Geoff Nicholson - Street Sleeper

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The Berlin Bunker. Jung called it ‘a dark reflection of a universal symbol in the collective unconscious of our culture’, but then, he would. It conjures up images of stained, bare concrete, a tiny enclosed cube, a pill-box in the ruins; and we see the Führer, lonely, mad, isolated, perhaps finally heroic, going down with his city, pacing like a menagerie animal, wielding a revolver, spouting his political testament; the last man in a ruined world, the last sleeper in a dream that has died.

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Outside ‘Sorrento’ there was a group of photographers and cameramen and reporters, all jockeying for position by the front gate. In full view of these people Ishmael and Marilyn opened the front door, stood on the step and shouted that they wanted to talk to them. Marilyn stood in front of Ishmael as a shield, banking on the fact that while her father might be happy to slaughter reporters, police and hippies, he would hold back from shooting his own daughter. Ishmael was not certain that this was anything to bank on, but he was eager to face the press.

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The Bunker is the Berlin Chancellery air-raid shelter. It is a two storey construction, built fifty feet beneath the ground, the lower storey being Hitler’s domain — eighteen rooms set along a central corridor, six of them a suite for Hitler and Eva Braun. Eva has her own bed-sitting room, bathroom and dressing room. Hitler sleeps in a separate room. And there is a map room, a study, a telephone exchange, guard rooms, and a space containing a generator. There are also two rooms for Goebbels, and a room for Stumpfegger — Hitler’s latest surgeon.

On the upper floor Goebbels’ wife and his six children occupy four rooms, there is a kitchen, the servants’ quarters, and a dining room. There is also accommodation for Heinz Linge, Hitler’s valet; his SS adjutant; Fraulein Manzialy, his vegetarian cook. And there are the dogs — Hitler’s alsatian Blondi has given birth to a litter and Hitler has adopted one, giving it his own nickname of Wolf. There are also lots of visitors from the neighbouring shelters — Bormann, Krebs, Burgdorf, Axmann.

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The questions came thick and fast, shouted over the twenty-yard gap between the house and the front gate. Ishmael answered calmy but loudly and clearly.

Q: Are you a terrorist? Are you part of a terrorist organization?

A: No sir, certainly not. Not a terrorist, not organized.

Q: But you do have followers?

A: I have a few friends with whom I travel the same road.

But we’re motorists, not terrorists.

Q: Why are they dressed in paramilitary uniform?

A: You call this paramilitary? I call it fancy dress.

Q: Then why fancy dress?

A: It’s fun.

Q: Terrorists or not, is it true that you came here to attack the home of Mr Lederer?

A: Not true. We just stopped by for a bit of a chat. We came as pilgrims. He’s our local MP, after all.

Q: You came to discuss politics?

A: I’m afraid politics is a bit low on the cosmic scale by our standards. I was after something higher. I wanted to discuss truth, beauty, love. You know, the real issues.

Q: How far did you get in your discussions?

A: Not very far I’m afraid. We came openly to his front door. We knocked, we entered, we thought perhaps Mr Lederer had slipped out for a moment and would be back soon. And in fact he was back soon but sadly he was in no mood for discussions.

Q: In fact he appears to have thought you were out to destroy his property and threaten his life.

A: I understand Mr Lederer has been working too hard.

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The Bunker then, is a cramped crowded madhouse, but in Berlin in April 1945 it might not have seemed such a bad place to be. At street level the Russian air-raids continue daily, and soon the Bolshevik forces will be walking the streets of Berlin and perfunctorily sweeping aside what little resistance is still being offered by a few remaining German companies and some stragglers from the Hitler Youth.

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Q: Let’s get this straight, are you saying you came to ‘Sorrento’ to discuss spiritual matters and Mr Lederer and a group of his friends attacked you?

A: I couldn’t have put it better.

Q: Unprovoked?

A: Well something must have provoked him, but it wasn’t me.

Q: You seriously expect us to believe that a distinguished Member of Parliament would behave in this appalling way?

A: The road of expectations is a muddy track with potholes and black ice. I’d never met a politician until I met Mr Lederer but his mad behaviour seems fairly consistent with my impression of the average politician. ( General laughter issued from the members of the press .)

Q: What do you know about the petrol bombing of Mr Lederer’s house a few weeks ago?

A: Was it petrol bombed? I didn’t know that. Perhaps that was part of the reason why he was so touchy. A thing like that’s bound to be upsetting.

Q: So why do you think Mr Lederer attacked you?

A: That’s easy. He’s a maniac.

Q: What is the connection between yourself and Mr Lederer’s daughter?

A: Our connection is spiritual, mental and physical. It’s sublime. Love is the greatest thing. It’s all you need. I’d like to tell all the viewers and listeners and readers that love is still alive in the world today. It may not be easy to stumble across but I’ve found it and so can they.

Q: Do you think Mr Lederer can find it?

A: What a very good question. Why shouldn’t he? But it may take a lot of work.

Q: Would you still like to have a ‘chat’ with Mr Lederer?

A: Sure. If he’d listen.

Q: And if he listened, what would you say to him?

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Eva Braun — we see a high contrast sepia photograph of a thick-waisted, naked woman caught in a dance pose, on a beach, under a streaked sky. She loves him. She has stood by her man. While Hitler was rising to power she was content not to be married. She didn’t want to stand in the way of his career. Behind every successful dictator…In the Bunker that is no longer a problem. She arrived unexpectedly and announced her decision to stay with him to the end. Love and death thrive in the ruined city. It is pure opera.

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A: I would say to him, ‘Sir, politics is all very well in its place, but it’s not the whole answer. We must go further, drive ourselves that bit harder. Let us be rally drivers of the human soul.’

Q: Is it true that you threw down some sort of ‘challenge’ to Mr Lederer and the Crockenfield Blazers?

A: There is one challenge I throw down and it is this: I challenge you to find the light. Look into God’s fog lamps and try not to be dazzled. Pluck out the cat’s eyes of darkness. Replace the flattened battery and the dulled parking lights of evil.

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Hitler is fifty-six. He celebrates his birthday in the Bunker. It is a low-key affair. Karl-Otto Saul gives him a finely-detailed scale model of a 350mm mortar. Everyone admires the gesture. Hitler tells how the previous day he was having some blood drawn from his arm in the hope of relieving a venomous headache. The blood blocked the hypodermic needle, spurted, and had to be caught in a beaker. ‘All we needed to do was add some fat and some seasoning and we could have sold it as Führer blood sausage.’

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Q: Is it true you used to be a librarian?

A: Yes.

Q: Why did you give it up?

A: Because the repair manual of life is too large a volume to be contained in a single library.

Q: And tell us, what is the significance of the Volkswagen?

A: The Volkswagen is the Chariot of the New Gods.

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And now Hitler and Eva Braun are to be married in the Bunker. Depending on your sources you may like to believe that Hitler is riddled with venereal disease, or that he is incapable of sexual intercourse, or, of course, both. Not that it matters now to Eva, not that it matters much to anyone in Berlin any more. Walter Wagner, a municipal councillor wearing a party uniform and a Volkssturm armband, conducts the wedding ceremony. It takes place in the Bunker’s map room. The couple pledge that they are of pure Aryan extraction, though Hitler of course is lying. Eva wears the black silk dress that is Hitler’s favourite. Goebbels and Bormann are the witnesses. Afterwards they retire to drink champagne and talk about the past.