Through the Eye of Time (16 page)

Goebbels started to interrupt but the Führer cried:

‘There is no end to the revolution! A revolution is only doomed to failure if those who make it cease to be revolutionaries. Together with the monuments of bourgeois culture there crumble also the last obstacles to the fulfilment of our revolutionary task. Now that everything is in ruins we are forced to rebuild Europe. In the past, private possessions imprisoned us in the class structure: now the bombs, instead of killing all Europeans, have only smashed the prison walls which held them captive. In trying to destroy Europe's future the enemy has only succeeded in smashing its past; and with that, everything old and outworn has gone. Gone for evermore.'

Several of us applauded this speech and the Führer looked up as if awakening from a trance, and Goebbels sat sullen and stiff, his hands sunk deeply in the pockets of his black leather greatcoat.

‘Is this the message I have to take back with me?' he asked. I have never seen him so depressed and spiritless, bereft of all hope.

‘Tell them to trust in the Führer and in the stars. It is written in my horoscope that the second half of the year will be the turning-point for us. This is June the eleventh. It is the turning-point!'

At this Goebbels stood up abruptly and begged to be excused. He left immediately for Berlin accompanied by his adjutant SS Hauptsturmführer Guenther Schwaegermann and other personal aides.

*

At last I have found someone who talks sense about this mysterious substance
U235
, the vital constituent of the ‘Atomic Bomb'.

An officer arrived at the Berghof bringing a confidential dispatch for the Führer, and after discharging his duty, spent an hour or so relaxing on the balcony in the hot sunshine: it was there we struck up a casual conversation. A young man, mid-twenties I should say, close-cropped sandy-coloured hair, an over-eagerness of speech which made him stutter.

Nicolaus von Below, Wehrmachtattaché (Luftwaffe) to Goering, acting as liaison officer to the Führer's headquarters. I had no idea what the dispatch contained but happened to remark that it must have been of vital importance if the authorities had to employ the services of an Oberst der Luftwaffe.

‘It concerns the B-B-Bomb,' said von Below, rather rashly I thought, not knowing what my security clearance was. ‘Of course you are familiar with the project, being so c-c-close to the Führer.'

‘
U235
,' I said knowledgeably.

‘It will win the war for us. Neither the Soviets, the Americans nor the Japanese have anything like it. In a year from n-n-now – all over.'

‘Why a year?'

‘The process is extremely complex,' said von Below, and went on to explain that
U23s
is composed of the lighter atoms of natural uranium. A team of physicists, working under the direction of Professor Max Steenbeck, has developed a very high speed centrifuge which separates these lighter atoms from the rest, eventually producing what he termed ‘enriched
uranium'. This 2-4 per cent concentration of active uranium is then incorporated in a device which, when triggered, has the explosive power of 100,000 tons of TNT.

‘They call it a chain-reaction. When the
U235
has reached the right level of c-c-concentration something known as fission takes place – the atoms go out of control and the result is a m-m-massive explosion.'

‘Staggering,' I said, shaking my head in wonderment and admiration. ‘This proves once and for all the invincible superiority of German technology.'

‘It is a new era,' von Below confirmed with shining eyes. ‘The Atomic Age. Nothing known to m-m-man can stand in its way. There is no defence against it. The Reich will triumph. Historical N-N-Necessity and Justice will prevail in the end!'

In answer to my questions he informed me that the device, though large, could be carried quite easily by heavy bomber and dropped from 25,000 metres on to the target. At approximately 1,000 metres the Bomb would be detonated by a built-in automatic altimeter system. I expressed surprise at this and von Below explained, ‘It is detonated in the air to achieve m-m-maximum effect. In addition to the heat-blast the Bomb spreads a form of radiation which will give the enemy population skin cancer. And this isn't all—' he was becoming more and more agitated ‘—the radiation sickness will last through m-m-many generations. Babies in the womb will be born deformed, with no arms and legs and with shrunken b-b-bodies. The sperm and egg-cells of those who survive will c-c-carry the sickness so that their offspring will be mutants too – laughable parodies of human beings.'

