At Six Foot Four Inches Tall, Truman Smith Cut an Imposing Figure, and Possessed an Impressive Pedigree
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At six foot four inches tall, Truman Smith cut an imposing figure, and possessed an impressive pedigree. Smith's grandfather had served as a U.S. senator, and his father was a military officer who was killed in action in the Philippines in 1900. Young Smith was no slouch himself: he graduated from Yale in 1915, and might have become a history professor. But after he joined the New York National Guard, his regiment was called up for duty on the Mexican border in 1916. This ended his graduate studies and led him to a military career instead. He became a battalion commander in World War I, and earned a Silver Star. Smith was an avid student of German language and culture, and his expertise earned him postings to Germany during two of its most momentous periods. He first served as a political adviser to the U.S. Army in Coblenz in 1919, then served in the Berlin embassy from 1920 to 1924. About a decade later, he returned to Germany to work as a senior military attaché in the crucial run-up years to World War II—1935 to 1939. During Smith's first stint in Berlin, Adolf Hitler's name was just beginning to be heard around the country. Those were the early days of the Weimar Republic, a period of chronic political and economic unrest that offered plenty of opportunities for violent extremists on both the far right and far left. Hitler's National Socialist German Workers' Party was only one group of radicals among many others. That would change, of course. In Berlin, the American ambassador Alanson B. Houghton, an industrialist- turned-congressman-turned-diplomat, was deeply troubled by the turmoil in Germany and, in particular, by the political unrest in the southern part of the country. In the fall of 1922, there were rumblings that General Erich Ludendorff, who had led the German army in the later half of World War I, might be planning to topple the government and impose a right-wing dictatorship. After a brief exile following Germany's defeat, Ludendorff returned to Munich and took up with Hitler and other rabble- rousers. Against the backdrop of Benito Mussolini's ascent in Italy, Germany's political far right seemed on the rise. "Something is brewing in Bavaria and no one seems to know exactly what it is," Houghton wrote in his diary. To keep an eye on the situation, Houghton turned to his young assistant military attaché, Truman Smith. Smith would later point out that most foreign diplomats in Berlin at the time had written off the National Socialists as "being without significance," and described the party leader Adolf Hitler as an "uneducated madman." Houghton, in contrast, "seems to have had, even at this early date, a premonition that the movement and its leader might play an important role in the disturbed Germany of the early twenties." Ambassador Houghton and the embassy's military attaché, Smith's immediate superior, urged Smith to "try to make personal contact with Hitler himself and form an estimate of his character, personality, abilities, and weaknesses." Smith did just that. He was the first American diplomat to interview Hitler—and in the 1920s he wrote uncannily prescient reports about the future leader of Germany. What's more, during his second posting in Germany, Smith cleverly used Charles Lindbergh to obtain a firsthand look at the country's aviation capabilities, enabling him to produce a steady stream of largely accurate assessments of the Luftwaffe as well as Hitler's rapid military buildup in the late 1930s. However, the Roosevelt Administration, aware of the isolationist mood at home, paid little attention to Smith's reports. Some columnists and poli•ticians would even claim that Smith had been taken in by propaganda and thus exaggerated his accounts of Germany's strength. This might explain why Smith receives only passing mention in the major historical works about the prewar period—and was never adequately credited for his early warnings about the German juggernaut. Truman Smith arrived in Munich on November 15, 1922, and quickly met a diverse group of people, recording his discussions and impressions. The 29-year-old diplomat asked everyone about Hitler. Summarizing the views of Robert Murphy, the acting U.S. consul, Smith wrote: "Hitler thoroughly understands the Bavarian psychology. Whether he is big enough to take the lead in a German national movement is another question; probably not." General Friedrich Freiherr Kress von Kressenstein, the artillery commander of the German army's 7th Division, told Smith he hadn't met Hitler but had the impression that the man was "an oratorical genius." He added that "Hitler was not as radical as his speeches made him out," and that he was anti- Semitic in "a healthy sense" since he wanted to keep Jews out of government positions. Barring