Hitler turned away from the phonograph, seemed surprised at the question.
“Do you believe we are in danger here?”
Kesselring stared at Hitler for a moment, and Speer thought, he is trying to find the right way to answer that. There is none.
“My Führer, the Russians believe they will destroy this city, and all who stand in their way.”
Hitler shook a finger at Kesselring. “Yes, they do believe that! But they will find a surprise here, Field Marshal. When we stood at the gates of Moscow, we believed the city would crumble into pieces by our very presence there. It was but one of the catastrophic errors my generals made in that campaign. But Moscow would not fall merely because we hoped it would. Now the roles are reversed, and the savages who fight for Stalin will learn the same lesson. There is no danger here, Field Marshal. Berlin is protected by the will of the German people, and that will is fortified by my own. You should concentrate your efforts against the Americans in the south. I want them removed from German territory with all haste. They dare to cross the Rhine and violate our land. Make good use of the river, and drown them in it. Yes, drown them.”
Hitler seemed to notice Speer for the first time.
“Why are you here?”
“You sent for me, my Führer. I have the production numbers for the new submarines.”
Hitler appeared to wake to the memory, sat down in his chair, then abruptly stood again.
“That will change the war. Admiral Dönitz has assured me, and I believe him. We will once again destroy the enemy’s shipping lanes, we shall sink his transports before they leave their ports. He will no longer be able to supply himself on this continent. I am not a sailor, you know. I left the sea war to others, and that was an error. Admiral Raeder was a stupid fool, a traitor. He did not understand that launching a battleship against another battleship is not how a war is won. Dönitz understands, and that is why he still serves the Reich. How many submarines can you produce in the next six weeks?”
Speer was prepared for that kind of question, said, “Dozens will be rolling off the lines very soon, with hundreds more in the next few months. We will have a thousand in service by the end of the year.”
He knew he hadn’t answered Hitler’s question, but Hitler seemed to chew on the word.
“A thousand. Yes, very good. I knew I could depend on you, Speer.”
Goebbels spoke up now. “My Führer, I should leave. The speech is tonight, and it could take me a while to reach the studio. I must be sure the correct preparations have been made. We have every broadcast channel involved. It should be most effective.”
Kesselring said, “Excuse me, Doctor, but are you speaking publicly? I should like to attend.”
Goebbels looked at Kesselring with a tilt of his head, a man who knew when he was being patronized.
“You are gracious, Field Marshal, but your presence would be more valuable elsewhere, certainly. I will be in a studio. No crowds.”
Speer thought of the great rallies that Goebbels had engineered, massive spectacles of lights and flags, inspiring so much energy in the people, the energy that had fueled Hitler’s power. There can be none of that now, he thought. One nighttime bombing raid …
Hitler focused on Goebbels, said, “You will emphasize a timetable?”
“Not at this time, my Führer. It should be sufficient to tell the people that we are continuing to destroy the enemy on every front. Victory is within our grasp. It is not so important to tell them when.”
Hitler seemed to accept the explanation, and Goebbels looked toward Kesselring as though expecting a protest. Kesselring stayed silent.
Goebbels said, “The larger the lie, Field Marshal, the easier it is for the people to believe it.”
Hitler seemed not to hear, turned away, moved again to the window.
Goebbels rose, said, “Heil Hitler!”
Hitler acknowledged with a silent gesture, a quick wave of his right hand, and Goebbels was gone. Hitler turned, looked at Kesselring, and Speer saw a strange calm on the Führer’s face.
“Field Marshal, if the enemy is not to be driven away quickly, if he insists on defiling more of our soil, then you will carry out a new order. I am confident that every German is willing to fight and die for his country. We shall see that he does. If the enemy cannot be stopped, you shall create a desert in his path. Every factory, every home, every town shall be destroyed. We will eliminate the means of gas and electrical production, all bridges and roadways, croplands, all food and cloth stores.” He looked at Speer, continued. “Every factory shall undergo self-destruction. There shall be no means of manufacture, no facility shall remain standing. All of this shall be accomplished without consideration for our own population.”
