Bombing Hitler Page 15

  As he had in the past, the good-natured Georg found himself exploited, this time by his mother; yet he never received any thanks. He was not able to get anywhere with his stubborn father. He fell back into his no-cash life, helping his mother on the farm and his father at the wood business, where he smoothed and trimmed off pieces of wood. His only source of pleasure was a small woodworking shop that he managed to set up at the house, in which he could build furniture on order, as he had done in Meersburg.

  Georg Elser with his younger brother Leonhard, 1933 or 1934.

  The sacrifice he made by returning was for naught. His father started drinking even more heavily and sold land to pay off his obligations. The family was living off what it could harvest. And as he had done throughout Georg’s childhood, his father would come home drunk and create a scene, cursing his wife, Georg, and Leonhard, saying it was their faults that everything was falling apart. In only one way he did seem to have improved: the aging man, who was now sixty and clearly becoming weaker, no longer abused anyone or tore up the furniture, which his sons would then have to repair.

  Such a situation might well have provided a strapping young working-class fellow reason enough to straighten out the intergenerational relationship in a physical way, but Georg was too good-natured to ever punch his father. Georg’s girlfriend Elsa Härlen would later tell the Gestapo that this man, the assassin, was in every way a friendly and helpful person who could never do anything to hurt anyone.

  After an absence of seven years, Elser returned to Königsbronn with the basic views of a Communist. Elser’s friend Anton Egetemaier, who played with him in the zither group, later recounted that Elser had never been openly political nor engaged in political discussions, but had brought back from Konstanz “a very firm political view”—translation: a clear and uncompromising enmity toward the Nazi regime.

  During the Berlin interrogation Elser admitted that, although he had not been a member of the KPD (Communist Party of Germany), he had always voted Communist in order to do something for the interests of the common worker. He had also always been a member of the Woodworkers Union, which was considered a left-wing organization. So it is not surprising that at a meeting in Königsbronn he made the acquaintance of Josef Schurr, a Communist from Schnaitheim. What is surprising is that a letter to the editor by Schurr, which appeared in a newspaper in Ulm in 1947, was overlooked by Elser researchers. Even if it contained several errors stemming from faulty recollection—a common occurrence in many such sources—the basic political message of the letter is surely accurate.

  At the meeting, which was held sometime before 1933, Elser revealed to Schurr, whom he did not know, that he was an ardent anti-Nazi. Elser, who since his return had become more closed off, was rarely this outspoken. Both of these men were practical people, not public speakers, and they wanted to do something. Assuming that Schurr’s recollection was not influenced by information acquired later, the opposition that Elser expressed could be described as almost brutal. Carefully working out a motivation was not Schurr’s strong suit, and he has been criticized by many historians for this.

  Schurr recalled a determined Elser: “He was always extremely interested in some act of violence against Hitler and his cronies. He always called Hitler a ‘gypsy’—one just had to look at his criminal face. We spent a lot of time talking about what could be done and what absolutely had to be done. Elser and I managed to strike a few blows against the Nazis, and they never suspected us.”

  What did Schurr mean by “a few blows”? Did they destroy the Party’s display cases containing the anti-Semitic paper Der Stürmer? Did they burn a flag, break windows at a Nazi’s house, or play a trick on the local Nazi official Georg Vollmer? It is assumed that Elser did not produce and distribute leaflets—the classic form of Communist protest. In a rural environment, this kind of action would not have made a great deal of sense.

  Their friendship was interrupted when, like many other Communists, Schurr was arrested early in 1933 and incarcerated for five months at the Heuberg concentration camp located near Stetten am Kalten Mark in the Schwäbisch Alb region. When Schurr was released, he got a job at the Waldenmaier armament factory, where he was kept under surveillance. It was probably not a coincidence that in 1937 Elser got a job at the same company and started gathering materials for his time bomb.

  After Hitler assumed power, it became almost obligatory to listen to his radio addresses. At the sound of his voice, Elser would get up and leave the tavern. He refused to listen at home as well. Elser was not the type to listen to his enemy and analyze his words in order to combat him. He was opposed to him for good reasons and felt no need to reveal them to anyone. He simply did not want to hear all this agitation and scolding, and would leave without saying a word. He was by no means alone in his views; however, it was soon forgotten that such opposition had existed.

  Elser’s recalcitrance was also evident when it came to saluting the swastika flag. People on the street were required to publicly acknowledge their allegiance to the regime. In 1933 in the town of Giengen in the Brenz valley, there was an incident involving the SA. When a pedestrian passed by an SA parade and failed to salute the flag, an SA man jumped out of ranks and punched him in the face. The man who had been struck trusted in the justice system and hired an attorney known for his anti-Nazi views to defend him in the municipal court in Heidenheim. His acquittal rested on a key statement by his attorney: “There is no law stating that the Blutfahne must be saluted.”

