After Hitler: The Last Ten Days of World War II in Europe (16 page)

And yet, in the last period of Hitler’s rule, Admiral Dönitz had assumed a more and more important role within his leader’s entourage. He was in regular contact with the Führer – inspired by his presence and slavishly loyal to his wishes. Fellow naval commander Admiral Friedrich Ruge was struck by how often Dönitz sought out his master – noting that afterwards, however desperate the war situation, he was filled with new hope:

Hitler possessed a kind of mesmerism that acted on different people in different ways. Susceptibility to this influence seemed to be dependent on a kind of resonance, an ability which some leaders possess and are able to manipulate. Its effect was particularly striking on Dönitz, to a slightly lesser extent with Kesselring. The situation might be darker than ever, and his spirits at a low ebb when he went into Hitler’s headquarters, but he returned radiating an optimism not at all warranted by the general conditions. A similar case was Vice Admiral Voss, Dönitz’s representative in Hitler’s headquarters, who was completely under this spell as late as April 1945.

Dönitz certainly seemed to be under Hitler’s spell. After a meeting with him in August 1943 he sang his praises in the most fulsome fashion:

‘The immense power the Führer radiated, his unswerving confidence, his far-sighted evaluation of the situation … has made it very clear that in comparison to him, we are all very wretched pip-squeaks … Anyone who believes he could do better than the Führer is plain stupid.’

This was a remarkably subservient comment for a leading military figure to make. His obedience never wavered – in fact, as Germany’s situation grew ever more perilous, Dönitz’s appreciation of his master waxed ever more lyrical, until it seemed to lose contact with all reality. In a radio speech of 20 February 1945, at a time when the Third Reich was suffering catastrophic losses to Allied bombing and the Red Army had invaded East Prussia, inflicting untold hardship on the civilian population there, Dönitz announced to Germany’s youth:

‘You have been very fortunate as to be placed by destiny in the greatest era of our people … You must be attached body and soul and with all the forces of your heart and character to the Führer. You must regard yourselves as his children, whom nothing on earth could make waver in their unconditional loyalty. This is the greatest and finest thing in a man’s life – unconditional and loyal devotion to the great man who is his leader.’

In pursuit of his overarching loyalty, Dönitz had become a steadfast advocate of all of Hitler’s principles – military and political – strongly believing in the Führer’s ‘fortress policy’, of holding out to the very end, whatever the cost, in a fanatical defence of the Nazi cause. He saw a kind of glorious martyrdom in this. In March 1945 he urged Germans to follow the example of the Japanese at Iwo Jima, where American troops killed over 14,000 of the island’s defenders, but captured only 180 of them. There was certain nobility, Dönitz felt, in dying on behalf of Hitler.

And the admiral warmed to this dark theme, warning in a decree of 11 April that only slavery awaited Germans found in the Soviet zone of occupation, and those ‘intellectual weaklings’ who considered surrender would be the first to perish under such conditions. Astonishingly, in such a disastrous military situation, Dönitz stressed time and time again that Germany’s only hope lay in continuing to fight.

In his public speeches, Dönitz was going far beyond his military mandate – and he was doing so quite deliberately. He once revealed: ‘I am a strong supporter of ideological indoctrination … It is nonsense to say that soldiers or officers must be non-political.’ Such exhortations would have met with Hitler’s heartfelt approval.

Dönitz last met with Hitler on his birthday, on 20 April 1945, when the Führer granted him the honour of a personal audience. Two days later, on 22 April, Dönitz left Berlin and travelled to Plön in northern Germany. The Führer had realised that the Grand Alliance – shortly to join forces on the River Elbe at Torgau – was about to carve the Third Reich in two. In a response to this threat, Hitler decided that Field Marshal Kesselring would command German troops in the south and Admiral Dönitz would lead a ‘northern’ military region consisting of north-west Germany, Denmark and Norway. At this late stage of the war, Dönitz was rising rapidly in the Führer’s favour.

In his new command, Dönitz maintained a rigid adherence to Hitler’s by now utterly pointless war strategy. At a meeting with Nazi Party representatives in the area on 25 April the issue arose of ending the war to save lives. Dönitz would have none of it. He made it clear that this was a matter for Hitler alone to decide – and that no one had the right to challenge him over this. ‘The Führer’s actions,’ he declared emphatically, ‘are solely inspired by his concern for the German people. And since capitulation must mean the destruction of the German people’s ideology and faith, it is only right that we fight on.’

