The waiting time before lunch passed in easy conversation. Hitler talked to Eva, teased her about her dogs, which he said were nothing but a couple of dusting brushes, whereupon she replied that Blondi wasn’t a dog at all but a calf. I was surprised to find that the man who had just come from a military briefing had left all his serious, official thoughts behind the heavy curtain that separated the Great Hall from the living room. His expression was that of any ordinary genial host welcoming company to his country house.
At last Linge came in, went up to Frau Brandt and said, ‘Gnadige Frau, the Führer will escort you to the table.’ An orderly told the other guests what the seating plan was, and then Linge stepped up to the Führer and announced: ‘My Führer, lunch is ready.’
Hitler, who had also been told ahead of time whom he would be taking in, went ahead with Frau Brandt, Eva Braun took Reichsleiter Bormann’s arm◦– this seating plan never varied – and then the other couples followed, going along a wide corridor, round the corner and into the dining room.
The Führer sat in the middle of the broad side of the table facing the window, with Eva Braun on his left, and then Reichsleiter Bormann. Opposite Hitler and Eva Braun sat either the guest of honour or the highest-ranking officer present with his lady.
I had the head of the Reich press office as my neighbour at table. He was in civilian clothes, and his dark blue suit made him look even more inconspicuous than his uniform. I was bracing myself, expecting him to start a highly intellectual conversation, but he asked, ‘Have you ever been on the Obersalzberg before?’ When I said that although I came from Munich I didn’t know the mountains at all well, he seemed to be as much struck by this information as if I had told him I came from the moon. Then he described the beauty of the area to me at length, and told me about any number of good walks, but unfortunately they remained a mystery to me because I didn’t know a single one of the places or paths he mentioned. But at least during this unexciting conversation I had a chance to observe the lunch ceremony.
There was a beautiful flower arrangement in the middle of the long table. The Führer never had flowers, branches of foliage or anything like that in his rooms at his headquarters. But here at the Berghof there was a woman in charge of the household, and you could feel her feminine touch. The table was laid with Rosenthal china, with a hand-painted flower pattern on a white background. A cruet set with oil, vinegar, salt and pepper◦– and toothpicks!◦– stood at the top of the table and another at the bottom. Beside each place there was a napkin in a paper bag with the guest’s name on it.
As soon as the party had sat down at the table and unfolded their napkins the door to the domestic wing opened and a row of orderlies came in. Two were carrying stacks of plates. The others took away the plates already in front of us on the table and replaced them with the new, warm plates. Soon the meal was served. Junge brought in a tray with the Führer’s lunch, two orderlies brought large dishes of various salads for each side of the table and began serving down both sides from the middle. Two others asked what we would like to drink. The salad seemed to be a kind of starter, because everyone began eating it at once. But then the next course appeared too: braised beef marinated in vinegar and herbs, with creamed potatoes and young beans. This first menu I ate at the Berghof has stuck in my mind because I was greatly relieved to find that we didn’t all have to follow the Führer’s diet. I’d have had to be very ill, I’m sure, to subsist on gruel, linseed mush, muesli and vegetable juice of my own free will. During meals Hitler himself often mentioned his difficulty in getting decent vegetarian dishes. He had a delicate stomach, although later I came to believe that much of his illness was nervous or imaginary. Here on the Obersalzberg Hitler ate the diet food of the Zabel sanatorium, quite a well-known nursing home in Berchtesgaden where Professor Zabel provided the same kind of diet as Professor Bircher-Benner of Switzerland. When Hitler was at the Berghof a cook came in from the sanatorium to cook for him. He had a peculiar passion for unrefined linseed oil. For instance, he loved to eat baked potatoes with curd cheese and would pour unrefined linseed oil over them.
Eva Braun had only contemptuous pity for this diet. I should think nothing would have persuaded her to try the Führer’s food. However, she too claimed to have a weak stomach and ate very little, nothing but easily digestible dishes and not much fat. Sometimes she drank bitters after the meal. But when I came to know her better I thought that she ate sparingly mainly to keep her slim figure. She hated fat women, and was very proud of being slim and dainty. The Führer teased her about it. ‘When I first met you, you were so nice and plump, and now you’re positively skinny. All the ladies say they want to be beautiful for their menfolk, and then they do everything they can to be the opposite of what a man likes. They claim that they’d make any sacrifice to please him, but they’re sacrificing themselves entirely to fashion. Fashion is the one and only power◦– the strongest of all. And other women are the only judges. All women just want to be the envy of their female friends.’ Eva might protest vigorously, but she admitted that she most certainly didn’t want to be any fatter.
Conversations at table were usually trivial and cheerful. Hitler talked about the pranks he had played at school and reminisced about the early struggles of the Party. He often teased his colleagues. Walther Hewel, the liaison officer from the Foreign Office, was a favourite butt. Hewel was still relatively young for his high rank, and unmarried. He was about forty years old. His pleasing charm, typical of a Rhinelander, made him popular. He had lived in India for years and had many amusing tales to tell of his time there. Hitler asked him, ‘So when are you finally going to write your book From Machete to Diplomatic Dagger? But then you’re no diplomat! More of a giant diplomatic cowboy!’ The tall, dignified Hewel responded to this sally only with hearty laughter. ‘If I weren’t a diplomat I couldn’t stand between you and Ribbentrop, my Führer,’ he replied. Hitler had to acknowledge the truth of this, for he knew what a difficult character the Foreign Minister was. But the fact that Hewel was still unmarried made him the object of daily teasing. ‘I expect you’re looking for one of those Indian tree monkeys,’ said Hitler. But seriously, the Führer really was looking out for a suitable wife for his favourite liaison officer. For a while those around him thought he wanted Hewel to marry Eva’s sister Gretl Braun. But Hewel himself didn’t fancy the idea. Later he was discreetly pointed in the direction of Ilsebill Todt, daughter of the late architect.[37] Hitler described Ilsebill as ‘a beautiful girl’, and was disappointed that this comment wasn’t enough to convince Hewel.
The Führer also tried to put meat-eaters off their food at mealtimes. He didn’t actually want to convert anyone to vegetarianism, but he would suddenly begin to talk about the horrors of an abattoir. ‘One day, when headquarters was stationed in Ukraine, my men were to be shown the biggest, most modern of the local abattoirs. It was a fully modernized factory seeing the job right through from pig to sausage, including processing the bones, bristles and skin. Everything was so clean and neat, with pretty girls in high gumboots standing up to their calves in fresh blood. All the same, the meat-eating men felt unwell, and many of them left without seeing everything. I run no such risks. I can happily watch carrots and potatoes being pulled up, eggs collected from the henhouse and cows milked.’
It is true that most of these remarks were so familiar by now that they no longer spoiled anyone’s appetite, but Hitler could always find a victim. The sensitive Reich press chief put down his knife and fork, turned pale, and claimed quietly, in muted tones, that he wasn’t hungry any more. Sometimes this conversation was followed by a little philosophical discussion of human cowardice. There were so many things, said Hitler, that people couldn’t do themselves, or couldn’t even watch, but all the same they would happily reap the benefit.
37
Fritz Todt,