Hitler's Heroine: Hanna Reitsch (16 page)

Hanna had lost most of her height; she now needed to make a decision. Would she abandon the plane to its fate or attempt to land it? It went against her pride and professionalism to abandon now, when there was a slight chance of landing the plane. Of course there were great risks too, there was no knowing if the undercarriage would be ripped off as she came in to land, nor could she know if it was still completely fastened to the fuselage. It might be hanging off. In any case the 163 was designed to land on its belly, not on wheels. Hanna refused to bail out. She approached the airfield high, planning on side-slipping in the last 100 yards to land on the grass beside the runway, perhaps lessening the impact of the landing. In normal circumstances the manoeuvre might have worked, but the turbulence caused by the undercarriage was creating all kinds of drag and difficulties. As she attempted to side-slip, the plane stalled. In a split second the emergency landing turned into a crash. The ground raced up before Hanna’s eyes. There was no time to think, just to hunch down and brace for the shock as the plane plunged nose-first into solid earth. There was the crunch and whine of metal being torn and bent. The Me 163 flipped over, perhaps once, maybe twice, Hanna never knew. When the motion stopped and the plane creaked and groaned into a stationary position, Hanna cautiously opened her eyes and realised she was sitting upright. The plane had righted itself and was now sitting on its belly.

Hanna was shaken, but her first thought was to open the cockpit canopy. Fresh air rushed into the plane, rousing her slightly. Next she examined her arms and legs with a great deal of trepidation. Through the shock she was numb to pain, so it was impossible to know at first if anything was missing. A miracle seemed to have occurred. Hanna had all her limbs, fingers and toes, there were no gaping wounds or broken bones. She relaxed a little, she had survived her first major crash.

It was then she noticed the thin trickle of blood running down her neck. With cautious fingers she followed the stream; there was still no pain as she came to her nose – or, at least, where her nose had been. There was nothing now but an empty hole, a sharp cleft in her face. When she breathed, bubbles of air and blood formed along its edge. It seemed she had not survived intact. Worried, she moved her head to the side and almost blacked out. Now she was really anxious; had her spine been damaged too? Was it a head injury? Hanna tried to calm herself by reaching out for a notepad and pencil in the cockpit, all the time keeping her head motionless, and writing down with a quick sketch exactly what had happened to her. Perhaps it would spare someone else. At least it would prove the accident was not her fault and that she had not been responsible for the wreck of the plane. Even now Hanna was worried about her reputation in the eyes of her fellow test pilots. Lastly, Hanna pulled out a clean white handkerchief and tied it around her face like the cowboys did in movies, masking her ruined nose and sparing the rescue party the sight of her mutilated face. It was her last act before the darkness of unconsciousness took over.

As news reached Wolfgang Späte of Hanna’s last actions before she was taken to hospital he was overcome with a new sense of respect for the tiny pilot. ‘What a woman!’ he remarked, seeing the notes she had made before passing out. Hanna awoke in the Hospital of the Sisters of Mercy in Regensburg. She had been x-rayed and the results showed the worst possible results; her skull was fractured in four places in the basal area and two places in the facial area, resulting in compression of the brain, displacement of the upper jaw bones and separation of the bones of the nose. She had also broken several vertebrae. The loss of her nose now seemed the least of her worries, though, as in many cases of trauma, it was this minor detail that occupied her thoughts. ‘Will I have to live my life without a nose?’ she wondered morosely. It was easier to worry about that than to dwell on the serious brain and skull injuries she was suffering.

Fortunately, Hanna was in the hands of a first-class surgeon and he managed to piece her back together in the operating theatre. When Hanna at last regained full consciousness her head was wrapped up like a mummy, only her lips and bruised eyes peeking out. Her mother was standing before her with an adoptive aunt. Reaching out for Emy Reitsch, Hanna felt a mixture of relief and homesickness. Emy kept a straight face as she comforted her daughter. Life had thrown a number of ordeals at her in the last few months and the sight of Hanna suffering so was hard to bear. The doctors were cagey about her likely chances of survival. Hanna was not afraid to die, but if she was likely to do so, she at least wanted to know so she might prepare herself. No one in the hospital would give her answers, so in the end she asked her mother to send for Edelgard von Berg. Von Berg was a female surgeon and a close friend from Hanna’s days as a medical student. She worked at the Robert Koch Hospital in Berlin and Hanna believed that if anyone would be honest with her it was Edelgard. Emy dutifully summoned Edelgard, who promised to come at once and even rang from Leipzig to promise she would soon be there.

