Plotting Hitler's Death: The German Resistance to Hitler 1933-45

6. THE ARMY GROUPS

The western campaign was barely three weeks old and still in full swing when Hitler turned his mind to new horizons. On June 2, 1940, he spoke in General Rundstedt’s headquarters about his hopes of soon concluding a peace treaty with Britain in order to gain “a free hand” for what he considered his “great, true mission: the struggle against Bolshevism.”¹ Shortly thereafter, on July 21, he ordered the army high command to begin “mental preparations” for renewed operations in the East, which he considered launching as early as the fall of that year. This time, however, in contrast to his stubbornness after the Polish campaign, he allowed himself to be easily dissuaded from such an early date.

Above all it was his concern about the difficulty of waging a two-front war that made Hitler more uncertain and receptive. He had once said that avoiding such a predicament was a fundamental princi­ple of German foreign policy. To get around it, he now elaborated a risky plan to divide the war into two phases: first the Wehrmacht would turn on the Soviet Union and conquer it in a lightning strike, then, after gathering its strength, it would turn to the task of polishing of Great Britain once and for all. Hitler’s confidence in his luck and invincibility, and his obsession with his “true mission,” which now lay so tantalizingly near, eventually laid to rest most of his concerns, and any lingering hesitation was overcome by his anxiety about timing- “Time, always time!” as he later grumbled. In mid-December he informed Alfred Jodl that “all problems on the continent of Europe” would have to be ironed out by 1941 because by 1942 “the United State s would be in a position to intervene.” To Mussolini he said that he felt like someone who had only one shot left in his rifle as night began to fall. In his haste, before the final decision to invade had even been made, he ordered that suitable locations be found in the East for headquarters and command posts for the army groups and that construction begin “as quickly as possible.”²

At the same time, he began to make his entourage aware that this would be no ordinary war waged according to the traditional rules; it was to be a war of annihilation. His annoyance at repeated complaints from military leaders about atrocities committed in the Polish cam­paign led him to summon nearly 250 senior officers to the Berlin Chancellery on March 30, 1941, in order to explain this new kind of warfare to them. Everything they had previously experienced-the “flower wars,” the easy victories gained through happy circumstance and the battles fought on the wrong battlefields-was only a prelude, he told them, in a speech that was to last two and a half hours. The real war, his war, was about to begin. According to the notes taken by one of his listeners, it would be a “struggle of two ideologies.” Bolshe­vism was “equivalent to a social criminality, a tremendous danger for the future,” the Führer declared. “We must abandon the viewpoint of soldierly comradeship,” he cautioned. “What is involved is a struggle of annihilation. The commanders of the troops must know what is at stake.” He concluded by singling out Communist leaders and the secret police for special treatment. “Commissars and GPU men are criminals and must be treated as such. The fight will be very different from the fight in the West. In the East harshness is kindness toward the future. The leaders must demand of themselves the sacrifice of overcoming their scruples.”³

When Hitler finished speaking there was a moment of stunned silence. But he had scarcely left the room before the marshals be­sieged Commander in Chief Brauchitsch, talking and gesticulating wildly. No one had any doubt, it seems, about the real meaning of Hitler’s words. Brauchitsch stood firm against the waves of com­plaints and references to international law, saying he had already done all he could but Hitler was not to be dissuaded. According to a Statement that Jodl made at the Nuremberg trials, Brauchitsch and Hitler did indeed have a number of “very heated conversations.” Halder tried to persuade Brauchitsch that the two of them should resign together, but the commander in chief was incapable of making a decision of that magnitude.⁴

Hitler knew better than to rely solely on appeals for harshness. A number of preparatory guidelines were soon issued transferring the Wehrmacht’s responsibility for the administration of the occupied territories to special Reich commissioners. Heinrich Himmler and four Einsatzgruppen were commissioned to undertake “special tasks” arising “from the final battle of two opposed political systems.” The dry administrative language outlining directives for the planned “war of ideologies” could hardly disguise the extent to which the basic principles of international law and warfare were being thwarted. Two of the most infamous directives were the decree on military law and the so-called Commissar Order. The former transferred responsibility for punishing crimes against enemy civilians from military courts to individual division commanders, while the latter required that Red Army political commissars be segregated upon capture and, “as a rule, immediately shot for instituting barbaric Asian methods of warfare.” When Oster produced the documents at a meeting in Beck’s house, “everyone’s hair stood on end,” according to one who was there, “at these orders for the troops in Russia, signed by Halder, that would systematically transform military justice for the civilian population into a caricature that mocked every concept of law.” They all agreed that, “by complying with Hitler’s orders, Brauchitsch is sacrificing the honor of the German army.”⁵ In the first half of June, two weeks before the invasion was launched, the “Commissar Order” was issued to the staffs at the front as the last of a series of prepara­tory edicts.

Henning von Tresckow was the first general staff officer of Army Group Center, headquartered in Posen at the time. Those who were close to him all recalled the strong impression he made, his “leader­ship qualities,” “distinguished manner,” “sense of honor,” and “Prussianness.” These descriptions do more, however, to obscure his character than to illuminate it.

Next to Stauffenberg, he was the most remarkable figure in the military resistance, displaying not only the mental discipline and passionate moral sense of the other conspirators but also great coolness under pressure, decisiveness, and daring. The so-called Kaltenbrunner reports of the interrogations carried out after the July 20 assassination attempt describe him as the “prime mover” and the “evil spirt” behind the plot.⁶ Originally an admirer of National Socialism, Tresckow did not have to wait for Hitler’s blatant warmongering to see the error of his ways. The continual illegal acts, the persecution of minorities, the suppression of free speech, and the harassment of churches had long since turned him against the party. Unlike many others, he realized early on that the “excesses” of the Nazi regime were not excesses at all but its real nature. And with the same frank­ness with which he had once supported Hitler, he now began to criticize him. When one of his army comrades defended the regime, Tresckow vehemently disagreed and ended by predicting that a dis­pute like this could easily lead to their taking up arms on opposite sides some day. Indeed, the commander of the First Regiment of Foot Soldiers had once prophesied that young officer Tresckow would end up as either chief of general staff or a mutineer mounting the scaffold.⁷