Dönitz backed up his words with actions. On 27 April the military situation in Berlin was hopeless. He nevertheless ordered that several hundred naval cadets be flown into the city to help defend the capital – to be sacrificed on the pyre of Dönitz’s devotion to the Nazi cause. The gesture impressed Hitler – although the naval cadets had no training in street fighting and suffered heavy casualties for little result.

Soviet lieutenant Vasily Ustyugov was surprised by the introduction of such troops late in the battle. He remembered encountering some of the cadets in the fighting near the Reich Chancellery: ‘We learnt that a German marine battalion – young naval trainees – had been brought in to defend the centre of Berlin,’ he said. ‘We found this inexplicable, for they were completely inexperienced soldiers – little more than kids – and most of them died very quickly.’

Ustyugov remembered one instance.

I was in the city centre – and it was a night-time operation. There was an arch-way to my right leading down to a basement. Some light came up from it and I went to take shelter there to look at my map. Suddenly, a couple of Germans – who must have heard me moving about – ran up the stairs and straight into me. I opened fire – a pure reflex action – and hit them both. Their naval berets flew up into the air and one fell back down the stairs – I remember he had blond hair – and the other crumpled in front of me.

Street fighting is all about instinct – and they clearly had not acquired any of it. As I stepped into the arch-way my silhouette was framed by the light, making me a clear target. Experienced soldiers would have shot first. But instead they panicked, ran out to see what was happening and collided with me.

It was all a pointless sacrifice of young lives. And yet the Führer was delighted:

‘Grand Admiral Dönitz has sent navy soldiers for my personal protection,’ he remarked. ‘They are the bravest men he has. He wants to make a certain number available to me. This offer comes from Dönitz himself – he’ll bring them in at any cost … The moment could come when extreme steadfastness is everything …’

Dönitz readied more naval troops – but at this stage of the battle for Berlin it was no longer possible to fly them in.

Unswerving dedication to the cause chimed well with the sentiments Hitler expressed in his will: ‘I request that commanders of the army, navy and air force strengthen our soldiers’ will to resist and imbue them with the National Socialist spirit to the utmost,’ he enjoined. Dönitz was showing himself a worthy disciple. And he did not remain passive in his master’s presence. He understood what Hitler wanted to hear and learnt to anticipate it.

Dönitz knew that the Führer was fascinated by new technology. To sustain morale as the stream of military defeats swept ever closer to Berlin, Hitler came to believe more and more in ‘miracle weapons’, astonishing triumphs of technology that would turn the war in his favour.

Realising this, at the end of February 1945 Dönitz submitted to the Führer a massively over-optimistic assessment of the U-boat war. Dönitz looked to the future – and the possibilities offered by a new model of submarine that could remain completely submerged, without ever needing to resurface. The head of the navy claimed that Britain and America would have no means of detecting or combating this force, and that the imminent arrival of these ‘miracle weapons’ completely justified hopes of a major transformation of the war ‘in the nick of time’. Dönitz agreed that the goal in the last period of the war should be to hold out at all costs, to allow these weapons to become operational. Hitler was enthralled and encouraged by this report – which undoubtedly sustained his own fanaticism.

By such means Dönitz won his way into Hitler’s closest confidence. All his political views now mirrored those of his master. He had become a member of the National Socialist Party in 1944 and was firmly committed to its principles. A number of his speeches showed a strong anti-Semitism. When the Swedes closed their waters to German shipping, Dönitz claimed their action was a result of ‘fear and dependence on international Jewish capital’. In a speech of March 1944 he warned against ‘degenerate Jewish enslavement’, declaring:

‘What would have happened to our country today if our Führer had not united us under National Socialism? A divided government, infected with the spreading poison of Jewry and at its mercy because we lacked the shield of our present uncompromising ideology, we would have collapsed under the burden of this war long ago.’

In August 1944, Dönitz proclaimed his advocacy of this ‘uncompromising ideology’ to his commanders in blunt terms, admitting: ‘I would rather eat dirt than see my children grow up in the filthy, poisonous atmosphere of Jewry.’

