Hitler Is Alive!

by Steven A. Westlake

  It was this total lack of romanticism in his personality that shrouded his love life in mystery. There were rumors that he was a homosexual and whispers that he was impotent. Neither was true. The truth was in between.

  It was only when the personal papers and diary of Eva Braun were unearthed that the secrets of Hitler’s strange love life emerged. Eva was Der Fuehrer’s mistress for 11 years until he married her in his underground bunker in Berlin just before the Third Reich collapsed. What she wrote gives an intimate glimpse of the dictator as a man, statesman and lover.

  The first clue to this historic record came on an autumn day soon after the fall of the Third Reich when the Munich office of the US Intelligence was thrown into excitement by an informer’s tip.

  Diary Discovered

  Within an hour a detail of Army men, armed with picks and shovels, were tearing up a desolate field in Bavaria. Before long they struck pay-dirt—a huge treasure chest containing the diary and a dozen photo albums showing Eva’s family life and her years of intimacy with the dictator.

  Besides the hidden secrets the treasure included precious jewelry and thousands of dollars. This was undoubtedly the getaway hoard the two were planning to use in their escape from the ruins of Berlin.

  The intelligence officers also found Hitler’s blood-spattered uniform, the one he wore on July 20, 1944, the date of the assassination attempt by the generals.

  That Eva was entrusted with this prize confirmed just how important she was in the life of Hitler.

  Eva Braun was an eyeful that would attract any man regardless of how tightly he was wrapped in affairs that would rock the world. She was 5-foot-3, well built, with good legs and a dazzling smile.

  It was in the late 1920s that the Nazi leader first met the blonde from Munich. At that time she was apprenticed to the well-known German photographer, Heinrich Hoffmann, who had a reputation for filling his staff with lush females.

  Heinrich assigned Eva to take pictures of the rising politician and she immediately caught Hitler’s fancy. It wasn’t long before she became important to him. Several years later, she left the photo studio at Hitler’s request.

  Although the affair was handled with complete discretion on both sides, Eva was with the ex-corporal all through the time he was building his party and paving the way for supreme power in Germany.

  At first she accompanied Hitler to bund meetings in his small Opel. As Hitler’s star rose, he gave Eva a Mercedes. Later he installed her in a villa in her home town of Munich.

  Close friends of the two were convinced they would marry. In 1938, he even gave her an engagement ring and bought a wedding gift. However, the pressures which later brought on the war were building up and Hitler never followed through.

  Her status as Hitler’s mistress made her unhappy because the Fuhrer kept her in the background. The limelight always shone on the wives of those high in the party hierarchy.

  But Eva’s position, nevertheless, was a privileged one. But like others of his favorites she paid for it by being subject to his petty tyrannies.

  Fuhrer Made Her Behave

  Hitler had a fetish on good health and, in line with this, smoking in his presence was strictly forbidden. Also something of a Puritan, the dictator frowned on dancing, too. She had to sneak her cigarettes and could only dance in secret.

  Eva was a natural blonde but she used to bleach her hair lighter and experiment with her hairdo almost weekly before she met Hitler. But when their attachment became serious, he insisted that she revert to her natural shade and dress her hair conservatively.

  Although when the dictator was away, Eva flirted with officers and SS guards, she was in constant anxiety that Hitler would learn of this.

  The Fuhrer’s anger was aroused when he heard of her being pleasant to other men.

  What sort of person was this woman who shared Hitler’s life?

  She certainly was not intellectually stimulating—in her school days she was nicknamed “Fathead.” She was gay, warm and feminine and her empty head was crammed with ideas she gleaned from movies and cheap novels. She was also interested in sports, animals, sex and clothes. She was a typical product of her lower middle class background.

  Despite her outward assurance, we know from her diary that Eva was a frustrated female. She frequently confided to its chapters her loneliness and lack of recognition.

  Hitler’s indifference troubled her and his preoccupation with politics and world problems when he was with her annoyed Eva.

  Hitler went weeks without seeing his mistress and the fear that he would desert her for another made her insecure.

