Chapter II: Part IX
Chapter II: The Gambit of the West
Part IX
March 22, 1936
The Staatsoper in Berlin was abuzz with energy as the leaders of the Wehrmacht arrived at the grand opera house for the day’s ceremonies. It was Heldengedenktag -- Heroes’ Memorial Day.
The previous year, the Heldengedenktag ceremonies had marked the “coming out” -- as Hitler had said -- of the rearmed Wehrmacht. That day, the shackles of Versailles had been thrown off once and for all, and German honor restored. The normally solemn remembrance of war dead past had been overshadowed by the heady jubilation of national resurrection. Some had even seen in that crowd “The Spirit of 1914” that was fondly remembered my many as Germany’s finest hour.
Field Marshal August von Mackensen, the last of the Kaiser’s field marshals, had been there then, attired for the first time since the Great War in the pompous uniform of the Death’s Head Hussars. He had sat with Hitler, and around them the old veteran officers of the Imperial Army in their spiked helmets had mixed freely with the men of the Army Reborn. Germans saw in this a certain continuity -- their military was no longer the sorry replacement for the grand tradition of old, but its continuation.
Detachments from the Army divisions in the West were on hand for the Heldengedenktag ceremonies.
Today though, von Mackensen was absent, having recently suffered a minor stroke. The mood was less gay, the Army bands less strident. For the first time, Germany honored the dead of a recent war, and this Heldengedenktag was noticeably more somber.
Christoph Scholl stood outside the Staatsoper, watching the arrivals. Most of the officers and general staff were present, as well as a large contingent of naval officers in their long gold-buttoned greatcoats, and an assortment of Luftwaffe men in their sky-blue uniforms. Count Galeazzo Ciano was on hand to convey Mussolini’s good wishes, along with a handful of emissaries from states sympathetic to Germany. Scholl noted that the international press was not hovering around the proceedings as they had in February for Hitler’s Peace Speech.
At last, the Führer arrived on foot, surrounded by his bodyguards.
The Führer arriving at the Staatsoper, just before noon.
He passed close to Scholl and shook his hand on the way into the opera house. The hand seemed to tingle for several minutes afterward, as Scholl followed the officers into the Staatsoper and took his assigned seat.
After some time, the lights in the opera dimmed, and at last went out entirely. The Staatsoper was plunged into darkness.
A single blue spotlight appeared on the stage. Out of the darkness, an officer of the SS strode into the light. “Then I saw an angel come down from heaven, holding in his hand the key to the abyss and a heavy chain. He seized the dragon, the ancient serpent, which is the Devil, and tied it up for a thousand years and threw it into the abyss, which he locked over it and sealed, so that it could no longer lead the nations astray until the thousand years are completed.
“When the thousand years are completed, the Devil will be released from his prison. He will go out to deceive the nations at the four corners of the earth, to gather them for battle; their number is like the sand of the sea. They invaded the breadth of the earth and surrounded the camp of the heroes and the beloved city. But fire came down from heaven and immolated them. The Devil who had led them astray was thrown into the pool of fire and sulfur, where the Beast and the False Prophet were. There they will be tormented day and night for an unending age.”
The spotlight faded the blackness, and the audience began to murmur. This was quite unlike the previous year’s Heldengedenktag.
The lights in the opera came on again, and a bugler dressed in chain mail strode up the aisle and sounded an ancient call to war, as fifty black-uniformed men assumed the stage in rigid formation.
The house lights again dimmed, leaving the men of the SS-Verfügungstruppe
Choir cast in pale blue light. With cold clear voices, they began to sing the national anthem.
“Germany, Germany above everything,
Above everything in the world,
When it always for protection and defense,
Brotherly holds together.
From the Channel to the Memel,
From the Adige to the Belt.
The flag high! The ranks tightly closed!
The SA marches with a calm, firm pace.
Comrades whom Red Front and Reaction shot dead,
March in spirit within our ranks.
Make the street free for the brown battalions;
Make the street free for the SA man!
Already millions are looking to the swastika, full of hope;
The day of freedom and bread is dawning.
For the last time the storm-call has sounded!
We are all prepared for the fight!
Soon Hitler-flags will fly over every street.
Our servitude will not last much longer now!
The flag high! The ranks tightly closed!
The SA marches with a calm, firm pace.
Comrades whom Red Front and Reaction shot dead,
March in spirit within our ranks.”
Though reserved at the beginning of the anthem, the crowd had come alive at the word ‘Channel’ -- the traditional lyric had been changed to reflect Germany’s new borders.
The SS-Verfügungstruppe Choir parted ranks, allowing Heinrich Himmler himself to stride forward to the dais at one side of the stage. The entire stage was now illuminated with rich golden light. “I give you Adolf Hitler, Führer of Germany and defender of the German People! Heil Hitler!”
