The time has come when it is no longer sensible to hold off on the remarkable story of Rudolf Hess, already alluded to in several previous entries, but only now coming to the fore. The story begins immediately after the victorious Bolshevik Revolution, and it cannot be properly understood without putting it in perspective, provided in this case by my entry Lenin And Rosa. Here is a short recap.
Having effectively destroyed the German Communist Party (whose leaders saw themselves as the rightful heirs of Karl Marx and refused to be subordinated to Lenin, seen by them as a Marxist impostor), Lenin’s agents were scouting Germany in search of a nice new little party which would be much easier to patronize. The name National Socialist German Workers’ Party sounded about right. The Soviets were attempting to cultivate and then take control of the Nazi Party in a number of ways. Besides financing it indirectly, they inserted their people into Nazi membership. In the early days, those were a handful of Soviet friends, who were not so much crazy about Bolshevism, as convinced that a friendship with Soviet Russia was the right course for Germany. One of such friends of Russia was Rudolf Hess.
Being a friend of Russia in those years was not a crime for any patriotic German. That appalling Great War, in which Germany had been fighting Russia, among others, ended with a humiliating defeat, but Russia had no hand in that humiliation. The main foreign culprits, in German eyes, were primarily the French, partly the British, and, to a lesser extent, the Americans. For those thinking Germans who remembered recent history and drew lessons from it, their present defeat had to be the direct result of their leaders ignoring the wise precept of Prince Otto von Bismarck, who, not that long ago, had warned his countrymen not to quarrel with Russia, but, rather, to be her friend, lest Germany would be drawn into fighting a losing war on two fronts. Considering that France was Germany’s historical enemy number one, Bismarck’s fear of a two-front war, in case of a rift with Russia, was well justified.
There was, however, a serious threat of Bismarck’s words not being heeded yet again, marking Germany for a second crushing defeat in a potential second two-front war. The doctrine of Lebensraum, and its corollary, Drang nach Osten, amounted to setting Germany and Russia on a collision course one more time, and such a bleak prospect had to be avoided at all costs. Needless to say, in this peculiar situation, Bismarck’s friends were indirectly Russia’s friends, and their friendship was a matter of life and death for Russia as well.
After World War I, Soviet Russia deliberately cultivated a warm friendship with the defeated Germans, and, as I already mentioned before, helped them reconstitute and train their armed forces on the Russian territory in violation of the 1919 Treaty of Versailles. Thus, being a direct friend of Russia was not only acceptable, but in fact a very commendable and even natural thing to be.
Rudolf Hess was not a paid Soviet agent, although his career greatly benefited from the Soviet support. He was not only allowed, but essentially unequivocally encouraged, by the terms of his Russian relationship, to remain a dedicated German patriot, who, like so many others like him, was pursuing the legitimate German pro-Russian agenda, endorsed by the father of the Second Reich himself. Did this make him a Soviet agent of influence? Perhaps. But a Soviet spy he never was, and his always one-sided contacts with Moscow (he was on the receiving end of invariably very brief and cryptic Soviet instructions), between 1919 and 1941, which were his active years, were minimal.
Having been instructed to join the NSDAP, Hess immediately started to cultivate a close relationship with Hitler, and in 1923 took part in the historical Bürgerbräukeller Putsch. As the putsch failed, Hess escaped to Austria, thus, unlike Hitler, avoiding arrest. His initial reaction was that everything had been lost for the NSDAP and its Führer, but apparently, he was quickly advised to change his mind, after which he returned to Bavaria, surrendered himself to the authorities, and requested to be incarcerated together with Hitler, his request promptly granted. During those months in Landsberg prison, which had evolved into a Nazi legend, the first, pro-Russian and anti-Capitalist, version of Mein Kampf was born between the two of them. It was a far cry from the subsequent radical revision, supplemented by a new second volume, which emphasized the need for Lebensraum, and consequently, was drastically anti-Russian, this time influenced not by Hess, but by a certain Josef Czerny, a Czech, but an unmistakable promoter of the Western, anti-Russian agenda.