Then nothing. Hour after hour there was no sign of Edelgard. Hanna became distressed: had her friend changed her mind? Was she delayed somehow? Ill herself? Emy, much to the disapproval of the doctors, told her the truth: Edelgard was dead. Perhaps she had driven too fast to reach her seriously injured friend; perhaps her car was not in the best repair after three years of war. In any case, she had skidded on wet leaves and crashed. Edelgard was dead and Hanna fainted from the shock.

Back at the airfield, Wolfgang Späte had overcome his initial admiration for Hanna. Day after day his team analysed the crash and the notes Hanna had left behind, trying to work out what went wrong. There was an unpleasant atmosphere in the workshops and offices; someone, or at least something, had to be blamed for the terrible crash that looked likely to cost Germany its only female test pilot. As so many months before, when Udet had watched Hanna appear to crash after the failed balloon cable-cutting incident, no one wanted to have to tell the Führer his Hanna was gravely injured. There was even a suggestion that Späte should be deemed responsible for the accident. ‘How could anyone suggest such a thing!’ he ranted angrily. ‘At the time of the ill-fated forced landing I was after all 800km away in Peenemünde.’ He believed the crash had been caused by a series of mishaps, all minor on their own but combining to make a deadly situation. Besides, Späte was convinced that Hanna should have been able to land the plane without crashing. He threw everything back at her, forgetting his earlier admiration: ‘Through the impact of the landing Flugkapt. Hanna Reitsch hit her head on the visor. This was made possible because she used a thick cushion behind her back and therefore sat forward and had probably not strapped herself in very firmly.’ He did not mention that Hanna needed the cushion because the seat, designed for men, swallowed her up if she did not have support, nor that she might have trouble reaching the controls if she was forced to sit too far back. It was incredibly ironic that she was so maligned, considering Dittmar had landed himself in hospital for a year after stalling his Me 163 and received nothing but sympathy. Fortunately, cocooned in her sickbed, Hanna was mostly unaware of the criticisms being levelled at her behind the scenes.

Others were less inclined to blame Hanna, instead the accident and her triumphant survival (though it was still uncertain whether she would live) were treated as yet another example of German heroism. Göring, along with other Luftwaffe leaders, decided that Hanna should be awarded the Iron Cross, First Class. Hearing the news, Emy Reitsch was concerned. She felt no good would come from the award and was worried about the impression it might make on Hanna. Emy’s exact concerns are unclear; did she simply think it would increase her daughter’s pride? Or was she worried it might tie her even more inextricably to the Nazi Party? She should perhaps have been more concerned about a small parcel of chocolate and fruit juice Hanna received while recuperating, which bore a message of well wishes and speedy recovery from Himmler. ‘Himmler reminded me of Robespierre – a half-educated fanatic who actually believed that the extermination of the Jews was the way of truth. I’m sure he died without scruples about his crimes,’ commented Wernher von Braun.

Himmler was also a controversial name within the Reitsch family. He was prominently atheistic, to the point of persecuting the traditional Church. As a Protestant former Catholic, Emy had always disliked Himmler from what little she knew of his political views. The present from him was therefore unwelcome and Hanna and Emy uncomfortably ignored it. Further presents arrived from Himmler, each with a short, friendly note to Hanna. Such was the simplicity and kindness of the missives that Emy began to doubt herself. Hanna, who liked to see the good in everyone, preferred to think that they had been led astray by the official news they had heard of this man. Forgetting that all news was carefully controlled and manipulated to say exactly what the party desired, Emy and Hanna convinced themselves Himmler had been misrepresented and must be a good deal kinder than they had thought. ‘When you are well you must visit him and thank him for his kindness,’ Emy told her daughter, as if she was just discussing a kind neighbour.

