Two days with Himmler
Interview with Léon Degrelle, leader of Belgian Rexism.
How did Himmler receive you?
Himmler was waiting for me at the foot of the carriage. He hugged me. It was surprising after
the long fight he had had with General Berger, his most important collaborator.
“My dear Degrelle…” he tells me smiling, “…everything is forgotten.”
I smile, clearly less than he does: “What is it that you have forgotten, Reichsführer?”
Rather bewildered, he explains: “Ah! That you were against us during
Belgian neutrality.”
It is up to me to explain: “I was neither against you nor for you. I
was neutral. My people's interest was to stay out of the war. I had no duties.
more than for him. Therefore, there is nothing to forget.”
“Good, good…” he nods, “All right; you’re joining the Waffen-SS.”
I feel like I'm going to explode: "Not at all, Reichsführer. We are not joining the
Waffen-SS. Where did that story come from? I had ten meetings with General Berger.
days of tense conversation. Look, there it is, ask him. The conversation failed
completely and even got angry. We cannot enter blindly into the
Waffen-SS. Such a decision must be weighed and balanced.”
Then, suddenly, I had a happy thought. I looked Himmler straight in the eyes:
“Reichsführer, you don't know my soldiers. Why don't you come and see them? They're
formidable guys.”
Himmler was surprised. “Well, yes; it is a good idea, after all. Berger, do I have
Free time this week? Tomorrow? You say yes? Understood. We'll split this
evening."
The positions had already changed completely. It was I who was taking Himmler to
the rump.
After these exchanges of impressions we went to lunch. They had been invited once
twenty generals, evidently to impress the poor Belgian visitor.
Himmler had even invited Bormann. That's how I met him. He wasn't at all
the super-important man who has been described to the masses after the war. More
He was the discreet assistant, with the appearance of a bartender. He was not at all the referee that
had the future of the world at his disposal.
How to position myself at the table? I immediately sat down on Himmler's right,
to make it clear to all those generals that I was a political leader, and
that it was more important to be the spokesperson for a country than to wear gold medals. The military
They must serve the politics of a people and not command it.
At six or seven in the evening we boarded the train.
How did that trip go?
Himmler's special train, like Hitler's, in which I was going to ride later
once across Europe, was a whole world: large conference hall,
dining room, bedrooms, secretarial room, radio room, stenography room,
telephones, kitchens, staff dormitories. You could call anywhere in the
Europe.
In this atmosphere I unexpectedly found myself face to face with Himmler, the number
two of the Third Reich. I would be with him for a good number of hours, since we had to
travel through East Prussia and all of Poland before reaching our camp.
We moved to the large conference table. The fight was about to begin. The man who
I had in front of me, I barely knew him, because it was the first time in my life that he saw me with
He had known Hitler personally since 1936, but Himmler, whom he truly knew
Our fate depended on him at that moment, he was, deep down, a stranger to me. And
an unknown of fearsome power, since the Waffen-SS of the front - which does not exist
to be confused with the thousands of SS police who guarded the camps
concentration -, these Waffen-SS, were acquiring gigantic proportions and
were to become the true driving force of the new Germany or, more exactly, of
the new Europe.
Himmler was a man who looked rather haggard. He had small eyes and
blinking, nearsighted. Thin cheeks. Pale nose. It wasn't exactly a
model of a strongman. One wondered what was going on behind his glasses. Accompanied
By the fat General Berger - mute as a frozen mammoth -, Himmler was there,
right in front of me, pleasant and fearsome.
I was going to play it to the fullest. Because in life you have to play it to the fullest. You have to know what
you want it; if not, it's not worth it. Now, what I wanted was, obviously,
contrary to what the Bergers and company wanted, who tried to get the thousands of
Belgian volunteers were to pass unconditionally under the orders of an SS commander,
like the other units of the European Waffen-SS, and just like the legion
Flemish, incorporated in August 1941.
Can you tell us more about the negotiations you had with Himmler?
The big discussion started immediately.
Both Hitler, who was kept up to date by telephone, and Himmler, who was planted
before me and all smiles, was going to immediately present our proposals, which in
reality were conditions.
For me one thing was clear: we, the Belgian fighters on the Eastern Front,
we considered ourselves representatives of our people. And in that I knew I was in the
exact line of Hitlerian doctrine. In Hitler's conception of political power, the
The basis of everything was the people. Not the parties. Not the banks. Not the small
combinations. But the great carnal reality that is the people. Consequently, when
I won the game, Hitler agreed with me to such an extent that he recognized me as
Volksführer, that is, leader of the people.
So, without any vain beating around the bush, I told Himmler what I would later say personally to him.
