The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich: A History of Nazi Germany (66 page)

T
OWARD THE END OF
1937, due to a change of jobs from newspaper to radio reporting, my headquarters were transferred from Berlin to
Vienna
, which I had come to know as a youthful correspondent a decade before. Though I would spend most of the period of the next three crucial years in Germany, my new assignment, which was to cover continental Europe, gave me a certain perspective of the Third Reich and, as it happened, set me down in those very neighboring countries which were to be victims of Hitler’s aggression just prior to and during the time the aggression took place. I roved back and forth in those days between Germany and the country that for the moment was the object of Hitler’s fury and so gathered a firsthand experience of the events which are now to be described and which led inexorably to the greatest and bloodiest war in man’s experience. Though we observed these happenings at first hand, it is amazing how little we really knew of how they came about. The plottings and maneuvers, the treachery, the fateful decisions and moments of indecision, and the dramatic encounters of the principal participants which shaped the course of events took place in secret beneath the surface, hidden from the prying eyes of foreign diplomats, journalists and spies, and thus for years remained largely unknown to all but a few who took part in them.

We have had to wait for the maze of secret documents and the testimony of the surviving leading actors in the drama, most of whom were not free at the time—many landed in Nazi
concentration camps
—to tell their story. What follows, therefore, in the ensuing pages is based largely on the mass of factual evidence which has been accumulated since 1945. But it was perhaps helpful for a narrator of such a history as this to have been personally present at its main crises and turning points. Thus, it happened that I was in Vienna on the memorable night of March 11–12, 1938, when Austria ceased to exist.

For more than a month the beautiful baroque capital by the Danube, whose inhabitants were more attractive, more genial, more gifted in enjoying
life, such as it was, than any people I had ever known, had been prey to deep anxieties. Dr. Kurt von Schuschnigg, the Austrian Chancellor, would later recall the period between February 12 and March 11 as “The Four Weeks’ Agony.” Since the Austro–German agreement of July 11, 1936, in which Schuschnigg, in a secret annex to the treaty, had made far-reaching concessions to the Austrian Nazis,
^*
Franz von Papen, Hitler’s special ambassador in Vienna, had been continuing his labors to undermine the independence of Austria and bring about its union with Nazi Germany. In a long report to the Fuehrer at the end of 1936, he had reported on his progress and a year later had done the same, this time stressing “that only by subjecting the Federal Chancellor [Schuschnigg] to the strongest possible pressure can further progress be made.”
¹
His advice, though scarcely needed, was soon to be taken more literally than even he could conceive.

Throughout 1937, the Austrian Nazis, financed and egged on by Berlin, had stepped up their campaign of terror. Bombings took place nearly every day in some part of the country, and in the mountain provinces massive and often violent Nazi demonstrations weakened the government’s position. Plans were uncovered disclosing that Nazi thugs were preparing to bump off Schuschnigg as they had his predecessor. Finally on January 25, 1938, Austrian police raided the Vienna headquarters of a group called the Committee of Seven, which had been set up to bring about peace between the Nazis and the Austrian government, but which in reality served as the central office of the illegal Nazi underground. There they found documents initialed by Rudolf Hess, the Fuehrer’s deputy, which made it clear that the Austrian Nazis were to stage an open revolt in the spring of 1938 and that when Schuschnigg attempted to put it down, the German Army would enter Austria to prevent “German blood from being shed by Germans.” According to Papen, one of the documents called for his own murder or that of his military attaché, Lieutenant General Muff, by local Nazis so as to provide an excuse for German intervention.
²

If the debonair Papen was less than amused to learn that he was marked—for the second time—for assassination by Nazi roughnecks on orders from party leaders in Berlin, he was also distressed by a telephone call which came to him at the German Legation in Vienna on the evening of February 4. State Secretary Hans Lammers was on the line from the Chancellery in Berlin to inform him that his special mission
in Austria
had ended. He had been fired, along with Neurath, Fritsch and several others.

