Any Survivors (2008) (26 page)

‘Step hard on his foot,’ I whispered to the Baron, ‘but try not to break any bones. And don't make a fuss if you don't see me for a few minutes afterwards.’

‘Don't be a fool, Gotthold,’ the Baron demanded, feeling the apprehension that we all felt. But he did as he was told and stomped hard on the guard's foot, catching him as he started to fall and apologising profusely for his clumsiness. Just imagine how heavy the Baron was. In those few seconds in which Edgar could neither see nor hear I was able to slip out through another door. As this door closed I found myself alone in the hallway. Another step closer!

I had deemed it absolutely necessary to separate myself from my friends for this conversation. An audience would only have hindered me. I could picture my friends saying, as I got to the end of my ground-breaking, world-changing speech: ‘Take no notice of him and his views. He is an okay guy but a little under the weather at the moment.’ No, I had to see him on my own. Sadly, many things are easier when you imagine them. Breaking into and navigating an unknown house was more difficult than I had expected. We had all had a glass of beer in the first waiting room, so I thought it would be a good idea to go to the toilet before anything else. If I could find one, that is. Who knows how long my conversation would last if I really did manage to captivate his interest and, after describing my vision, he did make me his personal witness to the dispositions for cancelling the war. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to interrupt the earnest debate with the words: ‘Excuse me, my Führer, I’ll be right back. I'm just going to the toilet.’

I was still standing on my own, which was unusually lucky in this house that was fiercely guarded. On the other side of the hall there was a door covered in the same wallpaper as in the hallway, very discreet looking. I thought this must be what I was looking for. I also thought it would be a good idea to get as far away from the door to the second waiting room as possible. The shepherd may decide to count his flock and find me missing, and go on the lookout for me. I stepped forward and opened the wallpapered door. There was no handle but the door opened inward with a little pressure. It was not what I was looking for, that much was certain. It appeared to be a telephone switchboard. I forced my head and upper body through the small gap and looked around with great interest. In this tiny room there were three female operators on low swivel chairs. Just behind them there was a man on a higher chair with a backrest who looked like he was supervising them. They rapidly connected and disconnected the wire cords on the exchange switchboard, speaking in short monotonous sentences, no one raising their voice. I was trying to hear what they were saying as they were now talking about the Führer, but I was interrupted in a painful and surprising way.

The part of my body I had left precariously in the hallway was given a hard kick up the backside. I flew inside the cell, landing on my hands and feet. Tears of pain shot into my eyes. I could just hear a voice from the hallway: ‘
Schweinekerl
, you swine of a man! That will teach you to stop halfway through the doorway. You know we have visitors and anyone could have seen you.’ The door closed behind me.

‘Serves you right,’ the
Ober-telephonist
remarked. ‘How often have we told you all that no one is meant to find out about this door? But if you must insist that you know better then you need to feel the consequences.’

‘But I …’ I wanted to defend myself. With a ‘
kusch
’ he silenced me. ‘You are seven minutes early. Stay standing and wait for your shift!’

The telephone operators were wearing dark blue overalls, not dissimilar to my uniform. But even if I had been wearing a suit of silver brocade they would not have noticed as there were no windows and only very faint lighting. Not one of them had turned around to take a closer look at me. They were fully engrossed in their duties. And very interesting their work was, too.

‘
Achtung, Achtung
,’ telephone operator No 1 said into his receiver. ‘Armed sentry in the stairway statue. Take down your weapon, the Führer has passed your position.’ There was no answer. I doubted there was enough space in the statue for a speech transmitter. ‘Machine gun sentry near the stone balustrade,’ he continued. ‘
Achtung, Achtung
, the Führer is walking past. Confirm your position!’

Telephone operator No 2: ‘Stone balustrade reports: “The Führer is walking past, accompanied by an unknown man and an unknown woman, both in civilian clothes.”’

The controller checked his slip of paper. He was shortsighted and had to hold the paper very close to his eyes. ‘Neutral diplomat and his wife,’ he read out. Visitor number 83 for 4.45 p.m.’ He instructed telephone operator No 3 to check with the x-ray department. ‘Hello, x-ray. Please report results for visitor 83.’