Hitler, and he would repeat to the Germans until the moment when everything was put in order:
"As long as our people are not integrated into the European community as a people
equal and free, we cannot make concessions, and we must close ranks without giving in
nothing of what we are.”
This was something tremendous. How did Himmler react?
Himmler began by saying that it was obviously necessary that, as in all
units of the Waffen-SS, we had a German command.
“Impossible, at least for the moment,” I replied. “When the people of my village exercise command duties in the large German military units, when two or three
Governors from my people lead German provinces that have been converted into
European, when ministers from my popular community have in their hands
one or two ministries of a united Europe, then we will be able to talk, and with the greatest
pleasure, of interdependence, of rapport, and not of domination. But as long as we do not
when we get there we cannot allow ourselves to be absorbed without formal guarantees and we must
preserve the personality of our people intact.”
“That we have an interest in protecting ourselves…”, I added, “…firmly maintaining certain
prerogatives, there is nothing hurtful about it. Politics is not sentimentality. Yours,
no more than ours. As politically the fate of our people is not yet
resolved, we can only consider a team action with the Waffen-SS if
We retain, first of all, our command, an indispensable condition, and, secondly,
place, that our language continues to be that of our unity, because language is the
number one element of self-defense of any people.”
Didn't you want the German language in your unit?
“You…” I said to Himmler, “…have imposed the German language on the units
Flemish. This is a mistake, since the Flemish language is part of the personality of the
Flemish people. For us, who are French-speaking Germans, our
characteristic is precisely that we are French speaking, and in this it is not possible
compromise. And I even say that I have gone so far as to allow anyone to compromise for now.
use of the German language in our unit.
After that, we'll see. All Europeans will undoubtedly one day know German,
second language has become a general bond of unity. Meanwhile, our own
Language is a defense. In the Europe that is about to be built, we must protect ourselves.
Without our language you would probably sink us.”
Practically, how did you expect to get a French-speaking unit into the
military device of the Third Reich, commanded in German?
It is a fact that I never admitted German officers in any command post in the
within our Walloon units, not even in the most modest positions. Never
We had German collaborators, except for technical functions and liaison services.
Not a single German ever commanded a single company among us. And even those
Germans who acted as specialists always had to speak to me in French and
call me Chef. It would be me who would receive promotions and medals when I arrived
division commander in chief. It was even a bit strange: Germans receiving stripes
and decorations from his country only if a Walloon awarded them to him.
To that extent did Hitler accept the idea of equality of all within a
Common Europe.
There was not the slightest bit of vanity on our part in that behavior:
We were excellent comrades to the German military who were on duty with
us; but it was quite clear that our legion was in all our fief, and in the
command we had to have prerogatives equal to those of any commander in chief
German.
I explained my point of view to Himmler for several hours, politely but with
firmness. I have always said everything firmly, because giving compliments is useless. You have to explain clearly and frankly what you think, and, from time to time,
when, with a wink, a kind word or a joke that makes you laugh, you calm and
resolve the matter.
How did Himmler react?
Calmly. And even kindly. As the discussion continued, I was
obtaining, stage by stage, three capital concessions: we would have our own
command, we would keep our language and continue with our national flags.
The flag was also a symbol for us. Giving in on the flag would have been
give in morally on many other things. We carried a flag to the Russian front
which dates back to the most remote part of our history: the splendid red banner and
white of the Cross of Burgundy - with the gnarled staffs of St. Andrew - that our
The great dukes of the West, from the Middle Ages onwards, had waved from
Friesland and Zeeland to Artois and Franche-Comté. Charles the Bold had brandished it
in his tragic battles against Louis XI, in Switzerland and in Alsace. Our flags of
Burgundians had led the peoples of the Greater Netherlands for centuries.
They had crossed the Pyrenees to be adopted by the Spain of Charles V. They had
crossed the oceans with it to fly in twenty countries in America and Asia. That
flag, for us, was sacred.
On the other hand, we had given it the colors - black, yellow and red - of Belgium
castrated in 1830, that which we wanted to at least save, and to the extent of all our
strength and our dreams, to magnify and glorify.
I got this too.
And then I said to Himmler: “Obviously, we will keep our chaplain.”
This must have traumatized him.
It was certainly shocking. A Catholic chaplain in the Waffen-SS would never have
imagined.
“Listen…” I say to the Reichsführer, “…we have had with us at the front
magnificent priests. They have been our companions and our moral support in the midst
of the worst battles. How could you pretend then, soldier and leader, that
Let's put such a brave comrade in the street, just when we are going to
“join the Waffen-SS?”
That argument was decisive. One soldier couldn't kick another soldier out. He had won.
the battle of the priests.
We couldn't give in on this point either. Not that I was clerical. I still
The bumps from the blows the Primate of Belgium gave me in 1937 hurt.
