Chocolate Cake With Hitler (7 page)

1940

We went to Castle Lanke, Papa’s official country house, for New Year. Swan Island is our private one. I prefer the private one.

The weather was absolutely freezing. Thick, crusty snow which squeaked when you walked on it. Papa and Mummy gave us new toboggans for Christmas – really good ones, big enough for grown-ups to go on. Papa came with us. He was the fastest, but he got really angry when he fell off. We had to make sure we didn’t laugh.

Mummy doesn’t like tobogganing, but she came with us for a sleigh ride in the forest. We covered
ourselves
in fur rugs. When it snows the forest around Castle Lanke becomes a fairyland. The tall dark trees, draped in their snow shawls, stoop like old witches. After a bit the whiteness begins to hurt your eyes. Back home we had hot chocolate by the fire and Papa told us stories about when he was little.

“My earliest memories are of nightmares, of lying feverish in bed, one minute thinking that the walls were moving in to crush me, the next minute feeling myself stuck in sinking mud, unable to free my feet. I remember the room. Heavy green curtains that turned to trees in my dreams. Strangling ferns and fronds on the wallpaper. I must have been about four. I had a bone disease. My right foot developed a terrible cramp,
a searing pain. I can remember lying in bed and
concentrating
my very hardest to move my toes. It was impossible. Whenever I smell almond oil I feel myself back on that bed, staring at the ceiling, as my mother rubbed and pummelled my leg.

“And then there were the doctors’ appointments. So much sitting and waiting on hard seats below high
windows
you could never see out of. All I wanted to do was run about like other children. I remember we even made the journey to Bonn, to the University Medical School. My mother told me that we were going to see the clevyouerest doctors in the world. I had to lie on a bed with my trousers off surrounded by a dozen young men who took turns at lifting and pinching my foot to see what I could feel. But could they help me? Not a bit. They came up with this clumpy contraption that was meant to hold my foot straight and help me to walk. Ha. That went down well at school. The Little Cripple looked just the part with his orthopaedic appliance.

“My mother, of course, like any good Catholic woman, looked to God as well as to doctors in her search for a cure. Every day after school, while the other boys ran off to play football, the Little Cripple was met at the school gates by his mother, who took his hand and walked him down to St. Mary’s church. We would kneel together in this cold dark cavern for up to an hour. I knelt in silence, hiding my face in my hands, as my mother, over and over again, beseeched ‘Our Lady,
to pray for us to the Lord our God’.

“‘What have I done to deserve this punishment, oh Lord? Please forgive me my sins and the sins of my son. Have mercy, Lord, and remove this evil from us. Dear Jesus, healer of the sick, restore your servant to health. We beg for forgiveness. Have mercy, Lord.’

“I remember one particular day. It was summer, a beautiful day, the kind of day I most resented spending in the gloomy church. As we went out into the street we met a large lady called Mrs. Backer who ran the Sunday school.

“‘Good afternoon, Mrs. Goebbels. Praying to the good Lord in your affliction again? If anyone deserves forgiveness it is you, Mrs. Goebbels. No one could question your devotion. Still the Lord moves in
mysterious
ways. Who are we to understand the trials and punishments he sends us?’

“‘Indeed, Mrs. Backer,’ my mother replied. ‘Prayer is a great comfort to me. But you know Josef’s foot was hurt in a simple accident. It was not sent as an
affliction
. He caught his foot in the slats of a bench when I was lifting him. A silly accident, but not a punishment, Mrs. Backer – a human error, not a divine
intervention
.’

“‘Indeed, Mrs. Goebbels. I didn’t mean to imply…’

“As we hurried home I asked my mother to tell me the story of the slatted bench. I had never heard this before. My mother shushed me until we were
inside and then she explained.

“‘There are ignorant people in this town,’ she said. ‘People who believe that God sends illness to punish evil. If I tell them it is my fault that you’re a cripple, they can call us stupid, they can call us careless, but they can’t call us evil.’

“When I was ten my mother found a doctor who thought that he could cure my foot by an operation to reshape it. The bone would be broken and reset straight. I would be able to walk normally.

“After the operation I had three weeks’ rest in the hospital. I was not allowed to leave my bed. I thought I would die of boredom, but my godmother and aunt Christina came to visit me on the second day and she brought me a present which quite honestly changed my life. It was a book of fairy tales. I had never read a fairy tale before – now I devoured them – Hansel and Gretl, Snow White and Rose Red, Rapunzel… I read them and reread them. These stories awakened my love of reading. I asked the nurses to bring me anything they could find for me to read – even old newspapers, I didn’t care if I could understand or not. I just wanted to read. My father immediately realised that my love of reading could be a great advantage, and he brought me an encyclopaedia. I read it from cover to cover and, when at last I returned to school, I reaped the rewards. Suddenly I was a clever boy. I knew more than anyone else in the class. I was no longer just a sad cripple. I was
someone to respect, someone who could help the other boys with their homework, someone the teachers liked. At last, I had a future. The operation, of course, had been a failure.”

