The Proud Shall Stumble by Gerald N. Lund

Author:Gerald N. Lund
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Deseret Book Company
Published: 2017-04-09T16:00:00+00:00

February 25, 1925, 8:48 p.m.—

Café Deutschland, Marienplatz, Munich

Hans pushed his plate back, picked up his stein and emptied the last of his lager, and sat back with a long sigh of pleasure. “Thank you, Adolf. You are right. This is the best wienerschnitzel in Bavaria. It’s been so long since we last ate here together, I had forgotten about it.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Hitler half turned and looked up at the large cuckoo clock on the wall and then picked up his cup of tea and took a sip. “So, do you still have time to talk?”

Hans glanced at the clock and nodded. “I do. I called Emilee and told her not to wait up for me. But I do need to make the ten o’clock trolley.”

“We shall keep our eye on the time.” Adolf motioned for the waitress and she came over. He paid her and they waited as she cleared the dishes off the table. When she was finished and had walked away, Adolf pushed back from the table and crossed his legs. His eyes were thoughtful as he studied his friend. “So, Hans,” he said finally. “Have you heard the latest Nazi jokes?”

Hans started. Nazi jokes? Had he heard him correctly?

Adolf smiled ruefully. “Come on, my friend. Surely you’ve heard them, at least some of them. I understand they are everywhere now.”

“Well . . . uh . . . yeah, I’ve heard a few.” Was this a trap? A test of some kind? But Adolf seemed genuinely interested. “Okay,” Hans said. “Uh . . . what do you call Nazis after the Beer Hall Putsch?”

Adolf chuckled. “Sauer Krauts. Ja, I like that one.”

“Have you heard about the new National Socialist restaurant?”

“No.”

“The food is good, but you always come away hungry for more power.”

Adolf smiled at that, but it was clear he didn’t find that one amusing. But he motioned for Hans to continue.

Hans thought for a moment. He had heard a few that were quite vulgar, so he skipped those. “How does the recipe for German chocolate cake begin?”

“I don’t know.”

“First, you have to invade the kitchen and overthrow the cooks.”

Adolf threw back his head and hooted. “Very good. I like that one. But you’re holding back, Hans. Some of them involve me. Don’t hold back.”

“Um . . . I’m not sure I’ve heard any of those,” Hans muttered, though he clearly had heard them.

Adolf was nodding, but all humor was gone from him now. “That’s the state of our party right now, Hans. We are the butt of dozens of jokes. We’re the laughingstock of Bavaria. And we are to change the world? The very thought doubles people over with laughter.”

Not sure how to respond to that, because it was all too true, Hans murmured something unintelligible.

“You know how I spent my time in prison, don’t you?”

“Uh . . . ja. You said you dictated your memoirs to Rudolf Hess. Your autobiography.”

“Autobiography is more accurate than memoir, but even that word is a little misleading.

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