by Trevor Hoyle
His breathing was hoarse and erratic and his left hand, the entire arm in fact, was shaking uncontrollably as in palsy. At that moment he was probably unaware of his surroundings, though his eyes were wide open, staring, the eyeballs protruding.
‘We should get him to his bed,’ Julius said.
‘Not yet. The injection must take effect first. He’ll be all right in a minute or two.’
‘Is he in any danger?’ Julius raised the Führer’s head and slipped a cushion underneath.
I didn’t answer right away; it never does any good to let the layman believe the answer is simple, or alternatively that the doctor hasn’t a clue what is wrong with the patient. If I let him sweat for a while it would increase his respect and dependence on me. So I pursed my lips and clicked my tongue, the learned practitioner mulling over the forces at war within the human organism, the mysteries of life and death.
‘Julius,’ I said at last, gravely. ‘I will speak to you frankly. I wouldn’t take you into my confidence if I didn’t believe you to have the well-being of the Führer closest to your heart.’
‘Yes?’ He moistened his lips. ‘Yes? What is it?’
‘The Führer has an incurable disease,’ I said sombrely. ‘I have not told him this and neither must you. It is a secret known to just two people in all the world. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ he whispered. His face was grey.
‘We can save him, you and I, we can keep him alive – providing he is given the correct drugs in precisely the right amounts at certain times each and every day. Without these drugs he will die. Now I repeat, the Führer does not himself know of his true condition. He thinks it is nothing more than nervous strain due to overwork. The secret is between the two of us, you and I. No one, absolutely no one, must ever know the truth.’
‘You have my word, you can trust me,’ he said, his voice shaking. ‘On the body of my mother. Oh my God!’
The awesomeness of the moment, and of the knowledge I had sacredly imparted to him, suddenly struck home. His face, even his lips, were the same drab shade.
I said, ‘The value of your service to the Reich will be increased a millionfold if you can carry this secret within your heart. The Führer and the Fatherland depend on you.’
After this little stirring speech, which almost brought tears to his eyes, I asked to be left alone with the patient, saying that it was necessary for me to observe him undisturbed for at least half an hour.
‘We must allay the fears of the others,’ I told him. ‘I rely on you to make the announcement that the Führer is under sedation. Tell them he is all right and there is no cause for alarm. Say that I will issue a medical statement later this evening.’
Julius went to the door.
‘And by the way. If von Hasselbach requests, or even demands, to be admitted you must adamantly refuse. We cannot risk any further upset to the Führer’s constitution at this critical stage.’
‘Very well, Herr Doktor. I understand. No one will be allowed to enter without your express permission.’
A useful man, Julius; so trusting and obedient, determined to do his duty.
On receiving the injection the patient’s eyes had grown heavy and gradually closed, but now as I pinched the skin on the back of his hand they fluttered open again. His gaze was vacant, still a little dull, though the pupils were no longer dilated. His skin was suffused with blood as the combined narcotic stimulant worked their way through his system. His first response on gaining consciousness was to start weeping.
‘There, there now,’ I soothed him. ‘Nobody’s going to hurt you. Everything is all right. Just lie still.’
‘I thought I was dead,’ Adolf said in a tiny voice like a child’s. ‘I didn’t die, did I?’
‘No, of course not, silly goose. You’re alive, here with me.’ I stroked his hand.
His eyes came into focus and he looked at me properly. ‘You’re not my mother. Where’s my mother? She said I mustn’t talk to strange men.’
‘Now now now,’ I chided him, ‘let’s have no foolishness. This is Theo, your doctor. You’re in the Chancellery, remember? Your name is Adolf Hitler. You’re the Leader of the Third Reich, Architect of the New Order, Führer of the united German peoples.’
‘Am I?’ he said, blinking at me stupidly.
‘Of course you are. Now pull yourself together, Liebling, we can’t let your disciples see you in this state. Come along now.’
He struggled to sit up, the black slick of hair falling across his forehead. His left hand, I noticed, had slowed to a hardly discernible tremor.