  Twice she attempted suicide. This did bring Hitler closer for a time but only through fear of scandal.

  Eva’s diary covers some of the most exciting days of her life and a time when Hitler’s power was nearing its peak.

  However, the entries between February 6 and May 28, 1935 show that she had little interest in the political events that absorbed her paramour.

  This was the time when Germany annexed the Saar and the dictator was building his army in defiance of the Versailles Treaty.

  These power plays made little impression on the Munich blonde. The pages reveal her as childish and emotionally insecure.

  Never Referred to Hitler

  Strangely enough, she never once mentioned Hitler by name—always using an impersonal pronoun when she referred to the lover who dominated her life.

  February 6, 1935 — I guess today is the right day to begin this masterpiece.

  I have happily reached my twenty-third year … whether I am happy is another question. At the moment I am certainly not happy. That is because I have such high expectations for such an “important” day.

  If I only had a dog, then I wouldn’t be quite so alone; but I guess that is asking too much.

  Mrs. Schauk came with flowers and a telegram as “ambassador.”

  My whole office looks like a flower shop and smells like a mortuary. I am really ungrateful, but I hoped so much to get a little dachshund, and now again nothing. Perhaps next year or even after that; when it will be better suited for an incipient spinster.

  Let me not give up hope. I should have learned patience by now.

  I bought two lottery tickets today.

  It seems as though I’ll never get rich. Can’t do anything about that. Today I would have gone to the Zugspitze with Herta, Gretl, Ilse and mother and we would have lived like kings, because one always has the most fun when others share the happiness.

  But the trip didn’t come off.

  Today I’m going to eat with Herta. What else may a simple little woman of twenty-three do? Thus, I’ll bring my birthday to a close with gluttony. I believe I shall have acted in accordance with his wishes.

  February 11, 1935 — He was just here, but no dog and no presents. He didn’t even ask me whether I had a birthday wish. Somehow I bought myself some jewelry. A necklace, earrings and a ring to match for fifty marks. Everything very pretty. I hope he likes it. If not, he may buy me something himself.

  February 15, 1935 — It seems that the Berlin deal is really going to come off. This I won’t believe until I am in the Reichschancellery.

  It is really too bad that Herta can’t come along instead of Charlotta. She would be a guarantee for a few happy days. This way there will probably be a big ado because I don’t think that Bruckner, for a change, will show his more charming side when he meets Charlotta. I don’t dare look forward to it yet, but it might turn out to be wonderful if everything goes well. Let’s hope so.

  (Hitler at this time was arranging an apartment for Eva at the Chancellery in Berlin. Bruckner, mentioned above, was one of Hitler’s trusted aides.)

  February 18, 1935 — Yesterday, he came quite unexpectedly and it was a delightful evening.

  The nicest thing was that he is thinking about taking me out of the firm and—I don’t want to be too happy yet—to buy me a little house. I don’t dare think of it. It would be so wonderful.
I wouldn’t have to open the door for our “honorable” customers and play salesgirl. Dear God, please make it come true within a reasonable period of time.

  Poor Charlotta is sick and can’t come to Berlin with us. She’s really unlucky, but maybe it is better that way. Maybe he would be very rude to her and then she would certainly be even more unhappy. I am so infinitely happy because he loves me so and pray that it will always be like this. I should never want to be to blame if once he should stop loving me.

  Unhappy Moments

  March 4, 1935 — I am mortally unhappy. Since I can’t write him, this diary must serve to relieve my pain.

  He came Saturday for the big Munich ball. Mrs. Schwarz had given me a loge ticket for it and so I was obliged to attend at all costs, especially since I had already accepted.

  I spent a few wonderful hours with him until 12 o’clock and then went to the ball with his permission.

  He promised that I could see him on Sunday. In spite of the fact that I called up and sent a message that I am waiting for him, he drove off to Feldafing. He even refused Hoffmann’s invitation to tea and supper. One may look at everything from two sides; perhaps he wanted to be alone with Dr. Goebbels who was also here, but he could have let me know. I was at Hoffmann’s on pins and needles, thinking all the time that he might come any minute.