Speer was shocked, stood, surprising Hitler, who backed up a step.
“My Führer, you cannot do this! There can still be peace on terms that will benefit Germany.”
“Herr Speer, I am of two minds on this subject. Study your history. Great men are known by the failures they overcome. Yes, we can defeat this enemy. Even now, our scientists continue their work on weapons that will unleash great terror. Should we prevail, I will have proven to the world that I stand beside the greatest conquerors of history. But I cannot control the failures of others, and this war has so often been decided by those who have betrayed me, the weak and the incompetent. I will not subject the German people to the humiliation they endured after the last war. If this war is lost, the German nation will also perish. No German will suffer under another’s boot heel. The German people will accept this as their destiny.”
Speer stood with his mouth open, felt a hand on his arm, Kesselring pulling him back down into the chair.
Hitler seemed satisfied at his pronouncement, said, “Enough for now. Field Marshal, I shall meet with you again tomorrow. Herr Speer, you will return to your office and expedite the submarine production. A thousand is satisfactory, but I would prefer to see that many in service by July.”
Speer nodded, stared at the floor.
“Yes, my Führer.”
Kesselring was up, and Speer followed, the two men moving outside the office. Bormann was there, the usual smirk that Speer detested.
“Sorry I could not attend the meeting. The Führer instructed me to send a disciplinary message to several of your factory managers. They have been too slow in effecting repairs. We cannot have that.”
Speer knew Bormann was purposely intruding into his authority, a practice that gave the man particular joy. But Speer ignored him, followed Kesselring out into the corridor. Kesselring led him to a narrow hallway, darker, no offices, pulled him aside. Speer felt the usual exhaustion, the effect of every meeting with Hitler, his clothes wet with sweat.
Kesselring had him by the arm, said, “Get hold of yourself, Speer. He cannot possibly carry out such an order. Even if Bormann spouts all of those same absurdities to your factories, you can contradict the order. The factory managers will listen to you. Just as the burgermeisters and military prefects will listen to me.”
Speer felt a wave of weariness, the depression returning in a black flood. He tried to draw strength from Kesselring’s certainty.
“I cannot defy him. None of us can. What do we do?”
Kesselring stood back, still had the hat clamped under his arm.
“We do our jobs. Repair your factories, produce your submarines. I shall maneuver my armies, defend our cities. It is the one great advantage, Herr Speer, to all that we do here. The Führer has made our lives simple, our duty has been made clear. We have been relieved of the need for thought.”
On April 14, the Russians began their massive assault, their objective first to surround Berlin, and then to crush the army that defended it. With hopelessness spreading through the field commands, some German generals accepted that the only salvation for Germany would be an armistice with the western Allies, who might be persuaded to stand up firmly to the Russians, preventing the destruction not only of Berlin bu
t also of the rest of eastern Germany. It had become apparent, from the panicked retreat of German soldiers and the vast streams of refugees desperate to escape the Russian advance, that no German general could expect the Russians to accept any requests for a cease-fire or a peaceful conclusion to the war that would allow Germany some kind of stability for its people. But hopes for some communication with the West had been severely condemned by Hitler, who continued to insist that German soldiers would fight to the last man. Any general who dared to risk a communication with his American or British counterpart did so at the risk of his own life.
Already, reports had spread through the villages close to the Russian advance that the Russians were treating German soldiers and civilians with astounding viciousness. To the horror of many in the German High Command, many of the reports were graphically accurate. As the Russians continued their drive through German villages, over rivers and around Berlin itself, they produced a hysterical panic. Along the front lines, German soldiers were deserting en masse, not into the hands of the enemy in front of them, but away, a desperate escape toward the west. The consensus among the fleeing Germans was clear. If they were to fall into the hands of a captor, it would be an American captor.
As the Allies continued their pressure from the west, the last pocket of resistance in the German Ruhr Valley finally collapsed, resulting in the capture of more than three hundred thousand German troops, many of them the same troops who had fought so well under Field Marshal Model in the Ardennes. The loss of the Ruhr erased much of Germany’s capacity for producing the tools of war, and Model himself understood that he would be blamed for failing to keep the Allies away. On April 21, before a furious Hitler had the opportunity to either replace or condemn yet another of his commanders, Walther Model took a pistol from his command post, walked into a nearby patch of forest, and killed himself.