‘Man carrying key-ring, wristwatch, two spare buttons on the inside of his lapel, one collar button, to the front fountain pen of unusual dimensions. Officially reported to the magician, because of fountain pen.’

Officially reported to the magician? Now I had it! I was beside myself with joy. One of the strange characters sitting with us in the first waiting room looked terribly familiar, and I was trying to work out where I knew him from and could not put my finger on it. Now I knew. It must have been from a circus somewhere in the world. When one travels around so much, it becomes impossible to remember the circuses one has been to. I now remember that it must have been a Sunday matinee performance. There was a magician who invited various gentlemen up to the podium and stole everything they had on them without their noticing. I had been called up too. He had nicked my India rubber and a small bag of malt sweets; there was nothing else in my pockets. Although I prided myself on being very sensitive, I did not feel a thing. And this man was now working here.

‘Control to magician,’ was the last thing I heard. It took a while for the magician to respond, as he was probably busy stealing something.

Then came his answer: ‘Fountain pen passed to chemical inspection unit.’

‘Control to chemical inspection unit.’

‘No vitriol, no poison found; the ink is normal but of foreign provenance. Refilled pen and hidden in seat of the diplomat's car.’

‘X-ray department reporting: diplomat's wife could not be screened yet,’ telephone operator No 3 added. This caused much commotion and upheaval. Instructions went to all armed sentries in the park. ‘Prepare to fire – keep your eyes on the diplomat's wife!’ The three telephone operators repeated the command to the sentry posts: ‘Position report!’ All three repeated: ‘Position report!’

The report from the sentry post stationed in a tree hollow came through: ‘Führer leaving grid reference 13b and entering 15b. Woman walking to the right of the Führer, one metre's distance, man following three steps behind.’ There was a map hanging above the switchboard, divided neatly into squares. If they had let us see the map in the beginning I would not have struggled to find the toilet in the first place and ended up here.

‘Sentry post in the garden shed is asking to speak to you directly, sir!’ operator No 2 said, passing her receiver to the supervisor. The man completely lost his composure. ‘Arm in arm, you say! The lady and the Führer are walking arm in arm! No, you must not shoot. You might scare the Führer. No, wait for a sign from the adjutant. What are you saying, the lady has asked the adjutant to go and cut her a branch with fir cones? Shoo … No, wait a moment.’ We all held our breath. Then came the release. ‘Adjutant back in position. Group on their way back on the same route. Führer has let go of the lady,’ the tree hollow sentry reported, and we all breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Führer entering grid reference 11a.’

Things were improving. ‘Sentry post in the bushes!’ the supervisor demanded. He personally instructed, ‘
Achtung
, the Führer is approaching with his guests. Set the four blackbirds free, just by the side of the path.’ There was a problem. He appeared to be scolding them. ‘Set them free just by the side of the path, don't you understand? We only need one of them to hop into the path. Who cares if one of them got trampled last time; are they your blackbirds? What do you know about political tensions? If a single person has so much responsibility you can't expect him to always watch where he is going?’

‘They want to speak to you,’ said No 3. He took the receiver. ‘Yes sir, Herr Standartenführer, leader of the guards; the child is indeed in the glass house and has been waiting there for three hours. I hope the flowers have not wilted. May I suggest that we do not always use the same child – even if it is good at what it does? The guests like to take photographs and then they end up writing books about it; it is easy to see it's the same child in all the pictures. Of course, Herr Standartenführer, no need to thank me. It was only a small suggestion in the interest of our service. There is no criticism.’ It seemed to me that you had to be particularly subservient in this business. ‘
Jawohl
, Herr Standartenführer,’ he said finally. ‘I will make sure someone blows the child's nose before it walks up to the Führer to present him with the flowers. Put me through to the sentry post in the bushes.’

I had lost track of who was connecting who but it did not seem to make a difference anyway.

‘Put your weapons down. Creep up to the glass house and go up to the child …’ he repeated the command. ‘What? You have the nerve to tell me that this is not what you are here for? You are here to kill, you say … not to train blackbirds or blow children's noses? So, since there's no one to kill this afternoon you think it's okay to refuse your duties? Understood; end of conversation.’

