Eighty years after Hermann Göring's suicide hours before his scheduled execution at the Nuremberg Trials, a new book proposes a controversial theory suggesting two British soldiers aided the Nazi leader's death. Author Paul Hooley claims in "Göring’s Suicide: ‘They Will Not Hang Me!’" that Airey Neave, a future Conservative MP, and Captain Wolfe Frank, an interpreter, were complicit in delivering the cyanide capsule that Göring used to end his life on October 15, 1946.
Nuremberg Trials, the first and most high-profile of the post-World War II proceedings, had exposed the full scale of Nazi atrocities. Göring, Hitler's deputy Reichsmarschall, was seen as the Allied powers' key target to symbolize the end of the Third Reich. His suicide, just hours before his scheduled hanging, frustrated the Allies' desire to see him face public judgment and raised enduring questions about how he obtained the poison.
Over the decades, various accounts have emerged, including that of U.S. Army guard Herbert Lee Stivers, who claimed to have smuggled a poison-filled fountain pen at the request of a German woman, and SS officer Erich Bach-Zelewski, who alleged he hid the capsule in a bar of soap. However, these claims have faced scrutiny and doubt.
Hooley's research, detailed in his book, points to a different narrative involving Neave and Frank. Neave, who later orchestrated Margaret Thatcher's rise to leadership and was assassinated in 1979, and Frank, known as the "Voice of Doom" for delivering death sentences to prisoners, are identified as the British personnel present.
Hooley's investigation was spurred by revelations from a woman who claimed Frank confided in his final months that he was present when the cyanide capsule was handed to Göring. This information gained traction when Hooley discovered a 2003 interview with Edwin Putzell, former second-in-command of the U.S. Office of Strategic Services (OSS). Putzell stated he had given the capsule to Göring on the orders of OSS founder General William J. Donovan, suggesting Göring had cooperated with the Allies and deserved "mercy."
Pützell's interview mentioned the capsule was given "with the agreement of the British contingent" and in the presence of a witness. Hooley's research identified Neave and Frank as the only British representatives present with Donovan and Putzell at that time. Both men had visited Göring in his cell.
Neave's autobiography describes his encounters with Göring, noting a peculiar manner of speaking that he later realized might have been Göring concealing the capsule in his mouth. Frank's memoirs contain a similar anecdote. Hooley suggests these shared, similar accounts could have been a cover story, agreed upon by the British and Americans, to imply Göring brought the poison into the prison himself, thus deflecting scrutiny from those who supplied it.
Donovan, according to a biography by Douglas Waller, saw the Nuremberg Trials not only as a venue for retribution but also as an opportunity to showcase his skills as a prosecutor and advocate for a permanent postwar intelligence agency. He reportedly engaged in private meetings with Göring, cultivating him as a potential witness. Donovan allegedly promised Göring that if he testified against fellow Nazis, he could avoid hanging and instead face a firing squad, a less ignominious end for a military man. The cyanide capsule would serve as Göring's "insurance policy" should the Allies renege on their promise.
Colonel Burton Andrus, the prison commandant, had implemented strict anti-suicide measures, including constant surveillance. However, Wolfe Frank characterized the search regime as "amateurish and predictable," suggesting Göring's "brilliant mind" could easily outwit his jailers.
If Göring did receive the capsule from Putzell, his insistence on possessing it proved prescient. Justice Robert Jackson, chief prosecutor, was reportedly angered by Donovan's negotiations with Göring and dismissed Donovan from the proceedings on November 26, 1945. Donovan and Putzell subsequently left Nuremberg. Both Frank and Neave remained until the trials concluded in 1946. Hooley suggests that if they were aware of Göring's cyanide, they made no effort to prevent him from using it.
Frank, known for his rebellious nature, might have found amusement in participating in such a clandestine plan. Neave, with his legal background, may have shared Donovan's doubts about Jackson's prosecutorial approach. He later described an instance where Jackson appeared overwhelmed by documents, and Göring offered to assist, a moment that left Neave appalled and Göring triumphant.
Ultimately, Jackson secured the convictions, and Wolfe Frank broadcast the sentences to an estimated 400 million listeners worldwide. The "little ironic smile" Göring displayed as he learned his fate, as described by one reporter, is now interpreted by some as a signal understood only by Frank and Neave, a grim acknowledgment of his successful defiance of the gallows.