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Chapter 12
Nuremburg
September 3rd 1933
‘Patriotism is as fierce as a fever,
pitiless as the grave, blind as a stone,
and irrational as a headless hen.’
Ambrose Bierce (1842-1913)
Nuremberg Hauptbahnhof (main station) is the largest railway station in northern Bavaria and one of the 20 largest in Germany. As a through-station it lies both on a central railway axis from North to South (Berlin-Leipzig-Munich) and from East to West (Prague-Frankfurt am Main). Karl Reisemann could hardly contain his excitement. Nuremburg station had become his favourite place on the railway. He was proud of every stone in its lofty facade. Originally erected in the neo-Gothic style, it had been re-built by the architect, Karl Zenger in 1900 largely in the Neo-Baroque style. The most striking feature was the muschelkalk which characterises the exterior façade. Karl loved the symbols of technological progress, especially the winged wheel above the portal in the Mittelhalle, and the richly decorated individual halls. Now it was a place where he had full access and respect, and being present at this time, the busiest few days in the Nuremburg calendar, filled him with sheer joy.
From the trains which arrived from all over the Reich the uniformed masses poured out, thousand upon thousand. There were banners, flags, a swaying sea of red, white and black heraldry, the many standards of the SA, and, to Karl, the most impressive symbol which proclaimed that Germany meant business, the tall, disciplined ranks of the black-uniformed SS. He had received a letter from his nephew Albert announcing that he would be arriving from the capital with the SS-Sondercommando Jüterborg. In the absence of his father’s interest, Albert had begun communicating with Uncle Karl more regularly. Albert missed his father and felt the need for some elder member of the family to appreciate the significance of his new life. Yet to provoke Viktor further would be dangerous. His only hope was that his parents would simply get on with their lives, supress their misgivings about the new Reich, and hopefully benefit from the imminent rebuilding of their country.
It had been a long journey on the train from Berlin, but it had been fun in many ways. His Berlin unit had all shared a carriage. Beer had been drunk, but not to excess, and there had been much singing and laughter. Now this new world was theirs, and they were its most chosen protectors. As they formed into ranks on the platform, they felt naturally superior to the passing crowds of SA men, and even the regular army soldiers who looked askance, regarding the black SS attire with some suspicion.
On the platform, Karl found it almost impossible to find Albert in the ocean of uniforms. He pushed his way forcefully along the platform to the final carriages of the long Berlin train, and suddenly spied his nephew. He felt a surge of pride at the sight of this lofty, uniformed example of Teutonic determination and pride. As they recognised one another their pace quickened until they met, clasping hands and smiling broadly.
“Well, well,” said Karl, “just look at you. Lookat you! If only your father could share my pride here today.”
“Let’s not discuss that, Uncle Karl. Some things must remain forbidden. How come you’re here in Nuremburg? A special assignment?”
Karl laughed.
“Ah, well, Albert, that’s the beauty of my new job. I’m all over the place. Part of my task for this weekend is to oversee the smooth transit of the rally traffic. Do you have time for a quick beer?”
Albert shook his head.
“No, sorry – that would be frowned upon. We’re all instructed to get to the arena for the Führer’s speech, and there’s some kind of special event planned for my unit. Perhaps we’ll have time for a quick one when I come back to the station to return to Berlin, but I’m a sergeant, and I’ve got men to knock into marching order. I’ll see you around, Uncle Karl!”
At that, Albert was gone, leading a large group of his men along the platform.
Every young SA and SS man who first saw the Nuremburg rally ground had to catch their breath in amazement. The Luitpoldarena, with an area of 84,000 m² was enormous, capable of holding hundreds of thousands of men. Opposite the Ehrenhalle (the Hall of Honour) stood the crescent-shaped Ehrentribüne (tribune of honour), the main grandstand measuring 150 m (500 ft) long with 6m (20 ft) gold eagles on each end. Built by architect Albert Speer, this impressive edifice, the first permanent structure built by the Nazis in Nuremberg, could seat 500 dignitaries. The Ehrenhalle and the Ehrentribüne were connected by a wide granite path along which the Führer and his retinue could march in a dignified, military style, the wide space at either side of them accentuating their power. This was visual theatre at its most dramatic. Assembling in their hundreds of straight ranks, helmets gleaming in the sun, drums beating, the would-be young warriors of the new Reich felt as if they were in some great new Valhalla, perhaps reincarnated as the ranks of Caesar’s prodigious conquering legions.
Proudly bearing his unit’s banner, as Albert marched with his comrades onto the massive parade ground the surge of powerful pride was held in check by a competing emotion. He fervently wished his brother was here in the ranks with him, and that his parents might understand what a glorious movement was blossoming here on this immense expanse of land. The hundreds of red, black and white swastika flags waved above the brown and black spread of manhood like a churning sea of fresh blood. Why could his parents not cast off their doubts and, like him, place their faith in the Führer? This was the new Germany. Nothing could block its path.
