Chocolate Cake With Hitler (13 page)

In December, Uncle Leader came to tea at Castle Lanke having driven from Berlin through heavy snow. We all had to wear these matching green dresses that Mummy had had made from the old nursery curtains. We hadn’t seen Uncle Leader for almost the whole war. We sat in the big hall. Cook had made a cake for the occasion but Uncle Leader didn’t touch it. He had brought his own cake and even his own flask of tea. He takes every precaution, Papa says, since those traitors tried to kill him. It seemed like the war had made him very old. It was the first time we saw how his hand trembles. I kept thinking he was going to spill his tea.
When he finished his tea and cake he wiped his mouth carefully with a napkin and patted his lap for Hedda to sit on it. I felt a mixture of relief and disappointment because before the war he always chose me to sit on his lap, and I used to hate it, but I didn’t like not being chosen either.

Christmas was sad, but at least we were together. Except for Harald. By now the mystery of Harald had been solved. He had been reported missing, and that’s why we didn’t have any letters, and Mummy thought that he might have been killed but she had kept her fears secret so that we didn’t get upset. Anyway, in the end, she heard that he’d been taken prisoner – luckily by the British. They are cruel bombers but kind to their prisoners, apparently. Strange. Anyway, Mummy was much happier once she’d had that news.

On Christmas Eve Mummy made a beautiful tree – white candles and gold and silver stars. We sat by the fire and everyone sang a song or told a story or a poem. Mummy played the piano. When Hedda recited her poem Papa started to cry. Miss Shroeter had taught it to her:

Then we listened to Papa’s Christmas broadcast on the radio, and that was full of hope too.  

Day Nine in the Bunker

Monday 30 April, 1945

I
can hear singing, like the voice of a sad angel. I can’t hear the words. It must be the middle of the night. No guns, no shells, no party music.

Porridge again for breakfast. Miss Manziarly dolloped it out silently. She’s got big bags under her eyes. Heide kept singing her song about the tall telephone man under her breath: “Misch, Misch, you are a fish.” She always sings it when we go past the switchboard. Luckily Mr. Misch finds it funny too. He has a wide smile. Heide says she has a sore throat but that doesn’t seem to stop her singing and chatting non-stop.

Mummy came but didn’t fancy porridge. She showed us a National Socialist party badge that Uncle Leader gave her last night. It’s a special gold one and a
great honour, she says.

There was a moment of excitement when Auntie Eva and Mummy came rushing through and dived into Mummy’s bedroom. I thought Auntie Eva would come to talk to us afterwards, but she just slipped back down to the Leader Bunker without even saying hello. Mummy stayed in her room for most of the morning and then she also went down to the Leader Bunker,
saying
she was going to see Papa.

There was no sign of anyone in the kitchen all
morning
. Miss Manziarly usually gives us lunch at about 12.30, but she didn’t come today. Heide and Hedda wanted to go and find Mummy and Papa, but I had a feeling that they wouldn’t want to be disturbed. In the end we went as far as the stairs down to the Leader Bunker and we sat on the landing looking out for someone to come. I don’t know how long we were there. Hilde brought her book, and sat reading it,
sucking
her cheeks. The rest of us just listened. We knew that something bad must have happened for everyone to forget about lunch. Now and then we heard footsteps, doors. Very little. Constant shelling. Then suddenly we heard the clatter of someone
running
in high heels, frantic knocking, and Mummy, screaming:

“Let me in! My Leader, please let me in! Please!”

“Go away!”

“Please, my Leader!”

“Go!”

We heard a door slam. Loud sobs. Mummy’s
footsteps
retreating.

Heide started crying. I held her and shushed her. Hilde put down her book and hugged up with Holde and Hedde. We listened for more. Eventually we heard the sound of more running footsteps and Mrs. Junge came breathlessly up the stairs.

“Oh my goodness, children! What are you doing here?”

“We’re waiting for lunch. Where is everyone?”

“Oh, everyone’s very busy today. Come on. I’ll get you some lunch. I’ll go and see what I can find in the kitchen. You must be starving.”

“Why is everyone so busy? What’s happening? What’s the matter with Mummy?”

“She’s fine. I think perhaps she slept badly and she’s a little tired.”

