The Many Faces of Opposition

 The opposition to fascism has many faces. 

A totalitarian state that suppresses freedom of opinion and systematically humiliates, oppresses and slaughters their victims, intimidates the majority into complicity and passivity. Even those few with the moral fortitude to resist are largely isolated in a brutally conformist society with almost no means to express opposition. In such a situation, sharing facts becomes an act of "rebellion," while even the smallest acts of kindness towards the victims of the state become a form of "opposition."

 

The German Resistance was qualitatively different from the other anti-Nazi resistance movements in Europe. The anti-Nazi resistance movements in France, Denmark or Poland, for example, were about freeing their countries from a foreign invader.  The German resistance—which, incidentally, started long before the War began much less was lost—in contrast, was based on moral outrage  rather than with conventional patriotism.

However, before anyone gets the wrong impression, there was not one "German Resistance Movement."  There were many Germans—from a whole range of different personal, ideological and political backgrounds, who were outraged by Hitler and his policies.  Some of these people opposed Hitler long before he came to power — most obviously the Socialists and Communists. Others, initially supported Hitler but more or less rapidly came to recognize the moral depravity of his regime.

Many opponents of the regime formed small cells of resistance based on common roots in the banned political parties, the trade union movement or the like.  Others came together over time as loose coalitions of like-minded people living in a sea of fanatical supporters, opportunistic hangers-on and informers.  The goals of the various resistance groups varied from the Communist cells that actively attempted to assist the Soviet Union establish a Communist regime in Germany to the unorganized individuals, who —at the risk of their own lives— tried to help the victims of the regime by providing false documents, safe-houses, food and other aid. 

The most important resistance organization, however, was a coalition of active and retired military officers and civilians who worked to over-throw the Nazi regime and replace it with a government dedicated to restoring the Rule of Law.  This conspiracy initially hoped to put Hitler on trial for his crimes, but gradually recognized that only Hitler's elimination would reduce the risk of civil war.  They made a number of assassination attempts between 1942 and 1944, the last of which nearly succeeded.

My novel, "Traitors for the Sake of Humanity,"  focuses on two strands of the resistance: first, the primarily military conspiracy that culminated in the only coup attempt against Hitler, that on July 20, 1944, and second, the humanitarian resistance that was loosely organized, non-ideological and essentially a personal commitment to decency — at the risk of one’s life on the part of each participant. Find out more and read reviews of "Traitors" at the publisher's website: Cross Seas Press.

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Tribute to the German Resistance to Hitler

On July 20, 1944, Germans appalled by the moral depravity of the Nazi regime, made the last of many attempts -- going back to before the Second World War -- to remove Hitler from power. A bomb was detonated in Hitler’s bunker and a military coup set in motion. Because Hitler survived the blast, the plot failed. The conspirators were arrested, tortured and killed, but they should not be forgotten.

I wrote my PhD about one of those conspirators, General Friedrich Olbricht.  In addition, based on a decade of research and hundreds of interviews, I wrote a novel that tells the story of these brave individuals who risked their lives to fight against one of history’s most dangerous and oppressive regimes from the inside: Hitler’s Demons.

Here is an excerpt from that novel describing the hero’s decision to join the conspiracy.

It was raining the next morning, which encouraged them to stay in bed. They called room service for breakfast, and lay in bed talking and making love alternately until the sun came out about noon. Then they decided to go down for lunch and take a walk. They bathed, dressed and went downstairs. It was a mistake.

Sauckel and the men meeting with him had just started their lunch break. The lobby was awash with brown uniforms, and the unfortunate other guests passing in and out felt compelled to raise their arms and bark “Heil Hitler!” Philip’s mood was instantly shattered. Alix watched with concern and growing sense of helplessness as his face closed and his lips grew thin.

In the dining room there was not one table free, and the waiter offered to seat them at a table for four at which one man was sitting alone. As it was already quite late and the lone man was a civilian, Philip agreed. They were taken over by the waiter and introduced themselves. The man stood, bowed to Alexandria, and shook hands with Philip. “Heinrich Froehlich,” he introduced himself, “Chief of Personnel at Siemens.”

