To pay back the Obergruppenführer for his insolence, Eichmann challenged him to a duel. In principle, this was allowed as part of the SS tradition. Supposedly, however, the Gestapo officer never had any intention of shooting it out with his antagonist, but any challenge had to be approved by Himmler. The Reichsführer SS would in the bureaucratic way, and without anyone being able to call Eichmann an informer, find out how his “Wölffchen” was going down paths that were in contradiction with Party rules. We do not know what Himmler thought about the case. However, he refused Eichmann permission for the duel.
When in the summer of 1964 the accused Karl Wolff stood before the Munich Court, he said he had “never taken the Jewish-related paragraphs of the Party program seriously.” But he did agree that the Jewish influence had grown too strong in Germany during the Weimar Republic and should be brought down so that foreign races were proportionate to the rest of the population. The Jews were quietly spreading before 1933, and were pushing the Germans out. Even when he was over 80 years old, Wolff still spoke of the deteriorating ferment of “World Judaism.”
Megalomania as National Illness
A
s an older man Wolff drafted a timetable to prepare for his autobiography, and wrote, as a memo for “March 1939,” “increasing Jewish agitation [by the Jews against Germany] mainly leads to the occupation of Prague and the remainder of Czecho-Slovakia.” The same way Goebbels gave the press the written format of the State of Prague using a hyphen to underscore the ethnic division, Wolff also used to the very end the same lies to justify the invasion by German forces on March 15, 1939. As if Hitler, like the fabled wolf and the lamb at the brook, would always find a way to devour what was left of a nation. It had to be liquidated so that he could realize his plans to expand as a world power, if he wanted to be victorious over Poland and conquer Russia all the way to the Urals.
Understandably Wolff still glorified every event of the period because, for the first time, Hitler offered him a role raising him high above the faceless crowd. In retrospect, this role may appear insignificant and may only be decorative, but to the performer this was his first solo appearance on the world stage and also the opportunity to convince the supreme leader of his untapped talent.
In contrast to the invasion of Austria, this time Himmler and Wolff traveled together with Martin Bormann and Hitler in a special train to the
Sudeten Gau. In the Bohemian town of Leipa, the German chief of state got into his armored-tracked Mercedes. He was assured that no resistance would hold him and his armed forces up, after he had already pressed Czech statesmen into capitulation in Berlin. As usual, his Escort Commando was protecting him. They now wore the field gray uniforms. The convoy of cars that included Himmler and Wolff moved slowly through the Sudetenland, because the streets were lined with cheering crowds. On the other side of the Czech border, after 6 p.m., because of darkness and snow flurries in enemy territory, the convoy proceeded with caution. The streets were mostly empty, except for the military columns and small groups of Germans, with their arms outstretched in the Nazi salute, looking rather lonely between the rows of houses in a seemingly empty environment. Even in Prague no one took notice of Hitler’s column of cars, as he rode into the castle nestled on the Hradschin at about 8:00 p.m.
Together with Bormann, Himmler, and Wolff, Hitler was led into a room with a window offering a wide view. For a few moments he looked out over the Moldau Arch, the Charles Bridge in the foreground and, behind it, the city on the eastern bank of the river and, most notably, the Josefstadt—the Jewish quarter. The Czechs were cowering that evening; they remained invisible. It was their way of surviving the German dictator. The Jews did not have that opportunity, because the Gestapo commandos were already swarming out to hunt. Wolff saw the Führer standing at the window, his head back, fists clenched, enjoying the view of the conquered city. He heard him say, “Here I stand, and no power in this world will take me away again.” Hitler had spoken similar words of power a couple of times, on January 30, 1933, at the window of the Reich Chancellery for example, but Wolff had never been present until now. For that reason, the sentence, “as if uttered at a historic moment,” made a lasting impression on him. Hitler immediately delivered a historical addendum: during the Middle Ages Prague was the heart of Europe and it was said back then that whoever rules this city is the ruler of the continent. There was no evidence in history between 800 and 1500 to validate that statement, but it illustrated Hitler’s aspirations perfectly.