“Can we go and see her?”

“Not now. Sit up nicely at the table and stay in your seats whilst I find some food in the Chancellery
kitchens
.”

“Where’s Papa?”

“He’s busy, I believe. Now, there should be some bread.”

“Can we see Mummy and Papa?”

“I’ll go and see what’s in the kitchen.”

She came back from the Chancellery with some
bread and butter and a jar of preserved cherries. More like a breakfast than a lunch. I hope we’re not running out of food.  

Mrs. Junge didn’t stop talking.  

“Come on, eat up. Who needs help buttering? Holde, can you pass the butter knife to Hilde? Helmut, elbows off the table. Who wants some cherries? Heide, you must eat your crusts. Eat up, there’s more if you want it. Not now, Helga. It’s just a very busy day. Anyone for more bread? Water? Heide? Who needs help
buttering
?”  

I wanted to scream.  

Suddenly there was a loud bang – like a shot – much closer than anything before. For a moment I thought that the Russians must have broken into the bunker, but Helmut yelled “Bullseye!”, which made us all laugh, and after that Mrs. Junge was finally quiet.  

Me and Hilde helped clear up the plates, and then we went to our room for our rest. That horrid bitter marzipan smell has come back. It cuts the back of your throat and makes you feel sick right to the pit of your stomach.

There was no tea with Uncle Adi and Auntie Eva today. I wasn’t looking forward to it without Blondi and the puppies, but I still felt disappointed when no one came to get us.  

I really want to see Mummy now.  

Miss Manziarly came back to call us for supper. She
put the food on the table without saying anything: fried eggs and mashed potato. We didn’t mention lunch. Then she took a tray down for Uncle Leader. Mummy came to put us to bed. She gave Heide a red silk scarf to soothe her throat. We didn’t say anything about
earlier
. She must have had an argument with Uncle Leader. She said she had a headache and she asked me to read the bedtime story. She kissed the tops of our heads and left me in charge. I read
The Six Who Made Their Way in the World
again and we all snuggled up together. Then we turned out our own light and tried to sleep.

It turned out to be one of the noisiest nights we’ve had here. There was a drunken sing-song just outside our room. It seemed to go on all night. Raucous voices completely out of tune:
Everything ends, all the pain goes away, After each December comes another May
…

Over and over. Banging and laughing.
Raise high the flags! Comrades shot dead by the red
and something. March in spirit – loud belching –
Blood red roses
… I tried to keep the noise out by ducking down under the
covers
, pulling the pillow over my ears, and going off to Swan Island with my dusty soldier boy. 

1945

After Christmas it was decided that the Russian Front had got too close to Castle Lanke for safety. That’s not what we were told, obviously. We were told that the house on Swan Island had been empty for too long and that it was time for us to spend some time there. I knew the real reason from listening to the servants. And from the guns. You could hear the constant rumble from the front, which the others believed was thunder.

Papa and Mummy were in Berlin. Granny B. came for lunch each day. Pickled cabbage and ham usually. Quiet meals except for Helmut’s babble about Wonder Weapons and German superiority. None of the
grown-ups
had anything to say. Hubi gave us morning lessons – geometry and spelling and Norse myths. Miss Schroeter took the little ones. We stopped going to school because the roads were full of refugees. People fleeing from the East, escaping the Russians. Like the people on the train, they were mostly women and
children
. Women pushing prams piled high with blankets and pans and babies. Children in hats and overcoats dragging behind.

I couldn’t get to sleep at night. I’d lie in bed for hours. I kept thinking about the refugees and the Russians, and the longer I lay there the more scared I got. I kept getting up and going to find Hubi. In the end she let me spend the evenings dozing on the sofa
in the servants’ sitting room. I still couldn’t sleep, and I heard stories that gave me worse nightmares, but at least I didn’t feel so lonely. The servants’ sitting room was just off the kitchen. The cook and the maids and the governesses all sat around the kitchen table
drinking
beer. It was comforting to hear their chat. Until they dropped their voices, and I strained to hear the things I shouldn’t know.

