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On 10 May 1941, on a whim, Hitler's deputy Rudolf Hess flew a Messerschmitt Bf 110 to Scotland in a bizarre effort to make peace with Britain; Göring sent fighters to stop him but he was long gone. Imprisoned and tried at Nuremberg, he would die by his own hand in 1987, aged 93. That's the accepted explanation. Ever since, conspiracy theories have swirled around the famous mission. How strong were Hess's connections with the British establishment, including royalty? Was the death of the king's brother, the Duke of Kent, associated with the Hess overture for peace? In the many books written about Hess, one obvious line of enquiry has been overlooked, until now: an analysis of the flight itself – the flight plan, equipment, data sheets, navigation system. Through their long investigation, authors John Harris and Richard Wilbourn have come to a startling conclusion: whilst the flight itself has been well recorded, the target destination has remained hidden. The implications are far reaching and lend credence to the theory that the British establishment has hidden the truth of the full extent of British/Nazi communications, in part to spare the reputations of senior members of the Royal Family. Using original photography, documentation and diagrams, Rudolf Hess sheds light on one of the most intriguing stories of the Second World War.
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About the Authors
John Harris and Richard Wilbourn have been collaborating on their investigation of the Hess story since the early 1990s. Their research has taken them throughout Europe and they claim credit for discovering the roles of Mary Violet Roberts, Tancred Borenius and Wladyslaw Sikorski in the affair. John has produced three previous titles on Hess and has written articles for History Today, Eye Spy and for national newspapers. When not pursuing their obsession, John is a chartered accountant and farmer in Northamptonshire and Richard is a farm manager in Norfolk.
Front cover illustration: Rudolf Hess. (Bundesarchiv, bild
183-1987-0313-507-CC-BY-SA)
First published 2014
This paperback edition first published 2022
The History Press
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© John Harris & Richard Wilbourn, 2014, 2022
The right of John Harris & Richard Wilbourn to be identified as the Authors of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the Publishers.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978 0 75249 565 1
Typesetting and origination by The History Press
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Acknowledgements
Preface
Introduction
Part 1 – Background
1 Was Hess Sane?
2 The German Position, Spring 1941
3 The British Position, Spring 1941
4 Communications (31.08.40 – 06.11.40)
5 The Sequence of Events Leading to the Flight (06.11.40–10.05.41)
Part 2 – The Aircraft for the Flight 91
6 The Hess Aircraft
7 The Fuselage and Other Parts
8 The Lennoxlove Map
9 The Mystery of the Flight Notes
10 German Navigation Systems
11 The British Air Defence System
12 Glasgow and the North Ayrshire Coast
13 Time, Sun and Moon
14 Dungavel House – The Target?
Part 3 – The Hess Flight
15 Germany and the North Sea
16 The Flight Across Scotland
17 Summary of the Flight
Part 4 – Aftermath and Conclusions
18 The Implications
19 The 14th Duke of Hamilton
20 The Nature and Extent of the Conspiracy
21 Royal Involvement in the Hess Affair
22 Questions and Answers
Appendix 1. Arthur Bauer’s Treatise on the Development of German Radio Direction Systems to 1945
Notes
Bibliography
Arthur Bauer – for his permission to reproduce his 2004 treatise on radio direction finding.
Ian Alder, RAF Museum, Stafford – for access to the other parts of the Bf 110.
Aurelia Borenius and her late father, Lars – for insight as to Tancred Borenius.
Chris Higley, John Cruickshank and The Charles Close Society – for permission to reproduce fourth edition ordnance survey quarter-inch map index and very helpful information concerning the Lennoxlove map.
Helen Cara – for diagrams, correspondence and file management.
Mr G. Day, Air Historical Branch – for trying to locate Elektra charts.
Peter Devitt, RAF Museum, Hendon – for encouragement and introduction to RAF Stafford.
Thomas Dunskus, Germany – for encouragement and support.
Gudmundur Helgason, U-boat Museum, Germany.
Matthew Hogan Research Services, Washington, USA – reference the Mercury article, 1943.
Dominic Hunger, University of Basle Library – reference Burckhardt.
Phil Judkins – for encouragement and help with Elektra stations.
Les Taylor and Whittles Publishing – for permission to reproduce the plans of the 1941 raids on Glasgow from the excellent book, Luftwaffe over Scotland.
Luftfahrt Archiv Hafner, Ludwigsburg – for supplying various technical manuals, relating to the Bf 110 and FuG 10EL.
Tony Maasz, the Royal Observer Corps (ROC) Museum Trust, Winchester.
Emily Oldfield, the British Red Cross Museum, London.
Peter Padfield – for giving us the opportunity to explain the pilot’s notes and the Cuddie vector.
David Priest, The National Archives, Kew – for reference to Scottish Artillery records.
Michael (SES) Svejgaard, Denmark – for help with Elektra and Husum.
The Radar Museum, RAF Neatishead – for attempting to track down the elusive Elektra charts.
Dr A. Suchitz, The Polish Institute and Sikorski Museum, London – reference Roman Battaglia.
Werner Schmittner (DJ4WG – Duxford Radio Society), Ochsenfurt, Germany – for help with Elektra and Sonne.
Wasyl Sydorenko, University of Toronto Library.
The staff of:
- The National Archives, Kew, London
- Bundesarchiv, Freiburg and Koblenz, Germany
- Cambridge City Library
- Cambridge Crematorium
- Northampton Central Library
- The Indian and Oriental Collection, London
- The Imperial War Museum, Duxford and London
- Trinity House, London
- East Kilbride Library, Scotland
- The Carnegie Library, Ayr, Scotland
And finally to our wives, Ann and Anne – ‘only seven years’?
In July 2011, the BBC reported that the Lutheran Church in Wunsiedel, Bavaria had decided to terminate the graveyard lease of the burial plot of Rudolf Hess and members of his close family. Since 1987, the grave had increasingly become a site of pilgrimage for the German Far Right. The remains were disinterred and, according to the report, subsequently cremated and scattered at sea. As part of the above process, the gravestone bearing the names of Rudolf and Ilse Hess was also taken away, leaving no physical record of the original burials.