The Staatsoper called back: “Heil Hitler. Heil Hitler. Heil Hitler.” Scholl saw that the cries lacked the reckless enthusiasm of rallies past. The crowd seemed unsure how to react to a passage from the Book of Revelation followed by the
Horst-Wessel-lied. Immediately as the Führer became visible on the stage, though, the Heils increased in intensity.
Hitler shook Himmler’s hand, and gestured to the SS choir repeatedly, thumping his breast each time. At last he was alone on the stage.
“Germans! Germans. Today we honor the heroes of the Reich -- including those who gave their lives for Germany in Belgium. Some honor such sacrifice through silence, but it is more fitting to honor these lions of Germany through our renewed determination to the cause for which they gave everything. Today, I shall honor the heroes of yesterday by honoring the heroes of today.” The Führer swept an arm towards the very back of the stage.
Spotlights flicked on to reveal a line of men standing against the far wall. Honor guards from thirty-one of the Army divisions stationed in the West stood at attention, holding aloft their divisional standards.
“Each of these divisions has honored the Reich in battle. Each has shed blood for the defense of the German People.
“The soldiers of Rome carried before them golden eagles as symbols of the majesty of their empire. The men of Rome saw in the eagles a supernatural dignity that rallied them to the defense of their people.
“The old order of Versailles stripped Germany of this dignity, but the heroism of the past months has restored it. Let the soldiers of the Reich now bear similar symbols to remind them of this sacred duty.
“Each of the divisions that was in combat in Belgium will receive an eagle, like those of Ancient Rome -- guard these unto death for the German People and Fatherland! Come forward to receive your eagles.”
The thirty-one standard-bearers processed across the stage, stopping in front of the dais. The Führer produced from below him the first eagle, holding it aloft for all those in the Staatsoper to see. There were awed gasps from the audience.
The eagle was cast out of solid gold. Its wings stretched forty centimeters, and in its talons it clutched a wreathed swastika. The standard-bearer of the 1. Infanterie-Division dipped his flag so that the Führer could attach it to the top of the pole. The ponderously heavy Reichsadler nearly slipped from Hitler’s grasp, but at last he managed to thread it onto the pole’s specially prepared cap.
The beaming standard-bearer raised his flag proudly to thunderous cheers. For nearly half an hour, the Warlord presented his eagles to the remaining divisions. Finally, the honor guards were again lined against the wall behind the dais, standards now capped with magnificent golden icons.
“These Eagle-Bearing divisions shall be the great hope and defense of Germany in the years to come. They shall watch over a prosperous peace and a secure future. Several of these divisions, however, have distinguished themselves especially on the battlefield. I shall now present to seven of these divisions special honors, which shall be borne on their standards for all time.”
Hitler knelt and produced a long embroidered streamer.
“6. Infanterie-Division overcame formidable defenses on the approach to Namur on January twenty-eighth. May the honor be borne forever!”
The standard-bearer of the named division marched forward, and the Führer tied the red and gold streamer to the shaft of the standard.
“15. Infanterie-Division battered through three Belgian divisions on the same ground where Blücher defeated Napoleon more than a century ago. May the honor be borne forever!”
A second standard-bearer came forward to receive the honor.
“29. Infanterie-Division led the capture of Antwerp on the twenty-eighth, securing the city’s cultural treasures intact, despite Belgian efforts to destroy them. May the honor be borne forever!”
There were enthusiastic cheers as a third standard-bearer marched to the dais.
“30. Infanterie-Division encountered fierce Belgian resistance at Eisden early on January twenty-seventh, but shattered the enemy and overran him despite losses. May the honor be borne forever!”
The crowd echoed his words. “May the honor be borne forever.”
“33. Infanterie-Division led XII Armeekorps’ assault on the Belgian divisions outside Leopoldsburg, taking the city quickly and capturing twenty-five thousand enemy soldiers. May the honor be borne forever!”
A swelling roar now. “May the honor be borne forever!”
“1. Panzer-Division withstood Belgium’s counterattack in the Battle of Ath, before racing fifty kilometers along the French border to cut off the Ypres Pocket. May the honor be borne forever!”
It was a thunderous chant now. “May the honor be borne forever! May the honor be borne forever! May the honor be borne forever!”
The Führer motioned for quiet. At length, the chanting subsided. “2. Panzer-Division forced its way into Brussels, forcing the collapse of all resistance, and ending the war for Germany. May --”
His words were drowned out utterly as the Staatsoper again took up the delirious cry. “Forever! Forever! May the honor be borne forever!”
What the Führer had done to the audience seemed almost magical. As the crowd filed out of the opera house, the chant still thrummed in Scholl’s ears. He could no longer tell how much of it was coming from those around him and how much had simply been imprinted into his mind. He was not sure that even mattered.