‘Put me through to the leader of the guard again!’ he said and reported the incident. ‘Fine,’ he said, ‘I agree completely. You will put the man under arrest once he is relieved from his post. Of course you are right, Herr Standartenführer, why should we risk lives unnecessarily? I will make sure he is arrested after he has handed in his machine gun.’

This was fascinating. I could have listened for hours but then the door opened, closed again, and a man in a blue overall came in. ‘Replacement for telephone operator No 1 reporting for duty!’

Now the supervisor looked at me more closely. ‘What are you doing here?’ he shouted. ‘Caught you red-handed, you spy! This is the end for you!’

‘You did not let me explain,’ I shouted back bravely. ‘I was pushed in here with force. Don't shout at me. I am a knight of the Iron Cross First Class, naval hero and guest of honour!’

‘
Achtung
,’ No 1 said, about to finish her shift. ‘Waiting room No 4 on the ground floor is calling. One of the petty officers of the U-XY is lost. We have to patrol the hallway.’

‘Tell them we have found him. His escort can come and get him.’ He looked at me, his eyes full of hatred. I'm sure he wanted to kick me, but he was too lazy to get up from his seat. I wasn't sure if he was even allowed to leave his position.

Our friend Edgar opened the door, grabbed my sleeve and pulled me out into the hallway. ‘The Gestapo has already instructed me to keep a close eye on you, especially here in Schloss Berghof,’ he said, ‘but you are worse than I thought. What on earth are you doing here? Oh, I see. Third door on the left. No, you may not go on your own. I am coming with you. It is nearly our turn, the others are waiting by the stairs but I would rather let them all wait than let you out of my sight for even a second. Let's go!’

***

‘All follow me! Up the stairs, keep up and smile! Come on, smile! We aren't going to a funeral!’ I was walking next to a sailor I didn't know too well. There was no point in sharing the fact that the bronze statue, complete with sword and hammer, was concealing an armed sentry. A plush red carpet runner was fixed with brass rods. Matching shiny red marble from Salzburg abounded in the staircase. We all held our breath at the sight of such magnificence. Even I was subdued. The speech I had prepared to change the Führer's thinking was composed in a relatively humble environment where cheap wallpaper and wobbly stools were the norm. It did not fit in here where expensive Gobelin tapestry adorned the walls with all the wood-panelling, the marble fireplace, priceless paintings in gold frames and wonderfully soft club chairs. Like sheep we were herded along, our feet sinking into the thick pile of the carpet. We were not even sure if we were staying inside or making our way outside. One side of the hallway had a glass wall. In the autumn light, the hallway was flooded with the afternoon sun's rays. Mountains and clouds seemed within arm's reach. Our personal guide and a few of his colleagues placed us around a circular table, where coffee and cake were served. They forced us into the soft armchairs while they remained standing behind us. No one touched a morsel for the moment.

I was sitting comfortably in a damask armchair. Next to me on a soft bench covered in brownish-gold brocade, the Baron, the Student and another sailor were seated, all waiting quietly and subdued as if they had been hit by a meat hammer on the head. ‘Don't be shy, talk to each other, look happy,’ our chaperone ordered, but no one could muster as much as a smile. The more cultured of us quietly discussed the blacksmith work and stonemasonry of the fireplace. The Baron was teasing the Student, who was eyeing the framed, naked Venus lounging on her purple cloak. It was difficult to hold a real conversation. We heard a movement behind us but no one dared to turn around.

Now our guard whispered to us: ‘Stand up! Not all at the same time. Casually, one after the other. Look towards the window and stand to attention discreetly.’

There was an enormous mirrored table with no drawers. No one had noticed anyone sitting there when we entered the room. Now there was a broad-shouldered man, his head held unnaturally, browsing through books and papers. As soon as we were all standing, the man turned his face towards us, concealed in shadow, and his high metallic voice toned monotonously: ‘My dear sailors, your Führer welcomes you!’

We no longer worried about what we had to do next. We were sure Edgar would tell us what to do in whispered tones. We were not let down. We heard a quiet ‘Sit down again, one after the other. Look happy, eat, drink something; talk to one another. One after the other you will be called up to speak to the Führer.’