In addition to the names and dates of the deceased being engraved, the original gravestone had also carried a quotation, recorded as being from an Ulrich von Hutten who, rather like Rudolf Hess, had performed one life-defining act. In his case he had chosen to attack the Archbishop of Trier in 1522 in order to advance the cause of the Lutherans. He failed and spent the rest of his life in exile on an island on Lake Zurich. Nearly 500 years later, the apparent comparison is obvious. Ulrich von Hutten had marked his endeavour with a motto, which started with the sentence, ‘Ich hab’s gewagt’. It was precisely these words that the Hess family had used on the Wunsiedel gravestone: ‘I have dared’.
The Hess family gravestone.
There is no doubt that Rudolf Hess had dared to fly solo one of the fastest aircraft in the world from Germany to Scotland in 1941. The type was normally flown by a pilot and navigator. No mean feat. There is also no doubt that Hess dared to leave his Führer, his family, his position and all he held dear. No mean sacrifice.
However, this book seeks to analyse the flight in further detail so as to ascertain the precise method by which it was achieved, its true motives and its methodology. We look to establish the nature of the flight and its character. Was it really the act of a madman, a ‘lone flyer’ or was it actually part of a predetermined, negotiated peace plan with a chance of success? Just exactly how much was ‘dared’? It is an analysis which then seeks to establish whether the comparison with von Hutten is really justified. Was Hess actually making a ‘flight for peace’ in 1941? Perhaps even a ‘von Hutten-like’ act of martyrdom? Or was it simply yet another cynical Nazi act of war?
The ghost of Rudolf Hess continues to attract many people, for almost the same number of reasons. As mentioned in the preface, Neo Nazis are apparently attracted to Rudolf Hess because of what they believe he continues to stand for. Those interested in legal history cite his treatment at Nuremberg; those studying psychiatry will have read with interest the records of his behaviour after his capture; and aviation enthusiasts will study the finer detail of his Messerschmitt Bf 110. His death in 1987 and the consequences thereof could be seen as the stuff of a murder mystery. His role and duties within the Nazi Party are fundamental to the history of that organisation and all that it meant to German history.
It is perhaps because of the many aspects of the affair that sensible academics have chosen to leave it well alone. It is far from a simple story. The publishing fiasco over The Hitler Diaries in 1983 has amply demonstrated what can happen to academics when they make mistakes. Furthermore, those authors seeking sensationalist material have made unearthing the truth much less simple. Any researcher has to discriminate between fact and speculation; the Hess affair now has masses of both. In the early post-war days, much of the work came from the families of the main protagonists, as each told their side of the story, largely to justify their relative’s actions, or, in the Hess family’s case, to try and influence a release.
We very much doubt that the family members then writing their side of the story knew all the details concerning the affair. Indeed, Ilse Hess even writes of the ‘Chinese Wall’ that was established within the Hess household, dividing work and family matters.1 While we doubt the veracity of this statement, it was however a start in explaining the sequence of events and we do not doubt their intentions or motives. Clearly the Hess family was working towards a release, whilst the Hamilton family was seeking to distance the 14th Duke of Hamilton and his brothers from the affair.
The basic historiographical timeline of the Hess affair can be summarised as follows:
10 May 1941 – Rudolf Hess parachutes from his Messerschmitt Bf 110 over Eaglesham, Scotland. He enters lifelong captivity.
12 July 1941 – An article is published in Liberty, a US magazine, claiming that Hess was lured to Britain by British Intelligence. The author is Johannes Steel, a German émigré with links to Russian Intelligence.
1943 – An article is published in American Mercury, a US magazine, claiming that Hess was lured to Britain by British Intelligence.2 The source remains anonymous to this day.
1947 – J.R. Rees writes The Case of Rudolf Hess.3 Whilst principally dealing with Hess’ post-1941 mental state, it somewhat oddly includes the first flight plan, supposedly drawn by Hess in 1941. It is this plan that most authors refer to and try to justify.
1954 – Ilse Hess writes Prisoner of Peace,4 translated into English by Meyrick Booth. This book uses extracts of letters from Rudolf Hess to his wife in order to give the reader an explanation of events. It certainly gives no answers to the major issues surrounding the flight, but does give some clues that will be explored in further detail later.
1962 – James Leasor writes Rudolf Hess: The Uninvited Envoy.5 Whilst the pretext for the title is still worthy of debate, the work is very useful as it draws on the experiences of many actually involved in the flight who were still alive at the time the book was being researched. We understand that James Leasor was a Daily Express journalist and, as such, Lord Beaverbrook, his employer, encouraged the book to be published. It introduces the connection between the Haushofer family and Rudolf Hess. While we challenge the conclusion, it is one of the first books to be written independently of the families involved.
1971 – James Douglas-Hamilton writes Motive for a Mission.6 This book deals in detail with the pre-war relationship between the Hamilton family and Albrecht Haushofer.
1973 – The 14th Duke of Hamilton dies on 30 March.
1976 – Derek Wood writes Attack Warning Red. This history of the Royal Observer Corps (ROC) includes a detailed plan of the Hess flight over Scotland.7 Subsequent to the disbandment of the ROC in 1995, much of the archive material on which this book drew has either been lost or destroyed.
1986 – Wolf Rüdiger Hess, then 48 years old, writes My Father, Rudolf Hess.8 This book seeks to justify the action of his father, then still alive in Spandau, Berlin. He questions the role of the British Secret Service and understandably asks that his 93-year-old father be released.
1987 – Rudolf Hess is found dead in Spandau prison on 17 August.
1992 – Douglas Hurd, the then foreign secretary, announces the release of two batches of Hess documents. In the main from the Foreign Office, they also included WO199/3288B from the War Office and DEFE 1/134 from the Ministry of Defence. Many of these papers deal with the treatment of Hess on arrival in Britain. Douglas Hurd also commented that he had kept at least one file back because it contained certain records which ‘still pose a risk to national security’.9 Interestingly, James Douglas-Hamilton writes that the files not released were withheld ‘for reasons which have nothing to do with the substance of the Hess case.’ How would James Douglas-Hamilton know this?