some mistake, Kress von Kressenstein told Smith, Hitler's movement had "a great future before it." Friedrich Trefz, chief editor of the newspaper Münchner Neueste Nachrichten (Munich Latest News), agreed. He told Smith that Hitler was a "marvelous speaker. None better." Trefz said that he'd gone to a National Socialist meeting and sat between a general and a Communist; both had attended out of curiosity, and afterward both signed up as party members. Trefz's conclusion: "The National Socialists present no immediate danger to the government. The ground is fertile, however, and the party will grow." Smith next ventured to the informal headquarters of the National Socialist German Workers' Party, at Georgenstrasse 42. There he met with Max Erwin von Scheubner-Richter, an early confidante of Hitler who claimed that the party had 35,000 members in Munich, 200,000 sympathizers, and a "militarily organized" underground armed with clubs and pistols. The American was then invited to watch Hitler review his paramilitary troops, the Brown Shirts. It was "a remarkable sight indeed," Smith noted. "Twelve hundred of the toughest roughnecks I have ever seen pass in review before Hitler at the goosestep under the old Reichflag wearing red armbands with Hakenkreuzen (swastikas)." The Nazi leader gave a short speech, vowing to defy anyone trying to stop the movement. "He then shouts, 'Death to the Jews' etc. and etc. There was frantic cheering. I never saw such a sight in my life." At 4 p.m. on Monday, November 21, Smith met Hitler at the party headquarters. The diplomat was startled by Hitler's quarters, which reminded him of a dreary back room of a New York tenement house. Smith's impressions that day, which he recorded in his notebook once he had returned to his room in the Hotel Marienbad, were right to the point. "A marvelous demagogue," he wrote. "I have rarely listened to such a logical and fanatical man. His power over the mob must be immense." Hitler's message was unequivocal: "Parliament and parliamentarianism must go. No one can govern with it in Germany today. Only a dictatorship can bring Germany to its feet." In a report he filed after returning to Berlin, Smith added this assessment: The question whether Hitler's National Socialists can play a role in Germany equivalent to the role of the Fascisti in Italy can still not be answered with any degree of certainty. In the limited area of Bavaria, south of the Danube, Hitler's success cannot be gainsaid…. It is believed that not only in Munich but in all Germany, there is a fertile field even among the factory workers for a national movement…. It seems hardly probable, furthermore, that with the results already achieved, there will be any lack of money for the propagation of the idea of a national dictatorship. These facts, coupled with the magnetism and oratorical ability of the National Socialist leader, speak for a rapid and consistent development of the German "Fascisti." The ensuing years confirmed Smith's observations. By the time he and his wife Katharine, known as Kay, returned to Berlin in 1935, Hitler was fully in command. They were immediately struck by how the capital had changed since the early 1920s. Berlin "was the same yet not the same," Kay wrote in her memoirs, which were never published and reside in the archives of the Hoover Institution. "The streets, the buildings were all as I had known them. But now no more shabby fronts and broken fences. All was clean, freshly painted…. The crowds well dressed, the people looking well nourished, energetic." But Kay Smith also detected "a certain tenseness" in the air, the product of a regime that was ready to target anyone. Unlike many of his counterparts in other embassies, Smith had no budget to pay for spies. What he did have was a long list of German contacts—officers he had met during his first tour in Germany and later when he was an instructor at the Infantry School at Fort Benning, Georgia, from 1928 to 1932. The assistant commandant of the Infantry School was George C. Marshall, then a lieutenant colonel, who treated Smith as an aide and translator when it came to dealing with visiting Germans. After the Nazis took power in 1933, they forbade any German officer from visiting the house of a foreigner unless he knew the foreigner previously. This meant most military attachés were effectively prevented from inviting German officers to their homes. But Smith was already well established in that circle: When he held a party upon the couple's return to Berlin, Kay Smith recalled that "the other attachés were dumbfounded to find so many German officers at our reception. They were green with envy and Truman became their prime target in their attempt to get news." By comparison, Kay noted, the British and the French, who relied heavily on paid spies, "were remarkably bare of contacts." Now a colonel, Smith worked obsessively to learn about the German military.