The servants heard their stories from the refugees, who sometimes came to the kitchen for water or food. Terrible stories. Stories of women being forced to have Russian babies. And women who were thought to be pregnant with German babies having their bellies slit open and their babies torn out. Then the Russian
soldiers
would smash the babies’ heads against a wall or crush them under their boots. Miss Schroeter’s deep voice: “They are savages. Nothing but savages.”

It was during my evenings on the servants’ sofa that I learnt that the Russians are likely to win the war. They have taken back all the living space that Uncle Leader had won for us in the East, but they are not stopping at the old borders. They are trying to destroy us.

I heard the servants talking about escape plans. Mr. Speer had been trying to persuade Mummy and Papa to hide us on a barge on the river. Mr. Naumann had even got a barge ready and waiting near Swan Island, stocked with food and blankets. Hubi thought we
should go there, but Miss Schroeter thought it was a hopeless plan anyway. All the servants agreed that we should have been sent to Switzerland years ago. “How long will they be safe on Swan Island? A couple of months if they’re lucky!” They are all making their own plans for escape. Hubi wants to stay with us, as long as she can.

In the end Head Storm Leader Schwagermann and Upper Storm Leader Rach came to fetch us. Me and Hilde helped the little ones pack. We went to say
goodbye
to Granny Goebbels. She was sitting quietly in her black dress. Aunt Maria sat beside her. Aunt Maria has a deep frown line just off centre between her eyes, which I’ve never noticed before. “What’s the latest
nonsense
?” Granny G. asked us. We told her we were going to Swan Island. “Well, this is goodbye then.” In turn we kissed her wet cheeks.

We went in two cars. Hubi came in our car. Granny B. and Miss Schroeter went with the little ones. We joined the queue of refugees, the carts and the prams. We made slow progress, waiting for people to move aside for us. A big cart got stuck in a snow drift and Head Storm Leader Schwagermann had to get out and help push. It was a relief to be moving, to be heading, at least, in the right direction, to be doing something, to be part of a big crowd. Surely the Russians could never kill this many people.

We were on Swan Island most of the time between
Christmas and Easter. There was no school because the schools there had closed. A bit like being on holiday, except Miss Schroeter and Hubi carried on teaching us in the mornings. The rest of the time we played in the garden, making snowmen and then sloshing in puddles as the snow melted. You could hear the Russian guns getting closer and closer. Granny B. kept up the
pretence
that it was thunder. She sighed a lot and dabbed her face with her handkerchief.

Mummy visited. She arrived with pink cheeks from the cold. Huge squeezing cuddles. There was nothing to worry about. “Uncle Leader is the best leader in the world and he will defeat his enemies. Good will prevail. It will soon be over. We will soon have peace.” She put her large firm hands on my shoulders. I searched her big blue-grey eyes for evidence of whether she herself believed what she was saying. But I couldn’t see through the blue.

She stayed a couple of days. It was then that Mr. Speer and his secretary visited her. Perhaps they were trying to persuade her to hide us on the barge. I don’t know; what I do know is that she read to us, lined us up to sing, supervised instrument practice. I kept being hit with memories of being very young: her forcefully taking my hands to push fabric through the sewing machine, to stir heavy gingerbread dough with a
wooden
spoon; her being absolutely there, capable of
anything
and completely in charge. Somehow she’d lost
this amongst the flowers of her eiderdown. We hadn’t seen her strength for ages. Now it was back and for two days we had her full attention. Then she got into the black car and vanished back to Papa in Berlin. We stayed on with Hubi and Miss Schroeter and Granny B. Waiting for something. Waiting, in fact, though we didn’t know it, for Mummy’s telephone call
summoning
us to Berlin. Us being us children. Not Hubi, not Miss Schroeter, not Granny B.

She called on Hubi’s day off. Miss Schroeter and Granny B. helped us pack. We were told not to bring much. We each had to choose one toy. So we knew we wouldn’t be going for long. Still, I had a lump in my throat because we weren’t going to be able to say
goodbye
to Hubi. We all chose our dolls except Helmu, who chose a toy tank. Granny B. was crying the whole time, which didn’t help. “If only I could see her once more.” Holde patted Granny B. on the back. “The war’s nearly over, Granny B.,” she said “You can see Mummy again once the war’s over.”