“And what brings you to Baden-Baden?” Philip asked politely.

“The gentlemen behind us,” the businessman answered candidly. “If we aren’t to be starved of labor, I have to ensure the goodwill of Sauckel and his underlings. That can’t be done nowadays without personal contact – and, of course, the appropriate payments.”

“Bribes, you mean,” Philip corrected acidly.

The businessman shrugged. “It’s the way it is.”

From the neighboring tables, the conference participants complained about the lack of fresh strawberries and the limitations of the wine menu. Philip lost his appetite, and there was nothing Alexandra could do but cut lunch short and depart.

Outside, Alexandra took her husband’s hand and smiled at him, trying to break through his gloom. He smiled back, but it was an absent smile – an alibi, while his thoughts lingered elsewhere. They walked hand in hand through the park, Alexandra chatting to distract Philip. He made an effort to  listen, but after a while he gave up and admitted, “Alix, I can’t stand it. Even here everything has been poisoned by that brown filth.” He indicated the benches with the “for Aryans only” painted on them, the troop of little boys in the uniform of the Jungvolk, and the SS soldiers opening the doors of the black Mercedes disgorging brown-uniformed passengers and “glamorous” women before the Casino.

“Is this what so many men are dying for out there? A Germany where only the corrupt have power? Where helpless patients are murdered and  young girls are turned into whores by the nations ‘leaders’? Is this what Christian and I are supposed to die for?” He was looking at his wife as if he expected her to give him an answer.

Alexandra’s first reaction was sheer panic. How could she answer such a question? But if she didn’t find an answer, their precious time together was going to be ruined by the oppressive shadow of the regime. Then she realized that she did have an answer: she had to tell him about Valkyrie. She had to tell him that decent people were working to put an end to this rule of terror. She had to share with him the reason she felt hopeful for the future. She had to tell him what she was risking, or their whole marriage would be based on a lie.

But she was afraid he might not approve of what she was doing. She avoided his sharp, penetrating eyes by putting her arms around him and leaning her head on his chest. “No, Philip,” she whispered, “it’s not what you are meant to die for. The war has to be stopped….”

Philip took her words for a helpless attempt to deny reality. He tightened his arms around her, ashamed of himself for ruining her honeymoon. Alexandra clung to him; her heart beating rapidly. She was suddenly very, very afraid of Philip’s reaction. Philip could sense her fear, and he assumed it was just his talk of death. He gently tried to pry Alexandra away from his chest so he could look into her face, but she resisted tenaciously. He would have had to use more force than he was willing to use with her, so he gave up and said, “Forgive me.”

“It’s not that. It’s…”

Philip asked gently, “What is it, Alex? Tell me.”

“I have a confession to make.”

“I’m listening,” he waited, holding her patiently.

“Philip,” she started in a timid voice, very frightened that he would angrily order her to stop her activities. If he did that, she would never forgive him. “General Olbricht asked me to type up some top-secret plans – plans for putting down a forced laborers’ revolt or to eliminate an enemy commando raid in the center of Berlin. But that’s not what they’re really about….” He voice faded away, afraid to be more articulate.

Philip hesitated and then asked sharply, “Is Tresckow part of these plans?”

“Yes, but I don’t know Oberst Tresckow’s role. There are lots of things I don’t know. I don’t know the names of the civilians who are working on the plans for what comes afterwards. I don’t know what Admiral Canaris and Oberst Oster have to do with things. And although I know that Oberst Tresckow is kept informed of developments, I don’t know why. The plans themselves are being worked out in AHA.”

Philip had stopped breathing. Then speaking very slowly and softly, he told her: “Tresckow wants me to help him with these plans…. Would you approve of that?”

Alexandra looked up, hardly daring to believe her ears. Philip wasn’t just willing to let her continue; he would be part of it. They would be working together. “Of course!”

“What do you mean ‘of course’? We’re talking about me breaking my oath and committing High Treason!” he rebuked her.

