The Inside Story of the Hess Flight
ANONYMOUS
On 10 May 1941, Rudolf Hess made his daring flight from Germany to Britain in a vain bid to stop the tragic conflict between two nations he admired and loved. When Hitler's Deputy parachuted to earth from a Messerschmitt fighter over south Scotland, Germany and Britain had already been at war with each other for twenty months.
It is well known that Hess made this unprecedented move to impress on Britain's war leaders just how earnestly Germany desired peace. But even after the passage of forty years, much about the famous episode remains shrouded in mystery. The biggest question is whether Hitler knew in advance about the flight. Did he even order Hess on this mission of peace, as some insist? We cannot be sure if Hess would reveal the truth if he could. His ardent loyalty to Hitler might keep him from telling the whole story even if he were able. The truth may not be known until the secret British government documents on the matter are one day finally removed from the closed archives and made available to the world in uncensored form.
Still, there is strong evidence that Hess risked his life for peace under orders from Adolf Hitler himself. In its issue of May 1943, the American Mercury published "The Inside Story of the Hess Flight," a remarkable article which self-assuredly reported that the flight was personally directed by Hitler and completely expected by the British.
In 1943 the American Mercury was a popular, highly successful and very "establishment" monthly. It was quite different from the iconoclastic journal that H. L. Mencken had founded and edited many years before.
Although the article on the Hess flight appeared anonymously, the magazine's editors vouched for its accuracy: "The writer, a highly reputable observer, is known to us and we publish this article with full faith in its sources." The Reader's Digest published a condensed version of the piece in its July 1943 issue and likewise declared it accurate: "According to Allan A. Michie, The Reader's Digest's London correspondent, this account of the Hess flight corresponds to the version accepted by well-informed journalists in Britain."
Written in the midst of war, the author's bellicose joy at the failure of the Hess peace venture may appear regrettable and even contemptible today. Still, the information it contains (if correct) puts both Germany and Britain in a very different light than the one originally intended by the author. Because of it
s unquestionable historical importance, this article deserves serious consideration today.
-- Mark Weber
I
Why Rudolf Hess took the sky road to Scotland has never been revealed officially, principally because two leaders of Allied strategy, Winston Churchill and Franklin Delano Roosevelt, believed at the time that no useful purpose could be served by the telling. Hess was consigned to the limbo of hush-hush and all attempts to probe the craziest episode of the war were resolutely suppressed.
Today, two years after, many Englishmen and a few Americans know exactly why Hess came to England, and most of those in possession of the true story feel that it should now be told. For one thing, it would place before critics of Anglo-American policy towards Soviet Russia the vital and silencing fact that at a difficult moment, when he might have withdrawn his country from the war at Russia’s expense, Churchill pledged Britain to continue fighting as a full ally of the newest victim of Nazi duplicity. There would have been some semblance of poetic justice to such a withdrawal-was it not Stalin who set the war in motion by signing a friendship pact with Hitler in 1939? But the British Prime Minister never even considered such action.
A few details are still unclear-only British Intelligence and several top-flight officials, know them; a few facts must still be kept dark for reasons of policy. But the essential story can be safely, and usefully, told. It makes one of the most fascinating tales of superintrigue in the annals of international relations. It adds up to a supreme British coup that must have shattered the pride of the Nazis in their diplomacy and their Secret Service. In that domain, it is fair to say, the Hess incident is a defeat equivalent to Stalingrad in the military domain.
Rudolf Hess did not “escape” from Germany. He came as a winged messenger of peace, and no Parsifal in shining armor was ever more rigorously and loyally consecrated to his mission. He came not only with Adolf Hitler’s blessing, but upon Hitler’s explicit orders. Far from being a surprise, the arrival of Hess was expected by a limited number of Britishers, the outlines of his mission were known in advance, and the Nazi leader actually had an RAF escort in the final stage of his air journey.
On the basis of reliable information since obtained from German sources and from indications given by Hess himself, it is possible to reconstruct the situation in Berlin that led to the mad Hess undertaking.
By the beginning of 1941 Hitler, in disregard of the advice of some of his generals, had decided that he could no longer put off his “holy war” against Russia. The attempt to knock out the Western democracies before turning to the East had failed. The alternative was an understanding with Great Britain which would leave Germany free to concentrate everything against Russia-a return, in some measure, to the basis of co-operation set up in Munich. Whatever Chamberlain and Daladier may have thought, the Germans had interpreted the Munich deal as a carte blanche for Nazi domination of Eastern Europe. The Allied guarantees to Poland and Rumania thereafter and their declaration of war, were indignantly denounced in Berlin as a democratic double-cross.
Hitler put out a tentative feeler in January 1941 in the form of an inquiry regarding the British attitude towards possible direct negotiations. It was not directed to the British Government but to a group of influential Britishers, among them the Duke of Hamilton, who belonged to the since discredited Anglo-German Fellowship Association. An internationally known diplomat served as courier. In the course of time a reply arrived in Berlin expressing limited interest and asking for more information. Tediously, cautiously, without either side quite revealing its hand, a plan was developed. When the German proposal of negotiations on neutral soil was rejected, Berlin countered with an offer to send a delegate to England. After all, had not Chamberlain flown to Germany?
A delegate was selected-Ernst Wilhelm Bohle, Gauleiter of all Germans abroad. Handsome, South African-born, Cambridge educated Willi Bohle was actually a British subject, though his passport was considerably out of date, and he seemed ideally suited for the mission. Several important foreign journalists in Berlin were let in on the secret that Bohle was being groomed for a very big and mysterious job abroad, and the story was planted in Turkish and South American papers to test British reaction. When weeks passed and the British press did not pick up the story, thus indicating an indifference to Bohle, Berlin became worried.
It was then that the Führer came through with one of his “geniale” ideas. Bohle was not the right man, he said. He did not have the national stature to impress the British. A really big Nazi would have to go, one whose name was inseparably linked with Hitler himself and whose presence could not possibly fail to command attention. He must be one, said Hitler, who would represent the “goodness” of the German race, one whose sincerity was unquestionable. What is more, he must be able to speak officially for the German Government and to give binding commitments on the behalf of the Führer. Providence, Hitler pointed out, had given Germany just the man-Walter Richard Rudolf Hess, Nazi Number Three, who in addition to fulfilling the other qualifications had grown up in the English quarter of Alexandria, spoke fluent English and “understood the British mind.”