Cardinal Eugenio Pacelli:
“I will continue my work with Adolf. I am convinced he is the one.”
Francesco Pacelli:
“Well done, Eugenio.”
Cardinal Eugenio Pacelli:
“Thank you, brother. You as well.”
Chapter 16
13 December 1919
Munich, Germany
In the confines of the cardinal’s library in Munich, a private meeting was taking place. Pacelli leaned forward, his voice a low murmur. “Adolf, your leadership skills have not gone unnoticed. They are truly remarkable.”
Hitler, standing tall and imposing, said, “Anton Drexler has been a great ally. His trust in me has led to my appointment as Party Speaker of the National Socialist German Workers’ Party.”
Pacelli nodded, his gaze steady on Hitler. “Your unwavering loyalty and adherence to directives have caught not only my attention but also that of my esteemed Council.”
Hitler’s eyes gleamed with a sense of accomplishment. “Your guidance has been instrumental. The transformation from the old German Workers’ Party to the NSDAP has given us a distinct identity. The unanimous acceptance of our new flag has elevated my status within our party.” He moved to take a seat in the cardinal’s library. The air was heavy with anticipation.
Pacelli said, “To make a global impact, you require a symbol that will instill terror in the hearts of the people. The Swastika on the Nazi flag will serve as that symbol.”
Hitler’s gaze bore into the cardinal. “The flag is indeed a sight to behold. Its blood-red background is a powerful symbol.”
The room fell silent as both men thought dark thoughts.
“To aid the continuance of your mission, I am assembling a formidable team of leaders for you.” Pacelli’s eyes gleamed with a fierce determination. “They will be your loyal subjects as we strive to restore Germany to its rightful place on the world stage. Are you with me?”
Hitler’s gaze, steady and resolute, bowed his head in deference. “You have my unyielding loyalty, Your Excellency.”
Pacelli continued, his voice a low, commanding rumble. “I am assigning you an aide-de-camp, a trusted confidant who will shadow every step of your ascension within the Third Reich, Adolf. Through him, I will relay my directives. Do you understand?”
“I understand, Your Excellency,” Hitler affirmed, his voice steady.
Pacelli extended a piece of paper towards him. “Here are the names of the individuals I am enlisting on your behalf.”
Hitler’s eyes scanned the paper. He read out the first name. “Rudolf Hess.”
“Hess will be our primary liaison. He will be the conduit through which I relay my directives. He will be your steadfast companion, always by your side throughout your rise to power.”
“Hermann Göring,” Hitler continued, his eyes flicking to the next name.
“Göring will be the commander of your Luftwaffe,” Pacelli declared, his voice unwavering.
“But the Treaty of Versailles forbids Germany from having an air fleet,” Hitler interjected.
“Göring will build the Luftwaffe in secret. The world does not need to be privy to the resurgence of the German Air Force,” Pacelli retorted, a sly smile playing on his lips.
“Heinrich Himmler,” Hitler said, moving on to the next name.
“Himmler will command your police force. The current SA are nothing more than rabble-rousers.” Pacelli’s voice dripped with disdain for the current Sturmabteilung Brownshirts. These stormtroopers were reckless, unfit to serve the grand vision of the Black Nobility. “Your leadership is far too crucial to be associated with those ruffians.”
“Reinhard Heydrich.”
“Heydrich will serve under Himmler and be tasked with rounding up any dissenters. Anyone who dares defy your mission will be rounded up and incarcerated. No exceptions.”
“This is an impressive roster, Your Excellency.”
“Only the finest for your rise to power within the Third Reich,” Pacelli concluded.
With a sense of profound confidence, Hitler carefully folded the letter and tucked it securely inside his shirt pocket as if it were a priceless artifact. This was no ordinary list—it was a meticulous roster of allies handpicked by the cardinal himself. It was far too valuable to be misplaced.
“Adolf.” Pacelli’s voice sliced through the silence, a stern command wrapped in a velvety tone. “There must never be any evidence of our private meetings. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Excellency,” Hitler responded, his voice echoing the solemnity of Pacelli’s.
“Commit those names on the list to memory, then destroy it,” Pacelli decreed. This would set a precedent the two men would continue throughout all their future communications, and would also become the unspoken rule for the entire Nazi Party: obliterate any and all incriminating evidence, no matter what.
With a nod of understanding, Hitler took out the list. His eyes scanned over the names one final time, etching each into memory. Then, ever the obedient soldier, he strode over to Pacelli’s grand oak desk, his hand reaching for the gold lighter adorned with an embossed cross. The lighter sparked to life with a flick of his thumb. He held the list to the flame and watched as it consumed the paper, reducing it to ashes that fell neatly into a metal trash can.
“Remember this, Adolf,” Pacelli’s said, his voice low and urgent. “Our communication must always remain a secret. Any leak could jeopardize your ascension to power. You wouldn’t want that to happen, would you?”
“No, Your Excellency,” Hitler replied, his voice firm.
