changed clothes, fussed with my hair and tried to read a book.
Karl knocked on my door about ten. My heart fluttered a bit when I saw him. His hair was neatly combed, uniform sparkling and pressed, boots polished to a slick shine. He smiled and then bowed slightly.
I closed the door and placed my left arm through the arch he created with his right. We walked toward the Great Hall, the large sitting room I’d heard about but never been in. Before we reached it we came to a flight of stairs that led downward. ‘Dinner conversation was dull as usual,’ he said. ‘Eva talked about her dogs and Hitler carried on about Blondi. Then Bormann got to talking about his children.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘That was fascinating. I can outline each of their school careers and his plans for them. It’s so much more pleasant when Speer is here. At least he’s not a boor.’
‘Where is the Führer?’ I held on tightly to Karl as we descended the stone steps.
‘He’s in the Hall with his generals for his evening military conference. Fortunately, I’m not part of that. That will go on until midnight, or later, when we may be called in for tea. That usually lasts until two, sometimes longer.’ He put a finger to his lips as if to tell a secret. ‘That’s why he and Eva sleep so late. The rest of us must tend to our duties.’
‘I’m lucky I’m only the taster.’
Karl released my arm and stopped on the stairs. ‘Your job is important, perhaps one of the most important in the Reich. You stand between Hitler and death. You must always remember that.’
An uncomfortable shudder swept over me as I pondered the immensity of my task yet again. Was I really all that stood between Hitler and death? There were fourteen others who were in the same position. Did they feel as I did? My task didn’t fill me with a grand sense of importance. In fact, in the past several weeks I’d preferred to think of it as only a job. Knowing the Führer’s fate was intertwined with mine was too much to bear. I changed the subject. ‘What movie is being shown?’
‘Gone with the Wind. Everyone is excited to see it. Eva said it’s very romantic. Most American films are.’
He took my arm again and we reached the bottom of the steps. A long hall with several doors on each side stretched out before us. Karl opened the one nearest us and laughter danced on the air. The room was filled with men dressed in suits and women attired in fine dresses. Eva and her friends sat in chairs lined up in the front row on either side of the projector while other guests sat behind them. Negus and Stasi, Eva’s dogs, were nestled at her feet. We were in a small bowling alley constructed under the main rooms of the Berghof. A screen had been placed at the far end of the lanes. Two young men I knew from the kitchen took orders and then returned with trays brimming with drinks.
Karl and I sat near the rear in plush high-back chairs. They were somewhat stiff, and I wondered if they’d be uncomfortable to sit in through an entire movie. When the alley went dark, Karl reached across and touched my hand. Warmth spread through my fingers and up into my arm. The shock touched my heart and I struggled to catch a breath.
‘Is something wrong?’ Karl asked.
‘No,’ I whispered. ‘I tasted tonight for the first time. Perhaps it’s a reaction to the food.’
Karl twisted in his seat and took my hands. ‘If you’re sick, I will get the Führer’s personal physician.’
I leaned back. ‘Please, Karl, I’m fine. Let’s enjoy the movie.’
He nodded and relaxed somewhat. The lights flickered, the music swelled from the speakers and we turned our attention to the film. I made sure to keep his hand in mine. He squeezed my fingers as Scarlett teased the Tarleton twins. I had the same reaction when, later in the film, Scarlett kissed Rhett Butler.
About one in the morning, a telephone call interrupted the film. We were only about two-thirds of the way through, but the picture was finished for the evening. Those who wanted to see the ending would have to wait for another time. Karl escorted me back to my room, kissed my hand and disappeared down the hall. I got into bed and dreamed that night of making love to him.
Over the days, my fear of tasting lessened. One afternoon, I called my parents for the first time since arriving at the Berghof and told them I was working with Hitler. The Reich had informed them previously of my service. However, I did not tell them what I was doing. I could tell my father was not pleased with my new position because his silence gave away his thoughts. I also knew someone, probably an SS man, was listening to our conversation. I suspected my father did as well.
My mother was more effusive and pressed me about my job. I told her I was in service to the Führer and left it at that. It was best not to give either of them any more information. When I hung up, it struck me how much I lived in a world of distrust and fear. Perhaps my father’s cold replies amplified what I was feeling. At the Berghof, we lived in a monastic world: secluded, insular, broken off from the realities of the war. Hitler and his generals bore the psychological brunt of the fighting. We never saw or heard the reported rages, or experienced the tensions that apparently permeated this mountain retreat. We only heard rumors. We could either choose to believe or not. I didn’t like feeling this way because I wanted the world to be ‘normal.’ After the conversation with my parents, I realized how far and how fast I’d slipped away from the everyday. I wondered whether everyone in Hitler’s service felt the same. I was being seduced by the singular drama in which we played. We were all Marie Antoinette asking the world to eat cake while the earth burned to ashes around us.
After about two weeks, I finally tasted a meal without some degree of shaking. Ursula and the cooks had teased me, so unmercifully, in fact, that eventually I forced myself to relax. They assured me that no poisons would get by them. The ‘last meal’ became a joke around the kitchen. Despite their assurances, I still suffered from a nervous stomach now and then.
Captain Weber and I spoke often when we passed each other in the halls and sometimes we enjoyed leisurely conversations in the kitchen. Cook raised as much of a fuss as she could, but it was Karl’s right to oversee as he saw fit. One night he suggested we go to the Theater Hall for an impromptu dance. I, of course, accepted with Ursula’s urging.
Karl called for me at my room and accompanied me up the slope to the Hall. The air was fresh, the night chilly, as we walked. A small dance floor had been formed by pushing chairs aside to the walls. The lamps were dimmed, barely enough to light the room. Records, mostly waltzes, crackled out of an old table phonograph. The music flowed into the room from a gold-colored, blossom-shaped speaker. Two other couples were dancing. A few of the men, lacking women, danced together, not touching each other except for their hands. They shot looks of envy our way when Karl pulled me close and swung me into a waltz. We flowed naturally into each other.
The night melted into stars and warmth. I loved being next to Karl and, judging by the content smile on his face, he loved me as well. We danced for several hours, hardly saying a word. If love was an energy, a force, it passed between us that night. When I finally left his arms, my body tingled.
As we were leaving the Hall, we heard a cough. Karl grabbed my hand tightly and guided me out of the building. I looked back. The Colonel walked out of the shadows, cigarette in hand, the smoke drifting through the dim light. His gaze followed us as we left.
‘How long has he been watching us?’ I asked Karl.
He did not look back. ‘All evening,’ he said.
One afternoon in late May, I accompanied Karl and Ursula on a trip to the Teahouse. It was my first visit. I had seen it once from the terrace that ran along the north and west sides of the Berghof. I sneaked a peek at its round turret rising through the trees below when no one was about but an SS guard enjoying the air. He recognized me and didn’t mind that I shared the view.
The mountains to the north were often misty and veiled in clouds, but the first day I saw the Teahouse the sky was crisp and blue. Looking out upon the scenery, I realized why Hitler had chosen this particular spot as his own. He’d purchased the property – claimed it, some had said – and begun renovations a short time later. The view gave