1994 – John McBlain produces Rudolf Hess: The British Conspiracy, which details the role of Mrs Roberts, the wartime intermediary between Albrecht Haushofer and the Duke of Hamilton. Mrs Roberts’ nephew was an important member of SO1, the wartime black propaganda department. This is further expanded upon in 1999 with Mei Trow in Hess: The British Conspiracy. This book also reveals the fact that Sikorski, the prime minister of the Polish government in exile, had landed at Prestwick on 11 May 1941.10
2001 – The book Double Standards is released.11 Whilst sensationalist in part, there was some good original research that once again brought the Hess affair to prominence, this time suggesting that Hess was to be met by the Duke of Kent at Dungavel.
On 24 October, Wolf Hess dies in Munich.
2010 – John Harris writes Rudolf Hess: The British Illusion of Peace,12 which details the role of Tancred Borenius, the Finnish art historian, in the affair. It also questions the role of the Duke of Hamilton and points out that the Hamilton family owned the site of RAF Prestwick. It also states that if Churchill were to be removed as part of any Anglo-German peace plan, constitutionally King George VI would have to be involved.
So, the debate has certainly moved on, albeit slowly. On 12 May 1941, the German government issued a press release explaining the fact that the Deputy Führer had flown to the enemy: ‘Party Member Hess had got hold of an aircraft and taken off against orders. As yet he had not returned. A letter that was left behind unfortunately showed signs of mental derangement which gives rise to fears that Party Member Hess was the victim of delusions.’13
In other words, Hess was insane. Hess had put this idea in his Führer’s mind in a letter hand delivered to Hitler by his adjutant, Karl-Heinz Pintsch, on 11 May 1941. This communiqué gave rise to the ‘lone flyer’ theory that seems to have lasted, unchallenged, until 1994, when the role of the British Secret Service was perhaps questioned for the first time, supported by some evidence, albeit far from definitive.
The British initially said nothing officially, but after the news had been broken in Scotland, Churchill finally authorised a response at 2300hrs on 13 May 1941. It said nothing apart from confirming it was Hess that had landed by parachute near Glasgow. The British government was petrified. All Churchill’s efforts at that time were focused on the prospect of US support, nothing else. If the isolationists in the US suspected that Britain was secretly attempting to entreat with Germany, his central foreign policy tenet lay in ruins. Churchill was unsure quite what to say – so he said nothing.
Apart from the article in Liberty and the unattributed article in American Mercury, the German explanation of 1941 seemed to be accepted. Hess was mad. He was losing favour with Hitler and flew to restore his prestige. Indeed, some still believe this to be the case.
However, in 1942 Winston Churchill, with US support now crystallised into an alliance, felt confident enough to answer a question on Hess in the House of Commons. The exchange is reproduced from Hansard below:
The Prime Minister: Surely the hon. Gentleman is not the man to be frightened of a Whip? The House of Commons, which is at present the most powerful representative Assembly in the world, must also—I am sure, will also—bear in mind the effect produced abroad by all its proceeding. We have also to remember how oddly foreigners view our country and its way of doing things. When Rudolf Hess flew over here some months ago he firmly believed that he had only to gain access to certain circles in this country for what he described as ‘the Churchill clique’.
Mr. Thorne (Plaistow): Where is he now?
The Prime Minister: Where he ought to be – to be thrown out of power and for a Government to be set up with which Hitler could negotiate a magnanimous peace. The only importance attaching to the opinions of Hess is the fact that he was fresh from the atmosphere of Hitler’s intimate table. But, sir, I can assure you that since I have been back in this country I have had anxious inquiries from a dozen countries, and reports of enemy propaganda in a score of countries, all turning upon the point whether His Majesty’s present Government is to be dismissed from power or not.
This, we believe, is the beginning of the conundrum. Who or what was going to remove the Churchill clique? It seems obvious to the authors that the reason Hess chose Scotland was because he intended to meet persons sympathetic to his cause (or so he may have thought). If he wished simply to broker a peace with the British government, then why fly at all? There were plenty of diplomatic channels through which this was possible; channels that had been used to near exhaustion both before and after September 1939.
No, Churchill has clearly stated why Hess flew – to gain access to the certain circles that could remove Churchill and his government from power. We shall examine how closely Hess came to achieving that goal, both physically and politically.
Churchill was not alone in his suspicions. Albert Speer, in his book Inside the Third Reich,14 said that Hess had flown with a peace plan: ‘That was the message he took to Britain – without managing to deliver it.’ We know that the Hess peace plan was certainly debated with the government, so to whom was it intended to be delivered?
Lieutenant Colonel Gibson Graham of the Royal Army Medical Corps (RAMC), who looked after Hess during most of May 1941, was quite clear on the matter:
[Hess was] … seeking the Duke of Hamilton and then the King in order to be on hand with peace proposals when a new government arose in this country. Why a new government should arise he could not say, but he seems convinced of this; nor did he know its composition. The present British Government would try and prevent peace proposals taking shape; moreover, his government would not deal with them, only their successors.
Hess was seeking the chivalry of the King.15
J.R. Rees concurs that Hess was seeking ‘the Duke of Hamilton, who would conduct him to King George VI. The British Government would be thrown out of office and a party desiring peace installed in its place.’16 Similarly, Anthony Eden, when later instructing Sir John Simon prior to his interrogation of Hess at Mytchett, wrote: ‘The man dreams of a change of government.’17 At Nuremberg, Hess told Maj. Kelley, the chief US Army psychiatrist: ‘Only he [Hess] could get the King or his representatives to meet with Hitler and make peace …’18
This would certainly explain why the flight was not to England. That would be flying straight into the hands of the British government. What is not so easy to decide is the motive of the receiving party. Did they really wish to make a peace, or was the whole affair an intelligence-based trick, as the articles published in the US magazines Liberty and American Mercury suggest? The two options are not necessarily mutually exclusive.
Indeed, did the reception party actually exist at all? Was the whole exercise just a ruse to buy time before Hitler invaded the Soviet Union and relieved the pressure on Britain? Given that Britain knew of Hitler’s plans through Ultra, this is also quite plausible.