With Russian artillery now impacting the city, Berliners reacted with a mix of panic and an astounding commitment to put up the best fight they could against what they believed was the brutal savagery of the Russian soldiers. Despite their passion, Berlin’s defenders had one major disadvantage. In an amazing display of overconfidence toward his Russian enemy, Hitler had never ordered any kind of defensive barrier to be built in the east, nothing similar to the West Wall, which had been somewhat effective in slowing the Allied advance in the west. Thus, as the Russians pressed their way closer to the outskirts of Berlin, the Germans had few if any defensive works to protect the city. German soldiers could only rush piles of debris and any other makeshift barrier they could find in a feeble attempt to slow down the approaching columns of Russian armor and infantry. Seeing the best efforts his men were making, one German general observed that his barricade would hold the Russians away for a single hour: fifty-five minutes of Russian laughter, followed by five minutes of actual fighting.
It quickly became apparent to the German High Command that the Russian strategy was to surround Berlin completely, cutting off any troops in the city from escape and trapping the hapless civilians who had sought safety in the city’s cellars and thick-walled buildings. Only ten days after their massive assault began, the Russians had nearly closed the ring. For once Hitler seemed to acknowledge the desperation of his army’s position. In response to the Russian successes, Hitler ordered the German Twelfth Army, the primary force still opposing the Americans near the Elbe River, to turn around and drive eastward toward the capital. In the city itself, the German Ninth Army was fighting for its survival. Hitler’s hope was that the Twelfth could break through the Russian ring to unite with the Ninth, and that the combined forces would be strong enough to drive the Russians completely away. There was one obvious cost to Hitler’s strategy. The Americans, who were already making extraordinary progress driving deeper into Germany, suddenly had a much easier time of it.
HITLER’S BUNKER, BENEATH THE CHANCELLERY, BERLIN
APRIL 23, 1945
“I am surprised to see you, Herr Speer. Pleased, but surprised.”
Speer made a short bow toward Goebbels, said, “Thank you, Doctor. I have been visiting with the Führer, but he had a considerable number of details to attend to, many people waiting to see him, so it was appropriate for me to cut short my visit. I hope to meet with him again before I leave.”
“How did you get here, if I may ask?”
“Small plane, a Storch. My pilot is Colonel Posen, and he made use of the runway constructed on the city streets. Perhaps you know him?”
Goebbels shook his head. “Sorry, no. But if he chanced a landing at this time, he is a brave man indeed.”
Speer was impressed by Goebbels’s patience for this kind of small talk, wasn’t sure why Goebbels was even there at all. The bunker was far more subdued than Speer had ever experienced, the obvious sign that many of the staff had simply gone.
Goebbels seemed to read him, said, “My family has decided to move in here, so that we may be united through our darkest hour. Regrettably my wife is not in good health.”
“I am sorry to hear that. I should like to visit with her, if there is time.”
“Yes, perhaps. Herr Speer, have you been told of the Führer’s instructions to Field Marshal Kesselring? Our forces in the west have been ordered to withdraw, a signal to the English and Americans that we will not oppose them if they will occupy the city. It is thought that this will be the best for everyone, wouldn’t you say?”
Speer knew of the effort to break through the Russian encirclement, but had not heard anyone express it in such a positive way. Goebbels waited for a response with that thin-lipped smile, the counterfeit cheerfulness that now seemed utterly out of place. Speer thought, do they believe it will happen that way, that the Russians will just … back away? But he knew not to disagree with Goebbels about anything. No one but Hitler could suggest any idea that did not fit into the plan.
After a moment, Speer nodded, tried to sound thoughtful. “That would be best, yes. For Berlin and for all of Germany.”
