Chocolate Cake With Hitler (9 page)

“So she arrived home out of the blue, early one morning, having travelled overnight. She announced that she had no intention of going back to finishing school. I was naturally concerned.

“‘It doesn’t matter what you say, there is no question of me going back to that place.’

“‘But Magda, your father has spent a great deal of money to send you there. You can’t just throw away this opportunity. You don’t know how lucky you are to be living in the beautiful Harz mountains. Most Berlin girls would give their eye teeth to have such an
experience
.’

“‘The beautiful Harz mountains! Oh yes, we’ve had some lovely walks in the mountains. In the mist. The only thing I’ve seen of the Harz mountains is the shoes of the girl climbing in front of me. I’ve greater things in my sights. As you will see.’

“The following weekend your mother and I were invited to visit Gunther Quandt at his lakeside villa. Grandpa Friedlander was now well enough to be left, but not well enough to join us so there was no
embarrassment
in the fact that he was not invited.

“The villa was out of this world. An elegant mansion with windows reaching from floor to ceiling looking out over immaculate parkland stretching down to the lake. ‘My dear,’ I whispered to Magda, ‘I understand the attraction.’

“It was the wrong thing to say. She took me aside, glaring furiously, ‘Make no mistake, Mother, I won’t marry him if I don’t love him.’

“But she did. They announced their engagement that summer, on his 39th birthday. He was now a little more than twice her age. He was a widow. His wife had died in the influenza epidemic after the war. He had
two sons, Helmut and Herbert, eleven and thirteen at the time, I think.  

“They married in January 1921. Your half-brother Harald was born later that year. Your mother converted to Protestantism to marry Gunther and she changed her surname before the wedding. She married as Magda Ritschel. Gunther didn’t want to marry a woman with a Jewish name. Things had become difficult between myself and Grandpa Friedlander and in fact, we parted at much the same time. It was becoming impossible to carry on. The world had changed. The position of Jews had changed. Gunther didn’t want a Jew at the
wedding
. He didn’t want to be associated with them. I had to decide between my daughter’s world and my
husband’s
world – obviously my daughter had to come first.”

I think it was when I was about eight that Uncle Leader’s war really started affecting our lives. Before that there’d been a bit of bombing, which I thought was quite exciting, but from this point the war became annoying. We had to go and stay with the Goerings in Upper Salt Mountain. Mummy thought that we weren’t getting enough sleep because of the air raids in Berlin.

The Goerings are ghastly. Luckily Empire Marshall Goering – Uncle Herman, as we were told to call him – was hardly ever there. He is disgustingly fat; he always
has little globs of sweat on his pudgy face and he breathes really loudly as if he’s about to die. Auntie Emmy, the High Lady, as all the servants call her, is all silk and talcum powder and wafts in and out of rooms in flowing lavender dresses. When she talks she pats her hair and gazes into the distance and her words float away before you can catch them. Most of the time she was away too, visiting her older children in Switzerland. Eddakins, their golden girl, was about three years old then. Silly little curls and vile spoilt behaviour.

Their house in Upper Salt Mountain appears to be on top of the world. Even though you look out over huge snowy mountains you feel like you are in the sky. The house itself is like an enormous cottage, something out of a fairy tale on the outside, but inside everything is modern and plush – lots of rugs and unnecessary
little
tables and glass ashtrays which you aren't allowed to touch. There are lawns and woods, a swimming pool. Supposedly everything you might want. I don’t know why it’s horrible but it is.

We’d only been there two days when Mummy told us at breakfast that she would have to leave after lunch to go to her clinic in Dresden to rest her heart. I just remember feeling completely sick. None of the others seemed to be listening. She said, “Miss Oda will look after you until I am well enough to come back. It won’t be long.” But it was obvious it would be.

