to Plön to discuss matters, was present when Lüdde-Neurath handed him the message, and he too was surprised; according to Lüdde-Neurath it took him a moment or two to recover and offer his congratulations. The
question then was, how would Himmler take the news! Obviously it was necessary to take precautions, and after sending a radio message to Himmler’s headquarters asking him to come at once to Plön, Lüdde-Neurath sought out
Korvettenkapitän
Ali Cremer, a U-boat ace of daring and charisma, who was commanding the detachment of U-boat men guarding the naval headquarters. ‘He won’t like our chief becoming the Führer’s successor,’ Lüdde-Neurath said, ‘We must be prepared for anything.’ They surrounded the headquarters building with armed men, having them hide behind trees in order not to arouse the
Reichsführer
’s suspicions.
²³⁹

This was a gross underestimation of Himmler’s nose for trouble. He had just returned to headquarters from his meeting with Dönitz, the chief of his personal bodyguard, Heinz Macher, recalled years later. It had taken a long time because of the constant allied air attacks along the roads, and as soon as he saw the message he said, ‘Macher, this I don’t like. We’ve just left him. Something must have happened. Please take enough men.’
²⁴⁰

Macher, a battle-hardened, highly decorated veteran of the killer SS division,
Das Reich
, picked 36 men, ‘the most piratical, bravest and most experienced warriors to be had in the whole of Germany’! They left with the
Reichsführer
on the return journey to Plön in a column of open Volkswagens and armoured troop carriers, arriving in darkness with only the faintest moon illuminating the blacked-out buildings. Macher immediately sensed that something was wrong, and went out first alone; walking up the path, he saw a lone officer coming to meet him, the glint of a Knight’s Cross at his throat; this was Cremer. Macher half-turned and, making out Cremer’s men hiding by the trees behind, thought to himself, ‘Oh God, those poor bastards! We’ll blow them away with the greatest of ease.’
²⁴¹

There was no bloodshed, however; Himmler was escorted to Dönitz’s room and the two were left by themselves while Macher and two SS adjutants were entertained by Lüdde-Neurath and Cremer in a canteen next door. What was said at the meeting will never be known. Himmler did not live long enough to tell the story, Dönitz’s account is brief and melodramatic; he had, he wrote, taken the precaution of hiding his pistol with the safety catch off under some papers on his desk. He handed Himmler the message form and asked him to read it, watching his face as he did so. It expressed great surprise, dismay, and became very pale. Then Himmler stood, bowed and said, ‘Allow me to be the second man
in your State.’ Dönitz told him there was no question of this; he had no use for him—after which Himmler left. It was one o’clock in the morning.
²⁴²

Whether or not Himmler adapted himself to the situation as quickly and thoroughly as the story implies cannot be known; it is not impossible; he was a man of limited intelligence whose career had been built on the foundation of the Führer’s absolute authority. Once that foundation was removed it is likely he would have felt lost and have offered his services to the man the Führer had chosen to succeed. It is inconceivable, however, that Dönitz responded so brusquely. He had been cooperating closely with Himmler and whatever he thought or felt could not afford to alienate him and the ruthless fighters and police forces under his command; had he been in the strong position his story implies he should have arrested and executed him the previous day when von Greim and Hannah Reisch gave him Hitler’s instructions to do so. Instead, at his next meeting with the
Reichsführer SS
, according to Lüdde-Neurath’s account, he had discussed Hamburg and probably other security matters in the usual way.

Whatever they said to each other it was not the short interview Dönitz described; they talked through the night while in the canteen the adjutants drank quantities of Hennessy brandy together. Macher recalled it was sunrise before they parted and his companions had breakfast at Plön and met Ritter von Greim and Hannah Reisch, who were still there, before they started back.

The time Himmler arrived the previous evening is not known; it is not possible to say whether he was there when Lüdde-Neurath phoned through to the military High Command headquarters and summoned Keitel and Jodl to Plön as soon as possible; this call was logged at 10.15 pm.
²⁴³
It is not even possible to state definitely that he had arrived by 1.22 am when Dönitz sent a reply to Bormann, but it must be assumed he had—indeed Dönitz records Himmler
leaving
at one o’clock. It is almost certain, therefore, that this message to Bormann went out during their long discussion. Dönitz and Lüdde-Neurath both omitted it from their accounts, but it suggests that Dönitz’s former ideas of capitulation with the Navy and seeking his own death in battle had altered since hearing of his appointment as Hitler’s successor.

Close colleagues like Godt had noticed a dramatic change in him after receipt of the message. Almost certainly this can be ascribed to clarification of the chaotic command structure; he had been in the impossible
position of responsibility virtually without power; now he had supreme authority. As he recorded later, ‘A weight fell from my heart.’
²⁴⁴

Bormann replied from the bunker at 7.40 am:

This reached Dönitz, who must have been hollow-eyed from lack of sleep, shortly before 11.00 that morning. May 1st. He ordered a thorough investigation by the legal department of the authenticity of the message with its implication that Hitler was dead, and when the results proved positive, assumed the office of Führer of what remained of the Third Reich.

