Ulrich Graf, the bodyguard who saved Hitler’s life, was dropped from Hitler’s inner circle after he got out of prison.
The whole affair was soft-pedaled by the courts, and Hitler and his coterie were given ten months easy time in Landesberg prison, a cushy castle, where the putative dictator used the time to finally jot down his thoughts about taking over the world in a book titled Mein Kampf.
Hitler and his gang finally gained widespread success by using their vile messages to seduce the one power in Germany that could free them to do their evil bidding: the German army high command.
EIGHT.
THE CHACO WAR: 1932
Some countries have never won a war. You might say they inhabit the losers’ bracket of history. To them the way out of that bracket is to beat somebody. Anybody. But what they don’t understand is beating another loser won’t put them in the winners’ bracket; it’ll just elevate them in the losers’ bracket.
Two members of the losers’ bracket are Paraguay and Bolivia. Paraguay had fought the disastrous War of the Triple Alliance, while Bolivia suffered a huge defeat during the War of the Pacific, leaving both countries poor and landlocked. Gradually it occurred to them that the only path to the winner’s circle of history lay in beating the other. For decades they circled each other and prepared, which in their military traditions meant barely prepared. In 1932 neither was even close to battle-ready, but it seemed as if history itself had doomed them to fight. It became the bloodiest fight of the century in North and South America.
In the end nothing was gained or lost, except for a lot of lives and treasure.
THE PLAYERS
Marshal José Félix Estigarribia — smart and calm, Estigarribia quickly rose through the officer ranks to lead the Paraguayan troops. As preparation to commanding Paraguay’s army he spent three years in France and graduated from the French army’s Staff College the year after Charles de Gaulle.
Skinny — As a young man he was recognized as an outstanding officer and sent to Chile for additional training with its professional army.
Props — His victories gained more worthless territory for Paraguay than any other military leader in its history.
Pros — Despite years of French military training, he managed to win a few battles for his country.
Cons — Crowned himself dictator after the war.
General Hans Kundt — Bolivia’s secret weapon, known by the clever nickname of “el Aleman” — the German — because he was from Germany. Kundt, a German staff officer, first went to Bolivia in 1911 to help build the army and returned there after World War I to moonlight as army commander. In 1930, however, he fled Bolivia after a coup knocked him and his presidential ally from office. Then, with his adopted land of the perpetual dictator in trouble against Paraguay, he became “Das Ringer” who returned from exile and in 1933 brought Bolivia to the brink of victory.
Skinny — He fought under the Kaiser in World War I, rising to the rank of brigadier general.
Props — He came from Germany where they know how to fight wars.
Pros — Willingly returned to Bolivia. Reason for Bolivians to cheer.
Cons — Often confused Bolivia with Bavaria and vice versa.
THE GENERAL SITUATION
War has been a mixed blessing for both Bolivia and Paraguay. On one hand, both fought bitter and calamitous wars that left them devastated. On the other, the wars are the main reason outsiders read about the two countries.
Paraguay, led by its feckless dictator, Francisco Solano López, and his beautiful but venomous mistress, the Irish-born and Parisian-trained lovelady, Eliza Lynch, started a war against Brazil, Argentina, and Uruguay in 1865. The war came to an end in 1870 when the Brazilians shot López on a river-bank and forced Lynch to bury him in a shallow grave. A few years later Bolivia joined Paraguay in the loser’s bracket. Bolivia started an ill-advised war over birdshit profits with Chile and resulted in a crushing, smelly defeat outdone in stupidity only by their Peruvian allies, who continued on long after the war was lost. The war left Bolivia landlocked and burning with a deep desire to extract revenge on somebody, anybody, most likely a neighbor it had not yet fought a war against.
By the 1920s, it became clear to both countries’ dictators du jour that their only chance to drink from the sweet cup of military victory was beating up the other. Each country simultaneously arrived at the same conclusion: We can take them. To top it off, both countries had found the perfect reason to fight a meaningless war: the same perfectly meaningless piece of land.
This is called the Chaco. Few have heard of it. Fewer have been there. And even fewer stayed. No one has ever reported enjoying it. Located in the center of South America, the Chaco consists of hot, steamy swampland in the summer and dry desert in the winter — and somehow manages to incorporate the worst of both. It’s a vast, flat homeland for an army of ants, piranhas, jaguars, snakes, spiders, and horrible-smelling air. Those who’ve been there nostalgically describe it as a green hell. Its few inhabitants are Indians apparently unaware that other members of the human race spend their days without being surrounded by terrorizing clouds of oversized flies and belligerent mosquitoes. Adding to the other charms of the Chaco is its lack of water. Plenty exists to support vast mosquito swarms, but not enough for humans. Water holes are miles apart and are often not sufficient to sustain large numbers of people. To fight in the Chaco, armies needed to first think about water.
Bolivia had a reason to control sections of the Chaco. The landlocked country had no hope of gaining access to the ocean through its archenemy Chile, so it looked east. By taking the Chaco they would obtain access to the Atlantic through a series of rivers. For their part, equally landlocked Paraguay wanted the Chaco to expand its harvest of the quebracho tree, whose bark yielded valuable tannins, one of the country’s few exports.
On a deeper level, however, were the feelings held by both countries’ leaders that this was a chance they could not afford to lose. Bolivians were tired of being pushed around by their more powerful neighbors and to accept anything less than total control of the Chaco was too much even for them. Getting manhandled by Chile was not fun but understandable. Getting pushed around by Paraguay would be too humiliating to consider. Paraguay held similar but more desperate feelings. After suffering its devastating defeat in the war of the triple beating, the country was on trigger alert for any neighborly aggression. Showing weakness would leave the country vulnerable to attack and dismemberment, ending its extended experiment in isolated poverty. Like a small, wounded animal, Paraguay needed to be tough and vigilant at all times.
The tension between Paraguay and Bolivia escalated over the decades, and by the 1920s the drumbeat of failure in both countries ratcheted up the pressure. Clearly something big was going to happen. Skirmishing broke out. Army raids back and forth kept everyone on edge. Diplomatic relations broke off, only to be reestablished months later. Each held back from attacking only because they lacked any semblance of a functioning military.
On paper, Bolivia held a huge advantage in the coming fight. Its population was about three times Paraguay’s and its potential army equally bigger. Plus, Bolivia had a thriving tin exporting business, producing a strong income stream for the country. Paraguay exported only tea and unskilled workers.