Christopher Priest - The Separation

I stared down at the sight for two or three minutes, impressed by it, but even more disconcerted by the presence of the notorious Nazi leader standing beside me. When you stand over a vertiginous drop of that sort, where a fall would lead to certain death, thoughts of stumbling accidentally are uppermost in your mind. With them, inevitably, come the parallel thoughts of jumping or of being pushed. Rudolf Hess was an arm’s length away from me, leaning, like me, to stare down into the pit. If one of us were to fall? If one of us were to push the other?

I shrank away from such thoughts, physical violence being abhorrent to me, but at the same time I could not forget who was there beside me, what he stood for, how many human lives his war had already taken, what a threat his regime presented to the security of the rest of the world.

He straightened and we both moved back from the edge.

‘[Did you know the cliff once was used as a prison?]’ Hess said, raising his voice above the roar from the cauldron.

‘[A prison?]’

‘[The main jail was elsewhere but they created punishment cells in these cliffs, at the high-tide mark. Troublesome prisoners were put there for a while, so they could have a bad experience of solitary confinement.]’ He gave me another leering smile. ‘[It was the French and German prisoners who were most often placed in the cells. Never the British, though. I wonder why not? Come, let me show you. One of them is along here somewhere.]’

He set off along the footpath once more and I followed, chilled by his oddness. He turned out not to be sure of the site of the cell, because we walked to and fro along the path for several minutes without success. I was becoming guiltily aware how long I had been away from my work. Hess eventually lost interest in the search, looking thoughtfully towards the ground as we sauntered along. We came to a halt in more or less the same place as I was sitting when he came up to me.

Then he said, in a more confidential voice, ‘[We have met before, I think. Do you remember that?]’

‘[I have seen you before, Deputy Leader,]’ I said. ‘[But I am certain I have not had the pleasure of meeting you in person until today]’

‘[No, you are wrong,]’ he said emphatically. ‘[I know your name from the list of Red Cross negotiators. You are Sawyer, J. L. Why should I remember that name? Your face also is familiar]’

‘[I was a competitor in the Olympic Games. I had the honour of accepting my medal from you, but I’m sure you would not remember me from that.]’

‘[In Berlin, you were? An athlete, then?]’

‘[I was a rower, sir.]’

‘[Maybe so. We have moved a long way from those days, have we not? So, you are English as I thought?]’

‘[Yes, sir.]’

‘[What do you English people think now of war? We have had a taste of war and perhaps we do not like it as much as we thought.]’

‘[I have always been against war.]’

‘[So you say. But it was you English who declared war on the Reich.]’

‘[Herr Deputy Leader, I should not be talking to you about such matters. I am only a junior official, with no influence on the principals.]’

‘[So why are you here?]’

‘[Ultimately because I am a pacifist and I wish to see peace made.]’

‘[Then we agree more than perhaps you think. I too have made the long journey here because my quest is for a peace between my country and yours.]’

‘[Sir, I am not representing my country. I am working for the Red Cross as a neutral.]’

‘[Yet you say once you competed in the Olympic Games. Were you then a neutral?]’

‘[No. I was rowing for Great Britain.]’

‘[So, tell me, what do the people of Great Britain have to say about the war? Do they want it to continue or do they want it to stop?]’

‘[I think they are tired of war, sir,]’ I said. ‘[But I also know they will never give up fighting so long as there is a threat to them.]’

‘[Tired of it? Already? There could be much worse for them to come, I think. The Leader has many secret weapons at his disposal.]’

The way he instantly seized on the idea that the British were wearying of war made me bite my lip. I remembered the warning we had been given by Declan Riley the evening before.

‘[I believe the British prefer peace to war,]’ I said as carefully as I could. ‘[But the threat of invasion and the actions of the Luftwaffe bombers have made people angry and determined to win.]’

‘[What of the party for peace in Britain? Do you ignore what they say?]’

‘[I’m not aware of them, sir. I have heard no talk of peace when I have been in Britain. Who is in the peace party?]’

‘[They are around you, Mr Sawyer. In this house! Do you think I am imagining them?]’

‘[Mr Churchill is running the country. But in my own opinion, Churchill is a troublemaker and warmonger-]’

‘[Mr Churchill has not been invited here, as you can see!]’ Hess interrupted me without apparently having listened to what I was saying. ‘[Churchill is an impediment to peace! He is the problem I have to solve, Mr Sawyer. The Leader is prepared to sign a peace treaty with the English but he is not willing to negotiate with Mr Churchill or any of his yes-men. The Leader passionately craves peace with Great Britain, but how do we persuade Churchill? Since we are here to speak of peace, what is your opinion? Would Churchill agree to a separate peace, or should Churchill be replaced? Important changes would have to follow an agreement such as the one we seek in this house. I speak of replacements in Germany, as well as in England. Will you British play your part and replace Churchill? With Halifax, say, or one of the able gentlemen who is with us for this conference?]’

‘[I can’t say, Herr Deputy Leader. I am not a representative of the British government.]’

I was terrified by the sudden intensity of the man. His distinctive, deep-set eyes were staring firmly at me, challenging me for an answer. But I was already in over my head. The information or opinion Hess wanted from me was impossible.

For a moment longer he continued to stare at me, then he made an impatient gesture. ‘[It is as I thought! Only the Reich wants peace!]’

He turned away from me with a bad-tempered, dismissive wave of the hand, and began to stride up the rough path in the direction of the house. I walked quickly after him, sensing already that if word of our conversation reached my superiors in the Red Cross, I would be boiled in oil.

We breasted the rise and came to the stand of trees that grew between the grounds of the house and the cliff area. Two SS officers in their sharp black uniforms were waiting on the lawn, staring towards us. I sensed trouble piling up on trouble for me. Hess came to a halt and faced me as I caught up with him.

‘[We have work to be doing,]’ he said in a more reasonable tone of voice.’[Mr Sawyer, let me tell you that even if you do not remember our earlier meeting in Berlin, I have myself now recalled the circumstances. Perhaps you have deliberately put them from your mind. We have indeed moved a long way since then. I understand the danger you are in, of being a British neutral in time of war. You can be sure I will say nothing of it again.]’

‘[Thank you, Herr Deputy Führer,]’ I said.

‘[Later, perhaps, you and I will have another opportunity to speak in private.]’

It was not to be. That was the only private conversation I had with Rudolf Hess during that stage of the negotiations. In fact, I scarcely saw him again before the end of the conference.

Almost from the moment when I returned to the villa the pressure of work on us greatly increased, with dozens of position papers, protocols, draft agreements, revised drafts, codicils and memoranda in need of practically instantaneous preparation and translation. None of us complained about the strain that the workload was placing on us, because of the unique importance of what we were doing, but for the next thirty-six hours we worked with hardly a break.