Redemption for Gertrude (eBook)

February 1920

Gertrude, perched at her desk facing Eckart’s office, unraveled his scrawled observations from last night’s session at the beer hall. She arranged them in order according to their legibility. Eckhart guzzled a lot of alcohol during the meetings, making each page more problematic to read as he became more inebriated. Gertrude took her time scanning his reports, looking for a nugget she could use in the future. Her notes from his opinions of the men in his circle were invaluable as she grasped who had no backbone, who revealed too much, and who might turn out valuable in the future.

She applied herself to this job, learning everything she could about politics. With her photographic memory, she absorbed Eckart’s teachings. He was prosperous and had contacts. His vulnerability was his appetite for liquor, and she relied on that to get close to him. And, oh, how simple it was! Getting a position as a waitress in the beer hall where he was a regular, she made sure he always had a frothy brew in front of him. She applauded him for his published plays, letting him know how much she respected him, commenting about the Jewish people, and making disparaging statements about the Jews seeking to take over Germany. Once she started asking questions about his revelation of the messiah that would rejuvenate her country, he couldn’t stop talking about his plans.

“Our Messiah! Yes, my dear!” he replied as he guzzled down the rest of the beer in his mug. “Our ruler doesn’t have to be brilliant, just a solid orator. If he is a bachelor, all the better, as he can captivate the women.” He winked at Gertrude. Soon, he arranged for her to work in his office, and after eliminating his executive secretary, she was now working alongside him, becoming an indispensable ally. Herr Friesen was right about her assets; despite her young age, she was adept at learning new things, and her photographic memory served her well.

The Thule Society took up much of Eckart’s time. Prominent justices, law enforcement chiefs, and educators likewise enlisted, anticipating the opportunity to restore Germany to its merited prominence. Eckart was a comrade of Anton Drexler, the organizer of the anti-Semitic German Workers Party. Last year, he had a group of six members attempting to make their views heard in the political realm.

“Drexler would explain to me that he had yearned for a leader with sufficient perseverance in him to get the movement going, someone who was a genius with enough confidence that he could influence the crowds to take notice,” Eckart told her.

“I remember the night a young agitator came into our hall, leaning against the back wall. I watched as his eyes lit up while he listened to the speakers, his arms moving up and down at his sides. He could not stay silent for one moment longer. Onto a table he jumped, his voice rising to a furious pitch, proclaiming the need for all workers to unite. What a spectacle it was! This was the man who would lead our party! I was certain of it.”

He snickered at Hitler’s initial perception of Drexler’s group of men. “Oh, Gertrude, he considered it to be a dreadful group, comprising weakened men! Still, he understood how they could make it function with revisions. He became the party’s 55th member on September 12 last year. So, my dear, this fellow, this veteran, now spoke at a subsequent meeting. It filled me with anticipation, waiting to hear his hypnotic voice!” He took another gulp of beer. “Ah, and I was not disappointed. The speech was electrifying! This man is still rough around the edges—uncouth—but I am polishing him, Gertrude. I am molding Herr Hitler into a dazzling orator!” Eckart slapped himself on the knee. He picked up the mug Gertrude had set in front of him.

Eckart had been praying for a ruler to emerge—a leader who could make something of the young organization, to arouse the men. He understood it would have to be someone remarkable, an inspiration—the same notion that seized Drexler. Once he heard Hitler speak, Eckart realized he could be that man. “Yes, yes!” he announced. “Hitler is my man.”

Eckart waved her into his room. “Tonight, you will join me. I will require you to be a witness to the display of our new leader.” Leaning back in his chair, he lit his cigar. “Hitler is our man to get our directives to the crowds, even though his attire is dreadful, and his etiquette is, shall I say, repelling. So, I am making him presentable.”

Gertrude spent more time than usual deciding what to wear that evening. This man, Herr Hitler, must be a dazzling creature. She groaned as she thumbed through her scanty wardrobe, trying to find something that would be pleasing to this man. Deciding on her green dress, which brought out the color of her eyes, she donned a bright scarf to accessorize it. How she wished she could wear fancy jewels, but that was out of the question. Sighing, she donned her overcoat and waited for Eckhart to pick her up.