  An occurrence witnessed by Egetemaier on May 1, 1938, demonstrated Elser’s scorn for the Nazi regime more blatantly. He and Elser were standing near the Weisses Rössle, the most popular inn in Königsbronn, when a procession of brown shirts passed by the inn carrying the Blutfahne. According to Egetemaier, everybody on the street saluted except for Elser. When Egetemaier warned Elser that he had to salute the flag, Elser answered bluntly in Swabian dialect, “Nope, just kiss my ass!” Then he turned around, looked down the street in another direction, and starting whistling a tune. Elser’s attitude, which he did not care to discuss, was: “I’d rather be shot than move a muscle for the Nazis.” And that was that.

  At elections during the Third Reich, Elser was also uncompromising. Once, when his girlfriend Elsa Härlen asked him if he was going to vote, he replied tersely, “No.” She tried to urge him to vote, “because of the townspeople.” But Elser was indifferent to such considerations. He was displeased that she was going to vote, but he did not try to stop her.

  Elsa Härlen had similar experiences with Elser when it came to campaigns for the Nazi Party. Elser was very consistent in his statements. “He always said he was for something or against it, but he didn’t like discussions. One time when the SA was collecting money in order to buy uniforms, I said I didn’t like this way of raising money. And then Elser said: ‘Either you’re for it and give them something, or you’re against it and you don’t.’”

  In the working-class environment of the upper Brenz valley, Elser’s attitude was not so unusual. In Itzelberg, a village near Königsbronn, as well as in Schnaitheim, the KPD received the most votes in the Reichtag election of November 1932. In the district of Heidenheim, there were more votes recorded for the Communists than the national average, but the Nazis got more votes as well. In Schnaitheim the Nazis lagged far behind in fourth place. The situation was different in Königsbronn, where the quarry owner Georg Vollmer as local Nazi leader wielded his patriarchal scepter. Here the party of the swastika led in elections even before 1933.

  Georg Vollmer had been a Party member since 1931. He immediately became the local Party boss and was the de facto head of the municipality; however, he had since ceased any effort to build the Party. Those in the community who held differing views—and he of course knew them—were simply left in peace. In this rural area the political climate was not as heated as it was in the big cities. During the 1934 election, a slip of paper was found in a ballot box with the following bit of folk poetry: “Give Hitl
er the boot/And beat Röhm, the fruit.” A poll worker claimed it was the handwriting of the Communist Christian Konrad, who resided in Eichhalde. Konrad was generally considered to be a Communist, even though he had never been a party member. As people were trying to decide what to do with the note, Party leader Vollmer came by and put it in his pocket, saying he would take care of it—then promptly ignored it. This type of thing was typical in rural areas. People were among their own, and political strife seemed unnecessary. It wouldn’t do to squeal on a member of the community. It was in such an atmosphere that Elser was able to hold his own and continue his criticism of the Nazi regime unscathed.

  At the beginning of 1933, Elser joined the Königsbronn zither club, an organization that had been started in 1927. In the Berlin interrogation, he cited his family circumstances as his main reason for joining: “With music I was hoping to find relief from the situation at home.” The club had eight to twelve members, many of whom were related. Hans Elser, who was at the time only twelve years old, recalled that Georg often came to their house and remembered him as “a very accessible, helpful, and affable person” who seemed “completely apolitical.” Many people said that Georg Elser was simply neither an agitator nor one who talked politics. Any political deliberations he engaged in he seemed to have engaged in alone.

  Faced with the increasing manipulation of cultural life by the Nazis, Elser took refuge in music and dancing. Rehearsals were held on Friday or Saturday evening in a side room at the Hecht tavern. Occasionally, dances and concerts were held in a dance hall. In 1934, Konkordia, a glee club with many members, wanted to provide dance music but was lacking a bass. At that point Elser decided to add bass to the list of instruments he could play, so he bought a bass with his own money and started taking lessons. He also became quite accomplished at Schuhplatteln, a kind of Bavarian clog dancing.

  Elser found yet another way to escape his grim family life by joining a hiking club. The cultural machine had insinuated itself into the club’s motto “Strength through joy”, but otherwise there was no evidence of political indoctrination in the organization. It was here in 1933 that he met Elsa Härlen, who by 1936 was to become the love of his short life. There is a group photo taken in the Wental, a beautiful dry valley located in the uplands of the Alb near Steinheim and one of the most popular spots for outings in the area, which shows Elser wearing knickerbockers and standing behind his sweetheart Elsa. He still favored this style of trousers when he was living in Munich, and the investigative branch of the Gestapo made use of this detail in its wanted poster.

  The Weisses Rössle in Königsbronn, the most popular place in town during Elser’s time.

  Georg Elser’s work situation was now even more erratic than it was in Konstanz. He moved between the independence offered by his small shop and a regular job in a woodworking shop. This irregularity was brought on by the alimony requirements imposed on him in Konstanz. Whenever he started working at a regular job, the child welfare office soon found out about it from the employment office and moved to seize a large portion of his wages.

  When he worked on his own, Elser was extremely conscientious. Paul Bässler of the Stuttgart Gestapo recalled from his investigation: “As a craftsman, he [Elser] produced first-class work. He would prefer to take a loss than have anyone say that his work was not satisfactory. For the most part, he created small boxes as well as grandfather clocks or cases for them.” He produced generally the same items that he had developed in Meersburg.