“I was almost speechless with astonishment,” Papen later remembered.
³
He recovered sufficiently to realize that Hitler evidently had decided on more drastic action in Austria, now that he had rid himself of Neurath, Fritsch and Blomberg. In fact, Papen recovered sufficiently to decide to do “something unusual for a diplomat,” as he put it. He resolved to deposit copies of all his correspondence with Hitler “in a safe place,”
which turned out to be
Switzerland
. “The defamatory campaigns of the Third Reich,” he says, “were only too well known to me.” As we have seen, they had almost cost him his life in June 1934.

Papen’s dismissal was also a warning to Schuschnigg. He had not fully trusted the suave former cavalry officer, but he was quick to see that Hitler must have something worse in mind than inflicting on him the wily ambassador, who at least was a devout Catholic, as was he, and a gentleman. In the last few months the course of European diplomacy had not favored Austria. Mussolini had drawn closer to Hitler since the establishment of the
Rome–Berlin Axis
and was not so concerned about maintaining the little country’s independence as he had been at the time of the murder of Dollfuss, when he had rushed four divisions to the Brenner Pass to frighten the Fuehrer. Neither Britain, freshly embarked under Chamberlain upon a policy of appeasing Hitler, nor France, beset by grave internal political strife, had recently shown much interest in defending Austria’s independence should Hitler strike. And now, with Papen, had gone the conservative leaders of the German Army and Foreign Office, who had exercised some restraining influence on Hitler’s towering ambitions. Schuschnigg, who was a narrow-minded man but, within his limits, an intelligent one, and who was quite well informed, had few illusions about his worsening situation. The time had come, as he felt it had come after the Nazis slew Dollfuss, to further appease the German dictator.

Papen, discharged from office though he was, offered an opportunity. Never a man to resent a slap in the face if it came from above, he had hurried to Hitler the very day after his dismissal “to obtain some picture of what was going on.” At Berchtesgaden on February 5, he found the Fuehrer “exhausted and distrait” from his struggle with the generals. But Hitler’s recuperative powers were considerable, and soon the cashiered envoy was interesting him in a proposal that he had already broached to him a fortnight before when they had met in Berlin: Why not have it out with Schuschnigg personally? Why not invite him to come to Berchtesgaden for a personal talk? Hitler found the idea interesting. Unmindful of the fact that he had just fired Papen, he ordered him to return to Vienna and arrange the meeting.

Schuschnigg readily assented to it, but, weak as his position was, laid down certain conditions. He must be informed in advance of the precise points which Hitler wanted to discuss, and he must be assured beforehand that the agreement of July 11, 1936, in which Germany promised to respect Austria’s independence and not to interfere in her internal affairs, would be maintained. Furthermore, the communiqué at the end of the meeting must reaffirm that both countries would continue to abide by the 1936 treaty. Schuschnigg wanted to take no chances in bearding the lion in his den. Papen hurried off to Obersalzberg to confer with Hitler and returned with the Fuehrer’s assurance that the 1936 agreement would remain unchanged and that he merely wanted to discuss “such misunderstandings and points of friction as have persisted” since it was signed. This was not as precise as the Austrian Chancellor had requested, but he said
he was satisfied with the answer. The meeting was set for the morning of February 12,
^*
and on the evening of February 11 Schuschnigg, accompanied by his Undersecretary for Foreign Affairs, Guido Schmidt, set off by special train in the strictest secrecy for
Salzburg
, whence he would drive by car over the border to Hitler’s mountain retreat on the following morning. It was to prove a fateful journey.

Papen showed up at the frontier to greet his Austrian visitors and in the frosty winter morning air seemed to be, Schuschnigg thought, “in the very best of humor.” Hitler, he assured his guests, was in an excellent mood this day. And then came the first warning note. The Fuehrer, Papen said genially, hoped Dr. Schuschnigg would not mind the presence at the Berghof of three generals who had arrived quite by chance: Keitel, the new Chief of OKW, Reichenau, who commanded the Army forces on the Bavarian–Austrian frontier, and Sperrle, who was in charge of the Air Force in this area.