At the time of the dispute over the western offensive, Tresckow attempted “in total despair” to organize a revolt. He urged his uncle Fedor von Bock, commander in chief of Army Group B, as well as Rundstedt and his chief of staff Erich von Manstein, to take action. But the generals “did not want to hear about any schemes directed against Hitler.” They were merely experts in military strategy, they replied, closing their minds to further persuasion. For the first time, Tresckow felt “contempt for the army leaders,” according to his biographer, Bodo Scheurig, and steeled himself to take matters into his own hands. But ironically, it was probably he who ensured that Brauchitsch and Halder did not scuttle Manstein’s “scythe-cut” strat­egy for penetrating deep into France with tanks and other armored vehicles, which later proved so successful. Tresckow’s former regi­mental comrade Rudolf Schmundt was now serving as Wehrmacht adjutant at Hitler’s headquarters, and Tresckow succeeded in per­suading him to present Manstein’s plan to Hitler, who immediately saw its daring ingenuity and revised the invasion strategy.⁸

Tresckow’s own plans for a coup began to take shape after he was assigned to Posen and the preparations for war against the Soviet Union had begun in earnest. He systematically placed officers who shared his views on the army group general staff, eventually filling all the key positions. First, to the astonishment and probably also the chagrin of his colleagues, he hired the strictly “civilian-minded” law­yer and reserve lieutenant Fabian von Schlabrendorff. Tresckow val­ued Schlabrendorff’s prudence and judgment and made him his closest adviser. Tresckow also had General Staff Major Rudolph-Christoph von Gersdorff transferred from an infantry division. Gers­dorff was a cavalry officer who, as Tresckow had discovered in the course of a chance encounter, agreed with him about the contempt­ible nature of the Nazi regime. Gersdorff combined rectitude with great presence of mind and courage, as well as a charmingly adroit manner. Tresckow also attracted two other majors, Count Carl-Hans Hardenberg and Berndt von Kleist, and Count Heinrich Lehndorff, a lieutenant, all of old Prussian stock. Eventually they were joined by Lieutenant Colonels Georg Schulze-Büttger and Alexander von Voss, First Lieutenant Eberhard von Breitenbuch, Georg and Philipp von Boeselager, and a number of others. It was later observed quite cor­rectly that the largest and most tightly knit resistance group of those years could be found right on the general staff of Army Group Center.

When the edict on the application of military law and the Commissar Order arrived at Army Group Center, Tresckow immediately had the commander in chiefs plane prepared for takeoff and went, with Gersdorff, to see Bock. On a pathway through a small park leading to Bock’s villa, Tresckow suddenly stopped. “If we don’t convince the field marshal to fly to Hitler at once and have these orders canceled, the German people will be burdened with a guilt the world will not forget in a hundred years. This guilt will fall not only on Hitler, Himmler, Göring, and their comrades but on you and me, your wife and mine, your children and mine,” he said to Gersdorff. “Think about it.”⁹

Bock, who had attended the officers’ meeting on March 30, 1941, must therefore have been expecting these orders, but he expressed outrage upon receiving them, repeatedly exclaiming “Unbelievable!” and “Horrible!” during Gersdorff s summary of their contents. Never­theless, he turned a cold shoulder to the suggestion that he immediately fly to Führer headquarters with Gerd von Rundstedt and Wilhelm von Leeb, the commanders in chief of Army Groups South and North, and disavow obedience to Hitler. The Führer, Bock said, would simply “throw him out” and possibly install Himmler in his place.Tresckow answered coldly that he could handle that.

After reflecting for a while Bock decided despite Tresckow’s constant objections to send Gersdorff to OKH (Army) headquarters in Berlin with the message that Field Marshal Bock vehemently protested the orders and demanded that they be rescinded at once. Since Brauchitsch was absent, Gersdorff met instead with General Eugen Müller, who informed him that the high command did not disagree with the army group. In fact Brauchitsch had already attempted on numerous occasions to have the orders canceled or at least amended. But each time, Hitler burst into a rage; during Brauchitsch’s last visit, he had even “hurled an inkwell” at him. “He won’t go see the Führer anymore,” Müller concluded laconically. Returning to the army group that evening, Gersdorff found Bock dining with his chief of general staff, Hans von Greiffenberg, and Tresckow, Hardenberg, and Lehndorff. When Gersdorff reported the failure of his mission a deep hush descended. Then Bock, who was the first to regain his compo­sure, remarked “almost triumphally”: “Let it be noted, gentlemen, that Field Marshal Bock protested.”¹⁰

Gersdorff later pointed out that if the commanders in chief of the army groups had jointly refused to obey Hitler, as Tresckow sug­gested, the Führer would have been forced to yield. It would have been impossible to replace such key commanders just ten days before the start of the campaign. We also know through Gersdorff that all the senior officers, at least in Army Group Center, objected to the orders and did what they could to prevent their being carried out. Tresckow made some attempts to influence the other two army groups in this direction. Considerable controversy persists, however, as to the extent to which these and other such efforts were successful.

Tresckow realized, of course, that opposition from army commanders could do little to prevent the Einsatzgruppen from carry­ing out mass murders behind the front. Army Group Center could, however, bring some influence to bear. Arthur Nebe, the leader of Einsatzgruppe B in its area, had moved in opposition circles since 1938 and had only accepted his assignment after great emotional conflict and largely at the urging of Oster and Gisevius, who hoped that he would be able to supply the opposition with information from the innermost sanctums of power in the SS. Nebe hinted to Tresckow that he intended to report his missions completed when in fact they were not. Ultimately, Field Marshal Bock came to an agreement with Field Marshals Kluge and Weichs and General Guderian that it was “undesirable” for the orders to be carried out. In the spring of 1942, almost one year later, the Commissar Order was officially rescinded.¹¹

Still, the army had hardly covered itself with glory. For the first time Hitler had tried to make it an accomplice in his crimes without receiving a clear refusal. Since the Röhm affair, the army had been careful not to allow itself to be drawn directly into criminal activities; at most, it exposed itself to accusations of standing aside and failing to help the victims. Now Hitler had succeeded on his first attempt in eliminating the distinction-still maintained in Poland up to this point-between military men engaged in traditional warfare and the murderousEinsatzgruppen. The one became caught up with the other in a war of annihilation that criminalized everyone who took up arms in the name of the German Reich. There could be no more talk of the sort that was common in the apologia written by former members of the Wehrmacht after the war, of having been “swept away” by events against one’s will and without sufficient knowledge. Hitler had without a doubt been encouraged to believe that he could get away with this final step by the supine resignation demonstrated by the generals over the years, their occasional outbursts of indignation not-withstanding.

This failure meant that the last opportunity of demonstrating to Hitler the limits to his power had been squandered. Brauchitsch would later claim that he sabotaged Hitler’s criminal orders by issuing special instructions stressing that a soldier’s primary duty was to fight and move on, not to engage in search-and-destroy operations. This strategy, however, amounted merely to a repetition of the failed tactic that the army had already practiced in Poland of abandoning conquered territories to the violence of the Einsatzgruppen and con­spicuously washing its hands of any responsibility for what would follow.