Shortly after 3 o’clock that afternoon a last confirmatory message arrived from the Chancellery bunker:

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Last Führer

Dönitz was product as well as last leader of the Third Reich; inevitably, therefore, he opened his account with a gigantic lie. This concerned the manner of Hitler’s death. He knew it was suicide. Hitler had told both Speer and Ritter von Greim that he intended to take this course since he could not risk being wounded and captured to be tried and made sport of by the enemy. Undoubtedly Dönitz was told this by both men. It was clear, too, from the last message from Goebbels and Bormann that he had committed suicide, for they had used the word
verschieden
—deceased; if he had died in battle they would unquestionably have used
gefallen
.

While Dönitz had been talking to Himmler in the early hours of May 1st, Speer had been working on a draft announcement of the succession, starting, ‘The Führer has remained in Berlin fighting against Bolshevism…. We hope that after his death …’
¹
If adopted, such a formula would have served propaganda and the facts. It was not sufficiently stirring for Dönitz.

German radio that night prepared the people for a ‘serious and important mesage’ with excerpts from Wagner and Bruckner’s seventh symphony, then at three minutes past ten, following rolls of drums, came the announcement, Adolf Hitler, in his command post, fighting to his last breath against Bolshevism, ‘
für Deutschland gefallen ist
’. Dönitz’s address immediately afterwards reinforced the message:
²

His first task, he went on, was to save German men from the advancing Bolshevik enemy; it was only for this purpose that the military struggle had to be continued; so long as the British and Americans hindered this they too had to be fought. He praised his listeners for what they had achieved in battle and borne in the homeland and asked them to help him by maintaining order and discipline. ‘Only thus will we mitigate the suffering which the coming days will bring to each one of us, and prevent collapse,’ and he ended, ‘If we do what is in our power God will not abandon us after so much suffering and sacrifice.’

The appeal to trust in God was a striking departure from Nazi philosophy. Could it be that a residual core of belief, to be found perhaps in most sailors who have witnessed His wonders and felt their own puniness in crisis, was surfacing in him at this ultimate crisis? Or was he advised that the majority of the people had turned against the ‘brown pest’ of Nazism which had brought them to their present condition? Or was it simply that Providence seemed too impersonal a concept to rescue Germany from the misery it had brought?

Afterwards Dönitz issued an order of the day to the
Wehrmacht
:

This was his trump card over Himmler, and the chief reason he had had Bormann’s message from the bunker examined by his legal department, who had taken sworn statements from the communications personnel. The loyal oath had an inner significance as potent as flag or Fatherland. He ended: ‘German soldiers, do your duty. It is for the life of our people!’

The military situation as he made this appeal was catastrophic: the greater part of the Fatherland and the capital had been overrun; resistance was confined to his own small area in the north, including the peninsula of Schleswig-Holstein and German-occupied Denmark, and a completely separated southern area under the overall military command of Field Marshal Kesselring, including western Czechoslovakia, the mountainous southern region of Bavaria and what remained of Mussolini’s puppet state in northern Italy. There were two separated and beleaguered armies on the Baltic coast, one in Kurland, the other in East Prussia now confined to a narrow coastal strip around the Gulf of Danzig; neither had any hope of holding out for long; the only question was how many men could be evacuated to the west before they had to surrender to the Red Army. The only other significant areas outside Germany and Denmark where the German writ still ran were western Holland and Norway.

The position could not be conveyed in simple territorial terms, however; the
Luftwaffe
was virtually grounded for lack of fuel and the western allies had total command of the air over land and sea; moreover, the process of disintegration of the German armed forces, weary of continuing an apparently purposeless struggle, had reached an advanced stage; more and more Commanders were making their own decisions to lead their units west to surrender to the British and Americans; as the High Command war diary put it that day, ‘Hitler is dead and in these last
hours of the war each German is understandably only striving not to fall into the hands of the Russians.’
⁴

This constituted a genuine dilemma. Germans in the east were reaping at the hands of the Red Army what Hitler and the SS had sown: rape and crucifixion, hideous slaughter of all ages and sexes were no fictions of propaganda, nor, in view of what Speer and his collaborators had done for the sake of German war production, was the fear of enslavement just an emotive stimulus to continuing the struggle. Dönitz and his advisers had every reason to believe it would be a reality, and his remarks a few days later about the consequences of surrendering the eastern armies—hence the German civilians they were shielding—were not rhetoric: ‘No German of honour could associated his name with this [capitulation]. The curse of millions would outlaw his name and history would brand him a traitor.’
⁵