Papen later remembered of his guests that this was “a piece of information that seemed little to their taste.” Schuschnigg says he told the ambassador he would not mind, especially since he had “not much choice in the matter.” A Jesuit-trained intellectual, he was getting on his guard.

Even so, he was not prepared for what now took place. Hitler, wearing the brown tunic of a storm trooper, with black trousers, and flanked by the three generals, greeted the Austrian Chancellor and his aide on the steps of the villa. Schuschnigg felt it was a friendly but formal greeting. In a few moments he found himself alone with the German dictator in the spacious second-floor study whose great picture windows looked out upon the stately, snow-capped Alps and on Austria, the birthplace of both these men, beyond.

Kurt von Schuschnigg, forty-one years old, was, as all who have known him would agree, a man of impeccable Old World Austrian manners, and it was not unnatural for him to begin the conversation with a graceful tidbit about the magnificent view, the fine weather that day, and a flattering word about this room having been, no doubt, the scene of many decisive
conferences. Adolf Hitler cut him short: “We did not gather here to speak of the fine view or of the weather.” Then the storm broke. As the Austrian Chancellor later testified, the ensuing two-hour “conversation was somewhat unilateral.”
^*

   You have done everything to avoid a friendly policy [Hitler fumed] … The whole history of Austria is just one uninterrupted act of high treason. That was so in the past and is no better today. This historical paradox must now reach its long-overdue end. And I can tell you right now, Herr Schuschnigg, that I am absolutely determined to make an end of all this. The German Reich is one of the great powers, and nobody will raise his voice if it settles its border problems.

   Shocked at Hitler’s outburst, the quiet-mannered Austrian Chancellor tried to remain conciliatory and yet stand his ground. He said he differed from his host on the question of Austria’s role in German history. “Austria’s contribution in this respect,” he maintained, “is considerable.”

   H
ITLER
: Absolutely zero. I am telling you, absolutely zero. Every national idea was sabotaged by Austria throughout history; and indeed all this sabotage was the chief activity of
the Hapsburgs
and the Catholic Church.
^†

S
CHUSCHNIGG
: All the same, Herr Reichskanzler, many an Austrian contribution cannot possibly be separated from the general picture of German culture. Take for instance a man like Beethoven …

H
ITLER
: Oh—Beethoven? Let me tell you that Beethoven came from the lower Rhineland.

S
CHUSCHNIGG
: Yet Austria was the country of his choice, as it was for so many others …

H
ITLER
: That’s as may be. I am telling you once more that things cannot go on in this way. I have a historic mission, and this mission I will fulfill because Providence has destined me to do so … who is not with me will be crushed … I have chosen the most difficult road that any German ever took; I have made the greatest achievement in the history of Germany, greater than any other German. And not by force, mind you. I am carried along by the love of my people …

S
CHUSCHNIGG
: Herr Reichskanzler, I am quite willing to believe that.

After an hour of this, Schuschnigg asked his antagonist to enumerate his complaints. “We will do everything,” he said, “to remove obstacles to a better understanding, as far as it is possible.”

   H
ITLER
: That is what you say, Herr Schuschnigg. But I am telling you that I am going to solve the so-called Austrian problem one way or the other.

He then launched into a tirade against Austria for fortifying its border against Germany, a charge that Schuschnigg denied.

   H
ITLER
: Listen, you don’t really think you can move a single stone in Austria without my hearing about it the next day, do you? … I have only to give an order, and in one single night all your ridiculous defense mechanisms will be blown to bits. You don’t seriously believe that you can stop me for half an hour, do you? … I would very much like to save Austria from such a fate, because such an action would mean blood. After the Army, my S.A. and
Austrian Legion
would move in, and nobody can stop their just revenge—not even I.

   After these threats, Hitler reminded Schuschnigg (rudely addressing him always by his name instead of by his title, as diplomatic courtesy called for) of Austria’s isolation and consequent helplessness.

   H
ITLER
: Don’t think for one moment that anybody on earth is going to thwart my decisions. Italy? I see eye to eye with Mussolini … England? England will not move one finger for Austria … And France?