On the way to the hotel suite where Hitler was staying, Gertrude speculated about Eckart and Hitler. Eckart had written a poem in 1918 about the Great One, the one who would transform Germany into its former glory. He would have piercing eyes, and the sound of his voice would captivate the population. Eckart bolstered the doctrine of the Thule Society, which stipulated that in Atlantis, the Aryans were the civilizing force. Weakened now by interbreeding with the inferior and corrupt races who were everywhere in the city and who were in control, pandemonium was prevalent.

“Our opponents, Gertrude, are the Bolsheviks, Communists, and most of all, the Jews,” he revealed to her in the automobile. “The Jews are resolved to eradicate our nation from within.”

Yes, Herr Eckart, she thought as she stared out the window. How fully I know. Eckart did not expect any response from her. He restated his tirades about the Jews being culpable for his failure as a playwright. With her eyes closed, she relaxed, leaning back into the auto.

The data she gained on this man called Adolf Hitler flitted through her mind. Hitler, blinded during the war, recovered and was of benefit in alternative capacities after the war ended. Karl Mayr, head of propaganda, appointed him to ward off the expanding Bolshevik ideology. They had to break the Jews, the rulers of the Bolsheviks. Anti-Semitism was on the rise, predominately in the officer’s corps, universities, and the middle classes. Hitler made speeches, inciting more hatred toward the Jews. The turning point for him came on October 16 last year, when he was to spy on a small meeting that took place in a beer hall, but he realized that the views of the members reflected his own. She smiled at Eckart’s recollections of the man jumping onto a table to make himself heard.

In the hotel room, she waited for Hitler to emerge from the bedroom, attired in clothes Eckart had his tailor make for him. It was quite a task, as Hitler seemed fond of his wretched image: his white shirt was of cheap stock, along with his brown suit, the only one he had, with a leather vest and a beige trench coat, which completed his look. It was pathetic. As the door opened, her eyes enlarged in consternation to discover that he was not an imposing man. Rather, he was short and not appealing at all. Her eyes focused on his cropped toothbrush mustache until his blue eyes arrested her, eyes that seemed to pierce right into her being. He stood in front of his two guests, nodding his head as he acknowledged their presence. Deflated, Gertrude sank back onto the couch. Then his head turned in her direction, a half-smile now on his face, his eyes taking in her body, which now filled with a warm sensation.

Eckart, beaming, oblivious to the eye contact of the other two in the room, declared, “Yes, my son. You make a splendid character. Now, let’s not waste time. Here are my notes for tonight’s speech. We will attend a gathering at Frau Mason’s. If all goes well, young man, she will support our cause.” He paused and looked around the modest room. “Place yourself over here.” He pointed to the middle of the room as he and Gertrude sat on the couch facing him.

Hitler leafed through the notes in his hand. Next, he peered at his audience for a whole two minutes before he talked at first in a subdued voice, forcing Gertrude to lean forward to make out what he was saying. His arms started circulating in the air, with one hand forming a fist as his speech resounded in the room.

Still leaning forward, not because she was incapable of hearing him but because she was mesmerized, she forgot Eckhart expected her to be taking notes. Hitler’s voice echoing throughout the room was captivating. His eyes were transfixed as if he was in a trance, and his forehead was drenched in sweat. When he wound up his speech, Eckart bolted and embraced him. “You will dominate the crowds!” He squinted at his timepiece. “Now we must meet with Hess and Rohm to discuss our strategies.”

The gathering at Frau Mason’s was a small one; the hostess, a buxom woman adorned in heavy jewelry that rested on her substantial bosom, gushed over Hitler, taking him by the arm to introduce him to her guests. Her laugh was loud, forced, and grating to the ears. Gertrude sipped her water, always having to remain sober, and observed Hitler’s reactions. In less than ten minutes, he commanded the room, once again taking on the role of an orator, his fists punching the air as he...