‘How do you feel?’
‘Everything went suddenly dark. There was a rushing noise in my head. I didn’t make a fool of myself, did I? The others, they didn’t see …’
‘Julius got rid of them, they saw nothing. It’s all right, Adolf, there’s no need to worry. Take it easy.’
‘What would I do without you, Theo? You’re such a comfort. I’m all alone, nobody understands the burdens I have to bear, the tremendous responsibility. They all think I do it without effort, as though it doesn’t require the most tremendous sacrifice and self-discipline.’ His hand gripped my shoulder.
‘Depend on me, mein Führer.’
‘My dear friend Theo.’ He was about to blub again.
‘Don’t cry, Lieblichkeit*, Theo is here to look after you.’
I took his hand from my shoulder and clasped it in both of mine. We remained like this for a while, Hitler weeping softly, and at length I cradled him in my arms and rocked him to sleep. The stimulant had done its job of reviving his shattered metabolism and now the narcotic was lulling his senses into deep slumber. In this semi-waking, semi-dreaming state I had found him to be at his most receptive. In the past I had implanted the seeds of a number of ideas (the vitamin chocolate for one) which had borne fruit days, sometimes weeks, later. Now was the time.
‘This has been a wonderful day, Adolf,’ I began, rocking him to and fro. ‘A great personal and political triumph. The world will have to listen; the combined might of Germany and Great Britain is invincible. Every nation on earth shall bow before it and pay homage.’
‘Invincible,’ he murmured sleepily.
‘You are a great man,’ I continued. ‘The greatest military strategist of all time. Nothing can stand in your way.’
‘Nothing …’
‘But I am concerned for you, Adolf. Some of your personal staff, those in whom you place implicit trust, are suspect in their devious motivations and insatiable ambitions. Certain members of Himmler’s staff, for instance. I do not accuse Heinrich himself but I fear he is being misled by certain officers in his command.’
‘Mmmmzzz,’ Hitler mumbled, snuggling closer.
‘You know it is not in my nature to harbour a grudge, Adolf, and I am loath to name names. But one SS Sturmbannführer Mueller is highly suspect, I might almost say treasonable. Certainly undesirable in a position of such potential power.’
Sooner or later this would become manifest in orders of the day: a direct command that Himmler would have no choice but to carry out forthwith.
He was now, or so I thought, fast asleep, but as I laid his head on the cushion he stirred and said drowsily, ‘Do not leave me, Theo. I am so alone in all the world. Nobody really cares for me. Nobody.’ There was a catch in his voice.
‘What you need, little friend,’ I said softly, the idea popping into my head from out of nowhere, ‘is the tender loving sympathy of a woman. Someone to listen to your troubles and care for you as I am doing. Wouldn’t you like that, eh, wouldn’t you, Liebling?’
‘That sounds very nice. My own sweet edelweiss to comfort me in the dark hours before dawn. Find me someone, Theo, Blonde. Blue eyes. Healthy. A quiet sensible girl …’
His voice drifted away.
‘I will find you someone.’ I smiled. ‘I have someone in mind already. You will like her, mein Führer. My little piece of horse manure.’
He slurped his chops and started to snore
.
Berlin, September 1938
Felix has sent me a sample of the vitamin chocolate and a report which pronounces it a great success. He has tried it out on the female workforce and apart from giving one or two of them diarrhoea it seems to be most effective. He even makes the claim that it might possibly possess the qualities of an aphrodisiac. Several of the workers, he reports, have been constantly in heat. (Not those suffering from diarrhoea, I hope! Ha-ha!)
Paid my customary visit to see Eva and spent a pleasant evening listening to the gramophone. She is not yet too keen on my proposal and I went to considerable lengths to stress the benefits: money, travel, luxury accommodation, security, etc. However, when she wants to be, Eva can be a stubborn girl, practically pigheaded, and I had to resort to a little touch of emotional blackmail.
There are two main obstacles to her agreeing, as I see the situation. First, the foolish tart professes to be in love with me (which naturally I can use to my advantage) and secondly – perhaps the major stumbling-block – she despises and detests the man.