Goebbels seemed satisfied that Speer had responded appropriately. He looked away for a moment, then said, “We have always believed that the German people have much in common with our western friends. It is only logical that we stand united against a common foe. No one wants to see the stain of Bolshevism spread across Germany. Certainly not Mr. Churchill. We know little of the new American president, Mr. Truman, but we must assume he will curry the favor of the American people by making a strong stand against the spread of communism. There is opportunity for him to cast away the mistakes made by his predecessor at their Yalta Conference. We are aware that Mr. Churchill was vigorously opposed to the agreement that Stalin coerced from the Americans, and the Führer has been surprised that the English in particular have not been more forceful in their opposition of Stalin’s brutish ways. If they allow us to fall under Bolshevik boots, there are many here who do not wish to remain alive. That is one reason my family is here. If this bunker falls into Russian hands, they will inherit only our corpses.” Goebbels paused, seemed to want the meaning of that to sink in. “The Führer knows that Stalin wants him alive, which is the primary reason the Führer will not allow that to happen. Can you imagine the horrible spectacle of the Führer put on public trial for the imaginary crimes that Stalin would conjure up? It sickens me to think of our beloved Führer paraded out in a humiliating display, a circus act for the benefit of the most savage of entertainment. It will not happen, not to the Führer, not to any of us.”
Speer saw no emotion from Goebbels, absorbed what the man was telling him.
“Of course, Doctor. It must not happen.”
“Consider your own fate, Herr Speer. Just a thought.”
There was an oily seduction in Goebbels’s voice, what the man had used so well to sway people to Hitler’s cause. Speer had always understood the appeal of Goebbels’s oratory, felt the weight of that now, a small speech directed solely at him.
“Thank you, Doctor. I am hopeful your wife recovers. I do hope I will see
her before I leave.”
“Perhaps.” Goebbels turned away, then stopped, spun around, cold steel in his stare.
“Heil Hitler.”
“Heil Hitler, Doctor.”
Speer had spent an uncomfortable hour with Eva Braun, Hitler’s mistress, who was now a full-time resident of the bunker. He never had particularly strong feelings about the woman, but he had been somewhat close to her throughout the last year, primarily because she despised Martin Bormann as much as he did. If she seemed relatively oblivious to politics, she knew very well that Bormann was a snake to be watched carefully, that Bormann jealously guarded his closeness to Hitler. Thus even Hitler’s mistress was something of a threat. If Bormann spent any of his energy contemplating some treachery toward Eva Braun, it meant Bormann was preoccupied with something other than removing Speer from the inner circle. It made Speer and Eva Braun natural allies.
But the talk was always there. In those indiscreet moments, fueled by the long nights of flowing alcohol, he had heard low comments, few of them positive. She was thought to be something of an opportunist, a fairly selfish and dim-witted woman with a flair for attention. She was pretty in a plain sort of way, enjoyed athletics and a partying life, which Hitler most definitely did not. Oddly, Hitler would not allow her to be seen in public alongside him, and as far as Speer knew, the German people had no idea she existed. Hitler was more than twenty years her senior, and had never seemed healthy or energetic beyond his manic obsession with politics. The talk was often more prurient than Speer wanted to hear, observations among Hitler’s circle that Braun’s attraction to Hitler must have been inspired more by a lust for power than lust in general. Yet Eva Braun was never a part of the military meetings and planning sessions. She was never included in any official capacity, had no title, no duties. If she had any influence over Hitler’s decision making, Speer had seen no evidence of it at all. He imagined that she was simply the Führer’s plaything, and she had accepted her role willingly, if not with some occasional complaints. It was also clear that on occasion, her restlessness had caused harsh whispers in the High Command, that too often the Führer’s mistress was engaging in distinctly inappropriate behavior, behavior that Hitler seemed to ignore. Speer had known Hitler to show far more affection to his dog Blondi than he ever demonstrated for the woman who was supposed to be his beloved companion. Yet it defied anyone’s imagination that Hitler was blind to her blatant flirting, or worse. For some time, it was a poorly guarded secret that Braun had kept up an intimate relationship with a Gestapo officer named Hermann Fegelein, an indiscretion that was known to almost everyone in the inner circle except perhaps Hitler himself. Speer could only assume that Fegelein was the stupidest man in the German army.