“It may be treason against the government, but not against the nation, Philip. We’re talking about putting an end to the murder of innocent people and stopping the senseless sacrifice of others – like Christian and Stefan.”

“Only if we succeed. The chances of success are pitiable.”

“Maybe. Personally, I think General Olbricht is brilliant. And the supplementary orders – things like closing the Concentration Camps and the arrest of Gauleiter – are being handled by Uncle Erich and Generaloberst Beck.”

“Beck? Generaloberst Ludwig Beck is involved?” Philip took as step back, holding Alexandra at arm’s length and searching her face intently.

She nodded, meeting his eyes. “Olbricht always refers to him as the CO of the Operation.”

“Beck, Olbricht, Hoepner, Tresckow – good company to die in.” Philip managed  a little twitch of his lips as if he were trying to smile.

“Better than for the Fuehrer,” Alexandra insisted.

“There’s a difference. On the front I die alone. As a traitor, I drag you down with me.”

“I’m already there, Philip.”

“No, you’re not. As Olbricht’s secretary, you can always say you were just doing your job – following orders. You can claim you never had any reason to think the plans went beyond their official purpose. But if I join this conspiracy, they’ll never believe that. You’ll pay the same price as I. You could be tried for treason and beheaded.”

In an impulsive and passionate gesture, Alexandra reached up and took Philip’s head in her hands. She went on tiptoe to kiss him. “That you would hesitate on my account is flattering, but I can’t love you because you’re a man of conscience and character, and then expect you to behave like an opportunist. In the midst of so much death, I want to believe there is something worth dying for, and you can’t go on as you have been. You can’t continue to serve a criminal regime without it destroying you. Don’t you see, Philip? Only this can give our lives meaning.”

“What about our love?”

“What chance has our love in a world poisoned by moral depravity on this scale? Just think of the last two days: all our love couldn’t change the world around us, and it has ruined our wedding. Without hope for a better future, why should we go on living at all – much less have children?”

She was right, Philip realized with a touch of surprise. How could he have been so stupid? She was right, and so was Tresckow. The fight against the Nazis was not a military operation, which should only be risked if the chance of success was better than 50/50. Joining this conspiracy was the only means of saving his sanity -- and soul.

July 20, 1944 and the Conspiracy against Hitler

On the 68^th anniversary of the coup attempt by the German Resistance against the Nazi Regime, I’d like to share an excerpt from my novel Hitler’s Demons.

May 1944

Herr v. Rantzow opened the door himself, and Alexandra followed the sound of her mother’s sobbing. In the entryway an obviously distraught and helpless Herr v. Rantzow murmured to Philip, “She hasn’t stopped crying since the news came. Nothing I can say seems to comfort her at all. She’s making herself ill!” For the first time since they had met, Philip and his father-in-law understood one another completely.

Alexandra went down on the floor before her mother and laid her head in her mother’s lap. Her mother bent forward, wrapped her daughter in her arms and sobbed, “Oh, Alix, only you understand. I’ve lost your father all over again. But at least your father had time to marry and have children – they took all that away from Stefan. Stefan’s been killed before he had a chance to live!”

“That’s not true, Mutti,” Alexandra told her gently but firmly. Sitting up, she looked her mother in the eye. “I don’t know anyone who was more alive than Stefan, or who loved life more. That’s why it’s so hard to lose him. But you can’t really believe that so much life and energy and love are really gone? He’s here with us right now – and we’re probably making him feel terribly guilty for causing us so much grief.” Tears were streaming down her face as she spoke, but her voice was steady.

Frau v. Rantzow clutched her daughter’s hands in hers, her lips trembled, and her face glistened with tears as she asked, “Do you really think so?”

Alexandra nodded, “Yes.”

Shortly after dinner, Alexandra took her mother up to bed and stayed with her until she fell asleep. She returned downstairs and joined Philip and her stepfather in his study. They were drinking cognac, and Alexandra asked for sherry. Her stepfather poured, standing in his perfectly tailored suit, even now the elegant diplomat in a winged collar with graying sideburns. “I must thank you, Alexandra,” he admitted as he brought her the sherry. “You’ve been wonderful.”