It is evident from his decisions from his first day in office that other reasons for continuing the struggle, notably because it was the will of the Führer, or to prevent the dishonour of capitulation and the brand-mark this would stamp on his name for evermore, appeared to fall away miraculously at the news of Hitler’s death. It was an extraordinary transformation: Speer, who witnessed it from close quarters, recalls, ‘The objectivity of the trained officer [now] came uppermost. From the first hour Dönitz was of the opinion that we had to wind up the war as quickly as possible.’
⁶

Speer had undoubtedly played a part in this sea-change; he had been a frequent visitor to Plön during the past few days, and before that his behaviour and attitude must have shown Dönitz there were other views with, perhaps, as much validity as Hitler’s. The uncharacteristic pessimism into which he had sunk over the past two or three days probably owed as much to inner conflict between Speer’s brand of realism and his own brand of loyalty to Hitler as to the impossible command structure in his area. It had been the outward sign of inner ferment; finally Hitler’s death released him from the spell of nihilism.

It would probably be wrong, however, to trust too far to Speer’s and also Lüdde-Neurath’s recollections about an immediate decision to wind up the war as quickly as possible. The adviser who had more influence over him at this stage was Jodl, whose intelligence and military judgement he respected. Jodl still believed that the inevitable break between the eastern and western enemies might be engineered in these final days before all was lost. And Dönitz, for all the scepticism he had shown
about this idea in his April decree and for all his later denials, must have thought it inconceivable that the western powers could remain blind to the Communist threat, now that the Russians were poised to storm over the zone boundaries agreed at Yalta. The attempt to stall for ‘political time’ pulled in the same direction as the necessity to rescue as many troops and German civilians as possible from Kurland, East Prussia and Czechoslovakia, hence his decision to continue fighting the western powers.

In view of the war weariness of the population and a majority of his forces, and the vulnerability of both to slaughter from the air, it was a dangerous game, and only possible under sanction of the severest penalties. He had never shrunk from that. Just as young sacrifices to the Führer dangled from trees and lamp posts in central Berlin, so grisly offerings spread among the trees on the plain of Mecklenberg and in Schleswig-Holstein.

It was on this night of May 1st, after hearing Dönitz’s voice on the radio, ‘Our Führer, Adolf Hitler, has fallen … but the fight must go on …’ that Heinrich Jaenecke and other young naval ratings fresh from school sprang out of the windows of their barracks and away over the fields:

Besides summary lynchings by the
Kettenhunde
, juridical sentences of death passed by naval courts for mutiny and desertion continued to be carried out.
⁸

The next day, May 2nd, Himmler arrived at Dönitz’s headquarters and was invited to lunch.
⁹
He brought news that Gauleiter Kaufmann was still intent on surrendering Hamburg without a fight; this enraged Dönitz; if everyone acted on their own, he said, there was no point to his office, and he agreed to Speer’s offer to drive to Hamburg to talk it out with Kaufmann. At this stage it seems, therefore, he was still intent on holding off the west to gain political time. During the afternoon, however, it was discovered that both British and US forces had stormed from the Elbe right across the base of the Schleswig-Holstein peninsula
to the Baltic coast, a move ordered by the Supreme Commander in the west, General Eisenhower, to prevent the Russians taking the Schleswig-Holstein peninsula. This removed the political reason for continuing the fight against the Anglo-Saxons in the north and Dönitz decided to try a strategy of local capitulation—again favoured by Jodl who was at Plön that afternoon for a situation conference. The idea was to get around the allied refusal to accept anything but unconditional surrender on all fronts, while still buying time to continue the rescue of the easterners. He decided to send
Generaladmiral
von Friedeberg—whom he had appointed C-in-C Navy after his own assumption of supreme power—as head of a delegation to the British Commander, Field Marshal Montgomery.

The brief he drew up for the mission was:

The latest allied advances made it imperative to move his headquarters further north, and he arranged to meet von Friedeberg to give him his instructions on his way that day; meanwhile Jodl had instructions phoned through to Kaufmann explaining that it was not now intended to defend Hamburg; German forces would disengage over the Elbe without fighting.

The site Dönitz had chosen for his next and last command post was the Navy cadet school at Mürwik, near Flensburg, at the far north of the Schleswig-Holstein peninsula, and he drove there that evening with the man he was appointing his Foreign Minister, Count Schwerin von Krosigk; a noble from an ancient family, von Krosigk had been a Rhodes scholar at Oxford before the First War, becoming for a while a convinced Fabian Socialist, had reverted to more natural conservative colours during the Republic, then served Hitler faithfully as a finance minister—for example settling the sums Jews were required to hand over after their property had been savaged in the notorious
Kristallnacht
rampage—while
remaining apparently a devout Christian and friend of the leading members of the German resistance—an epitome of the moral collapse of old Germany. He and Dönitz had to dive for the ditch during the journey as they were strafed by low-flying aircraft and no doubt they passed wrecked and burning vehicles and drove by crowds of civilian refugees interspersed with troop detachments trudging silently from the enemy.
¹¹
It was not until nine that evening that they reached the bridge over the Kiel Canal where von Friedeberg was waiting.