Hans Baur - I Was Hitlers Pilot The Memoirs of Hans Baur

B UT FOR THE war, Hans Baur writes at the opening of this memoir, I might have spent the rest of my life in an office. Born in southern Bavaria in the final years of the nineteenth century, Baur enjoyed an unremarkable youth growing up in Munich, until the outbreak of war in 1914 transformed his life irrevocably. For countless millions of others across Europe, the First World War marked a definite caesura: whether in the wanton slaughter of the battlefields, or the political and economic maelstrom that followed. But for Baur, the war gave him a skill and a career that he would otherwise never have possessed that of flying.

Serving as a pilot on the Western Front where, with six victories, he technically qualified as an ace Baur quickly showed a natural ability and understanding of the pilots art, not least in the fact that he survived the war, no mean feat in those early days of aerial combat. In the post-war years he rose swiftly, building a reputation for safety and punctuality, and was appointed as one of the first cadre of six pilots of the nascent Luft Hansa in 1926. He also earned a number of honours and accolades: piloting the debut of the Berlin Munich Rome route in 1931, for instance, and flying over one million kilometres for the airline.

Thus it was that Hans Baur came into contact with Adolf Hitler. During the election campaigns of 1932, in which the Nazis were expected to make significant gains, Hitler was persuaded that he needed more imaginative methods to reach his audience effectively and Baur was suggested as someone whose flying expertise could help him to campaign by air. Though such a step would be quite normal for any modern politician, it is worth mentioning that it was an extremely radical and innovative idea for the 1930s, when flying was still very much in its infancy and was seen by many as impossibly dangerous and exotic. Whereas his opponents would use radio or give set-piece speeches to the political and media elite, Hitler thus opted to make several grandstand speeches per night, travelling between engagements by air. It was not only a more efficient use of time, it was also a propaganda coup, marking him out with the German electorate as a thoroughly modern, forward-looking politician, ready to embrace new technology.

When the election campaigns of 1932 were successful for the Nazis, Hitler was duly persuaded of the political effectiveness of campaigning by air, not least because he had overcome his own concerns about the safety of air travel. So impressed was Hitler with Baurs proficiency, indeed, that he would never fly with another pilot. With that, Baur quickly became a fixture, and was appointed as Hitlers personal pilot in February 1933. Thus began a personal and professional relationship that would last until Hitlers death twelve years later in 1945. Baur a bluff, no-nonsense Bavarian would become one of Hitlers inner circle, one of his intimates, someone to whom the Fhrer regularly entrusted his life.

Baur, therefore, was in an unusual position within the Third Reich similar to that of Hitlers photographer Heinrich Hoffmann in that for all his closeness to Hitler, he was neither politically nor professionally entirely dependent upon him. His thoughts and observations might thus be considered relatively free of the complicating influences of politicking and naked ambition that could colour other accounts. Certainly Baur enjoyed the prestige that his role as Hitlers pilot brought him, and in these pages he clearly relishes the time he spent flying the most prominent men of the Reich and its Allies: Gring, Mussolini and King Boris III of Bulgaria foremost amongst them. It is telling, for instance, that the original German edition of this book was entitled Ich flog Mchtige der Erde (I Flew the Worlds Powerful).

Baur was also an eye-witness to many of the seminal moments in the history of the Third Reich, including the Night of the Long Knives in June 1934, Ribbentrops historic flight to Moscow in 1939 to conclude the Nazi Soviet Pact and the fevered aftermath of Hesss flight to Britain in May 1941. On one level, then, his memoir can be read simply as an engaging chronicle of those tumultuous years, albeit observed by one who was very close to the epicentre of Nazi power. On another level, it is a portrait of the workings of that inner circle: the characters and the petty rivalries that made up the Third Reich as seen from within.

There are a number of highlights. One, certainly, is a passing reference that Baur makes which would have profound consequences and spawn one of the most famous controversies of the twentieth century. On page 177, Baur notes that, whilst Hitlers effects were being evacuated from the Reich Chancellery in April 1945, one of the aircraft used for the purpose failed to arrive at its destination in southern Germany and was presumed crashed. When this loss was reported to Hitler, he was very upset, stating that extremely valuable documents were aboard the plane, which would show posterity the truth of [his] actions. That single reference, extrapolated and exploited by a later generation hungry for Hitleriana, would provide the factual seed for the Hitler Diaries forgeries of the early 1980s.

Another highlight is Baurs dramatic account of his escape from Hitlers bunker at the end of the war: creeping with Bormann, Stumpfegger and others through the Berlin underground system in a vain attempt to evade the closing Soviet forces. The passage is also notable as it is one of the very few eye-witness accounts (along with those of Artur Axmann and Heinz Linge) that relate to Martin Bormanns fate, which until comparatively recently was still shrouded in mystery.