In 1939, the Volksdeutsche Bewegung in Liechtenstein (VDBL), Liechtenstein’s local Nazi group, frustrated by the political situation, attempted to stage a coup on Friday, 24 March. They were to cause sufficient unrest that Nazi forces over the border in Austria could reasonably enter the country in the name of restoring order and simply never leave. David Beattie recounts the story in Liechtenstein: A Modern History:
Frustration, awareness of the electoral deadline, the illusion that the Prince and his government “must” have made fundamental concessions in Berlin, and Hitler’s drive into Prague and Memel combined to force the VDBL into the frame of mind that “something must be done”. The plan was to stage a demonstration in Vaduz, provoke clashes with their opponents and then call on Nazi organisations across the border in Feldkirch for “help”. The latter would come to the aid of their oppressed brothers, occupy the country and so enable a newly formed VDBL government to declare Liechtenstein’s union with the Reich. By Wednesday 22 March an SA battalion and an NSKK company (600 armed men altogether) and 150 vehicles stood ready in Feldkirch as a result of local initiative. A hard core of about 100 VDBL activists was scattered in groups around Liechtenstein, prepared to block the Rhine Bridges and to march on Vaduz. The coup was postponed to Thursday and then to Friday, to take advantage of both Franz Josef’s absence in a clinic in Zurich and a long weekend by [Prime Minister Josef] Hoop in Lugano. At that point things began to go wrong. The advantage of surprise was lost. Rumours and warnings began to trickle in.
Alerted by telephone calls from people in Liechtenstein and the Federal Political Department in Berne, [Dr. Alois] Vogt went to Feldkirch at noon. The authorities there finally admitted that they knew that an “unauthorised initiative” was being planned. Vogt threatened them with personal consequences and pointed out that in Berlin the Reich Government had guaranteed Liechtenstein’s independence to Franz Josef. On his return to Vaduz at 5pm Vogt briefed the other members of the Government, asked Berne to alert the Swiss Legation in Berlin, called the chief of police and summoned the VDBL leader, Theodor Schädler, to the Government Building.
On hearing later that evening that threatening movements seemed to be starting in Feldkirch, Vogt again contacted the Feldkirch district head, Dr Tschofen, this time by telephone. Tschofen was evasive. Vogt threatened to get in touch directly with the government in Berlin. Tschofen asked him not to do that and threatened to do something about the matter. Vogt said that he would come to Feldkirch again to check up, and if he were not home in good time the Swiss Federal Political Department would be in touch with Berlin. With Schädler and his associates Vogt took an uncompromising line. They left the Government Building determined to carry out the putsch, but they knew that Vogt, contrary to their hopes, would not be with them.*
Meanwhile VDBL supporters were assembling in Nendeln, Schaan and Triesen, having been told by their leaders that the Germans would cross the border at 10.30pm. In Schaan, the house where about 20 of them had met (now including their leader Schädler) was surrounded by an angry crowd numbering about 100. The mood became ugly. The group in Nendeln (about 40 strong) marched off to rescue them, closely observed by the police. On the frontier, Nazi Party officials took up positions at about 10pm to stop any further advance by the SA, NSKK and Hitler Youth detachments. Vogt arrived in Feldkirch at about the same time. He found nobody in authority to speak to, but learnt that the SA had just been told that “the march was off” and saw them drinking in their usual tavern.
Acting independently and on his own initiative, Fr Frommelt forced his way through the crowd at Schaan and into the house, where he argued unsuccessfully with the VDBL leaders. One of them threatened him with Dachau. He then drove to the frontier to see what was happening, stopping at Nendeln to have the conspirators’ telephones cut off. Having met the marchers on the way, he asked the mayor of the Schaan commune to do what he could to stop them. The mayor and the Scouts barred the road, armed with sticks, scythes and a fire hydrant. On his way back from the frontier Fr Frommelt halted 100 metres in front of them and, standing quite alone in the dark, waited for the marchers. He stopped them, argued with their leader and asked them to wait while he took the leader into Schaan to reassure him about the wellbeing of those besieged in the house. After that, he said, they should turn back. Vogt appeared by chance at the house on his return from Feldkirch. The march leader saw enough in Schaan to convince him that his column had no chance of success and ordered it to withdraw. At 4am the occupants of the house (now numbering 18) were arrested. The group at Triesen melted away. The night of fear and tension ended.