It is true, of course, that opposition would have had little more than a delaying effect. This is no excuse, however, for either Brauchitsch or the other commanders. They failed to see that the restoration of the long-lost moral integrity of the army was at stake. Their failure to act seems even more egregious in the light of the unanimous sense of outrage expressed by the officers, of which so much was made following the war. It illustrates not only the wide­spread awareness of criminal activity but also the broad support that a determined commander who refused to carry out orders would have enjoyed. It is difficult to comprehend why three or more command­ing generals could not agree to protest the orders as a body. It has repeatedly been argued that such a gesture would have been point­less, but it must be said that it was never really tried. Rundstedt’s aide, Hans Viktor von Salviati, remarked shortly before the Russian campaign began that almost all the field marshals were well aware of what was happening, “but that’s as far as it goes.”¹²

At 3:15 a.m. on June 22, 1941, Hitler launched the war against the Soviet Union under the code name Operation Barbarossa. He had enjoyed an unbroken string of victories, including the last-minute campaigns against Greece, Albania, and Yugoslavia and the brilliant expedition in North Africa, where Rommel had succeeded in less than twelve days in reconquering all of the Libyan territory lost by Germany’s Italian allies. Although these victories had fueled a wide­spread feeling of invincibility, a nagging sense of foreboding began to arise for the first time. “When Barbarossa starts, the world will hold its breath and keep still,” Hitler crowed just a few days before the invasion.

Most of all, though, it was the Germans who held their breath. Everyone sensed that the mission that had been embarked on was too ambitious even for Hitler’s formidable nerves of steel, his keen intu­ition, and his eerie ability to stride from one triumph to the next. For the first time, the feeling arose that he was setting out to achieve the impossible. “Our German army is only a breath of wind on the end­less Russian steppes,” said a staff officer who knew the terrain well. Almost all contemporary reports of the mood of the German people speak of “dismay,” “agitation,” “paralysis,” and “shock.” Occasionally, as one of the secret agents noted, there were “references to the fate of Napoleon, who was vanquished in the end by the vast Russian spaces.”¹³

As the German armies advanced, so did the Einsatzgruppen. They set about their work with such brutality that Colonel Helmuth Stieff wrote in a letter that “Poland was nothing by compari­son.” He felt as if he had become the “tool of a despotic will to destroy without regard for humanity and simple decency.” A gen­eral staff officer with Army Group North reported that in Kovno, Lithuanian SS squads had “herded a large number of Jews to­gether, beaten them to death with truncheons, and then danced to music on the dead bodies. After the victims were carted away, new Jews were brought, and the game was repeated!”¹⁴ Officers in this army group besieged their superiors with demands that the mas­sacres be halted. Similarly, the members of Army Group Center’s general staff, who had by this lime been transferred to Smolensk, urged Field Marshal Bock “with tears in their eyes” to put a stop to the “orgy of executions” being carried out by an SS commando unit about 125 miles away in Borisov and witnessed by Heinrich von Lehndorff from an airplane. Attempts were immediately made to stop the massacre, but they came too late. Bock demanded that the civilian commissioner in charge, Wilhelm Kube, report to him immediately and turn over the responsible SS commander for court-martial. Kube responded curtly that Bock ought rightly to be reporting to him and that he had no intention, in any case, of pro­ducing the SS commander. The army group could not even deter­mine his name; the commandant of army headquarters at Borisov, whom the army group accused of failing to prevent the slaughter, committed suicide.¹⁵

As a result of the massacres in the East, relations between Hitler and the officer corps, which had always been cool, despite a momentary reconciliation at the time of the great triumphs in France, began to deteriorate rapidly. “By nature I belong to an entirely different genus,” Hitler had once said-and the feeling was mutual.¹⁶ Hitler’s speech to the assembled officers on March 30 and the subsequent orders putting his message into legal language had conclusively re­futed the belief that Nazi excesses were the work of “lower-level authorities” carrying on behind Hitler’s back, a misapprehension that had long inhibited action. Now the resistance gathered strong new support. Yorck showed up at Army Group Center headquarters pas­sionately voicing his anger; Gersdorff finally overcame his lingering abhorrence of treason; Stieff turned away from the regime, sickened by what was happening. And it was apparently at this time, too, that Stauffenberg resolved to do everything in his power to remove Hitler and overthrow the regime.¹⁷ The biographies of several members of the resistance, especially the younger conspirators, show just how crucial the horrendous crimes in the East were in motivating them to act.

Differences of opinion over military operations soon erupted between Hitler and his army commanders, exacerbating the latent tensions that already existed. German units had succeeded, to be sure, in slicing deep into the Soviet Union and running up an impressive series of victories. Yet it was becoming increasingly apparent that each triumph only carried them further and further into the endless expanses of the Soviet Union, while the front was becoming more and more disjointed.

Attention therefore turned to how the army could use its available forces most effectively. Whereas the OKH and Army Group Center advocated a concentrated assault on Moscow, Hitler insisted on “pushing through the Ukraine into the Caucasus” and beyond to the oil fields of the Caspian Sea and Persian Gulf. At the same time he ordered the troops to advance in the north so as to cut the enemy off from the Baltic Sea. The fractious dispute that ensued did not revolve around two rival strategies so much as around one strategy and one fantasy, consisting of Hitler’s faith in his own invincibility, concern about increasingly noticeable shortages of goods and raw materials, and an unrestrained lust for land. By August 1941 general staff officers were already muttering about Hitler’s “bloody amateurism.”¹⁸

After a long spell in the doldrums the resistance was buoyed by rapidly spreading rumors about the tensions in Hitler’s headquarters. In the early autumn General Georg Thomas visited the army groups to assess their willingness to take action. He learned that the swift advance through the Soviet Union and the unease it was creating in the various headquarters prevented any serious planning for a coup. The idea of striking from France with Witzleben’s help was raised briefly but soon dropped. In late September Tresckow decided to send Fabian von Schlabrendorff to Berlin to let the circle around Ludwig Beck know that Army Group Center was “prepared to do anything” if a coup was launched. There is no doubt that this message vastly exaggerated current sentiments in the army group and was more an expression of the sense of mounting exasperation in the face of the increasingly pointed conflict between honor and obedience, the oath of allegiance and the barbarous methods of war. Schlabrendorff conferred in Berlin with Hassell, who noted in his diary the one truly notable feature of Tresckow’s project: for the first time in the history of the resistance “an initiative of sorts” for overthrowing the regime had come from the army rather than the civilian opposition.¹⁹

