I don't know much about Hitler's overall oratorical practices to be able to talk about any of that. But I
am familiar with one of his more infamous speeches, given on 8 November 1942 in the
Löwenbräukeller in Munich. The speech was made to an audience of Nazi Party comrades (
Meine Parteigenossen und Parteigenossinnen!) and
Alter Kämpfer and mostly discussed the ongoing combat in Stalingrad, hence its usual reference as the "Stalingrad speech".
Here is a document for the speech in German. The speech was also broadcast by radio, so anyone interested in listening to it now can do so via recordings.
Hitler was, undoubtedly, a much more coherent thinker in 1942 than Trump is today. Trump can barely keep hold of ideas for any extended period of time. He often loses his thread within the same phrase, let alone the same sentence. Hitler, on the other hand, had a coherent message. He was, if not a
good orator, at the very least an acceptable one. He hits many of his highlights in the speech - the vulnerability of democratic Germany, the "plunder" of the West and East, the responsibility of every other country for the war, how he allegedly offered peace only to have it rejected at every turn by enemies foreign and domestic, the conspiracy of Jews and capitalists and Bolsheviks, yada yada yada.
Two points of similarity with Trump, however, come up in the Stalingrad speech.
The first is Hitler's joke:
Hitler said:
Daß ich die Sachen nun nicht immer so mache, wie die anderen es gerade wollen – ja, ich überlege mir, was die anderen wahrscheinlich glauben und mache es dann grundsätzlich anders. Wenn also Herr Stalin erwartet hat, daß wir in der Mitte angreifen – ich wollte nicht in der Mitte angreifen. Nicht nur deswegen, weil vielleicht Herr Stalin daran glaubte, sondern weil mir daran gar nichts mehr lag. Sondern ich wollte zur Wolga kommen, an einer bestimmten Stelle, an einer bestimmten Stadt. Zufälligerweise trägt sie den Namen von Stalin selber, aber denken Sie nur nicht, daß ich deswegen dort losmarschiert bin – sie könnte ja auch ganz anders heißen – sondern nur weil dort ein ganz wichtiger Punkt ist.
Here is my translation, adapted slightly for English conventions on sentences:
"Now, I don't just do things the way others want me to do them! Yes, instead, I consider what the others believe I will do, and then I do the opposite as a matter of principle. Thus when Mr. Stalin believed I would attack in the center [
Heeresgruppe Mitte, or Army Group Center, fighting at Rzhev near Moscow] - I wanted to
not attack in the center. Now, this was not only because Mr. Stalin thought this way, but also because I didn't even care about it [Moscow] at all. But I wanted to come to the Volga, to a specific place and a specific city. It's only a coincidence that the city holds Stalin's name. That's not why I marched there. It could've had another name. I only marched there because it is a greatly important point."
Hitler does go on to give some statistical reasons for holding Stalingrad, but they're actually just reasons to invade the Caucasus, which is notably
not Stalingrad. Obviously, this joke isn't even remotely true (which is arguably one of the reasons why it's funny): Stalingrad's name and its symbolic meaning far overshadowed its importance in terms of strategic infrastructure. Symbols can be useful targets, of course, but his steadfast denial of the blatant truth here is objectively funny. And Hitler's insistence that he doesn't even really care about Moscow, or about Stalingrad's name, are exceedingly similar to Trump's remarks about anything associated with him that doesn't go well.
The second is the most egregious lie in the speech:
Hitler said:
Den wollte ich nehmen, und – wissen Sie – wir sind bescheiden, wir haben ihn nämlich! Es sind nur ein paar ganz kleine Plätzchen noch da. Nun sagen die anderen: „Warum kämpfen sie dann nicht?“ Weil ich kein zweites Verdunmachen will, sondern weil ich es lieber mit ganz kleinen Stoßtrupps mache.
My translation:
"That [the raw materials of the region] is what I wanted to take. As you know, we are modest. But we have taken the city. There are only a few small pockets of resistance left. Others would say, 'why not fight onwards'? Because I do not want a second Verdun. Instead, I would rather hold the city with a few small assault units."
This is a gross falsification. By 8 November, the Germans had indeed captured most of the city, with the Red Army clinging onto a few small strips along the Volga. But the battle had
already become a second Verdun, a second slaughterhouse, for the Germans and Soviets both. And it was not even remotely over. Hitler was even just then personally ordering the armies of the south to bring up their last reserves, several battalions of combat engineers, to spearhead one final assault to reach the Volga. (The Germans would reach the river, but failed to destroy either of the Soviet pockets in the city before the Red Army counteroffensive halted their attacks.) For the most part, the German forces in the city were exhausted - they were, in the parlance of the time,
Schlacke, or "burned-out cinders". There were hundreds of thousands of them, not a few small units of
Stosstruppen. And soon they would be encircled and captured by the imminent Red Army counteroffensive.
What does this have to do with Trump? Not quite as much, in terms of rhetorical style. Again, Hitler was usually much more eloquent than Trump. He was an effective speaker, even if few would call him a great one. Trump is not. Trump doesn't even understand what sentences are. Hitler, though, was one of the most willing individuals to employ the Big Lie on a regular basis in everything he said. Like any other magician or con man, he knew that his listeners didn't
want to know the truth. They just wanted something to "believe in", even if it was incredibly flimsy, so long as they didn't have to confront reality. It's become more common since 1942, of course, among any number of tinpot scumbags. But more than anything else, this is Trump's stock in trade.