Alexandra took the sherry in the cut crystal glass and smiled sadly up at her stepfather. “It isn’t me, really. I’m just a bit of Stefan still alive.”

“Nonsense,” her stepfather contradicted, “you’ve been a great help. It’s just all so pointless! This whole stupid war and all the senseless sacrifice!” Herr v. Rantzow’s nerves, kept in check by the need to support his wife, now cracked. His hands clenched around the heavy tumbler until his knuckles were white. “If only the Western Allies would land! Why are they taking so long? Don’t they realize that if they wait too long, the Eastern Front will collapse and the Russians will win the war without them? The sooner they land, the sooner the war will be over!” 

Without giving anyone a chance for comment, Rantzow continued in an angry voice, “You can be sure it’s the damned Americans who are hanging back. They’re so afraid of casualties! Afraid that public support for the war will crumble as soon as the bodies start coming home. You know they ship their dead soldiers home, don’t you?” Herr v. Rantzow asked Philip. Philip hadn’t known; he shook his head. “They’re that rich and that spoiled that they actually collect their dead and send them home all the way across the Atlantic at government expense! What a bizarre people – so spoiled and soft and naïve, and yet so dangerous. Once they land, the war won’t last more than a few weeks. They have more men, armor and ammunition than the Soviet Union, and because they cannot afford a long war, they will throw everything they have at us. I tell you, once the Americans land in France, the war will be over in weeks. If only they had landed months ago!” Herr v. Rantzow’s voice cracked, and it took Alexandra a second to realize he was crying.

She had never seen him cry before, and she hesitated. She cast Philip a helpless glance and then went over and gently laid her arm around her stepfather’s waist. He had dropped his face in his long, elegant hands with the signet ring and he left it there, accepting but not returning Alexandra’s gesture. Between clenched teeth he managed to say, “I’m so sorry, Alix. I’m so sorry Stefan will never know a better Germany than the one he died for.”

…

Alexandra asked Philip to go for a walk with her around Lake Grunewald in the fading light of the long summer day. They took the bewildered family dog with them. The sky was luminous and the stars were coming out; the forest was black. Alexandra could walk neither fast nor far in her condition, but she needed the fresh air. Soon they found a bench and sat down. Alexandra had her arm through Philip’s. “Philip, don’t be angry with me,” she started timidly, “but I’ve started to wonder if Graf Moltke isn’t right after all. I mean, what if we make our coup and then get blamed for losing the war? Won’t all the Nazis then be stronger than ever? Won’t they destroy whatever government we try to establish? I don’t even know what Moltke and his friends  have thought up, do you?”

“I’ve heard some things. There is no one plan, really – just a lot of ideas. That is, everyone agrees we have to have a government based on the Rule of Law – a constitution that guarantees basic human rights such as equality before the law and freedom of religion, association and movement. Almost everyone agrees that we have to have a state based on the fundamental principles of Christianity, such as respect for life and for our fellow man and responsibility toward the weak and poor. But, as you know, the devil is in the detail. There are some people who argue that we need to restore a monarchy, because Hitler’s success demonstrates that Germans need a ‘leader,’ and if they don’t have a hereditary one, they will follow every megalomaniac that comes along. Others want to see American style democracy, and others favor Socialism. Claus is throwing his weight in with the Socialists at the moment.”

Alexandra actually managed a smile, even if it was a sad, weary smile. “The Revolutionary Count – it suits him. Can’t you picture Claus with Robespierre?” Philip looked at her in astonishment, unable to follow her intuition when she gave it free rein like this. “And where does General Olbricht stand?” she asked.

“As so often, we have much the same opinion.”

“Which is?”

“Olbricht told Claus: first act, then we’ll see who’s left over.”