  We went to the train later, because he had decided to leave, but only arrived in time to see the rear lights. We had again left for the train too late, and thus I couldn’t even say goodbye. Probably I’m too pessimistic again, I hope, but he hasn’t been here for fourteen days, and I am so unhappy and have no peace of mind. Incidentally, I don’t know why he should be so angry with me—perhaps because I went to the ball—but then he gave me his permission.

  I am uselessly wracking my brain as to why he should be driving away without saying goodbye.

  Hoffmann gave me a ticket for tonight’s performance of “Venetian Nights,” but I won’t go. I am much too unhappy.

  (The dictator could spare no time then for his mistress because three days earlier he had sent the German army into the Saar and was consolidating the occupation.)

  Suicide Thoughts

  March 11, 1935 — I only wish that I were seriously ill and would hear nothing of him for eight days. Why doesn’t something happen to me? Why do I suffer like this? I wish I had never seen him. I am desperate. I am now going to buy more sleeping tablets, at least then I’ll be half-dazed and won’t think about him so much.

  Why doesn’t the devil come and get me. I’m sure it’s nicer there than here.

  For three hours I stood outside the Carlton Hotel and had to watch while he brought flowers for Annie Ondra and invited her for supper. (Marginal note, written March 26: Just my crazy imagination.) He is only using me for very definite purposes. (Marginal note, written March 26: Baloney, probably I am, too.) When he says he loves me, he takes it about as seriously as his promises which he never keeps. Why does he torture me so much instead of just putting an end to the whole thing?

  (For many days Hitler had been busy fighting off British attempts to settle arms and territory problems in Europe.)

  March 15, 1935 — He went to Berlin again. If only I didn’t “go off the beam” whenever I see him less than usual. Actually, it’s quite natural that he shows no great interest in me at present, since there is so much going on politically.

  I am going to take a trip to the Zugspitze with Gertl today; then maybe my remorse will subside. Everything has always turned out all right so far, and it will be the same this time. One must have patience, that’s all.

  (This was the day Hitler scrapped the Versailles Treaty and set up an army of 36 divisions. For the first time Eva recognized something else was going on in the world outside her boudoir.)

  April 1, 1935 — Yesterday, we were invited by him for supper at the Four Seasons. I had to sit next to him for three hours and couldn’t say a word to him. When leaving, he handed me an envelope containing money, as he had done once before. If only he had at least added a greeting or a kind word. I would have been so happy, but he never thinks of anything like that.

  Why doesn’t he go to Hoffmann’s to eat? There, at least, I would have him to myself for a few minutes. I only wish he wouldn’t come any more until his home is ready.

  April 29, 1935 — Things are very tough. I keep humming to myself “Things will improve,” but it doesn’t help much. The house is ready, but I can’t go to visit him; love does not seem to be on his program at present. Now that he is back in Berlin, I feel a little better; but there were days during the last week when I did my share of crying at night, especially since I spent Easter at home by myself. I’m getting on everybody’s nerves because I want to sell everything from my clothes to my cameras, and even theater tickets. Oh, well … things will improve. After all, my debts are not that big.

  May 10, 1935 — According to Mrs. Hoffmann’s kind and also tactless remarks, he now has a substitute for me. Her name is Valkyrie, and she looks it, including her legs. But those are the shapes that appeal to him. If that is true, he will soon have annoyed her till she gets slim, unless she has Charlie’s talent for thriving on worries. Worry alone seems to increase her appetite.

  If Mrs. H’s observations should turn out to be true, it is mean of him not to tell me. After all, he should know me well enough to realize that I would never stand in his way, if he should discover another romantic interest. Why should he worry about what happens to me? I’ll wait till the third of June. … I’ll ask him of an explanation by mail. Now tell me again that I’m not modest.