We all hated Miss Oda. We nicknamed her Ear
Phones because she had a spiral of plaited hair wound over each ear, and she was such a phoney. She was always really polite in front of Mummy or the Goerings, and then really rude when they weren’t there. She called Auntie Emmy a Jew lover. “The High Lady’s
abandoned
us, hasn’t she, Eddakins? Swanned off to her Jew friends and left us with these young hooligans. Nobody asked me if I could look after them. No. Mummy and Papa can’t cope with the little darlings so they dump them on us. I’m worn out with running round after refugees. Do I get any thanks? No. And as for Little Miss (that was me) – she thinks she’s the cat’s whiskers. She’s a sly little devil, blubbing on the phone to Mummykins, making out she’s all hard done by. Spoilt to death, if you ask me.”

Edda Goering was just as horrid and always trying to get us into trouble: “Odie, Odie, Helmut’s being mean to me.” Odie Ear Phones always believed her and Helmut would be sent to stand in the corner. It was so unfair. He would try really hard not to cry because if there was the slightest hint of tears, Ear Phones would start singing:

Mummy phoned once a week. Sometimes Papa phoned.

“Mummy,” I’d whisper, “Miss Oda is really mean.”

“Come on, Helga. Don’t tell tales. Have you had fun tobogganing?”

“I hate it here. Why can’t we come back to Berlin? I don’t mind the air raids.”

“Helga. There is a war on. We all have to make
sacrifices
. Now don’t make a fuss, I don’t want you upsetting the others. Can I speak to Holde now?

Every day we had the same routine. Morning lessons with Mrs. Kleinwort, who was 200 years old and walked with a stick that she tapped on the floor angrily if someone, usually Helmut, wasn’t paying attention. She had a quavery voice and she was always saying, “Come, come, come, we studied this yesterday.” Mornings lasted for ever.

Lunch was the highlight of the day. There were always puddings – apple strudel, rice pudding, jam tarts, all served with lots of thick yellow cream. At home our food was rationed, like everyone else’s in Germany. Mummy explained that the English were
trying
to starve us by stopping food ships from reaching Germany, so all the food in the country had to be shared fairly, to make sure everyone had something. Papa had even announced on the radio that anyone who ate more than their ration would be executed. It’s very serious. If we don’t share fairly Germans will die. Butter, milk, eggs, meat and jam are all rationed and each person only gets a tiny bit. At home Cook has
sorted out the fridge so that we all have our own
section
for keeping our rations to make sure that we don’t eat up each other’s. Actually, it isn’t fair because Heide and Hedda and Holde get more milk and eggs because they’re younger, which I think is ridiculous because I’ve got a much bigger tummy to fill.

Anyway, no one seems to have told the Goerings that they will be killed if they don’t stick to rations. They have an endless supply of butter and cream and milk from their farm – and lots of other things we hadn’t been able to have for ages, like bananas and oranges and sweets and chocolates. I don’t know where they get them from. I decided to make the most of it, while we were there, and not feel too guilty, because I couldn’t really take my dollop of cream down the mountain to the villagers – and also food was the only thing to look forward to at the Goerings’.

After lunch every day we would have a rest – I never needed to sleep but there was absolutely nothing to read – there are no good books in the Goering house and we soon got through the ones we took with us. Then we would have an hour of compulsory outdoor play, whatever the weather. Edda was usually able to wriggle out of it – or rather whine out of it – but we never were. This was followed by a huge tea of
chocolate
or apple cake, sometimes jam doughnuts, even ginger biscuits. Then instrument practice, indoor play, bread and butter and cocoa and finally bath and bed.
Exactly the same every day. No outings. No surprises. So an awful lot of time to think about how much I was missing Mummy and Papa.

We all shared one big nursery room with six beds in it, and little Edda had her own bedroom and bathroom, all painted pink. By her bed was a massive photograph of the hundreds of airplanes that flew over Berlin to celebrate her birth. Her father arranged this big display because he was head of the air force.

Mummy was gone ages. When she left us there it was winter, when she came back it was summer. When she finally came, she came to take us away. I don’t know what made her realise at last that we couldn’t bear it.