Just six months had passed when, on the eve of the Munich conference at the Berlin Sportspalast and broadcast to all German radio stations, he thundered away: “We want no Czechs!” No one in his entourage reminded him of this now at the Prague castle. They stood only in thoughtful admiration next to him and felt like participants in the newly acquired power. Hitler, however, could already smell the danger; he harbored no
illusions about the feelings of the Czechs. He would not put it past them to attempt an assassination or a coup. In addition, only a few German units so far had reached the capital. He ordered Himmler to secure the castle against all potential threats; therefore SS Gruppenführer and Lieutenant General Karl Wolff would become the castle commander. Hitler did not even stay at the castle for 24 hours, but Wolff with pride fulfilled the assignment, which entrusted him with the life and livelihood of the Führer, even for a short time. Since the SS guards in the entourage were not adequate to secure such a large area, he took over a battalion of motorcycle marksmen—an infantry unit on motorcycles. It was the first time that an army unit was under the command of an SS officer. Wolff enjoyed this even more when he recognized the commander of the battalion as an officer with whom he been in training during the First World War. That officer remained in the army since then; now he was major, far removed from the rank of general.
This assignment ensured that Wolff did not hear much of the political and military conversation taking place at the castle. He was busy through the night looking for weak spots in security within those old walls. Posts had to be set up to block off halls and paths; rooms had to be searched and roofs were secured. The huge cellar vaults with their underground connecting passages, a maze of tunnels, were a big source of worry. Someone could easily stack hundreds of pounds of dynamite beneath the rooms occupied by the Führer. And the overtired guards could easily fall asleep. All this responsibility kept the Castle Commander from getting any sleep at all during the night of March 15-16, 1939.
Before Hitler left Prague that afternoon, Himmler, Heydrich and Wolff were allowed to be present as several hundred German students from Prague University cheered him in the courtyard of the castle. Generals Keitel and von Brauchitsch were also allowed to be there. They could show off their latest medals for the first time: the Party emblem twined with a gold-plated crown. Originally it had been a decoration for older Party comrades with a member number under 100,000. Wolff had no reason to envy the generals, because he had been wearing that decoration since January 30, having rendered outstanding services to the Party.
Six days later, on March 22, 1939, he and Himmler were once again in tow on Hitler’s special train. One more piece of land was being added to the collection. There was a German song about an outpost in the northeast: “as far as the Memel…” But since the Treaty of Versailles, the city of Memel, on the river of the same name, and a long strip of the Baltic
coast were part of the sovereign territory of the Lithuanian Republic. They had taken over this area and its many German inhabitants through a military coup and kept it until now because no one wanted to risk a war over it. For Hitler, Lithuania was just a small fish compared to his previous conquests, but because he was cleaning up so nicely, he wanted to add 150,000 more people as well. The Lithuanians had hardly resisted his demand that the territory be returned to the Reich.
The special train went from Berlin to the Baltic port of Swinemünde, where they boarded the ships of the German navy, and set an eastward course towards the harbor of Memel. Himmler, with his staff and security commandos, had the assignment to advance from the East Prussian city of Tilsit into the land to be annexed by truck, ahead of the soldiers of the armed forces. Then, in Memel, they were to show the newly appointed mayor and police chief how to receive a Führer.
At the King of Prussia Hotel in the border city of Tilsit, Himmler, Wolff, Heydrich, and Kurt Daluege (the latter two responsible for the police) conferred until midnight. Then, in the first hours of March 23, their column of cars passed across the Queen Louise Bridge over the Memel, led by an East Prussian SS officer who knew the way. But the pilot was in a weaker powered car than Himmler’s in his heavy Maybach; the Reichsführer gave the order to pass the “snail.”
After a few kilometers, Himmler’s driver had to abruptly step on the brakes because the street in front of them was blocked off by a mess of wires. Soldiers in foreign uniforms darted from the right and the left out of the dark forest. They encircled the ten cars in the column, their rifles ready to shoot. No one understood their shouting and they did not respond to German commands. Wolff and Heydrich negotiated with gestures, spread out a map, and discovered under the glow of a flashlight that they were clearly inside Lithuanian territory, having missed a turn.