It is through an analysis of the position of Britain and Germany in the spring of 1941 and the details of the flight that the authors hope to demonstrate it was an officially sanctioned peace mission by a Nazi government almost desperate for a western settlement: a Nazi government for whom the Deputy Führer would certainly be prepared to dare …
Before attempting to describe the various factors that may have influenced Hess to fly from Nazi Germany in May 1941 and the means by which he achieved the feat, it is important to challenge, or even lay to rest, once and for all, the myth that Rudolf Hess was mad, or delusional, as the official Nazi Party communiqué subsequently declared.1 This is important because if the Deputy Führer was insane, presumably logical, sensible decisions would prove beyond him and, consequently, it would be even more difficult to analyse and assess his true motives. If, however, Rudolf Hess was sane, we can feel confident to continue our analysis.
We have already recorded that the pre-flight myth that Hess was insane was self-instigated and, until Nuremberg, self-perpetuated. The letter he had allowed Karl-Heinz Pintsch, his adjutant, to deliver to Hitler at Obersalzburg on 11 May 1941 had supposedly included words to the effect of:‘If all else fails, simply say I had gone mad …’2 The fact that both copies of the document are not currently in the public domain may well be significant, but, we suspect, not as evidence of his supposed insanity. Alfred Rosenberg had met with Hess just prior to his flight3 and stated at Nuremberg: ‘Hess gave no evidence of any abnormality …’4
There is absolutely no evidence to suggest that Rudolf Hess was insane before he made his flight. Somewhat idiosyncratic, perhaps: but insane, no. He was quite capable of rational decision making. After his arrival, his demeanour may well have changed, but in this analysis we are attempting to ascertain if there is any evidence of insanity prior to 10 May 1941. The ‘madness’ alibi supposedly would cover why Hess chose to do what he did and allay any suspicions that the Russians might have that an Anglo-German peace was being jointly negotiated before an eastwards invasion was mounted.
The British have also helped perpetuate the myth that Hess was insane on arrival in May 1941. Shortly after his arrival, the Communist Party of Great Britain accused the Duke of Hamilton of assisting Hess in his mission. The duke, in order to defend his position, launched a legal action against Harry Pollitt, the party’s secretary, and threatened to call Hess as a witness in the action. The Public Records Office (PRO) file AIR19/5 deals with the matter. On 23 June 1941, David Margesson, the Secretary of State for War, wrote: ‘I will see that Hess is not permitted to appear as a witness …’ On 19 June 1941, the same file records a medical report: ‘Hess’s condition has deteriorated markedly … his mental condition has now declared itself as a true psychosis … the outlook is rather gloomy.’ Is this not an example of using mental instability as a means to avoid a court appearance, though in this case not instigated by the defendant? Is it any wonder the myth has been perpetuated? Both accuser and defendant have, in turn, used the same ploy: the British in 1941, Hess in 1946.
We are obviously not qualified to comment in an expert medical sense, but during the research we have completed, we found mention of stomach cramps from time to time, but certainly no major illness.5 A keen interest in homeopathy6 presumably does not indicate insanity, though it may well have been deemed unusual in 1938. An avid interest in aviation would suggest intellectual acuity, particularly the pre-war level at which Hess participated.7 In many ways, and certainly by comparison with his former colleagues, Hess could actually be seen to be reasonably well rounded. Well educated, a fluent French speaker, together with some English, he came from a comfortable (in English terms) upper middle class background. Certainly a very safe and secure background until the First World War destroyed the very foundations on which the Hess family had relied.8 He was not alone in Germany in sharing that fate. J.R. Rees relates how he was well thought of by his staff, and one secretary commented that: ‘He was so kind and noble that one felt obliged to be the same way as much as possible.’
Given their eventual collective fate, it could be argued that membership of the Nazi Party was an illogical act and therefore evidence of insanity. It is a poor argument. The German people were actively looking for a strong leadership with clear and simple principles in 1919/20. This does not make Hess and Hitler insane; political opportunists quite possibly, but insane, no. Once in power, Hess quickly became known as the ‘conscience of the party’. Compared to the more radical members of the party, Hess sometimes acted as a moderator, and these were times in which it was difficult to be a moderate. Richard Evans, in 2005, quotes Hess as offering to shoot members of the Brownshirts following an uprising by Ernst Röhm and his followers in 1934. J.R. Rees makes the same allegation. (By contrast, David Irving makes a convincing case that Hess actually tried to save some of those executed.)9 In 1935, Hess was party to and signed the Nuremberg Race Laws. He then proceeded on an individual basis to employ, protect and help Jews.10 Certainly there seems to be two sides to Hess: one the ardent Nazi, prepared to do literally anything for his Führer; the other, when off duty, the quiet, unassuming family man.
However, above all, the one inescapable fact is that Hess was loyal to Hitler. One of the earliest Nazi Party members, imprisoned with Hitler at Landsberg in 1923, Hess was unquestionably loyal and this loyalty never faded. Even at Nuremberg, when it was quite possible he might have been executed because of his former association, he declared: ‘I was permitted to work for many years of my life under the greatest son whom my people have brought forth … I do not regret anything.’
Clearly, there was no repentance. When John Harris met Wolf Hess in 1995, it was also clear that this feeling of justification had passed down the generations. Without trying to labour the point, we do not believe that what could be construed as making a terrible mistake is evidence of insanity.
In conclusion, it seems that his behaviour was wholly typical of the times in which he was thoroughly immersed. We see him as a spirited, adventurous individual, albeit with an intelligent, thoughtful, sensitive side, hailing from a wealthy family who had been deprived of their birthright by the British. Perhaps he was a reflection of the times in which he lived, looking to set the agenda, do something about it, perhaps even looking to avenge. We can find no mention of mental illness in the pre-war era, either in official or private documents.
In 1941, on his arrival in Scotland, Hess was medically examined by Lt Col Gibson Graham, Officer in Charge of the Medical Division at Drymen Military Hospital located in Buchanan Castle, Scotland, who concluded that: ‘… he did not strike me of unsound mind …’11 At Nuremberg, the three Russian medical professors, Krashnushkin, Sepp and Kurshakov stated: ‘Rudolf Hess, prior to his flight to England, did not suffer from any form of insanity …’12 J.R. Rees telephoned his report, dated 19 November 1945, to Nuremberg from London, stating: ‘At the moment he is not insane in the strict sense.’ The Americans and French wrote in confirmation: ‘Rudolf Hess is not insane at the present time in the strict sense of the word.’ They also made the interesting point that ‘the existing hysterical behaviour which the defendant reveals was initiated as a defence against the circumstances in which he found himself while in England.’ When Hess did not wish to speak or answer, the stock phrase of ‘I don’t remember’ was used to good effect.