A few days later General Thomas and General Alexander von Falkenhausen, the military commander in Belgium and northern France, went to see Brauchitsch. They both found him surprisingly receptive to their ideas, probably not least because he was exhausted from the interminable wrangling with Hitler. According to an entry in Hassell’s diary, Brauchitsch acknowledged “what a bloody mess ev­erything had become and even came to see that he himself must be held partially responsible.”²⁰ As if a signal had gone out, activity within opposition circles immediately picked up. At meeting after meeting, “the overall situation was discussed,” Hassell recorded, “just in case…” Other preparatory steps were taken as well: ties were established with Trott, Yorck, and Moltke, and Hassell was requested shortly thereafter to visit Witzleben and Falkenhausen. After the somber mood of the previous months, spirits within the opposition finally began to lift. Tresckow even felt sufficiently encouraged to make a last, although ultimately futile, attempt to draw Bock into the resistance.

At this point the great Russian winter descended on the troops in the field, who were left without appropriate provisions, having charged ahead on the assumption that there would be “no winter campaign,” as Hitler had assured skeptics only shortly before. The German offensive literally froze in its tracks, and confusion spread across the front. With every ounce of the general staffs strength devoted to dealing with the situation of the troops, all planning for a coup ceased. The members of the resistance fell once again into such despondency that they even interpreted Hitler’s dismissal of Brauchitsch on December 19-undertaken in the hope of ending the festering conflict with the OKH-as a blow. The incessant swinging from high to low had so frazzled them that the few strong words Brauchitsch had spoken to Thomas and Falkenhausen had raised their hopes in him, making them forget the countless occasions when he had demonstrated his lack of courage and sown nothing but despair. Hassell gave the figures who appeared in his diary humor­ously appropriate aliases, and it was no accident that Brauchitsch’s moniker was “Pappenheim,” which means a habitually unreliable person.

As he had done in the past, Hitler attempted to solve his problems with the army by assuming supreme command after Brauchitsch’s dismissal, thus making himself answerable only to himself twice over. The reasons he gave for this step are equally revelatory of his arro­gance and his suspicion, as well as of his desire to bring about the ideological radicalization of the army, which had remained noticeably cool to his ideas. “Anybody can handle operational leadership-that’s easy,” he said. “The task of the commander in chief of the army is to give the army National Socialist training; I know no general of the army who could perform this task as I would have it.”²¹ Hitler used Brauchitsch’s departure as an opportunity to clean house in the up­per echelons of the army. A large number of generals and division commanders were ousted, and Bock was replaced as commander in chief of Army Group Center by Field Marshal Hans Günther von Kluge. Relieving Gerd von Rundstedt of command of Army Group South, Hitler installed Field Marshal Walther von Reichenau. For failure to comply with orders to stand firm during the winter crisis, General Heinz Guderian was dismissed and General Erich Hoepner expelled from the army entirely. The commander in chief of Army Group North, Field Marshal Wilhelm von Leeb, resigned voluntarily.

But Hitler’s nervous interventions and the insults and abuse he heaped on his generals could do nothing to dispel the specter of defeat that suddenly hung over the German forces. After striding for almost twenty years from one political, diplomatic, or military tri­umph to the next, Hitler suffered his first serious setback in the win­ter of 1941-2. The aura of invincibility that had surrounded Hitler and his armies, keeping them together and holding uncertainty at bay, began to dissipate. Always a gambler, Hitler had bet everything on a single card, and with the defeat before the gates of Moscow, his entire plan collapsed. The blitzkrieg had failed, as he immediately realized, and with it his whole strategy for the war against the Soviet Union.

Each step in the plan was predicated on the success of the previous steps. Just a few weeks before the invasion stalled, the general staffs had been made aware of a “preparatory commando unit” whose task would be to slip through the lines after Moscow was surrounded and assume responsibility for certain “security duties” in the heart of the Soviet capital. The unit’s leader reported to the army commanders that Hitler wanted Moscow razed to the ground. The eastern border of the German Reich would then be advanced to the Baku-Stalingrad-Moscow-Leningrad line, beyond which a broad, lifeless “fire­break” would extend to the Urals.²²

Defeat also put an end to the mission of the commando unit. Hitler’s daydreams of master and slave races, resettlement programs, mass exterminations, and the renewal of bloodlines were also shat­tered, as were increasingly monstrous and megalomaniacal visions of himself as a world savior, though he continued to propound them in his “table talk” and monologues over the ensuing years. His magic spell broken by this setback, Hitler realized much more clearly than ever before that time was working against him. There is every reason to think that his disputes with the generals had been prompted largely by his nagging fear that the hourglass was indeed running down. Judgment day was not yet at hand, as one contemporary observer noted, but “dark clouds were gathering.”²³

Ironically enough, the opposition, too, felt that time was working against them and deepening their dilemma. If they took action after a military defeat, such as had just occurred for the first time, they could probably count on more support from the populace, at least in the short term. But they also ran the risk of making a martyr of Hitler and so giving rise to another stab-in-the-back legend. None of the con­spirators had forgotten the poisonous effect of this legend on the government that was established after the First World War. On the other hand, by launching the coup after a string of military victories the conspirators ran the risk of operating without popular support in Germany, even if their actions opened the prospect of negotiating satisfactory peace terms. When Tresckow asked a friend what he thought the solution was, the friend responded that risk was inevita­ble and that “the most favorable time externally” was necessarily “the least favorable internally.”²⁴

As 1942 dawned, the conspirators faced the increasingly pressing question of whether a Germany that had rid itself of Hitler would have any hope of negotiating an acceptable peace with the Allies. The answer was clearly crucial, especially as far as the generals were con­cerned, and it had become all the more urgent since Hitler’s declaration of war on the United States on December 11, following Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor. A colossal worldwide coalition of powers was emerging that would sooner or later overwhelm the Reich. Furthermore, Great Britain and the Soviet Union had signed a mutual-assistance pact as of July 12, 1941, according to which neither party would enter into cease-fire negotiations without the consent of the other. One month later Prime Minister Churchill and President Roosevelt had announced the Atlantic Charter, which, notwithstand­ing its ringing declarations about peace, made plain their intent to disarm Germany for many years to come. Thus, even before the for­mal entry of the United States into the war, Beck, Hassell, and Popitz began to discuss whether it was not already too late for a coup. Even a government formed by the resistance, they felt, might “no longer be able lo obtain an acceptable peace.”

