Free Bombing Hitler by Hellmut G. Haasis Page A

God to fulfill his historic mission as the Savior of Germany. So far, each encounter with danger had proved that the Führer stood under the protection of “Providence”—however one might want to interpret this term. Wherever Holiness was present, such mundane matters as security had no place—Providence would take care of things. The second myth was the Gestapo myth: the belief in a perfect police state. Not only the Germans, who were directly affected, but foreign observers as well assumed that the Gestapo  (Geheime Staatspolizei or “Secret State Police”) had created a seamless police state that was infallible, invincible, and omniscient. Even the St. Galler Tagblatt, a Swiss newspaper otherwise cautious in its use of Nazi sources, seemed to be taken in by the story that the assassin had gotten through “three armed Gestapo lines of defense.” At first, the thought of a time bomb occurred to no one.
    Security at the hall on the day of Hitler’s appearance was—as it had always been—the prerogative of the Alte Kämpfer. This led to rivalries with the police, but Hitler had already decided years before that at the Bürgerbräukeller the responsibility of the police ended at the hall entrance—inside he would be protected by his old comrades.
    The generally positive attitude toward the regime led the security apparatus to believe that such an assassination attempt would be unlikely. Hitler was not in any particular need of protection; he could remain relatively confident of the people’s support—at least as long as he did not lead them into a devastating defeat. Hitler himself, who fostered the legend that he could smell any danger of assassination, actually felt more threatened in the Bürgerbräukeller by the mineral water he consumed there among all the beer drinkers. The waitress who was assigned to his table was instructed to serve his companions their beer, while he had his own water which was brought along especially for this purpose. In the hall, the best personal protection was provided by the cheering crowd itself, Blutorden recipients, one and all. Even high-level officials of the Party, the government, or the Wehrmacht were admitted only if they had taken part in the Putsch of 1923 and had subsequently received the Blutorden from Hitler for their participation. Anyone not wearing the medal was brusquely denied admission at the door. After the war began, exceptions had to be made, and local dignitaries were admitted, in part so that the hall could be filled. Hitler declined to impose sanctions for the failure of his security forces that evening.
    During the night of the attack, Himmler offered a reward of 500,000 marks “for the capture of the perpetrators”; another 100,000 marks was added to this, ostensibly from private sources. For informants abroad, 100,000 marks in foreign currency was supposedly made available at the German embassies. The money remained unclaimed. Two customs officers in Konstanz had performed their duties correctly.
    Although Arthur Nebe was responsible for the Bürgerbräukeller Special Commission, he reported directly to Himmler, and Himmler assigned control of the investigation to the Gestapo’s Heinrich Müller. Thus from the very beginning, the dominance of the Kripo ordered by Hitler was undermined by the Gestapo. Before Nebe arrived at the Munich airport at 11:00 a.m. on November 9, Müller had called from Berlin at 10:00 a.m. and issued orders that he should be kept informed of developments by telephone. Müller was in fact in charge of the case; Nebe oversaw only the detailed work of the technical investigation assigned to him. So Müller, in the name of Himmler, immediately ordered the arrest of all employees of the Bürgerbräukeller.
    At first Hitler steered the investigation toward evidence that supposedly pointed at England, but Nebe knew from the first day that the