“But, Philip, if my stepfather’s right – if the war isn’t going to last more than a few weeks after the Americans land in France – then why not let them win the war? Why risk the lives of the very best men Germany has? Beck and Tresckow, Olbricht and Uncle Erich – and you? Why not let Hitler sign this merciless Unconditional Surrender an take the blame for the war he started and lost? Why should Beck or Olbricht – who were always against the aggression – be forced to swallow the bitter pill?”

Philip held her closer to him and kissed the top of her head. He understood her thinking. With Stefan already dead, her compulsion to shorten the war – even if only by a single day – had eased. Instead, she saw that he was in a relatively safe staff position and was at greater risk from a failed coup than a marginally prolonged war. Her logic was impeccable, as usual, but he shook his head nevertheless. “First of all, your stepfather underestimates us. The Americans may have endless material resources, but their troops and officers are inexperienced. I think we may be able to hold both fronts for as long as six to eight months after the Americans land – and they haven’t done that yet. So the war could go on another nine to ten months. In that time, we could have lost another half-million men on the front and maybe half that again to the air raids.” He dropped his voice, “And then there are the Concentration Camps and the Death Camps. We’re systematically slaughtering people, Alix – as if they were animals with an infectious disease….” His voice faded in the darkness.

“You mean the Einsatzkommandos?” Alexandra asked.

“No, I mean we’ve built special slaughterhouses for people. The SS is diverting rolling stock – which we desperately need to keep the Eastern and Italian fronts supplied with ammunition and other war supplies – to transport people to these camps. They transport people in freight cars and herd them into large chambers and gas them.”

Alexandra wanted to say: “That can’t be!” – but it was too horrible for Philip to have made it up. “How do you know?”

“Olbricht told me. I don’t know his source. It doesn’t matter. After what I saw the Einsatzkommandos do, it’s impossible to question this. And we have to stop it. Or at least try to stop it. Or maybe just demonstrate before God and the Allies and history that German officers opposed these measures. The coup isn’t just about stopping the war – at least that’s not what it’s about for Olbricht or Tresckow anymore. It’s about taking a moral stand against a regime that is morally depraved. It’s about – if you like – trying to save Sodom and Gomorrah by finding ten just men, who are willing to stand up and be counted – even if it costs them their lives.”

Alexandra gazed at her husband in frightened awe. It was almost completely dark, and his face was in shadow. She could make out the curve of his dark hairline against his high forehead, the glasses hiding his eyes, and the set of his lips. She was frightened and she shivered, but she could not protest. She had set him on this path. She had supported him at every step. What right did she have to lose heart now?

Philip took her hand and entwined his fingers in hers. “Now do you understand why I’ve been so selfish? So reluctant to let you take our child to safety in Altdorf?”

All her nightmares were true. After she left Berlin, she would never see him again. “When?”

“Just as soon as our current volunteer assassin gets access to Hitler.” 

Hitler's Demons -- Love in Nazi Germany

The following is an excerpt from Hitler's Demons, Chapter 13:

"Alexandra, this sounds serious."  In all the years they had known each other, Alexandra had only fallen in love once -- and that had ended in catastrophe.  Thereafter, she dated only occasionally, and nothing seemed to really "take off." Lotte knew that Alexandra was still a virgin.  In consequence, Lotte felt Alexandra was terribly inexperienced when it came to men, and was instantly protective. "Is he married?"

"Lotte! You know I wouldn't go out with a married man."

"But I thought all officers married when they were lieutenants or captains or whatever? At least that's what you told me not three months ago," Lotte reminded her. Lotte, like Alix's mother, had immediately assumed that [Alix's job at General Staff HQ] would be an ideal place for Alix to meet a suitable young man, but Alexandra had dismissed the idea on the grounds that the officers with whom she had to deal were too senior not to be married already.

"Most do," Alexandra admitted.

"So what's wrong with your major? What did you say his name was?"

"Feldburg, Philip Freiherr von Feldburg."

Lotte whistled and sat back in her chair, her attention focused intently on her friend. "Go on."

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me more. For example, how long has this been going on?"

"There's nothing going on, Lotte. Major v. Feldburg joined the AHA about two months ago. Over the last six weeks, he's asked me out every weekend except the one when he was Duty Officer."

