Hitler also suffered from chronic flatulence. In his early forties he frequently had violent attacks of farting. By the mid-1930s he was the ruler of Germany and was still farting like a sick sumo wrestler. He wanted to control the whole world but could not control his own arse. Desperate not to become known as Farty Adolf, he accepted another quack prescription from Doctor Morell, called Doctor Koester’s Anti Gas Pills. They didn’t help much. Their promised relief was just so much ‘hot air’.
Goering and Morell had met and talked on many occasions, and the Field Marshall was confident the man could be recruited into the conspiracy through a combination of bribes and intimidation. After all, his real patient would be dead by then. The doctor would have little option once faced with the facts.
Morell would duly appear when summoned, and, after a preliminary meeting with Goering, (accompanied by his bodyguards, of course), would examine the fake Hitler. His diagnosis would be that the Fuhrer was suffering mild exhaustion from overwork. He would treat this, and a complete rest with no distractions and no visitors would be prescribed for the next four days.
At the request of his patient, Morell would take up residence in the bedroom next door so as to be available at any time of the day or night. He would have the honour of being assigned one of Goering’s own bodyguards outside his bedroom door at all times.
Over the next four days the only visitors allowed into the sick Fuhrer’s bedroom would be Goering, the doctor, and brief visits by a maid and one of the SS guards.
On 1 June ‘Hitler’ would be deemed recovered enough to return to Berlin, accompanied by his faithful doctor in a separate car. They would depart from Carinhall at first light. As usual they would be escorted by a contingent of SS troops.
Somewhere on the road between Carinhall and Berlin, at a predetermined isolated spot, Hitler’s car would spectacularly blow up, triggered by Baum himself. This spot would, coincidently, be close to where a regiment of Wehrmacht troops had stopped for breakfast. The Commander of these troops would be von Brauchitsch’s man and pre-warned. He would immediately take charge of the scene. Once he ‘discovered’ that the Fuhrer himself was involved, he would disarm and arrest all the SS troops. They would be taken to a secure location for questioning. Thus the news of Hitler’s death would be concealed.
The detained SS troops would be shocked and angry but would receive no sympathy from the regular army soldiers who had no love for these arrogant ‘toy soldiers’.
Immediately after this event, strategically placed contingents of the army would receive orders direct from General von Brauchitsch, and confirmed by Field Marshall Goering, to arrest certain key high ranking Nazi officials, beginning with Heinrich Himmler and Hitler’s two sycophants at his headquarters, Generals Jodl and Keitel. Everything was to be done as discretely as possible.
Over the following ten days, a military tribunal presided over by none other than Hitler’s loyal lieutenant, Field Marshall Goering, would try the accused ‘Nazi plotters’ for the assassination of Hitler and conspiracy to overthrow the state. The tribunal would be presented with fake confessions and evidence of widespread complicity in the plot. They would find the accused guilty, and have them immediately executed.
The assassination of Hitler during the attempted coup by the Nazis, and the quick resolute action by the army, aided by Field Marshall Goering, would be suppressed until the outcome of the Battle for France was certain. The German High Command believed that news of Hitler’s death would lower the spirits of the German troops, while simultaneously raising the morale of the allied forces still fighting.
Von Brauchtisch had to admit he could see no real fault with Goering’s plan. It seemed to have been thought out in detail. He had not thought that Goering was capable of such a thing.
“A question. Why would Baum willingly sacrifice himself?”
“Ah, a good question.” Goering was obviously pleased with himself. “Baum is actually Jewish. Also, he has been diagnosed with terminal cancer. He has at best, three or four months to live.
His family had been rounded up at some stage and interned in concentration camps. I have already helped his two sisters to emigrate to Sweden with the help of my younger brother. This earned the unquestioning loyalty of Baum. But he still has his father, a brother, and several aunts, uncles and cousins in the camps. In return for my guarantee of their freedom and relocation outside of Germany, together with a little money to help them settle, he is happy to end his own life a little earlier than it would be. And less painfully I should add.
A very brave man. I only wish there could be another way.” Said Goering sadly.
Von Brauchitsch agreed, but could not help wondering just how genuine was Goering’s regret for the need for Baum’s sacrifice. Privately he made up his mind to ensure Goering lived up to the promise made to Baum. As long as everything went according to plan. If it didn’t, he would almost certainly be too dead to help anyone!
They spent a little longer discussing a few more details, including Goering’s conditions for joining the conspiracy. Some compromise was needed. They eventually shook hands on a deal. Von Brauchitsch would have to submit everything to his co-conspirators later, but he foresaw no dissent. It was a workable plan. The only plan they had.
Goering left. The General relaxed for only a few minutes before getting down to work. Tomorrow was the start of the second stage of the Battle for France.
The sumptuous but somewhat reserved banquet was over. Adolf Hitler had been the first to offer his apologies, pleading pressure of work the following day. He may also have had other pressure worrying him — internal gas pressure. Both the Swiss and German Ministers of Finance followed shortly afterwards. The remaining guests conversed a little more openly, and imbibed of the excellent wine more freely, once the teetotaller Fuhrer had left the table.
It was one o’clock in the morning before Goering thankfully bade the last guest goodnight. He wasted no more time. He descended into the basement as fast as his fat legs would carry him, and entered the secret passages through a hidden door. There, his two burly air force troopers and Max Baum patiently awaited him.
After cautioning silence, Goering led the troopers through passageways and up steps until he stopped outside a concealed door. His ear against the door, he listened carefully. Nothing. Neither could any light be seen. Very gently he eased the door open on its oiled hinges. Still nothing. He stepped back and motioned the two troopers forward. He stayed where he was — very much afraid.
It all went incredibly easy. He heard a few slight sounds, some subdued scuffling, a muffled fart, then everything was deathly quiet. His heart was beating like a drum. Surely the whole of the house could hear it! He had taken an enormous risk tonight. Despite the coolness of the passage that he was standing in, he was perspiring freely.
One of his men reappeared after a few minutes. He simply nodded. Goering was almost afraid to enter the room but he steeled himself to do so. He had to see with his own eyes. He took a deep breath and moved into the bedroom. By the moonlight streaming through the large window he saw lying on the floor the body of the man he had followed faithfully for nearly twenty years.