Hanna’s recovery would be a long one, however, and the matter of visiting Himmler would have to wait. Hanna was offered a place in a sanatorium to recuperate, but she had other plans. Family friends owned a small cottage halfway up a mountain surrounded by a park-like garden and picturesque views. Hanna asked if she could go there. Perhaps an odd place for an invalid to go, but Hanna was desperate for solitude and time to think. A depression had risen over her, drawing her down into melancholy and a desire to shut out the world. Would she ever fly again? She asked the question over and over. As much as she hid her condition from her family, she knew the odds were not good. Hanna still suffered from giddiness and sickness when travelling, even on short journeys. Her head ached constantly and her balance was impaired – hardly auspicious for a return to flying.

Hanna went to the cottage and there began a savage programme of exercise and mental exertion to retrain her body and mind. She walked every day, at first growing despondent that she could only manage short distances before feeling exhausted, but improving with time. Even more important was her desire to restore her equilibrium; Hanna attempted this by feats of daring that would have had her doctors screaming at her.

The cottage had a steep-gabled roof, with a chimney on one side. Hanna climbed up and carefully placed herself on the ridge, sitting astride it and holding tight to the chimney. She kept her eyes shut as she did so in case she glimpsed the ground and was overcome by vertigo. From this vantage point Hanna opened her eyes and focused slowly on each tile on the roof, from the apex down to the gutter, first one side and then the other. The first time she attempted this feat she took herself to the brink of complete exhaustion. But the next day it was a little easier, and the next day after that, and so on until after endless practice of this exercise Hanna could stare all about her without dizziness, could let go of the chimney and balance perfectly, could even scoot herself to the middle of the roof ridge and look out at the dazzling countryside.

Sometimes, for a bit of variety, Hanna would climb a pine tree instead of the roof, creeping from one branch to another to see how high she could go. Once again, her first efforts were pitiful and Hanna despaired, but each day she was a little stronger and the top of the tree came a little closer. Her will to succeed had overcome Hanna’s physical difficulties. In collusion with a friend she went gliding at Breslau-Schöngarten, at first just testing her basic flying skills before attempting powered flight. Then she was in the air performing dives from greater and greater heights to see if her brain could cope with the pressure and indulging in all manner of aerobatics. When she finally returned to her doctor he remarked on her fitness and gave her a clean bill of health. Hanna was fit to fly again. But just as important, she had a new nose, one so skilfully created that it was impossible to know there had been any damage. Hanna had survived the worst and was looking forward to flying again.

8

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IVING
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ISILLUSIONMENT

Himmler’s headquarters in East Prussia were neatly arranged as Hanna paid her long-postponed visit in July 1943. It was early evening and Hanna was worried about the meeting, not least because she had several burning questions to put to Himmler. He greeted her warmly, invited her to dinner and introduced her to his officers. Over their meal Hanna was intrigued to see the easy camaraderie between Himmler and his subordinates. After dinner, Himmler showed her to his study. Hanna’s unease returned. Never one to soften her words just because she was facing one of the most dangerous men in Germany, she began her explanation for her visit with an apology. ‘This is rather difficult for me, Herr Himmler. I have come to thank you for your kind gifts during my convalescence, but I confess your name has only ever been mentioned in my family with trepidation.’ Himmler observed her calmly. ‘Do you always form your judgements so hastily, Frau Hanna?’ he asked as he directed them to a pair of armchairs. ‘What exactly do you find in my name to alarm you?’ ‘I hardly know where to start,’ Hanna said. ‘For one thing, how can you bring yourself to try and root out of men’s hearts their most sacred beliefs when you have nothing remotely comparable in worth to replace them?’ Himmler was amused, but his response was quick. He delivered a speech on the implausibility of the Bible and thus of Christianity, illustrating his argument with examples from the Bible and others Hanna had not heard of. Hanna could not hope to match this rant, so simply said, ‘We are concerned with a religious belief. I cannot compel you to share this belief, but in your position you should respect and not interfere with the religious feelings of others.’