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It was not until Drexler and Harrer started to square off in an argument over how the meager treasury should be spent that Halstead spoke once more. “Gentlemen.” All six, like the twenty-five before, stopped to stare at the officer with the commanding voice. “We don’t need to get bogged down in useless details. We are here to put the German worker back on his feet, and make Germany great again.” Harrer’s stare directed across the table at Halstead quickly turned cold. “What do you suggest we do, Corporal Hitler, instead of discussing ‘useless details’?” Halstead crossed a leg over a kneecap. “I suggest we take actions to grow the party, increase our membership. Let’s send out invitations to our next meeting. Hundreds, maybe thousands—” “And how do you suggest we come up with ‘thousands’ of invitations, Corporal?” Harrer’s questioning voice was as cold as his stare. “We have no money.” “We don’t need a lot of money, Herr Harrer. I can type a blanket invitation, mimeograph it, and distribute it. I have a few marks, and we can put advertisements in the papers. We’ll ask the new people we bring to the meetings for contributions, and then we’ll have all the money we need.” As he had given his explanation, Halstead’s folded leg had returned to the dingy floor and his arms had unfolded as well. “Corporal Hitler, allow me to point out the fact that you’re not even a member of this committee. How dare you—” “I make a motion to accept Corporal Adolf Hitler as a member of the Committee of the German Workers’ Party,” one of the six current members proposed. “Seconded.” Anton Drexler ignored Harrer’s glare, and only stared in fascination at the man sitting across the table and wearing a small smile. |