  If orders were slow coming in, Elser would work for a while at Eugen Grupp’s woodworking shop in Königsbronn. The first time he worked from July through November 1934, another time from June through September 1935. However, as soon as the child welfare office showed up, Elser would go back to working for himself, sometimes as a subcontractor for his boss. Wages during the Nazi era were of course modest at best, as Elser subsequently recounted in detail to the Gestapo, even after being subjected to brutal treatment. His hourly wage had fallen to fifty-five pfennigs, half of what it had been in Bottighofen—giving him yet another reason to see Switzerland as the promised land. Being thus relegated to the fringes of economic life provided Elser with his most potent criticism of Hitler’s government.

  When Hitler began to step up arms production for the Wehrmacht, Elser was also affected—Master Grupp received a large order for desks for the Wehrmacht. Since Grupp needed extra help because of the tight deadlines, he rehired Elser, who then left after only six months. He had two reasons for leaving: The pay was too low, and he was tired of having the boss interfere in his work. Elser had distinct pride in his work, and even as an employee he insisted on working independently. There were possibly also questions of ethics and economy involved in his decision to leave. The shop had to deliver desks to the Wehrmacht by a specific date, and the work did not need to be so meticulous. But Elser insisted on delivering top-quality work— meaning of course more expensive work—even to the military.

  The continued decline of Elser’s father hastened the final breakup of the family. (In a grotesque turn of events, the Elsers would be reunited briefly in November 1939 by the Gestapo, as they were being taken to Stuttgart as prisoners.) Toward the end of 1935, the father had to sell his entire estate to his principal creditor, a cattle dealer named Maurer from Königsbronn. The indebtedness was so great that, despite an appraised value of 10,000 or 11,000 marks, the property brought only 6500 marks. The only parcel remaining in the hands of the family was a fruit orchard on the Flachsberg. There Georg took a shed and converted it into a permanent cottage where his father lived. Gradually the old man lost the ability to walk, so Georg had to take his meals to him. It was here, on the outskirts of town, that Elser would later on carry out tests of his explosive devices.

  The orchard and the shed stand out as sad symbols of a family in ruins. This last bit of property became a refuge for what remained of the Elser estate and at the same time the practice field for a bold assassination attempt that, with a bit of luck, might have saved Europe from a mad dictator.

  From the sale of the old property, Elser’s mother received 2,000 marks for herself. With the balance, Elser’s father settled his debts— and continued drinking. He was allowed by the new owner to have a room in his former house; Elser’s mother moved in with daughter Friederike in Schnaitheim; and brother Leonhard went into the Reich labor service. This time at least, Georg had it a little better. He became a lodger with the Härlens, so that he was closer to Elsa. In the basement of the house, he once again set up his own shop and worked on his own. He attempted to cover his rent by bartering his skills, building chairs and a cupboard for the kitchen. But Elsa’s husband put a stop to this as soon as he began to suspect that the two were having an affair.

  Another rift in the Elser family occurred in 1938 when his parents purchased half of a double house on Wiesenstrasse with what money they had left. Georg was present at the notary’s office and observed that not everything was entered into the record that had been agreed upon. Appearing as owners were his father, his mother, and Leonhard, who in the meantime had gotten married—each with a one-third interest in the property. Apparently, Georg had been promised part ownership, but in the notary’s office this agreement was disregarded. Elser felt that he had been expelled from the family, and his sense of justice had been deeply violated. For nearly his entire life he had contributed the most to sustaining the family. For years he had worked for them for nothing. Now he was not even given the right to a place to live. Since almost everyone in the family stuck together in this matter, Georg Elser abruptly severed his relationships with all of them except his sister Maria in Stuttgart. In so doing, he provided another source for the tenacious legend of Elser the eccentric. One by one the bridges behind him were being burned. He was distancing himself from his surroundings and had nothing more to lose. Before him now lay only Munich, the scene of the assassination attempt, and Switzerland, the land of refuge.

  Against the backdrop of these constantly w
orsening circum-stances, there was no chance for his love with Elsa Härlen to blossom. At first things looked positive; Elsa was relieved that Georg was completely different from her violent and drunken husband. In the six years that she knew Georg Elser, she did not feel that he had behaved badly even once. She considered him “decent, modest, quiet—even taciturn—frugal, very skilled and hard-working.” In all matters he would pour out his heart to her—all matters, that is, except politics. He wanted her to take care of him like a mother; she was his “motherly sweetheart.”

  After a few months, Elsa Härlen’s husband threw Elser out. The marriage was dissolved around the end of 1938. The commonly held view was that Georg Elser was at fault; the men in the community did not speak of Elsa’s suffering. His musician friend Egetemaier offered him a room. But the illicit love affair was now the talk of the town. When Egetemaier saw Elsa leaving Georg’s room around four in the morning, he told him, “Georg, this is going too far—not in my house.” Egetemaier was doubtless concerned about the procurement statute, under which toleration of illegal relations could be prosecuted as procurement. The same scenario played out again later; when Georg tried to take Elsa to his room at his parents’ house, his mother stepped in and threw him out of the house. The only option he had left was a storage room at the Schmauders’ place in Schnaitheim, where he lived almost as a member of the family.