Now this could prove a real hazard to my plans. Nothing, I have found, is so intransigent as the body chemistry of the female. I explained to her that personal feelings didn’t enter into it – this was merely ‘an arrangement’ and that she should regard it as an unpleasant task that would bring great rewards.
‘But how long will it go on?’ she demanded, obviously distraught at the prospect of spending months or even longer in the intimate company of somebody she found odious. ‘If it was one night I could get drunk and last out somehow till the morning. But you’re talking about a relationship, something that could drag on for years.’
‘Darling,’ I said, ‘hush. Listen quietly now.’
She turned to look at me, her face wistful in the lamplight. She has this maidenly habit of lowering her eyes demurely and glancing up through her fair lashes; very fetching it is, altogether quite effective; I’m sure he would fall for it. And something else in her favour: she is not a perfect beauty. He wouldn’t go for that. But her winsomeness, the common-or-garden prettiness of a healthy outdoor girl with roses in her cheeks and fine unobtrusive features – yes, these are the ideal attributes.
‘Now listen,’ I said, stroking her bare shoulder, ‘hasn’t it occurred to you that you and I will see much more of each other? Here in Berlin and in Obersalzberg during the summer? Where he goes I go – we will be together, the three of us. And when he isn’t looking …’
‘You don’t love me, Theo,’ she said pettishly. ‘If you did you couldn’t bear the thought of another man touching me. Especially him. After all you’ve said about his personal bodily habits and the disgusting things he does in the bathroom.’
She wrinkled her nose and shuddered.
My hand moved down to her waist underneath the bedclothes. She shivered and goose-pimples appeared on the soft hanging flesh of her arm.
‘Listen to me,’ I said. ‘Think of it as a chore, a task that has to be done. It needn’t be every night. You could ration him to once a week. In any case he’d be away some of the time on those mad schemes of his. You know how he likes dashing about, keeping people on their toes, pretending to be busy.’
‘Then you’d be away too,’ she pouted, arching her back in response to my silky explorations.
I held her nipple between finger and thumb and pinched it. It stiffened instantly. ‘Eva …’ I crooned softly. ‘I’m asking you very nicely.’
‘Oh Theo, no, not even for you.’ She pushed my hand away. ‘You say you love me but you don’t. You don’t.’
‘Of course I do, my little horse-radish. Do this for Theo. It will make us very rich.’
‘Filthy rich?’ she said, giving me the sidelong glance that someone, possibly her first boyfriend, had told her was provocative. On a good day I’d give it six out of ten.
‘Richer than all our dreams,’ I said, taking hold of her hands. ‘Ten times richer. A hundred times richer.’
She pulled her hand from mine and brought it to rest on me beneath the bedclothes. Her eyes grew round. ‘One condition,’ she said, sounding out of breath. ‘That I can have this whenever I want it.’
‘Whenever he isn’t looking,’ I qualified.
‘You are a wicked, wicked man.’
‘Which is why you love me.’
I clasped her buttocks and pulled her towards me; then disengaging one hand I took a piece of confectionery from the bedside table.
‘A little present for you, dear heart.’
‘Oh Theo,’ she squealed. ‘Chocolate. How sweet of you.’ I popped the chocolate into her mouth. ‘You do think of me after all.’
‘That’s my trouble,’ I sighed. ‘I’m just a foolish old sentimentalist at heart.’
*
The news from abroad couldn’t be better. On his return to England Mandrake was given the kind of reception usually reserved for conquering war heroes. With only two exceptions the British Press were ecstatic about his triumphant visit and the cordial welcome of the Chancellor and the entire German nation. There has been a good deal of speculation about the election to be held in October and how this new peace initiative will affect Mandrake’s chances of becoming the next Prime Minister.
Today we received the newsreels, flown over by special courier, and Goebbels arranged a private showing during the afternoon. I thought this an opportune moment to introduce Eva to the Führer and telephoned the apartment, asking her to be at the Chancellery by two o’clock.