In Berlin we used to have a maid called Gerda. She was one of those people who always look a bit grubby no matter how hard they try. It used to drive Mummy mad. Strands of hair would always escape her bun. Her stockings would always ladder. Her fingernails were always dirty. Mummy said she was a slut and had to be kept out of sight of guests; she just did fires and
cleaning
, but Mummy kept Gerda because she was strong and could get a better shine on the brass than any of the other maids. We all liked Gerda because if no one else was around she would let us do things that were normally forbidden – like bouncing on beds – or she’d sneak us up biscuits from the kitchen, even if it was just before lunch and we were supposed to be saving our appetites. I always felt a bit awkward, half glad to have the treat, yet feeling guilty that we were disobeying Mummy behind her back, but the little ones simply adored her, especially Hilde.

One day we were playing in the dining room and we heard terrible screaming coming from the kitchen. Nanny came in and shooed us up to our bedroom. She wouldn’t tell us a thing. She wasn’t one of my favourite
nannies that one. Very thin and screechy. The next day there was no sign of Gerda and we never saw her again.

No one would tell me what had happened. I heard Nanny saying that she’d brought it on herself, falling for a Jew boy – and personally she thought it was a good thing that Mr. Goebbels was clearing Berlin of these undesirable elements. We got a new maid, Elvira, and her hair was so tidy that you could see the comb marks in it. I heard her telling Nanny that there was no way she was going to lose her head over a boy and stick it in an oven. I had this image of Gerda cutting off her head and cooking it. I begged Cook to explain what had happened, but she would only tell me that Gerda was fine, I wasn’t to worry, but she was a silly girl and Mummy was quite right to send her packing. “We can’t be having any more dramatics.” All Mummy would say was that Gerda was a weak and selfish girl and we were better off without her. Weak was the one thing I thought Gerda wasn’t.

I remember Heide being born. It was late at night and we were all in bed. It was Papa’s birthday and he was having a party downstairs. Loud gramophone music and loud laughter, Papa’s laughter being the loudest of all. Earlier in the evening we’d looked down over the banister and watched the guests arrive – beautiful
actresses in beautiful dresses. Mummy wasn’t there. She’d been in hospital for weeks, partly because of being pregnant and partly because of her bad heart. Suddenly Papa came bursting into the nursery.

“Wake up! Wake up! Mummy’s had a baby. We’re going to see her. Nanny, coats on top of nighties.”

“Is it a boy?” Helmut had been longing for a
brother
.

“No, Helmut, it’s a little girl. I’m afraid you and me and Harald are completely outnumbered. Let’s go.”

I remember there was a car waiting for us, but it hadn’t warmed up. We only had our night things under our coats so we shivered all the way to the hospital. Mummy was propped up in bed. She started crying when we went in. Papa told her to “Buck up, sweetie” and left us to comfort her while he went in search of a nurse to fetch the baby. He came back with the baby in his arms and started dancing around the room. “Josef, please, you’ll disturb her. You’re not at a party now.”

Papa carried on dancing. The baby didn’t wake up. In the end he gave her to Mummy to hold and we were able to get a proper look. Her face was all squashed up and chinless. Mummy told us that she was going to be called Heide and Helmut raced around the room shrieking “Heide, Heide, Hi diddly dee!”

Mummy started crying again. Papa said it was time to go home.

Day Five in the Bunker

Thursday 26 April, 1945

A
fter a whole day without anyone new coming into the bunker – which made me think that we were completely cut off from the rest of Germany and from safety in our strange bunker world – today brought a dramatic arrival.

We were playing with the puppies in Auntie Eva’s room – I don’t know where Auntie Eva was, but Liesl was there doing the ironing – when we heard a
commotion
in the corridor, shouting and doors banging, and before Liesl could stop us, we ran out to have a look at what was going on. There were six soldiers carrying a stretcher. Beside them was a little woman with a very loud voice yelling orders: “Move on! Get out of the way! Where’s the doctor?” She was wearing a massive leather jacket that didn’t fit her at all, a man’s jacket, I think, on top of a very torn flying suit. The soldiers
carried the stretcher into the doctor’s room at the end of the corridor. We saw Dr. Stumpfegger hurrying down from the Upper Bunker. He has a very strange run; it all happens below the knees while his upper body remains completely still. He gives me the creeps. He is very tall and skinny and pale, as if he is barely alive, and his eyes are always cast down at the floor. Mummy says he’s one of the cleverest doctors in the world.

