Of his psychological state, though, he says that he has been suffering recurring episodes similar to the ‘déjà vu’ phenomenon, a form of lucid paramnesia in which he feels he is predicting events that do not in the event turn out to be true. I told Mr Sawyer that delusional incidents often occur as a result of concussion, and he accepted this. I also explained that it was common for such delusional incidents to be plausible and easily confused with real life, at least for a while.
Mr Sawyer told me that his real concern is that whenever he suffers an attack it ends with him returning abruptly to the moment the delusion began, forcing him to question whether or not it has really ended.
He also mentioned in particular that he has frequently wondered whether the life he is leading now - i.e. the work he is doing with the Red Cross, the interview he has had with me, and so on - is also one long delusion from which he will suddenly awaken, instantly invalidating everything he is now experiencing.
I assured him that it was not and suggested that my writing this letter for him to give to you would be further evidence that it was not, but of course from his point of view it settles nothing in what might be described as his proto-delusional state.
Mr Sawyer seems to be coping well with the condition and tells me that it is a lot better. He believes he has it under control. I can assure you and him that he does not appear to be suffering any deep-rooted psychosis, that he can function well in the normal world and that with time the problem should go away altogether. My only concern would be if, in the short term, Mr Sawyer were to undergo some other kind of shock - of a physical nature, or a psychological one, perhaps related to his expected child or the well-being of his twin brother - then he might suffer a setback in this regard.
Yours very sincerely,
Frank
[Franklin K. Clark MSc; Clinical Psychologist]
22
Holograph notebooks of J. L. Sawyer
xxii
Our plane flew low over the rooftops of Stockholm, a grey-and-silver city whose outlines were delineated by sparkling channels of sunlit water. We landed on the lake called Stora Varten, to the north-east of the centre of the city, in a great plume of white spray that splashed against the cabin portholes like a cascade of pebbles. The flying-boat swooped sharply down and up while we still travelled at speed on the surface of the water, but when the pilot held down the aircraft’s nose the noise briefly increased as the plane was slowed by the friction of the water. My own seat was fairly close to the front of the cabin, looking out through the porthole beneath the starboard wing.
The forward part of the cabin was curtained off not far in front of my seat. Once again, we in the rear part of the aircraft had to wait while the dignitaries at the front disembarked. This time it was not as straightforward a matter as it had been on land. I watched as a motor-boat came out from the shore and tied up beneath the wing. The Duke of Kent and his entourage boarded the boat in my full view, but by this time the secrecy surrounding the Duke’s presence was a formality for most of us on the aircraft.
By the time the rest of us had disembarked and been taken at high speed to the centre of the city, it was getting dark. Most of the delegates stayed in a large hotel in the city. In the morning we were driven out into the countryside, to a beautiful mansion set in a secluded position, surrounded by forest and overlooking a wide lake. As before, I was assigned to the document team, a job I relished. The important difference on this occasion was that I was placed in overall charge of the team, something I thought a great honour.
However, it was soon apparent that it was not to be a rerun of the earlier meeting.
Deputy Führer Rudolf Hess was expected to arrive in Stockholm during the night, but clearly something had gone wrong while he was en route. He did not appear at the first session, which naturally enough meant the talks were not able to start.
While we were settling down in the palatial rooms of the mansion, his absence noted by all, rumours began to spread. At first they were sensational stories: Hess had been sidelined by Goering, Hess’s plane had been shot down, Hitler had ordered Hess not to attend, and so on. From Count Bernadotte’s team of assistants - it turned out that the estate belonged to the count, although he was not present in person - we learned that none of the rumours was true and that the talks were merely delayed for a few hours for unavoidable reasons.
With no facts we could rely on, all we could do was wait until the position became clearer. Dr Burckhardt, who obviously knew no more than any of us, counselled patience. We remained in a state of suspension through the morning, took an early lunch, then returned to our various places.
Midway through the afternoon, without prior warning, three black Daimler limousines approached the house at some speed. Attracted by the sound and the movement, several members of our translation team moved to the window to see what was happening. Hess was travelling in the first car. As soon as it halted he climbed down, briefly scanned the facade of the house then strode into the building.
xxiii
Within fifteen minutes of Hess’s arrival a plenary session of the conference was called. All the various auxiliaries, like myself, were allowed into the main negotiating hall, the first time I had seen inside. It was set out so that the main tables formed a large equilateral triangle: the British representatives were placed on one side, the Germans on another and the representatives of the neutral governments, the Red Cross and the Quaker negotiators were seated along the third. A huge spray of flowers had been placed in the floor space between the tables.
As we assembled, the auxiliary workers being requested to sit in three rows of chairs placed behind the Red Cross, it was noticeable that all the seats at the German table were occupied but for the one in the centre.
We settled into silence, an air of great expectancy hovering in the room.
After we had waited about a minute, Rudolf Hess appeared from a side door and walked briskly into the hall, his face a mask of impassivity, looking to neither side. He was dressed in the uniform of a Luftwaffe officer. We rose to our feet. Hess, taking up his central place at the German table, nodded imperiously and we resumed our seats.
Speaking without the aid of notes, Hess then addressed the delegates.
‘[My good gentlemen, I apologize for my late appearance at this most important meeting,]’ he began. ‘[I fully intended to be here on time and, as our hosts in such a splendid house already know, we representatives from the Reich had already requested that our negotiations should adhere to a strict timetable. My lateness has ruined those plans. I regret if this fact has made it seem, even temporarily, that the German government has lost its enthusiasm for peace with honour to both sides. I can assure you that is not so.
‘[I was, however, delayed in a way that everyone here, when they learn the facts, will agree was unavoidable. Yesterday evening, while I was flying to this country, as dark was falling over the sea, the plane, which I was piloting myself, was attacked by an unknown number of fighter aircraft. Although I did manage to escape unharmed, as you can see, it was not without serious damage to my aircraft. I regret to say that my fellow crewman, Hauptmann Alfred Horn, was killed during the incident. The plane was also damaged to such an extent that I was forced to make an unscheduled landing in Denmark. I have reached here today by other means.