Our next home was in a little spa town called Bad Aussee. We arrived on a beautiful sunny day and all the people in the town came out to greet us. The main road was lined with people waving swastika flags and they clapped and cheered and Hail Hitlered as we drove past.

Bad Aussee seemed like a toy town. Nothing had been blitzed or damaged. The houses were brightly painted white and blue and yellow: large square town houses; tall hotels for the visitors who came to take the waters; churches with huge pointed steeples matching the huge pointed mountains all around. Everything could have been in one of Helmut’s drawings. There
was a great big river running through the middle of the town and our new Nanny, Rosi, took us for walks beside it to feed the ducks. Not that we had much food to spare for the ducks. We were back on rations, but much happier than at the Goerings’. Papa visited us for a couple of days and when he and Mummy left, the little ones clung to him. He called them limpets. I was the only one who managed not to cry. Papa said he was very proud of me for being so grown-up.

Day Six in the Bunker

Friday 27 April, 1945

W
aking up is like dropping a stone. For a split second I have nothing more than a vague sense of being me and then I remember where we are. Check the shadows. Check the sounds. Can I hear Russian voices? How loud are the guns? Is the ventilation
working
?

Then there’s always the question of whether or not to turn on the light to find out the time. I don’t do it because it could still be the middle of the night and I don’t want to wake up all the others. So I hold tight and wait and wait and wait for the sound of Mrs. Junge’s quick, light steps.

We got dressed quite quietly today by our standards. No running around or larking from Heide or Helmut.

Porridge for breakfast. I tried to get away with just pushing it around the bowl but Mrs. Junge noticed, so
I pulled myself together and put a small spoonful of the ugly grey lumps into my mouth and I have to admit it wasn’t as bad as I expected. A bit watery, but I added a ton of sugar and it was actually alright. It’s nice that we can have as much sugar as we like here.

After breakfast Papa came up from the Leader Bunker and gave us all a pat on the head. He told us two jokes. “How many gears on a Russian tank? Four: one forward, three reverse.” “Why do French tanks have rear view mirrors? So that they can watch the
battle
.” They made Helmut laugh.

Papa repeated his little speech about how we are an example to all Germans because we are showing our loyalty to the Leader at this dark hour. History will remember us and respect our bravery. He says he announced all this to the German people on the radio. Then he was off, back down to the Leader Bunker to shut himself up with his secretary, Mr. Naumann. Mr. Naumann never comes up to our bunker, which is strange considering he’s been Mummy’s “rock” and
living
with us for most of the last year.

Liesl came to tidy our room so I went in to chat to her. She likes to get the bedcovers completely flat and once she’s satisfied that every wrinkle has been removed she gives the bed a little pat of congratulation before moving on to the next one. When she was done she sat down on one of the lower bunks and I sat on the floor in front of her so she could brush out both my plaits
and make new ones. I asked her what she thought was going to happen. She thinks it’s still possible to get out, but she says that Uncle Leader has to stay and guard the capital, and Auntie Eva has to stay and look after Uncle Leader, and she has to stay and look after Auntie Eva. I told her Papa said we had to stay to show our loyalty to the Leader, and she nodded.

“Can Auntie Eva help you get news from Peter? Surely she could find out from one of the generals where his regiment is?”

“Oh no. I wouldn’t bother Auntie Eva with my
worries
. She has enough troubles of her own.”

“Really? She always seems so bright.”

“She tries very hard to keep cheerful and to keep the Leader happy.”

“Mummy says that’s our job too. Do you want to have children one day, Liesl?”

“Definitely. I’d like to have four.”

“Really? I only want two. Children are a lot of work.”

Liesl laughed, “You have an old head on your young shoulders.”

“Where will you and Peter live when you’re
married
?”

“There’s a little cottage on my parents’ farm, and I hope we can live there. I’ll be able to help my parents on the farm and Peter will be able to cycle to the shop.”

“What will you do on the farm?”