In 1941 Hess had just completed a challenging aeronautical flight. Was the outcome really that likely if the aviator was of unsound mind?
We are not qualified to comment on the potential effect of the perception of massive personal failure, or on the use of drugs or their effects, or even the potential use of electroconvulsive therapy or a lobotomy. There have been various cases made that Rudolf Hess experienced one or even a combination of these – we will never know. What we do know is that Rudolf Hess was an extremely wily character whilst in captivity and would certainly lie when he thought it necessary or appropriate. At Nuremberg he was quite happy to cultivate the impression that he was mentally ill, until he chose to reveal to the court that his illness was a charade. This ability to ‘act’ was certainly used to good effect. An insanity plea was a powerful defence for when it was most needed and Hess was most vulnerable.
Hess was eventually adjudged sane to stand trial.13 While in Spandau, Hess showed a healthy interest in various matters; astronomy and the NASA space program in particular. Yes, he was moody and irritable, which reveals nothing. We can only conclude that Hess was rational and, consequently, we will judge him and his actions on that basis.
Before going on to analyse the various issues pertinent to the decision Hess made in May 1941, the authors would like to make the following observations. These are made without any recourse to historical evidence – just plain common sense.
Hess would not have flown merely to have discussions about peace. That process could have been facilitated in a much less dangerous fashion. If Hess wished to personally participate in such meetings, rather than perhaps utilise Albrecht Haushofer, a short visit and meeting in a neutral country would have been far more safe and sensible. Indeed, there is some evidence that Hess did attend just such a meeting in Madrid during April 1941.
Why Scotland? Was it chosen and targeted simply because Hess believed that by flying there he would meet parties who would help him achieve his aim? A flight to England, for example, would have been easier aeronautically, but he would not have been able to have independently met those parties who were, perhaps, to help him in achieving his goal.
There had been many peace proposals and attempts at peace between Germany and Great Britain since 3 September 1939. We will concentrate on just one: that beginning with the 31 August 1940 meeting between Karl Haushofer and Rudolf Hess. By May 1941 there had already been negotiations, in Sweden, Switzerland and in Spain. The groundwork had been done. Hess was not flying to add to the detail – that had already been agreed. He was flying in to seal the deal and his arrival was to demonstrate his commitment – at the highest level.
Hess had to have Hitler’s prior approval in a tangible form. There is no way that any British peace party would risk breaking cover if they were dealing with the second or third most important person in the Nazi Party. What if, on the return to Germany, Hitler or Göring had then dissented to the draft proposals? The choice of aircraft would also imply that a return flight was not anticipated, at least in the short term.
Hess was unsure of the outcome of Operation Barbarossa. Had he been sure of the outcome he would not have seen the need to neutralise the British. If he thought victory assured, why fly anywhere? Hitler and Hess were running out of time – Operation Barbarossa was about to be launched on 22 June 1941. They had previously stated that a war on two fronts was out of the question and that very prospect was less than a month and a half away. There was no more time to negotiate.
When discussing the Hess case, we often remind ourselves to use the principle of Occam’s Razor. The razor states that one should proceed to simpler theories until simplicity can be traded for greater explanatory power.
Since early 1938, Adolf Hitler had been the self-appointed head of the German Armed Forces. At the same time, in the wake of the Blomberg-Fritsch affair, Wilhelm Keitel was appointed as the malleable head of the Oberkommando der Wehrmacht (Supreme Command of the Armed Forces – OKW), Hitler’s successor to the previous Ministry of War. The appointment ensured that Hitler would get his way without effective protest; personal challenge or questions were not tolerated and Keitel rarely dissented. Albert Speer writes: ‘From an honourable, solidly respectable General he [Keitel] had developed in the course of years into a servile flatterer with all the wrong instincts.’14
The Night of the Long Knives and the treatment of Fritsch demonstrated what happened when the ‘Führerprinzip’ was questioned; one that would hardly encourage healthy debate before action. Quite possibly this is exactly how Hitler had succeeded to date, but what would happen when times became more difficult? The nominal leader of all German armed forces had no professional experience in strategy, or modern warfare, save for the bitter experiences of the trenches during the First World War. As Albert Speer belatedly stated: ‘Amateurishness was one of Hitler’s dominant traits.’15
Dangerously, in early 1941, and perhaps precisely because of his unconventional, untrained behaviour, Hitler was buoyed by success; there is no doubt that he had achieved outstanding military, political and diplomatic successes. From the Rhineland in 1936 through Austria, Czechoslovakia, Poland, Norway, the Low Countries, then to France in May 1940. In early 1941, he was as yet undefeated on the battlefield and was ready to take on his greatest challenge. He controlled a European coast from Northern Norway to the Spanish border, but had yet to face a determined enemy such as the Russians, who seemingly had scant regard for the lives of their soldiers. His tactics and success may have surprised his opponents so far, but was he becoming overconfident? We are not sure if Hess agreed with the Russian action; David Irving suggests that he did not.16 Were doubts as to Hitler’s military leadership in his mind?
Clearly, Hitler’s confidence was not without justification. In 1940, the much-vaunted French Army, numerically superior to the Wehrmacht, had been defeated in twenty-eight days. Much of the success to date had come from the modern strategy of Blitzkreig (Lightning War): a co-ordinated approach combining air power and fast-moving armour with infantry support. The equipment being manufactured obviously supported this tactic, with the Junkers Ju 87 ‘Stuka’ dive-bomber aircraft and Panzer (tank) units being all-conquering. The tactic had been very successful.
This was all very well while speed could be exploited. What Germany could not afford was to be dragged into a long, drawn-out struggle; they did not have either the resources or the appropriate equipment. In a long war, the Allies would have the time to ‘out-produce’ the Germans; they had overwhelming superiority in means of production and an empire of resources to draw from. Hitler knew this and he was also aware of the huge potential of the Russian arms industry and the danger of direct US involvement. It had to be a short war, which in itself created its own pressures.