"That sounds good."

Alexandra sighed. "I know, but it isn't what it sounds like. He still used the formal form, and he's never touched more than my elbow -- to help me in or out of a taxi or across a street or whatever."

Lotte frowned. She didn't like the sound of this. Alexandra was an attractive young woman, and it was clear to her that a serious suitor should have been more ardent. Then again, Alexandra's good looks might intimidate an ugly man. "What does he look like?"

"Dark hair, dark-grey eyes, fine classical face, glasses."

"Attractive?"

"Very."

"I supposed he might just prefer boys. There are men --"

Alexandra was so indignant in her denials that Lotte instantly knew Alexandra's heart was lost -- even if she didn't know it herself yet. She sipped her champagne thoughtfully and listened carefully as Alexandra finally started to pour her heart out. Alix was always like that. She needed to be encouraged at first, but when she'd overcome her inhibitions, she would speak with feeling and openness.

"I honestly don't know what ot make of him, Lotte. He's everything I thought I hated when I was at university." She gestured vaguely to the room around her to refer to that stage of her life. "He's not only an aristocratic land-owner, he's a General Staff officer and he's Catholic. There are times when he's so formal that it drives me mad! But there's nothing haughty about him -- or even arrogant. Nor is he the list bit bigoted. I swear, Lotte, he's given more thought to a wider range of topics than most students or even professors. He's amazingly well-read, despite his lack of university education, and what's more, he tries to analyze and understand concepts -- like the key elements of education, the essence of leadership, the relevance of religion in warfare, etc. etc."

Lotte laughed, and Alexandra stopped talking, offended.

Lotte reached out and patted her arm. "I'm not laughing at you, Alix. I just find it amazing how different we are! Can you picture me raving about some man who wanted to talk about religion and leadership?" Alexandra had to giggle at the thought. Lotte nodded and insisted seriously. "Go on. Tell me what it is you like best about your young man."

Alexandra hesitated, took her time considering her answer, and then decided, "It's that he has no patent answers and seems genuinely interested in my opinions. He doesn't lecture to me, Lotte. He really listens to what I have to say." Alexandra sounded amazed by this, and Lotte knew it was the old wound. Alexandra was continuing, however, unable to restrict Philip's virtues to a single point. "He's reliable. He's trustworthy. He has a strong sense of responsibility, and even if we disagree about this or that on the surface, our basic values are the same."

"So what's wrong with him?" Lotte challenged.

Alexandra shrugged, sighed and played with the empty Sekt glass.  "He still calls me 'Frl. v. Mollwitz' and at times -- despite his rank, title and decorations -- he seems outright diffident."

"Alexandra," Lotte leaned forward, placed her elbows flat on the table, and folded her hands together. "I want an honest answer: Have you ever done anything to encourage him?"

"What do you mean? I've always accepted his invitations."

"Well, does he see you home?"

"Of course."

"To your apartment?"

"Yes."

"And do you invite him up for coffee or a glass of wine?"

"Of course not! He might get the wrong idea! I'm not like you, Lotte; I couldn't deal with having one affair after another. I couldn't go through an abortion to save my life, and being an unwed mother would be even worse." Alix was not so much angry as agitated. Part of her felt that she ought to be more like Lotte. She was 28 years old and with every day she got older and less "eligible." Her mother had almost despaired, blaming Alix's education. She told Alix she was "too outspoken," adding that men didn't like "clever" women. Alix had started to believe her -- until she met Philip.  Philip was everything she had ever dreamed of in a husband -- except that he was a reactionary Junker. But if he wasn't seriously interested in her, she supposed she ought to at least enjoy an affair with him. The problem was that she simply couldn't imagine sleeping with a man just for the "fun" of it, without any prospects of permanency.

Lotte was making calming gestures. "Relax, Alix. I'm not suggesting you sleep with him. But, you see, men don't like being rejected any more than we do. Maybe he's afraid you'll you'll reject him, if he goes too far too fast?"

"Lotte! He's a rich baron with an Iron Cross. What has he got to be afraid of?"