“Lots of things. Milking, feeding the animals,
helping
Mother bottle and pickle. My brothers do most of the heavy work.”

“How many brothers do you have?”

“Two – Hans and Max.”

“Older or younger?”

“Both older.”

“Are they married?”

“No.”

“So they still live at home?”

“Well. They did. Max is in England now.”

“England?”

“He was captured by the English.”

“So was my brother Harald. Mummy says it’s the best thing that can happen. She knows he’ll be safe now.”

Liesl nodded.

“What about Hans?”

Liesl shook her head. “We don’t know.”

I leant back on Liesl and she rocked me in her arms. It was so nice to be held and feel protected. We stayed like that until Heide burst in, looking for somewhere to hide.

I wasn’t in the mood for hide-and-seek so I went down the steps to the Leader Bunker to look for the puppies. Mummy and Auntie Eva were in the corridor with Mrs. Junge. They were talking to one of the
soldiers
. The young one – about my age, maybe a bit older.
Very, very short hair, almost shaved. He was covered in dust. His uniform, his boots, his head, his face –
everything
was completely grey apart from his dark eyes. Auntie Eva was taking a handkerchief out of her pocket and giving it to him. He wiped his face with it, but only managed to smear the dirt around a bit. Then she poured him a glass of water from the jug on the trolley, and as he took it from her hand, he dropped it straight on the floor and it shattered. Auntie Eva poured him another one. She dipped her hanky in the water and wiped gently all around his eyes. “Calm down, calm down,” she kept saying, kindly, as if she was talking to a dog. I don’t think Mummy really noticed the boy, or me. She had one hand on her forehead as if she had a headache. I think she even had her eyes closed. I couldn’t stop watching. Auntie Eva called an orderly to clear up the broken glass. And then the boy rushed off. I hope I see him again.

Auntie Eva saw me on the stairs and gave me a huge smile. “I know what you’re after – come with me and I’ll show you!” All the puppies were asleep on her bed. I lay down and cuddled up with them, and as they woke up they all started wriggling and fidgeting and flopping on top of each other. I stroked Foxl behind his ears, which he loves. Auntie Eva was repairing her make-up when Mrs. Junge came in, all hurried and worried, and not waiting to see whether she was
interrupting
, which is unusual for her.

“The Leader is looking for Upper Group Leader Fegelein.”

Auntie Eva looked confused, “Hermann? I have no idea. I don’t think I’ve seen him for a few days. What is it about? Is there news from Gretl?”

“I – I’m not sure. I think you had better come.”

Auntie Eva left me with the puppies. It sounds like Uncle Leader might have got a message that Auntie Eva’s sister Gretl has had her baby.

I wasn’t on my own for long because the others gave up playing hide-and-seek and came to see the puppies too. Mrs. Junge came back – much calmer this time – and called us for lunch. She wouldn’t say what had happened so I still don’t know whether Auntie Eva has a new niece or nephew.

Lunch was OK. Mashed potatoes and fried eggs. Then we went to lie down on our bunks and Hilde read the story of Snow White out loud. Helmut had the idea of us doing a Snow White play, with lots of dwarf yodelling. We agreed to give it a go, so long as he didn’t get silly. I was Snow White, Hilde was the Wicked Queen and all the others were dwarves, with Helmut doubling as the Prince. I did a fantastic dying scene, I thought, when I was poisoned – clutching my throat and bulging my eyes. All the little dwarves wept loudly. Very dramatic. We practised it through twice and decided to do a performance for the grown-ups. We planned to do it at teatime, but no one came to get us
ready, so, when my watch said four o’clock, we went out to see what was happening.

There were just the usual soldiers in the corridor. Mummy’s door was closed. We went down the stairs to the Leader Bunker to see if we could find Mrs. Junge or Auntie Eva or Liesl.

We heard a door slam. Someone was shouting. We crouched down on the stairs to try to find out what was going on without being seen. Papa and Uncle Leader and Mr. Bormann came into the Leader Bunker
corridor
.

