Rudolf Hess And Germany S Reluctant War 1939 41

On 10 May 1941, on a whim, Hitler's deputy Rudolf Hess flew a Messerschmitt Bf 110 to Scotland in a bizarre effort to make peace with Britain; Göring sent fighters to stop him but he was long gone. Imprisoned and tried at Nuremberg, he would die by his own hand in 1987, aged 93. That's the accepted explanation. Ever since, conspiracy theories have swirled around the famous mission. How strong were Hess's connections with the British establishment, including royalty? Was the death of the king's brother, the Duke of Kent, associated with the Hess overture for peace? In the many books written about Hess, one obvious line of enquiry has been overlooked, until now: an analysis of the flight itself – the flight plan, equipment, data sheets, navigation system. Through their long investigation, authors John Harris and Richard Wilbourn have come to a startling conclusion: whilst the flight itself has been well recorded, the target destination has remained hidden. The implications are far reaching and lend credence to the theory that the British establishment has hidden the truth of the full extent of British/Nazi communications, in part to spare the reputations of senior members of the Royal Family. Using original photography, documentation and diagrams, Rudolf Hess sheds light on one of the most intriguing stories of the Second World War.

"First published in Great Britain by Allen Lane."--Title page verso

Lisbon had a pivotal role in the history of World War II, though not a gun was fired there. The only European city in which both the Allies and the Axis power operated openly, it was temporary home to much of Europe's exiled royalty, over one million refugees seeking passage to the U.S., and a host of spies, secret police, captains of industry, bankers, prominent Jews, writers and artists, escaped POWs, and black marketeers. An operations officer writing in 1944 described the daily scene at Lisbon's airport as being like the movie “Casablanca,” times twenty. In this riveting narrative, renowned historian Neill Lochery draws on his relationships with high-level Portuguese contacts, access to records recently uncovered from Portuguese secret police and banking archives, and other unpublished documents to offer a revelatory portrait of the War's back stage. And he tells the story of how Portugal, a relatively poor European country trying frantically to remain neutral amidst extraordinary pressures, survived the war not only physically intact but significantly wealthier. The country's emergence as a prosperous European Union nation would be financed in part, it turns out, by a cache of Nazi gold.

Annually published since 1930, the International bibliography of Historical Sciences (IBOHS) is an international bibliography of the most important historical monographs and periodical articles published throughout the world, which deal with history from the earliest to the most recent times. The works are arranged systematically according to period, region or historical discipline, and within this classification alphabetically. The bibliography contains a geographical index and indexes of persons and authors.

When Nazis looked to flee Europe with stolen art, gems, and gold in tow, certain “neutral” countries were all too willing to assist them. By the end of January 1945, it was clear to Germany that the war was lost. The Third Reich was in freefall, and its leaders, apart from those clustered around Hitler in his Berlin bunker, sought to abscond before they were besieged. But they wanted to take their wealth with them. Their escape routes were diverse: Sweden and Switzerland boasted proximity, banking, and industrial closeness, while Spain and Portugal offered an inviting Atlantic coastline and shipping routes to South America. And in various ways, each of these so-called neutral nations welcomed the Nazi escapees, along with the clandestine wealth they carried. Cashing Out tells the riveting history of the race to intercept the stolen assets before they disappeared, and before the will to punish Germany was replaced by the political considerations of the fast-approaching Cold War. Bestselling author Neill Lochery here brilliantly recounts the flight of the Nazi-looted riches—the last great escape of World War II—and the Allied quest for justice.

Postwar analyses of Germany’s last ever Field-Marshal, Albert Kesselring, have tended to be sympathetic and even adulatory in their appraisals. This book raises fundamental questions about their legitimacy, and challenges the widely held belief that he was one of the “greatest commanders to emerge” from the last World War. It illustrates that this reputation has been bolstered by the need to conceal the ineptitude and inexperience of Allied opposition. Often seen as a benign and good-natured patrician, the study shows that he was deeply implicated in the Nazi preparation for war, that he was guilty of serious war crimes, and that he committed perjury to save himself at the expense of a junior general. The book also highlights that the SS became a scapegoat for the whole Nazi regime, that he became a pawn in Cold War politics which assisted his release from execution and prison, that he survived the denazification process because it became a nonsense, that those who hoped he would assume a leadership in postwar Germany were disappointed by his inability to accept the new Europe, and that he died in ignominy. The book is a re-appraisal of Kesselring and demythologises many deeply held concepts of the period between 1930 and 1960.