Of the hundred conspirators, 36 fled to Feldkirch. 22 stayed abroad and many of them fought in the war. Others returned. In all 76 people were questioned; eight were accused of high treason and rebellion. Lesser charges were brought against more than 40 others. The charge of high treason against the five leaders remaining in Vaduz portended problems. It carried the death penalty; it would have created martyrs and caused friction with Germany; and the president of the Liechtenstein criminal court was himself a German judge. The solution found was to release the five from arrest against a written undertaking to leave the country immediately together with their families, to abstain from any political activity affecting Liechtenstein and to return when required for further criminal proceedings. Four did indeed return for trial in 1945.
In other respects, too, it was necessary to play down the affair in public and in private. The attempt had been contrary to Hitler’s policy. It is likely that Hitler himself was informed of it through two separate channels (one of them an official on Ribbentrop’s staff whom the Liechtenstein Government had been cultivating for some time). It is even possible that Hitler himself gave the order to stop the march. That being so, German face had to be saved and the Germans personally involved had to shift the blame onto others. Liechtenstein itself had nothing to gain from living with a humiliated and resentful Gauleiter of Tyrol-Vorarlberg. So, in a formal note to Berlin, the Liechtenstein Government thanked the Vorarlberg authorities for their part in preventing SA and NSKK units from helping the plans of “a small Liechtenstein group” and asked the German Government to ensure that similar incidents would not be repeated in future. Von Weizsäcker was happy to confirm this explicitly to the Swiss Minister in Berlin. Hoop and Vogt took a similar line with the neighbouring German authorities, including those at Feldkirch and the Volksdeutsche Mittelstelle, in some cases at the germans’ own request. In Berlin, the leader of the Volksdeutsche Mittelstelle, SS Obergruppenführer Lorenz, was brazen enough to boast in a report to Ribbentrop that thanks to his organisation’s efforts the foreign policy consequences of the undertaking had been completely averted.
Hitler’s disdain for Liechtenstein’s insignificance, the existence of the Swiss connection and good luck helped the Principality to escape. Yet matters could easily have gone the other way on that dark March night. Vogt’s prompt use of his German contacts and his firmness (the latter unexpected by some but perhaps reinforced by his belief that Berlin was not interested in a coup) saved the day in Feldkirch and Vaduz. Fr Frommelt’s moral and physical courage (without knowledge of Berlin’s policies) enabled him to dominate the critical situation in Schaan. He kept the two sides apart, whereas violence or bloodshed might have precipitated a Nazi onslaught. The local people’s spontaneous rally proved that the bullies were outnumbered. Without all this quick thinking and active opposition in Liechtenstein, the unauthorised invasion might easily have gone ahead and succeeded. If so, it is hard to see how the German Government could have disowned it without looking unacceptably foolish or out of control of its own forces. Switzerland would not have intervened. The world would have accepted the fait accompli. The disappearance of Liechtenstein, either immediately or in the near future, would have been noted but quickly forgotten in the international tumult. As Sir Alexander Cadogan minuted to Lord Halifax at the Foreign Office on 22 April 1939, “I am sorry if its annexation should cause any inconvenience and alarm in Switzerland, but I really don’t see what we could do about it.”
The importance of what had happened was instantly recognised in Switzerland. The Neue Zürcher Zeitung, not always well disposed to Liechtenstein, wrote on 27 March 1939, “We can be proud to have a neighbour that despite its smallness is ready, without an army, to sacrifice its last drop of blood for its existence, true to the saying ‘God helps those who help themselves’”. Over the next few months, and especially after the outbreak of war, the Swiss Government took some practical steps to help Liechtenstein workers and exports. On 5 July the Liechtenstein Government replied to Berne’s note of 30 January and obtained reluctant Swiss acceptance of its naturalisation policy,** albeit with restrictions on the extent to which Switzerland would accept or represent its newly naturalised citizens.
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