Although Hess’s agenda seemed to have lost in the final draft of Hitler’s global strategy, articulated in the second version of Mein Kampf, his staunch loyalty to the Führer was appreciated, and when Hitler came to power in Germany, Hess’s fortune rose with him, making Hess one of the top three or four (arguably) men in the State’s hierarchy. Needless to say, despite the setback of his pro-Russian agenda, Hess continued to pursue it, both in his role as Hitler’s adviser, and in his speeches at public gatherings.
Stalin treasured Hess, and anyone who has heard or read Hess’s speeches at the Nuremberg rallies ought to understand why. Nevertheless, being a supreme fatalist, he just did not believe in Hess’s capacity to deliver a miracle, and considered a war with Hitler’s Germany inevitable.
Although it may be true to say that Hess did continue to have some clout in Berlin, probably, as a result of Hitler’s appreciation of his old times loyalty,--- in the course of the years he was gradually and irretrievably losing his power and his influence, ironically, to his own old-time staffer Martin Bormann, whose own star was now rapidly rising. Unlike other Nazi leaders, Bormann himself remained virtually unknown in Germany, but, even more ironically, he was apparently not an honest broker at all. It was hilarious for me to read in a book recently published in the United States that Bormann was probably a crack Soviet agent (!!!), whereas from my own knowledge about him, it was quite the other way round: in fact, he was a crack British agent, promoting an explicit Western agenda and constantly suspiciously spying on his boss Hess, apparently, on British orders. (The rest of Bormann’s story will be told in my Wallenberg entry.)
Eventually, completely out of political favor, Hess was able to provide his last, vital service to Moscow, by daringly flying to Britain, in May 1941, to compromise the potentially deadly to Russia secret peace talks between London and Berlin, whose success could have shut down the Western front, enabling Germany to focus her war machine entirely on the Russians, assuring Hitler of the victory.
The trick which Hess used, was magnificent in its simplicity: all he had to do was to make public what was meant to be top secret. Drawing the limelight of the British press to himself by his amazing flight, he was quick to declare what was presumably his primary objective: a secret peace between Germany and Britain, causing an avalanche of public indignation, and effectively demolishing any prospects of such private deal in the foreseeable future.
...As everybody knows, there was no deal made then or later between Nazi Germany and the West. What very few know (and what these few are not telling!) is that the main reason why it was never made was the 1941 flight to Britain of Rudolf Hess.
Having effectively destroyed the German Communist Party (whose leaders saw themselves as the rightful heirs of Karl Marx and refused to be subordinated to Lenin, seen by them as a Marxist impostor), Lenin’s agents were scouting Germany in search of a nice new little party which would be much easier to patronize. The name National Socialist German Workers’ Party sounded about right. The Soviets were attempting to cultivate and then take control of the Nazi Party in a number of ways. Besides financing it indirectly, they inserted their people into Nazi membership. In the early days, those were a handful of Soviet friends, who were not so much crazy about Bolshevism, as convinced that a friendship with Soviet Russia was the right course for Germany. One of such friends of Russia was Rudolf Hess.
Being a friend of Russia in those years was not a crime for any patriotic German. That appalling Great War, in which Germany had been fighting Russia, among others, ended with a humiliating defeat, but Russia had no hand in that humiliation. The main foreign culprits, in German eyes, were primarily the French, partly the British, and, to a lesser extent, the Americans. For those thinking Germans who remembered recent history and drew lessons from it, their present defeat had to be the direct result of their leaders ignoring the wise precept of Prince Otto von Bismarck, who, not that long ago, had warned his countrymen not to quarrel with Russia, but, rather, to be her friend, lest Germany would be drawn into fighting a losing war on two fronts. Considering that France was Germany’s historical enemy number one, Bismarck’s fear of a two-front war, in case of a rift with Russia, was well justified.
There was, however, a serious threat of Bismarck’s words not being heeded yet again, marking Germany for a second crushing defeat in a potential second two-front war. The doctrine of Lebensraum, and its corollary, Drang nach Osten, amounted to setting Germany and Russia on a collision course one more time, and such a bleak prospect had to be avoided at all costs. Needless to say, in this peculiar situation, Bismarck’s friends were indirectly Russia’s friends, and their friendship was a matter of life and death for Russia as well.