The plotters were probably well aware of the tensions within the Allied coalition, but this only heightened their fears rather than diminished them. It seemed most inauspicious that the various attempts to resume contacts with London after the French campaign had met with no response, and it was easy to foresee that as time passed and more people were killed, attitudes would only harden. As the likelihood of an Allied victory increased, the prospect of negotiations would grow even dimmer. This would remain true, the conspira­tors felt, as long as Moscow, London, and Washington did not agree on a joint policy toward Germany. Even if the Allies did reach agree­ment, it was likely that every dispute would be settled at Germany’s expense, for when coalitions of this kind seek a common denominator they usually find it in the harshest possible conditions for the van­quished.

Concern over the shrinking window of opportunity heightened the pressure on the opposition to act. During the summer of 1942, Ger­man forces again began scoring impressive victories, especially along the southern wing of the eastern front. This did nothing, however, to prevent heated controversies from erupting once more between Hitler and his generals. After an angry exchange, Halder was finally sent packing in September. Although he had long kept his mounting hatred of the regime to himself and no longer actively participated in the resistance, the opposition circles felt they were losing their last contact in the highest echelons of the military. In their notes from this period they write again and again of “little hope,” “few chances for success,” and “no initial spark.” Their generally depressed state of mind was such that they developed no plans and lacked any real drive or even a leader whom they all recognized. Exhausted by the contin­ual setbacks, they placed their hopes on the visibly worsening rela­tions between Hitler and the army, which they thought might prompt some as-yet-unknown officer to lead a revolt, and on the stirrings within Army Group Center.

Considering that the movement was led by experienced officers, it is remarkable how little planning had been done by this point and how much better the conspirators were at theorizing than they were at organizing. It was by no means easy, of course, to put together a resistance organization in a police state. Under the constant supervi­sion of a huge security apparatus, the movement faced countless dan­gers and difficulties: it had to keep to a manageable size and yet be broad enough to have players in all the key positions; it had to bring together large numbers of people who were both reliable and willing to run tremendous risks. As it grew, the danger of discovery through recklessness or betrayal mounted.

Enormous efforts were required just to build up and bring to­gether the three main hubs of resistance: the field army, the home army, and the civilian groups. In March Beck’s office was finally des­ignated as the headquarters.²⁵ At about the same time the conspira­tors scored perhaps their greatest success so far when Oster managed to establish close ties with General Friedrich Olbricht, the head of the OKW General Army Office and the acting commander of the reserve army. By nature and in manner a prudent administrative of­ficer, General Olbricht proved one of the most determined and reso­lute opponents of the regime. Perhaps because he lived by the maxim that “a general staff officer doesn’t make a name for himself,” he has never received the recognition he deserves for the role he played in the preparations for July 20 and in the actual events of that day.²⁶

In contrast to many of his fellow officers, Olbricht had supported the Weimar Republic and never allowed himself to be seduced, after the Nazi seizure of power, by any of Hitler’s successes or his hints of future rewards. It was typical of Olbricht that as early as 1940, at the height of Hitler’s triumphs, he had reached the conclusion that the dictator would have to be overthrown in a violent coup. Olbricht was motivated primarily by religious and patriotic considerations but also by the profound distaste of a cultivated man for the primitiveness of the Nazis and their moral unscrupulousness. He became the de facto technical head of the conspiracy, and it was his task to lay the ground­work for the government takeover to follow Hitler’s assassination. His removal would provide the much-discussed “initial spark” that would set the rest of the plan in motion.

With Beck, Tresckow, and Olbricht, the opposition at last had the foundation it had lacked for so long. Nevertheless, it was still very loosely organized, it faced enormous risks, and it had to follow many a circuitous path. The various resistance groups were continuing to op­erate largely on their own, and so, to bring them closer together and to facilitate coordination of their plans, Tresckow asked Schlabrendorff to act as a sort of permanent intermediary between Army Group Center on the one hand and Beck, Goerdeler, Oster, and Olbricht on the other.

Tresckow also placed high hopes in Kluge, the new commander in chief of Army Group Center. Tresckow’s relationship with Bock had soured for good after the field marshal cut him short during a last attempt to bring him over to the opposition; Bock had replied sharply that he would tolerate no further attacks on the Führer. Initial inqui­ries showed Kluge to be more alert, concerned, and accessible. He had sufficient insight to realize that Hitler was leading Germany and the Germans straight to catastrophe, and he was morally sensitive enough to be shocked by the crimes of SS and SD units behind the front. Furthermore, he was by no means submissive, occasionally even speaking out against Hitler’s interference in the struggle at the front and his increasingly obvious contempt for the officer corps.

Recognizing that any successful revolt would have to be led by an army group commander or at least by a well-known military figure, Tresckow from the very outset focused all his talent and persuasive powers on winning Kluge over. He ordered his staff to make sure that Kluge saw all negative information: horrifying reports about the Einsatzgruppen, news about fresh enemy units appearing on other parts of the front, and memoranda about the huge capacity of the United States for the production of war materiel. When, on the occasion of his sixtieth birthday, Kluge received a handwritten message from Hitler along with a check for 250,000 marks, Tresckow immediately suggested that he could only justify accepting such an amount in the eyes of posterity by claiming that preparations to overthrow the re­gime were already under way and he had to avoid raising the slightest suspicion.²⁷

It was not for nothing, however, that Hans Kluge (whose surname means clever in German) was widely known as “clever Hans,” a reference less to his raw intelligence than to the smoothness and pres­ence of mind with which he escaped from any jam. In the “dogged, drawn-out struggle” that Tresckow waged for his soul, Kluge would seem to yield one minute, only to slip away the next, to agree and then to disagree, to provide assurances and then to express surprise that he had ever done such a thing. Schlabrendorff spoke of Tresckow as a “clockmaker” who wound Kluge up in the morning “so that he would run and chime away all day, until by nightfall he had wound down and everything had to be repeated all over again.”²⁸ But Tresckow’s indefatigable efforts and the political and moral intensity of his arguments gradually succeeded in drawing Kluge closer to the conspirators.