All went according to plan. We assembled in the conference room where the long table had been moved aside and the gilt chairs set in rows facing the screen. I was pleased to see that Eva had chosen a simple outfit for this important first meeting: a plain white blouse decorated with a subtle motif of alpine flowers (the Führer’s favourite), a straight dark-green skirt and black low-heeled shoes. I had calculated that in flat shoes she would be smaller than him by five centimetres, which was absolutely crucial if the occasion was to be a success, and I was pleased to see that this was indeed so: the Führer ‘towered’ over her, as much as he is able to tower over anyone.
After we had assembled I led her forward, having told her to keep her eyes downcast in a shy, diffident manner.
‘May I crave your indulgence, mein Führer, in presenting to you Miss Eva Braun, who has implored me so many times to be allowed the privilege and honour of meeting you.’
The first impression, I knew at once, was favourable, and several minutes passed in agreeable chatter. The Führer complimented Eva on her appearance and she responded with a small curtsy and a maidenly blush. The Führer smiled at this, glancing about him with eyes twinkling, and made what I think was a joke. Everyone laughed merrily.
When we sat down Eva was behind and slightly to one side of the Führer so that when he turned his head she was tantalizingly there at the corner of his vision. A quiet word with Julius had procured this happy arrangement.
The lights were dimmed and the screen flickered with numbers. The soundtrack crackled and then we saw a twin-engined aircraft coming in to land against a typically English sky of dark rainclouds. Mandrake stepped out and was immediately engulfed by an excited crowd. He was smiling in that rather tight-lipped way of his as he was led forward to a small platform and a cluster of microphones, surrounded on all sides by reporters and photographers. It seemed that the British Press regarded this as a major news story.
Goebbels had in his usual thorough way provided a transcript of the commentary and Mandrake’s speech and I saw the Führer holding his copy to catch the light (he pretends that his English is good but actually he knows only a dozen words).
The camera had been moved nearer so that we had a large close-up of Mandrake, the wind ruffling his neat black cap of hair and the piece of paper he held in his hand. He smiled and nodded and started to speak:
‘This morning I had a further meeting with the German Führer and we are agreed in recognizing that the question of Anglo-German relations is of
the first importance for the two countries and for Europe. We both regard our meeting as symbolic of the desire of our two peoples never to go to war with one another again.
‘We are resolved that the method of consultation shall be the method adopted to deal with any other questions that may concern our two countries, and we are determined to continue our efforts to remove possible sources of difference and thus to contribute to assure the peace of Europe.
‘My very good friends, this is the second time in our history that there has come back from Germany “peace with honour”. I believe it is peace for our time. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. And now I recommend you to go home and sleep quietly in your beds.’
There was a great shout of laughter at this closing remark and even Goebbels was laughing aloud, a rare event. The lights went up and all eyes turned to the Führer, who was nodding enthusiastically and with a broad grin on his face. I saw him glance for just a second at Eva who was sitting primly with her hands folded in her lap. She was obeying my instructions to the letter, remaining quiet and unobtrusive, seemingly in awe of the company and the occasion. The first phase had gone without a hitch, as was confirmed to me later when Heinz Linge, his personal manservant, remarked in a quiet aside that ‘the Führer finds Miss Braun quite charming. He would not be averse to seeing her at the Chancellery in the near future.’
‘I’m sure Miss Braun would be delighted to attend,’ I answered.
Eva was standing by one of the tall ornate windows overlooking the Wilhelmstrasse and I strolled across and touched her lightly on the shoulder. She turned, the cold clear light emphasizing the slant of her high cheekbones. For some reason I remembered the mole on the inner curve of her right breast.
I said, ‘You were tremendous. He is very taken with you.’
She looked at me and forced herself to smile; her eyes remained drab and without emotion. ‘Give me one of your cigarettes, those with the funny taste.’
‘My own special brand,’ I said, lighting it for. her.
She coughed and said, ‘What a pathetic trumped-up little fart he is. I can’t stand people with no sense of humour.’