Franz Halder, the German Chief of Staff, was in no doubt as to the importance of the Barbarossa decision, as it was, in his eyes, ‘based on the need to remove Britain’s last hope for continental support … Once this mission is completed, we will have a free hand, especially with air and naval arms, to bring Britain down finally.’ However, he continued: ‘If we … do not achieve rapid, decisive success, it is possible that the tension current in the occupied area may increase and allow Britain an intervention opportunity … The important issue is the sudden execution of the Barbarossa operation …’17
Not only did Operation Barbarossa have to succeed, it had to succeed rapidly. Without rapid German success, the Allies would have time to build their production capability and Germany would be drawn into a conflict it was not prepared for. They had already carried out the Blitz on Great Britain with inadequate aircraft types; an Avro Lancaster could carry 10 tons of bombs, the German medium bombers only 2–3 tons. Imagine the effect if the positions had been reversed.
There were already some doubts about the German production methodology. The Germans spread manufacturing across a great number of companies, such as Argus and BMW, and Junkers in the case of aero engines. All required their own logistical support and training. There were also myriad research projects into turbo-jet engines, rocket engines and unmanned aircraft. Were they simply too advanced and inquiring for their own good, and did the diversification render effective focus impossible? Were they already spreading themselves too thinly in technology terms? In 1940, only one year into the war, Göring had decided: ‘All other long-range programmes are to be examined again’18 – in part owing to a shortage of raw materials. The replacement and development of the early aircraft types was proving difficult. The new Messerschmitt Me 210, Me 410 and the Junkers Ju 188 were proving to be unreliable in trials, and they were not being produced with a protracted Russian campaign in mind.
Werner Baumbach summarised the weakness in this approach to production:19 ‘In the effort to meet all the demands of the forces, even the smallest special request was fulfilled and a very large number of small lines, with idiotic sub-division, were produced. Complete confusion took the place of rational order. Everyone made everything.’
It is highly unlikely that Hess chose to make his flight for the above reasons alone. However, it is possible that, in combination with concerns about military leadership and equipment, or the stated desire not to be drawn into a protracted conflict, real doubts had started to emerge about German invincibility. The consequences of defeat did not stand scrutiny. Hess knew this. If he was sure of German victory he would not have flown to Britain.
The role of the British blockade of Germany in the First World War is well known. Imposed at the start of that war, German imports by 1915 had fallen to 55 per cent of their pre-war level and exports to 53 per cent.20 Controversially perhaps, the blockade was not finally lifted until March 1919. The imposition of a similar blockade in 1939 is not so well known, but its impact was just as far-reaching.
Naval blockades and their effects were certainly not new, but were potentially controversial in legal terms. Indeed, there is evidence that Goebbels was investigating the legal position concerning the blockade, looking at what it might allow Germany to do in order to alleviate its impact. His diary, 26 February 1941: ‘Legal judgment: not only are we not duty-bound to feed the populations of the occupied territories, but we can even requisition provisions there. An important argument in the controversy over the blockade.’
It was not just the belligerent nations that were affected. Similarly, it was not just the military, of course. Women and children, young and old, rich and poor, all were affected to a greater or lesser degree. On 4 September 1939, Winston Churchill, then First Lord of the Admiralty, had instigated the British Naval Contraband Control system, according to which every merchant vessel entering British-controlled waters was subject to examination. Three European offices were established for the purpose: Weymouth, Kirkwall and Gibraltar. Essentially, the British had re-imposed the blockade of 1914–19.
Immediately, the Royal Navy went into action. British submarines were positioned off the Elbe and Jade estuaries, and others between Norway and the Shetland Islands. The Humber Force and Home Fleet mounted regular patrols off Norway, initially hoping to intercept the Bremen, flagship of the German merchant navy. They failed, the Bremen eventually berthing in Murmansk.
Between 3 and 28 September 1939, some 108 merchant ships were stopped, with 28 being being ordered to Kirkwall for inspection. On 10 September, whilst engaged on blockade duties off the Norwegian coast, the British submarine HMS Triton tragically torpedoed the submarine HMS Oxley in the first friendly fire incident of the war. Between 11 and 16 September 1939, the Royal Navy laid 3,000 mines off the Straits of Dover. From October 1940, the British naval force was joined by the former Polish submarines, Orzel and Wilk, both having broken out from the Baltic.
The German mobilisation and the stepping up of the economy were good for business; many countries complained about the disruption to their trade and were calling the British action illegal. The blockade was very effective, especially after the intensification of early 1940, and the complaints grew as almost any cargo could be seized for assisting the German war effort. The aggressive nature of this collective action should not be underestimated. In the First World War the blockade had brought Germany to her knees, with estimates of the resultant deaths of between 400,000 and 750,000. The privations of the ‘Turnip Winter’ (1916–17) are well recorded. Interestingly, in 1939 no public announcement was made, the Royal Navy just went ahead and imposed the blockade. Similarly, its instigator, Sir Frederick William Leith-Ross (1887–1967) is hardly known in Britain. We believe that Leith-Ross, in instigating the blockade, was responsible for an act of war as aggressive as sending the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) to France and one which would fundamentally limit Germany’s ability to wage war.
Germany had, of course, anticipated this course of action. Herman Göring was put in charge of the Vierjahresplan (Four Year Plan), devised to increase domestic production to meet the demands of war and reduce the dependence on imported goods. As time went on, this production failed to keep pace with demand and, increasingly, the plan assumed quotas of production from the eastern conquests. As Josef Goebbels recorded on 29 March 1941: ‘The Ukraine is a good grain-store. Once we are entrenched there, then we can hold out for a long time. With this, the Eastern and Balkan questions will finally be settled.’ On 1 May: ‘Meat is going to have to be cut by 100 grammes per week from 2 June. The Wehrmacht is too well off and is using up too much of the available ration. Per head, three times that allowed to the civilian population. We can hope to get by so far as bread is concerned, as long as there is no problem with the harvest … If we have to go through a third year at war, then we shall consume the last reserves of bread. But nevertheless we are better off than England in many respects. But our situation is by no means rosy. I now face the question of how I am to put this over to the public.’
The British declaration of war and the effective naval blockade left Germany’s industrial heartland in the Ruhr vulnerable to attack and potentially starved of raw materials. Hitler had to secure his borders to the west and break the British naval stranglehold. From 1938, the Westwall (Siegfried Line) fortifications were strengthened and defensive airfields were built nearby, but now circumstances demanded attack. Hitler drove over his neighbours to secure supplies and neutralise the chance of attack by Great Britain and France. In turn, he could then apply his own blockade against the supply lines across the Atlantic and neutralise the British threat.