But our people were religious and did not want to suffer any pressure in that regard.
I convinced Himmler to such an extent that not only did we have our priests, but
Subsequently, other priests were Catholic chaplains in other units of the
Waffen-SS.
The most famous of them was Monsignor Mayol de Lupé, of the French division of the
Waffen-SS, a prelate who was both truculent and extremely courteous. With a complexion as scarlet as
of a canon of Burgundy, and the cheerful and exuberant face, would have decorated
splendidly the Book of Hours of a Flemish primitive. Reverse on its mount,
He roamed the steppe tirelessly. Like Peter the Hermit, he was ready to embrace the infidels, but also to smash their skulls with crucifixes if necessary. He was, in
the eastern front the most picturesque officer of the Charlemagne Division. If we had
cattle would have made a magnificent cardinal of Paris. Very different from the democrats
prelates of today, always ready to lean against the sun that warms the most, and to embrace
with the rabbi across the street.
I never asked our Walloon chaplains to be Rexist. On the contrary, I
He said: "Whether they are Rexist or not, it matters little; their work is in the souls and not in the
political opinions, voting ballots or union demands. I just want to
our ranks priests saints.”
It was thus, with Himmler's agreement, that the Holy Catholic, Apostolic and
Roman entered the baptismal waters of the Waffen-SS in 1943.
How did your evening interview end?
The matter of the priests was a piece of cake, like the others. Our debate lasted something like this.
about seven or eight hours. He had obtained the consent of Hitler and Himmler to everything
what I had been demanding for weeks in Berlin and was always denied. And all this in
presence of Berger himself, with his tongue stuck out as if he had swallowed a barrel
rubber. He didn't move his jaws all night. When he finished, Himmler was
enthusiastic. He ordered French champagne to be brought in. A toast was raised to the glory of our unity.
At three in the morning we said goodbye.
We separate, but not to sleep. At least not for me. I then head to the sleeper car.
Himmler's secretaries. There were some very pretty ones. I knock on the door. A woman appears.
young Gretchen, disheveled, very blonde and in a nightgown: “Miss, please get dressed,
"Let's go to work." From three to seven in the morning, helped by my translator, who also
He went to sleep, I dictated the full text of the interview in French and German.
Were you still suspicious?
A sparrow in the hand is worth ten inaccessible eagles. I remained cautious. The train
had been rolling for the rest of the night. At seven thirty we had breakfast. Greetings to
Himmler and I present my sheets to him: “I believe, Reichsführer, that the simplest thing, so that
everything is very clear, it is to see if what we talked about we have understood exactly
the same way. To that end, I have transcribed our conversation.”
“Haven’t you slept?”
“Night, dear Reichsführer, is also for work. Do you have the
"Would you be kind enough to read this text? Is that what we agreed on?"
He was nervous. He blurted out a “Yes, yes!” between his teeth. It was obviously not what he had expected.
ability had thought. He thought perhaps that after that conversation, and above all his
promises, would be diluted in the fog of the imprecise.
He put on his glasses and read my text, repeating his “Yes, yes, that’s it. It’s fine like that.”
“In that case…” I then whispered, “…since I had the text typed in double
copy, the most practical thing is that we sign it and keep a copy each.
"That way there won't be any arguments later." I coax him into handing him my fountain pen. He
He rather grumbles and accepts. Boom! And he writes twice, in his small paw print.
fly, the signature of “Himmler, Himmler.” I, in two seconds, place two large
“Léon Degrelle.”
I had my letter. A letter I would use until the end.
Thus we entered the Waffen-SS with well-established rights, in writing and
signed by Himmler himself, which guaranteed us a position of strength to
always.
Later, this precaution was revealed to be necessary.
I received from Himmler, as a supplement, other considerable favors. Our
regulation would immediately be transformed into a motorized assault brigade.
We were thus to become a powerful shock unit within the Waffen-SS.
I also got our commanding officer, Lucien Lippert, number one in the school
Belgian military man, a perfect tactician and a splendid hero, remained our leader and
rose to the next higher rank, that is, to that of SS-Sturmbannführer of the SS.
As an additional precautionary measure, and given that the telephones on the special train
They allowed me to call anyone, anywhere, during the night I talked on the phone
with Lucien Lippert. I said in a low voice: "I'm going with Himmler. Be on the platform at the
Meseritz station. We'll arrive there around eleven in the morning. I'd like to introduce you to
personally to the Reichsführer before he goes to inspect our soldiers.”
On the other hand, at breakfast I said to Himmler, as if it were something very natural:
“Our commander-in-chief will go to the station to wait for us. Wouldn't it be simpler
that we eat together on the train? We'll go to the camp right away. That way you'll have
opportunity to see Lippert calmly and judge him. Lippert is from Arlon, therefore, from
German language, and you will really like it.”
