62
PRESIDENT PAUL VON HINDENBURG sat in his office, fighting back a nasty cough and wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. “You must forgive me, Hermann. The ailments of an old man.”
“Not at all, Mr. President.” Hermann Goring’s reputation as a war hero, and his outsized personality, had allowed him to transcend party politics.
He’d always had a strong relationship in particular with von Hindenburg, a war hero himself of not only the Great War but the Austro-Prussian and Franco-Prussian wars.
For much that reason, Goring wore his gray military uniform today.
“Hermann, I’m eighty-five years old. I was never much for bullshit, and I sure as hell won’t start now.
” Dressed in his dark horsehair three-piece suit, his thick mustache curling on each end, with a strong but weathered face, the president leaned forward on his desk.
“I respect you. Hell, I even like you. But I don’t like that son of a bitch you call your leader. ”
Goring opened his hands. “He is… an acquired taste, Mr. President. I understand that. But he is more bark than bite. He is a skilled politician who can appeal to his base, but as a leader, he would be far more pragmatic than dogmatic.”
The president cleared his throat, akin to the starting of a stubborn engine. “Not so pragmatic that the National Socialists will agree to a coalition government. You’ve boxed in von Schleicher the same way you did von Papen.”
Goring acknowledged as much. “And there are only so many times you can replace a chancellor and ignore the man who ran second to you for president.”
“Oh, you think that’s my only option? It’s not, Hermann.
” Von Hindenburg unleashed another coughing spasm, reaching for a glass of water.
After a moment, he continued. “Do you know what von Schleicher wants me to do? He wants me to disband the Reichstag and rule as a dictator. I am seriously considering that.”
Goring had heard the rumors. He knew a bluff when he heard one.
“Mr. President, you have been the most fervent supporter of democracy I’ve known.
And here you are presented with a political party that has garnered the most seats in parliament, and whose leader received the second-most votes for president.
A lover of democracy would say that you should appoint this man Reichskanzler. ”
“If that man weren’t a hateful fascist, yes. This business about stripping Jews of citizenship and removing them from society? Outlawing their marriages to German citizens? Classifying them by the number of Jewish grandparents?”
Goring was annoyed that the news in Der Gerade Weg had reached the president. Hitler had directed the SA to forcefully confiscate as many copies of the special edition as possible, and the Nazis had filed a lawsuit to shut the paper down.
Pro-Nazi newspapers printed editorials—penned by Joseph Goebbels—accusing the “radical Communists” of propagating these “craven lies” and rhetorically asking, “Will the Communists stop at nothing to deprive the National Socialists of their rightful place at the table?”
“Lies, Mr. President,” Goring said now. “All lies from a rag of a newspaper in Munich looking to make a name for itself. And surely the KPD is behind this,” he added, referring to the Kommunistische Partei Deutschlands, or the Communist Party of Germany.
“Why, the Communists will stop at nothing to slow our progress in the Reichstag. Mr. President, the Führer has personally assured me that he has no such plans.”
The president took another drink of water. He was not one to easily cave, but he knew that he was boxed in. Goring was just trying to make the pill go down more easily.
“You trust von Papen,” Goring said to the president. “He will be vice-chancellor. He will curb any excesses, though I doubt it will be necessary. And you trust me, Mr. President.”
The president looked over Goring. “I trust you, yes.”
“Then please trust me now,” he said. “You will not be sorry.”