V Alexander - The Taster

“No one has died?”

“No, but several tasters have gotten sick.” She laughed and then added, “But I think their illnesses were caused by the soldiers they kissed the night before. There’s nothing wrong with the food. You’ve seen it. Only the best comes from the greenhouses, and it’s always prepared in the most delicious manner. If you think about it, we’re lucky we don’t have to deal with rations like the rest of the country.”

I settled on my bed and cradled my stuffed monkey in my arms.

“You look ridiculous with that toy,” Ursula said.

I flipped the monkey in the air and caught him in my arms. “I know, but he reminds me of home and my family.”

“I don’t miss Munich. I love it here.” Then her mood darkened and she lowered her voice. “How much do you know about the war?”

I shook my head. “Little—just what we hear on the radio and read in the papers.”

Ursula took another puff. “The soldiers here talk, especially if you’re pretty, even though they’re not supposed to.” She winked. “I know we will win the war, but there are rumors going around that the Allies and our Eastern foes are gaining ground. Some say it’s only a matter of time before Germany falls.” She shook a finger at me. “Don’t spread that around.”

I believed we might come to a stalemate with the Allies, but losing the war was something I’d never considered despite my father’s negative feelings. The suggestion of having to deal with the enemy horde chilled me. It was too much to think about in one evening. Ursula saw my uneasiness as I shrunk back against the wall.

“How does the Colonel feel about such talk?” I asked.

“He’s a dangerous man,” Ursula said. She reached under the bed, pulled out an ashtray and snuffed out her cigarette. The smell of burned tobacco filled our room. Ursula waved her hands, trying to get the smoke out the window. She peered out. “If he caught me smoking, he’d report me in a second.”

“I’m beginning to feel like I’m in prison,” I said, having no idea what a real prison would be like.

She shrugged. “Don’t worry. You’ll have your class in poisons soon. It’s most interesting. Cook explains it well. You learn to identify them by sight, taste and smell.”

“Taste?” I asked, wondering how such a process could exist.

“A pinprick of a taste. A lick of the fingertip. Not enough to harm you—at least for most poisons.”

I shivered and yearned to shift the conversation to another topic. I’d learned enough for one evening. “Would you like to do something tonight? I feel restless.”

Ursula’s eyes lit up, making me wonder whether she had secretly wanted to go out all along. “I was going to read, but let’s take a walk instead. It’s too late to go to a movie at the Theater Hall, but the SS barracks are up the hill.” She fluffed her hair and looked at her face in a compact mirror.

We put on our coats and walked through the east wing of the Berghof. A guard stationed at the door where the driver had dropped me off nodded as we passed. Ursula said, “Good evening.” She was familiar with many of the soldiers. Because we were in the immediate area surrounding the residence, we did not need to show passes. Ursula said that if we had wanted to visit anywhere outside the perimeter the SS would question us.

The SS barracks stood on the hill to the southeast of the Berghof. The four main buildings were constructed around a central field used by the corps for drills and inspections. Ursula said many of the men would still be up and she would introduce me to a few of the officers. We strolled around the barracks and peered into the field. The buildings were darkened by the blackout blinds. Now and then the breeze would lift a blind and a warm buttery light would pulse out, only to be extinguished as quickly as it appeared. Ursula and I walked in the milky light of a quarter moon, which shone through the silky clouds.

After a little while, we came upon a group of soldiers standing near the corner of the southern barracks. We spotted them by their dark silhouettes and the orange flare of their cigarettes. They were laughing and quite unaware of our presence. Two of them were without shirts and shoes, wearing only pants hitched up by suspenders strapped over their bare shoulders. As we approached they gave us a friendly greeting and salute, and one of them reached out to Ursula and gave her a kiss on the hand, much to the delight of the others. She introduced me to the soldier, Franz Faber. He was blond, with a wide smile, and a few inches taller than Ursula. A scar ran down the left side of his face. Ursula and Franz were so familiar with the group they forgot that I knew no one. The other men drifted away and left me standing awkwardly with the couple. I didn’t want to be uninvited company, so I ventured farther into the courtyard. That was when a man called out my name.

I turned and saw Captain Weber. He was one of the men without a shirt and shoes, but I hadn’t recognized him in the crowd. I flushed with embarrassment because Ursula and I had interrupted their gathering. I wrapped my collar tighter around my neck.

“It’s a beautiful evening, isn’t it?” He held out his hand.

I shook it politely and nodded. “I’m walking with Fräulein Thalberg.” I looked at my watch. “We should be getting back to the Berghof. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“Nonsense.” He rubbed his hands together. “It’s too chilly to stand out here under the moon. Won’t you come inside for a moment?”

“Cook wouldn’t like that. I believe she would refer to it as ‘fraternization.’”

He laughed. “Don’t worry about Cook. I can handle her.”

I had never been in a barracks and wasn’t sure I should be, but how could I resist the Captain’s invitation? I had nothing to go back to but my lonely quarters. Ursula and her companion stood where I’d left them. I waved my arms until I got her attention and then pointed to Karl. She immediately understood and waved back. The officer directed me to the barracks entrance. His private room was only a few feet away. He opened the door and we stepped inside.

His quarters were small, similar to what Ursula and I lived in, but, unlike me, Captain Weber lived alone. The window, shielded by its blackout curtain, looked toward the central field. The room contained a bed, a desk and enough wall space and shelves to display the certificates, medals and trophies awarded during his education and from the Reich. His uniform jacket hung on the back of the door. His polished black boots rested at the foot of his bed.

I looked out of the corner of my eye, relishing the chance to peek at his body before he pulled on a white shirt and buttoned it up about halfway. His stomach was lean, his chest and shoulders broad. He motioned for me to sit on the desk chair while he sat on the bed. He reached for cigarettes and then reconsidered. “I’m trying to give them up. They’re bad for you.” Smiling, he leaned back as if we were the best of friends.

“I wouldn’t think the men would be allowed to smoke outside.” I pointed to the ceiling. Our neighbor, Frau Horst, had told me that bombers could target the light from cigarettes. At the time, I thought she was being silly.

“I look the other way. Who knows how long any of us will be around? Besides, the Allies don’t fly near here—not yet.”

I stared at him, unsure what to say.

“How are you enjoying the Berg?” he finally asked, breaking an uncomfortable silence.

“The Berg?” I was unfamiliar with the term.

“Everyone on the staff calls it the Berg, especially if you’re fond of the ‘boss.’”

“It’s just a job.” I placed my hands in my lap. “I haven’t tasted yet. I’m a little nervous.”