After World War I, Soviet Russia deliberately cultivated a warm friendship with the defeated Germans, and, as I already mentioned before, helped them reconstitute and train their armed forces on the Russian territory in violation of the 1919 Treaty of Versailles. Thus, being a direct friend of Russia was not only acceptable, but in fact a very commendable and even natural thing to be.
Rudolf Hess was not a paid Soviet agent, although his career greatly benefited from the Soviet support. He was not only allowed, but essentially unequivocally encouraged, by the terms of his Russian relationship, to remain a dedicated German patriot, who, like so many others like him, was pursuing the legitimate German pro-Russian agenda, endorsed by the father of the Second Reich himself. Did this make him a Soviet agent of influence? Perhaps. But a Soviet spy he never was, and his always one-sided contacts with Moscow (he was on the receiving end of invariably very brief and cryptic Soviet instructions), between 1919 and 1941, which were his active years, were minimal.
Having been instructed to join the NSDAP, Hess immediately started to cultivate a close relationship with Hitler, and in 1923 took part in the historical Bürgerbräukeller Putsch. As the putsch failed, Hess escaped to Austria, thus, unlike Hitler, avoiding arrest. His initial reaction was that everything had been lost for the NSDAP and its Führer, but apparently, he was quickly advised to change his mind, after which he returned to Bavaria, surrendered himself to the authorities, and requested to be incarcerated together with Hitler, his request promptly granted. During those months in Landsberg prison, which had evolved into a Nazi legend, the first, pro-Russian and anti-Capitalist, version of Mein Kampf was born between the two of them. It was a far cry from the subsequent radical revision, supplemented by a new second volume, which emphasized the need for Lebensraum, and consequently, was drastically anti-Russian, this time influenced not by Hess, but by a certain Josef Czerny, a Czech, but an unmistakable promoter of the Western, anti-Russian agenda.
Although Hess’s agenda seemed to have lost in the final draft of Hitler’s global strategy, articulated in the second version of Mein Kampf, his staunch loyalty to the Führer was appreciated, and when Hitler came to power in Germany, Hess’s fortune rose with him, making Hess one of the top three or four (arguably) men in the State’s hierarchy. Needless to say, despite the setback of his pro-Russian agenda, Hess continued to pursue it, both in his role as Hitler’s adviser, and in his speeches at public gatherings.
Stalin treasured Hess, and anyone who has heard or read Hess’s speeches at the Nuremberg rallies ought to understand why. Nevertheless, being a supreme fatalist, he just did not believe in Hess’s capacity to deliver a miracle, and considered a war with Hitler’s Germany inevitable.
Although it may be true to say that Hess did continue to have some clout in Berlin, probably, as a result of Hitler’s appreciation of his old times loyalty,--- in the course of the years he was gradually and irretrievably losing his power and his influence, ironically, to his own old-time staffer Martin Bormann, whose own star was now rapidly rising. Unlike other Nazi leaders, Bormann himself remained virtually unknown in Germany, but, even more ironically, he was apparently not an honest broker at all. It was hilarious for me to read in a book recently published in the United States that Bormann was probably a crack Soviet agent (!!!), whereas from my own knowledge about him, it was quite the other way round: in fact, he was a crack British agent, promoting an explicit Western agenda and constantly suspiciously spying on his boss Hess, apparently, on British orders. (The rest of Bormann’s story will be told in my Wallenberg entry.)
Eventually, completely out of political favor, Hess was able to provide his last, vital service to Moscow, by daringly flying to Britain, in May 1941, to compromise the potentially deadly to Russia secret peace talks between London and Berlin, whose success could have shut down the Western front, enabling Germany to focus her war machine entirely on the Russians, assuring Hitler of the victory.
The trick which Hess used, was magnificent in its simplicity: all he had to do was to make public what was meant to be top secret. Drawing the limelight of the British press to himself by his amazing flight, he was quick to declare what was presumably his primary objective: a secret peace between Germany and Britain, causing an avalanche of public indignation, and effectively demolishing any prospects of such private deal in the foreseeable future.
...As everybody knows, there was no deal made then or later between Nazi Germany and the West. What very few know (and what these few are not telling!) is that the main reason why it was never made was the 1941 flight to Britain of Rudolf Hess.
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