"You."

"Me? I'm an old maid --"

"Nonsense! Besides, there must be some reason he isn't married at his age. Maybe he was rejected by the woman of his dreams and hasn't recovered?  Or maybe he was just too busy getting his rank and those General Staff stripes and the medals to have time for women? Maybe he's completely inexerienced?"

"I can't imagine that," Alexandra asserted, thinking that Philip was simply too good-looking and charming not to have had lots of experience with women. She combed her hair out of her face wtih her hand. "You don't really think that's possible, do you?" she tensely asked her experienced friend.

Lotte shrugged. "I admit it's  hard to imagine -- if he's even half as charming as you make him sound. Maybe he's just too conservative. Don't Catholic aristocrats usually marry modest maidens straight out of convent schools?  -- preferably someone they're related to."

"Yes, and that's what I'm afraid of," Alexandra admitted candidly. "I'm afraid that he sees me as a pleasant way to fill his free time until he finds an immature maiden wth the right bloodlines."

"And that's not enough for you?" Lotte pressed her. "I know girls who'd sell their souls for just one evening at Kempinski's on the arm of a young, decorated baron. But being taken out to expensive restaurants and concerts and films all without any obligations isn't enough for you?" The question wasn't unkind, just very penetrating.

Alexandra paused, her hand still in her hair. Their eyes met. Alexandra shook her head. "No, Lotte. It's ironic, but this reactionary Junker is everything I though an open-minded, socialist intellectual would be -- and wasn't. He's the first man in my whole life who has ever really taken me seriously. He's so much better than Martin was -- and he would still be, without his rank, his title or his wealth. I'm not saying I'm in love with him," she hastened to stress to Lotte (who smiled knowingly). "It's just that there's nothing I'd like more in the world right now than to get to know him better. I want to know about his personal opinions, not just his public ones. I want to know more about what he feels, not just what he thinks."

Lotte leaned forward and put her hand on Alexandra's wrist. "Then don't let him slip away, Alix. Take a chance."

Buy a copy of Hitler's Demons now.

Hitler's Demons -- An Introduction to Alexandra

The following is an excerpt from Chapter 12 of Hitler's Demons:

Albrecht v. Rantzow was a tall, distinguished-looking man with greying side-burns and a cultivated English appearance. Colleagues jokingly claimed that he could easily be mistaken for Chamberlain himself -- something that he only pretended to dislike.  He kissed his wife, gave his stepdaughter his cheek, and then asked the ladies if they wished to join him in an aperitif. Alix and her mother asked for sherry, while he poured himself a cognac.

"Did you have a nice day, dear?" his wife asked.

Buy a copy of Hitler's Demons now!

"As good as can be expected," he answered, with a suddenly sour twist to his lips, turning at the waist to give a reproving look to Alix. She surmised he had learned about the impending invasion of the Soviet Union and no doubt blamed "the Generals" (and so Alix) for it. He turned politely back to his wife, "And you, Louisa?"

"I'm afraid Grete brought home some very disappointing grades," Frau von Rantzow broke the news to him gently.

Albrecht v. Rantzow's face clouded over at once. "What's the matter with the girl? There's nothing wrong with her intelligence. Why doesn't she apply herself more? She's just plain lazy!"

Alix did not consider this a fair judgment of Grete and would have liked to speak up on her behalf, but she knew her "interference" would not be appreciated. She had been nearly twelve when her mother remarried in 1925. To this day politeness and distance, rather than warmth and sympathy dominated their relationship. In any case, Alix's mother was quick to defend her younger daughter. "Now, Albrecht! That's not fair. She's just having a hard time adjusting after the five years in Paris."

"We've been back two years now. Plenty of time for her to settle in," Herr v. Rantzow insisted sternly.

"Naja, and would  you really like it if she had adapted as well as Rudi?" his wife asked softly, but with a raised eyebrow.

Albrecht v. Rantzow was instantly silenced. There was nothing he wanted less than to have another Nazi in the house. After a moment of awkward silence, he asked, "Just where is Rudi?"

