The Separation (48 page)

Gradually we saw the revamped armistice document taking shape, an absorbing and satisfying process. What soon became noticeable was the amount of energy emanating from the German side of the room. It had not been like that in Cascais: the German proposals and responses then were full of feints and diversions, a series of attempts to achieve small advantages over the other side. Now it was different: it was the British who were on the defensive, objecting, compromising, quibbling, trying to nullify offers with counter-proposals.

Although I was technically a neutral in the negotiations, I was of course British-born and had spent nearly the whole war inside Britain. I was used to the subtle British propaganda put out by the various government ministries. It routinely portrayed the Germans as the sole aggressors, the wrongdoers, the invaders, the killers of innocents, and much else besides. Truth resides somewhere deep inside propaganda, but in a war neither side has a monopoly on it. In Stockholm I began to understand the Germans’ position: many of the British responses were inflexible, stubborn, pettifogging, often contradictory and tinged with a moralistic tone.

At ten in the evening Dr Burckhardt sent word to our team that we should stand down for the night. The main conference was being adjourned for twelve hours. As we raised our heads, we realized that we had been working without a break more or less since the end of Hess’s speech. I was not only exhausted, I was famished too. I knew everyone else must be the same, so we broke off from our tasks with relief, leaving unfinished whatever we were doing. It was not long before we were being driven back to the hotel in Stockholm, where a late supper was waiting for us.

In the morning, refreshed a little, we returned to Count Bernadotte’s country house.
xxiv

The page on which I had been working the evening before was still in the roller of the typewriter. I sat down, loosened my tie and took off my jacket. Someone opened the window shutters to let in the morning sunlight. I read through the last few lines of the translation, thinking myself back into what I needed to do. I had been working on a position paper drawn up by the British negotiators, who were concerned with the German idea of parity. It was seen by both sides as central to the peace accord. Hess, the day before, had used the German word
Gleichheit,
which in English translated as ‘parity’ with the meaning of ‘equality of interest’. To the British team, equality of interest was neither quite what they wanted it to mean nor what they thought (or hoped) Hess had meant to convey. They preferred to substitute ‘equality of rights’
{Parität),
or ‘equality of status’
(gleiche Stellung),
phrases loaded with significance when it was remembered that Churchill insisted on signing the armistice himself. It was obvious he would have nothing to do with a deal which implied that the British were losing the war and had sued for peace, which might be the interpretation if the only equality that was admitted with Germany was one of vested interests. I had been trying to decide what to do about the problem - was it a question of interests, rights or status? - when we closed down for the night.

I stared at the sentence, trying to concentrate.

I was still sleepy, a condition that ever since my episodes of lucid imaginings made me apprehensive. I was somewhat reassured by my hurried consultation with the psychologist, Mr Clark, who seemed to think the problem was at an end, but to me nothing was certain. Most of those episodes had occurred when I was sleeping or sleepy. I was concerned that I had hardly slept during the night and that I had started the morning feeling unrested.

I found myself thinking about the different meanings of ‘parity’, in English as well as in German. It was a concept I grew up with: parity in all things is a concern of identical twins, often in a contradictory way. We wanted to be equal in the eyes of our parents but to be favoured by them, to become individuals with independent lives while remaining twins, to develop separately while retaining a special bond.

Perhaps this was what Hess was trying to suggest: introductory material to the draft agreement spoke sentimentally of a tradition of brotherhood between Britain and Germany, twin countries, forever joined, forever separate, benevolent neutrals. The Germans described what they saw as common cultural purpose, innate likeness between the two peoples, a shared sense of civilized responsibility. Fine words, so long as you did not consider the war. That was what they sought: to remove the war, to strengthen the natural bond.

Was it a coincidental clue about me and my brother Jack?