Tresckow’s first major success was in persuading Kluge to receive Goerdeler in army group headquarters, a significant achievement as Goerdeler had never made any secret of his beliefs and virtually ev­eryone knew why he was so conspicuously on the move at all times. (Once, when General Thomas suggested that the chief of the OKW, Field Marshal Keitel, grant Goerdeler an audience, Keitel replied with horror, “Don’t let the Führer find out you have connections with people like Goerdeler. He’ll eat you up!”²⁹)

Using false papers provided by Oster, Goerdeler arrived at the army group after a daring eight-day journey. His enthusiasm and determination made a strong impression on both Tresckow and Kluge. One officer even claimed to see “the ice break” with the field marshal. In any case, Goerdeler and Kluge held several meetings, apparently considering, among other things, having Hitler arrested when he visited army group headquarters. Before Goerdeler had even had time to return to Berlin, however, Beck received a confidential letter from Kluge complaining that he had been “ambushed” by the visit and that “misunderstandings” may have arisen.³⁰ Kluge’s attitude was succinctly described shortly thereafter by Captain Hermann Kaiser, who kept the reserve army war diaries and wrote in his own journal: “First, no participation in any Operation Fiesco. Second, no action against Pollux [Hitler]. Third, will not stand in the way when an action begins.”³¹

By the fall of 1942 at the latest Tresckow had resolved nevertheless to stage an attack on the regime from Army Group Center. Appar­ently he hoped to sweep the vacillating Kluge along when the time came. Their conversations had convinced him that it was imperative not only to arrest Hitler but to kill him. Like Bock before him, Kluge always reverted to the oath of loyalty he had sworn; even Tresckow had had some difficulty in finding his way out of the maze of scruples. Patriotic and religious motives finally helped him and many of his colleagues in the military resistance to overcome those feelings. Hitler, Tresckow concluded, was not only the “destroyer of his own country” but also the “source of all evil.” Nevertheless, the issue continued to haunt Tresckow, and his insistence to the very last (he killed himself on the eastern front on July 21, 1944) that “we aren’t really criminals” betrays his misgivings.³²

For a time Tresckow apparently entertained the idea of simply taking a pistol to Hitler. He would either do the deed himself or assign a group of his officers to act as an execution squad. According to all indications, he never totally abandoned this plan, which seemed to him the bravest and most chivalrous form of tyrannicide. All the same, by the summer of 1942 he was asking Major Rudolph-Christoph von Gersdorff to procure a “particularly powerful explosive” and “a totally reliable, completely silent fuse.” Although Gersdorff had to sign receipts each time he took possession of such materials, he was eventually able to accumulate dozens of different explosives, which he, Tresckow, and Schlabrendorff tested in the meadows along the nearby Dnieper River. Finally they selected a British-made plastic-explosive device about the size of a book with a pencil-shaped detona­tor.

In late 1942 Olbricht indicated that he still needed about eight weeks to complete preparations for the coup and to have reliable units standing by not only in Berlin but also in Cologne, Munich, and Vienna “when the first step against Hitler is taken from elsewhere.” Shortly thereafter Tresckow traveled to Berlin to clear up the last remaining questions with Olbricht and Goerdeler and, most of all, to emphasize that time was running short. Tresckow’s impatience per­vades the notes taken by one of the participants. There was “not a day to lose,” he said. “Action should be taken as quickly as possible. No initial spark can be expected from the field marshals. They’ll only follow an order.”³³ Olbricht now gave early March as the target date and explained that Colonel Fritz Jäger would advance at the appointed lime with two panzer units to deal with the guard battalion in Berlin. In addition, Captain Ludwig Gehre had assembled a task force for special assignments, and the new Brandenburg division that was being organized in the Berlin area under Colonel Alexander von Pfuhlstein would handle Nazi Party forces. Friedrich Wilhelm Heinz, who com­manded the Fourth Regiment of this division, emerged from the shadows to which he had retreated in the fall of 1938. Gisevius was summoned to Berlin to assist Olbricht with the planning, and Witzleben, though seriously ill, agreed with Beck that he would assume supreme command of the Wehrmacht. This basic plan-an assassination attempt followed by seizure of key positions in Berlin and a few other centers-would be largely adopted once again on July 20, 1944.

Getting a bomb near Hitler proved to be far more difficult than originally Imagined, The Führer was growing increasingly distrustful and solitary, he seldom left his headquarters and then often altered his travel plans without warning. Arrangements were made for him to visit Field Marshal Weichs’s army group in Poltava, where a group of officers was also prepared to overpower him; he abruptly changed his route, however, and flew instead to Saporoshe. There, ironically, he barely escaped an attacking Russian tank unit that had run out of fuel at the edge of his landing field.

After turning down a number of requests, Hitler finally agreed to visit Army Group Center in Smolensk in the early morning of March 13, 1943, on his way from his headquarters in Vinnitsa back to Rastenburg. Shortly before the three aircraft carrying the Führer, his staff, and the SS escort touched down, Kluge suddenly sensed some­thing and turned to Tresckow, saying, “For heaven’s sake, don’t do anything today! It’s still too soon for that!”³⁴ In fact, Tresckow, believ­ing that the most opportune time had already passed with the battle of Stalingrad that winter, had taken the precaution of developing a number of assassination plans simultaneously. One of them called for a bomb to be placed in Hitler’s parked vehicle during the visit, but all attempts to slip through the phalanx of SS men to reach the car failed. A second plot was to be carried out if possible by Georg von Boeselager, who had begun assembling a unit near Army Group Center for use in the impending coup. Tresckow was apparently prepared to ignore Kluge’s concerns-so long as there was some assurance that the field marshal himself would not be put in danger-and had posi­tioned Boeselager’s officers and soldiers near Hitler’s SS units as ad­ditional “security.” In reality, it seems that they were supposed to open fire on Hitler if an opportunity presented itself.³⁵

After a briefing in Kluge’s barracks, Hitler’s party headed for the nearby officers’ mess. As one witness described the scene, Hitler was sitting with his head hunched over his plate, shoveling in his vegeta­bles, when Tresckow turned to Lieutenant Colonel Heinz Brandt, who was seated next to him, and asked if he minded taking two bottles of Cointreau back to headquarters on the flight. When Brandt readily agreed, Tresckow explained that they were part of a bet he’d made with Colonel Stieff and that Schlabrendorff would hand over the package at the airfield. When the visitors left shortly thereafter, Hitler not only took a different route than previously arranged, but also invited Kluge to ride in his car, thus ruling out any further action at this point. Meanwhile, Schlabrendorff sent Berlin the code word signaling the beginning of the operation and drove off after the col­umn of vehicles.

At the airfield he waited until Hitler had boarded one of three waiting planes, then squeezed the acid detonator and handed the package to Brandt. The bomb was set to go off in thirty minutes, and since the planes took off immediately, Schlabrendorff and Tresckow calculated that the explosion would occur just before Minsk. They returned to headquarters and waited for news of the Führer’s plane from one of its fighter escorts. But nothing happened. Having carried out countless test explosions during the previous weeks, not one of which had failed they were certain of success. But now two hours passed and still there was no word. The conspirators were waiting with mounting anxiety when a message finally arrived from Hitler’s headquarters: the Führer and his escorts had arrived safely in Rastenburg.