  The weather is gorgeous, and I, the mistress of Germany’s and the world’s greatest man, have to sit at home and look at it through the window. He has so little understanding and still makes me appear distant when his friends are around. Well, one makes one’s own bed … I guess it really is my fault, but it is just one of those things for which one likes to blame someone else. This period of fasting won’t last forever, and then it will taste much better. Too bad, though, that it just happens to be spring.

  May 28, 1935 — I have just sent him a letter, one that is decisive, for me. Will he consider it as important as I do? Well, we’ll see. If I don’t get an answer by tonight, I’ll take my 25 pills and lie down peacefully. Is it a sign of the terrific love of which he assures me, that he hasn’t spoken a kind word to me for three months? Agreed that he’s been busy with political problems, but have not things eased off?

  And how about last year when he had lots of worries with Ernst Rohm and with Italy, and he still found time for me? True, I’m not in a position to judge whether the present situation isn’t much worse, but after all a few kind words to Mrs. Hoffmann would hardly have taken much time. I fear there is some other reason. It’s not my fault; certainly not. Maybe it’s another woman, although I doubt that it’s Valkyrie. What other reason could there be? I can’t find any.

  P.S. My God, I’m afraid I will not get an answer today. If only someone would help me; everything is so hopeless. Maybe my letter reached him at an inopportune time, or maybe I shouldn’t have written at all. Whichever it is, the uncertainty in much worse than even a sudden end would be. Dear God, please make it possible that I speak to him today, tomorrow will be too late. I have decided on 35 pills to make death certain this time. If he would at least have someone call up for him.

  (During this time Hitler was proclaiming his desire for peace and trying to set up non-aggression pacts.)

  Eva, of course, didn’t take the pills and she obviously adjusted to the turbulence of her emotional life with Hitler.

  When the dictator built his retreat in Berchtesgaden, she stayed there with a group of her closest friends. Her relationship with Hitler was finally accepted by the top Nazis and she no longer was a dark secret in his personal life.

  She was at the Fuhrer’s side throughout the war. Then, in the early hours of April 29, 1945, as Berlin was under artillery fire by the Allies, Hitler married his faithful mistr
ess in the map-room of his underground bunker.

  Despite the heartaches and bitter frustrations she revealed in her diary, Eva’s loyalty to Der Fuehrer was finally rewarded—she became Mrs. Adolf Hitler.

  Hitler’s Family

  Would Henry Louis Gates touch this one with a ten-foot pole? We know Maury Povich would. But try getting DNA samples from the suspected relatives. Might as well try proving the parentage of the heirs to the British throne! After all, how many people are eager to find out they’re the direct descendants of Adolph Hitler?

  It is well known Hitler did not marry until the day before his “disappearance,” and that he did not have any—officially recognized—children. He was too devoted to greater things. “The cheers of the mobs, the screams from the gas chambers and concentration camps drowned out the chimes of wedding bells,” the Gazette concisely points out.

  In this section, we explore the claims of those who say they are Hitler’s children, or those who say they know about Hitler’s children. We look at the hard road suffered by known relatives and godchildren, whose actions range from atoning for the sins of their father—as in the case of Martin Bormann the younger—to fighting legal battles over massive inheritances that would be due them under normal circumstances. Can Adolph Hitler’s sister be blamed for not being content with a $4 weekly pension when her brother’s fortune amounted to tens if not hundreds of millions?

  Then there’s some Jewish revenge. The article proving Hitler had Jewish ancestors—and knew it—pushes the concept of the self-hating Jew to it’s most outrageous extreme, while Hitler’s anti-­Semitism, secret children, and his still being alive are brought together most poignantly by self-proclaimed daughter Gisela Fleischer Hoser. “I rather hope that my father is still alive and reads these lines to learn that his only daughter has married a Jew.”

  More significant to us than Gisela’s conversion to Judaism—ensuring Hitler’s direct descendants would be Jewish—is the image of Hitler reading the Police Gazette. He’d be at his secret Patagonian lair, enjoying the Gazette’s unique take on life. One wonders what might have been were he a regular reader during his development early in the century. Might the Gazette have influenced a breezier approach to life? If only, if only …