V Alexander - The Taster

“Gentlemen, this way for the demonstration,” the officer said.

The older man in the business suit led the way. The crowd poured out the door, like dogs on the hunt, and turned to the east. Karl was one of the last out the door. He picked up a knapsack that had been resting near his feet. I hadn’t seen it when I first entered the hall. He stopped briefly near the door, turned and smiled. His smile, full of melancholy sadness, sent shivers down my spine. It was like looking at a skull, death itself staring me in the face.

When the procession of officials and officers had disappeared, I got up from the table and followed them down the path. They disappeared into the thickness of the green forest. Soon I would be swallowed by it as well, but I knew which way the men were going. Their voices carried on the air.

The path led onward for many meters before it ended and became a trail. Ahead of the men, I saw a fence that I couldn’t get through. Two SS guards stood near a gate. I veered off onto a smaller trail that led into the woods. The muddy ground squished around my shoes and bugs flew up from their moist hiding places. Karl had warned me about land mines, so I followed the narrow track already set into the earth.

A cleared field beyond the gate crossed into my view as I maneuvered through the vegetation. Hitler and his party stood in a circle around a large black machine—a tank as far as I could tell. A branch snapped behind me and I jumped.

“What are you doing here, Fräulein?”

I turned and faced an officer with a black patch covering his left eye. His shoulders were stooped from injury. He stood next to me, using a walking stick for support. He was a handsome man despite his disfigurement.

My mind went momentarily blank. After I regained my senses, I blurted out: “I’m carrying a message. I wasn’t sure which way to turn.” My excuse sounded as false as my words.

“A message? To whom?” He smiled, but his expression was more a smirk than a sign of kindness. He tapped the ground with his walking stick.

I didn’t want to link myself to Karl, so I replied, “To the Führer,” and immediately regretted my hasty stupidity.

“Then I will give him your message,” he said.

I shook my head. “It’s confidential.”

“I’m Colonel von Stauffenberg. I saw you veer off the path. You must be very bad at following people, or very interested in goings-on that aren’t your business. Give me the message.”

He was a different man from the Colonel who had given me such grief at the Berghof. Still, I gulped. I had trapped myself and I saw no easy way out of it. “Please tell the Führer he will have the most delicious apple pie tonight. Magda, his taster, will make sure of it.”

Von Stauffenberg chuckled. “Yes. I can see your message is confidential. Of course, ‘apple pie’ is the secret code for the Reich’s latest invasion plan.”

I pushed past him, but the Colonel braced his cane against a tree and stopped me in my tracks. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but I’m not going to report you.” His lips narrowed and he looked at me like a hawk eyeing a succulent rodent. “You realize the outer perimeter of the Wolf’s Lair is filled with land mines. You could be blown apart with one fatal step. Many unfortunate animals have ended their lives here.”

“Thank you for your advice,” I said. “I must get back to the kitchen.”

He lifted his cane and asked, “What is your name?”

“Magda Ritter.”

“I will remember you, Fräulein Ritter. You can be sure of it.”

He followed me back to the path. I turned west, the way I’d come, as the Colonel continued toward the field. I looked back before the trees blocked my view. Hitler and the man in the business suit were standing on top of the machine. Göring and the others were crowded around like adoring lambs. Von Stauffenberg ambled toward them. How unfortunate, I thought, that a high-ranking officer would make it his business to remember my name.

The whole day my nerves were on edge. I couldn’t sit still as I waited for an outbreak of chaos at the Wolf’s Lair, or the horrible news of Karl’s death. Every effort to clear my mind failed. I paced the library, picking out books to read, but ended up throwing them on the table. As the hours dragged by, I convinced myself the worst was over and prepared for my tasting. During work, I tried to put on a good face although Cook and the other tasters weren’t convinced by my display of pleasantries. Cook, in particular, knew me well enough to know that something was wrong. She asked me several times if I was ill. But as the hours passed, my fear lessened. Surely if something horrible had occurred the news would have spread across the Wolf’s Lair.

Later that evening, after hours of not knowing what had happened, Karl found me on my walk home and slipped an envelope into my hand. I almost collapsed from relief.

“Read it and then burn it,” he whispered. “Make sure the ashes are destroyed. I’m writing this letter because it is dangerous to be seen together.” He walked quickly away.

I folded the envelope and tucked it into my pocket. Reading the letter in my bedroom was risky, so, once again, I took refuge in our dormitory’s library.

As I thought, no one was there. I switched on a small lamp, took a book of German history from the shelf and settled into the overstuffed chair. I was away from everyone and for that I was thankful. I took out the letter, folded it in half and inserted it in the center of the book. I pretended to be reading history but, instead, focused on Karl’s letter:

Dearest Magda,

I am reluctant to be around you. Even handing you this letter comes with great risk. You hold my life in your hands. In fact, more than my life—the fate of Germany lies within this writing. I trust you will destroy any trace of it and I’ll know where your heart lies. If not, I will be executed for treason.

Either way, you see I’m prepared to die for what I believe.

This afternoon, I carried a knapsack loaded with a bomb. The explosion was meant for Hitler, Göring, Porsche and the rest. However, the plan was interrupted by von Stauffenberg, who was not scheduled to be here today. I cannot tell you more, but he and I are part of a movement to rid our country of the evil destroying it. Fortunately, I had not yet armed the bomb and I was able to dispose of it after the demonstration.

You might ask why we don’t shoot the Führer and get it over with. Believe me, such a course of action has been discussed many times. Von Stauffenberg and the others are convinced any attempt to bring down the Reich must include as many of its leaders as possible, not just Hitler. To kill only him might lead to worse circumstances than those that already exist. This is not a decision made lightly.

I’m alive tonight because von Stauffenberg decided to make an unannounced trip to the Wolf’s Lair. It was not my intention to kill a fellow collaborator. He is convinced the British have made plans as well and are waiting for the right moment. I doubt these include poison, but please be careful, my dearest. I want you to live whether or not I am alive. We will have no future until we can make it safe for our children.

Please destroy this letter and confirm my faith in you. Many lives besides our own hang in the balance. We will meet soon.

With trembling hands, I put the letter back in the envelope. Children? Any hope for the future? I marveled at his faith in me. If von Stauffenberg had not been there in the afternoon, the world would have been rid of a tyrant and many of his officers, and the man who professed his love for me would be dead.

I searched the library for a cigarette lighter or matches but found none. I stepped outside and saw a girl walking by who lived in the quarters opposite mine. I asked if she smoked and she nodded. I also asked if I might borrow her lighter. She pulled it from her pocket and we talked for a few minutes. She said to return it to her in the morning, because she was going to bed.