Before they could come to an understanding whistles sounded out of the forest, and the Lithuanian military disappeared into the night between the tree trunks. The column turned and reached the city of Memel two hours later. There everything went according to plan. Hitler landed at 2:00 p.m., held a very short integration speech from the balcony of the State Theater for those gathered, and awarded the former leader of the Memel-German ethnic group the golden Party emblem. After about two and a half hours, he once again boarded the ship back to Swinemünde. Himmler and Wolff drove around the countryside for a short time and took pictures of the new acquisition. It was not exactly impressive. Border
territories are seldom blessed with great riches, especially in the east. If the SS officer had gotten as far as the northernmost corner, they would have reached the new border crossing into Lithuania. They could have taken the town’s name to be a prophecy: Nimmersatt (never satiated).
Had Wolff still doubted by then that Hitler wanted to have his war now—which eluded him both at the Munich Conference and again in Prague—the coming weeks would clearly show what the future would bring. On May 13, 1939, Wolff’s 39th birthday, the Prague escort was assembled again; it included Himmler, Wolff, Bormann, and Reich Chief Press Officer Dr. Otto Dietrich. The family birthday celebration at Wolff’s home had to be cancelled, as the Führer’s special train left the Berlin Anhalter station that evening. The destination was the West Wall, a chain of military fortifications of the most different types—cement stubs to block tanks, machine gun bunkers, anti-tank casemates, guns, and howitzers—had been in construction for over two years, employing an army of workers and engineers. The concrete strip between the Belgian border and the bend in the Rhine near Basel required so much iron and cement that these materials were in short supply for private construction. Through weekly newsreels and newspaper articles, the German people were being told that no one could get through! That mistake would surface at the beginning of 1945, when the Allied armies penetrated the Reich from the west.
During the spring of 1939 millions of cubic meters of concrete provided the background of Hitler’s appearances. On May 14 he trudged with his satellites and the Wehrmacht general in charge in the area around Aalen and then on the heights of the Eifel. On May 15, they met above the Mosel where a large table was waiting covered with a white tablecloth. The Wehrmacht was inviting the supreme commander to lunch. The sitting arrangements went, as usual, distributed by rank; Himmler and Wolff were to sit in the middle table. Magnanimously neither sat near the Führer; they exchanged their seats with Wehrmacht officers from the side table, because in Berlin they “had already had the honor and privilege to see Hitler during meals so many times.” In spite of this, they could see that he enjoyed the classic field meal; that included peas and bacon. The vegetarian Hitler even had seconds.
The inspection tour did not end until May 19 on the upper Rhine near the Swiss border. From there the special train went directly to the drill ground at Munster, where generations of soldiers had been trained. Hitler expected more than the usual simulation of war action with a lot of shooting
and noise. On this May 20, the Waffen SS wanted to show him for the first time how far they had progressed in their war preparations. Felix Steiner, a Reichswehr officer who switched over to the SS, was directing the event. After changing positions, he showed how he wished future soldiers to behave in a battalion of the SS regiment
Deutschland
stationed in Ellwangen in Württemberg. In this training, instead of drills in the barracks courtyard, they did high performance athletics. Steiner strove for a “relaxed and elastic type of soldier with an athletic stance, but with above-average marching and fighting ability.” Instead of the cumbersome ’98 carbine, he preferred using submachine guns as firearms, along with hand grenades and dynamite, which on the whole were less cumbersome for the soldiers in combat. Steiner’s soldiers improved their physical condition with tough backpacking marches of over 65 kilometers, in part wearing gas masks.
Was he too hard on his men? His soldiers were volunteers whose status in the National Socialist state had not yet been legally confirmed. They were proud of their performance; they felt they were an elite, and loudly praised the camaraderie, teamwork, and the involvement of the officers. Steiner had left the army because he had made himself unpopular with his suggestions of total reform. Now, there were also generals from the army invited to see this showpiece on May 20 in Munster. What they saw was for them something truly unparalleled. An attack on an infantry position defended by trenches and wire obstacles using real ammunition rather than blank cartridges and where the impact of hand firearms, like machine guns using live ammunition and real hand grenades being thrown, was demonstrated.