I was very impressed with Nicolaus von Below: his boyish enthusiasm and unwavering loyalty to the Reich are qualities not in abundant supply at the present time and which many could do worse than emulate, especially those in positions of high command. My only criticism is that he might have been more circumspect in his handling of top secret information; not everyone is trustworthy, even amongst those (sad to say) who are privy to the Führer's most intimate confidences.

*

If victory is sweet, revenge is sweeter.

This observation is prompted by a feeling of secret bubbling exultation. This morning, shortly after eleven o'clock, a ‘deputation' arrived without warning: Brandt, Giesing and von Hasselbach on a mission which had quite obviously been planned weeks ahead and down to the smallest detail.

The appointment had been made, it transpired, through the administrative network of the security guard, Reichssicherheitsdienst Dienststelle I. The first I knew of it was when Heinz Linge called me in great alarm and said that Giesing had been poking around in the medicine cabinet and discovered several cartons of Dr Koester's Antigas Pills and had demanded to know what in heaven's name these were for. Heinz had said (he was flustered) that they were part of the Führer's personal medication as prescribed by me, whereupon Giesing turned pale and rushed out of the room.

I sensed immediately that something was afoot and went directly to the ante-room of Hitler's private apartment. Julius informed me that the three doctors were in consultation with the Führer and that I would be well advised, under the circumstances, not to intervene unless summoned. I reminded him of his pledge to me, on behalf of the Führer and the Fatherland, he had given five years before at the Reich Chancellery in Berlin. I went on:

‘You have seen for yourself the precarious hold he has on life; do you think those butchers have the faintest inkling of the delicate nature of his constitution? It is our right and our duty to protect him from the blundering interference of such meddlesome quacks.'

Just then (destiny smiles on the audacious) the buzzer sounded, summoning Julius inside, and I unhesitatingly followed, to be greeted by thunderous scowls on the faces of the three doctors.

The Führer was sitting at his desk, leaning slightly to one side, his chin resting in the palm of his hand, smoking a cigarette in a holder, a haze of blue smoke obscuring his head.

There was a lengthy silence which no one seemed keen to interrupt; Julius stood attentively by, awaiting instructions. I surmised that someone had finished speaking the moment we
entered – von Hasselbach I gathered, judging from his flushed appearance and fidgety manner.

At last the Führer spoke, a voice issuing from the pall of blue smoke. ‘I was about to send for you, Theo. I have just this minute heard the most remarkable thing. Would you like to hear what it is?'

‘Certainly, mein Führer, if you think it concerns me.'

‘I think it does; wouldn't you say so, Herr Doktor Brandt?'

Brandt had been glaring at me but now he seemed taken aback. ‘Why, yes, of course – of course—' He was plainly confused.

‘These three wise men,' said the voice in the smoke, ‘these three learned physicians inform me that I am being slowly and systematically poisoned. What do you think of that?'

I looked at them one by one. ‘Is that what they say?'

‘Not in that way precisely,' said von Hasselbach. ‘What we were saying was that, in our opinion—'

‘Did I invite you to speak?' the Führer said. A billow of blue smoke rolled ominously across the desk like a thundercloud.

‘Forgive me. I wasn't thinking. My abject apologies.'

More silence.

‘How long have you been attending me, Theo?'

‘Seven years, nearly eight, mein Führer.'

‘Have I suffered one head cold in all that time?'

‘No, mein Führer.'

‘Have I been admitted to hospital in all that time?'

‘No, mein Führer.'

‘Have you diagnosed any disease or infection during those seven years?'

‘Except for a mild complaint of the inner ear, no, mein Führer.'

‘If I may be allowed, sir, to interject at this point,' Giesing spoke up. ‘We—'

‘Shut up!' Hitler screamed. ‘Shut up! Shut up! You dolts! You cretins! You imbecilic swine! Do you think I'm an idiot? Do you think I'm not familiar with your charlatan's tricks? You think I have a disease –
don't deny it
 – I can-see it in your faces. You believe, all three of you, that I'm suffering from some
nervous disorder. Don't deny it!
Don't deny it!
For four years I have directed a war on a global scale. I am the greatest military strategist of all time, and yet you in your infinite quackery think my health is impaired. What understanding do you have of political affairs? None! What do you know of military matters? Nothing! Yet you blunder in here and try to tell me –
me!
 – that I am being poisoned, that my judgement is at fault, that I have lost all control.'