As the SS-Sondercommando Jüterborg settled into their arrow-straight ranks, SS-Gruppenführer Sepp Dietrich moved from man to man, looking for any slight visual fault; an un-fasted button, a dull belt buckle, a pair of boots not shining from spit and polish. Dietrich had nothing to concern him. He stood at attention at the head of his immaculate men, as from further along the arena came the exhilarating sounds of the SS band as they struck up with a mighty fanfare. Hitler had arrived. Although all their faces were rigidly turned forward towards the gathering dignitaries on the Ehrentribüne, Albert and his comrades could not help but strain their eyes to the right to catch a glimpse of the Führer as he stepped along the granite path, his stern, determined expression embodying all the gravitas of this great rally. This day had been named the Congress of Victory. It seemed apt; 1933 was indeed a triumphal year. So much had happened. A new optimism, new laws, a new defiant face turned towards the arrogant, so-called victors of Versailles.
The Führer spoke for 80 minutes, his positive paragraphs punctuated by the massed ‘Sieg Heils’ of the enormous forces arranged before him. He spoke of the German people, of their place in the world, of their historical greatness, of their imminent resurgence. If there was any soul at rapt attention in the Luitpoldarena that day who might still have harboured the slightest doubt about what Hitler and the NSDAP stood for, then those doubts would be swept aside by the Führer’s concluding words;
“But long ago man has proceeded in the same way with his fellowman. The higher race – at first higher in the sense of possessing a greater gift for organization – subjects to itself a lower race and thus constitutes a relationship which now embraces races of unequal value. Thus there results the subjection of a number of people under the will often of only a few persons, subjection based simply on the right of the stronger, a right as we see it in nature can be regarded as the sole conceivable right because it is founded on reason.”
Then came the magic moment Sepp Dietrich had told Albert’s unit to expect. They knew what was happening when SS Sturmbannführer Jakob Grimminger arrived at their ranks for the Rite of the Blood Flag, (the Blutfahne). Every man there had an emotional link to this historic standard. It had been used in the abortive 1923 Munich Beer Hall Putsch as the banner of the 5thSA Sturm. The Munich police had fired on the advancing group and the flag became stained by the blood of SA Storm Trooper Andreas Bauriedl who, bleeding to death, had fallen upon the flag. The blood of the martyr on this flag was seen as possessing sacred symbolic power, ritualized and hallowed in this ceremony. The whole process which took place, in any other context, such as a religious rite in a church, may have been emotionally moving or even poignant. Yet the emotions this day on the massive parade ground had a pagan, primitive ambience. Even Albert, committed as he was, felt that there was something dark, something primeval in this Godless medieval routine. He still felt the power of the event, the pride, the passion, but here there were no crucifixes, here the ‘priests’ wore the swastika. It seemed amazing that all the intricacies of this new military culture had risen in the Third Reich, which was not yet a year old; the tableau of Grimminger, Dietrich, The Führer and the flag seemed so natural, a living page from the mists of Teutonic history. As Jacob Grimminger stepped along the ranks of the unit flag bearers, accompanied by Hitler, the Blutfahne, its corner held by the Führer, was used to touch each new banner, thus ‘sanctifying’ them. Yet when the Führer reached the standard of the SS-Sondercommando Jüterborg, he paused. He looked at the men, then at Sepp Dietrich.
“These fine men, my personal guard, shall have a new title from this day forward. You will be known as the life guards of your Führer – the LeibstandarteAdolf Hitler.”
As the flag-bearing retinue moved along, in the rear appeared a familiar figure. Heinrich Himmler paused by each man, whose expression, as he stared deeply into their eyes from behind his rimless spectacles, was a mixture of pride and unfathomable mystique. He paused for a moment by Albert. Their eyes met briefly, then the Reichsführer smiled, nodded, and moved on.
September 3rd 1933 had, until then, been the high point of the year, but there would be a further occasion to take that title.
The exciting summer and autumn passed. Albert’s rigorous training, and his guard duties outside the Chancellery, continued. The new government ensured that throughout the Reich, those non-Nazis in regional assemblies and local government were removed from office, to be replaced with party members. Jews were removed from the arts, music and literature. New public works initiatives were planned, and the new Gestapo became busy with their new zealous mission to round up those considered to be opponents of the regime. Liberals, socialists, communists, vagrants, the work-shy, those considered to be sexually deviant, and even those hapless barflies who, one schnapps too many, may have propped up their local bar whilst indulging in a verbal swipe at the Führer. Now they were all behind the wire; Dachau was filling up, and new camps were on the drawing board. At first this rollercoaster of draconian law felt harsh, yet the public, tired of the bad old days and drunk on the undercurrent of national positivity, were prepared to look the other way.
On 7 November 1933, the tenth anniversary of Hitler’s unsuccessful putsch in 1923, the new Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler, with their new embroidered cuff bands displaying their Führer’s name, was transferred from its base in Berlin to Munich for a special event. The SS oath-taking ceremony was to take place in front of the Feldherrnhalle, the Hall of The Fallen, in the Odeonsplatz.
At midnight on November 9th Albert found himself with 384 of his comrades by the Feldherrnhalle, in a torch-lit atmosphere even more darkly electric than the experience at Nuremburg. The ceremony began when Heinrich Himmler spoke the new SS Oath for the Leibstandarte. Addressing Hitler, the men were to repeat the Oath as spoken by Himmler.
“I swear to you, Adolf Hitler, as Führer and Reichs chancellor, loyalty, and bravery. I promise you and the superiors appointed by you, obedience unto death, so help me God.”
In the nocturnal silence as the last words faded away, the gravity of his commitment made Albert realise that whatever was going to happen to the fatherland in the years to come, he would now be an important part of its history.