The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich: A History of Nazi Germany (224 page)

While Hitler slept, Goebbels and Bormann made haste. In his Political Testament, which they had signed as witnesses, the Fuehrer had specifically ordered them to leave the capital and join the new government. Bormann was more than willing to obey. For all his devotion to the Leader, he did not intend to share his death, if he could avoid it. The only thing in life he wanted was power behind the scenes, and Doenitz might still offer him this. That is, if Goering, on learning of the Fuehrer’s death, did not try to usurp the throne. To make sure that he did not, Bormann now got out a radio message to the S.S. headquarters at Berchtesgaden.

This was an order to murder Goering and his Air Force staff, whom
Bormann
had already placed under S.S. arrest.

Dr. Goebbels, like
Eva Braun
but unlike Bormann, had no desire to live in a Germany from which his revered Fuehrer had departed. He had hitched his star to Hitler, to whom alone he owed his sensational rise in life. He had been the chief prophet and propagandist of the Nazi movement. It was he who, next to Hitler, had created its myths. To perpetuate those myths not only the Leader but his most loyal follower, the only one of the Old Guard who had not betrayed him, must die a sacrificial death. He too must give an example that would be remembered down the ages and help one day to rekindle the fires of National Socialism.

Such seem to have been his thoughts when, after Hitler retired, Goebbels repaired to his little room in the bunker to write his own valedictory to present and future generations. He entitled it “Appendix to the Fuehrer’s Political Testament.”

Dr. Goebbels finished writing his piece at half past five on the morning of April 29. Daylight was breaking over Berlin, but the sun was obscured by the smoke of battle. In the electric light of the bunker much remained to be done. The first consideration was how to get the Fuehrer’s last will and testament out through the nearby Russian lines so that it could be delivered to Doenitz and others and preserved for posterity.

Three messengers were chosen to take copies of the precious documents out: Major Willi
Johannmeier
, Hitler’s military adjutant; Wilhelm Zander, an S.S. officer and adviser to
Bormann
; and Heinz Lorenz, the Propaganda Ministry official who had brought the shattering news of Himmler’s treachery the night before. Johannmeier, a much decorated officer, was to lead the party through the Red Army’s lines. He himself was then to deliver his copy of the papers to Field Marshal Ferdinand Schoerner, whose army group still held out intact in the
Bohemia
n mountains and whom Hitler had named as the new Commander in Chief of the Army. General
Burgdorf
enclosed a covering letter informing Schoerner that Hitler had written his Testament “today under the shattering news of Himmler’s treachery, It is his unalterable decision.” Zander and Lorenz were to take their copies to Doenitz. Zander was given a covering note from Bormann.

The three messengers set out on their dangerous mission at noon, edging their way westward through the Tiergarten and Charlottenburg to
Pichelsdorf
at the head of the
Havel lake
, where a
Hitler Youth
battalion held the bridge in anticipation of the arrival of Wenck’s ghost army. To get that far they had successfully slipped through three Russian rings; at the Victory Column in the middle of the Tiergarten, at the Zoo Station just beyond the park, and on the approaches to Pichelsdorf. They still had many other lines to penetrate, and much adventure lay ahead of them,
^*
and though they eventually got through it was much too late for their messages to be of any use to Doenitz and Schoerner, who never saw them.

The three messengers were not the only persons to depart from the bunker that day. At noon on April 29, Hitler, who had now been restored to a period of calm, held his customary war conference to discuss the military situation, just as he had daily at this hour for nearly six years—and just as if the end of the road had not been reached. General
Krebs
reported that the Russians had advanced farther toward the Chancellery during the night and early morning. The supply of ammunition of the city’s defenders, such as they were, was getting low. There was still no news from Wenck’s rescue army. Three military adjutants, who now
found little to do and who did not want to join the Leader in self-inflicted death, asked if they could leave the bunker in order to try to find out what had happened to Wenck. Hitler granted them permission and instructed them to urge General Wenck to get a move on. During the afternoon the three officers left.

They were soon joined by a fourth, Colonel Nicolaus von
Below
, Hitler’s Luftwaffe adjutant, who had been a junior member of the inner circle since the beginning of the war. Below too did not believe in suicide and felt that there was no longer any useful employment in the Chancellery shelter. He asked the permission of the Fuehrer to leave and it was granted. Hitler was being most reasonable this day. It also occurred to him that he could utilize the Air Force colonel to carry out one last message. This was to be to General Keitel, whom
Bormann
already suspected of treason, and it would contain the warlord’s final blast at the Army, which, he felt, had let him down.

