V Alexander - The Taster

As I walked, a few other low buildings appeared in the green forest light like ships emerging from a fog. I stopped, unsure of which way to proceed. I must have given the impression I was out of place, uncertain of my direction, because a sonorous voice called out to me.

“Are you lost, my child?”

My breath caught and I jumped.

The Führer glided like an apparition out of the forest. He was dressed in dark pants and a fawn-colored double-breasted jacket. A single medal was pinned to its left lapel. I had no idea what it signified. He also wore a military cap with a circular red headband. Blondi, his German shepherd, trotted ahead of him, her tongue hanging over the side of her jaw.

My face must have given away my surprise. His eyes captured mine. A powerful hypnotic power emanated from his intense gaze. He studied me, taking in my shock, deciding whether he wanted to bother with conversation. Finally, he asked my name and I answered.

He stepped closer. “What do you do?”

I cringed as I gave the Nazi salute, and said, “I’m a taster and bookkeeper in your kitchen.”

He ignored my obsequious performance and ordered Blondi to sit. “You protect me from the poisons that come my way. There was an unfortunate incident recently at the Berghof. Were you there?”

“Yes.”

He walked closer, with a slight stoop, and offered his hand. Blondi sat obediently, but I could tell she wanted to sniff my legs. A glint popped into Hitler’s eyes. “Are you the taster who was poisoned by Otto?”

I stiffened. “Yes, I’m the one. His little test made me sick for days. Cook was very upset about the whole affair and the time I missed from work.”

“I shall order him never to do it again.” A few sickly rays of light fell across Hitler’s face when the breeze shifted the branches above. Cook had told me Hitler didn’t like the sun. He moved back into the shade. “Where are you from?”

“Berlin, my Führer.”

His question and my response opened a torrent of comments about the city. He spoke of his plans for the capital, to be carried out by Albert Speer; and, dismissing Berlin, he told me how much he preferred Munich and the Obersalzberg to the city.

I looked at my watch. It was nearing ten thirty. Hitler saw my concern and said, “Blondi will never forgive me if I don’t finish her walk. Why are you here?”

I repeated the lie I had fabricated. “I have a message from Cook for Captain Weber.”

“Oh, Weber. He should be in the conference room with the other officers. You’ll find him at the guest barracks hut.” He pointed to a low building with windows I’d seen in the gloom.

“Thank you, my Führer.” I saluted again.

“You and Weber should join me for tea sometime.” He tugged on Blondi’s leash and he walked toward the large bunker I thought was his.

My pulse quickened. I stepped off the path and headed for the conference room. A strange thought struck me as I approached a group of officers huddling a few meters away from the door. Hitler had seemed so normal, almost like a grandfather. Could this be the same man who had ordered the destruction of thousands of innocent men, women and children in the East, as Karl’s pictures had shown? Hitler hardly seemed the demon I imagined him to be. I shook the thought from my head. Karl must be right. I had given my trust and heart to him.

I was nearing the men when a second SS guard with a dog stopped me. I presented my papers again and explained what I was doing. Rather than let me go on my way, this guard walked to the officers and asked for Captain Weber. One of the men entered the hut and several minutes later came back with Karl. Karl thanked him and then walked toward me. He showed no sign of concern until he came to a stop in front of my face.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in a fiery whisper. “Are you out of your mind? Why did you take such a risk?”

I looked past him toward the others; none of them seemed interested in our conversation. “Minna—one of the tasters I work with—overheard us last night. She threatened to tell Dora Schiffer. In fact, I think she will. If she does, we’re finished.”

Karl’s face blanched and he clasped his hands together. After a few moments, he regained his composure. “How much did she hear?”

“Too much. I told Minna we were talking about the Allies, but I don’t think she believed me.”

His eyes flickered in nervous thought as he paced in a small circle. “My God, what to do? Damn. Everyone knows everyone else’s business in the Reich.”

“Please, Karl. The others will suspect something. I know exactly what to do.”

He stopped and faced me, his jaw set and his eyes fixed as stones.

“Give me until one this afternoon,” I said, “and the problem will be solved.”

He shook his head. “You must not do anything rash. Promise me.”

“I just met the Führer.”

Karl’s face slackened. “That’s the kind of trouble I want to avoid. What did he say?”

“He wanted to know who I was and what I was doing here. It was a pleasant conversation. And he knows about us—someone must have told him, maybe Eva or Cook.”

“Promise me you won’t… we’ve talked far too long. Don’t put yourself in danger.” He turned toward the officers.

But I knew as he walked away that nothing he could say would sway me from my plan.

After another stop by the SS, I finally made my way back to the mess and the kitchen. Else was hunched over one of the preparation tables. She’d tasted the breakfast offerings. The other tasters were now involved with lunch, which would be served to the Führer, and invited guests, in the mid-afternoon.

Else and I had not talked much since I had been taken off tasting duty, but I suspected she still loathed the position and was miserable under Minna’s suffocating wing. I said good morning.

Else greeted me with a bright smile. “I was hoping to talk to you.”

“Really? Why?”

“I want out of this job—maybe do bookwork like you.” She clutched her throat. “I can’t stand the pressure of not knowing whether I’m going to—”

I finished the thought for her. “Be poisoned? Die?”

She nodded.

“You heard Minna. The chances of being poisoned are small. Now that you’ve been through class and performed the job, you must feel more assured.”

“Yes, but not as much as you and Minna. I don’t even know why they have me taste in the morning. The Führer only has a glass of milk and an apple. He’s obsessed with apples. Apple this and apple that.”

“Where is Minna? Is she tasting lunch today?”

Else’s smile soured as she looked around the room for our companion. “Yes, she should be here soon.”

“Have you seen Dora? I have a question to ask her.”

Else pointed to the kitchen. “She’s been with Cook all morning going over books.”

“Which reminds me, I need to get to work.”

“Magda,” Else called out as I walked toward the small desk I used. “Thank you for being so nice. I’m sorry Otto poisoned you.”

“Thank you. I’m stronger for it.”

Inside I felt like a shivering fool. The poisoning had indeed made me stronger—it had strengthened my resolve to fight against a lawless Reich. But I needed to win another battle without giving myself away. It was a risk I had to take.

I knew where the poisons were kept—under lock and key in Cook’s office. I went to my station and rifled through a few books to look as if I were working. I peered into the kitchen and saw Cook, Dora and Otto. Otto was preparing food at one of the stoves while Cook and Dora talked. He saw me and smirked. I had not talked to him since his “trick.” Cook and Dora seemed absorbed, but I interrupted them anyway. I asked Cook for the keys to her office under the pretense of finding an inventory book I needed. She handed them, hung from a large metal ring, to me and returned to her conversation. Dora barely gave me a glance. I asked in an offhanded way if either of them had seen Minna. They shook their heads. That was the answer I wanted.