meals. Cook laughed when I asked if Hitler was in residence. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Why would we go to such trouble otherwise? Not for Bormann or Göring. They have their own chefs. And certainly we wouldn’t work this hard for some minor bureaucrat.’
Captain Weber checked on my progress almost daily. The kitchen was small enough that we saw each other quite often. Many times he stood nearby watching me and Cook, until she became irritated and with a scolding look ushered him out of the room.
‘You have better things to do than waste time with us,’ she said.
He smiled back and told us he wanted to make sure everything in the kitchen was up to the Führer’s high standards.
I knew this was only a ploy on his part to get close to me. My head and heart turned to him when he was in the room. It was hard to concentrate on work when the handsome Captain stood nearby. I enjoyed his attention.
Cook also issued instructions: I should never wander alone in the Berghof, only speak when spoken to and never disturb or interrupt a conversation, particularly one involving the Führer – if I ever encountered him, which according to Cook would be a rarity. She also told me that the SS were everywhere and knew everything we were involved in, including our personal habits. This unsettled me so much I had an uneasy feeling every time I went to the bathroom. I searched the walls and ceiling for a microphone.
An SS officer I only knew as a Colonel in the Leibstandarte often lurked nearby. He had a pleasant face with round blue eyes, a square jaw and a prominent cleft in his chin; however, a veneer of icy impenetrability masked any warmth he might have carried. Everyone in the kitchen kept their distance unless they were serving him.
‘Stay away from him,’ Cook warned. ‘He would turn on his mother.’
I wasn’t sure why she had warned me. Perhaps a member of the kitchen staff had gotten in trouble with the Colonel. I didn’t ask. I heeded my aversion to the man and kept my distance.
My roommate was a young woman from Munich by the name of Ursula Thalberg, who had worked at the Berghof for several months. Ursula had an oval face framed by blond curls. She also exhibited an outgoing and buoyant personality. Her face was often lit by smiles when she talked. Like most of us, her politics were fueled by what we knew of the Party through the Reich papers and radio broadcasts. Ursula was more concerned with the ‘Faith and Beauty’ program, a voluntary plan espoused by the Reich to make us into model German women, than with politics. I knew of the program, but had little use for it. For the most part, Ursula and I were content to take mountain walks and practice our outdoor gymnastics in pleasant weather. Ursula also was a taster.
Our room was small but comfortable, with two single beds, a desk, a chair and a phone. A few books and mementoes lined the shelves, and a tiny closet held our uniforms and civilian clothing. My stuffed monkey found a home on my pillow.
Ursula smoked, but only when she had no fear of being caught. Cook had said Hitler strongly discouraged men and women in his service from using tobacco. One night, not long after we had met, Ursula turned off the lights, opened the window and exhaled the smoke under the sill as we talked. I hadn’t taken up my position yet and was full of questions.
‘Aren’t you scared of being poisoned?’ I asked.
She chuckled. ‘Not really. I’m much too young to die. Besides, the Führer is so well protected, who could possibly poison him? The traitor would be found out immediately and die a horrible death.’
I was amazed at her nonchalance. ‘What’s it like being a taster?’ I was determined to find out more about my job, despite the ugly possibility of being poisoned. The more I knew, the less chance I had of dying.
Ursula puffed on her cigarette, parted the floral-print curtains and blew the smoke out the window. ‘There’s not much to it, really. The cook spoons out a serving from each dish. The serving is taken from various points in the dish – not from one spot. Several of us taste the food and then we wait. Sometimes we drink as well, if a bottle has been opened. We have to eat an hour before the Führer, in case …’
‘No one has died?’
‘No, but several tasters have gotten sick.’ She laughed and then added, ‘But I think their illnesses were caused by the soldiers they kissed the night before. There’s nothing wrong with the food. You’ve seen it. Only the best comes from the greenhouses, and it’s always prepared in the most delicious manner. If you think about it, we’re lucky we don’t have to deal with rations like the rest of the country.’
I settled on my bed and cradled my stuffed monkey in my arms.
‘You look ridiculous with that toy,’ Ursula said.
I flipped the monkey in the air and caught him in my arms. ‘I know, but he reminds me of home and my family.’
‘I don’t miss Munich. I love it here.’ Then her mood darkened and she lowered her voice. ‘How much do you know about the war?’
I shook my head. ‘Little – just what we hear on the radio and read in the papers.’
Ursula took another puff. ‘The soldiers here talk, especially if you’re pretty, even though they’re not supposed to.’ She winked. ‘I know we will win the war, but there are rumors going around that the Allies and our Eastern foes are gaining ground. Some say it’s only a matter of time before Germany falls.’ She shook a finger at me. ‘Don’t spread that around.’
I believed we might come to a stalemate with the Allies, but losing the war was something I’d never considered despite my father’s negative feelings. The suggestion of having to deal with the enemy horde chilled me. It was too much to think about in one evening. Ursula saw my uneasiness as I shrunk back against the wall.
‘How does the Colonel feel about such talk?’ I asked.
‘He’s a dangerous man,’ Ursula said. She reached under the bed, pulled out an ashtray and snuffed out her cigarette. The smell of burned tobacco filled our room. Ursula waved her hands, trying to get the smoke out the window. She peered out. ‘If he caught me smoking, he’d report me in a second.’
‘I’m beginning to feel like I’m in prison,’ I said, having no idea what a real prison would be like.
She shrugged. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll have your class in poisons soon. It’s most interesting. Cook explains it well. You learn to identify them by sight, taste and smell.’
‘Taste?’ I asked, wondering how such a process could exist.
‘A pinprick of a taste. A lick of the fingertip. Not enough to harm you – at least for most poisons.’
I shivered and yearned to shift the conversation to another topic. I’d learned enough for one evening. ‘Would you like to do something tonight? I feel restless.’
Ursula’s eyes lit up, making me wonder whether she had secretly wanted to go out all along. ‘I was going to read, but let’s take a walk instead. It’s too late to go to a movie at the Theater Hall, but the SS barracks are up the hill.’ She fluffed her hair and looked at her face in a compact mirror.
We put on our coats and walked through the east wing of the Berghof. A guard stationed at the door where the driver had dropped me off nodded as we passed. Ursula said, ‘Good evening.’ She was familiar with many of the soldiers. Because we were in the immediate area surrounding the residence, we did not need to show passes. Ursula said that if we had wanted to visit anywhere outside the perimeter the SS would question us.
The SS barracks stood on the hill to the southeast of the Berghof. The four main buildings were constructed around a central field used by the corps for drills and inspections. Ursula said many of the men would still be up and she would introduce me to a few of the officers. We strolled around the barracks and peered into the field. The buildings were darkened by the blackout blinds. Now and then the breeze would lift a blind and a warm buttery light would pulse out, only to be extinguished as quickly as it appeared. Ursula and I walked in the milky light of a quarter moon, which