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 its owner the psychological superiority of one who might believe he was a god. To look upon the magnificent rocky peaks was to feel on top of the world while those below were mere specks, dirt beneath his feet. Hitler was indeed master of all he surveyed.
Karl, Ursula and I set off to the Teahouse shortly after one o’clock. The blue sky above the Berghof held today as well, but a band of high clouds was approaching from the northeast. We walked down the driveway and then cut off on a trail that descended through the forest by way of a wooded path. At one magnificent bend, rails of hewn logs kept the walker from tumbling over the precipice of the Berchtesgaden valley. A long bench had been constructed there so Hitler could ponder the magnificent view to the north. Karl told us that Eva and her friends liked to use the rails as a kind of gymnastic bar, balancing upon them and pointing their legs over the cliff, at least for the sake of photographs. She was always posing and using her new film camera, he said. Hitler was often uncomfortable with her filming, but grudgingly obliged her hobby.
The Teahouse, less than a kilometer from the Berghof, soon came into view. It was like a miniature castle planted on a rocky hillside. The path ended at stone steps to its door. Karl had a key because the kitchen staff was so often called to serve there.
‘I really shouldn’t be doing this, but I want you to see it,’ he said. ‘It’s quite charming. Hitler relaxes here and invites others to join him. He’ll be down later.’
Karl opened the door and Ursula and I peered inside. A round table decorated with flowers and set with silk tablecloths, sparkling china and polished silver sat near the middle of the room. Plush armchairs decorated in an abstract floral pattern of swirling bellflowers added to the medieval atmosphere of the turret. A kitchen and offices lay behind this large circular room. We stepped inside and Karl urged me to sit in one of the chairs. I did and luxuriated in its soft cushions.
‘That’s where he sits,’ Karl said.
I jumped out of the chair.
Ursula laughed. ‘Scaredy-cat,’ she said. ‘He’s not here.’
‘Why did you tell me to sit there?’ I asked Karl, irritated by his prank. ‘I don’t want to get into trouble.’ I felt foolish.
‘You won’t. Sit and enjoy the view.’ I returned to the seat and looked out the windows that encircled the front half of the tower while he and Ursula whispered in the doorway.
‘What are you two plotting?’ I asked.
Karl turned to me, his face sullen. ‘Nothing. I’m talking with Ursula about her mother – she’s been ill, you know.’ The night Karl and I had gone to see Gone with the Wind, Ursula had been called to Munich.
I sat for several more minutes as they continued their secretive discussion. Finally, I got up, explored the other tables and chairs and then stood behind them. They abruptly stopped their conversation when I got too close.
‘We should be getting back,’ Karl said. ‘We can’t hang about here too long.’
As we walked, I wondered why we had come in the first place. I didn’t have a good feeling about our visit to the Teahouse. Something gnawed at my stomach and I knew my discomfort centered on Karl and Ursula. They were up to something.
Karl informed us that Hitler often stayed at the Berghof for only a short time before leaving for another headquarters or hiding place. When Hitler was in residence, a giant Nazi flag flew over the grounds. As it turned out, he wasn’t even at the Berghof for about two weeks in May. I wasn’t sure where he went, but Karl, on the sly, told me it was to the ‘Wolf’s Lair.’ To foil assassination attempts, the Führer kept his travel schedule secret and often switched trains or flights at the last moment or showed up early or late for appointments. He’d used this tactic for years, and it had served him well, particularly since the war broke out.
A rumor circulated that Hitler was holding a reception at the Teahouse for kitchen staff before he left on his next trip. It would be the first time I had a chance to meet the leader of the Reich. I asked Karl about this and he confirmed it was true.
After breakfast the next morning, everyone was in high spirits and anticipation about ‘tea’ with the Führer. A light rain fell, but it did not dampen our gay mood. Cook wanted me to take inventory from the greenhouses and record food items, in addition to my tasting duties, so I was late getting back to my room.
‘Eva has instructed everyone to wear traditional Bavarian garments,’ Cook told me. ‘There will be a costume on your bed.’
‘Why is dressing up so important?’ I asked her.
‘Because Heinrich Hoffmann, Hitler’s personal photographer, is here. He and Eva thought it would be a good opportunity to capture the benevolent spirit of the Führer as he entertains and thanks his staff.’ She chuckled. ‘Eva loves to dress up. That’s really why we’re doing it.’
When I went back to my room, I interrupted Ursula. She was already dressed in her Bavarian costume. I really had no fondness for the hose, petticoats, the flouncy dress and puffy sleeves of the garment. Ursula sat on her bed, sewing her apron. She turned quickly away from me when I entered.
‘You’d better get ready,’ Ursula said, looking back over her shoulder. Her fingers trembled and the needle slipped from her hand.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked. ‘Is there a problem with your apron?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m shaky because I haven’t eaten. I need to get to the kitchen for some food.’ She began sewing again and stitched across the apron’s left pocket.
‘There’s not much to eat now. The staff is preparing lunch, but I wouldn’t be concerned about me getting ready. I’m sure it’ll be after four before we’re called to the Teahouse. We’ve got plenty of time.’
Ursula sighed. ‘Yes, plenty of time.’
She went back to her work as I inspected my dress and its trimmings. ‘I don’t have an apron. Do I need one?’
Her eyes dimmed. ‘I don’t know. You might ask Cook. This one was given specifically to me.’
I stretched out on my bed with a book. ‘The weather is so nasty it’s a good day for reading.’
Ursula threw the apron and needle on her bed. ‘Can’t you take a walk or find something to do?’
I sat up, shocked at her harsh tone. ‘What’s wrong? I’ve never seen you so upset. Is it your mother?’
She buried her face in her hands and cried. I crept over to her, sat behind her and cradled her shoulders. This made her sobbing even worse.
‘Yes,’ she said between gasps. ‘I have no family now. Both of my brothers are dead because of the war. My father is already dead and my mother is dying. I don’t care if we lose this war – I’ve already lost everything. My brothers were all I had.’
I turned her so she faced me, and wiped her tears with a handkerchief. ‘You must be strong and not let your troubles overcome you.’
Ursula pushed me away. ‘You say that so easily because you still have your family. Wait until they are gone. Then you’ll see how hard it is.’ She collapsed on the bed.
Saddened by her mood, I got up and stared out the window. The mountains were lost in the silver mist and fog. On days like this, the Berghof’s air of invincibility vanished. ‘I’ll leave you alone, but you only have to ask if you need my help.’ I found