When Mein Kampf was being written in Landsberg prison during 1923, the memory of the devastating effects of the Great War blockade was fresh in the minds of Hitler and Hess. If Germany were to go eastwards, no western blockade would be effective as the necessary raw materials could be obtained without any interference from British sea power. As Hitler told Carl Burckhardt in August 1939: ‘I need the Ukraine, so that no one is able to starve us again, like in the last war.’ Lizzie Collingham quotes Corni and Gies, ‘Lebensraum would make Germany truly self-sufficient and immune to blockade and this would eventually enable Germany to challenge British and American hegemony.’ The British geographer H.J. Mackinder, had realised this as far back as 1904, with his ‘Heartland’ theory.21
However, in May 1941 the invasion of Russia had yet to take place. Hess may well have been fearful of the consequences, but it is more likely that he would have been already mindful of the effects the British blockade was already having. Notwithstanding the effect on military production, there had already been a cut in the German bread ration by 600 grammes (g) in July 1940. In June 1941, the meat ration was cut by 400g. By 1944, a German civilian was eating 40 per cent less fat, 60 per cent less meat and 20 per cent less bread than in 1939.22 In addition, the blockade restricted the importation of nitrogen, an important component of artificial fertiliser, vital for increasing agricultural production.
Sure enough, to compensate, food was taken from the occupied countries and ordered from Germany’s allies, and as a consequence many in the donor countries starved. By early 1941 there were signs that food supply was becoming a serious problem. Foreign labour was being imported into Germany to work in factories and on farms; there were far more mouths to feed.
Herbert Backe, Walter Darre’s assistant at the Ministry of Agriculture was diligently calculating the effect on food demand should the planned invasion of the Soviet Union proceed. He had calmly reported that it would be likely that 4.2 million Slavs would have to starve if German troops and civilians were to be fed from the areas anticipated to be captured. It is very likely that Hess would have been aware of this eventuality.
It would therefore appear that the effect on raw materials and food when moving from a peaceful economy to a wartime one had not been fully appreciated, or more likely, the terrible consequences of such an action had been ignored and seen as a part of the strategy. Hitler’s plans assumed success and his continuing strategy relied on it. It does not take much for such plans to unravel. Did Hess and others have growing doubts about such strategy? Was the situation in Germany on a real knife-edge?
Some authors have theorised that Hess flew in an attempt to bring the war to an end so as to prevent the Holocaust23. They cite the fact that a German Foreign Office report had proposed Madagascar as a potential refuge, but then blamed Britain and France for the abandonment of the plan owing to their occupation of the island. The Gerhard Engel diaries quote Hitler considering Madagascar as a refuge in February 1941, but then states, ‘He [Hitler] had pondered on many other ideas which were not quite so nice.’24
We do not believe the above and suspect that Hess, the Deputy Führer, would have simply conformed to the party line. However, it is quite likely that Hess would be uncomfortable with the knowledge of the impending brutality that Hitler saw as part of the strategy to conquer the Russian homelands. At Nuremberg, Keitel and Jodl were condemned to death, in part for their acquiescence to the Kommandobefhl (Commando Order), which dealt with the establishment of German Army control in occupied Russia. The British prosecutor, G.D. Roberts, quoted from the order: ‘All resistance is [to be] punished, not by legal prosecution of the guilty, but by the occupation forces spreading such terror as is alone appropriate to eradicate every inclination to resist.’25 In other words, brutality was strategy. The order was directly conveyed through and to the army. As Laurence Rees writes: ‘An atmosphere was thus created in which appalling brutality was to be expected.’26
In March 1941, Himmler had told twelve SS-Gruppenführers that the purpose of the campaign was to reduce the indigenous population by some 30 million.27 Hess knew of these terrible plans through Rosenberg and Himmler. There are pictures of Hess and Himmler at a Volksdeutsche Mittlestelle (Ethnic German - VOMI) conference, dated March 1941, which dealt specifically with the resettlement of Germans in occupied areas. As the ‘conscience of the party’,28 did this knowledge weigh heavily on his shoulders? Hess had signed the 1935 Nuremberg Race Laws and during his trial at Nuremberg it was deemed likely that he was aware of the atrocities committed in Poland between 1939 and 1940. Were they a step too far?
As discussed above, it is generally accepted that Hess knew of the plan to invade Russia. It had been formally approved as policy on 18 December 1940, in Führer Directive 21. Originally it was timed to commence on 15 May 1941. This date would allow for anticipated progress before winter, and before the wet season and the impassable muddy roads. It would yield the vital 1941 harvest at a critical stage from June until September. If the Soviets got the chance to harvest the grain it would be quickly transported east, and anything they could not harvest or move could be easily destroyed by fire. If the harvest was lost, the conquered lands would yield little or nothing for a whole year.
Fall Barbarossa.
The planners set about their task moving vast armies of men and machinery eastwards. The British soon realised what was happening through Ultra intelligence and informed Stalin; being unsure, Stalin countered by moving some divisions westward, thus heightening German nervousness still further.
However, during the spring of 1941, the German Army was already engaged in the Balkans and this is the reason now accepted by most for the decision to delay the invasion until 22 June – thirty-eight days later. This delay was later to have profound consequences. (For a complete analysis of the reason for the delay, see Zitadelle by Mark Healy.)
Rudolf Hess would spend the winter of 1941 in Camp Z at Mytchett Place, a country house near Camberley, Surrey, England, so the progress of Operation Barbarossa was beyond his influence. Nine months earlier, in the spring of 1941, he was desperately concerned about the invasion. This was by far the greatest military project that Nazi Germany would undertake and it was almost a step into the dark. German intelligence was poor as to the size of Soviet military forces and, to an extent, there was no plan B. As we have seen, Hitler did not have the equipment for protracted war and knew it. The order demanded ‘einem schnellen feldzug’ (a quick field campaign). Given the timetable already in place, the need for a western peace was becoming critical.
Without wishing to state the obvious, the Second World War eventually became a race to build a usable nuclear bomb. Whichever side won the race would win the war and set the post-war agenda for the world.
