On this day, XXXIV ANNÓ LVPI, Adolf Hitler and the nascent NSDAP made their move to seize the reins of the Bavarian state and begin the long and hard Struggle for Greater Germany in earnest.
I say “long and hard Struggle”, because that is exactly what these determined men knew it would be. They held no illusions that Victory would be easy; they held no illusions that one lone victory would be enough, or that they would rest upon their laurels having won the epoch in one dramatic swoop.
This is not to say that they flinched foreseeing failure, or that they gave up because it would be difficult – NO, Readers, battles are Won through fearless risk under a Leader’s judgment, gaining as many single victories as can be successfully consolidated afterward. But Wars, Readers, are Won through iron grit and adamant Will in between the frightening but also comforting gambles of explicit battle. Because what lies in between explicit battles – is the implicit fulcrum of Victory in War.
So it was not the end when the Immortal Sixteen became the first to die under the swastika banner. It was not the end when this symbolic opening volley was met with a withering leaden hail from the treacherous servitors of the Judaically compromised government. It was not even the end when, all others slain or scattered, Our Führer seemed to end his Mission with a sentence of prison!
From the blood shed by goodgoyim enforcing the Enemy’s law, a sacred banner was consecrated. From this sacred banner was transmitted spiritual power to each banner of each military unit that proudly marched in the Sixteen’s steps, because Hitler knew that the Struggle was far from over.
An insight stated most poignantly, I am convinced, in the quiet impact of each yearly commemoration’s culminating ceremony.
The awe and grandeur of the marching and singing down folk-lined thoroughfares has brought the ritual’s core participants to the heart of it all. At the Ehrentempel, the imposing sarcophagi lie silent but not uncommunicative, golden swastikas gleaming above the hallowed remains of the first to fall under that sign’s banner. Other, younger, kindred banners snap crisply in the chill autumn wind, as the constant SS honour guard lower them in reverence.
From the ranks of the Blutorden, the Old Guard of that first “defeat”, Hitler steps slowly forward. In the stillness of rapt attention and misty breath, the Führer’s every step forward can be heard as a solemn wreath is placed. From off to one side, a voice calls out, and it is a roll call. One by one, the names of the fallen, and from the other side – an Answer!
It is from the assembled ranks of the Hitler Youth that the call comes in answer. To each name of a fallen hero, a young but strong voice from the formation of the Future gives the stirring answer:
And all the while, behind all the commotion, the Ehrentempel’s cryptic carvings bear silent witness with their words carved into heart and stone.