And did your little plan work?
At eleven o'clock Lippert was on the platform, impeccable, strong and blond like a hero.
Germanic. At the end of lunch I had Himmler personally appoint him
SS-Sturmbannführer and confirmed him as head of our new brigade. Once
Once all this was sorted and secured, we set off for camp. All of our
The boys were magnificently lined up. Our officers shone like
mirrors.
But I wanted to have ultimate success with our chaplain. Not because he was a priest, but because
It was a symbolic matter, since it had forced Himmler to do what he had never
would have liked to do. Himmler passed by, greeted and shook hands
ceremoniously the officers one after another. Arriving before a good-natured commander,
quite thick, I presented it to him in a stentorian voice: “The Catholic chaplain of the
SS-Sturmbrigade Wallonia!” Himmler greeted him with a resounding “Mr. Priest!” In the
same moment, click!, two shots from one photographer.
Himmler turns away, stunned. “But, my dear Degrelle, what are these photos for?”
And I answer him, with the kindest of smiles: "Well, for L'Osservatore
Roman. Reichsführer!”
A burst of general laughter. That little girl had also won with good humor.
battle.
And what did Himmler say about his political projects?
During all those hours of night conversation I was able to comfortably explain my
political projects to the great supreme commander of the Waffen-SS. Having Himmler during
Hours spent a meter away from me allowed me to get a precise idea of the character. Everything I explained to him about my grand plan for the West, Himmler listened to at first rather with surprise, then with interest, and finally gave his consent. On the other hand, the myth
Burgundian dated back to the depths of Germanic legends.
My plan didn't harm France in any way. At that moment, what mattered was that
Someone from the West would establish a firm foothold on that European lever. That it would be a
Gascon, one from Touraine, or like me, a Walloon of French blood, was exactly what
same. The essential thing was that someone from the West achieved a position of strength.
I reached this political position to such an extent that Himmler gave his
written assent, agreeing with everything I explained to him. Himmler
- in agreement with Hitler - recognized that, after the war, a great State would be created
called Burgundy, which would have its own army, its own finances, its own
diplomacy and even its currency and postal services, and of which I would be the first
Chancellor. It even established, something I never thought of, that we would have a
wide corridor to the Mediterranean.
That text did not fall into a vacuum. It was published. One of the former assistants of
Himmler, Dr. Kersten, revealed it in his book I was Himmler's confidant, in his
exact content, two years after the hostilities. The Figaro of Paris reproduced the
text, as far as I am concerned, on May 21, 1947, on the first and third pages,
commented by Ambassador André Francois-Poncet, the first French specialist in the
Third Reich. The Figaro, with these texts by Himmler and Francois Poncet, also included the
corresponding map.
“The world…”, Himmler declared, “…will see the rebirth of old Burgundy, that
country that was the center of science and the arts." And he specified: "It will be a State
model, whose form will be admired and copied by all countries.”
Francois Poncet analyzed these important references in the same Figaro,
As he says, to that “Burgundy State, pampered and erected as a model State.”
The diplomat and academic concludes regarding such statements: “They are of a
certain authenticity.”
Himmler's forecast, provided by Kersten, is also authentic: "I think that
Degrelle, the leader of the Belgian Rexists, will be the first chancellor of Burgundy.”
And what did France mean in all this?
I will add in all honesty that this struggle to reconstitute the old Burgundian bastion
It was, above all, on my part, a demonstration of strength. I had provided proof
that he could make the Germans accept a plan that completely changed their
old projects or prejudices. Beyond, and above, Burgundy, which was a stage
Above all, the morale of my offensive, I wanted the entire West to straighten out,
restored in its unity, its power and its millennial personality.
It was not about diminishing France, but about getting out, all together, from the quagmire of 1940.
and to reach, by putting their shoulders to the wheel, greater splendor. From Marseille to
Antwerp, from Seville to Nijmegen, whether we liked it or not, we all had to show solidarity.
We would only count within a united Europe if we became a united Europe again.
Everything. Hitler and Himmler's decision to accept my Burgundian plan was the pedestal
upon which the magnificent statue of the West could be raised again, whole and
renewed, and hard as Roman marble.
Without that full resurrection, French or not, we would have been just scattered.
subordinates at the mercy of the decisions of a dominant giant.
For us, Burgundians meant: Westerners opening the first breach.
And I acted as a pickaxe, opening the way.
"Since the political fate of our people is still unresolved, we can only consider team action with the Waffen-SS if we retain, first, our command, which is an indispensable condition, and, second, that our language remains the language of our unity, because language is the number one element of self-defense for any people.
(Léon Degrelle)
