He had made his old friend, Ernst Röhm, probably the best recruiter and trainer of militia in the world, head of the Sturmabteilung and Röhm had built it from 600,000 men to 3 million in one year, an amazing feat. And then Ernst had developed ideas of his own. Dark delusions. Now it was obvious he planned to use the SA to overthrow Hitler.
A born soldier, Hitler’s inner voice screamed, a street soldier, only happy when dealing in death. Why did he turn on me? How could he be so disloyal?
Hitler saw in these elements a truly Wagnerian tragedy. Two magnificent schemers pitted against each other. One of his oldest friends. Now his greatest enemy. Such irony.
And yet, Hitler could still not bring himself to initiate Hummingbird. He had to be sure. He still had to have evidence that his old friend had turned traitor.
He went back in the sitting room. Vierhaus was sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper. He put it aside when Hitler came back.
“I need a cigarette,” Hitler said. “You have a cigarette, Willie?”
“Gauloises?”
“Anything. Just a cigarette,” he said with a wave of his hand. He took it and leaned over for the light, then strode the room, smoking like an amateur, holding the butt between thumb and forefinger, taking short puffs, blowing the smoke out in bursts.
“I did everything I could for him,” he said finally. “Didn’t I write him a letter of thanks at New Year’s?”
“Yes, mein Führer.”
“‘I thank you for the imperishable service you have rendered,’ “ Hitler said with mock grandeur, wafting his arms as he spoke. “‘It is an honor—an honor, yet—to number such men as you among my friends and comrades-in-arms.’”
He stamped his right foot angrily and slapped both fists against his legs.
“What do I get in return,” his voice began to rise. “Betrayal. Lies. Treason!”
“Yes, mein Führer.”
“This man was my friend!” He roared, shaking his fists at the ceiling. He dropped his arms to his sides and bobbed up and down on his toes. He picked up the newspaper.
“Did you see this article in Der Sturm? He is openly bragging about his . . . his perversion. Compares himself to other ho mo . . . sex . . . uals. Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Frederick the Great He stopped for a moment and tried to control his gathering fury. “My God, how many years have I overlooked this. Ignored it. But He ‘waved the paper over his head and slammed it to the floor.
“He has no concept of how important women are to the Third Reich, to the propagation of the Aryan race. Listen to this, listen
He reached down, scrambled through the crushed newspaper and pulled out a page, punched a forefinger at the story.
“‘I renounce the political ideology of the new Germany because it gives women an equal place in contemporary society.’ “ He threw the paper down again. “People think these are my thoughts too, Willie!”
And then, as if to justify what was about to happen, still stalking the room, he said:
“On June fourth, not a month ago, I sent for him. ‘Ernst,’ I said, ‘Stop this madness. You must conform to the rules of the Third Reich.’ Yes, mein Führer, he said. I reminded him of the Beer Hall Putsch when sixteen of our comrades died in the streets and he was himself shot. ‘All our ideals we fought for then are within our grasp. Believe in me,’ I told him. ‘Don’t cause trouble.’ Yes, mein Führer, he said. ‘Take a month’s leave, all of you. No uniforms for a month,’ I said. Yes . . . mein.
Führer, he said.” Hitler started to scream. “Now he has called all his top men to Lake Tegern for a meeting. . . and they are all in uniform! He lied to me. Lies! Lies! Lies!”
Hitler stopped and shook his head violently. Vierhaus decided to divert his attention, get his mind off Röhm for the moment.
“I, uh, have some encouraging news, mein Führer. I had decided to wait, I understand the stress of the evening .
Hitler dropped heavily into a leather chair near the windows. He sat hunched down, his eyes bulging like those of a madman, the whites around his pupils glaring eerily in the shadows. The eyes looked up at Vierhaus.
“No. No you don’t, Willie. Nobody understands it but me.”
Vierhaus saw in the moment, a chance perhaps to curry favor, to take the edge off the night.
“Perhaps while we’re waiting for Goebbels . .
“Yes, yes, what is it?”
“I know who the head of the Black Lily is and how to catch him.”
Hitler’s face did not change but his eyes brightened.
“Who?” His voice was a low rasp.
“The head of the Black Lily is a young Jew, until recently a student. His name is Avrum Wolffson. I also know the names of his chief lieutenants. And best of all, I know how to get to him.”
“Do it immediately,” Hitler snarled. “The moment this is all over, do it.”
“Yes, mein Führer, the process has already started. I hope to arrest him as soon as Hummingbird is complete.”
“What a moment, Willie! If we can destroy Rohm and the Black Lily in one, swift, Blitzkrieg.
“Consider it done, mein Führer.”
“Kill him, you hear me, Vierhaus?” Hitler said, his voice beginning to rise. “No trial, no publicity until it’s over.” He slammed his fist on the coffee table. “Just kill him!”
“Yes, mein Führer.”
Hitler thought for a moment, then said, “Take him to the cellar at Landsberg and behead him.”
“Yes, mein Führer.”
Hitler stood up and began pacing again. “And then cremate him and throw his ashes to the winds.”
“As you wish.”
“I want him obliterated.”
“Yes, mein Führer.”
“Power is in the muzzle of a gun, Willie. Rohm is about to find that out. And this Wolf. . what?
“Wolffson.”
‘Ja, Wolffson. They have made their coffins, now they will lie in them.”
‘Ja, mein Führer,” Vierhaus said and to himself added, It is about time.
Then the messages started. Couriers, telephone calls, telegrams, all reporting on the preparations for the night’s devilish activities. Finally Himmler called Hitler personally.
“Mein Führer, we have irrefutable evidence that the SA is planning a coup d’etat for tomorrow.”
“What! Where did you get this evidence?”
“Karl Ernst has alerted the SA troops for a general uprising.”
Karl Ernst was the SA chief of Berlin, a longtime friend of Röhm’s and a dedicated storm trooper.
“Is Goring there? I wish to speak to him,” Hitler snapped.
“Nein, mein Führer. He is on the street. The entire area between Tiergartenstrasse and the Augustastrasse is cordoned off. The SA are trapped in the middle. Nothing gets in or out.”