The reasons for the failure of the assassination attempt of March 13, 1943, have never been fully clarified. The major problem immediately facing the conspirators, however, was how to undo their plan and recover the package before an accident occurred or the contents were discovered. Tresckow decided to telephone Brandt. Coolly he asked him to hold on to the package-there had been an unfortunate mix-up. Schlabrendorff would come the next day on the daily courier flight to Rastenburg and exchange it for the right one.

Fortunately, Brandt still had the original package the next morn­ing when Schlabrendorff arrived, and the exchange was made. Schlabrendorff headed for the waiting train, which was to take him to Berlin that evening. Once in a closed compartment, he opened the bomb with a razor blade and removed the detonator. He found that the capsule had broken, the acid had eaten its way through the wire holding the firing pin, the firing pin had struck as intended, and even the percussion cap seemed to have ignited. But the explosive had not gone off. Among the theories that have been advanced to explain this mystery, the most likely is that the heater in the plane’s cargo hold had malfunctioned, as it sometimes did, and the explosive, which was sensitive to cold, failed to ignite as a result. The most promising assassination plot of the war years had come to naught.³⁶

Schlabrendorff and Tresckow were “shattered” by the inexplicable outcome of their attempt on Hitler’s life, for which they had run so many risks and spent so much time laying secret plans. Tresckow refused, however, to allow himself to grow despondent, nor did he following the failures that were still to come. Typically for him, he did not waste a single second bemoaning his ill fortune, and when an­other opportunity happened to fall into his lap just a few days later he seized it. News arrived from Führer headquarters that “Heroes’ Me­morial Day” would be celebrated on March 21 and that, after attend­ing a service in the glass-roofed hall of the Berlin Zeughaus, Hitler wanted to visit the exhibition of captured enemy weaponry in the same building. Since Army Group Center had arranged the exhibi­tion, Hitler expressly requested the attendance of Field Marshal Kluge.

It was much more important to Tresckow that Gersdorff be there, and since it was Tresckow’s department that had actually put the exhibition together, he had a perfect pretext to seek an invitation for the staff intelligence officer. Gersdorff was immediately summoned back to army group headquarters. When he appeared, Tresckow spoke “with the utmost gravity” about the situation and the “absolute necessity” of saving Germany from destruction. Then he abruptly broached the question of whether Gersdorff would undertake an as­sassination attempt in which he would probably be blown up him­self.³⁷ Gersdorff reflected briefly and agreed. Schlabrendorff was asked to remain in Berlin and turn over to Gersdorff the bombs he still had from the assassination attempt of March 13.

But from this point on, the plot-as promising as it seemed- would be plagued by misfortune. At first, Brigadier General Rudolf Schmundt, Hitler’s increasingly suspicious chief aide, refused to allow Gersdorff to take part in the visit or even know when the ceremonies were scheduled to begin (as Hitler’s inner circle was constantly re­minded, the divulgence of such information was punishable by death). Then Kluge had to be persuaded not to go to Berlin, even though he had been invited by Hitler himself, because Tresckow wanted lo keep him away from the assassination. Furthermore, when the explosive was turned over to Gersdorff, he learned that in the rush of events the usual short fuses could not be procured. Oster was asked lo help but could do nothing, so Gersdorff was forced to rely on the ten-minute fuses he had brought along just in case.

The memorial service began an hour later than scheduled. After making a short address Hitler walked over to the exhibition with Göring, Himmler, Donitz, and Keitel. Waiting at the entrance were Gersdorff, Field Marshal Walter Model, acting as Kluge’s representative, and a uniformed director of the museum. Gersdorff ignited the disc when he saw the Führer approach and kept close to his side as the Führer went through the exhibition. But Hitler paid scarcely any attention to the explanations Gersdorff wanted to provide about the objects on display. Nervously, as if scenting danger, he hurried through the rooms. Even a standard from the Napoleonic Wars that German engineers had uncovered in the riverbed of the Berezina failed to capture his attention. About two minutes after entering the exhibition, as a radio broadcast reported, Hitler abruptly left through a side door by the chestnut grove on Unter den Linden. Here, out­side the building, he finally discovered a captured Soviet tank and was so fascinated by it that he spent considerable time clambering around on it. In the meantime Gersdorff had rushed to the nearest wash­room, where he ripped the fuse out of the bomb. To catch his breath he went to the Union Club where he ran into the Cologne banker Waldemar von Oppenheim, who blithely related that he had just been in a position to kill Hitler as the Führer “drove very slowly in an open ear down the Linden right in front of my ground-floor room in the Hotel Bristol. It would have been child’s play to heave a hand gre­nade over the sidewalk and into his car.”³⁸

While all this was occurring at home, the war on the fronts had reached a turning point. Three disastrous defeats in November 1942 made this abundantly clear. Early that month the vastly superior forces of General Montgomery broke through the German-Italian positions at El Alamein, only five days before Allied landings in Morocco and Algeria presaged the end of the African campaign. Also in November, it became plain that Germany’s U-boats were losing the war on the high seas. And on November 19 two Soviet army groups launched an offensive around Stalingrad in raging snowstorms. Henceforth it would be the Allies who orchestrated the war, deciding where and when to attack.

On February 2, 1943, the bruised and bloodied remnants of the German Sixth Army capitulated in Stalingrad. While Hitler fell ominously silent and Göring conjured up a mood of impending apocalypse with dark references to the myth of the Nibelungen, many Germans began to realize that Hitler was no longer master of events. His bullying, threats, and vicious outbursts-for years the trivial secrets of his success-did not serve him anymore. Now, if ever, was “the right psychological moment” for which so many of the generals claimed they were waiting. For the first time, as one observer noted, Hitler was unable “to shirk responsibility; for the first time the critical murmuring was directed squarely at him.”³⁹ Beck sought out Erich von Manstein, commander in chief of Army Group South; Goerdeler contacted Olbricht and Kluge; and Tresckow attempted to win over Guderian and then spent some time on leave in Berlin to position himself near the center of activity. From inside besieged Stalingrad, the voice of Helmuth Groscurth was heard once again through one of his officers, whom he succeeded in having flown out. “Only an imme­diate attack against the Russians,” the messenger informed Beck and Olbricht, could stave off disaster in that “city of fate.” But Manstein refused, and the officer sent by Groscurth to Rundstedt found the visit so depressing that he abandoned all hope. Captain Kaiser suc­cinctly summarized the commanders’ excuses: “One will only take action if orders are given, and the other will only give orders if action is taken.”⁴⁰

A small group of Munich students were the only protesters who managed to break out of the vicious circle of tactical considerations and other inhibitions. They spoke out vehemently, not only against the regime but also against the moral indolence and numbness of the German people. Under the name White Rose they issued appeals and painted slogans on walls calling for an uprising against Hitler. They also established ties with like-minded students in Berlin, Stuttgart, Hamburg, and Vienna. On February 18, 1943, Hans and Sophie Scholl were arrested while throwing hundreds of leaflets from the gallery of the atrium at Ludwig-Maximillian University in Munich. Their motives were among the simplest and, sadly, the rarest of all: a sense of right and wrong and a determination to take action.