They were walking backwards and forwards, Uncle Leader at the front, shouting furiously. He was waving a big, torn piece of paper – a map, I think. In the end he flung it on the floor. Papa looked white, but Mr. Bormann just looked like he always does – so tightly stuffed into his suit he can hardly speak, very slightly swaying. You can never tell what he’s thinking. The opposite of Papa – you can always tell how he’s feeling from his face. Uncle Leader was yelling, “The traitors! The cowards!” He was bright red. We managed to crawl back up the stairs without anyone noticing us. Miss Manziarly was just setting out cakes and hot chocolate in the corridor of the Upper Bunker.

She said Uncle Leader was too busy for tea today. Clearly. So, no three-part harmony performance and no Snow White. We ate our tea in silence and
listened
out for more door slamming and shouting, but
everything had gone quiet.  

We didn’t really know what to do at the end of tea. We had another rehearsal, but everyone was grumpy. Helmut kept spoiling it by laughing when I was dying. And then Hilde got upset and said that she wanted to be Snow White and she didn’t want to be the Wicked Queen, so we gave up and decided to go and find the puppies. Again.  

The Leader Bunker corridor was empty. The puppies weren’t in their little room, so we went to see whether they were in Auntie Eva’s. We were just about to knock when we heard loud crying. We ran as fast as we could back up the stairs to the Upper Bunker. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m pretty sure it was Auntie Eva crying. It could be something to do with Gretl’s baby – or it could be to do with Uncle Leader being so angry.

When we got back upstairs Mummy was looking for us. She took us into our bedroom.  

“Listen carefully, children. I need to tell you
something
important. Sit down, Heide.”  

For a moment I thought she was going to explain what was going on.  

“Now I’m very proud of all of you. You’ve all been really good children and not made any fuss at all. You are proper little soldiers. And because we’re all living like soldiers we’re going to need to have a special
injection
which soldiers have to keep them strong.”

“Why?”

“Well, we’re living with lots of people down here and if someone got an illness it could spread very quickly, so we all need to have this injection to protect us from getting sick.

“I’m going to go to see Dr. Kunz this evening to arrange for him to come and give you your injections. Mrs. Junge is also going to be busy this evening because Uncle Leader has got lots of typing for her to do. We have arranged for one of the nurses, Miss Flegel, to put you to bed. She’s very nice and I know you’ll all be good and help each other and not give her any trouble.”

“Mummy, when can we show you our play?” Holde asked.

“I’m not sure, darling. Everyone’s very busy at the moment. This is a very important time.”

“Is the war going to end soon?” Helmut asked.

“Yes, very soon. And we’ve all got to be good and brave.”

I’m a bit confused about why we need the injection if the war’s going to end soon.

Miss Flegel was alright, though I didn’t like the look of her. She has a completely square face and dark hair tied back flat. She’s been nursing General von Greim and she said that his leg – apparently it’s not just his foot that was hurt but all the lower part of that leg too – will get better. She says that we have the world’s top doctors here in the bunker. She got us to sing the song
that Hanna Reitsch had taught us and then turned out the light and sang until all the little ones were asleep. She sang the lullaby Granny used to sing to us:

After she’d gone I tried to talk to Hilde, but she’s a million miles away from me. She said that she just wanted to sleep. She sucked in her cheeks and turned to face the wall. I thought I could hear her crying but it was hard to be sure through all the rattling shells. She just pulled the blankets over her head and told me to shut up. She always has to make things as bad as they can be. Bite off her nose to spite her face. And there’s never anything I can do.

I tried to think about Liesl in her cottage with her little brood of children. Then I heard the music. Only in snatches, filling the silences between the shells. Thumping feet and wailing violins. Someone,
somewhere
must have been having a party. I asked Hilde if she could hear it, but she didn’t reply. She may have
been asleep. I finally drifted off to the music and the shelling and dreams of the dusty soldier boy.