Through over-concentration I was becoming blind to the subtleties of meaning that existed between the various translations, so I called over one of the constitutional lawyers and asked his advice. One of the Quaker advisers who was from Germany sat with us while we discussed it. Semantic nuances were a concern of us all. Our work with the documents took place in a situation where diplomacy, language and national interests intersected. The lawyer considered for a moment, then said he thought that
gleiche
Stellung,
parity of status, would be the correct way to express the concept. The German Quaker agreed. We consulted an official from the German Embassy in Stockholm, a member of the document group, and he also thought that was right. Gradually we crept to agreement. It went into the next version of the draft, submitted to our principals in the main conference hall. Not wanting to work everyone to exhaustion again, I used my discretion as leader of the team and called a thirty-minute break in the middle of the morning. Several of us walked downstairs and out into the grounds, admiring the cold peacefulness of the pine forest and the large, calm lake. Birds flew noisily and freely in the neutral air. I remembered many of the other document workers from the days in Cascais; our mood was different here. In Portugal there had been the exhilaration of possibilities - an armistice was an enthralling prospect. Now that peace was in sight we simply wanted to conclude the process and the work was more of a grind. Most of the translators drifted back to their desks long before the end of the break period.

We had resumed work when I was summoned to Dr Burckhardt’s office, a small room next to the main conference chamber.

‘[It has been agreed by the principals that the talks will end by 6 p.m. today,]’ he said brusquely.

‘[There will not be an extension beyond that time. Anything that has not been settled by then will have to remain unsettled. Do you think you and your team can complete all documents?]’

‘[Yes, sir, if we have the texts to work with. There have been no obstacles so far. Everything seems to be working smoothly]’

‘[Good. No one is expecting any real problems at this late stage, but you never know.]’

He said nothing about the reason for the decision, so I assumed it had been adopted as an artificial but agreed deadline, to make sure that the negotiations would not drag on for ever. We therefore entered the last and hardest period of translating and editing, reacting to the increased amount of discussion that was taking place between the principals. We did not stop for lunch but were provided with a cold buffet from which we took what we needed. There was a burst of extra activity soon afterwards, but then the pressure began to ease. By mid-afternoon I was able to delegate the actual drafting work that I would have done myself and by four o’clock at least half the team had no more work piled up on their desks. Half an hour later, the last document was sent through to the principal negotiators and their advisers.

Everyone in the document team had seen sections of the draft armistice, sometimes many times over. A few of us had been able to see the whole thing. I knew to my own satisfaction that it was as nearly complete as it was possible to be. It was an intriguing, complex document, almost shocking in the way it confronted what a few weeks before would have been unthinkable. For all the complexity of the ideas and principles the armistice addressed, and the difficulties we had sometimes found in writing them down, we finished the work an hour and a half before the deadline.

In the period of calm that followed, an unreal sense of euphoria mixed with apprehension settled on me. The impossible seemed to be about to happen: the war would end. At the same time, the thought of the armistice going wrong at the last minute was terrible, with the USA, the Soviet Union and Japan being drawn into a global conflagration.

All international treaties are as significant for what they don’t say as for what they do. Every page I had worked on was heavy with unstated fears about a wider war.

I was pacing about on the lawn beneath our window, feeling chilled by the easterly wind but needing a few minutes of solitude, when I was approached by a man I recognized as one of Dr Burckhardt’s staff.

‘[Mr Sawyer, if you would be so kind. Your presence is requested.]’

The formal courtesy of the man’s words and manner indicated the call was something special. On the way back into the house I grabbed my jacket from my desk and quickly combed my hair. At that moment I had no idea what to expect, but assumed it must be connected with the document work. Dr Burckhardt was waiting in his office and as soon as I appeared he stood up. We shook hands.

‘[Mr Sawyer, I am as grateful as ever for your contribution to the agreement. Like everyone else here, you will see shortly the fruits of everyone’s efforts, against which my own thanks will be nothing. In the meantime, though, I have received an unusual request. I wonder if you would be good enough to speak privately to Herr Hess?]’