Dönitz was also strongly anti-Bolshevik, emphasising time and time again the importance of holding on to every scrap of ground in the war against the Soviet Union. ‘I am an adherent of not giving up anything in the east unless we have absolutely no other choice,’ he declared resolutely. He had supported and encouraged Hitler in retaining a foothold in Latvia – the Courland Pocket – long after the war had reached Germany’s own borders. Courland’s defenders continued to be supplied by sea by the Kriegsmarine – an immense operation, personally supervised by Dönitz. As the Red Army was fighting its way into Berlin, more than 200,000 soldiers of the Wehrmacht were still holding out in this remote fastness, alongside a Latvian SS division. The point of such a stand was lost to all except its fanatical devotees.

In the last days in the bunker, Hitler became increasingly fond of Dönitz – and admiring of his loyalty. The Führer’s valet, Heinz Linge, recalled his master frequently exclaiming how Dönitz was the only one who had not deceived him. Hitler’s air force adjutant added that in the war’s final weeks the Führer displayed great confidence in Dönitz, but not in Göring or Himmler – emphasising that Dönitz now held a great authority, not just among military men but also within the Nazi Party itself. In Goebbels’ diaries several entries praised Dönitz for his ideological attitude and determination to continue the struggle. Revealingly, when Hitler drew up his will, he instructed Bormann and Goebbels to break out of Berlin and join Dönitz’s government – but he did not intend them to lead it.

There was nothing accidental about Hitler nominating Dönitz as his successor or forming an administration around him. Admiral Wilhelm Meisel – a man close to Dönitz – believed that at the end of the war the navy leader was engaged in a power struggle with Göring, provoked by Dönitz’s ‘unbridled ambition’ to become ‘the second man in the state’ after the Führer himself.

Although Hitler wanted Dönitz to be his successor, he appointed him as Reich President rather than Führer, clearly believing his own power and authority within the Reich – even in the last days in the bunker – were unique. Nevertheless, he saw Dönitz as the custodian of his legacy. And as Reich President, Dönitz did not break with Nazi policies and he made no attempt to ban or dissolve the party. Pictures of Hitler were prominently displayed on the walls of the Naval Academy where his administration took up residence – and diehard Nazis were included in his fledgling government.

The most unsavoury of these new recruits was SS leader Otto Ohlendorf. During the war in Russia Ohlendorf had commanded an extermination squad – Einsatzgruppe D – that had butchered thousands of Jews and Slavs in southern Russia and the Ukraine. Dönitz was either unconcerned or secretly approving of such fanaticism, and he appointed Ohlendorf his senior adviser on economic affairs. This appointment alone should have provoked an immediate Allied intervention, the forcible dissolution of this so-called government and the arrest of all its members. But such a response was delayed – with unfortunate consequences.

On 3 May Dönitz installed his government in the Naval Academy at Mürwik, in the suburbs of Flensburg. The red-brick complex had been built by Kaiser Wilhelm II in 1910. Its striking Gothic architecture imitated the castle of Marienburg, the headquarters of the Teutonic Knights (a medieval military order which had launched a series of bloody crusades against the Slav peoples of the East) and a site of enduring fascination to the Nazis. Known as the ‘red castle by the sea’, the Naval Academy was certainly imposing – rising from a small hill, overlooking the Flensburg Fjord. For a few weeks it would contain a shrine that held the unsteady flame of the dying Nazi movement.

Within it was a fastidious commemoration of Hitler’s memory. One of Dönitz’s first actions – on 4 May – was to approve the death sentence for a sailor who had made critical remarks about the Führer (on 9 May, after the war had ended, the Naval High Command checked to ensure this execution had been carried out). Three more sailors, who deserted on 5 May, were recaptured – and again, Dönitz decided to impose the death penalty. These men had sworn an oath of loyalty to Hitler and in Dönitz’s eyes that oath still held a moral force, even after the Führer’s death.

In forming his government, Dönitz gave the post of Minister of Industry and Production to Hitler’s devoted follower Albert Speer. He toyed with the idea of appointing Heinrich Himmler as Minister of the Interior, keeping the post open for several days. It was only on 6 May that Dönitz decided that such an appointment was too risky – and might provoke the Allies to dissolve his government in the midst of its surrender negotiations with General Eisenhower. So Wilhelm Stuckhart, Minister of Culture, was moved into the position instead, although Himmler still retained a behind-the-scenes influence. But the most important appointment would be Count Schwerin von Krosigk as Foreign Minister.