The Nazis, having long based their power on the assumption that self-interest and the fear of standing out would suffice to keep the population under control, were stunned by this effrontery. The Peo­ple’s Court, under its president, Roland Freisler, was sent to Munich for a special session. In a trial lasting less than three and a half hours, Hans and Sophie Scholl and Christoph Probst were sentenced to death. The executions were carried out later the same day. Their mentor, the philosopher of music Kurt Huber, suffered a similar fate a few days later, as did other members of the group. Although Hans and Sophie Scholl could easily have fled after dropping their leaflets, they submitted without resistance to the university porter who came after them shouting, “You’re under arrest!” Apparently they hoped to set an example of self-sacrifice that would inspire others. “What does my death matter if by our action thousands of people are awakened and stirred to action?” Sophie Scholl asked after reading the indict­ment. The only visible result, however, was a demonstration of loyalty to the regime staged right in front of the university just two hours after her execution. Three days later, in the university’s main audito­rium, hundreds of students cheered a speech by a Nazi student leader deriding their former classmates. They stamped their feet in applause for the porter, Jakob Schmied, who “received the ovation standing up with his arms outstretched.”⁴¹

In the meantime, back on the eastern front, Tresckow had so expanded his influence over Kluge that the field marshal had grown to tolerate conspiratorial activities in his immediate surroundings and not infrequently even supported them. As the military situation wors­ened, he seemed eager to discuss removing Hitler and overthrowing the regime, although he still preferred that the Führer be eliminated by “accident” or killed by an officer from far away, or even by a civilian. Tresckow resolved to go for broke. Strolling with Kluge and Gersdorff near army group headquarters, he suggested that “that man” finally be removed. When Kluge replied, as he had so often, that he agreed but could not bring himself to commit murder, Tresckow threw all caution to the wind. “Field Marshal,” he said, “beside you walks someone who made an attempt on Hitler’s life not so long ago.” Kluge is said to have stopped in his tracks, seized Gers­dorff by the arm, and asked in great agitation, “For heaven’s sake, what did you do?” As Gersdorff replied that he had only done what the situation called for, Kluge took “a few more steps, threw his arms out in a theatrical gesture, and said, ‘Children, I’m yours.’”⁴²

The field marshal did more than ever to support the conspirators during the summer of 1943, although he never acted without Tresckow’s prompting. He extended and strengthened his contacts with the civilian opposition, attempted to win the support of other military commanders, and dispatched Lieutenant Colonel Voss to see Rundstedt in Paris. Eventually he even sent Gersdorff to see Manstein in hopes of persuading him to take part in a joint action and asking if he would “assume the position of chief of the army general staff after a coup.” The records of the discussion in Army Group South headquarters in Saporoshe speak volumes not only about Manstein but about the attitude of most of the officers: their indecision, their narrow-mindedness, their ambivalence, and ultimately their servility. Gersdorff s notes begin with the short summary he presented of his mission:

ME: Field Marshal Kluge is extremely concerned about the course of the war. As a result of the antagonism between the OKW and the OKH and Hitler’s ever-clearer amateurishness as a leader, the collapse of the eastern front is only a matter of time. Hitler must be made to realize that he is headed straight for disaster.

MANSTEIN: I fully agree. But I’m not the right person to say so to Hitler. Without my being able to stop it, enemy propaganda has portrayed me as eager to seize power from Hitler. So he is now very distrustful of me. Only Rundstedt and Kluge could undertake such a mission.

ME: Perhaps all the field marshals should go together to the Führer and hold a pistol to his chest.

MANSTEIN: Prussian field marshals do not mutiny.

ME: There are enough instances of it in Prussian history…In any event, Prussian field marshals have never been in a position like the one they’re in today. Unprecedented situations require unprecedented methods. But we, too, no longer believe that a joint action would have any chance of success. In Army Group Center we have long been convinced that every effort must now be taken to save Germany from catastrophe.

MANSTEIN: Then you want to kill him?

ME: Yes, Herr Field Marshal, like a mad dog!

At this point Manstein leapt up and ran excitedly around the room shouting, “Count me out! That would destroy the army!”

ME: You said yourself that Germany will go down to defeat unless something is done. The army isn’t the main concern. It’s Germany and the German people.

MANSTEIN: First and foremost, I’m a soldier…

When, after a bit more discussion, I conceded that it was point­less to carry on, I remembered a modest proposal that Kluge had asked me to convey.

ME: Field Marshal Kluge also asked me to inquire whether you would agree to become chief of the army general staff after a successful coup.

Manstein bowed slightly and said, “Tell Field Marshal Kluge that I appreciate the confidence he shows in me. Field Marshal Manstein will always be the loyal servant of a legally constituted government.⁴³

As it turned out, Manstein had had a similar conversation just a little earlier, in the days following the capitulation in Stalingrad. Visit­ing Count Lehndorff at his castle in East Prussia, Tresckow had met a lieutenant colonel on the general staff named Claus Schenk von Stauffenberg and had described to him several vain attempts to win Manstein over. Stauffenberg himself wanted to give it a try, and Tresckow arranged for him to meet Manstein. But then, too, the field marshal merely dodged the issue. In response to Stauffenberg’s reproaches about the impending disaster and the responsibility of highly placed officers to consider the entire picture, Manstein recom­mended only that Stauffenberg have himself transferred to a general staff position at the front, in order to escape “the unpleasant atmo­sphere at Führer headquarters.” Manstein subsequently told close associates that he had had a “very brilliant conversation” with Stauf­fenberg, “but he wanted me to believe that the war was lost.”

Of their meeting, Stauffenberg remarked that, whatever Manstein’s answers were, they “were not the answers of a field marshal.”⁴⁴