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.