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“That dynamic will change soon enough,” said Goebbels.

Hitler nodded. “And thus the purpose of this meeting. Martin, the decree?”

Bormann, who had become Hitler’s personal secretary as his influence grew within the inner circle, handed Hitler a chancellery decree that deputized members of the SS, led by Heinrich Himmler, and members of the SA, run by Ernst Röhm, as members of the auxiliary police.

“There, Ernst.” Hitler signed the decree. “The SA now has the powers you wanted. That puts us in position to implement the plan.”

By the stroke of his signature, Hitler had just bestowed upon the brownshirts and his personal protection unit the equivalent of police powers throughout all of Germany.

“Thank you, mein Führer.” Röhm, as always, sat erect as a statue.

“So that brings us to the plan, to the—what are we calling it?—the moment of ‘national crisis.’ When will this happen, Hermann?”

“Sunday, mein Führer,” said Göring. “We are ready.”

“And Ernst, how many of your men will be involved?”

“Three, mein Führer,” said Röhm. “Three of our men, and then the Communist immigrant.”

“Yes, yes.” Hitler sat back in his chair. “Tell me about this man.”

“A Dutch immigrant,” said Göring. “A bricklayer, currently unemployed, due to an accident. A simple man. He does not appear to be completely of sound mind. But most importantly, an avowed, documented Communist. He is perfect.”

Hitler looked at Röhm. “I am placing great faith in your choice of men, Ernst.”

“My men are loyal and reliable, mein Führer. I take full responsibility for them.”

Goebbels leaned forward. “Perhaps this is as much detail as you care to have, mein Führer?”

“Yes.” Hitler nodded. “Yes, yes. And this will happen on Sunday?”

“Yes,” said Goebbels. “You will dine at my flat. There will be others there, as well. Reliable individuals who are not affiliated with us politically. They will be witness to our expressions of great shock and horror when I receive the news of the national crisis by phone.”

“Yes, witnesses will be critical. We must be very surprised when it happens. In disbelief, even.” Hitler stood, and thus did everyone else. “Gentlemen, our putsch failed nearly ten years ago due to a failure of execution and a failure of will. That cannot happen this Sunday. If our national crisis goes as planned, everything we have fought for will come to fruition. If it does not, then many of the people in this office will go to prison.”

66

February 27, 1933

Reichstag building

Platz der Republik 1

ON THE LEFT BANK of Berlin’s River Spree, resting on the east end of the Königsplatz, stood the magnificent Reichstag building, home to Germany’s parliament. A neobaroque rectangular structure, the building featured a dome of steel and glass with towers at each of the four corners, representing the four kingdoms of Germany.

At 9:00 on Sunday night, a young theology student named Hans Flöter looked up as he walked along the southwestern corner of the parliament building, hearing the sound of broken glass. Through a window, he saw a man carrying a flaming torch. The student rushed to find a police officer, but by the time the first responding officers appeared, bursts of orange flame were shooting out from the Reichstag dome. Nearly the entire building was ablaze.

Fires set throughout the building had traveled with little resistance past the dry wooden paneling, upholstered furniture, and heavy curtains that dominated the old building.

The police found and detained one man inside, attempting to light a fire under an old leather couch. He was dirty and sweaty, seemingly disoriented even once subdued. From his pockets, police recovered a knife, a passport, and numerous brochures from the local Communist Party.

His name was Marinus van der Lubbe, a twenty-four-year-old unemployed Dutch immigrant—and, most important, a documented Communist sympathizer.

Chancellor Adolf Hitler arrived at the scene along with Joseph Goebbels and Hermann Göring after the fire had been largely contained and the damage irreversible. Hitler and Goebbels had been dining, they explained, at Goebbels’s Berlin flat on Reichskanzlerplatz with other luminaries, celebrating the Führer’s one-month anniversary as chancellor, when they got word of the tragedy.

Rudolf Diels, chief of the Prussian political police, arrived at nearly the same time. He climbed over the bulging hoses of the Berlin Fire Brigade and entered the building. A police captain directed him to the area where the suspect was detained. He had been moved to one of the few areas of the building not under threat, the conference room for the Federal Council in the southeast corner. Diels was in the midst of a briefing from the responding officers when Martin Bormann, secretary to Chancellor Hitler, approached him. “The chancellor would like to speak with you,” he said.

Bormann led Diels to one of the balconies overlooking the legislative chamber, where the fire brigade was still spraying out remnants of flames. Hitler was there with Goebbels and Göring, who cried out in a voice heavy with emotion, “This is the beginning of the Communist revolt! They will start their attack now! Not a moment must be lost!”