“We should be getting back,” Karl said. “We can’t hang about here too long.”
As we walked, I wondered why we had come in the first place. I didn’t have a good feeling about our visit to the Teahouse. Something gnawed at my stomach and I knew my discomfort centered on Karl and Ursula. They were up to something.
CHAPTER 5
Karl informed us that Hitler often stayed at the Berghof for only a short time before leaving for another headquarters or hiding place. When Hitler was in residence, a giant Nazi flag flew over the grounds. As it turned out, he wasn’t even at the Berghof for about two weeks in May. I wasn’t sure where he went, but Karl, on the sly, told me it was to the “Wolf’s Lair.” To foil assassination attempts, the Führer kept his travel schedule secret and often switched trains or flights at the last moment or showed up early or late for appointments. He’d used this tactic for years, and it had served him well, particularly since the war broke out.
A rumor circulated that Hitler was holding a reception at the Teahouse for kitchen staff before he left on his next trip. It would be the first time I had a chance to meet the leader of the Reich. I asked Karl about this and he confirmed it was true.
After breakfast the next morning, everyone was in high spirits and anticipation about “tea” with the Führer. A light rain fell, but it did not dampen our gay mood. Cook wanted me to take inventory from the greenhouses and record food items, in addition to my tasting duties, so I was late getting back to my room.
“Eva has instructed everyone to wear traditional Bavarian garments,” Cook told me. “There will be a costume on your bed.”
“Why is dressing up so important?” I asked her.
“Because Heinrich Hoffmann, Hitler’s personal photographer, is here. He and Eva thought it would be a good opportunity to capture the benevolent spirit of the Führer as he entertains and thanks his staff.” She chuckled. “Eva loves to dress up. That’s really why we’re doing it.”
When I went back to my room, I interrupted Ursula. She was already dressed in her Bavarian costume. I really had no fondness for the hose, petticoats, the flouncy dress and puffy sleeves of the garment. Ursula sat on her bed, sewing her apron. She turned quickly away from me when I entered.
“You’d better get ready,” Ursula said, looking back over her shoulder. Her fingers trembled and the needle slipped from her hand.
“Are you all right?” I asked. “Is there a problem with your apron?”
She shook her head. “I’m shaky because I haven’t eaten. I need to get to the kitchen for some food.” She began sewing again and stitched across the apron’s left pocket.
“There’s not much to eat now. The staff is preparing lunch, but I wouldn’t be concerned about me getting ready. I’m sure it’ll be after four before we’re called to the Teahouse. We’ve got plenty of time.”
Ursula sighed. “Yes, plenty of time.”
She went back to her work as I inspected my dress and its trimmings. “I don’t have an apron. Do I need one?”
Her eyes dimmed. “I don’t know. You might ask Cook. This one was given specifically to me.”
I stretched out on my bed with a book. “The weather is so nasty it’s a good day for reading.”
Ursula threw the apron and needle on her bed. “Can’t you take a walk or find something to do?”
I sat up, shocked at her harsh tone. “What’s wrong? I’ve never seen you so upset. Is it your mother?”
She buried her face in her hands and cried. I crept over to her, sat behind her and cradled her shoulders. This made her sobbing even worse.
“Yes,” she said between gasps. “I have no family now. Both of my brothers are dead because of the war. My father is already dead and my mother is dying. I don’t care if we lose this war—I’ve already lost everything. My brothers were all I had.”
I turned her so she faced me, and wiped her tears with a handkerchief. “You must be strong and not let your troubles overcome you.”
Ursula pushed me away. “You say that so easily because you still have your family. Wait until they are gone. Then you’ll see how hard it is.” She collapsed on the bed.
Saddened by her mood, I got up and stared out the window. The mountains were lost in the silver mist and fog. On days like this, the Berghof’s air of invincibility vanished. “I’ll leave you alone, but you only have to ask if you need my help.” I found my poetry book on the shelf. I knew Hitler was still eating breakfast and after that he would meet with his military staff for a few hours in the Great Hall. I had no idea where to go. “I’ll be back later to get ready.”
Ursula continued working on her checked apron. A few flecks of white powder shone on the red fabric. I closed the door, not thinking much about what I’d seen.
I sat at a table on the corner of the terrace. No one else was around because of the cold rain. The wind blew mist under the sun umbrella, making reading uncomfortable. After a few minutes, I gave up and found a vacant chair in a hallway. Eva happened to walk by with her two Scotties. The dogs were used to guests at the Berghof but still insisted on sniffing me. Eva stood before me, looking bored and out of sorts; she wore a dark blue bellflower skirt with a matching bolero jacket. I admired the diamond-encrusted bracelet on her left wrist.
“The Führer gave me this.” Eva jangled the bracelet and laughed casually; however, there was no humor in her voice. She leaned down as if to whisper in my ear. “If you promise not to tell anyone, I’ll let you in on a secret.”
I was astounded at her intimacy with me—someone she barely knew. I didn’t know what to make of it. She must have been lonely and in need of a friend. Cook and others in the kitchen had hinted at Eva’s personality. Somewhat flighty, haughty when she needed to be, entitled, but also flirty and fun with her friends. Because I’d had so little contact with her, I wanted to make up my own mind.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Magda Ritter.”
She continued her conversation, asking me where I was born, questioning me about my parents, my schooling and how I came to work at the Berghof.
I answered everything truthfully. She shook my hand, but didn’t give her name. Obviously, I was expected to know who she was.
She studied me with her blue eyes. “I’ve seen you in the kitchen. What do you do?”
“I’m a taster for the Führer.”
She beamed like a benevolent member of the clergy. “Ah, a wonderful position. You are protecting the life of the most important man in the world. You don’t know how he depends on his staff to guide him through these terrible times.”
I smiled because she knew so little of me and tasting. No matter how magnificent the meal, you wondered if it was your last. “I would never expect the Führer to know who we are.”
“Of course he does. People like you lift him above the fray. If there was any threat to the Berghof, he would be the first to throw himself at the enemy. He would protect his staff until all danger had vanished.”
I nodded, uncertain of what she was getting at, but clearly Eva wanted to paint him as a kind and congenial man. Cook had told me stories about his loving interactions with Blondi, his dog, his fond dealings with Speer’s children and Eva’s guests. His closest associates believed the Führer could do no wrong.
Eva knelt in front of me and patted the Scotties. They sat patiently at her feet during our conversation. “Why are you reading here?”
“Because my roommate is in no mood for company.”
She turned her attention from the dogs and put her hand upon mine. “I know how you feel. The Führer often ignores me, sometimes for days at a time, because he is so busy. When he leaves for other parts of the Reich, I go to my little house in Munich. Life can be lonely and boring there, too.”