Brandt stepped forward.

‘Mein Führer, forgive me, we have never for an instant doubted your political or military genius. It is purely on a medical basis that we are concerned for your—'

‘Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!' He smashed the top of the desk with both fists. Ash cascaded over the lapels of his double-breasted light-grey jacket. He said to Julius, ‘Am I ill? You see me every day. Am I sickening for anything? Am I nervous? Tell them. Tell them!'

‘No, mein Führer.' Julius caught my eye and swallowed. ‘You are not nervous. You are in perfect health.'

‘You
see
?' Hitler yelled at the top of his voice. ‘He sees me every day, several times a day, and he says I am in perfect health. Per. Fect. Health!'

Brandt, von Hasselbach and Giesing averted their eyes from him and each other. Silence came down like a shroud.

‘Give me a cigarette,' the Führer said, and Julius hurried to comply. When it had been inserted in the holder and was going satisfactorily he said, ‘You are men of paper, you three. Academics. Intellectuals. Out of touch with reality. Morell here is a qualified doctor, just as you three are, but he understands that real medicine isn't concerned simply with flesh and muscle and bone. There are spirits of the body that have to be tended, cared for, treated with respect, and occasionally appeased. What do you know of these spirits? You, Giesing, what do you know?'

Giesing shuffled his feet and tried not to meet anyone's eye. ‘I know very little about spirits,' he admitted. ‘If you mean the psychological treatment of patients—'

‘
Psychological!
' the Führer bellowed, his eyes protruding from his head. ‘You dare to mention in my presence the perverted theories of a Jew? You tell me to my face that you subscribe
to Jewish methods of treatment? You believe – believe—'

He was incoherent with rage. There was a glazed film over his eyes and his face had broken out in large grey blotches. I thought for a moment he was about to have a seizure.

‘What the Führer says is quite correct,' I put in quietly. ‘Modern medicine pays no attention to these all-important spirits. It treats the symptoms but ignores the causes. Unless one understands the dynamic metabolism of the body, the ebb and flow of vital forces, the astrological effects of the spheres on the bodily processes, then medical treatment is of no practical value. You might as well put sticking plaster on a gangrenous leg in order to cure it.'

Brandt was gaping at me as though I was talking gibberish. Both von Hasselbach and Giesing had been cowed into stunned silence. My God, they were sorry they'd ever thought of this!

‘You, a trained doctor, do not believe in orthodox medical practice?' Brandt said. I cannot accurately describe the expression on his face; it was ludicrous in the extreme.

‘You mean the so-called “body of knowledge” compiled by professors in their academic ivory towers?' I said mockingly. ‘All those learned old gentlemen with strings of letters after their names? I prefer to trust my own instincts than follow the outdated ramblings of cretinous old fools.'

The Führer had regained his composure. He was now icily calm. A shadow had fallen over the room, as of that cast by the outspread wings of a hovering eagle about to swoop down on its prey. He said, his voice under strict control:

‘As from today – as of this minute – you are relieved of all medical appointments and political offices. I shall not require your services again, nor your advice, nor do I want any of you admitted into my presence ever again. You are hereby dismissed.'

‘If victory is sweet,' I said to Eva later that day, ‘revenge is sweeter.'

‘Don't go on so,' she said, pulling my head down. ‘Kiss me again.'

‘I'll do more than kiss you,' I said, throwing the bed covers out of the way. ‘I'm going to shaft the arse off you.'

For what seemed like the
nth
time Queghan compared the RECONPAN report with the Archives' record file and noted yet another inconsistency. He was covered in dust, his throat was parched, and his irritation was mounting. It was so bloody obvious and yet if Pouline deGrenier was such a fool that she couldn't see …