The General had no great liking for the flamboyant and overweight Minister of Aviation, whom he knew to have some sort of drug dependency. Goering had been a distinguished pilot in the Great War. He had also been one of Hitler’s earliest supporters, but nevertheless was generally considered to be something of a political moderate. A closely guarded secret was that his younger brother, Albert, despised the Nazis and was in active resistance to their regime.
Over coffee the two men discussed various aspects of the impending military operation. Von Brauchitsch wondered where this was going? This had already been done. Several times!
Finally Goering got to the point.
“Walther, the real reason I am here is that there is a grave matter I must discuss with you. A delicate matter.”
The General looked at him and waited.
“This latest idea of the Fuhrer’s to invade Russia fills me with foreboding. I have tried my best to dissuade him from it, but he is adamant. He tolerates no opposition to his schemes. He accepts no advice. He even threatened to dismiss me from all my offices if I did not accept his dictates and obey orders without question.”
He leaned forward and in a low voice said, “Between the two of us I am uneasy about his state of mind. Success seems to have gone to his head. He is not the same man that he was a year ago. Leaders who brook no dissent are doomed to be surrounded by sycophants. That is not a recipe for success.”
Such talk was treasonous. If this reached Hitler’s ears, his retribution would be swift and merciless. Von Brauchitsch said nothing, just continued to look at Goering, who was now sweating like a pig.
He continued. “I came here to warn you that the ‘chicken farmer’” — a derogatory term for Heinrich Himmler, the feared head of the Gestapo, the secret police — “has some idea that there may be an underground movement opposed to Hitler. And that it may be centred around the army and air force.”
Himmler at some earlier stage of his life had tried his hand at chicken farming — without success. Hence the nickname.
Goering now seemed to be searching for the right words. He paused for a moment.
“A private source of mine has intimated that I should talk with you, Walther.”
He continued. “Himmler and his gang want to amass all of the power into their own hands. They want to be Hitler’s favourites and confidantes. To do this they have to eliminate all potential opposition, particularly in the military. This includes you and me.”
Von Brauchitsch had always considered Himmler dangerous. The secret plan was that he would be dealt with immediately after the Fuhrer. There was no way the man could be allowed to live. He was thinking furiously. How much did Goering know? What, if anything, did Himmler suspect? More importantly, what action should be taken?
Goering hesitated no longer. He took the plunge. “For Germany’s sake we have to act.” He held the General with a steady gaze. “Are we together in this?” He mopped the sweat from his brow with an embroidered silk handkerchief.
Von Brauchitsch hesitated a moment longer, and then committed himself. He gave an imperceptible nod to Goering. They were now co-conspirators. Their lives were now in each other’s hands.
Goering was immensely relieved. While he was reasonably sure of his facts, and the General’s opposition to Hitler, he had taken an immense risk so far. Now he could disclose his plan.
“While it pains me to say this, I think it would be an act of foolishness to allow Hitler to live.” He paused, “My thoughts are that his death must be made to look like an attempted coup by Himmler and his cronies. The Nazi hierarchy should then be immediately rounded up and dealt with. The public would accept this.”
Von Brauchitsch answered. “We have planned something similar to this. Selected army units will arrest the ‘Nazi plotters’ before any of them realise what has happened. They will be tried, found guilty, and executed.” His face was grim. “We, the army, have no love for the summary justice methods of the Nazis, but in these particular circumstances we can see no practical alternative, however distasteful the whole thing is.”
“Good. I am glad to see we are of the same mind. Obviously the biggest single problem we face is taking out Hitler. We are both aware that his security is second to none.”
Goering let a few moments go by. He wanted to surprise this dour General. “There is something you don’t know.”
The General waited.
“Hitler has a double.” That had the General interested!
“For the past year it was found on occasions, that it was expedient for the Fuhrer to be in two different places at the same time. An impersonator was found. He was also used where there was a risk of an attempt on the Fuhrer’s life. The resemblance between the two is amazing, and Baum, that is his name, Max Baum, has perfected Hitler’s voice and mannerisms to the point where their own mothers would not be able to tell them apart.”
Von Brauchitsch was astonished. He remained silent.
“There is something else you don’t know. On the twenty seventh of this month, the Swiss Finance Minister is making a secret visit to Germany to discuss a loan that has been requested by Germany. The Minister will be staying at my country estate, Carinhall. The evening before the discussions on the loan, I have arranged a banquet in the Minister’s honour. The Fuhrer has requested to be at the banquet.”
Now things were getting really interesting!
Over the next half hour Goering explained the workings of his plan. He had an answer for all von Brauchtisch’s queries and criticisms.
It seemed that Goering’s mansion outside Berlin, Carinhall, contained a network of secret passages, basically known only to Goering who had had them incorporated into the design for his home for his own perverse reasons. One of these passages allowed access to the bedroom that had always been used by Hitler on his previous visits.
The plan was for two of Goering’s personal bodyguards, both big strong men, absolutely devoted and loyal to him, to sneak into the bedroom while Hitler slept, and simply suffocate him with a pillow. They would then spirit his body away, again by secret passage, into the basement room in which was housed the large furnace that heated the huge mansion in the winter months. There the body would be burnt until it was reduced to ash.
Max Baum, now impersonating Hitler, would take his place in bed.
So far, so good.
Early the next morning Goering would arrive outside the ‘Fuhrer’s’ bedroom to accompany him to a light breakfast before Hitler was due to leave on his return journey to Berlin. The two SS guards guarding the bedroom, and the two additional air force guards supplied by Goering, would allow him to enter. The bedroom had been guarded constantly by them throughout the night.
A dishevelled Baum would still be in bed. He would tell Goering that he was feeling most unwell. Goering would immediately call in the SS guards, and in front of the fake Hitler, inform the guards that their Fuhrer was sick and that they were to arrange for Hitler’s personal physician, Doctor Theodor Morell, to be brought to Carinhall from Berlin. Immediately! Goering would remind the SS guards of their oath of loyalty to Hitler, and warn them to keep their mouths shut!
Doctor Morell was known by Goering to be something of a charlatan and quack. A man obsessed with unconventional treatments. Using dubious methods he had been lucky enough to cure Hitler of some minor but troubling ailments in the past, and by doing so, had gained Hitler’s confidence. He was an opportunist more concerned with money and status than providing medical assistance to people in need. He had an interest in a company that made a strange medicine called Mormutflor. One of the main ingredients of this was extracted from the faecal matter of a Bulgarian peasant. Morell prescribed this on a regular basis to Hitler for some digestive problems. It will never be known if the good doctor knew he was making Hitler eat shit.