"Tonight's his soccer night."

Herr v. Rantzow looked at his watch. "It's already 7 o'clock. He should be home by now. He knows we eat punctually."

"It's some sort of special match. Against another Jungvolk troop, I think. He did warn me he might be late."

"Warn you? Since when do little boys warn their mothers? This is absolutely appalling. I won't tolerate it!" After the bad news about Grete, this was too much, and Herr v. Rantzow lost his temper. "It is bad enough that he's gone twice a week at the damn Jungvolk meetings. I will not tolerate him missing dinner a third night in the week. From now on, he'll be home on time on Fridays, or he will not be allowed to play football at all!"

"But, Albrecht -- " Frau v. Rantzow fell silent as Helga appeared in the doorway.

"Dinner is ready, Frau v. Rantzow."

"Thank you, Helga. You may go ahead and start serving. We'll be right out."

Alix went quickly to the downstairs toilet to wash her hands before joining the others on the terrace. As she joined them, she found Grete already energetically defending herself. "But, Papa, you were the one who said the Jews didn't cause the inflation. Don't you remember? I asked you how it was the Jews could make the inflation without hurting themselves since they used the same money as we do, and you siad it was all rubbish about them causing the inflation!"

Herr v. Rantzow looked somewhat embarrassed, while his wife wore the same I-told-you-so look she had used on Alix earlier.

"Grete," her father said sternly, "you are old enough to know that you don't repeat everything you hear at home in school. From now on, in school you repeat exactly what your teachers tell you and forget anything you've heard from your older sister or myself."

"But, Papa, if it isn't true--"

"Don't whine at me like that!"

Grete didn't risk any more defiance, but she clearly felt she was being unfairly handled. She pushed her hands between her knees and sat with hunched shoulders, pouting at her plate.

Alix, who had taken her place at the table, remarked in what she hoped was a casual tone as she removed her napkin from the silver ring, "Don't you think it's asking a lot of a child to expect her on the one hand to be honest and on the other to give answers she knows are false to her teachers?"

"Alix!" Her mother warned, anxious to avoid any confrontation between her eldest daughter and her second husband.

Herr v. Rantzow took the remark surprisingly calmly. "The girl has to learn how to get along in the real world. I'm afraid that the sooner she learns that survival requires a certain amount of hypocrisy, the better. Hypocrisy and apparent conformity with public opinion have become necessary nowadays."

Alix felt her temper rise. Although she didn't want to fight with her stepfather, she just couldn't let this remark stand unchallenged. "Adapt instead of resist, you mean?" she asked acidly.

Her stepfather leveled his steel-grey eyes at her and said firmly: "That is exactly what I mean. There is absolutely nothing to be gained by dramatic gestures of defiance. Least of all from a child. I realize, of course, that at your age, your actions are governed by idealism and emotion, but I can assure you, you will outgrow both. In the meantime, I expect you to scrupulously avoid misleading your impressionable younger sister. Now that is the end of the matter."

"May I ask a question?" Alexandra asked, in a tone that clearly reflected her resentment at being talked down to in this fashion.

Frau v. Rantzow sighed; Herr v. Rantzow waited with raised eyebrows.

"Agreeing with you that it is wrong to incite school-age children to futile gestures of defiance, I would nevertheless be curious to know at what point -- if any -- you consider the refusal to adapt an advisable course for an adult?"

"At that point where one can effect meaningful change and not merely endanger or disadvantage oneself and one's family."

"One more question, if I may?"

Herr v. Rantzow nodded.

"Was it then your conviction that you could not oppose the Regime in any worthwhile manner -- not even at the Embassy in Paris -- that induced you to become a member of the Nazi Civil Servant's Association?"

"Precisely -- and the fact that if I had not joined, my career in the Foreign Ministry would have been terminated. I do, after all, have a family to support.  Your preference for heroics is a mark of your immaturity and irresponsibility. The head of a family cannot afford either. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly," Alexandra assured him, but he remained acutely aware of her disapproval.