‘[In some kind of official capacity, Dr Burckhardt? On behalf of the Red Cross?]’

‘[He has asked for you by name and requested that no note-taker or interpreter should be present.]’

‘[But what is it about?]’

‘[I don’t know, Mr Sawyer.]’

He indicated that I should follow him. We walked along a short corridor that led away from his office. At the end was a wide hall that opened at the bottom of a grand staircase and beyond it was a double door, decorated with gilt inlays and rococo decals.

xxv

Dr Burckhardt closed the doors behind me as I went through. I was immediately aware of the vast size of the room - a long lounge, with several clusters of easy chairs and settees arranged around low tables but had no time to take in the rest. Rudolf Hess was standing by himself a short distance from the door, waiting for me. His hands were clasped behind his back and his broad figure was silhouetted against the daylight from the large window behind him.

‘[Good afternoon, Mr Sawyer,]’ he said at once, in his curiously tenor voice.

‘[Good afternoon, Herr Deputy Führer.]’

He shook my hand in an odd way, vigorously but with his fingers gripping weakly, then led me through the room to where two large armchairs faced each other across a wide table. A tall, glass-fronted bookcase, stacked neatly with uniformly bound editions, loomed over us. A jug of coffee had been placed on the table, together with a selection of cakes. Neither of us sat down but stood self-consciously near the window. Because it was on the other side of the building from where we had been working, the room faced across a part of the estate I had not seen before: a short distance away from the main house was a long row of single-storey buildings, stables perhaps, which fronted a paved yard. Many large cars were parked there.

‘[We have much to celebrate, do we not?]’ said Hess.

‘[Yes ... it is a great achievement.]’

‘[And with time left over. We hoped to be finished by six, but we find we have slightly more than an hour to spare. I have seized the chance to speak to you alone. We have a great deal to look forward to. At last the way is paved for change in the world. England and Germany will be friends once more. An important alliance with consequences that will be felt around the world, the foundation of a new Europe.]’

‘[Yes, sir.]’

I glanced around the room, feeling nervous of the man. As Dr Burckhardt had said, there were no aides present and the long room was empty.

‘[The last time we spoke together you were not certain we had met before. I assume that you do remember our conversation at the Mouth of Hell?]’

‘[Of course, sir.]’

‘[You said you were unsure of your neutral status. An Englishman who competed as a sportsman for his country, yet one who claimed to be a neutral in all other things. An interesting position. Let us enjoy coffee and cakes.]’

Hess indicated the refreshments on the table, but I was suddenly gripped with fear of the man. Two rooms away from us, no doubt under close guard by several groups, there existed an immense document of several dozen pages, written in the two main languages of English and German, with summaries prepared in French and Swedish, which ordained that peace had been forged between Hess’s country and mine. But it was as yet unratified, unsigned by either government. Until then, this man was a prominent member of the regime that was enemy to the country where I had been born. The conflict he detected in me, that of nationality against neutrality, was largely the result of Germany’s aggressive actions against other countries. He spoke of restoring friendship between our two countries, yet throughout my life Germany had been synonymous with threats to peace, persecution of its own people and military invasions of other countries. I was neutral not because of uncertain loyalties between countries, but because I loathed war.

Hess bent over the table, pouring himself a black coffee and selecting for himself two small cakes covered with a thick layer of dark chocolate. I had not seen such delicacies for nearly two years, because of the rigorous food rationing at home. Hess popped one of the cakes, whole, into his mouth, scattering crumbs as he worked it around.

‘[So how do you feel, my friend Sawyer, now that we have peace at last?]’ Hess said, chewing on the cake. Dark crumbs were sticking to his protruding teeth.

‘[I am relieved, of course. I suppose it is what I have been hoping and working for]’

‘[To you English, peace will mean the end of fighting. No doubt you will be thankful for that. But for Germany it will be different. The peace will bring the dawning of a new age. Much will change. You must come to Germany and see what I mean.]’