On the stretcher was a large man shielding his eyes with one hand. We could only really see the top of his balding head and his thin grey hair. His body was
covered
by a blood-stained army blanket. Liesl quickly scooped us back into Auntie Eva’s room. She didn’t know who these visitors were. My first thought was that if these people had been able to get in then it must still be possible for us to get out. And then I thought it looked like it had nearly killed them to get here.

Eventually Auntie Eva came back to her room. Mummy was with her. It turns out that the bossy little woman is Hanna Reitsch. Which makes sense. You probably need to be the world’s greatest pilot to get past the Russian anti-aircraft guns. Mummy says she’s incredibly brave. I’ve seen her in news films, she can do amazing stunts, but I didn’t recognise her. If anyone could fly us out of here, I reckon she could. Unfortunately, Auntie Eva says that Flight Captain Reitsch (apparently she insists on being called Flight Captain and won’t
answer to Miss) plans to stay beside the Leader until the end of the war. She also told us that the injured man is another top pilot – General Robert Ritter von Greim. Maybe he could get us out, if he recovers in time. Auntie Eva and Mummy say that Dr. Stumpfegger will be able to stitch up the General.

Flight Captain Reitsch was sitting on the sofa next to Uncle Leader when we went down to tea. Foxl was on her lap, but I’m glad to say he jumped down and came waggling towards me as soon as we came in. The Flight Captain had washed and changed and was wearing a dress of Auntie Eva’s that was ridiculously big and dragging over her feet. She is really tiny except for her teeth, which we saw a lot of as she guffawed at Blondi’s tricks.

She told us the story of her journey here. The General had received the Leader’s summons to the
bunker
and had ordered Reitsch to come with him. They set off from Munich in a tiny plane called a
Focke-Wulf
. The same pilot who had brought Mr. Speer here agreed to fly them to Berlin. There was only just room for the pilot and one passenger, so the General squeezed in next to the pilot and Flight Captain Reitsch had to lie down on the floor in the tail of the plane. They flew very low and they had 40 Luftwaffe fighter planes
flying
beside them to protect them. By the time they arrived at Gatow airport on the edge of Berlin, nearly all the fighter planes had been shot down. At Gatow
they got into an even smaller plane, one which would be small enough to land in the middle of Berlin. The General took the controls and Flight Captain Reitsch sat beside him. The pilot refused to come any further. They flew so low that they could see the faces of the soldiers fighting in the streets below. Suddenly some Russians turned their guns on the plane. The bullets ripped right through the side of the plane and hit the General’s foot. Flight Captain Reitsch had to lean over him and grab the controls. Amazingly, she managed to land the plane from the passenger seat.

Helmut was very excited. He now says he wants to be a pilot, like Harald. Hanna Reitsch promised him that she would teach him to fly after the war.

Apparently Uncle Leader had told her that we were wonderful singers so she got us to sing “Night Silence” and “Can You Count the Stars?”. Auntie Eva had a headache and went for a rest after “Night Silence”, which was lucky because Heide then volunteered a solo performance of “Ladybird, Ladybird”, which was a high-pitched racket.

Hanna Reitsch guffawed some more and asked if she would be allowed to put us to bed because she would love to teach us some more songs. Mummy said, “Yes – but no more exciting stories – the children need to be calm at bedtime.”

Auntie Eva recovered from her headache and came with Hanna Reitsch to put us to bed. I wished it had
been Mummy, but she was resting.

First of all Flight Captain Reitsch taught us the dwarves’ yodelling song from
Snow White
, which was all ho-de-lays and yodels. Helmut got hysterical giggles so she tried to calm us down with a rather childish lullaby.

We sang it through once together and then she divided us into two groups and we sang it as a two-part harmony. We had to stick our fingers in our ears so that we didn’t get confused by what the others were singing. She says that we should sing it to Uncle Leader
tomorrow
.

After the singing she tucked us all in. I asked her, really quietly so that I wouldn’t put ideas in the others’ heads, whether she thought it would be possible to fly
us out of here. She said she thought that this was the best place to be. She wants to stay here herself and
support
Uncle Leader, but even if she did have to fly out on his orders, it would be in a tiny plane and it would be impossible for her to take us with her.

Everyone keeps saying that this is the best place to be, an honour to be with the Leader and so on, and nobody seems to be thinking about what we will do if our troops don’t manage to force back the Russians.

Flight Captain Reitsch turned out the light and left us. I can’t get the yodelling tune out of my head.