No doubt the news at the evening situation conference at 10
P.M
. increased the Fuehrer’s already monumental bitterness at the Army. General Weidling, who commanded the courageous but ragged overage
Volkssturm
and underage
Hitler Youth
troops being sacrificed in encircled Berlin to prolong Hitler’s life a few days, reported that the Russians had pushed ahead along the Saarlandstrasse and the Wilhelmstrasse almost to the Air Ministry, which was only a stone’s throw from the Chancellery. The enemy would reach the Chancellery, he said, by May 1 at the latest—in a day or two, that is.

This was the end. Even Hitler, who up until now had been directing nonexistent armies supposed to be coming to the relief of the capital, saw that—at last. He dictated his final message and asked Below to deliver it to Keitel. He informed his Chief of OKW that the defense of Berlin was now at an end, that he was killing himself rather than surrender, that Goering and Himmler had betrayed him, and that he had named Admiral Doenitz as his successor.

He had one last word to say about the armed forces which, despite his leadership, had brought Germany to defeat. The Navy, he said, had performed superbly. The Luftwaffe had fought bravely and only Goering was responsible for its losing its initial supremacy in the war. As for the Army, the common soldiers had fought well and courageously, but the generals had failed them—and him.

At least the Supreme Nazi Warlord was remaining true to character to the very end. The great victories had been due to him. The defeats and final failure had been due to others—to their “disloyalty and betrayal.”

And then the parting valediction—the last recorded written words of this mad genius’s life.

The last sentence was straight out of
Mein Kampf.
Hitler had begun his political life with the obsession that “territory in the East” must be won for the favored German people, and he was ending his life with it. All the millions of German dead, all the millions of German homes crushed under the bombs, even the destruction of the German nation had not convinced him that the robbing of the lands of the Slavic peoples to the East was—morals aside—a futile Teutonic dream.

During the afternoon of April 29 one of the last pieces of news to reach the bunker from the outside world came in. Mussolini, Hitler’s fellow fascist dictator and partner in aggression, had met his end and it had been shared by his mistress, Clara Petacci.

They had been caught by Italian partisans on April 27 while trying to escape from
Como
into Switzerland, and executed two days later. On the Saturday night of April 28 the bodies were brought to
Milan
in a truck and dumped on the piazza. The next day they were strung up by the heels from lampposts and later cut down so that throughout the rest of the Sabbath day they lay in the gutter, where vengeful Italians reviled them. On May Day Benito Mussolini was buried beside his mistress in the paupers’ plot in the Cimitero Maggiore in Milan. In such a macabre climax of degradation II Duce and Fascism passed into history.

It is not known how many of the details of the Duce’s shabby end were communicated to the Fuehrer. One can only speculate that if he heard many of them he was only strengthened in his resolve not to allow himself or his bride to be made a “spectacle, presented by the Jews, to divert their hysterical masses,”—as he had just written in his Testament—not their live selves or their bodies.

Shortly after receiving the news of Mussolini’s death Hitler began to make the final preparations for his. He had his favorite Alsatian dog, Blondi, poisoned and two other dogs in the household shot. Then he
called in his two remaining women secretaries and handed them capsules of poison to use if they wished to when the barbarian Russians broke in. He was sorry, he said, not to be able to give them a better farewell gift, and he expressed his appreciation for their long and loyal service.

Evening had now come, the last of Adolf Hitler’s life. He instructed Frau
Junge
, one of his secretaries, to destroy the remaining papers in his files and he sent out word that no one in the bunker was to go to bed until further orders. This was interpreted by all as meaning that he judged the time had come to make his farewells. But it was not until long after midnight, at about 2:30
A.M
. of April 30, as several witnesses recall, that the Fuehrer emerged from his private quarters and appeared in the general dining passage, where some twenty persons, mostly the women members of his entourage, were assembled. He walked down the line shaking hands with each and mumbling a few words that were inaudible. There was a heavy film of moisture on his eyes and, as Frau Junge remembered, “they seemed to be looking far away, beyond the walls of the bunker.”

After he retired, a curious thing happened. The tension which had been building up to an almost unendurable point in the bunker broke, and several persons went to the canteen—to dance. The weird party soon became so noisy that word was sent from the Fuehrer’s quarters requesting more quiet. The Russians might come in a few hours and kill them all—though most of them were already thinking of how they could escape—but in the meantime for a brief spell, now that the Fuehrer’s strict control of their lives was over, they would seek pleasure where and how they could find it. The sense of relief among these people seems to have been enormous and they danced on through the night.

Not
Bormann
. This murky man still had work to do. His own prospects for survival seemed to be diminishing. There might not be a long enough interval between the Fuehrer’s death and the arrival of the Russians in which he could escape to Doenitz. If not, while the Fuehrer still lived and thus clothed his orders with authority, Bormann could at least exact further revenge on the “traitors.” He dispatched during this last night a further message to Doenitz.

And then, though he knew that Hitler’s death was only hours away, he added a postscript, “The Fuehrer is alive, and is conducting the defense of Berlin.”