In the spring of 1941, an independent analysis of the respective progress made by Germany on the one side and the Allies on the other would place the Germans as clear leaders in the race. Since the celebrated ‘radium-barium-mesothorium-fractionation’ experiment of December 1938, the German chemist, Otto Hahn, was at the forefront of research into nuclear fission. However, when dealing with pure chemistry, even of such international importance, Hahn’s next step had been to publish his findings in the magazine Naturwissenschaften (Natural Sciences) on 22 December 1938. The genie had escaped from the bottle.
By the spring of 1939, the race had begun in earnest. Two German scientists, Professor Harteck and Doctor Groth, had already written to the German War Office, referring to, ‘The newest development in nuclear physics, which, in our opinion, will probably make it possible to produce an explosive many orders of magnitude more powerful than the conventional ones …’ When war was declared in September 1939, Germany already had an office devoted to the military application of nuclear fission. The British had retaliated only by trying to buy as much uranium as was available on the world market.
By 1940, the Germans were experimenting with heavy water (2H2O or D2O) as a means of moderating a chain reaction in a pile with uranium. Given the newness of the initial discovery, rapid progress was being made. However, by the spring of 1941, no real prospect of a workable bomb yet existed. Hitler knew of the research work, as presumably did Hess. In the autumn of 1940, the Minister of the Post Office (whose department was funding some of the work) had personally told him of the possibilities of making a workable bomb.
Thereafter, there was a degree of bluff. The Allies knew that the Germans were making progress, but did not know precisely how much. They also knew that the Belgian uranium stockpiles had been taken during the May 1940 invasion and that production of heavy water had been increased at the Norsk Hydro plant in Rjuken, Norway. Churchill’s experts assured him that the Germans were not close to a bomb because technically they could not be, but no one knew for sure. If the Germans believed that they were close, did this underpin Hitler’s confidence in winning what was seen by many as an unwinnable war with Russia? We believe it significant that Hitler (and Hess) chose to play on this uncertainty. When Hitler attended the Reichstag on 4 May 1941, just six days before the Hess flight, he observed that ‘… the scourge of modern weapons of warfare, once they were brought into action, would inevitably ravage vast territories.’
As will be described later, when Hess was in captivity, if he wanted attention, he too would speak of the bomb. He knew the British would want to know the reality of German nuclear production. Hess knew that there was no German nuclear bomb and he may have wondered if there ever would be. Did he know that Hitler was not holding any aces?
In arriving at the decision to fly to Scotland, Hess must have considered the position of the enemy. If he concluded that he would have been shot on arrival then there would be little point in flying. On balance, he must have believed that the enemy was ready to consider peace. From a German perspective, the following factors must have come into play:
– The Germans had failed to gain air supremacy over Great Britain in 1940. Any invasion would, therefore, be a very bloody affair and the Germans knew it.
– Despite an almost nightly attack on the cities of Great Britain, the Blitz of 1940–41 had failed to bring the government to the negotiating table.
– There was little evidence of defeatism within the wider British population and what little had manifested itself had been effectively censored.
– Churchill had made little secret of his strategy, to hold out until the US entered the war. This was beginning to work with the Destroyers for Bases treaty of September 1940 and the Lend-Lease agreement being signed on 11 March 1941.
– Whilst most US citizens saw these two treaties as a way of support without involvement, they were clear demonstrations as to whose side the US was on, in her quest to be the ‘Arsenal of Democracy’. These treaties were well publicised and the Germans were certainly aware of their existence. The threat of a war with the US was looming ever larger. A war that rational Germans knew they could not win.
– A sizeable number of influential British politicians did not wish to side with the US and instead saw a European alliance against Communist Russia as a preferable option. But such politicians were not in power.
The problem facing Hess was two-fold in this respect. Firstly, to make sure his approach was to the correct part of the political establishment; secondly, to ensure that it was in a position to entreat. The Churchill government had consistently made its position clear and Hess had to make sure he was not dealing with them.
It is unlikely that any one of the factors listed above alone made Hess take off. But for the first time since the Nazi accession to power, he was unsure of the outcome of a Nazi act of aggression. The stakes were too high and Hess, it is argued, was seeking to ‘de-risk’ the action by neutralising Great Britain. Subsequent events proved that he was quite correct in his fears for the Ostfront, but in spring 1941 he was ignorant of the outcome of Operation Barbarossa; at the same time he knew of some of the means to be employed in the assault. Few knew just how much pressure the Hitler government was under and how risky was their situation. Gerhard Engel wrote on 18 December 1940: ‘I am convinced that the Führer still does not know what will happen. Distrustful of his own military leaders, uncertainty about Russian strength, disappointment over British stubbornness continue to preoccupy him.’29
That is why Hess felt he had to leave, pushed by his concerns over the perilous state of his country and his Führer, and influenced by the positive signs from across the English Channel that offered him the possibility of success.
Whereas in Germany, despite a number of solo assassination attempts, Hitler’s position was still unassailable, in democratic Great Britain the same cannot be said of Churchill. While he epitomised the spirit of resistance to the British people, there were many in Parliament and the wider governing classes who were questioning his defiant stance.
The military position is reasonably well known. Since Churchill assumed office on Friday 10 May 1940, the following key events had occurred:
– France and the Low Countries were lost in June 1940.
– Greece was lost in April 1941.
– Yugoslavia was lost in April 1941.
– Victories and losses in North Africa. Typically, victories against the Italians and losses against the Germans.
– Machinations designed to keep Spain and Turkey neutral.
– The victory in the Battle of Britain, which prevented or deferred the German invasion.
In short, Great Britain had lost all its main European allies and, realistically, would not be able to mount an invasion of Europe without significant foreign assistance. There were still British Empire troops to call upon from Australia, India and New Zealand, but the Empire was also coming under pressure in the Far East from an expansionist Japan, aided and abetted by Germany.
Night by night, the German Luftwaffe was proving Stanley Baldwin’s prediction that the bomber will always get through. Progressively, major industrial towns and ports were being attacked, and devastating damage was being inflicted. Air defences, whilst improving, were still seemingly unable to prevent what were essentially massacres by aerial bombardment. Press censorship was necessary to prevent the worst becoming common knowledge.
The story was similar at sea. German U-boat crews christened this time